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unpublishediary · 1 month

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4th of July Confessions [ conrad fisher ]

SYNOPSIS‧₊˚ conrad confesses his feelings for you after a week of fighting and makes sure you know his feelings are real.

INTEREST₊˚ conrad fisher x you

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Not much time had passed since Conrad started his plan to win you back, and you were already growing suspicious.

First, it started with him going to your favorite place to grab your breakfast. He made it a point to hand you a croissant with more than familiar packaging, a gesture that seemed to bring back memories and leave you questioning his intentions.

Then he sat right next to you, even nudging your knee with his as you all ate breakfast, a deliberate closeness that bordered on invasive, stirring up a greater mixture of nostalgia and confusion within you.

Now he was volunteering to help you make the guest bedroom for Belly's dad and his dad's girlfriend.

You knew that Conrad had never been one for chores or family obligations lately. His sudden enthusiasm for helping out was as baffling as it was unexpected. Yet, there he was, smoothing out the sheets with surprising skill as he carefully arranged the pillows on the freshly made bed. It was as if he was determined to prove something to you, though you couldn't quite guess what that something might be.

The fact it was the 4th of July made the Cousins Beach air buzz with excitement and anticipation. Flags fluttered in the breeze, and the distant crackle of fireworks echoed through the neighborhood. The sun beat down, casting a warm glow over everything, as if the day itself was celebrating. But you knew that couldn't be it.

Conrad and you worked side by side, folding sheets and fluffing pillows in the guest bedroom, a comfortable rhythm settling between you. It was a far difference from the awkwardness that had plagued your interactions in recent days, replaced instead by a sense of closeness.

Conrad's sleeves were rolled up, revealing the faint sheen of sweat on his brow as he worked diligently, his movements precise and focused. You couldn't help but steal glances at him when he wasn't looking, admiring the way the sunlight caught the strands of his hair and the curve of his jawline.

Your conversation flowed effortlessly, punctuated by shared memories and inside jokes that seemed to bridge the gap between you. With each passing moment, the tension that had once lingered between you melted away, replaced instead by a growing sense of ease and familiarity.

As you smoothed out the final wrinkles in the freshly made bed, Conrad stole a sideways glance at you, his eyes softening with unspoken affection. It was a moment suspended in time, a fleeting glimpse of the connection you had once shared and the possibility of what could be.

"We both know I didn't volunteer just to help you make a bed," Conrad remarked, his voice gentle yet tinged with a hint of playfulness as he sat on the finished bed. "I've been wanting to talk to you forever."

You followed him, sitting down next to him. Your gaze met his with a mixture of curiosity and anticipation. Like you had predicted, there was more to Conrad's sudden eagerness to help than met the eye, and now, as you stood face to face, you couldn't ignore the tension that crackled between you.

"Is that why you insisted on helping me instead of Belly? She did give me a pancake apology," you replied, your tone light but tinged with a hint of teasing.

Your question hung in the air, a thread of curiosity along with a hint of suspicion. As you watched Conrad's reaction, you couldn't help but notice the subtle tightening of his jaw, the way his gaze momentarily flickered, betraying his intention to keep his emotions beneath the surface.

His fingers absently traced the pattern on the bedsheet, a nervous energy coursing through him, while his gaze remained fixed on some distant point, as if lost in a sea of conflicting thoughts.

"I mean, I did tell her off at that party if that helps," you offered, your voice light but teasing. You nudged him with your shoulder, a silent invitation for him to share his thoughts.

Conrad's tension eased slightly at your touch, the warmth of your proximity a balm to his troubled soul.

He glanced at you, his eyes softening with a mixture of gratitude and amusement. "Yeah, I heard something about that," Conrad's lips quirked into a smile at your remark, his gaze softening, "The night of our sleepover, right?"

You nodded, a soft chuckle escaping your lips like a fleeting breeze. The memory of that night danced between you, letting you share a flicker of warmth.

