marvelobsessedteenager

[marvelobsessedteenager]

All The Hurt - Chapter 7

Pairing: Peter Parker x fem!reader

Warnings: ANGST, Peter was an ass, reader is a hurt and petty bitch, fluff to make up for the angst, curse words, lots of “coincidences” Ugh, so much fluff in this one I hope it melts your heart.

Word count: 9.5k (holy fucking lord this is the longest one yet HAHAHA)

A/n: I originally wanted a sad ending bc i'm a sucker for angst, but I felt like this was angsty enough so here you go :)  here it is my dudes! man, I can’t believe this is the end! If you’ve reached this far, thank you for reading this story, it means a lot to me.

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"Peter was trying to apologize last night,” You started, angry memories making their way back to you as you winced, “about the past and stuff, I don’t know, I didn’t let him finish. I’m..I feel like if I let him in, he’s just going to break me again. I’m still an idiot for him.”

"You’re an idiot in general.” Flash teased, flashing you a small smile in hopes that you’d return one. He had given you time to freshen up in the bathroom and led you to an isolated table at the corner of the cafeteria, where the both of you sat alone. He ignored any callings of his name from his friends, which you were eternally grateful for.

You slapped his hand and gave him a look, to which he instantly apologized for.

"But, honestly, look.” He said, getting serious, "What Peter did was fucked up, and I definitely don’t like him for it. At all. Like, at all-"

“-get to the point,” you rolled your eyes, gesturing your hand for him to move on.

“-But you love him.” He softly said, "That’s just the way it is. When your heart wants something and your brain wants another, you look into the future. If you don't try to rebuild your relationship with Peter, will you regret it later on? And, who knows, maybe it'll work. Sometimes you can fix things, and this could be one of them. Plus, even if it did go bad, you know you tried your best, and you can finally move on.

"I know you’re scared. It’s never easy, and it never will be. But you have to try. If you don’t, you’ll never really know the possibilities that lie ahead, and you’ll always come up with ‘what if’s for the rest of your life.”

His words somehow moved you, and lessened the weight on your chest just enough for you to crack a smile. You knew he was right. For once, you admitted to yourself that you did want to fix your relationship with Peter. And he was right. You were scared. Terrified, even. You didn’t want to feel the insufferable pain again.

But Flash was also right about you wondering what would’ve happened if you didn’t. You’d constantly wonder whether or not your relationship would’ve bloomed, and you didn’t want that, either. Your mind and heart were still battling, but, ultimately, you knew which side would win.

“Too much sappiness?” Flash chuckled, breaking the peaceful silence that stretched out.

“Didn’t know you had a Gandhi within you.” You gave him a watery laugh, wiping your nose with the tissue Flash handed you.

“It’s a hidden talent.” He admitted proudly, laughing along with you.

"I thought you would tell me not to go after him.” You confessed after you quieted down, watching Flash shake his head.

"I won’t tell you not to do something if I knew it was going to haunt you for the rest of your life.” He said, eyes softening. It was moments like these that reminded you of just how great he truly was, and how much he meant to you. You knew he hated Peter more than anyone, merely for what he’d done to you, so him giving you the right advice rather than sabotaging you meant the world to you.

You were profoundly thankful to have him in your life.

"Thanks, E.” You whispered gratefully, grabbing his hand from across the table and giving it a squeeze, "It means a lot.”

He flushed and squeezed back, a shy smile creeping upon his lips.

"Doesn’t mean I’ll stop bullying him, though.” He said, leaning back and folding his arms across his chest. "If anything, this just gives me a better reason to do so.”

Once again, you playfully slapped his arm and giggled, "Take it down a notch. You guys actually have a lot in common. I bet you’d get along just swell.”

"Ha! As if. Me and penis Parker. The only person I’d get along with is Spider-Man. That guy’s cool as hell.” Flash sighed dreamily.

"I ship it already.” You said, suppressing a laugh when Flash nodded excitedly and babbled on about the superhero with stars in his eyes. Poor kid has no idea that the worried eyes that were staring at the side of your face from across the room were attached to the same body that saved the both of you in D.C.

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“Ned! I need my phone, dude!” You cried, pushing the door to the decathlon practice room open and peeking in, confusion rising when your eyes swept the vacant class and caught sight of no one. Your shoes squeaked against the mopped floors and bounced around the emptiness.

“Ned?” You called out, waiting a moment for a response and sighing when you didn’t get one. You checked the clock on the wall, frowning when you realized you were right on time. He told you to meet him in this room at 2:45 sharp. Where was he?

“Boys tell you one thing then do something else without letting you know and somehow expect you to figure it out.” You muttered under your breath, turning around to walk out of the room. You figured you’d get your phone sometime tomorrow during lunch, when he wouldn’t ask you to suspiciously meet up after school in an empty classroom.

But when you twisted the knob and pulled, the door didn’t budge.

“What the-"

You continued jiggling the handle and pulling, hard, but it wouldn’t open. Amidst your third try, Ned’s beet red face came into view from the small glass that was built into the door.

“Dude!” You exclaimed, gesturing to the locked door, “what the fuck!”

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, but you guys need to make up!” Ned said, looking sincerely apologetic, which only made you even more confused.

“What are you talking about? Let me out, man. This is the stupidest prank ever.”

“It’s not a prank.” An uneasy voice piped from behind you, not too far away, eventually flicking the switch in your mind from anger to panic.

You froze in your place, hand still gripping the cool knob for dear life and eyes never leaving Ned’s until he backed away and ran in the opposite direction, mouthing the word ’sorry’ about a dozen times. You weren’t ready to talk to him. You didn’t write down what you were going to say, you haven’t thought about your speech for the 12th time and you needed to do so. You had to. You couldn’t just wing it again.

Of course he’d fucking do this.

“I’m not doing this right now, Parker.” You cleared your throat, back still turned to him, heart banging in your chest like blaring speakers at a concert.

“I need you to hear my side of the story.” He pleaded, "Just listen to me, hear me out, and then decide if you’re going to walk away or not."

“I’m going to tell you right now that I will walk away.” Your shaky hands searched your hair for a tool to pick the lock. Once your fingers ran over a bump, you plucked the long bobby pin out of your hair and pushed it into the keyhole, twisting and turning in all the wrong ways.

You didn’t know how this shit worked, but frankly, you couldn’t care less. You needed to busy your hands and mind, otherwise, you’d freak out again.

“Okay. If that’s what you want, but I’m still going to say my side of the story.” He said, standing his ground.

“Fine by me, it’s not like I’ll listen anyway,” you spat, slightly bending to see what you were dealing with. How did people do this in the movies? And so easily, too.

“I..Y/n, I was just trying to protect you. A-and…” He paused, taking a huge gulp of air, “I'm sorry. I’m so, so, sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you, I swear. I just…I just didn't want you to be involved in this Spiderman stuff. It hurt to let you go.” He said, voice eventually dulling into a sharp whisper.

You weren’t able to stop the scoff that escaped your lips, mumbling a ’sure it did’, shaking the doorknob even harder in order to drown out Peter’s voice. You didn’t want his words to change your mind. You didn’t want to get hurt again. You didn’t want to believe him, even after you convinced yourself you were going to. Transitioning into forgiveness wasn’t that easy, especially because you’ve gotten used to not be friends with him. You were having second thoughts, cold feet, and you can feel your brain taking control once again, as it always did when it thought about keeping you safe.

"It did.” He defended himself, "But I didn’t know it would hurt you even more. I was afraid you’d think differently of me, I was afraid you’d get hurt if anyone knew you knew Spider-Man, i-it can happen!”

“Really?” You snapped, "‘Cause Ned seemed to know and he looks fine."

"He found out.” He admitted with a sigh, "I climbed into my room, not knowing he was sitting on my bed. He saw and pieced it together, even after I tried lying. I didn’t want him to know, either."

"Then why did you push me away?”

"I can’t..I can’t tell you that.”

You growled and pushed harder on the bobby pin, ultimately breaking it in half, “Dammit!” You threw the pieces onto the floor and kicked the door in anger, turning to finally look at Peter exasperatedly, “Oh, would you look at that! Another fucking secret! That’s just great, Peter. I don’t know how you expect me to forgive you if you keep shutting me out."

“I-I know. I’ll tell you, I promise. I’m just..not ready.” He quietly said, cautiously moving towards you.

"You know what I’m not ready for? This.” You barked, wagging your finger in the distance between the two of you, "It’s too late, Parker. You should’ve done this sooner.”

“I’m-“

“I don’t want to hear whatever you have to say anymore,” you crossed your arms defensively, almost like you were covering your heart from hearing him. You didn’t know why you were saying what you were saying. You wanted to reconcile the both of you, but a large part of you was still afraid. That part was doing most, if not all, of the talking.

“But-“

“No, Parker. This isn’t-"

"I’m sorry it took you almost dying for me to apologize!” He yelled, immediately making your jaw shut and arms loosen as his loud voice boomed across the room. He was panting, moving closer to you, and only when he was at arm’s length did you see his glassy eyes.

"I’m sorry.” He whimpered, frantically running his hand through his hair and looking around, "I couldn’t protect uncle Ben and I-I thought I could protect you. I know you’d always want to keep me safe - I knew you’d pull off shit like that. I knew you’d want to run after me and help me fight off bad guys. And look what happened because of that."

His thumb hesitantly reached up and traced the scar beneath your eye as stray tears began to skate down his cheeks, causing your breath to hitch. He blamed himself.

“I couldn’t even think about losing you like I lost him. But I didn’t think about how I could lose you by trying to protect you. It hurt letting you go, it hurt to hurt you. It was never my intention to. It’s not an excuse, I know, I should’ve told you, and every day I regretted not doing so. It’s like..” His head sunk as his eyes searched the floor for words.

"It’s like I knew I should’ve but I was scared to. I had this fight with myself and I…I picked the wrong side.”

His hand dropped and gradually reached for your own, testing the waters. He sighed in relief when you allowed him to untangle your arms and hold your hand, shoulders relaxing and all traces of worry leaving his eyes.

“I made the wrong choice,” he admitted solemnly, “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I owe you my life, y/n/n.”

You didn’t push him away like you were expecting yourself to. In a way, you understood. Because that’s what you were going through, too, right? A heart and mind battle, and it’s a 50/50 chance that you’d pick the wrong option, just like he did.

Right now, as your cloudy vision bore into his own, both sides were tugging at your arms, willing you to join their side as they tore you apart. It was like a fight between the angel and the devil that sat heavily on your shoulders.

You stared down at your intertwined hands. When you were kids, he’d hold your hand every time he felt nervous. You noticed them - his quirks. Your strength and firm grip would terminate his worries and stop the shaking in his left hand, but it did nothing this time. It still shook, the vibrations running all the way into your body, because it was your decision that was making him nervous. You were the cause. Your strength was slowly dying out.

You were tired. You were tired of fighting, of the pain and emotions and racing mind and anxious heart. You wanted it to end, and it seemed as though you had finally reached the finish line.

This is it.

Your decision was to be made, right here, right now.

You met his fearful gaze, and there was your answer, hidden deep in the pupils of his brown eyes. You could get through this. You could fix this, and even though you didn’t want to admit it, it was the only thing you truly wanted right now.

You hesitantly nodded and allowed an uncertain smile to tug at your lips, communicating a certain level of forgiveness that you gave him. Your smile didn’t reach your eyes, but his did, accompanied by relieved laughter. He pulled you towards him, crashing into you like the waves of the ocean, like he wouldn’t ever let you go again.

You relished in the memories, arms finding their way around his body like they memorized their placement. His head dug into your neck, and you felt his tears fall onto your collarbone.

“Thank you,” he sobbed through hiccups, squeezing you harder, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

You raked your hand through his curls, just like you always did when he was upset, and felt your own ripple of tears prick at your eyes, “I’m sorry, too, Peter.” You whispered, “I shouldn’t have humiliated you and I shouldn’t have let my anger out on you. You died, and the first thing I did was yell at you.”

That only made Peter sob harder, tears falling at a quicker rate while you tried to catch your breath, “We’re okay.” You reassured him and yourself, "We’re okay.”

You silently stayed in each other’s arms for a while, basking in the new friendship you’d ought to build from scratch once more. It wouldn’t be easy, you still didn’t fully give in to the idea, but you knew that you would eventually. You just needed to see him change, and though it normally wouldn't work out, the vulnerability he was displaying while he kept apologizing and promising new beginnings through sniffles gave you the slightest amount of hope that you would hang onto. Just for a while.

Once you pulled back, he wiped his red face with his sleeves, now staining them with tears. The freckles of his face hid below the embarrassed blush that covered the apples of his cheeks. You backed away.

"I don’t know what to do now,” you said quietly, rubbing your arms to cover the goosebumps that rose.

“That’s okay.” He gave you a small smile, “I don’t know, either.”

You bit your lip and furrowed your eyebrows in worry before he spoke again.

"Friends?” He held out his hand, palm awaiting your own. Just like you did when you were kids and had to make up after a silly fight. You could never stay away from each other for too long. Guess that lasted, too. You looked up at him, and you knew he was thinking of the same memories.

"Yeah. Friends.” You pushed down the sudden pain at the term ‘friends’ and clasped your hand in his, eyes boring into his so immensely you forgot you were in a classroom, alone, with your hands held firmly together. Until his traveled south, holding his gaze on your lips that were swollen from the biting.

And, fuck, did you notice. You had to divert this, quick.

"Can I have my phone, though?”

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Over the next coming months, everything seemed different. The rebuilding started off easy - simple nods and smiles with no venom traced beneath them to greet each other from across the halfway, ‘hello’s when you were both in the same class, and some small talk here and there. Flash was uneasy about the whole situation, but stood by your side anyway. Still, he threw scowls at Peter whenever he’d come by to talk to you about anything, but was somehow able to bite his tongue and hold himself back.

You always told him how proud of him you were for him doing so.

You knew he only wanted to protect you from hurt, but he still respected your decision.

Peter, however, wasn’t satisfied with the limited interaction. He missed when you’d both try to head to new parts of the city by taking the next random train, or when you’d sneak into the movies and scare the living daylights out of people. It didn’t matter whether you were doing something crazy together or just chilling, he just wanted your presence.

He knew he couldn’t invite you to his table during lunch because that was when you hung out with your friends, mainly Flash, who Peter still despised, so he figured he'd have to ask you to go out with him. As friends, he had to remind himself. Constantly.

He would be a liar if he said he wouldn’t think about what you were doing when you weren’t around him, or what songs you were listening to when you were at home, or what you were thinking about before you fell asleep, or how your lips would feel on his. The questions kept him up at night, and when he found himself unable to sleep, even after a tiring day of being a superhero, he swung over to your house, landing carefully on your balcony and watching you peacefully sleeping while his heart raced in his chest at the adorable sight.

He wanted you. All of you. He always had, and he still remembered the exact day when he realized he'd fallen for you.

He never got over you. Even when he was with Liz, he pretended she was you. But, still, she never lived up to you. She didn’t have your smile, your laugh, your hair, your eyes. She had none of it. But you did. And you saved him, twice, even when he didn’t deserve it.

It was a shock when you admitted you loved him - that you still did. He didn’t know what to say, and he so desperately wanted to say it back, but knowing you, you wouldn’t believe it if he did. After all, everything he ever did was break you, and how can you deliberately hurt someone you apparently love? He wasn’t proud of it, at all. He wished he could go back and fix everything, which is why he vowed to do so in the present. He didn’t need a time machine, he just needed to show you that he changed.

He was better. He will be better.

Now, as he sat there watching you laugh with Flash and his buddies, he felt the slightest nudge of jealous boiling in his stomach. He was in, deep. He knew you were just friends with everyone, but the way your eyes sparkled when Flash whispered a joke in your ear made him anxious. He loved it. He loved seeing the small twist of your lips before the onset of your laughter, but he would’ve enjoyed it way more if he was the one causing it. The only thing that was anchoring him was the fact that you still loved him, but he knew if he didn’t do or say something about it soon, that love would fade away.

Without a second thought, he stood up, interrupting Ned’s Star Wars theory, straightened his sweater and marched over to your table. He felt eyes on his back following him through the cafeteria, and only when he reached the table did he hear the room fall quiet and started regretting his impulsive decision. The laughter died down, and it seemed as though every girl and boy at your table was throwing daggers at him. All except you, which was still new to him, but he could get used to it.

“Hey, Peter.” You greeted pleasantly, twisting your body slightly to give him your attention.

His eyes swept through the unhappy faces around you until they reached yours. The lightness in your eyes seemed to have calmed him down, and he enjoyed the way his name rolled off your tongue so sweetly. He took a deep breath, “H-hi Y/n.”

You smiled and tilted your head at him, waiting for him to tell you what he was doing here.

He coughed and scratched the back of his head, “C-can I, um, talk to you for a minute?”

Flash grimaced and raised his eyebrow, and Peter had to reassure him, “I-it’s just for a minute. Promise.”

“Yeah, it better be. You’re pretty much hogging her all the time,” he mumbled and rolled his eyes, the rest of the group agreeing with him. You blushed and squeezed Flash’s shoulder, “Relax, E. I’ll be back in a sec.” You threw him an ‘I’m sorry’ glance and stepped off the bench, leading the way outside the cafeteria doors with Peter hot on your heels like a lost puppy.

“So,” you said, stretching the word, “what’s up? Is everything okay with…” You looked around the hallway and leaned in to whisper, “your alter ego?”

Peter chuckled and rolled his eyes. He actually found it endearing that you cared so much about Spider-Man, and if he wasn't already in love with you, he would’ve been, just for the sake of your empathy. He had filled you in on some of the events that you missed out on, and he couldn’t deny how low his heart had sunk when he realized you’d been holding herself back from him.

When he had told you about everything, he had expected you to ask him question after question, each one weirder than the other, but instead you had just sat there, asking mundane, regular ones. Nothing that came out of your mouth sounded like the you he knew.

You still hadn’t fully trusted him. He felt the wall you’d built up around yourself to protect yourself from him, and honestly, he couldn’t blame you. It hurt him to see you so distant. He hoped that would change tonight.

“It’s Spider-Man, thank you very much.” He corrected sassily, "And, no, i-it’s not about that.”

His nerves began spiking as they made their way to his left hand where they caused it to shake. He wondered why he was so nervous right now. It wasn’t like he was asking you on a date. Or was he? Would you think it was a date because you’re in love with him? Should he ask you out?

“Hey,” you stood in front of him and hooked your finger beneath his chin, lifting his head up. He didn’t even realize his head sunk as he stopped talking. Your touch lit his body on fire, and it only worsened when he saw the look of concern in your eyes. But he loved every bit of it.

“You okay?” You asked, concerned.

“Yeah, yeah, um…I just…I have something I want to ask you.” He said quietly, rubbing his upper arm and looking around.

Mimicking the same movements he did when he left you.

Your own heart started beating faster in fear that he’d do it again. Was he going to do it again? Was he going to leave you again? Was this going to happen?

“Oh.” You cleared your throat, attempting to stop yourself from jumping to conclusions, "Yeah, okay. What…is it?”

Peter’s ears suddenly tuned into your drumming heartbeats, wondering what got them to be loud. You were nervous, but for what? “I just…” He gulped and inhaled deeply, “Aunt May would love to see you again. She asks me about you all the time and I figured…would you like to come over?”

