#the colors where soo delicious and the building layering was so good

[quenepacrossing]

🌥️ dreaming of honeyshire by @animalcrossing-skye

[x-reader-theater]

Why’d You Do It?

Relationship: Peter Parker x Male!Reader

Summary: Life just isn’t worth living, so you decide to stop. 

Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, swearing, wanting to comit suicide, suicide, and attempted rape. Yes I know. It’s a lot of fucked up shit.

Word Count:  3,293

A/N: Look at that! Look at how fast I wrote that! I know, this is a male reader, so I’m sorry to my female readers, but a new one for you will be coming out soo, and if you just want to read it just because, good on you. There just needs to be more gender diversity in this field. And yes, I know it’s short, I just really wanted to write this fast. The next one should be coming out in a bit. If you have any ideas, please send them in!

Edit! Just realized I had my reference tags still down there! Sorry for the mistake! I use them because I forget everything I see an hear, so they’re really helpful! Sorry about that! XD

The wind was freezing, whipping around you on the cold autumn day in late October. Even your down jacket couldn’t protect you from the piercing cold air that chilled you to the bone. Looking up you see a dark sky covered in grey clouds, tinted yellow by the city lights, and the slight silver color of the moon just peeking through the thick layer. Looking out you see your city, Queens New York, the city you grew up in, the city everyone thought you were going to get out of. They were right.

Looking down, the funny feeling in your stomach didn’t dissuade you from your position on the edge of the building, your toes hanging off and your arms, holding onto the guardrail, the only things from keeping you from tumbling off. You take a deep breath in and smile, thinking of all the things that will be better once you leave.

Your parents won’t have to deal with you, meaning they won’t have to pay for another mouth to feed so they can save up money for your sister to go to college. She always was the good one. Your teachers wouldn’t have to keep you after class every day to talk about how you’re failing, and how you need to do better. Your ‘friends’ won’t have to put up with your incessant questioning and you following them around everywhere because you have nothing to do.

You leaving is the best thing for everyone. Even for you.

You sigh again and a single tear falls from your face.

One hand leaves the rail.

You hear someone behind you and grab on again, spinning around.

“Sir? Please come back over the rail. We don’t want you to get hurt!” Spider-Man says and you scoff.

“That’s the point,” you mumble and he takes a step closer. You grip the rail harder.

“Pardon?” He asks and you shake your head, more tears falling.

“What does it matter if I tell you,” you whisper, turning around again and looking at the churning water below, which before today, never looked inviting. The ack swirls were always unappealing. Today however, they were the only thing that you could rely on.

“Please sir, I don’t want anything to happen to you!” He steps closer and you close your eyes, shaking your head.

“There’s nothing you can do. The damage is done!” You yell and scoff again. “Just leave me be. I’m dying soon.”

Spider-Man takes a step back and asks, “What?” But it was too late.

Convincing yourself to take the leap before you turned back was no easy task, but you did it, making sure not to look back, opting to close your eyes instead of watching it happening.

The rush of air is adrenalizing, and you, for the first time in years, truly feel happy, as your back cracks on the edge of the pavement, your lungs are filled with water, and everything goes black, the sound of screaming all that can be heard, as you sink lower and lower to your death.

Gasping awake and coughing blood and water out of your lungs was the last thing you thought you’d be doing. You thought you were dead, gone, not part of this world anymore, but that was clearly not the case, you look around for a body, but there’s nothing. You pick up the sand and see you’re still corporeal, that sand can still slip through your fingers and the air still chills you to the bone.

Getting up, you’re a but wobbly, but find your footing on the coarse sand. You look around and see no one. The entire beach was empty, which figures, seeing as it was just as cold as the night you died. Or didn’t die. You didn’t know.

Walking up to the road you see it’s twisty and winding, but quickly connects to the main city streets. You follow it, looking around and seeing it’s a part of the city you don’t know. It’s dense, like all of New York, but it was different than Queens, that’s for sure.