You both fell into another comfortable silence, only to be interrupted by the soft rustle of fabric as you leaned your shoulder into Conrad's. Sensing your proximity, Conrad instinctively inclined his head towards yours. He missed your laughter, but it was more like he missed laughing with you. So much that he found himself on the edge of confession.

In a voice barely above a whisper, Conrad's words lingered in the air, tinged with a hint of vulnerability. "I know we can't go back in time," he paused, "but I want to know everything I missed," he confessed, his nerves palpable despite his attempt to mask them.

You stayed silent.

Conrad's courage swelled within him. With newfound determination, he lifted his gaze to meet yours, his voice a gentle murmur meant for your ears alone. "I really miss you. I miss Bambi, our secret meetings, everything," Conrad admitted, his sincerity echoing in the tender space between you.

Your gaze met Conrad's with an intensity that sent a rush of warmth flooding through your veins. In that moment, you realized how much you felt the same, and it was scary. It was scary that after everything that happened, you could still feel the same way about him that you did the summer before.

Both of you were closer than ever, but you didn't mind.

Your eyes locked, a silent conversation passing between you as you leaned in, your breaths mingling in the space between you. With a gentle touch, Conrad cupped your cheek, his thumb tracing the curve of your jawline, sending shivers down your spine.

Who initiated the final movement would remain unknown. Yet, in that brief instant of contact, your worlds collided. Your lips met his in a tender embrace. It was a kiss filled with longing and reassurance, a promise of all the words left unspoken. In that moment, time seemed to stand still as you lost yourselves in the warmth of each other's embrace.

"Guys!" A series of knocks on the door followed Steven's voice. It startled you both, causing you to pull away rapidly, "They're here!"

Breathless and flushed, Conrad's forehead pressed against yours, your hearts beating in sync. In the quiet aftermath, you shared a smile that turned into nervous laughs, "I also missed this," Conrad murmured, his voice a gentle caress against your skin, as you lingered in the quiet space between words. Had you finally found your way back?

You stood up, taming your curls the best you could with your fingers, "Come on, let's go."

NOTE: this scene is a part of my conrad x oc fic. No prior reading is needed to understand, but if youre interested in reading here are the links (rec to read on watt for faster updates, but a03 is fine too):

wattpad link

a03 link

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unpublishediary · 6 months

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You Need to Sleep (Peter Parker)

SYNOPSIS‧₊˚ Peter notices that you are stressed out and not getting enough sleep. He becomes concerned and determined to help them through it. (encouraging and eventually forcing you to sleep.)

INTEREST₊˚ Peter Parker X Reader

WARNINGS(S)‧₊˚ implied insomnia, stress

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“No coffee run today?�� Peter questioned with a smirk as he watched you rush towards him. Usually you beat him to the train stop every morning with a steaming cup in hand.

“Nope,” you ran your fingers through your tangled hair, slightly annoyed that you didn't have time to brush it before leaving, “I slept through my alarm.”

“That’s unusual for you,” Peter joked, but his face fell, noticing that your usual enthusiasm wasn’t there, “hey you ok?”

“Yeah,” you looked at him, but it seemed that your mind wasn’t completely there, “just an off morning.”

He thought for a bit, “how about this,” he spoke up, “next time text me and I’ll grab something for you.”

You gave him a tired smile as the train approached in your peripheral vision, “you don’t need to do that.”

He nudged you with his side, smiling back at you, “I know.”

As the week went on, Peter beat you to the stop every day. Each time, you looked more and more worn out and still didn’t bring the familiar coffee cup he’d gotten used to seeing.

The first couple days he noticed your tiredness, he thought it was because of the absence of caffeine, but on the fifth day he beat you to the stop, he knew it had to be more than that.

“I know you didn’t ask, but I stopped by and got you this.” Peter’s arm was extended towards you with a coffee cup from the cafe you haven't been able to visit in awhile. He slightly wondered why you never texted him to grab something after he offered.

Confusion was still apparent through your tired features, “For me?”