He winced in fear, not knowing if he was going too far too soon, but when he saw relief flood your face and your heart calming down from its frenzy, he, too, relaxed.

“Yeah,” you said through nervous laugher, threading your fingers through your hair, “yeah, I’d love to. I’ve missed her burnt casseroles.”

Peter snorted, “She’s been trying to make this new lasagna..thing. Italians would be ashamed.”

“Save me some Tums?” You teased.

“Always.” Peter nudged you.

You giggled, "When do you want me to be there?”

“Is tonight around 6:30 okay?”

“Tonight around 6:30 is great.” You nodded.

“Cool.”

“Cool.”

You two stood in front of each other, exchanging embarrassed smiles through the pleasant air that surrounded you. Your relationship had always been like that - easy and fun and nothing like what it went through months ago. You both loved it. You loved how simple it was to be yourselves around each other. That was the way it was supposed to be, and that was Peter’s goal for your relationship. And maybe, just maybe, going a little farther than being friends was on his mind for tonight.

He thought it over during the sleepless nights. You admitted you loved him. He loved you back. Why complicate things? If you weren’t ready, then he was willing to wait for you, no matter how long it took. But if you were, what was the harm in knowing and acting upon it?

Tonight. Tonight, he had a plan.

Tonight, he thought as his eyes involuntarily made their way towards your lips, tonight was going to change everything.

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You rang the doorbell at exactly 6:32 PM. He had been in the bathroom, trying to brush his hair back and gel it to hold the curls in place. This was his fourth attempt at fixing his god awful hair that didn’t seem to want to cooperate. He ended up having the hair that of a wax figure, but he couldn’t do anything else, especially since he had gone into panic mode. He quickly sprayed a body spray, crinkling his nose at the strong smell while he listened to what was going on on the other side of the door.

Aunt May’s heels hurriedly and loudly clicked on the floor as she rushed to open the door.

“Oh, Y/n!” Aunt May gasped loudly, “Honey, you look absolutely gorgeous!” She squealed excitedly while you did the same. He was reminded by how long it had been since the pair had seen each other. He felt guilty for taking you away from Aunt May. You had always been like the little girl May always wanted but could never have.

He shook his head to get rid of the thoughts. He’s fixing it. 

He’s fixing it.

With one final look in the mirror, and another breath check, he waltzed out of the bathroom just in time to see you pull away from May’s grasp. And holy shit, May wasn’t kidding when she said you looked gorgeous.

Your hair was pulled back into a low ponytail with fallen strands to frame your face. You wore a short, off-shoulder, black lace dress and paired it with your signature converse that you have had for literally years. Casual, but absolutely stunning in Peter’s eyes.

“You don’t look a day over twenty, May.” You giggled when May waved her hand embarrassingly and ushered you in, pushing you towards a frozen Peter. He stood with his mouth slightly opened and here come the swarm of butterflies.

“Since when do you wear suits?” You teased as you walked over to him and wrapped your arms around his figure. He immediately hugged you back, almost forgetting that he had to reply as your sweet scent surrounded him in the most dizzying and delightful way ever.

“Since when do you clean up nicely?” He squeaked a tad too late, pulling back to get a good look at your face. You had applied some makeup earlier on. It wasn’t too heavy and wasn’t too light, either. It was perfect. You were perfect.

“You’re wearing Axe.” You pointed out.

“You’re- wait, how did you know the brand?"

“Flash used to use it all the time. It's really strong.” You patted his cheek twice and made your way towards the living room. This was your second home, but you had still set boundaries after the fight, so you didn’t do what you normally did, which was go into Peter’s room to change into his PJs. You didn’t know how far you could go, and how far you allowed yourself to go.

“Noted,” Peter said quietly, making a mental note to throw out the spray later on.

He stood still and blushed as he touched his cheek where you had patted him, not paying Aunt May any attention until she cleared her throat. She looked at Peter with suggesting eyes and moved her eyebrows up and down. He straightened up, knowing what May was thinking.

“Cut it out.” He whispered harshly, pointing an accusing finger at May.

“I’m not doing anything.” She threw her hands up in defense, feigning ignorance.

“Don’t give me that look, May.” He whined, "And please, please, don’t embarrass me.”

“No promises,” May sang as she squeezed his shoulder, making Peter sigh.

While both you and Peter had expected the dinner to be awkward and stiff, it was nothing like that. You sat beside each other like you always did and attempted to keep the burnt food down for as long as possible while commenting about how much better May had gotten at cooking.

You laughed, went over memories, and were quick to steer the conversation anytime it had begun to touch on superheroes or the rough patch you and Peter had gone through.

“Phew, I’m full.” You stated, placing a hand on your growling stomach. Truth be told, you were starving. It was like you had eaten air and not anything solid.

“Oh, are you sure, sweetheart? You used to eat two plates.” Aunt May said worryingly.

“It’s really filling,” Peter cut in to save you without communication. You subtly nodded in thanks. He did the same. He then stood up, took both your and his plate, and walked into the kitchen. The same routine he’d do when you were kids.

It was just past 8, and you and Peter were in the middle of washing and drying the dishes - and throwing water at each other every once in a while - when May passed by the kitchen.

“Kids,” she called out, heels pounding against the floor as she fervently moved around, “I’m gonna leave, the firm wants me to be there. It’s an emergency. Behave you two. My eyes are on you, even when I’m not here!”

“Right, and I’m gonna go change.” Peter said, ignoring May’s last sentence and drying his hands with a towel, "This is not the most comfortable thing on the planet.” He gestured to his suit, tugging on the collar that looked like it was suffocating him.

You giggled and watched him leave while saying goodbye to May, who swung the door open and then slammed it on her way out. You listened carefully, waiting until you heard the elevator outside ding, and then shut.

“You knew she was leaving!” You yelled out knowingly as you left the kitchen, waving your wet hands around, "What tricks do you have up your sleeves?”

“Forgot you’re a smart one.” He chuckled loudly. You decided to follow him into his room, leaning against the doorway when you got there. Your eyes widened when you saw him standing beside his window, pushing his hand against his chest as the spidey-suit tightened around his body. You hoped to God he wouldn’t hear how fast your heart was beating.

“I’m sorry, do you casually lounge around in your suit? D-do you sleep in it? Why are you wearing it?” You asked curiously, firing question after question to fill his ears with something louder than your heartbeats.

“Come on, let me show you what I do for fun.” He said, placing one hand on the open window frame and extending the other towards you, but you hesitated.

“Uh,” You stepped back, legs feeling like jello, “y-you don’t have a balcony. You know that, right?”

He frowned beneath the mask, shoulders lightly slumping. He thought everything was going great. He wondered where he went wrong, why you looked so distraught, like you’d seen a ghost.

As he was trying to figure it out, you, on the other hand, were on the verge of a panic attack. The last time you had reached for someone’s hand was Liz’s, and you had nearly died. What if you slipped? What if you fell? What if, this time, your fate was to leave this earth forever?

You could feel the sweat start to pile up on your forehead as the walls began to close in around you. You closed your eyes as the memories ran past your closed lids, even though you bid them to stop. The noises, the feelings, you felt them.

You were reliving the horrific memories, but you imagined a different scenario that ended with a ceaseless silence that would swallow you whole.

Peter, by that time, had realized. He’d heard the loud thumping and labored breathing and pieced it together. Now, he thought, now was the time to prove to you that you could trust him with your life.

He carefully walked over to you and palmed your face. When you opened your eyes, a light redness had overtaken what was once white, your pupils were dilated, your lip was quivering. He sketched over your face, recognizing all the signs and memorizing new ones you’d developed in case this happened again. Luckily, he knew how to calm you down, and that’s exactly what he did.

“Hey,” He softly said, thumb caressing your cheek, “you’re going to be okay. I won’t let you fall, y/n/n.”

“I…” You couldn’t finish your sentence, the tears beginning to skate down your face and clogging your ability to speak.

“Have I ever let you fall?” He asked, catching the tears as they fell.

Has he ever let you fall?

And at that moment you realized, no. No, he didn’t. Even when he was miles away, he still showed up to save you. Even when you ruined his life and made him miserable he was still there for you. Even when you didn’t deserve it, he came through. He always did. You had thought of him as an anchor, and there he was, always there to guide you to safety.

“Have I?” He repeated, never breaking eye contact as he gently placed his forehead against yours.

You quickly shook your head and sniffed, willing yourself to trust him, to restore your faith in him once again. You saw how he changed and how badly he wanted you to do so. It was now your turn.

Feeling him beside you alone, his warmth transferring onto you, made you better already. You could trust him. You could trust him. Your mind eased itself, and you were able to control yourself, packing all the signs of mistrust and shoving it in the back of your mind, just for the moment.

“Come on,” He held your hand, slowly leading you to his open window. You nervously swallowed the lump in your throat as he let go of you to crouch his way out of the window, sticking to the wall beside it.

Your heart beat erratically when all you could see was the New York skyline. He just disappeared.

“Well?” You heard him say, sticking his palm into his room, “You coming or what?”

Again, you wanted to do nothing but yell out how much of a mistake this was, how dangerous it could be. You wanted to run and forget you ever knew about his secret. You knew he was only being pushy because that’s the only way he ever got you to get over something. You were glad he remembered that, but in this moment, you weren’t too pleased about his magnificent memory.

You slowly reached out your own shaky hand, encasing it with his as you closed your eyes in fear.

Somehow, he had lifted you from the room and allowed you to wrap yourself around his body. You wondered how this would look like to anyone that was watching. Spider-Man hugging a girl with one arm while the other clung to a fucking brick wall.

Physics, everyone.

“Hang on.” He warned, lunging off the wall and shooting his webs at whatever he was shooting at. The jump had taken you by surprise. So much so that you dug your head into his neck fearfully, and screamed into his ear. Your shrieks echoed through the night, and it only took you a minute to open your eyes and stop screaming.

The bright lights swooshed past you, as did hundreds of waving people, and soon, you were letting out loud laughter of fun while waving back at them in glee.

Your hair was whipping in all directions, sometimes smacking you in the face (which resulted in strands ending up in your mouth), but it felt like a rollercoaster. At some point, Peter even flipped in the air, and you swore you had never felt freer. Which might’ve been a result of your dress flipping upwards.

A few minutes into swinging through the busy streets in your best friend’s arms, you realized he had taken you into a much calmer, quieter place. So, you stopped squealing and giggling, sighing contently and resting your head on Peter’s shoulder.

But, of course, you had to give him shit when he landed for the stunt he pulled.

“Oh, my God. Oh my God, you fucking dumbass!” You screamed, punching his chest that was rattling with laughter like yours was, punctuating every word, “I’m.” Punch, “Pretty.” Punch, “Sure.” Punch, “Half.” Punch, “Of.” Punch, “New-“ Punch, “-Fucking-“ Punch, "-York.” Punch, “Saw.” Punch, “My.” Punch, "Underwear!”

When Peter flipped in the air, you were almost entirely sure you had flashed all the citizens of New York.

What a sight to see, huh?

“All right, all right, easy, tiger.” He snickered, gripping both wrists with both his hands, watching you pout and blow a strand of hair away from your face, only for it to fall again. A layer of pink had coated your cheeks, your teeth biting your lip to keep it from stretching into a large smile.

He chuckled and shook his head, now holding both wrists with one hand while the other tore his mask off. He softly brushed the hair away from your eyes and tucked it behind your ear, and he swore the puppy eyes you were giving him was being done on purpose, yet he couldn’t stop himself from staring.

He cleared his throat and looking away to hide the blush.

“Why are we here?” You questioned, eyes bouncing around as you recognized the park you were currently in.

“Uh,” he awkwardly laughed, “I-I have a surprise! No peeking!” He shoved his hands on top of your eyes, shielding your vision from his ’surprise’, and turned your body around so that your back was to him.

“Okay…” You suspiciously said, eyebrows brushing against Peter’s hand, “You sure you don’t wanna web my eyes shut?” You joked.

“Actually,” Peter said, now guiding you towards…whatever the surprise was, "that’s not a bad idea..” You could almost hear the smirk in his voice, and panicked when he used one hand to cover both while the other removed itself.

“I was kidding!” You exclaimed, holding the hand on your face and pushing it against you to keep it in place.

You heard a light laugh from him, as he put his hand back and continued guiding your steps forward. By the time you reached the spot, he snatched his hands away and winced in fear of your reaction, cowering behind you.

It was a sight, truly.

"A picnic..at night,” You stated, quite baffled. This was definitely the last thing you expected from Peter. Grand gestures weren’t exactly his thing, but my God, did you love it.

In the middle of a clearing of the playground you went to all the time lay a checkered red and white blanket that was being held down by a large picnic basket. The moon was shining brightly tonight, so there was practically no need for any other source of light. However, the trees had been decorated with fairy lights that were beautifully wrapped around the trunks.

It was simply stunning.

While you stayed silent, still trying to process the view ahead of you, Peter, took the long absence of sound as a bad sign, and was hit with anxiety.

“You.. we don’t have to- I-if you’re not comfortable-“ He stuttered, rubbing the back of his head and looking around, "or, I-if you don’t like it, I could just-”

“Peter,” You placed a gentle hand on his arm and slowly brought it down, "I like it.”

You smiled gratefully at his wobbly one, looking into his adorable doe eyes that shone from the fairy lights that reflected in his irises. The yellow tint of the lights brought out the eye crinkles and freckles that you loved dearly, and you found yourself falling for him over and over again.

Your eyes shifted to the right, catching something you didn’t see in the beginning.

“Is that our scrapbook?!” You said in surprise, pointing at the unmistakable, sparkling album that lay in the middle of the blanket.

"You’ve never shown it to me, you hogger! You just took it and I never saw it again.” You laughed, tucking your dress beneath your knees as you sat and held the thick book in your hands. Funny, you never thought Peter would keep the scrapbook. After your fight, you assumed he either burned or threw everything that reminded him of you.

But, unknowingly to you, Peter couldn’t bear the thought of doing so, which is why it hurt him that you did that, though he understood why you did it. Still, he couldn’t do it. He kept all the memories, and he’d look through them, every single night, wondering if he’d made the right choice.

“Yeah, I figured we could look through the pictures while we eat,” Peter suggested, following and sitting across from you. He opened the basket and pulled out two wrapped club sandwiches. It was the only thing Peter could prepare with the short amount of time he had and without Aunt May knowing.

He held it out for you to grab, but you were too busy smiling fondly at the cover while your fingers traced the sparkly block letter stickers, “Y/N AND PETER’S FRIENDSHIP” over and over again.

Oh, how he wished he could freeze time to take a photograph of this moment.

You sighed happily and looked up, taking the sandwich from him, “Real fancy, Parker.” You smirked, nodding to the sandwich as you unwrapped it and took a bite.

“It's about to get even fancier,” He smiled smugly, pulling out two steel shaker cups and raising his eyebrow while shaking them side to side.

“Chewy balls?” You gasped, mouth full of food. Peter nodded, which prompted you to quickly swallow the food and reach out for the cup.

He plopped a blue swirly straw, your favorite, into your drink and held up his own.

“Cheers,” He said.

“Cheers,” You giggled, clinking your cup with his before sipping through the straw.

You immediately made a face and gagged as Peter did the same, “Ew. What is in this?”

“Chocolate, avocado, and pumpkin, I think.” Peter said with a grimace, eyeing his own drink with disgust.

“It’s terrible!” You laughed, wiping your mouth with your arm, “What’s yours?” You asked, clearing your throat. You were pretty sure there was a large piece of pumpkin stuck in your throat.

“Sweet potato and caramel corn,” he replied, exchanging his drink with yours, like always, and taking a sip. You clicked your tongue against the roof of your mouth and hummed surprisingly.

“Not bad,” you stated, taking another sip.

“Yours isn’t too bad, either.”

“We’re fucking gross.” You shook your head and laughed.

“Right? We should never trust a place named Chewy Balls, yet here we are, enjoying their weird milkshakes."

“I feel like we’re the only two idiots who are keeping the store open.”

And that was how the majority of the night went. You both sat together and filled each other in on everything you once couldn’t.

Peter felt relieved.

It was the first time he had hung out with you alone without Flash putting him on a time limit or tagging along begrudgingly. He asked about your friendship with the bully, prompting you to tell the story about how you two connected.

He rolled his eyes a few times, but so did you when you asked about Liz, trying to seem like you weren’t interested, but he sensed it. He sensed the jealously, and normally he would tease you for it, but he didn’t this time.

You didn’t look at him until he assured you that there was nothing.

Because, truly, and thankfully, there was nothing between him and Liz.

The night continued with you flipping through the scrapbook and reminiscing about your juvenile, naive days, pointing out little details the other hadn’t known about certain photos.

That’s when it was brought up.

You gasped loudly, pointing at the picture before you as you flipped to the last page, “Is that the night of our sixth grade dance? The one we spent at-“

“Johnny Rockets,” Peter said at the same time you did.

He had moved closer to you, still on opposite ends, but with his knee caps touching yours. The pictures were upside down for him, but he didn’t mind. He knew the scrapbook by heart, anyway.

Your finger was on his absolute favorite photo of all time. You, in your Homecoming dress, dabbing Peter’s ruined suit with a napkin while laughing with closed eyes and a hand on your chest. Peter, on the other hand, was gawking at you with a love sick smile, completely ignoring the alarming amount of milk that was running down his nose.

“Aww. That was the first time Aunt May teased us for being too ‘couple-y.” You cooed.

Peter raised his head, “What? Really?”

“Yeah. She kept telling me how you had a crush on me and that it was clear I did too and how she wanted grandkids and blah, blah, blah.” You giggled, failing to notice Peter’s widened eyes and beet red face.

“I mean, can you blame her?” You continued with a smirk, tracing over Peter’s lovestruck face in the photo, “you kept staring at me, even when she told you to smile and look at the camera.”

You kept things light, like you always did. It wasn’t like this wasn’t unusual in your dynamic. Throughout the years, you had kept teasing him about his so-called crush on you while he rolled his eyes and denied it.

He caught a sudden furrow that settled in the middle of your eyebrows. Your finger traced his face again, feeling a slight bump under his mouth. Without hesitation, you dug your fingers beneath the badly glued picture, and pulled out whatever was below.

A folded, blue sticky note.

And only then did Peter remember what was written on it. He watched you unfold it, eyes reading the only three words on the note.

“'Tell her soon'?” You read off the note, “Tell me what?” You wondered.

That was the push he needed. With a shaky intake of air, he carefully took the book and closed it, placing it to the side for the time being.

He met your eyes, and tried to remember parts of his sixth grade speech, inputting new pieces that he thought would be fit. He grabbed your hands, and licked his lips.

“Y/n,” He started, carefully watching your face and dissecting the confusion, “You’re my best friend, and throughout the years, you’ve proven to me, time and time again, that you always will be, even if I don’t deserve it. You were there for me when I lost Uncle Ben,” He felt tears prick at his eyes and a lump in his throat, but continued despite the ache of the memories, “You invited Aunt May and me to Thanksgiving every year so that we wouldn’t have to eat burnt turkey alone, you helped her find her job, you put me back on my feet when I needed it...