You walk around, trying to find something that familiar, but there’s nothing, nothing that you remember.

Walking down an empty street you notice the sun setting, meaning you could have been dead for a day or longer. The fact you weren’t freaking out as much as you should, was frightening.

You walk through an alley, just trying to find a place, you feel someone grab your arm, and slam you into the alley walls, your vision blurring for a good moment before sharpening again.

The person leans in close and you smell the alcohol on their breath as they talk into your ear, their deep and masculine voice gravely. “Are you a delicious looking boy,” he whispers and you struggle to free yourself from his grasp, but it’s no use. He’s much stronger than you are.

He begins kissing and biting at you and you scream, but he covers your mouth with his hand as you begin sobbing. He pulls away and Tsks at you. “My my, aren’t you a screamer. You have to be quiet through, we don’t want anyone hearing so we can keep having fun!” He says and you so even more. He’s pushing on your jaw and you can hear it start to snap, then snap back into place, then snap, then snap back into place. It was a vicious cycle that seemed like never ending pain.

Suddenly he’s pulled off you, getting a trashcan lid to the face. “No that’s no way to treat someone!” They say and you look up and see Spider-Man, standing over the man, pinning him to the ground with some of his webbing. He looks up, satisfied with his work, but when he sees you, his cartoon like eyes on his mask widen, and he runs over to you, touching your arms and face.

“Hey there sport,” you pop the T and give him a two fingered, half salute, awkwardly smiling.

“We need to talk.” His voice is suddenly more serious and you look down, as if being shamed by someone.

His arm wraps around your waist and you cling onto his neck, burying your face in his neck. You hated heights. He swing around the city, looking for a building, and when you feel him touch down, you look up, into the eyes of Spider-Man. You stare at him for a moment, noticing how the mask clings to his face just slightly and how the large eyes of the mask dilate, almost as if they’re camera lenses, focusing.

You shake yourself out if and take a step back, unhooking your arms from his neck. You come to the edge of the building and Spider-Man grabs your arm. You just sit down on the edge, kicking your feet back and forth.

Spider-Man sighs but eventually joins you, looking out over where you now we’re, which was Queens.

After a few minutes of silence, he turns to you curious. “Why’d you do it?”

You scoff and wake him away, saying, “You don’t want to hear my whole life story.”

“Yes I do,” he says and you look up at him, surprised. No one’s ever wanted to hear you. Not even the people who you thought loved you.

“Well…” You begin your tale and what feels like hours later, you’re still sitting at the top of the building, watching things pass below you. Spider-Man’s just looking at you, and you can see the shock in his masked face.

“I-I didn’t know. Sorry,” he says and you scoff.

“Sorry? What could you have done? You didn’t know me. You didn’t know my family. There are thousands of other people like me, and you can’t save every single one. Not everyone can come back from the dead…” you trail off, looking at the water. Peter nods and scoots closer to you, so your legs were touching, you jump, almost falling off, but he catches you last minute.

“Sorry! Sorry!” He says and you huff, but let it go. You would still be jumpy for a while. “Is there any place I can take you? I don’t want to take you back home…”

You shake your head. “All I had was that place. They feed me sometimes and I have a place to sleep, but I don’t have anywhere else.”

He looks down, but his head snaps up again, and he says, “What if you come stay with me? I’m sure my aunt wouldn’t mind if we tell her about your situation!”

“No!” You yell. He looks takes aback. “I’m sorry for yelling, but do not tell her anything. No one can know…” you whisper the last part and he nods.

“Okay…” he thinks aloud. “What if we don’t tell her everything, just that you got kicked out of the house and need a place to live. It’s not entirely untrue, and you’ll have a place to stay, food to eat, and a place to sleep. It’s much better than you current living condition, and my aunt doesn’t need to know anything!” He seemed excited, and you smile at him.