His face turned red, “Yeah, I walked by and figured you would want something too.” That was a slight lie, because he woke up earlier on purpose to find the shop you visited.

You looked down to see another cup in his hand, and took the cup he held out to you, “thank you Peter, it means a lot.”

He nodded but he wanted to bring up what he’d been noticing lately. “Have you— um, have you been getting enough sleep?” The hesitation was apparent in his voice, “you just seem more tired lately.” His concern increased when he would see you fall asleep in class.

The last couple days you had been more tired than usual. The stress you put on yourself to manage both work and extracurriculars while keeping your grades up caught up to you. Sleep became a sacrifice in order to keep up. “To be honest I need to sleep more, but with so much to do it feels impossible.”

Peter knew that feeling, sometimes managing everything along with his other identity felt overwhelming. Seeing your energy drain day by day made him feel bad, he never wanted that for you and he wished he could lift all the weight off your shoulders.

That night after patrolling, Peter found himself knocking on your window. He could see you at your desk lit up by the faint glow of your lamp, reading the book your English teacher gave both of you that week to finish.

He knocked again but you didn’t look up, almost like you were stuck in a trance… or asleep? He would’ve left you there if you were in your bed, but the position you were in looked majorly uncomfortable.

Peter was careful to open the window and walk over to you as quietly as he could. “Hey,” he whispered, touching your shoulder, “Hey it’s time to go to your bed.” You were leaned over on your desk, one hand propping up your head. He shook you a little more and you shot up. “It’s ok, it's just me.” He let out a rushed whisper knowing he scared you, “I just wanted you to sleep comfortably.”

You looked around confused for a second until your gaze fell onto your clock, “No,” you let out, standing up to find your backpack, “no no no I fell asleep?” You had so much to do and you were more behind because you decided to ‘rest your eyes’ in the middle of reading.

“You can do it tomorrow,” Peter insisted, he didn’t like the way you seemed to panic about stopping to rest, “you need to sleep.”

“I can sleep after I’m finished with—”

Peter grabbed your shoulders so you would stop. Looking into your eyes, he repeated himself again, this time slowly. “You need to sleep,” he enunciated each word hoping you would understand that keeping yourself up wasn't healthy and that you needed to stop and take a break.

You shook your head, “Peter—”

He didn’t give up, knowing you wouldn’t rest until you did something else productive, he came up with an idea.

You were confused when he took the book off the desk and pulled you along with him across the bedroom. After throwing the book on your bed, he took off his suit and got into your bed, “come on,” he patted the empty space near him.

You lazily slid under the covers next to him, and he opened the book to where you previously had the bookmark.

“Where did you leave off?” His fingers brushed down the page, “Here?” He asked, brushing his fingers through your hair. Once you nodded, he started to read to you with your head on his chest.

Every time he flipped a page, he looked down to see if you were sleeping. With drooping eyelids he could tell you were trying hard to stay awake, but after a while he sensed your slowing heartbeat and quieted breathing. As he drifted off to sleep with you, he decided that tomorrow’s coffee run would be his treat.

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unpublishediary · 6 months

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Focus On My Heart (peter parker)

INTEREST₊˚ Peter Parker X Reader

SYNOPSIS‧₊˚ Reader also gets bit by a radioactive spider a bit later and goes through sensory overload during school, Peter comforts them through it.

WARNINGS(S)‧₊˚ Sensory overload

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You gave the person behind you ten seconds to stop clicking their pen right behind your head. When you got to ten, you turned around to tell them to stop, but it wasn't them. Confused, you looked around, still hearing the sound, but the person behind you was asleep.

Your breathing quickened when it continued. Other sounds started to force their way through your ears. Someone was drumming their nails on the desk, the crinkling of a water bottle. Your breathing quickened when it continued, the ticking of the clock, then, worst of all, the bell.

The bell was defining. It rang through your ears aggressively, signaling it was time to leave and leaving you to stumble through the door.

The world was too loud, you could hear way too much. Every heartbeat, every whisper, every breath, every footstep, and more traveled through your senses at once.