“I..I can't tell you how much you mean to me, how thoughtful and kind you are, and how sorry I am for hurting you. Which…which is why I think you have the right to know something. About the day the picture was taken.”

And suddenly, he wasn’t nervous at all.

A calming peace washed over him when he looked into her eyes. She had that effect.

"That was the day I fell in love with you.” He admitted with ease.

You went through multiple emotions at once, heart and mind freezing in union as his confession came to light.

“You…what?” You whispered, caught off guard.

“I didn’t ask you to go to the dance with me because you were my best friend. I asked you because I had feelings for you, for a really long time, too. It started in the second grade, but every year I found myself getting deeper and deeper. Then, that night,” He paused for a moment to laugh and roll his eyes, “I should’ve fallen in love with you when we were dancing under the lights and all that, but, I didn’t.”

You tilted your head, not understanding where he was going with this.

“I fell in love with you afterward, when Aunt May picked us up and took us to Johnny Rockets on Jackson Mill Road and we all sat at the second to last table on the left side of the restaurant.” He looked up at the sky and sighed fondly, remembering the way he felt like it was yesterday, “You ordered a Peanut Butter Banana milkshake and I got the Oreo one because I wanted to be a basic bitch. And then when we sat down, we started telling each other jokes, and you made me laugh so hard I swear a fucking piece of Oreo came out of my nose.”

You snorted, remembering how red Peter’s face got when there was milk dripping down his nose.

“I remember it hurting like a bitch.” Peter continued, "I mean, I felt like ripping my nose off. But your laughter…I was in pain, but by God, I felt like that laugh, loud snorts and all, could heal every ache in my body. And then I remember thinking, 'I want to spend the rest of my life hearing that sound’. And it hit me.”

He reached out to you, delicately encasing both your hands in his, watching as his thumb ran over your knuckles.

"It hit me, Y/n L/n, at the most unexpected and least romantic time, that I had fallen in love with you, right then and there. And I never stopped.”

He looked up, glassy eyes lining up with yours.

“Y/n/n, I love you. I love all of you. Every bad aspect and every good one, too. And I want you. I want all of you. I want to make you happy and be the cause of your smiles and laughs, and I want to be there at your worst and at your best. I’m nothing without you, Y/n. You made me who I am, and I don’t want to be without you ever again. And if you’re not ready then I’ll wait forever for you, but I wanted to let you know that I am deeply in love with your annoying ass, and I’ll spend every minute of the rest of my life showing you if your stubborn self would let me.”

You gave him a watery laugh, feeling your heart warm instantly at his moving words. You always doubted he had loved you like you did, but hearing him say the three words, over and over again, felt like pure euphoria. You were about to speak when he cut you off.

“And I’m sorry.” He said, face falling as he failed to notice your lovesick smile, “I’m sorry I pushed you away, I’m sorry I hurt you, I’m sorry I didn’t say it back when we fought, I’m sorry I-"

“Shut up,” You rolled your eyes, impatiently tugging at his shoulders and pulling him in for a long awaited kiss. You moved your hand to rest over his chest where you felt the loud thumping of his heart below your palm, causing you to smile into the kiss.

“I love you,” He said against your lips, placing his hands on your waist and pulling you closer. The love between the two of you burst like a thousand fireworks, like a thousand suns warming you up entirely. You wanted to feel it forever.

“I love you.” You whispered it back.

When the air was starting to become limited, you pulled back, instead placing your forehead against his to stop the dizziness.

“There’s no way you did all this yourself.” You shook your head, raising your eyebrow with a sultry smile.

Peter drew back, giving you an offended look.

“You don’t think I did?” He scoffed.

“Of course he didn’t!” A voice squealed from behind you, causing you to jump into Peter’s arms where you landed on his lap with your arms around his neck.

He wasn’t complaining.

You quickly turned around to look for the source, and immediately relaxed when you found Ned jumping around and fanning himself while screaming “Oh my God!” Over and over again.

“YOU KISSED! YOU FINALLY KISSED!” Ned shrieked, running circles around you and Peter.

“I’m sorry, were you here this whole time?” You asked, slightly disturbed when he paused for a moment and mumbled an embarrassed “no”.

“You know this dude?” You turned to Peter, tilting your head and pointing at Ned.

“I’ve never seen him in my life.” Peter denied playfully.

“So he’s not the one who helped you with all this?” You gestured to the lights and picnic.

Peter feigned ignorance, “Uh, no. No, I did it myself.”

“Did you, Spider-boy?” You teased, adjusting yourself on Peter’s lap.

“I did, and it took a lot of time. I think I deserve a thank you gift.” He gave your waist a squeeze, prompting you to giggle.

“And what would you like?”

“I was thinking a kiss?”

“Yes!” Ned butted in once more, “One picture for the scrapbook!” He held up his phone and pointed it at the both of you, waiting for you to make a move.

“Give the people what they want?” You shrugged.

“Give the people what they want.” Peter agreed, delicately placing his lips on yours once more, feeling a white flash run across his eyelids.

You both felt like you were sealed in a little bubble together, the loud squeals coming from Ned now purely a background noise as your mind wrapped around Peter and only Peter. He made you believe in love again, in faith, in humanity. He was and always will be your anchor, and despite the pain you had to endure, you thought that maybe, just maybe, at the end of the story, all the hurt was worth it.

Tags: @takashima-rei, @peachescream06, @hayhays

Previous Chapter 

All The Hurt Masterlist

Main Masterlist

[marvelobsessedteenager]

just wanted to say i absolutely love the new chapter, i was crying by the end of it 😭i love the series, sending all my love & hugs your way <3

oh man stop you’re gonna make me cry 🥺 i promise there’s a happy ending 🥰 thank you for the love! you’re very sweet 🥺🥺

[marvelobsessedteenager]

All The Hurt - Chapter 6

Pairing: Peter Parker x fem!reader

Warnings: ANGST, Peter was an ass, reader is a hurt and petty bitch, fluff to make up for the angst, curse words, lots of “coincidences”

Word count: 4.9k

A/n: This one’s gonna hurt..we’re nearing the end :3

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You were driving recklessly, you knew. You were in no condition to drive, the world around you blurring into blurbs of mixed sounds and colors, and in the middle of it all was black smoke, like a monster of threatened death. Your eyes were glued to it, not even leaving it when you passed multiple red lights, nor when you went way above the speed limit, nor when the camera had caught you doing so.

All you thought about was him. You couldn’t help but imagine the worst-case scenario, which only made you drive faster, pure terror gripping your poor heart in painful ways.

You sloppily drifted the car into a parking spot once you got there and stared up into the smoke, already feeling the fumes creep up your lungs. It looked much bigger up close, and before you knew it, you were slamming your car door and running into the flames, completely forgetting to lock your car.

Fear was shaking you to your core as memories of Delmar’s and DC made their way to the top of your head, but you attempted to push them down.

For Peter.

Heavy smoke filled your lungs and caused your eyes to water as you ripped a part of your dress and tied it around your nose and mouth, making your way through hell on Earth. Fire, scalding beneath your bare feet, lined their way through the sand, aggressively marking their territory, and only growing angrier by the minute.

You coughed and hissed through the blaze, screaming out Peter’s name in hopes that he would answer. That he would be alive to do so. Your throat was raw and burned as you continued calling out for him, wafting away the thick smoke that blocked your vision. The fire crept up towards the ends of your dress, causing most of the fabric at the bottom to turn into ashes.

It was difficult to even see, let alone breathe, but the sound of gruff coughing provided you with a path. You followed the noise, feet pushing hard against the dull sand that threatened to pull you in, but you ran anyway.

You were heaving by the time that you saw them. Two figures lay on their backs, one significantly smaller than the other - one you recognized.

You fell down beside him, “P-Peter?” Your eyes scanned his face, bloodied and bruised with scabs that littered it.

Please, please.

“Peter?” You asked again, watching closely for any movement, “Hey! Hey, wake up!” You slapped his cheek a couple times before picking up his arm and letting it go, watching it lifelessly drop beside him.

No.

You placed your hand on his chest, moving it around fervently, panic starting to settle in when you didn’t hear anything. You shakily pushed two fingers against his neck, praying and praying that you’d feel a pulse. It didn’t matter if it was strong or not. You just wanted to feel something.

Anything.

And yet, you felt nothing.

Nothing at all.

You breathed heavily, starting to feel tears of anger and immense sadness make their way to your eyes, but you refused to give up. You coughed some more, feeling your chest tighten painfully as you climbed on top of Peter, hands above the center of his chest and knees on either side of his body.

Thirty compressions, two rescue breaths.

One, two, three, four.

You counted and counted, feeling like someone had wrapped barbwires around your throat and pulled until your face felt wet. Your tears fell down onto his bloodied cheeks, creating a clear trail through the gathered dirt.

Twenty-nine, thirty.

You pressed your lips against his chapped ones, the taste of metal on your tongue as you supplied him with the limited air that remained within you, pulling back to see if it did anything.

Still nothing.

“Come on, Parker.” You continued pushing, harder this time, "Come on, Pete, breathe, breathe, please! Don’t leave me, come on, come on! Wake up, Peter!”

You screamed out in agony as you pressed against his chest, your arms aching and sore but not ready to let go.

Save him.

Eight, nine, ten.

If only you’d gotten there sooner.

Eleven, twelve, thirteen.

You stared up into the night sky, and you couldn’t help but plead its creator for a miracle. "Turn back time!" You cried in between heaves, "I’ll do anything. Please!”

It felt as if the world was against you, using Peter as a way to lure you into another world of emotions and rollercoasters, and now they were taking him from you - again. But this time, you had the chance to keep him. If you’d been here sooner, maybe you could’ve saved the boy who laid below you.

“I love you.” You bawled, the heel of your hand burning into his septum, “Please don’t leave me. I need you. I need you.”

Two rescue breaths.

You pulled back, bottom lip shaking as you held his still face in your hands, wiping away the dirt and saltwater that covered the pale skin below, feeling the hope you had within you dull. You placed your forehead on his, noses touching as you breathed into him one more time.

Just one more time.

You pulled back, once again staring to see any movement. Anything.

But there was nothing.

Nothing but a black, endless void of silence - a silence that could’ve been filled with his laughter and joy that could light up a planet. His stupid stories that he would forget he told you, but you wouldn’t tell him, just to hear his excitement when he said it.

You’d give anything to hear his voice again.

You hugged him tightly as your head heavily fell against his frozen chest, harsh sobs wracking through you, accompanied by unimaginable pain and memories you were too fond of to forget. The world spun around you, and you laid there with the faded love of your life. He was gone, and it was all because of you.

“I’m sorry,” you wheezed, “I’m so sorry, Peter.”

You couldn’t save him.

This is all your fault.

Quick breaths made their way in and out as you felt your body on the brink of a shut down from the lack of oxygen, hands digging into his suit as your eyes began to slowly close while you whispered apologies through little heaves of air.

Until you felt an inflation.

Then a deflation.

You slowly sat up, fighting through the tiredness as you placed your hand on his chest, feeling a weak pulse drum beneath your fingertips.

Just to make sure you weren’t going insane, you pressed your ear against his chest.

Thump-thump, thump-thump.

You couldn’t help the small laugh that came from you. You cried, placing a gentle kiss on Peter’s forehead, feeling a small puff of air come from his mouth as you did so.

“I got you,” You mumbled against his head, “we’re okay.”

A low grunt came from beside you, and you wiped your eyes and looked to your right, squinting through the smoke. A man with much fewer bruises than Peter lay beside you, just beginning to twist and turn.

Boiling anger ran through your veins, your hands shaking with the urge to murder Liz’s dad, and you would have done it had you not needed to leave as fast as you could.

The air around you was too hard to breathe, and if you didn’t leave, you would’ve saved Peter for nothing.

Quickly, you tore the web-shooters off of Peter’s wrist and tried your best to web Liz’s dad up as much as you could. While doing so, his teary eyes locked with yours, watching you in defeat. He didn’t even try to fight back.

You shook your head at him, coughed some more, then ripped off another part of your dress, using the piece of fabric to cover Peter’s mouth and nose. You then proceeded to carry Peter on your back as you weaved through the thick smoke, falling a couple of times. Though your legs ached and your lungs burned, you kept going, eventually falling to your knees and crawling with Peter’s body on top of you until you reached your car, carefully laying him down on the backseats.

You shook your head of the dizziness and drove away, leaving the mess behind for the authorities to deal with.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

For hours you sat beside Peter on your bed and cleaned his bloody face with a wet rag, the shock still bolting through you like lightning, screams and ragged breaths echoing in your empty mind. Your fingers tingled with memories of the vacancy they felt beneath them when Peter’s chest was still, when he gave no evidence that he was alive. It was almost like you were reliving the memories like they happened years ago. But it was so vivid. You’d stare into space, sharp pains slicing through you as they’d appear before you.

You watched him like an eagle, worried that his breathing would somehow stop. You worried he’d slip away like he did hours ago. You worried he’d die, and that you wouldn’t be able to save him again.

You contemplated leaving him, knowing that you should take some time to care for yourself, but your feet couldn’t show you out the door. They were stuck, frozen in spot as you watched his chest rise and fall. The bags under his eyes stood out against his pale skin, and you wondered how often he slept.

If he slept.

You didn't know what you’d say when he’d wake up. You didn’t even know if he’d wake up. Shivers went down your spine when you thought of that possibility, but you knew you shouldn’t dwell on it, so you tried not to.

You felt a sudden dip in the empty spot beside you, but didn’t dare look away from Peter. A gentle hand placed itself on your shoulder, and a soft voice followed, “Y/n..” Jane called out. You continued to blankly blink at Peter, and only realized how dry your eyes were when Jane moved her hand and cupped your face, guiding your vision to hers.

“Y/n, honey, you need to go wash up. I’ll look after him.”

“I’m good, J.” You said. You trusted Jane with your life, and therefore trusted her with Peter’s, too, but you simply couldn’t leave him. You let it happen once. You should’ve stopped him, or gone after him the moment he left. But you didn’t. And look where that got you.

You were still dirty and covered in debris with first and second degree burns on the soles of your feet, but you paid them no attention. When you parked outside your house, you ran up to the door and rang it as many times as possible. You made it back to your car, crying out for Jane’s help and ignoring all questions she was throwing your way. You both carried Peter to your room, and only when you told her you’d change his clothes did she leave.

You were lucky Peter used to undress in front of you without a care in the world, but still felt awkward as you replaced his suit with some of his clothes you still had in your closet - ones you wore so frequently it smelt like you instead of him.

Jane came by afterward to help stitch him up, and spoke no words. She didn’t need to, though. It was clear she understood everything. She gave you clothes to change into, and stayed with Peter while you changed in a record-breaking time. You hadn’t washed yourself, too scared to leave Peter for too long.

“Sweetie..” She sighed, “you can’t do this. You need to take care of yourself, too.”

“I’m fine, Jane. I just need to be here.”

She gave you a sympathetic smile and a small nod, “Let me go get you some water, okay?” She stood tall before giving your shoulder a squeeze, leaving you alone with an unconscious body - one that could stay that way for God knows how long.

---------------------------------------------------------------------

It was just past 3 AM when you heard the low sound of groaning. You were nearly asleep by the time that Peter’s eyes slowly fluttered open, no doubt fighting the soreness of his body. He was lucky he didn’t obtain any serious injuries.

He was lucky he was even alive.

“You’re awake.” You said, an eerie numbness coating your words. You said it in a way that was calm. Too calm for someone who held their dead ex-best friend in her arms. You shivered at the memory and wrapped your arms around yourself, standing up and going over to grab the glass of water Jane had brought over.

“Y/n?” He squinted his eyes at you, his voice husky and dry as he began coughing. You rushed to his side and helped him sit up, placing the rim of the mug against his lips. He downed the water and sighed in relief, head lolling back against the headboard.

“Where am I?” He said, rubbing his eyes tiredly.

“Look around you, Pete.” You gestured to your surroundings. His head followed his eyes’ directions as they wandered around your room. Not much has changed since the last time he’d been here, save for a few more books on your bookshelf, a new rug, and-

And you took down the photos and cards. The board you both spent hours on.

His head cocked to the side, a rush of pain shooting up his chest. But this sting wasn’t from the fight. This wasn’t something that could be healed with antibiotics.

You noticed him zeroing in on the bare wall and cleared your throat loudly to divert his attention.

“You-” died, “-you passed out. Next to the wings dude and I saw and-“

“Mr. Stark’s stuff!” He realized, planting his feet on the ground and wobbly standing up, grabbing the top of the headboard to stabilize himself as he did, “I-I have to-“

You gently pushed him back down onto the bed, “No, no, no. You got the guy.”

He blinked up at you, confusion swirling in those warm brown eyes until he put two and two together, eyebrows creasing.

“How did you know where I was?” He asked, looking up at you with accusing eyes, “H-how am I here?”

You bit your lip and took your shaky hands off of his shoulders, knowing he knew the answer. He just wanted to hear you say it. The thumping of your heart became louder in your ears, but you replied anyway.

“I...” You gulped, “I went after you.”

“What?! Why?” He incredulously asked, his voice rising to his height as he towered above you, fire burning beneath his piercing stare, "Why would you do that?! It could’ve been dangerous, Y/n! You could’ve gotten hurt!”

“I could’ve gotten hurt?!” You yelled back, blood suddenly boiling, "I’m fine, have you seen yourself? You were bloodied and bruised and passed out beside him and he was awake! He would’ve murdered your ass! I believe it’s called thank you!”

“Thank you?! I had it handled!” His feet bumped into yours, head bowing until his nose nearly touched yours. You saw an angry vein popping from his neck to his forehead, pushing against the skin and you wanted to do nothing but smooth it back into its place. But you were too furious to do so.  

“Oh, yeah, it totally looked like things were under control considering a giant ass plane crashed out of nowhere, you were surrounded by fire and smoke, and there was a guy with wings who was ready to tear you to pieces!”

“Why do you care anyway?! Why are you trying to help? You just suddenly stopped wanting to make my life miserable? For what? To get even more popular? To tell your friends that you helped Spider-Man? You’re as fake as they come!”

The color drained from his face the second the words slipped, guilt and regret painted all over his features as he stood in shock at his own words.

And that, you realized, was your last straw.

You backed away from him like he had burnt you, letting out an empty laugh as he shook his head, ready to take back what he said, but now it was your turn to speak.

“Wait-"

“Fake? You wanna talk about fake? If I was fake, why haven’t I told anyone your secret? Why haven’t I just told the entire school who you really are? Why haven’t I told the world that the person behind the mask is really a selfish, naive high school teenager? Hell, if I was “fake” I would’ve let you die, because maybe then my life can piece itself back together after you fucking tore it apart!"

Your heart raced against your ribcage, adrenaline pumping from your head to your toes at lightning speed. You felt it everywhere as you backed him into the corner of your room.

You knew you had to stop and pick up the pieces of dignity he had left of you but you couldn’t. You couldn’t stop for the life of you. The confessions that tumbled from your lips were strong enough to push the little voice in your head that was begging you to stop.

This isn’t right, it said.

He was dead. He died. And here you were, screaming your head off at him.

But you just couldn’t stop the pain from forming into words. They only got even more raw and real as you fired at him, aiming deep into his soul directly into his heart with the intention to painfully crush.

And he felt it.

