Delmar's

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Weekends, in your opinion, were the best part of life in general. Nobody ever bothered you, you had no obligations-

That is, except for the obligation to feed yourself.

You usually just ate your parents' leftovers by yourself, but you wanted a little something different, tonight. Something you didn't have to microwave, or eat cold, when you didn't want the noise to alert your parents.

You decided to head over to Delmar's for dinner. The owner made some of the best sandwiches in town, and he'd just gotten the store back in order after its destruction at the hands of some sort of alien technology. Almost everyone in Queens wanted to help get him back on his feet again, you included.

Stores weren't a huge problem, for you. Sure, the idea of approaching a cashier and having them talk to you made you want to curl up into a ball, but the stress never lasted too long. Also, you knew that any random employee would have no trouble forgetting you, considering they were in no way attached to you. You made sure never to buy too much, anyway, lest you spend more than a minute with someone's attention even vaguely on you.

The shop was pretty full when you got there, bustling with customers happy to have their favorite sandwich shop back. You looked down, deducing what you could about the people around you from just their shoes. Brown, luxurious-looking business loafers. Bright pink toenails peeking out beneath the white straps of a pair of sandals. Shiny, black, close-toed heels next to small Lightning McQueen sneakers.

You sidled over to the pre-made section and grabbed your favorite sandwich. You were sure that the food was much better made fresh, right there on the spot, but you couldn't possibly-

BANG! BANG!

You were on the floor and behind a rack of chips before you'd even realized exactly what those sounds had been. You peeked out and saw a man- probably in his late twenties- wildly pointing a gun at everyone in the store. You could see his face perfectly, the stubble on his jawline, his lips curled over his teeth in a snarl. Why hadn't he worn a mask? Didn't he know there were security cameras in here?

Your gaze traveled upward to find that the two shots you'd heard had taken out the single security camera over the door. It was barely hanging on, dangling from the hinge that kept it attached to the wall.

Still, even without the camera, surely he realized there would be witnesses. Unless he wasn't planning on leaving any witnesses. Your blood ran cold.

"On the ground! All of you!" he bellowed. You practically shrank into the wall at his voice. The frightened customers shuffled onto the floor in front of him, crowding around one another.

He wore a short-sleeved shirt, revealing a splatter of injection marks along his inner left elbow, as well as a fresh bruise that accompanied them. You nearly collapsed at the realization. This guy was out of his mind, and he had a gun.

The robber threw a bag at Mr. Delmar, who stood pale-faced behind the counter. "Open the register and take out the money inside," he barked. He trained his gun on the customers, some of whom shuddered and whimpered. His eyes scoured around the room for anyone he'd missed.

Don't look at me look through me look anywhere but here don't see me look away look away look away look away...

You held your breath as his eyes passed over you, but he hadn't noticed you cowering behind the rack. You let out a silent sigh and thanked your lucky stars that your powers hadn't chosen today to falter on you.

Still on your hands and knees, you began to inch towards the back door, keeping your thoughts flowing steadily-

Eyes forward don't look at me don't look don't look don't look keep your eyes anywhere else but here...

Peter Parker x Reader Go-Away GreenWhere stories live. Discover now