Thump.

You covered your ears and could feel the tears in your eyes despite them being clenched shut. It was overwhelming your senses. Your heartbeat the fastest of them all. You could hear the blood rushing through your head and body.

The fly was buzzing across the hall, the sound of the lightbulb as the energy zapped rapidly, every footstep, every scratch, every heartbeat, every breath, every-

"Hey," a panicked voice stood out in the sea of noises. You tried to calm down, not wanting any attention, but you couldn't steady your breathing; it was out of control.

Scratch.

The feeling of hands on your shoulders shook you into a panicked state, the friction against your clothing onto your skin felt suffocating.

Thump

"Hey, it's ok," It was the voice again. Attempting to steady your breathing, you listened the best you could, "I know it's hard, and it feels like everything is overwhelming, but I need you to focus on my voice."

You clenched your fists, trying your hardest to focus.

Tick, tick, tick…

"Please," they said, pulling your hands out of their clenched form and holding them lightly. "Focus on me, find my heartbeat." They brought your hand to their chest.

The second your hand touched their chest, you felt everything inside: heartbeat, breathing, the blood running through their veins, everything. You couldn't do it. The best you could do was shake your head. You couldn't; there were too many people, too many sounds, too many everything.

"You need to focus, their voice grew desperate. "You can feel everything, and I know, but your hand is directly on my heart, find it and focus, it'll help."

In all of the chaos going on inside your head, you directed all your energy to your palm through your pounding headache. You had to find it, to focus.

Tick, tick…

Scratch…

Buzz…

Thump,

Thump, There.

The fight to slow down your breathing became easier every time you sensed a beat.

"That's it," you then recognized the voice as Peter. "Stay focused on my heart."

You would never tell him, but his voice calmed you down more than the sound of his heart ever could.

"Breathe with me." He whispered, “You can open your eyes, the lights are off.”

The thought of opening your eyes terrified you, to go through the same thing again. You shook your head slowly in protest, trying to keep the composure you fought so hard to gain.

You felt a hand cup over your eyes, "Start small."

Your eyelashes brushed Peter's palm as you opened your eyes, through a small crack of his fingers, you could see his brown eyes full of concern. How did he know what to do? So many questions filled your brain as you became more aware of your surroundings. You were in a dark and empty classroom.

Peter noticed that you were trying to look around, "I'm gonna bring my hand down."

You nodded, and he took it down slowly. His eyes met yours in the dark. His hair was slightly messed up. His facial expression was twisted into something you've never seen on him, before you could figure it out, he looked down.

You almost laughed at the possibility of someone walking in and seeing this; they would definitely get the wrong idea. But your smirk fell once you followed Peter's gaze to his now bloody shirt.

You looked down at your palms, and blood flowed out of indents made by your nails. You didn't notice that you were crying until he brought his hand to your face to wipe your cheek. Looked up again, his face read all of the unanswered questions you had. "Later," he dismissed it. "The nurse is out so let's get this clean,” he touched your palm softly.

You didn't like the way his voice spoke to you like you were about to break. You hated seeming vulnerable, but you do owe it to Peter for helping you. You didn't know what you would have done without him. You appreciated it so you said nothing while he pulled out a small kit from his backpack, unraveling the supplies.

"Breathe for this," he warned. The cleansing wipe was centimeters away from your skin, and you nodded.

It stung, but you were too exhausted to show it, the earlier events taking its toll on you. Peter cleaned the small indents out like he had years of experience doing this with unusual gentleness.

When he was done, it seemed like he wanted to say something. You nodded your head to encourage him to speak up.

"Do you- Do you want to talk about it?"

You eyes snapped to his, “No," but he gave you an unconvinced look back. You took a deep breath and looked at him, your voice trembling slightly, "Yeah, I think I do. It's just… I don't even know where to start. It's like everything suddenly became too much, and I couldn't handle it."