“What on fucking earth do you think happened to me after you vanished from my life, huh? What was I supposed to think when my best friend of years just decides to drop me and pretend like he doesn’t know me? What’s worse than that is that you carried on like I never meant anything to you! But you meant the fucking world to me! I was in love with you for fuck’s sake! But apparently, I wasn’t even good enough for you to give me a reason as to why you left, or good enough for you to stay! You of all fucking people should not talk about being fake!”

Your voice cracked and ached, but you showed no sympathy, even after his shoulders shrunk in their place. Frankly, all you saw were red and blue. Two dangerous colors that shouldn’t ever mix.

“You died, Peter! YOU DIED! You laid there with no fucking heartbeat, no breaths, absolutely nothing! What was I supposed to do? Just leave you? I wish I had the heart to do that but I don’t! I fucking don’t! No matter how much you hurt me, I’ll still be there for you like the fucking dumbass that I am because I’m still in love with you and I always fucking will be, even when I shouldn’t be!”

You were panting and out of breath, like you’d just ran laps upon laps. Your throat was in desperate need of liquid, head pounding against your skull painfully as your tongue felt heavy in your mouth, like someone was holding it down.

His eyes seem to water, but you couldn’t see past the buildup of angry tears that gathered on your waterline and dropped onto the rug below you.

Peter looked shocked, guilty, and afraid. He’d never seen you blow up like this before, much less on him. But he’d also never truly known just how badly he hurt you. No fight has ever been this big. No fight had ever shattered his heart and swathed him up in remorse as he watched you furiously wipe at the tears that had slipped past the barriers of your eyes.

The tears he caused, and that was enough to make his throat tighten and mind turn into mush.

You silently stepped back when you realized what you’d said, berating yourself for exposing your secret. You confessed. You confessed more than you should’ve, and you regretted it.

You were right back to square one. You didn’t want to look at him. You still felt that burning rage of hatred inside you, only this time it wasn’t directed towards him. It was directed towards yourself, for all the times you chose to listen to your heart over your brain.

Now was one of them.

And because of that, you knew he couldn’t look at you the same way again. You couldn’t look at yourself the same way, either.

“Y/n,” He called out, voice breaking like his demeanor, "I didn’t-"

“Get out.” You demanded, voice stern despite how broken and vulnerable you appeared.

He faltered, hand pausing in the air from when it was going to reach out to grab yours, “What?”

“Get out of my house, Parker.”

A beat of tense silence passed. You didn’t want to know what he was thinking. You knew what he was going to say, and you didn’t want to hear it. You didn’t want him to apologize and make amends. You weren’t going to set yourself up for failure and heartbreak again, especially if he didn’t leave at this moment.

He wasn’t going to say it back, and that was enough to make you hate yourself for loving him for all these years, all the while he didn’t feel a single thing back.

“Y/n, just listen to me-"

“I said-” you furiously grabbed his mask and suit and threw them at his chest, only getting angrier when he actually caught them, “-get out! Now!”

“Y/n/n,” He said, sounding like he whimpering in pain. But you knew he didn’t care. It was all an act. He showed how he truly felt about you in the heat of the moment, and those words can never be forgotten.

“Don’t call me that. Don’t fucking call me that. Just get the fuck out of my house.” You walked to the door and held it open for him, anxiously waiting for when he’d leave as your fingers fervently drummed against the handle.

He sighed, his fists clutching the fabric so hard it would burst if it were glass. A gulp could be heard as he padded across the room, pausing to whisper ’I’ll talk to you soon' and walking out, flinching when you slammed the door behind him.

You paced the length of your room with ragged breaths and your hands on your head, feeling an onset of a meltdown as the words made their way in and out of your mind. Hot tears heavily weighed you down until you fell to the ground beside your bed, cradling your knees to your chest and rocking back and forth, letting out the most painful wail you ever have in your life.

That night, you cried your hardest, the tears enough to fill buckets upon buckets. You wept until you were left out of breath, until you were defeated by the tiredness.

You were just...

Done.

Your exhaustion quickly knocked you out as you fell asleep on the ground with smeared makeup, a dirty face, and a clogged nose, unaware of the concerned eyes that watched you from your balcony with an aching heart.

——————————-

You somehow ended up in your bed with a foggy memory, the morning sun welcoming you with its rays that warmed you up, spewing a happy yellow across your tired body through the openings of your curtains. They promised you joy, and for a moment, you delightedly basked in them.

Until the memories of last night hit you like an oncoming bus, causing a throbbing, sinking feeling to lodge itself in your chest. What was worse was when you remembered today was Monday, a school day in which you’d most probably see him again.

You sighed and stretched your sore limbs, trudging your way to the bathroom, passing by the mirror that hung on the wall.

Then you backtracked.

You tilted your head in confusion, fingers tracing the clear skin of your face and arms. You were unable to recall if you wiped your smudged makeup off last night, let alone cleaned yourself, but beside your mirror was a garbage can filled with used wipes, so you shrugged it off and assumed you did.

Guess Jane must’ve taken care of me, you thought.

You went through your morning routine and got ready for school, making your way down the stairs with a heavy backpack and an even heavier heart, your stomach vibrating in a dull pain in anxiety. The sound of sizzling made its way into your ears the same time you caught a whiff of eggs. You paused for a moment, wondering if you should sneak out the back door.

You hadn’t expected Jane to be awake this early. Usually, she was dead asleep - she wasn’t much of a morning person - so her being awake alarmed you.

Regardless, you walked into the kitchen and flopped down on one of the stools, placing the backpack on the ground beside you, careful not to startle Jane, who stood with her back to you flipping an omelette.

Quietly, you cleared your throat and sat up straighter, “Mornin’ Jane.”

Her shoulders reached her ears in surprise, pan staying in the air for a couple of seconds, "Oh. Um, good morning.” She said with a strained voice, transferring the omelette onto a plate and sliding it over to you with sympathy painted on her face.

“What’s up?” You slowly asked, pulling the plate towards you suspiciously. The last time she made you breakfast was when you were twelve. From there on out, you told her you were old enough to make your own food, and though she stood by you to supervise, she let you do your thing.

“You only call me Jane when you’re upset.” She pointed out, lips rolling inwards.

“And you haven’t made me breakfast in years so,” you awkwardly laughed, picking at the appetizing omelette. You didn’t know what was wrong with you. You were hungry, but you couldn’t eat. The thought alone of doing so made you want to throw up.

“Do you want to talk about anything?” Jane asked, craning her head a little and watching your every move.

“Yeah, um,” you dropped the fork and scratched the back of your drooping head, “C-can you keep Peter’s secret? He doesn’t want anyone to know and-”

“Sure. Of course.” She nodded, agreeing quickly, "Is there anything else?”

“I…” you sighed and chewed on your bottom lip, “I don’t want to talk about it.”

False. You wanted nothing more than to talk about it. But you simply couldn’t burden Jane with your problems. She probably had enough on her hands as is.

She seemed disappointed in your answer, like she was waiting for a specific one, but gave you a small smile anyway, “Okay, well, you know I’m always here."

“Yeah,” you blankly stared at the plate in front of you, “I know.”

----------------------------------------------------------------------

“Y/n!” You heard someone shout from across the hall, and had to fight the urge to run away and pretend like you didn’t hear anything. You felt incredibly drained today, and had no energy to deal with anyone, even Flash.

You groaned inwardly and turned, waiting for Flash to jog up to you with a grin. You wanted to get out of school during lunch, just for a while, but it seemed like you couldn’t leave at all.

“Where were you? Crisco Kid said your phone’s with him but he wouldn’t give it to me.” He pointed his thumb in the direction he just ran in from.

“Crisco Kid? You mean Ned?”

“Yeah, haha, get it? ‘Cause he’s fat?” He nudged your rib, giving you a playful wink, but you were in no mood for games.

“That’s not funny, Flash. Don’t make fun of appearances.” You said, already walking away from him. You felt like you were being suffocated everywhere you went, with no escape whatsoever, whether it’d be catching Peter’s eye from across the room or having someone question you about Spider-Man like you knew him personally. Which, you did, but they didn’t need to know that.

Ned had passed you a note in the middle of class saying “meet me at 2:45 sharp in the decathlon practice room to get your phone.” You furrowed your eyebrows and looked up, but he was already immersed in what the teacher was saying. You were too tired to argue with him, so you shrugged it off and planned to do what he said, no matter how suspicious it was.

Flash easily caught up to you and stood in front of you with his hands on your shoulders, concern lacing his voice, “What’s gotten into you, Y/n/n? You don’t…look okay.”

No matter how much makeup you'd put on, your bloodshot eyes and bags that were being held beneath the layers of foundation and concealer shone through like a bright light, a reminder of the shit that happened yesterday.

All it took was Flash’s question for him to break through. A switch had flipped in your mind, and you were suddenly feeling overwhelmed with emotions.

“It’s just…he came- he asked- I don’t know what to do a-and-“ you were having a hard time constructing your thoughts into a sentence, words spewing left and right, already feeling the buildup of tears.

“Okay, okay,” Flash quieted you down, “let’s talk about it.” He grabbed put his arm around your shoulder and guided you towards the cafeteria, warding off anyone who tried to come near the both of you with a glare while you wiped your stray tears.

Tags: @peachescream06, @hayhays

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[marvelobsessedteenager]

All The Hurt - Chapter 5

Pairing: Peter Parker x fem!reader

Warnings: ANGST, Peter was an ass, reader is a hurt and petty bitch, fluff to make up for the angst, curse words, lots of “coincidences”

Word count: 2.5k

A/N: had to make this one short because the next one is hella long

------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Phew, all right,” you wheezed through fast pants as you finally reached the computer room, hand numb and aching from the dripping ice pack in your palm, “you need to explain to me what’s happening. Because- man, I’m out of shape.” You placed your hands on your hips and bent slightly for a moment, taking a huge gulp of air before marching over to Ned and giving him the pack, “I’m confused as fuck, Ned.”

One of his hands continued its work while the other reached out to grab the pack. His fingers continued to type away with speed you’d never seen before as he spoke, eyes never leaving the screen, "Okay, long story short, the day you were at the bodega-” you flinched, “-was the same day that bank was robbed using high tech weapons. Those weapons were part human and part alien, and were being created by a dude who has wings on his back. Peter found out that that guy is Liz’s dad, and now Peter’s going after him to stop him from selling even more weapons.”

He hissed as he placed the ice on his eye. You blinked, nodding once as you felt entranced by the layered codes on Ned’s screen. It was weird how you understood it and read them like they were normal words and letters. You mentally thanked your summer coding camp for the extra knowledge. "I..feel like there’s a lot more to the story than that but yeah, okay, I got it.”

A buzzing from your purse interrupted your entrancement. You shook your head and opened your purse, pulling out your vibrating phone.

Incoming call from..Flash.

You furrowed your eyebrows and rolled your eyes, taking a seat across from Ned and starting up your own computer, "Now’s really not a good time, E.”

"It’s not Flash, it’s Peter!” Peter practically screamed, making you wince from his panic-stricken voice and loud background noise that was filled with New York’s most obnoxious honks.

"Wha- did you steal Flash’s phone?” You asked incredulously, putting him on speaker while you typed away, hearing the same swift clicking coming from Ned’s side.

“No! I asked him for it!” He paused for a moment, “And his car!”

“What?!”

“You stole Flash’s car?” Ned asked, jaw-dropping and eye-widening in amazement, “Cool!”

“Yeah, it’s awesome, it’s awesome!”

"Peter! You’ve never driven before! How can you be driving?!” You scolded, suddenly feeling a twist in your gut at the thought of an accident due to his lack of experience in driving. Peter was never one to make impulsive decisions as dangerous as this. You guessed he changed over the months that passed.

"I know, this is a really big step for me and- ahhhhh! Get out of the way! Get out of the way!” Your hands froze in their place as you awaited a crash with a thundering heart, but it never came, which made you sigh in relief. The engine’s sound increased in volume as the car accelerated, but Peter’s voice was still louder, "I can’t see anything in this car!"

"Which car did you..borrow?” You asked, fingers returning back to work. You figured if you could help him, he’d get out of the vehicle at a much faster rate, and all you wanted to do was keep him safe and unharmed.

"How many does he own?” Peter asked in awe, honking the horn multiple times and screaming a couple of‘ move’s!

"Not important right now! What’s the logo of the car?"

"The four Olympic circle thingies."

"An Audi.” You said under your breath. Thank God, you thought, a car I'm familiar with, “Do you know how to turn the headlights on?

"No!"

"There’s a knob on the left of the steering wheel. Turn it clockwise.”

Peter repeated your instructions, and released a small laugh of victory, ”How’s Ned doing with Happy?”

“Uh,” You peeked over your screen, noticing beads of sweat form on Ned's forehead, even with the cool ice helping his eye, “Ned?”

"Getting to him..” He said, not paying you any attention.

"Have you found my phone yet?” Peter asked.

"Working on it, sit tight,” you replied, finally seeing a moving blue dot pop up on your screen, "He’s on Jackson Avenue and 48th Street."

“Perfect! And Happy?”

You once again awaited Ned’s answer, and worried when a distressed look flashed upon his face, “He hung up on me.” He frowned, "I’ll try again.”

You looked back down at your screen and realized that the blue dot had suddenly stopped moving. You squinted, “Hey, he stopped at 10th street and 43rd avenue in Brooklyn.”

"What? That makes no sense!"

"Welcome to my world,” you mumbled, hearing a small chuckle come from Ned before he focused on talking to Happy again.

“He said he was going out of town!” Peter explained, obviously having heard you, but it did nothing to diffuse your confusion. Why would Liz’s dad stop in Brooklyn when he said he was leaving?

"Weird..” You commented, rubbing your eyebrow as you started to feel the pressure. Jesus Christ, is this what Peter goes through?

“Dammit,” Ned muttered, catching your attention, "Happy sounded like he was catching a flight,” he said, “he mentioned something about taking off in nine minutes."

"What?” You and Peter simultaneously said, and you fought the butterflies that made their way to your stomach. Now’s not the time.

"He was surrounded by a bunch of boxes,” Ned clarified.

“Boxes?” Peter wondered out loud, and you were sure you could see his face as he put two and two together, "It’s moving day! It’s moving day, it’s moving day, he’s gonna rob that plane, I gotta stop him! Shit, I don’t know how to get the directions on this car.”

You jumped at the chance to help again, pleased that Peter finally had a destination to get to, "I’ve got his location, I’ll lead you.” You pulled up Flash’s location from the Find My Friends app, eyes jumping back and forth between your phone and the computer’s screen as you voiced the directions to Peter.

Peter’s foot pressed harder on the gas pedal, causing too much skidding, and you had to try your best to hold your tongue as to not to be a backseat driver. You wondered if you were in the position to berate Peter for impulsively stealing Flash’s possessions and driving recklessly. You found it amusing that the crime fighting Spider-Man had committed two crimes as of tonight.

"Slow down, there’s a right turn up ahead. You’re gonna take it.” You directed, just as Peter’s dot passed his exit, "Parker! Turn right, turn right!”

Peter screamed as the engine roared and the car skidded so loud you were barely able to hear his web shoot out. Your eyes widened in fear as you heard metal grinding against the concrete before coming to a halt with a harsh thump. Peter’s hasty breathing seemed match yours.

"Are you okay?!” You and Ned asked, your voice cracking and brain melting.

"I’m okay.” He breathed, making you drop your head in relief, shoulders easing up, "Just keep trying to get through to Happy.”

"It’s been an honor, Spider-Man.” Ned saluted, and you gave him a look of disapproval.

But then you both turned your heads at the piercing sound of high heels clicking in the hallways that were getting louder as the person headed in your direction. Ned’s face became as white as a sheet, surely matching yours.

'What do we do?' He mouthed, eyes rapidly bouncing back and forth between the door and you.

You bit your lip and glanced at the door before sighing and getting on your feet, “I’ll distract her,” You whispered, removing all traces from the computer, “keep calling Happy.”

Ned nodded in affirmation as you straightened out your dress and took a deep breath, cautiously opening the computer room’s door and stepping outside. Ms.Warren was peeping into the science lab across the computer room, and you took this as your chance to make it look like you were just making your way in.

She turned around and jumped, “Jesus!” She placed a hand on her chest, “What are you doing-“

She stepped closer and squinted at your figure in the dark, “Y/n,” she seethed.

She said your name with poison dancing on her tongue, causing a deep frown to settle between her eyebrows as she popped her hip and crossed her arms, "What are you doing here? There’s a dance, and you know it’s prohibited to be in this area.”

“I know, Ms.Warren,” you surpassed the urge to literally bite this woman’s head off and pretended to be vulnerable for a moment. You looked down at your feet, trying to conjure up an excuse that was easy to believe - Ms.Warren wasn’t exactly gullible, and wasn’t fond of you, either. Your reputation for causing trouble in her class cost you her trust, but you frankly couldn’t give a fuck. Plus, it was fun to mess around with her, what’s one more time?

“I just..” Your mind went blank as her eyes searched yours, a small glint of mischief shining in them. Oh, you bet she fantasized about the day she’d get you expelled from Midtown, but you weren’t ever going to let her see that day. So, you did what you always did when you got into trouble.

Play the absent parents' card.

“I just..I just w-wanted to call my dad. It’s quiet in here.” You said, faking your wobbly voice. No teacher liked it when they had to deal with crying students, especially those who hid the fact that they had no role models around them, like yourself. A look of confusion flashed in her eyes.

You were getting somewhere.

“It’s just..h-he’s been gone for so long, Ms. Warren, and I never see him. He called me tonight, and he never has before.” You fiddled with the ends of your hair, “What if he tells me he’s here? Here to see me? While I’m partying down t-there?” You sniffed for extra effect, somehow feeling your eyes swell with tears.

Weird.

You took a deep breath and looked at the ceiling to make it look like you were trying to hold yourself from falling apart, “I-I just wanted to call him,” you repeated, thickening your voice even more, “maybe he’ll apologize for never being there for me, especially after m-mom left us when I was ten.” You were almost impressed with yourself as you felt hot tears run down your face, traced with the mascara you applied before coming here.

In Ms.Warren’s shadow, you could tell her eyebrows were furrowed, and she was looking anywhere but you, clearly trying to choose between two options.

“I’ve never had a parent in my life.” You pushed, "No one taught me how to ride a bike, or swim, a-and I feel so left out because all the other kids have parents and I don’t!”

You grabbed onto her arms, looking her dead in the eye, “Please, please, just let me piece my life back together. Let me call him.”

For a moment, you swore you saw her demeanor soften. Just a moment where you felt like she understood you, not pitied you. But, just as quick as it came, it disappeared when she cleared her throat and looked around.

“Okay, okay.” She sighed, "But make it quick,” she stepped back from your grasp, ready to bolt, but you took the chance to make her slightly more uneasy.

What?

This was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, of course you were going to take it.

“Oh, thank you, thank you!” You sprung into her, arms folding around her tightly as she stiffened, clearly feeling uncomfortable about the affection you were displaying. You breathed in through your nose, hard, and nearly laughed when you felt her hands on your shoulders, trying to peel you off of her with a face of disgust.

“Don’t mention it, s-sweetie.” She said, discreetly rubbing her hands on her dress, "You better go now before your dad gets busy again.”

“You're right, you’re right."

