All Of Me (Peter Parker x Reader)

Chapter 4

Red hot blood coruscated off of the floor, the body of a woman lying dead on the floor with a hole in the center of her forehead being the source of the blood. It trailed down her head in red lines, the warm liquid pouring and curving around her facial features. It trickled down her face, soaking into her open eyes. It made it look as if she was crying bloody tears before making its way to her nose, where it finally dropped to the concrete, making the puddle grow ever so slightly.

(Y/n) watched as a janitor looked at the horrific view in utter terror. Her observant (e/c) eyes saw their pale faces twist in disgust, the lump in their throat bobbing as they tried to keep the bile inside them stay there. It'd only be another mess for them to clean as they held a death grip on the mop in their heads.

I guess that's how you know they're new here, she thought as she stood off to the side. Her back leaned against the wall, her blank face facing the janitor as they cleaned up her mess. Her eyes followed the movements of the mop head, becoming pink from blood.

"Clean this up by the time I come back here or else someone will be cleaning up two bodies," she told them. The (h/c) haired girl turned around without so much as a glance at their face. She walked down the hall in long strides, sleep begging at her eyes to close. But as heavenly as sleep sounded, food sounded equally as great to her stomach.

The walk to the mess hall took no time at all, and (y/n) could already smell the scent of bread in the near distance, causing her feet to move just a little faster until she finally reached the familiar double doors to the mess hall.

Like most of the base, it wasn't grand, nor top of the line. In (y/n)'s opinion, it looked more like a glorified soup kitchen. Industrial ceiling lights hung lowly from the ceiling on thick cords that gave off a white light that shined against the gray walls, a speaker and a clock placed juxtapose to each other above the door. The ceiling itself was missing a few tiles here and there, acting as air vents. The ground was tiled with gritted stone covered in dirt and grime as the result of not having a decent cleaning since the room was first built in the fifties. The seating arrangements were nothing more than metal picnic tables that lightly groaned whenever someone sat in them. The kitchen was separated from the eating area by a wall with a counter allowing food to be directly picked up from the kitchen. The kitchen itself was old and outdated, but they never bothered to replace anything. It still worked after all.

Breathing in the scent of the food that was coming from the kitchen, (y/n) opened the doors and walked inside the mess hall. The room was filled with agents on their breaks, or just to chat with their colleagues. Conversations filled the room, not allowing silence to take over for a second.

She walked across the room, making a B-line for the meal drop off counter. Looking up at the menu above it, she read through the items until she came across the best thing in the whole freaking world.

"Plate of (f/f), now," she exacted.

The old lady behind the counter glared at her as she went back to the kitchen, watching as she made her way through the room and slapped items on a tray left and right. But it wasn't long before she made her way back to the counter, dropping the plate on the surface. (Y/n) watched as specks of different foods moved from their spots on the tray. The only thing that didn't move was a bag of milk in the upper corner.

You know things are bad when they replace cartoned milk with bagged milk, she bitterly thought as her eyes glanced over her now (though it wasn't that clean before) dirty tray. Her heart flipped at the sight of things spilling over, moving from where they were supposed to be on the tray.

"Don't drop it next time, hussy,"

"Shut up, bitch,"

(Y/n) gave one last glare before taking her tray and walking off towards the tables to find a place to sit.