Peter nodded, understanding, and put away the first aid kit. He sat down beside you, and you felt a sense of comfort in his presence. "It's something I went through a while ago," he admitted gently. That sentence left you with so many questions, but you decided against asking them at the moment. As you sat there in the dimly lit classroom, you couldn't help but feel more than grateful for Peter. He had a way of calming you down and making you feel safe that didn't make any sense. The episode had left you drained, but you knew you weren't alone, and you didn't have to face it all by yourself.

A comfortable silence washed over the dark room as you leaned on his shoulder, falling into a comfortable sleep.

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unpublishediary · 6 months

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What Was I Made For? (peter parker)

INTEREST₊˚ Peter Parker X Reader (showing signs of depression)

SYNOPSIS‧₊˚ Based on the lyrics from, What Was I Made For by Billie Eilish. Reader going through a seasonal depressive episode and Peter helping her through it.

WARNINGS(S)‧₊˚ depression

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I used to float, now I just fall down

I used to know but I'm not sure now

What I was made for, what was I made for?

The way the snow moved through the air mocked you with its playfulness, it was the first time you felt nothing as you watched the first snowfall from your bedroom window.

When you watched the specs of white land over New York, you thought about how easy life seemed before. The smiles that came automatically became forced, things you couldn’t wait for turned into the things you dragged yourself out of bed to go to.

Your unorganized thoughts pushed you away from your family, your friends, even your best friend who also was your boyfriend, Peter. The increased time you spend away from him also increased occurring thoughts that played on repeat:

unwanted, useless, unworthy.

Those words consumed you the way the cold consumed New York during the winter. Your skin being a witness the moment you stepped outside to meet Peter.

Takin' a drive, I was an ideal

Looked so alive, turns out I'm not real

Just something you paid for

What was I made for?

Peter texted you shortly after, he wanted to meet up because there was something he wanted to talk about.

When you eyes met his at the park, the snow around him made him beautiful. Seeing him sparked something so little but addicting inside of you, reminding you why you fell in love with him in the first place. Maybe your frown could’ve been a smile if your thoughts didn’t remind you of what was coming next.

unwanted, useless, unworthy.

Your thoughts didn’t stop. You were unwanted by Peter, useless in the relationship, unworthy of being with him, and apparently he figured that out too.

Peter sensed your sudden change in emotion the second it happened. He had been with you long enough to know that winter was a hard time for you and he wanted to talk with you in person. He surprised you halfway through your walk to his apartment. You two spent the rest of the walk engulfed in a comfortable silence.

When the both of you got there it was silent, he made you hot chocolate knowing you loved the sweet taste especially when it was colder outside.

He handed you a mug and as he went to grab his own, the steam of the drink traveled to your nose. The smell that should’ve been satisfying, made you feel nothing.

'Cause I, I don't know how to feel

But I wanna try

I don't know how to feel but someday, I might

Someday, I might

Peter held you on the couch that night. He held you because he knew you both needed it. Knowing you were hurting was one thing, but feeling like he couldn’t help you through what you were going through was harder.

“You know you can talk to me anytime anywhere right?”

Relaxing into his arms, you replied with a muffled hum with a yawn following. You wished you could reply with more than a noise but you were so tired. Tired of the fake smiles, the “I’m fines”, the forced positivity, tired of everything. All you could do was close your eyes.

“I want you to know I’ll always there for you, no matter what I’ll always be in your corner.” Peter whispered rubbing your back.

unwanted, useless, unworthy.

It was the first time your thoughts quieted just enough for you to dose off.

When did it end? All the enjoyment

I'm sad again, don't tell my boyfriend

It's not what he's made for

What was I made for?

It was barely light outside when you woke up to Peter stroking your hair from your forehead down to your ear. When your eyes fully adjusted to the light, Peter’s met yours.

You knew him like the back of your hand, he was holding something in, and you could tell. The way he fiddled with the blanket that covered the both of you confirmed it.

“Talk to me,” he practically begged, he was so eager to understand what you were feeling. For someone who could hold his own while fighting on the street, he felt so useless in the fight that mattered most.