And for your final act, you pretended to sniff and wipe your nose with your arm, catching Ms. Warrner’s eye twitch. She was known for being a massive germaphobe, which really only came in handy during her class - until now.

She cleared her throat once again, turned around, and marched down the hallway, practically running away from you until she was gone. You placed a hand over your mouth, muffling your giggles as you entered the computer room once again, slowly closing the door behind you.

“She’s gone?” Ned swiveled in his chair to face you, cracking a smile when you happily nodded and wiped at your face.

“How about you? What’d Happy say?” You walked over to him, running your eyes over the lengthy call history, which was mainly filled with declined calls from your side.

“Um,” Ned rubbed his arm in shame, “he cursed. A lot. And he..he blocked me,”

Your face dropped, hearing Ned sigh and imitating him.

“What do we do now?” Ned asked, desperate as ever.

You waited for a moment, feeling a lightbulb go off in your head as you rushed to the other side and opened your phone.

“Give me his number,” You said, dialing the number Ned voiced to you and putting him on speaker. You crossed your fingers and waited for him to pick up, each ring only causing you more anxiety.

“Yeah?” Happy said, sounding quite annoyed.

“Well, damn, you don’t sound like a Happy to me. You sound like a grumpy.” You rolled your eyes, immediately regretting what you said.

“Not this shit again,” He said angrily, and you were pretty sure he was going to hang up, making you panic all over again.

“Someone’s going to steal Mr. Stark’s shit!” You blurted, wincing when you heard nothing from the other line for a moment. You were going to check if he hung up on you when you heard a, “what?”

“T-the plane!” You exclaimed, "The plane with all of Tony’s stuff! There’s a guy who’s going to steal it and Parker’s going to stop him!”

“You know what? How about you tell Parker that he has some delusional, weird fr-“ His voice suddenly faded out, “Holy shit.” He breathed.

“What? What happened?”

"The plane just crashed.”

Your heart dropped to the feet as the color drained from your face, feeling the blood rushing through your ears and fear spiking in your chest. Somehow, somehow, you knew Peter was where the crash was, and you feared the worst possible outcome. You didn’t even hang up as you rounded the table, picked up your keys, and ran out the door.

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tags: @peachescream06

[marvelobsessedteenager]

All The Hurt - Chapter 4

Pairing: Peter Parker x fem!reader

Warnings: ANGST, Peter was an ass, reader is a hurt and petty bitch, fluff to make up for the angst, curse words, lots of “coincidences”, horrible description of death and feelings lmfao I’m sorry

Word count: 3.4k

A/n: sorry about the late update! it’s my 18th birthday and it’s 11 pm and i just got home HAHAHA. 

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

You were barreling towards death with your eyes closed as your body hit the elevator’s ground, deafening screams emitting from your mouth as you thought, this is it. This is where I die.

Multiple callings of your names sounded through the empty shaft, and you were sure Spider-Man was one of them.

The elevator was hit by a stray metal pole on the right side, but it wasn’t enough to stop it, only enough to cause a dent on the inside. It was like a rollercoaster - slow as it reached the top, but fast and gaining speed as it dropped.

Only, rollercoasters were fun and safe, and didn’t make you feel like The Grim Reaper was welcoming you with open arms like a friend he hadn’t seen in a long time.

I’m sorry, you found yourself thinking, over and over again. You weren’t sure what you were apologizing for, or to whom, but your life flashed before your eyes like they do in the movies, and only then did you realize that you regretted most of it.

You regretted not begging your mom to stay.

You regretted not asking your dad to be home more often - for you to see him at least more than once a year.

You regretted not going after Peter, you regretted not telling him how you felt, you regretted bullying him. Two wrongs never made a right, and you should’ve known that sooner, but you let your anger blind you.

You weren’t a bully. That simply wasn’t you.

But that was how you were going to die.

You were going to die with everyone believing that you showed your true colors this year, and were proud of it.

I’m sorry.

But it all happened so quickly.

“Gotcha!” Someone said as a figure wrapped itself around your body - warm but stiff and solid. The floor beneath you was long gone, and you wondered if you died, still unwilling to open your eyes to check if you did.

It was proven that you didn’t need to, though.

You heard Peter. Peter and his reassurances: “You’re okay, you’re okay.” He was breathing hard against you, the fabric of his mask straining his voice, but it was still as clear as daylight. The loud crash of the elevator below you echoed through the emptiness, which caused your breath to hitch in fear.

"I got you, Y/n. I won’t let anything hurt you, I promise.” He whispered in between pants, hugging you close to his body while you clung to him for dear life, your legs automatically wrapping around his waist and arms around his neck, like they had just found their other half and didn’t want to let go.

You were sure you were squeezing the life out of him, but he didn’t complain. He never did.

You couldn’t tell if it was your heart that was beating like a thumping drum or if it was his.

And you lost it, right then and there.

You let harsh sobs wreck through you like a tidal wave. The kind where you felt like your world was falling apart, your fingers tingling and your shoulders feeling heavy, like boulders were trying to weigh you down as the air around you stilled.

“It’s okay. You’re okay.” He repeated, tightening his arm around your body as salt water made its way down your cheeks and onto your tongue.

“I’m sorry,” you wept, voice thick with remorse and head heavy as you dug it into his neck, “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he shook his head, “don’t be, you’re okay. We’re okay.”

You knew that he was talking about being alive, but you couldn’t help but look for a double meaning - the other one where he was talking about the destroyed relationship between the two of you.

Still, you kept crying, releasing built-up sadness that you never allowed yourself to release. It felt liberating, to be frank, and if you hadn’t been right on the edge of death for the second time, you’d be embarrassed by the amount of tears you shed.

But you let yourself shed them anyway. Deep down, you knew Peter was the one that left you, but what you were doing, bullying him, wasn’t right, either. This time, you chose to be the bigger person.

Once you calmed down, save for your hiccups, Spider-Man spoke, “Hey,” he gently coaxed you out of your hazy mind, almost as if his words could break you. You knew from experience that they could.

You sheepishly lifted your head and bore your red eyes into his, aware of the fact that you looked like a train wreck. You were sure your head looked like a bird’s nest with your face as red as a tomato, and it mustn’t have been a pretty sight that Spider-Man was getting a close up of.

Your faces were merely inches apart, and it was too easy to imagine his uncovered face this close to you. You felt his thumb rubbing comforting circles on your waist where his arm remained.

“I’m gonna need you to trust me, all right?” He softly asked, “I’m gonna need to jump, but I promise I won’t let go. Okay?”

As soon as he said the word ‘jump’ your brain began spiraling again. You looked above you at the height that he would allegedly leap through, tracing the length of the web that he was holding onto, and then looked down to see how far down you’d fall if you had.

Your breath hitched in your throat, eyes widening and arms subconsciously tightening around him in fear of slipping down, down, down. It seemed to go on forever, like a bottomless pit, but you knew what awaited you at the end of it.

“Don’t look down, don’t look down.”

You glanced back up at him, petrified.

“Just keep your head on my shoulder and close your eyes.”

And eventually, you did, taking deep breathes and allowing yourself to reminisce a time where you’d do exactly what you were doing. You’d hang onto him like you were now, and he’d allow you to, knowing a hug was always what you needed to calm down.

He was your anchor, keeping your ship from sailing away into dark and stormy oceans.

A gush of wind later and your feet were safely planted on stable ground, and he was long gone before you had the chance to say anything.

No opportune time came. It never felt like the right moment, and you thought that it wouldn’t ever come.

Sally had asked that you stay after school to do your hefty science project, and you agreed since you had nothing better to do. And that’s when you saw him most of the time.

Two weeks after the Washington DC. save, you started paying even more attention to him. You noticed him participating in Spanish class more, you saw him stay after school for detention due to him skipping out on Decathlon, and you noticed he didn’t dash out of school when detention was over.

Sure, you felt like a creep just watching him from afar, but you knew something was up. He seemed less enthusiastic, and you were pretty sure it had to do with the fact that Spider-Man sightings dropped to zero, as New York questioned his whereabouts in newspapers you saw in bodegas.

Your guess was that after the ferry incident, Tony Stark took his suit away. Peter was a genius, through and through, but you knew he didn’t have the items necessary to build his suit, and so you guessed Tony made it for him, and had the ability to take it away whenever he pleased. You weren’t sure what the reason was, but you hoped it was a good one.

Even after seeing him multiple times throughout the day, you’d always rush to the bathroom to rehearse your speech in the mirror and hype yourself up, only to chicken out last minute. You wondered if you should text him or call him, asking to meet up, but you always shook your head and thought, “better not.”

Your brain was constantly seeking out chances and imagining different outcomes, and that resulted in your nerves skyrocketing and mind blanking at inappropriate times.

Like right now.

“Y/n!” Flash’s loud voice snapped you out of your thoughts, “Did you hear a word I just said?”

“Um,” You sheepishly rubbed your arm and bit your lip, avoiding Flash’s questioning eyes.

“Penis Parker is right there! Come on, this is a great opportunity.” He nodded towards Peter who was sitting at the waiting office, tediously toying with the strings of his hoodie. Flash believed you were still in shock, and his way of bringing you back to life was finding opportunities to bully Peter. You used to love it. But now, now you couldn’t bear to do it. Not that he knew that.

Before you could object, Flash strutted his way over to him and leaned on the doorframe, “Yo, Penis Parker.”

Peter closed his eyes and deeply sighed, looking up, “What do you want, Flash?”

“You know, Spider-Man never mentioned anything about knowing you,” He taunted, getting straight to the point, “I mean, he would’ve had he not stood you up at that party. Probably isn’t your first time getting stood up, though, huh?”

He chortled, “I’d bet my life that you probably don’t even have a date to Homecoming. I don’t know who to feel worse for. You, for 100% getting rejected or the girl being asked by you, right, Y/n?”

He twisted his head to see your blank face, your body stiffening as your vision moved to Peter, who was watching you with an almost pained expression, as it brought back memories of the weeks before. The weeks that felt like they happened years ago.

You knew Peter was waiting for another insult to hit him, but you found yourself unable to speak as your eyes were glued to his, feeling your stomach closing in on itself.

You couldn’t do it anymore. You knew it wasn’t right, and you knew that it was time to stop, especially after everything Peter had done for you. After all the times he saved you.

You cleared your throat and focused on anything but Peter, “That’s enough, Flash.”

Flash’s posture slacked and he furrowed his eyebrows, “What?”

“That’s enough.”

“But-“

“Eugene.” You cut him off, looking him dead in the eye and delivering a message that meant you were serious. You jutted your head in your direction and walked away, missing the way Flash and Peter stared at your retreating back incredulously.

With Homecoming approaching fast, you agreed to go with Zach, one of Flash’s friends and the boy who wouldn’t stop bugging you about going with him. You knew he just wanted to use you to tell others he ‘scored’ but you couldn’t care less. Truthfully, you were only going to confess to Peter that you knew his secret. Homecoming, you thought, would be a perfect time considering you planned to be each other’s dates to the event when you were younger.

Guess you didn’t know that time not only brings people together, but separates them, too.

You drove yourself to Homecoming and parked your car as close to the school as possible in case things went wrong and you needed the escape. You took a minute to touch up your hair and makeup, which really wasn’t much more than your normal everyday look, and inhaled deeply before getting out and walking into what you were sure was going to be a disaster, purse hanging by your side.

You met up with your group of friends, rolling your eyes as Zach hugged you (too tightly), that were drinking punch in their most stylish dresses and tuxes and dancing to upbeat music. Liz and her team definitely did a good job setting up the decorations and disco ball, successfully transforming the boring gym into a chic dance floor.

Flash had informed you beforehand that he’d be taking ’this chick’ to a lavish restaurant before coming to the dance and asked if you wanted to tag along, but you refused to be a third-wheel, telling him you’ll instead meet him at school instead.

Homecoming meant close to nothing to you if you weren’t with the person you’d been waiting for your whole life, which is why you spent the first fifteen minutes eyeing the crowd for a certain boy. The sooner you told him, the less you’d feel like you were going to throw up the contents of your stomach.

And finally, you saw him entering the building looking pale, like he’d seen a ghost. You worried, your gut telling you something was seriously wrong as you watched him walk to Liz, appearing to be distressed, and perhaps..guilty.

Everything only worsened when Liz’s face dropped and-

He was running. Running away from Liz. Which clearly didn’t make any sense, but goddamnit nothing is making sense these days!

You contemplated going after him, not understanding what the fuck was going on. Why was he running? Does this have something to do with Spider-Man? Should you run after him?

Something was pulling you towards the double doors he sprinted through, like it was calling your name and luring you in. You didn’t know if you should answer its callings or ignore them.

He could be in danger.

But he also could’ve just panicked.

It was obvious Liz was his date, and maybe he ran to the bathroom to freshen up and give himself a pep talk. Usually, you were the one to do that, but you lost your place as his personal hype girl long ago.

But then, why is Liz crying?

No, no, this isn’t something Homecoming related. This is Spider-Man related.

You excused yourself from your group and made it look like you were heading to the bathroom, but once everybody was out of sight, you threw your heels to the side of the hallway and raced around the halls, wondering where he would be.

You were short of breath as you took a minute to stop and place your hands on your knees. You ran through almost every hall you could, and you were running short on routes to take.

While stretching your neck, you saw something on the ground in your peripheral vision. A strewn tie.

You went over and picked it up, confirming that it was indeed the tie Peter was wearing. Up ahead were a whole bunch of stray items of clothing scattered around, and you followed those, picking them up along the way and tossing them in a big pile beside the lockers.

You hoped to God he wasn’t naked like you thought he was.

The clothes stopped when you reached the back of the school, where the buses were usually parked. You quietly opened the door and let your bare feet touch the cold asphalt below them. You heard talking, a man’s voice, and the same purring sound you heard when you found the glowy-machine thing, only louder.

You hastily followed the noises, hiding behind one of the large buses, placing a hand on your mouth to keep your gasp inside at the shock of the scene laid out in front of you. There Peter was, on the ground beside an upside down bus, attempting to escape from the man that was advancing towards him with another strange machine.

“Why did he send you here?” Peter grunted, using his elbows to crawl away. You panicked and looked around for something, anything, you could use to fucking stop the guy from killing Peter. Your eyes lit up when you recognized one of Peter’s web shooters thrown to the side, sauntering over to it and turning it in your hands, trying to get it to work.

“Come on, come on.” You muttered, hitting it multiple times while aiming at the guy to get it to shoot, but you didn’t know how it worked, and nothing that you were doing seemed to be doing anything.

“Guess you’ll never know.” Said the dude, pulling back and getting ready to shoot at Peter.

“No, no, no, come on! Shoot your gross webs!” You desperately mumbled under your breath, hitting it harder and faster. Your palm ended up smacking a button, making a large web come out and cling to the machine. You were frozen in spot as the guy’s eyes met yours, pure anger swirling in them.

“Yes!” Peter said before turning to look at you. His shoulders stiffened, but he shook his head and pulled on the web, taking both the bad guy and the web shooter down with him.

Now that both of the webshooters were in his hold, he used them to web up the villain to the bus.

You didn’t realize you were holding your breath until a voice came out from behind you, “Holy shit!”

You jumped in surprise, pivoting and raising your fist to punch the stranger behind you. Your jaw fell open the second your hand collided with Ned’s face, guilt rendering you motionless.

“Oh my God! Oh my God, Ned!” You gasped, hesitantly putting a hand on his back, feeling absolutely horrible as he held his eye, moaning in pain, “I’m so sorry! I-I thought you were one of them so I just- are you okay? Holy fuck, I’m so, so sorry!”

“Damn, Y/n.” He weakly laughed, “Who knew you could punch that hard?”

You bit your lip in worry, “I’m so sorry, Ned. I didn’t mean it, I swear.” You said, trying to get a look at how bad it was.

“It’s good, I’m fine. Well, maybe I’m gonna need some ice but I’m cool, it’s all good.” He gave you a thumbs up before hissing and opening his eye.

It looked swollen and was starting to turn into a nasty shade of blue, but he kept reassuring you it was okay, which didn’t make you feel any better.

“I’ll get you ice, I promise.” You said, rubbing his back gently with a pained expression.

The clearing of a throat behind you called to you and Ned’s attention, an awkward silence setting between the three of you until Ned's eyes widened as much as they could.

“Oh! I-it’s Spider-Man!” Ned said, unconvincingly trying to sound surprised, “W-what a coincidence that you’re here, Spidey! I-I’m such a huge fan! And I’m sure Y/n is, too.”

You closed your eyes and pinched the bridge of your nose, letting out a deep breath, “Why do you do this to me?” You mumbled into the sky.

“What are you doing?” You asked Ned.

“What do you mean? It’s Spider-Man. Isn’t it shocking that he’s here?”

You heard a long, disappointed sigh coming from Peter, who stood far away from both you and Ned. Too far, in your opinion.

“Ned, I know who he is.” You admitted, somehow hearing Peter’s breath getting caught in his throat.

“I..I don’t know what you’re talking about-“

“Dude! I know it’s Peter, cut the bullshit. You’re horrible at lying.” You turned to look at Peter, giving him a sad smile, “And you’re still not good at hiding things from me.”

Peter’s shoulders visibly sagged, his hand coming up to rub the back of his head, something he did when he was uncomfortable. He must’ve seen you dissect his action because he immediately put his arm down.

“Okay,” Ned sighed, “well, what now?”

“Look, I don’t wanna cause any trouble.” You cautiously said, “I’m just..I can help if you want me to. With that.” You pointed towards the webbed dude, offering your services to Peter. You swallowed down the feeling of you doing this to make yourself feel better about the way you treated him. Almost like you were trying to reverse what you’ve done.

Regardless, Peter stared at the villain for a long time, and then abruptly spoke.

“All right, here’s what I want you both to do.” He finally said, hastily moving closer, “The guy with the wings is Liz’s dad-“ Ned gasped, “-I know! I gotta tell Mr. Stark. Ned, I need you to call Happy Hogan, he’s Mr. Stark’s head of security. Y/n, I need you to track my phone for me, okay?”

You nodded, and even though you were confused as shit, you were happy to help in any way possible.

Ned quickly took off, holding his white hat to his head as he ran back into school with an obvious pep in his step. Peter was getting ready to swing away, but you weren’t going to let your chance leave with him. You readied yourself, the speech in your head tumbling around in your mind, ready to exit your mouth.

Ready to get some closure, and to finally be the bigger person.

“Peter?” You said, your voice coming out as a whisper, but the wind seemed to have carried it over to him because he stopped and hesitantly turned around.

You had to remind yourself how to breathe as you looked at him. He was so close, yet so far away, and just like that, your mind went blank, the words erasing themselves and leaving you with a tight throat. You gulped, your legs carrying you over to him before you chickened out even further.

You tentatively wrapped your arms around his rigid body, feeling the tears starting to cascade their way down your cheeks.

What for? You didn’t know, but you just let them fall anyway.

“Thank you.” You wobbly said, slightly afraid that he was going to push you away when he just stood there. It took a moment for him to give in and return the hug, pulling you closer. He nodded into your shoulder, and you knew he understood what you were thanking him for without having to say it.

You both worked like that.

You couldn’t comprehend how much lighter you felt after saying those words, how much had been lifted off your shoulders that you finally, finally did the right thing.