“You do realize this means you have to tell me your secret identity. Even if you don’t it’s easy to find out if I’m living with you…” you point out and he just nods.

Pulling off his mask he says, “I know, and it’s risk I’m willing to take.”

When he pulls off his mask you can see he’s very young, probably around your age, with a cute nose, pretty brown eyes, and floppy dark hair. He was very handsome. More handsome than you thought of yourself.

You stand up, and he follows, so you’re face to face with him. You pull him in for a hug, whispering, “Thank you.” He smiles and hug you tighter.

Maybe everything isn’t as bad as you think it is.

It had been almost a week since you moved in with the Parkers. You now knew Spider-Man’s real name was Peter. Peter Parker. It had a nice ring to it, and you liked saying it.

You spent a lot of time in Peter’s room. He gave you a notebook and some pens because you mentioned you liked writing. He was constantly getting you food you said you liked but only got to eat once, he showed you how to play video games, and even showed you his favorite comic book, like Batman and Nightwing.

He did so much for you, as well as May, who cooked and cleaned and was actually nice to you, that you wanted to make something. So, at the crack of dawn, you slowly get up from Peter’s bottom bunk, opening and closing the door quickly and silently. You creep through the halls to the kitchen and open the newly stocked fridge.

Getting to work on omelets and pancakes and bacon, making sure not to make too much noise. You loved cooking. It was the only thing you could do without your parents yelling at you. It was your favorite thing because you always got so lost in it.

After about an hour, you weren’t looking at the time that closely, you hear someone stumble into the small kitchen, and turning around with a full plate of food in your hands, you smile when you see May sleepily stumble into the kitchen.

“[Y/N]?” she asks and you smile. “Did you do this?” She sits down and you place the plate I front of her, and hand her a fork. She hesitantly takes it.

“I did. I wanted to give you something for giving me so much. It’s thank you I suppose,” you say and she smiles.

“You don’t have to thank us!” She said and you smile.

“Well I did anyways, so eat up and tell me what you think!” You say and she grins, taking a bite, and moaning at the taste.

“This is amazing!” She exclaims and Peter stumbles in.

“What’s going on? What smells so good?” He asks and May takes another large bite.

“[Y/N] made us food!” She says around her food and Peter wakes up a bit.

“He did?” Peter asks and you nod, placing another plate of food down next to May, and a fork right next to it. You also put a cup of coffee for Peter and a cup of tea for May and yourself on the table. You join them with your own plate of food.

Peter takes a bite and does the same moan as May, and you smile, taking a bite of your own food. “God [Y/N], this is so fucking good!” He exclaims around his own mouthful of food. You laugh lightly, eating at your own food, and smiling.

“Language,” May says and Peter scoffs.

“But you curse all the time!” He exclaims and May looks at him.

“Yes because I’m an adult. You, young man, are only fifteen,” she says and you laugh.

He huffs out, “Fifteen and a half.” You laugh and Peter’s head snaps towards you, and he grins.

Leaning back in the kitchen chair, you smile at the small family, that was now yours.

You didn’t know when it happened, but all you knew now was you had a big crush on the guy you were living with.

You didn’t know when your stomach started to flutter whenever he smiled at you, when your cheeks flushed whenever he touched you, when you started smiling more and more because of that boy, but it happened, and you were in, deep.

Which is why you suddenly felt jealous whenever he talked about the girls at school. It was always Liz. You could never be as smart as Liz, or funny as funny as Liz, or as pretty as Liz. It was always Liz, but you wanted him too. Why couldn’t he see that? Why couldn’t he see you liked him.

YOU were the one he spent talking with late at night when you should be asleep. YOU were the one who’d patch him up whenever he got hurt. YOU were the one he’d take with him whenever he wanted you to see something. It was YOU who told him he’d find someone. YOU loved him.

So when he came home that evening with bullet wounds in his back, you couldn’t take it anymore. It started with a crash, and you running into Peter’s room.