The look in his eyes seemed so genuine and raw that it almost convinced you that he didn’t want to cut it off with you. That he was trying, but the repetitive thoughts gave you a reality check.

unwanted, useless, unworthy.

“I— I can’t I’m sorry.”

What hurt you the most was when he nodded like he expected that answer.

'Cause I, I don't know how to feel

But I wanna try

I don't know how to feel, but someday I might

Someday I might

It took time but you eventually talked to Peter about what was going on through your head. He suggested going to someone who could provide more help, but at first you refused with the thought of being vulnerable with a stranger seeming worse.

He got what you were feeling more than anyone else, he knew you were struggling and was patient with you. He checked in with you to make sure you were eating, told you stories to keep your mind off things, and if he was lucky he made you smile.

Sometimes Peter would casually bring up therapy. His consistency didn’t go unnoticed by you, you never told him, but every time he made a valid point about how it helped him with Ben, you considered it more and more.

You dreaded your first appointment, regretting it as soon as you clicked confirm on the schedule.

Think I forgot how to be happy

Something I'm not, but something I can be

Something I wait for

Something I'm made for

From texts texts to sitting with you in silence, Peter was there for you through it all.

The healing journey wasn’t easy. Sometimes the words came crashing down like heavy hail on bare skin, but the people surrounding you provided an umbrella.

unwanted, useless, unwort—

You took Peter’s hand, stopping to take the scene in.

Nothing fully stopped, but you knew so much more. You knew there were people wanting you to get better. For you to enjoy life the way you used to.

Watching your skin glow under the bright sun that was no match for the few remaining patches of snow, Peter smiled in your direction as you eyes lingered on the flower bud that signaled spring was arriving.

Something I’m made for.

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unpublishediary · 6 months

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Cracked Phone (part one)

PAIRING‧₊˚ Peter Parker x Fem!Reader

SYNOPSIS‧₊˚ Reader experiences a loss of a loved one and has Peter to help her, just like he helped her though the loss of Ben.

WARNING(S)‧₊˚ talk of death, angst

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When Peter and y/n met it had been around Ben’s passing. At the time, Peter wasn't exactly open to inviting new people into his life. Looking back at it now, he regretted the way he treated y/n the first couple times she tried to talk to him, but she understood and was patient. He eventually let her in, and since then they’ve been closer than ever.

In the silent classroom, the piercing ring of the phone room stole both of their attention, along with half of the class.

After glancing up quickly to see the teacher make her way to the sound, y/n brushed it off and resumed her work, scribbling the answer to a problem she finished, and turned to the boy next to her.

“Pete,” she whispered to the boy sitting next to her, but he didn’t respond keeping his eyes glued to the paper which caused y/n to scoff. “Peeta bread.” She tried again, but still nothing. Petty was the last option, “Spide-“

“Y/n,” Peter whispered trying to hide his smirk, “shut up.”

She raised her eyebrows, and playfully kicked his leg with her own, “what did you get for question seven?”

He looked back to his paper, scanning question eighteen. “How are you that behind-“

“Not everyone’s as fast as you,” she whispered, “just tell me.”

“I got-“

“Anya?” A new voice joined in. She looked up and made eye contact with her teacher across the room.

Peter didn’t look up, thinking they were going to get scolded for talking again.

It reminded him of the last time she got caught talking. They made eye contact, and the next minute they were straight up dying of laughter. They both got in trouble, and he knew that if he looked up they would be kicked out of class.

“Please come here for a second.”

His plan changed when he heard the tone of his teacher's voice, he watched y/n get out of her seat and followed her beeline to the front. The teacher quickly moved out of the way, holding the phone out for her to take, then turned to the class, “everyone keep on working.”

He looked down at his paper, but he wasn’t interested in the problems anymore.

Slightly looking up, so the teacher wouldn’t see him sneaking a look towards the front, he saw y/n take the phone, muttering something along the lines of a thank you.

The teacher moved to the other side of her desk, and started writing on a small pink slip. Why would she need a pass?