Finally, you did something you wouldn’t ever regret.

You gave him one last squeeze and pushed him back, keeping him at arm's length, fighting the urge of staying in his arms forever, "Be safe.” You sniffed, stepping back to give him space.

“I will.”

And with that, he swung away, leaving a promise behind that he’d be safe, and that he’d make it out okay.

You breathed out and straightened your posture, wiping the tears away with your hand and running into school to pay the nurse’s office a visit.

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Tags: @peachescream06

[marvelobsessedteenager]

I don’t understand. I’m intimidating.

[marvelobsessedteenager]

All The Hurt - Chapter 3

Pairing: Peter Parker x fem!reader

Warnings: ANGST, Peter was an ass, reader is a hurt and petty bitch, fluff to make up for the angst, curse words, lots of “coincidences”, horrible description of death and feelings lmfao I’m sorry

Word Count: 4.5k

A/N: dis a long one HAHAH

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You groggily twisted in your bed as you tried to find the nagging nuisance that interrupted your peaceful slumber that barely lasted five hours. Your vision slowly focused as you rubbed your eyes vigorously, still searching for that damned alarm clock that you couldn’t seem to find.

“For fuck’s sake,” you grumbled, turning on the lamp beside your bed and hissing at the sharp light that was out to attack your pupils. The alarm clock, which somehow made its way onto the floor, read 7:00 AM, September 14th.

You scratched the side of your head, wondering why on earth your past self decided to wake you up this early on a random day.

Until it clicked.

September 14th. The Academic Decathlon competition that was being held in D.C. - the one your team had been preparing for months on end.

With all the ruckus that’s happened in the past few months, the competition was filed under the “unimportant events” cabinet in your mind. Truthfully, you didn’t really want to go. The only reason you were in decathlon was because you and Peter had a competition going to see who could get into as many after-school activities as possible while keeping their grades up. Plus, he said your intelligence would be an asset to the team.

It was stupid, really, but you both found joy in watching the other succeed, and at the time, Peter thought it’d be a push for you considering you were demotivated to study.

After he left you, you quit everything else besides decathlon. When you tried to, they told you you weren’t allowed to due to your name already being written down as one of the team’s members. You slacked off and often avoided going to the after-school practice altogether, hence why you forgot about it.

However, right now, it wasn’t a burden you had to bear. You were grateful for the upcoming distraction, and you thanked God Peter was somehow able to spontaneously quit the team the other day, the 'Stark Internship' granting him access to do so. Luckily for you, that meant some form of escape without having to be around him.

You felt yourself become lighter already, and you quickly got ready for the fast-approaching competition.

Once found your team waiting by the bus, you were greeted by a disoriented-looking Flash, making you giggle as you approached him while giving everyone you passed by a smile. “You look like shit.” You commented when you reached him at the back of the lengthy bus.

“I feel like it,” he groaned, his forehead pressing into the side of the vehicle, “I’m so not a morning person.”

You rolled your eyes and handed him the iced coffee you bought for him on the way, “I know, that’s why I got you this.” You said, shaking the beverage and holding it out for him, "Drink up, Eugene. We got people to beat. And before you ask, yes it has almond milk in it.”

He lifted his head and looked at the coffee in surprise, then back at you, “You’re a lifesaver.” He said, engulfing you in a hug so suddenly you had to hold onto the side of the bus to keep you both from falling back.

You teasingly shook your head and patted him on the back, “I know, I know. I’m amazing.”

“I don’t disagree.” He said, pulling back and taking the coffee from your hands with a small ’thank you.'

You stared at him as he slurped on his drink and sighed in bliss, and wondered what it would be like if he treated everyone the way he treated you.

You knew of his past and understood why his actions came from a place of hurt and nothing more. During these past few months, Flash helped you open your eyes and made you more understanding of people. Especially those who tried to cover up their pain by pushing others away in self-preservation, in fear of showing others who they truly were because they were afraid of being hurt, taken advantage of, or even worse, mocked for it.

At the simple gesture of getting him coffee, he seemed shocked that you even remembered his order, let alone got him something. Your empathetic side was much stronger than you thought it’d be, you realized, your heart aching for the misunderstood boy who stood in front of you.

“What?” Flash inquired with furrowed eyebrows, capturing the metal straw once more (because plastic ain’t it).

You were about to make a joke about how you were staring at him to process how ugly he was when Abe gleefully yelled, “Hey, it’s Peter!” And pointed ahead of him.

You swore your heart stopped for a moment, the voice in your head repeating the word ‘no'.

Your eyes widened as you slowly turned around in astonishment to find that, yes, it really was Peter, in the flesh.

And he’s asking to rejoin the team, but you were still caught up in his presence.

And how much you hated it.

Of course he showed up. Last fucking minute.

Boiling anger shot up to your throat and escaped through your mouth with a growl, “No, no way,” you walked towards him, eyes burning with rage as he backed up, “You can’t just quit, make a grand last minute entrance and be welcomed back.”

Of course, he was welcomed back by all but you and Flash, but that didn’t make a difference to anyone else no matter how many times you whined and objected.

“One more smart team member couldn’t hurt,” Mr. Harrington said.

And that’s how he ended up taking his seat about two rows behind yours, as you and Flash took your designated spots in the front. All the memories of him being Spider-Man fogged up your brain like you couldn’t see anything but him in the suit. It was infuriating how just him being there seemed to fuck with you.

What really pushed you to the edge was that you caught him looking at you. And not just stealing glimpses, no, you mean full-on gawking.

The audacity, you thought, exhaling loudly through your nose.

You found it hard to answer Liz’s training questions correctly. How could you? You were consciously aware of his presence, and consciously aware that he could be hearing your thundering heart if he concentrated enough.

Okay, so you may have done a little bit of research about him and watched a couple of his one minute interviews with reporters. None of them explained how he got said powers, but in one he told the interviewer all his senses were far, far more advanced than normal humans.

You wondered if he ever got a sensory overload.

Your thoughts were interrupted by the ring of a bell and his answer that followed, his voice echoing in your head. When you answered incorrectly for the second time, you decided to give it a rest. You plugged in your earbuds, raised the volume as high as it would go, and wished you could tune out your thoughts like you did to the world.

You were already awake when you reached your destination. While the rest of the students were in awe of how big it was, you and Flash weren’t.

Once all rooms were assigned, Peter and Ned immediately dashed to theirs without waiting to hear Liz’s plans to "act rebellious as a group". Normally, that wouldn’t raise any suspicions, but now that you knew about Peter’s little secret, you were skeptical. They must be doing something related to Spider-Man.

You ignored the dull pain in your chest.

And as much as you wanted to find out, you were drained. Thinking had seemed to take up most of your energy, which was something you needed in order to win. So, you grabbed your spare key card to the room you shared with Sally Avril and searched the second floor for Room 249 together.

Sally and you weren’t exactly friends, but you talked a few times and said hello to each other via a nod when you passed each other in the hallways. She agreed to be your science partner for this quarter’s project, and you knew that she was incredibly bright for her age, so you didn’t mind rooming with her for a while.

When the both of you were out of breath and complaining about your backs aching from your heavy backpacks, you thankfully found your room.

And, what do you know? It was exactly across the fucking hall from Peter’s.

You annoyingly rolled your eyes and hastily swiped your card on the card reader, pushing the door with your foot and throwing your backpack onto the bed before flopping on it with a groan, your tiredness leaving you and allowing anger to fuel you instead.

“You okay?” Sally asked, always the sweetheart, shutting the door and placing her own backpack on the bed, taking her possessions out.

“Just peachy,” you sarcastically mumbled, your face squished between the pillows. You could only describe their scent as hotel rooms, but they were cool enough to help put out a little bit of the fire that you still had within you. You took a deep breath and pushed yourself up, leaning on your elbows, “I’m gonna go check the gym out.”

A while back, you learned how to manage your anger by using it to your advantage. The excess adrenaline helped pump your energy and allowed you to finish your workout faster, which in turn made you stronger and defused the storm within you. You took your gym clothes to the bathroom and changed before yelling out a goodbye to Sally and exiting your room.

As you shut the door behind you, you looked up in time to make eye contact with Peter, who stood behind his glass window and froze upon meeting your eyes. You scoffed and turned away, and he sighed and continued closing the curtains to his room, obstructing anyone from seeing him remove the tracker from his suit.

When the clock struck 10 pm, you heard a secret knock that meant Liz was here to take your asses to sneak into the pool as a group. You tiredly tied your robe around your body as Sally opened the door, squealing and giving Liz a hug. The group was buzzing with excitement, and you weren’t 100% sure of it, but you were certain this was the most rebellious thing they’ve ever done.

It was adorable how innocent they were.

While the students ran down the hall, you slowed your pace down to walk beside Flash, who waited for you at the end of the line they formed and handed you a snickers bar - your absolute favorite.

“Aw,” you cooed, finger tapping his nose, "Is this a thank you for the coffee this morning?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Flash scrunched his nose and flicked your hand away.

“What's up with you lately?” You asked, peeling away at the bar’s wrapper and taking a large bite, “You’ve been so touchy and caring. I mean, you’ve given me more hugs this week than you have in your entire life.”

Flash’s ears turned red as he pursed his lips and looked down at his bare feet, “I’m not being touchy.”

You stopped and turned to face him with a tilted head and cocked eyebrow. He sighed, “You almost died, Y/n,” he admitted with a small voice, tracing all your scars with his eyes, "I don’t know, I just...I don’t want to lose you, you know? It was scary.”

Your demeanor softened and you gave him a gentle smile. Flash wasn’t one to open up and express his feelings properly, but it warmed your heart that he tried to with you. You wrapped your arms around him once more, calmly rubbing his back, “I don’t wanna lose you, either.”

He snorted and pulled back, jabbing your side and making you squeal, “Yeah, who wouldn’t?”

You jokingly pushed at his shoulders, “I could give you a fucking list.”

The two of you laughed in the hallway as you looked up to see that you were almost at Peter’s door, where he stood there talking to Liz alone. Or, more accurately, both of them exchanging love eyes that made them fumble with their words and made a visible blush rise to their cheeks.

You rolled your eyes with disgust and gagged in revulsion while your heart clenched so hard you had to put a hand on your chest to make sure it was still beating.

And boy, was it beating, all right.

Flash was quick to notice your actions and tried to get them to separate, cupping his hands over his mouth, “Yo, loser,” he called out, making Peter turn, “Stay here. I’m sure Iron-Man is gonna need your help rescuing kittens that are stuck on trees.”

You let out a chuckle and grabbed Liz by her arm when you got close enough, “Come on, don’t waste your time with him. He’s got civil duties to get to.” You threw a deadly glance at him and dragged Liz with you to the pool, failing to notice Peter’s crest-fallen face.

Who cares about him, though? You were here to win a competition and get the trophy - maybe that’ll prove to your dad that you’re worth something, and if that fails, it’s still pretty cool to have accomplished something.

You ended up teaming up with Abe and successfully pushing Flash into the pool, high-fiving Abe before he canon-balled in himself. You giggled, watching your teammates gesture you to come in, but you shook your head and took a seat in one of the chairs.

“Oh, come on, Y/n. Just come in for a minute.”  

“I’m not a swimmer, Flash. I’ll be here, just not in there.”

Your body was aching from the lack of sleep and constant moving around. Plus, you really weren’t much of a swimmer. You quietly took a seat beside MJ as she read a book you once read as well, the chair making a screeching sound that made you cringe and alerted MJ of your presence.

“Can I help you with something?” She asked, flipping to the next page and reading on, but somehow she saw you throw a glance at her.

“Nah,” you crossed your arms and leaned back, watching as Liz got splashed with water by both Cindy and Abe, who then proceeded to dunk Flash’s head in the water and high-fived, “just recognized the book, s’all.”

She hummed and nodded, and you saw her peek up at you from the corner of your eye, “Good taste. I’d like you if you weren’t a bully.”

“Guess you’ll never like me, then.” You replied, monotony lacing your voice, immediately putting an end to the conversation that was only beginning to bloom. You knew she was going to transform it into another ‘what you’re doing isn’t right’ lecture, but you’ve heard enough of it from Jane.

A tense silence settled between you two as her words settled in your mind. A bully. That’s exactly what you were seen as. You guessed people don’t exactly see what caused the change in behavior, but they see the change itself.

You placed the back of your head against the concrete wall and stared up, looking through the built in glass that allowed the moon’s light to bleed into the pool, fully brightening it up until the shadow of a figure covered the view. Him.

Him clad in his latex suit with a backpack on, hands holding the mask that would hide his identity from the rest of the world.

You saw him staring at her.

You felt your heart fall to the pit of your stomach, where it seemed to only cause a burning sensation - jealousy. You were looking at him while he was too busy looking at someone else, and that seemed to have followed you your entire life, even when you weren’t friends.

You gulped and turned away before you ever saw his line of vision move over to you, wondering and wondering.

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The next morning, you stood in front of Flash’s room with your hands on his shoulders as you tried to calm him down.

“Holy shit. Holy shit, I can’t do this, Y/n,” He said, rubbing his forehead. His shoulders were rising and falling at a quick pace beneath your palms as he took shallow breaths, nerves practically spewing out of him.

Who knew Flash was a worry wort?

“Okay, Flash, listen to me,” you grabbed his face and tilted it towards you so you could look him in the eye, “This competition is just a competition. It doesn’t prove your worth to anyone.” That’s not what you thought of yesterday, "Your grades and results don’t determine how smart you are, all right? They’re just numbers and letters, and those don’t make up who you are. And besides,” you gestured to the group of people that were across the hall knocking on Peter and Ned’s door, “if you’re so worried, we’ve got a whole bunch of smart-asses who’ll make up for your stupidity.”

You gave him a teasing smile and relaxed when he shook his head with a chuckle.

“You’ve got this, Eugene.”

He took a deep breath and nodded his head in affirmation, “Yeah. Yeah, I’ve got this."

“Attaboy! That’s the spirit!” You said, punching him in the shoulder and laughing when he held his arm in pain.

The concoction from the other side of the hall seemed to have risen above your laughter, making you and Flash exchange a look before running over.

“What’s going on?” Flash asked, causing everyone to turn.

“The boys won’t come out, and if they don’t we’ll be late,” Liz answered, checking the watch on her wrist and tugging the ends of her ponytail stressfully.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” You mumbled, rolling your eyes and elbowing your way through the crowd until you reached the door.

“Ned! Parker! Get the fuck out of this room or so help me God I will fucking break the door down!” You yelled, repeatedly slamming your fist on the door as it shook from the force.

To your surprise, the door immediately swung back to reveal a sweaty Ned and a missing Peter. Before he was going to say something, you asked, “Where is he?”

Ned stood there like a gaping fish, opening and closing his mouth with broken words falling out, “He..uh, he..won’t be able to make it?”

“He left?”

Ned took a shaky breath in and toyed with the hem of his shirt, “M-maybe..”

Typical Peter. Running away when he was needed.

“Of course he did,” you pinched the bridge of your nose then turned to Liz, “we’re just gonna have to leave without him.” You shrugged, watching as Liz’s shoulders deflated.

She looked mad, worried, and at the same time disappointed. You guessed it had something to do with whatever they were talking about yesterday.

You also guessed he left due to something that had to do with Spider-Man, but you didn’t have enough evidence to prove it to yourself. Regardless of how you wanted to feel, you started getting rather distressed. You wondered if he left after seeing you guys in the pool, where he was, if he was all right, why he hasn’t come back - all questions that could be answered by Ned, you realized. But you didn’t want to risk it.

So, you made your way to the competition with murmuring nerves and trembling hands. You blamed it on the competition, but you knew deep down that it was Peter’s absence that was troubling you.

Either way, you thanked God for MJ’s intelligence that won you the competition.

Hugs were being exchanged all around and pride flowed between your teammates as a golden trophy was handed to your team.

To celebrate, you made your way to the Washington Monument, where you’d be given a boring tour and promised an 'unforgettable view.’ However, there was a tugging feeling in your stomach as Flash asked Mr. Harrington if he could tell Peter that he was expelled. He still hasn’t shown up. Your mind raced with possibilities, and only got worse as the monument's elevator ascended.

Until it abruptly stopped and aggressively shook in its place, causing panic to spread among your group as dust fell upon everyone from the hole that seemed to have appeared above you, covering you from head to toe. Smoke began to fill the elevator’s confined space and-

And this was starting to feel like Delmar’s all over again.

You were frightened, hands shaking and tears welling up in your eyes as oxygen barely made its way into your lungs only to come out again. Your eyes were glued to the hole in the elevator’s roof, as if it’d somehow close up again if you stared at it long enough. It felt as if you were looking at the inside of one’s body - it was a sight you were never meant to see, and now, here you were, seeing it. You saw the wires and pulleys that kept the elevator in its place, and you couldn’t describe how wrong it was.

“Okay, guys, I know that was scary but our safety systems are working. We’re very safe in here.” The lady assured in the most tedious way possible. It was like you weren’t about to meet death himself. Like everything was okay.

It wasn’t.

“No, lady! No, we’re clearly not!” You yelled as you collapsed to the floor, clutching your head and rocking back and forth.

“Okay, Y/n, breathe, breathe.” Mr. Harrington crouched down to your level, inhaling and exhaling slowly as if that’d help you. You could hardly focus on anything but the fact that you felt like you were going to die.

Death seemed to chase you wherever you went, like you were cursed, and now these people were going to go down with you, with no superhero to come swooping in because you didn’t know where he was.

Oh my God, why is this happening?

Flash hastily looked around and pointed to a small opening on the side of the elevator, “We can open that! We can open that and get out through there!” He said, and the others got to work right away.

Ned carried the lady on his shoulders as she successfully pushed it open, allowing new air to come through, the group taking a large, collective inhale. Flash kneeled down beside you, and rubbed your back, promising you everything will be okay, which calmed you down enough to stand up.

You were still scared, hands were still shaking, but you knew you had to put others before you. So you concealed them from everyone’s view, and helped your teammates safely climb out to where a group of security guys was waiting to pull them out.

Cindy went up first, then Abe, Sally, and the dude with glasses you could never remember the name of, until you, Flash, Mr. Harrington, Liz, and Ned remained.

They all suggested you go first, but you refused and told them you’d be fine with assisting them. Flash was up next.

The minute he jumped off the elevator’s surface to grab ahold of the security guard’s hand, the wires which held the elevator in its place snapped and you began your fast descend, screaming into oblivion as your heart rattled inside your ribcage.

A strong force stopped the elevator from falling further for a second before it started falling again, not giving you enough time to catch your breath. It hit a large metal ground, hard, and that seemed to stop it and made you fall on your knees and bust the rest of the glass.

You breathed harshly, thinking it was over, basking in sweet relief until Spider-Man fell from the hole into the elevator and pushed it down even further, prompting the elevator to plunge at an even faster rate, and both Liz and Ned to let out an ear-deafening scream that made its way to your stomach, twisting and turning it while your knuckles turned white from the death grip you had on the railing.

There's your second chance at death, because apparently, one time wasn’t enough.

With his quick thinking, though, Spider-Man raised his arm and shot his web to the ceiling of the building, holding on as he planted his legs on the corner of the elevator, and pulling as it hung in the air.

