sense of comfort- peter parker

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【welcome to a yet another cringey ass oneshot inspired by my daily mood! haha we love crying then posing in front of the mirror afterwards】








"Hi, Y/N."

"Hey, Pete," you looked up from the book you were currently reading to make eye contact with Peter, and were rather surprised when you saw the slightly serious expression on his face that he wore. "What's up? Are you being called in for something?"

"Oh, yeah..." he paused for a moment, "yeah, I am. Director Fury and the team need us in the meeting room for a sec."

"Wait, both of us? Why?" you questioned.

"I don't know," he shrugged. "Whatever it is, it's probably important, though. He sounded pretty serious when he called me over so come on, hurry!"

He beckoned you to follow him and you quickly jogged besides him down the hallways to the meeting room, pushing the doors open.

Fury was standing there in front of the giant screen while the others were sitting around at the glass table, and you were more surprised when you found that Steve and Sam were all suited up and standing as well---the reason behind which you still didn't know, however. He motioned for both of you to sit down before continuing what he was saying earlier.

He began explaining the directions for the mission---how you, Peter, Sam, and Steve would have to fly out in several hours' time to New Orleans and track and take down (yet another) HYDRA organization attempting to work undercover.

You zoned out for the most part, but still took some notes so you wouldn't completely forget about everything.

Taking a long sip of water to stay awake, you finally tuned back in once Fury started speaking again, hearing something about the meeting coming to an end.

"Stark, Romanoff, the rest of you, make sure to keep tabs on their locations from here as well and have some form of communication on you at all times. Now, if anyone doesn't have any other questions or things to say, this meeting is now dismissed."

With that, he left the room, leaving the rest of you guys to discuss the mission amongst yourselves.

You nervously chewed on your fingernails as you listened to Steve go over individual directions with Sam and Peter, hoping that you weren't going to screw everything up and end up in getting a knife buried in your thigh like the last mission you'd gone on. It took several weeks to heal.

"You got that, Y/N?" Peter repeated, "you and I are retrieving the data files."

"Yeah, got it," you nodded, speaking quietly with barely any emotion to your tone. "Got it."

He looked at you strangely for a moment and wondered what had gotten into you, then turned back to talk to the others.

...

All too soon, it was time for you to suit up and get ready. You zipped up your suit and lazily dragged a brush through your messy hair as you watched your reflection in the mirror, then tied it up into a high ponytail. It was hard not to cringe at your appearance---your eyes were red and bloodshot, as if you hadn't slept in ages and they were heavily lined with dark circles that only seemed to make you look more like the insominac you already were.

Silently you made your way out to where the Quinjet was waiting and boarded without another word, slumping down in your seat and closing your eyes as the others prepared for takeoff, trying to ignore the throbbing sensation in your head that felt as if you were being split into two.

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