While the teacher was distracted, he tried to grab Anya’s attention by staring at her. It was the best he could do at that point and that’s when he saw it. The expression on her face changed completely. It was like she went through many emotions at once.

Shaking her head, she set the phone down, not even bothering to put it back on the stand. Then rushed out the room. Something was definitely wrong.

Peter hesitantly got out of his seat to follow her. He was expecting his teacher to tell him to sit down, but it didn’t come. Pushing open the door, he looked to the left to see y/n with her back facing him. Slowly making his way towards her, he saw her pulling out her phone a little too quickly. It fell out of her hands and onto the ground.

Peter, who already made his way to her, picked it up. “What’s going on?”

The only response he got was her taking the phone out his hands, and turning around so her back was facing him once again, her breathing turned shallow.

“Y/n?” He questioned, walking around so he could see her face again. She dialed a number and put the phone up to her ear. Waiting for someone to pick up, her eyes were glued to the floor.

“Who are you calling?” no response again.

Soon after, he heard a familiar voicemail, she was calling her mom. He waited to see what she did next. And what she did was call her mom again,

then again,

then again.

She was on her fourth call when Peter spoke up, “we could try her work phone? I don’t think she’ll answer her mobile.” he didn’t expect a reply, but attempted to speak to her anyway.

“No.” She said while shaking her head, tears threatening to drop, “She is this time.”

She turned out to be wrong, but it didn’t stop her from calling again. Every unanswered call raised her frustration and if Peter knew anything, he knew something was definitely wrong.

“Y/n-“

“Shit” Her phone dropped out of her hands again. She made no attempt to even look at it again and started to walk to her locker.

“Please calm down-“

“How the hell am I supposed to calm down Peter!” He didn’t reply due to him being in slight shock about the tone she used. “My mom— my mom she—” Her voice cracked into silence.

She didn’t attempt to say anything anymore, if there was anything y/n hated, it was crying. Especially in front of others and Peter knew that.

Not wanting Peter to see, she turned around then started walking down the hall. Her destination being anywhere but where he was.

————————

Peter didn’t know what her problem was. He was tempted to follow her knowing that she most likely would be leaving the school, but he already had detention two times that week. Silently cringing at the thought of how May reacted the first time, he decided against leaving school. Luckily, science was their last period of the day.

Shortly after the bell rang, he met up with Ned. They decided to get something to eat. On the way, he updated his other best friend about what went down.

After answering more questions than he was comfortable with, Ned told him not to worry about it. It didn't help him though, his mind was entirely focused on what happened. It couldn’t have been that bad. He knew y/n was known for being pretty dramatic.

“Dude, are you still thinking about this?” Ned spoke up as he held the door. “She’s just a girl who is very hard to understand, it will pass.” Peter wasn’t convinced. He turned to Ned, who was currently looking at the menu.

“You don’t get it. She looked very freaked out.”

“Listen, she’s our best friend. She would’ve called us by now if anything happe-“ Ned stopped at the sight of Peter holding up Anya’s slightly cracked phone, “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Ned wasn’t trying to dismiss the situation because he didn’t care about Y/n. He didn’t want to believe that something bad happened.

“Let’s just go to my house, and talk to her.”

Ned nodded his head, “Alright.”

———————

Shortly after getting their sandwiches, they decided to eat at Peter's house. Ned had to use the bathroom so Peter was waiting for him with his back against the wall.

Nothing around the store spiked his interest, until the tiny tv caught his attention.

“Breaking news. Two hours ago, the people of New York noticed smoke coming out of the well known Trident Lab building. We have been informed of a lab accident, resulting in four casualties. Carnia L/N, A female scientist known for her work around the world, being one of them. We are waiting on more information from our officials-“

“No.” Peter didn’t notice that Ned came out of the bathroom, he couldn’t believe it. He just saw the woman this morning. She was alive and well, and now she’s gone. Y/n must be- Y/n.

He turned to Ned, “we need to go right now.”

Part two coming soon.

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