He looked around the elevator, pausing for a second on your curled up body, before clearing his throat, “Hey, how you doin’?” He said, thickening his New York accent, “don’t worry about it, I got you.”

Ned - like he wasn’t about to fucking die - began fangirling over his best friend as he yelled out multiple 'yes's and bounced up and down, making the elevator’s wheels creak, threatening to fall once again.

"Hey, hey, hey, big guy! Quit movin’ around!” Spider-Man scolded Ned, his voice returning back to normal as he tugged on the web to slowly pull the lift up.

Your insides were still flipped and in all the wrong places, mind frozen as you sat on the ground, still rattled, with tears pushing hard against your waterline. Your breathing was loud and labored, which caught Liz’s attention.

“Hey,” she sat down beside you, voice husky, still half dazed herself, “we’re gonna be okay.” She said, almost as if she was trying to convince herself with her words, "We’re safe now.”

She paused for a moment, "I know what happened to you at Delmar’s-“ You saw Spider-Man’s head swerve towards the both of you for a second as you inhaled sharply. “-but you’re okay. We’re all going to be fine.”

You tilted your head towards her, tracing over her messed up hair and flushed cheeks, dirt painting her face but a small, hopeful smile sat on her lips. You managed to give her a nod and a squeeze of her hand in acknowledgment. Though it did nothing to calm you down, you were still grateful for her sincerity and effort in trying to do so.

“All right, everyone out.” Spider-Man demanded once you reached the level where the security guards were waiting. His grunting made it sound like he didn’t have as much time as he needed, and every person made their way out slowly but carefully.

You shakily stood on your legs, waiting for everyone to get out and counting down until it was your turn. Three, Ned was out first. Two, Mr. Harrington made it to the other side. One, Liz was safely out as she looked back at you and stretched her arm, palm open and awaiting your own.

You quickly skidded across the floor, and just as your skin touched hers, the web broke into two with a splick sound.

And for the next second you were falling to your death, all on your own.

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Tags: @peachescream06

[marvelobsessedteenager]

All The Hurt - Chapter 2

Pairing: Peter Parker x fem!reader

Warnings: ANGST, Peter was an ass, reader is a hurt and petty bitch, fluff to make up for the angst, curse words, lots of “coincidences”

Word Count: 4.1k

A/n: The amount of love I've gotten is absolutely incredible. Thank you guys for the support! Enjoy :3 -----------------------------------------

Flash had suggested driving both him and yourself to Liz’s house, and you agreed, simply because car rides with him were more fun. You got there earlier than anyone else, giving Flash time to set up his DJ equipment and speakers while you helped Liz and Betty set up the lights, food, and drinks.

Not an hour later and the house was full of people that you knew and didn’t know, but welcomed anyway. Everybody walking around was having a good time, drinking soda out of a red solo cup and dancing to Flash’s party music. You would be lying if you told yourself your eyes weren’t examining the dance floor for a particular bed of curls.

In your mind, you knew there was no way Peter knew Spider-Man. You saw it in the way he told everyone he did today at the gym. His left hand was wildly shaking — a clear telltale of nerves you’d figured out long ago.

Something else was bothering you, though, even if you didn’t want to admit it.

That bruise. You knew for a fact Peter wasn’t a fighter, mainly when it came to bullies - words or actions. He never retaliated, which is why people considered him an easy target. You wouldn’t put it past him to allow himself to get beaten up, but you would have known if that’d happened. Flash was definitely his number one bully, but he wouldn’t dare lay a finger on Peter, and neither would any of his friends, especially since they all knew your history with Peter.

They were all bark and no bite, which meant that there was another explanation for it, but for the love of God, you couldn’t figure out what it was.

And speak of the devil.

You smirked as you caught sight of him, worried thoughts vanishing as you weaved your way through the crowd to Flash, whispering in his ear about your discovery. He flashed you a wicked smile, turned down the music, and grabbed the mic.

“Penis Parker! What’s up?” Flash yelled into the mic, causing Peter to freeze and turn to look at Flash, who was pointing right at him.

“Hey, Y/n,” Flash pretended to search the crowd then turned to you, “Where do you think his pal Spider-Man is?” He placed the mic below your lips and waited for your preplanned answer.

“Hm, let me a guess.” You sweetly said, tapping your chin like you were thinking, “in Canada with his imaginary girlfriend?” You raised your eyebrows, eyes boring into Peter’s with fire burning behind your pupils, your brain ignoring your heart that was begging you to stop upsetting him as you caught the flash of hurt that crossed his features.

The crowd laughed and “ooh” ed as Flash played a “burn” sound effect, “That’s not Spider-Man,” He jutted his chin towards Ned, “that’s just Ned in a red shirt.”

You watched him walk away from the giggling crowd, fuming, and you bumped your fist with Flash's in victory. He turned up the music, and you made your way to the dance floor with your friends, as you swayed your hips to the loud tune. Your group sang loudly to the songs, and though it was deafening and off-tune, you never felt freer than when you screamed the lyrics with them.

At some point, your voice started sounding raspy, and your throat was begging you for some sort of liquid to heal the ache. You excused yourself from the group, walked to the kitchen and grabbed a solo cup, filling it with cool water and chugging it down.

But, of fucking course, someone had to ruin your night and your favorite white dress by bumping into you and spilling coke on your outfit. That someone was a girl with piercing blue eyes and brown hair — someone you didn't recognize. It was clear she didn’t go to Midtown considering she squeaked an apology and ran to her friends, who glanced back at you and immediately dashed out of the house.

Great.

You would ask Liz for another dress, but you weren’t exactly tight with her. You’d also ask your friends to take you home to change, but as you looked at them jumping around and bobbing their heads to the music, you figured they were having too much fun, and you didn’t want to ruin it.

You would normally call your driver, but you hadn’t had the chance to set up your new phone just yet.

Sighing, you grabbed your denim jacket you hid below the counter earlier, put it on, and began your journey home on foot. Your house was located about thirty minutes away from Liz’s, which wasn’t really a big deal for you.

About fifteen minutes of strolling in silence and kicking any rock that caught your eye, you passed by a playground that looked familiar. It was the very same playground you and Peter would play in when you were children. You’d take turns pushing each other on the swing, and when you were old enough to do it yourself, you would both compete to see who’d go higher and who could jump off the swing the farthest. It always resulted in an injury, but you two always laughed it off, especially when Jane would run over worriedly with a first-aid kit.

As you went into your early teenage years, you’d meet at the playground alone and climb to the top of the dome climber with different (and disgusting) flavored milkshakes, exchanging it with each other every now and again, and watch the river flow peacefully.

The same river in which Iron-Man is flying out of with Spider-Man in his arms.

Wait, what?

You snapped out of your reverie and did a double take before you quickly dove into one of the many bushes, the quick rate of your heartbeat becoming a distraction from the fresh cut on your exposed neck from the sharp branches.

You could see everything that was happening in front of you, but not necessarily hear everything. Your wide eyes curiously peeked over the bushes, watching as Iron-Man placed Spider-Man on the dome. And maybe it was your hearing, but you swore you knew the high pitched voice that was exaggeratedly saying something.

You saw Spider-Man tug his mask off and wring it out, which made the back of his head incredibly visible. Brown hair. Or maybe black. It was too dark to see the difference. You debated moving a little closer to hear the conversation.

Deep down, you knew it wasn’t right. Spider-Man was entitled to protect his identity. But you could keep a secret. Besides, maybe this could be the moment you’d thank him for saving you. You doubted he’d remember what he did, but you’d never forget.

So, you crept a little closer to make out the words, despite your gut telling you you shouldn’t.

“What were you thinking?” Iron-Man asked in a way that made you believe Spider-Man was in trouble.

“The guy with the wings is obviously the source of the weapons, I gotta take him down!”

Wait. That sounds like-

“Take him down now, huh? Steady, Crockett, there are people who handle this sort of thing.” Iron-Man said, waving his arm around.

“The Avengers?”

“No, no, no, just a little below their…pay grade.”

“Anyway, Mr. Stark, you didn’t have to come all the way out here, I-I had that. I was fine.”

But that was all you could hear. Because as the conversation went on, the gears in your head begun turning, the dots seemed to connect faster than you could comprehend.

The strange bruise on his jaw after it was shown on the news that a certain superhero fought robbers at the bank across Delmar’s. Him running out of school once it was over. The fact that he left school for two weeks and mysteriously came back. Him ‘allegedly’ saying your name when he saved you. All the times he ditched you in the past were the same times Spider-Man was on the news for a heroic saving. You remembered because you’d send the news to Peter. The “Stark Internship” excuse wasn’t real.

But this was.

Peter Parker is Spider-Man.

Peter Parker saved your life.

The amount of information was loud. So, so, loud. You couldn’t hear the bickering that went on. A rush of emotions went through you. The first was rage. Is this it? Is this is his reason for letting you go? He couldn’t have just been honest and told you? You bet he told Ned. But he couldn’t tell you, could he?

But just as quickly as it came, your anger left you, instead being replaced with worry. You hated to admit it, but you were worried about him. How could he go out there every day and put his life on the line like that? What about his wounds and injuries? Did he suffer through those alone? Or did May help him heal?

Does May even know? Does anybody know?

Lastly, panic, and that was the strongest of them all. Holy shit, you thought, I just found out that my ex best friend and former crush is a superhero. He shoots webs out of his hands or something and sticks to walls and saves strangers and fights criminals and-

And Iron-Man is flying away.

And Spider-Man is walking in your direction.

I need to go.

As soon as you turned around, still crouched but ready to fucking bolt, you accidentally stepped on something hard, and you had to bite your tongue to keep your hissing inside. Once the pain slightly subsided, you looked downwards and moved your head closer to the object. A loud purring sound was emitting from it, and if there was anything in this world that screamed danger, it was this.

You were careful to pick it up and examine it. In the middle of this..machine was a bright purple stone and it was fucking glowing. You looked around you and caught Spider-Man muttering something to himself right before an obnoxious ringing made its way into your ears, prompting you to cringe and put your hands over them as you crouched.

It’s the same annoying fucking ringtone as Peter’s.

You waited for him to move a little farther, and when he did, you peeked from behind the bush. He had just closed the phone and continued his walk. You didn’t know if this thing was a bomb or something explosive, so throwing it in his direction was already ruled out. Besides, he was already beyond throw distance. You knew the safest way to get it to him.

You knew what to do. You hated that you did, but you had to do it.

Maybe hearing him talk to you would confirm or deny your hypothesis. Anybody could have brown hair, a high-pitched voice and the same ringtone as your ex-best friend and be a superhero that saved you two weeks ago.

You took a deep breath to calm your hammering heart from ripping through your ribcage and escaping. “I hate my life,” you mumbled as you rose and followed him with your heart still beating out of your chest, almost sure it was louder than your barely audible footsteps.

Don’t trip, don’t trip.

When you got close to him, close enough to tap him on the shoulder, he quickly turned around and got into a fighting position with his fists ready to punch. You were so shocked that you dropped the object and backed away with your hands up, “Whoa, whoa, whoa, easy. ”

Upon seeing a citizen (that he knew too well) he dropped his stance, “S-uh..sorry. I-I thought you..uh..” He cleared his throat, “Sorry, ma’am. How can I help you?” He said, very clearly thickening his voice and awkwardly placing his hands on his hips.

But you knew that sound anywhere.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. It is him.

You attempted to swallow the lump in your throat as you felt it clogging your ability to breathe.

“Uh, hi. I’m Y/n.” You mentally smacked yourself. He already knows you, dumbass.

Should you tell him he knows you, though? Should you tell him you know him? No, what? You vehemently shook your head.

“A-anyway I, um, found this-” You picked up the object and turned it around in your hands, “-on my way home and I think it’ll help you? I don’t know, it’s definitely not man-made, I suppose. I’m not exactly an expert but I thought you’d be and you just so happened to be in my neighborhood and I am, too, and this thing is glowing and-”

His spider..eye..thingies were as wide as saucers, and it was only now that you noticed you were rambling. Your cheeks flushed, and you immediately cursed at your body for betraying you.

This is worse than tripping.

“Sorry,” you looked down at your shoes, "I babble when I’m-“ Nope. Not letting him know you’re nervous. Not that he doesn’t already know. You found yourself regretting telling him all your triggers and quirks in the past, because right now, you couldn’t tell whether he could figure you out or not.

He probably could, though.

This night just kept getting worse. Pack it up already.

You cleared your throat and straightened your shoulders in the most confident way you could, “Here,” you outstretched your arm to him, waiting for him to grab the foreign object, but all he did was stare, and stare, and stare. You didn't really know where to look, and you didn't know if he was gazing at you or not, but before you could say anything, he snapped out of whatever he was in and took a hold of the object. You tried not to think about his masked fingers that grazed yours.

“Thanks, uh, Y/n.”  He said, not as intrigued by the object as you thought he’d be. Instead, he seemed to be looking at you. Or behind you. You still couldn't tell. You were too caught up in the way he said your name. It felt strangely familiar, and comforted you for a moment. It made you feel safe and wanted. Loved.

Before the memories reminded you of what he’d done.

“Sure,” you nodded, slowly backing away, “um, see you...around.”

“Yeah.”

As you turned on your heel to continue your trip home, he pipped up, “Oh, um, would- do you want me to walk you home? It’s really dark out here.”

You entertained the thought in your head for a second. "What could possibly happen if he walked you home, besides guaranteeing you safety?” Your heart spoke.

"Oh, I don’t know, you could accidentally blurt out that you know him, and then things will get even more awkward than they already are.” Your brain fought back, stubborn as ever.

Yeah, you’re definitely just going to pass up his offer.

“I’m, uh, I’m good. Need a little time to myself.” You nervously chuckled, wrapping your arms around yourself, “Thanks, though, I appreciate it.”

“Yeah.” He repeated, shifting his weight from one foot to another as he watched you walk away from him.

Like he’d done to you.

The rest of the fifteen minutes passed by faster than you anticipated, but maybe it was because you were too preoccupied considering you just confirmed your ex-best friend was a fucking superhero with fucking superpowers. As the confirmation made its way into your brain, you noticed that the signs were right beneath your nose, but you weren’t observant enough to figure it out. They started before he left you.

How did it start to begin with? Has he always had these powers?

Wait, no. Because Spider-Man wasn’t always around. And even if he really did have them for a long time, why leave you now? It must’ve been recent, you concluded.

But how? How does one go from an ordinary, lanky teenager to a robust superhero who can stop a speeding bus with his bare hands?

As one question was answered, another one took its place. The list just kept going and going, without a clear sign of it stopping.

In all honesty, you thought the videos that popped up on your YouTube recommended page of a web-slinging human were staged. In your defense, he seemed quite small to be a hero, and it wouldn’t be the first time some kid tried to fool the world with “a new superhero". You remember sending it to Peter and asking him if he thought it was real.

He never answered.

You hadn’t realized you were standing on your porch, staring at the overly large mahogany door in front of you. You sighed and took out your keys, placing them in the lock and twisting it.

You were lucky today was the beginning of the weekend. You wouldn’t be able to face him after seeing what you just saw. You didn’t know how to feel. You didn’t know what to do. Should you let him know that you know?

Should you let anyone know that you know?

That was the worst part about this whole thing. You had no one to turn to. No one to talk to about this, and there definitely wouldn’t be a wikiHow page on how to deal with something like this.

So, you ruled it out. One of the choices was obviously keeping the secret to yourself and not telling Peter you knew his identity. It would keep things from getting too awkward to handle and would keep him safe.

The other choice, the really horrible one, was to let everyone know. A part of you was still mad at what he’d done. You mean, he didn’t even try to apologize as he should’ve. That evil part of you, the hurt part, wanted revenge — wanted you to ruin Peter like he did you.

You knew people would believe you if you told them. You knew they’d find their ways to figure out if it’s true or not. But for some reason, you were hesitant. Yes, Peter ruined your life. Yes, Peter broke you in ways you believed were beyond mendable.

But Peter was also the boy who gave you his last Iron-Man bandaid when you scraped your elbow the first time you met. He’s the boy who pushed your bully and got punched in the face for it when you were ten. He’s the boy who saved your life the other day - the boy who saves dozens of strangers every week.

It was clear which option was better.

Keeping his secret didn’t mean you forgave him, though.

After everything, you didn’t know if you allowed yourself to forgive him. Part of you wanted you to, pleaded you to for the sake of moving on, but the more stubborn part of you remembered the pain you went through; the nights you spent crying yourself to sleep, the newfound insecurities of not being enough for anybody, the fear that others will leave you behind like he did.

Hell, you had a locked note in your notes app that contained a long speech about how you felt — about how he made you feel. The one you were to send him — but ended up deleting.

You groaned and rubbed your head, feeling an oncoming headache from the questions. You stayed in your house that weekend, trapped with a racing mind and no answers to slow it down.

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You started noticing Peter act differently towards you when your freshman year of high school was close to ending. It started off with him rescheduling long-awaited plans and then showing up late, but you didn’t mind. He had told you he scored an internship at Stark Industries, and you swore you’d never felt prouder in your entire life.

He informed you that he could be called in at any given moment, which was his reason for leaving in the middle of your hangouts. You understood, and so, you encouraged him to do so.

But then, as time went by, you noticed a change. Instead of postponing the plans, he’d cancel them all together and wouldn’t make up for them. And sometimes, in the rare occasion in which he did postpone them, he’d stand you up, keeping you awake until you were on the brink of sleep.

He apologized multiple times for doing so, blaming it on the time the internship took for him, and you let it go, even when it became a pattern to leave you stranded.

You were okay with it.

Until it became too much.

During lunch, you could never find him, which ended up with you eating alone. During the only class you shared with him, he’d zone out while you were talking and completely ignore you. You’d normally come out of your last period ready to see him standing by your locker to begin your journey home, but he stopped being there, and you would walk home alone.

Texts and calls went unnoticed, and you felt the barrier he had placed between the two of you grow higher and higher as the time passed by.

What bothered you is that it was just with you. He acted completely normal around Ned. You often saw them chatting and laughing while you watched from afar, heart breaking into two as you wondered where you went wrong. You inspected every text message you sent and every conversation you had, often staying up late re-reading it until you reached the top. You just didn’t understand what happened.

One day, you approached him after school, running after him as he bolted through the school’s gates into the outside.

“Hey!” You called as you caught up to him and grabbed his arm, which flexed beneath your grip. You sighed and slightly loosened your grasp, “Can, um, can we talk?”

Peter visibly gulped, hesitantly nodding as his eyes bounced around your figure, never looking at you.

“Peter.” You ran a hand through your hair, carefully choosing your next words as to approach this topic cautiously, “What’s going on with you? You..you’ve been acting weird and distant. D-did do something?”

“I’m not acting weird,” Peter said, almost offendedly, quick to defend himself.

“Peter we haven’t hung out in weeks because you’ve been canceling them.” You retaliated.

“I told you, I-it’s the internship.”

You frowned, heart clenching at the tiredness that seeped into his voice, “I know.” You gave him a small smile, hoping for one in return, “I’m your best friend. I’m always here for you, you know.”

“I-“ He sharply inhaled, scratching the back of his head with his shaking left hand. “I don’t want you to be.”

Your smile instantly dropped, feeling a painful nudge in your stomach, “What?”