“Shit, what happened? You ask and he shakes his head.

“Nothing, nothing,” he says, trying to get up, but he stumbles, unable to hold himself up.

You scoff and yell, “Obviously it’s not nothing! You can barely stand up!”

“Shh!” He shushes you and you roll your eyes, helping him up.

“May’s not even here. She had to go in late because they were understaffed,” you mumble, walking him to the bed. Setting him down, he groans and you order, “Take it off.”

He looks at you confused. “What?”

“Take it off, I need to assess the damage!” You say and he nods, pressing the chest piece, and the entire thing slackens, and starts to slip, but like it’s caught on something, doesn’t very far. You take his mask off him, and you peel the suit away from his body, noticing the excessive amount of blood soaking it. Soon he’s in nothing but his boxers, and you blush as you order him to lay face down on his bed, while you ran to grab the first aid kit.

Walking back into his room, quickly getting the wipes out, you gasp as you see the blood coating his back. You rush over and quickly get to work, disinfecting and cleaning what you could now observe as bullet wounds. You grab the tweezers, the best you had, and the lighter, making sure to disinfect it as best you could.

“This is going to hurt,” you say and Peter nods. You reach in with the tweezers and Peter screams. You make sure to mop up the blood with the wipes, and pull out the bullet, quickly covering it with some gauze and taping it. “One down only two more to go,” you say, running a calming hand through Peter’s hair. You see him relax a bit more, but he still doesn’t say anything.

“I need you to stay awake, okay? For me,” you say and he nods again. Not really being able to say anything. You go in for the second bullet, but even with the screaming, and Peter fighting himself to move, you get it even quicker than the last.

“You’re doing amazing. Only one last one to go,” you say and he looks at you, in a way he never has before. Like he loves you. It gives you the motivation to continue onward.

You grab his hand and he grips it tight as you patch up the second hole, and switch the first one out.

“This is going to be the most painful. I need you to be strong. You’re the mother fucking Spider-Man for fuck sake!” You say and he grins as best he can through the pain, nodding once more. You quickly dive in, digging around until you hit something, and even though the screams of pain were heartbreaking, you trudged on, pulling the bullet out and setting it on the gauze the other two were on. You tape up the last bit, switch out the first two for new ones, and collapses on the floor next to where Peter’s head was, and you look at each other for a moment, before you start laughing.

You laugh at how you did it, at how strong he was, and how amazing he looks when he laughs.

You both trail off and just look into each other’s eyes, and before you know it, you’re leaning in, and capturing Peter’s lips with your own in an awkward, side, upside-down kiss thing. But even then, it was perfect.

You finally pull away, and are met with the beautiful smile you grew to love.

“That was…” you trail off, thinking of the right word to say.

“Awesome,” Peter says and you nod, smiling. “I love you,” you say and Peter smiles even wider, if that were at all possible.

“I love you too,” he whispers as he kisses you again.

When May gets home at around two in the morning, Peter was all washed up, and you two were cuddling in his bed, kissing, both in nothing but your boxers, covered by a blanket.

You hear a door close but just continue looking at each other, like nothing mattered in life until now, which for you it did. So enraptured by each other, you don’t notice May until she exclaims, “What the fuck did you do!”

You jump up and you knock your jaw into Peter’s head, and you both rub the now sore spots while also looking guilty about something. You didn’t know what yet, but you could still feel guilty about it.

“Miss Davis said she heard screaming coming from out apartment! Wanna tell me what’s going on?” She asks and you relax and smirk, while Peter looks mortified.

“Aunt May, we were just having sex!” You say and Peter’s head snaps to you, frightened. “It’s nothing to worry about.”

May looks shocked for a moment before it goes away. “Okay, just use protection!’’

“May!” Peter yells out, but it’s already too late, and May has closed the door.

“You know I would have sex with you if you weren’t injured…” you say looking at him and his entire face goes tomato red.

“Quiet you!”