When you came

More than I can take

This isn't something I can take. Believe me, darling, you can take more than you say.

Peter's POV-

I had just stepped inside my apartment after a long conversation I had had with Mr.Delmar, when the 'ting' of my phone's notification went off. I opned up my messages and couldn't help a smile when I saw (y/n)'s name appear on the top. Clicking open the message, I read it quickly, the smile vanishing in an instant.

I re-read it, just to make sure that I had read it correct and that this wasn't a game my mind was playing with me.

Peter, I need your help ASAP. It's my uncle. Please call an ambulance on your way here.

(y/n).

I couldn't believe my eyes, my hands moving fervently to ask her about it all. But then I thought better of it, sensing it as an urgency, and instead typed out:

Sure. On my way, calling 9-1-1. I'll be there soon. Take care of yourself, please.

Peter.

She responded almost immediately, as if she had her eyes glued to the three dots on her screen, hoping for a reply.

I will.

That was all I needed, before I hastily pulled my shirt over my head and threw it on the couch, my pants following soon after. Zipping up my Spiderman suit, I pulled the mask on, sprinting to my room. Unlatching my window, I jumped on the seal for leverage and was sprinting out of it in no time.

Don't worry (y/n), Spiderman is on his way!

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

(Still in Peter's POV)

I hopped up (y/n)'s front porch and started, seeing the front door halfway open. I slowly pushed it further, cringing at the occasional sound the hinges made. I let out a sigh of relief the minute it was fully opened, entering with cautious steps. My Spidey senses were quick to catch a heartbeat and I followed my instincts to the kitchen.

I froze in my steps when I was met with Liam's limp frame that lay on the ground, a pillow tucked under his head. (y/n) must have put it there, but I couldn't find her anywhere. Maybe she was upstairs, getting a first aid kit?

My instincts got the better of my mind once again and I was sprinting up the stairs in hopes of finding her safe and sound. The minute my feet hit the last stair, I was paralysed to my spot, again. The scene before me was an unexpected surprise, one that I couldn't fathom to dream of.

Mr. Stark was standing above an unconscious (y/n). His face was badly bruised, hands fisted into balls. His eyes found mine, a mixture of anger and guilt flooding in his pupils. We didn't say a word to each other, standing in our position, faces contorted in pain. It was only after a minute of a wordless conversation, did I move to check on (y/n).

 I knelt beside her, scanning her face for any cuts or bruises. Luckily there were none, except for a little slit on her lip, blood running down the side of her face.

I looked up at Mr. Stark, who just stood there watching me examine the girl. 

"What happened?" My voice came out deep and throaty, much to my dismay. I had never been so straightforward or demanding in front of Tony Stark, but this was about (y/n) and I had to know what had caused this mess.

"It was Quentin. He wanted something her uncle had that, supposedly, belonged to him. I was chasing after him, trying to make sure he didn't hurt anyone. But by the time I got here, her uncle was badly beaten up. I ran upstairs in hope of catching him, but then he overpowered me."