“I don’t..this isn’t working, Y/n. We can’t be friends anymore. I’m done.” He said. And so easily, too.

I’m done, he’d said.

Your heart stopped for a moment, taken aback by his bluntness and the harshness that came with his words, “What? Why? N-no.” You denied, "You’re just gonna leave? You can’t do that, I..What did I do?”

“Nothing. It’s just..it’s just better this way.” Peter visibly gulped, looking around the streets like he wasn’t standing there, breaking your fragile heart into pieces while you were trying your hardest to not fall apart right in front of him.

Dignity was still a thing. But so was your friendship.

“I can’t fix this if you won’t let me, Pete.” You pleaded, hoping he’d admit that something was wrong - that it wasn’t you that he was pushing away, that there was a reason for him doing so. You could fix this. You could.

“There’s nothing to fix. I don’t want to be friends, that’s it.” He shrugged, shuffling backward, getting ready to make a run from it.

“No,” you stopped him, grabbing his hand softly, despite the tears that already ran down your face, “There has to be a reason! Y-you can’t just leave like that! Give me a reason! WHAT DID I DO?!”

When he didn’t respond, you gave his loose hand a squeeze and wiped your tears with your sleeve, already feeling stupid for the amount of vulnerability you were displaying, especially when you weren’t getting any sort of reaction out of him besides coldness.

“Peter. Peter, please, just l-let me fix this.” You said, voice cracking, "You’re all I have left. Please don’t do this.”

You were begging. You knew you were, but you couldn’t let him leave without putting up a fight. You were a step away from begging on your knees, but you didn’t. You were able to stop yourself from doing so, but you still believed you could get through whatever this is - you were so sure of it.

But you never did.

And you swore he had ripped your heart from your chest, stepped on it, and nonchalantly walked away, leaving you to deal with the pain of the heartbreak on the sidewalk.

Previous Chapter Next Chapter All The Hurt Masterlist Main Masterlist

[marvelobsessedteenager]

bestie all the hurt is literally so good!!! i love the plot and i love ur writing‼️

You’re so sweet, thank you!! 🥺 🥰

[marvelobsessedteenager]

Pleassseeee that was so good lol i loved it

THANK YOU SIDUFHFHU 🥺🥺

[marvelobsessedteenager]

Chapter 1 of all the hurt? *chef’s kiss* I can’t wait for the next part!!

Thank you so much! Your support means the world to me <3 🥰

[marvelobsessedteenager]

All The Hurt - Chapter 1

Pairing: Peter Parker x fem!reader

Warnings: ANGST, Peter was an ass, reader is a hurt and petty bitch, fluff to make up for the angst, curse words, lots of “coincidences”, description of an explosion and blood.

Summary: Peter Parker. What a dick. It wasn’t always like this, but once he just got up and gladly left you for an unknown reason, you decided to bring hell down on him by publicly ridiculing him whenever you got the chance. However, when you accidentally find out what he's been hiding, conflicted feelings begin emerging, causing you to wonder if you could ever forgive him — especially when he saves your life.

Word Count: 2.6k

A/n: this came to me in a fucking dream so you bet I had to wake up and write this. It’s already completed hehe. I’m going to be posting the parts every day so stay tuned :D

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Never in your entire life would you have thought that there’d be a time when you’d willingly side with Flash. When you’d join him in bullying Peter, your best friend that you’d known since the both of you were shitting yourselves in diapers. Not a night goes by in which you don’t ask yourself why.

Why did he decide to break you?

The day he told you he didn’t want to be friends with you anymore was a day worse than finding out your father had cheated on your mother, prompting her to abruptly exit both your and your father’s lives when you were eleven. In all honesty, it felt like Peter took notes about suddenly leaving when you cried to him about your mother disappearing and used them to his advantage the summer before freshman year.

It was a pain like no other, a wound so hurtful your tear tank was constantly emptied every time you were alone in your room. There were too many nights where you’d lie awake with an ache in your chest - like someone dropped an avalanche on your heart and left it there to crush it.

Friendship breakups hurt like hell.

The days seemed to move slow and the nights even slower. You didn’t know how much time had passed when you’d blankly stare at your collection of photos of the two of you with tear stricken cheeks.

You constantly wondered if he regretted it.

And if he did, you told yourself you’d forgive him. You’d go back to him, because you were sure he didn’t mean it. Excuses began piling up in your mind, each one not having enough evidence to be proven true; maybe he was going through something he didn’t want to talk about. Maybe someone in his life died, like when Uncle Ben suddenly passed away. He didn’t speak to you for a week and didn’t show up to school, and when you went over to check on him, he broke down in your arms as he apologized for ignoring you, but you understood.

You always did.

So, you waited, and waited, and waited. Waited for a call, a text, something. But nothing ever came. No phone calls — he ignored yours — no apologies, no explanation, nothing but radio silence. It was almost like you never existed in the first place.

Day by day your hope slowly faded, and by the 56th day, all of it was gone. You didn’t know how to feel. You were furious at him for abandoning you. You were heartbroken. You told yourself you were being overdramatic — it wasn’t like you were in a relationship together, no matter how much you wanted to be.

All he ever saw you as was a friend. But that was before it all happened. Now he probably didn’t see you as anything but a stranger.

A stranger with memories and secrets revolving him.

Hot anger was quick to take control of your mind, and soon you stopped your crying and tore down years worth of captured memories and pinned birthday cards he made you - all reminders of how much you loved him - and threw them into a box. You shoved it to the back of your closet, along with your dignity and love for him.

Four months after your ‘breakup', you came back different. Newfound confidence shone out of you with every step you made down Midtown’s hallways. Your smile radiated happiness as you felt everyone’s eyes lay upon you. You were able to fool yourself and others around you that nothing happened. Your heart knew better, but soon it’d turn to stone.

And you convinced yourself that you preferred it that way.

You moved on, found friendship in others, and although they never lived up to him, they were enough to fill part of the gaping hole in your heart.

Flash making amends with you was probably the most surprising and unexpected thing to have ever happened in the school. You two got along well, almost too well, and about halfway into the school year, you became good friends. You two weren’t as close as you and Peter once were, but you bonded over your absent parents in ways you didn’t know were possible.

You felt understood, and he the same.

Still, that didn’t stop you from seeing Peter in the hallways. You made it a point to walk past him like you didn’t know him — because apparently, you didn’t.

You kept watching him from a distance.

You watched him make goo-goo eyes at Liz while rolling your own.

You watched him dart out of school at exactly two forty-five every day. You saw the anxiousness in the way he bounced his leg during class, the tapping of his pencil on the desk, the constant glances he threw at the clock with every minute that passed. You wanted to ask, but you didn’t.

On a particular day, the same day you overheard him and Ned making plans to meet up at his house to build Legos, you decided to go to Delmar’s to grab a bite. You hadn’t been there since the breakup, as you were always too nervous in case Peter ended up going there at the same time, and now that there was a clearing, you took it. Even if he was there, you didn't care.

You don’t.

When you stepped into the store, you were immediately welcomed by the one and only Mr. Delmar. He looked good — happy and content, and that’s why you absolutely adored him. It wasn’t fair that you cut off ties with him because of Peter, but he didn’t seem to take it personally. He went on and on about how much taller you’ve gotten and reminisced about how little you were when you and Peter got your first flattened number five sandwiches with pickles.

He must’ve seen your smile falter at the mention of Peter, because his eyebrows furrowed in concern not a moment later, “Did something happen to you kids? I never see him come with you anymore.”

So he’s been coming without you.

Ouch. That’s another stab to the heart.

Your palms began to feel slick as you rubbed them on your jeans with a strained smile and a shaky voice, feeling as if the walls were closing in on you, “Uh-we-“

But you never got to finish. Mr. Delmar’s eyes widened at something behind you, and in a split second, he yelled, “Get down!” followed by a string of Spanish curse words.

A scream left your mouth as a purple wave of something ripped through the bodega, nearly missing you by a strand of hair as you ducked. Shattered glass scattered everywhere, digging into the skin of your arms in a multitude of places. You hissed at the burn you felt below your eye, feeling a heavy liquid (which you assumed was blood) trail down your cheek and neck. You felt intense heat near your legs and your vision became blurred, ears ringing as all other noises besides your breathing became muffled. You coughed and coughed, feeling like your lungs were closing in on themselves from the fire that surrounded you.

The light above you flickered as you attempted to shout Mr. Delmar’s name, praying that he was all right.

But your voice never left your throat.

Your legs were trapped below two giant shelves that collapsed on them, and you weren’t strong enough to move them no matter how many times you tried to. The fire slithered like a snake as it began climbing to where your legs were being held below the rubble.

“Help.” You weakly whispered in between your coughs. The air around you felt heavy and limited, and it was starting to feel like you were choking on the fumes. You didn’t know how much longer your lungs could take.

It was hot. So fucking hot.

Your eyes shut and your head fell back on the ground, chest heaving in fast paces as you felt your body give up already, a burning sensation spreading all over you, like your insides were set on fire.

Your face trickled with sweat that dripped down to your cheeks, mixing with your tears.

Just when all hope was gone, just when you thought you were done for, you felt the weight lift off of your legs in one sudden movement, and an arm slide beneath your knees and on your back, holding you tightly.

You looked up at your savior, and who else could it have been other than Spider-Man, New York’s knight in shining armor, and apparently yours, too. You heard part of what he seemed to be saying as he looked down at you: “…got…I…you” and you could’ve sworn you heard your name.

But then again, you were on the brink of death, so you were no doubt hearing things.

You laid your tired head on his chest, wheezing into his smooth suit as he ran and jumped away from the fire until he reached the outside. He gingerly placed you on the ground and made you lean back against a parked car, and you breathed in the cool night air as he crouched down to rub your back while you practically choked.

In front of Spider-Man.

How embarrassing.

You felt your head heavily fall back as you clutched your arm in pain, the distant sound of police sirens audible now. Your eyes landed upon his covered face that turned away when you looked at him - like he was staring at you until you caught him. You could see that he wanted to go somewhere in the way that his spidey-eyes were expanding and shrinking at the destroyed bank across the street. You moved to touch your legs, and by some miracle, they were just a little sore. You could manage on your own.

“Go,” you breathily said, making Spider-Man look down at you, “I’m okay.”

He hesitated for a moment and pivoted his head to your legs. You breathed out half a laugh, coughing again, “Dude,” you placed a hand on his shoulder and jutted towards your legs as you began moving them, “they’re fine. I’m fine. I know you wanna go somewhere. Just go after it.”

He stayed. For a long minute, just watching you breathe and tilt your head at him. You wondered what was going on in that brain of his, wondered how old he was, wondered where he went to school - if he even went to school. You were trying to formulate a way to thank him for saving you, but you didn’t get the chance to. He nodded and quickly he sprung away, making way for the paramedics and cops to inspect the scene.

You didn’t go to school for a whole week after the incident, as you were too busy reflecting on what had happened. You went over multiple scenarios and “what if’s” and tried not to dwell on the fact that you had to have your driver pick you up from the hospital, not your father. He was probably out of the country, like he always was.

When you finally returned to school, you had stitched up three areas, including one below your eye, and were bombarded with questions and a large group hug from your friends. Your phone was no doubt a goner, so they had no way of contacting you. Even when they tried to come over, your housekeeper, Jane, always the responsible adult, told them the doctor needed you to rest alone.

She knew you couldn’t handle people, and needed to recharge on your own. She was like the mother you never had. Even when Peter left, she stayed by your side and tried to cheer you up. She knew how strong your feelings were for Peter, but she didn’t question you, instead allowing you to grieve the way you wanted to - alone.

Your friends asked you about what happened, and their eyes sparkled when you told them the Spider-Man came to your rescue, their excitement cutting short once the bell rang. They all left to go to their classes after wishing you a quick recovery. All but one.

Flash stood in front of you, nibbling on his lower lip with a wobbling chin and glassy eyes.

“Are you..crying?” you squinted at him, lips twitching into a smirk.

“Shut up,” he mumbled, wiping the stray tears before attacking you with a tight hug. You sighed deeply, feeling a nostalgic warmth spread through your chest as you placed your chin on his shoulder, arms circulating him and squeezing in a way that said "I’m here."

In class, you felt hardcore stares — stares that came from one person and one person only. You saw them from the corner of your eye, tracing the scar on your face. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think they were laced with worry. But perhaps you hit your head too hard.

During gym class, the last class of the day, you were excused from exercises due to your near-death experience, so you watched and cheered Flash as he climbed the ropes, attempting to break his own record.

“48 seconds.” You stated, pausing the timer as he jumped to the ground and planted his hands on his knees, breathing hard.

He looked up at you with a deep frown, “Seriously? How did I get slower?”

You shrugged, “Maybe you should change your nickname, Eugene.” You smirked, taunting him with the name you knew he hated.

He breathed out a laugh as he shook his head. He was about to say something when Ned’s voice overpowered everyone else’s with one sentence: “Peter knows Spider-Man!”

Everybody went so silent you’d think the queen of England had just walked in.

The sound of balls being dropped and shoes squeaking echoed through the gym as all heads turned to Peter Parker, who nervously looked around and quickly stood up, “Uh, no! No, I don’t. I-I mean..”

He clumsily made his way over to Liz (go figure), whose face remained expressionless.

“They’re friends,” Ned said as a matter of factly.

“Yeah, like Coach Wilson and Captain America are friends,” Flash said, making a couple of people laugh, including you.

“I’ve met him, yeah, a-a couple of times. But it’s um, through the...Stark...Internship. I’m not really supposed to talk about it.” He gritted through his teeth as he threw daggers at Ned with wide eyes.

“Well, that’s awesome!” You piped in, your loud sarcasm breaking the silence that settled over the gym, "He’s a pretty cool guy, I’m sure Liz would love to meet him. Hey, maybe you should invite him to her party.”

“Yeah, I’m having people over tonight, you’re more than welcome to come.” Liz sweetly admitted, almost like she wanted him to come.

Ew.

“You’re having a party?” Peter said breathlessly, as if that wasn’t what you just said.

Flash gave Peter a snarling smile, “Yeah, it’s gonna be dope. You should totally invite your personal friend Spider-Man.” He suggested, derision oozing out of his words.

“Um-“ Peter stammered, helpless eyes searching for assistance in your own. But you wouldn’t give him any sympathy. Not anymore. You stared back, cold as ice, and you knew he saw that. You merely gave him a raised eyebrow, challenging him to say something.

“It’s okay,” Liz said, breaking you and Peter’s eye contact, “I know Peter’s way too busy for parties anyways so..”

“Oh, come on, he’ll be there. Parker wouldn’t ditch.” You said, voice dripping with venom as you maintained eye contact with him and walked past Flash until you reached him. You stopped at his side, just enough to give him a deadly stare, “Right?”

You watched his Adam’s apple bob and eyes dart across the ground as his fingers tangled with one another to conceal his shaking left hand. You studied his face, ignoring something that looked like a fading bruise on his jaw. The school bell rang, and with that, Flash walked to you, raising his hand for a fist pump. You bumped yours with his with a smirk and walked out the gym doors, ready to call Peter out on his bullshit once more tonight.

Next Chapter All The Hurt Masterlist Main Masterlist

[marvelobsessedteenager]

All The Hurt Masterlist

Pairing: Peter Parker x fem!reader

Summary: Peter Parker. What a dick. It wasn’t always like this, but once he just got up and gladly left you for an unknown reason, you decided to bring hell down on him by publicly ridiculing him whenever you got the chance. However, when you accidentally find out what he's been hiding, conflicted feelings begin emerging, causing you to wonder if you could ever forgive him — especially when he saves your life.

Chapter 1 

Chapter 2

Chapter 3 

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

[marvelobsessedteenager]

So I'll cut to the chase on this since a lot of people are dying, drowning, and screaming for help in Cagayan and Isabela, Philippines. A lot of them have also been stranded and are standing on their rooftops as we speak.

I'm here to post a collection of donation drives that I've gathered online. If we can't help them physically, we can at least make sure they have monetary assistance, food and clothing once they're evacuated.

This is how Cagayan looks, from recent photos (not mine)

TW: screams and shouts for help

HOW TO HELP

DONATION DRIVES

Please feel free to add on this post for any other ways to help.

For context:

The Philippines has been hit by three consecutive typhoons this month alone: Quinta, Rolly (Goni internationally) and Ulysses. It's been hitting nearly the same areas, which has made them even more vulnerable now that they're still recovering from the previous typhoons. Our mountain ranges couldn't shield us from this due to heavy quarrying and deforestation.

That said, these aren't the only places in need of assistance. But these are the places in urgent need of help. And we're trying to do as best as we can with what little we have.

I'll update this post from time to time for full transparency.

[November 14, 2020 3:13 AM GMT+8]

[marvelobsessedteenager]

why writing takes forever

writer: *stops mid-sentence* damn what's the word I want?

writer: *spends 25 minutes on google trying to figure out the right vocab word*

writer: *gets a paragraph done*

writer: *starts another sentence, stops* what is that really specific fact I need?

writer: *spends an hour trying to figure out this obscure thing that probably doesn't actually matter*

writer: Wait what's that thing called again?

writer: *has no idea how to search for what I need*

writer: *ends up digging through blogs and other archived websites for details*

writer: *needs to reference source material for fact checking*

writer: *has to eat and sleep at some point*

writer: should it be "she regards him with disdain" or "she glares at him with disdain" ??? (hint: it doesnt matter but gunna go back and forth over it for an hour)

writer: *gets distracted by the internet in general*

writer: HOW IS THIS ONLY 800 WORDS???????

writer: fuck proofreading

writer: okay fine i'll proofread.

writer: holy shit this is awful.

writer: *reworks entire sections*

writer: *doesn't think I'm good enough as a writer and stops for a few days*

writer: repeat process as needed.

[marvelobsessedteenager]

Actually life is beautiful because the sound I make while trying to breathe around hot food sounds like my dog trying to eat an apple. When I yawn my cat tries to put his face in my mouth like a little dentist man and when he yawns I put my finger in his obligate-carnivore trapzone and we both know he will not hurt me. When I do not fold my clothes, they do not hold it against me.

I am demonstrably sad, and lonely, and full of fear. But there are other people who will hold my hand, who will point out the hawk overhead, who will give you That Look in a public place. The other day at a coffee shop a child said "look! It's snowing!" so all of us strangers went to go look out the windows. It wasn't the first snow and it won't be the last but wasn't it lovely, like that?

How wonderful to live in a world where birds and frogs both say beep! How wonderful to have an ocean of beautiful sharks with their dinosaur teeth! How wonderful the moon and her changing face, how wonderful the bees and their dancing to communicate, how wonderful shrimp and their forbidden layers of vision! How wonderful, you, and what you will give the world! The way we love things enough to spend entire blogs devoted to them? How people will let me explain my Pokemon team to them? How we will both jump at the scare in the movie, how we laugh so loudly, how it feels to give someone your baking? How wonderful to be alive. I am sorry for forgetting.

This is the process of getting better. With wonderful people and wonderful strangers and wonderful friends: I am getting better, slowly. Thank you, whoever you are. In some way, you've been wonderful, and left a wonderful place in the world to ripple out to me. In some small way - isn't it beautiful - I promise, you've been helping.

[marvelobsessedteenager]

I. FEEL. LOVED.