"Ned, it's not a big deal!" Peter tried, still pleading.

"Peter, no!" Ned repeated himself for what felt like the fifth time.

"You don't even have to do anything, you can just hold the knife and I'll jump into it," Peter suggested.

"Peter, I won't stab you!" Ned told sternly.

"But it'll heal! The mental trauma from the field trip will be eternal, Ned. Do you really want to do that to me? Your best friend?" Peter asked, holding a hand over his chest in clear betrayal. 

"Peter!" 

"Fine," Peter reluctantly agreed, rolling his eyes unhappily. 

"God, sir, don't you know that stealing is rude?" Peter asked the man, landing behind the robber in the alley in his typical superhero position.

"I ain't stealing shit, kid," the guy replied in a mutter, going through his backpack, his back still turned to Peter.

"Well, you say that, but you see, you've been on the news for robbing grocery stores pretty much daily, and I just think it'd be really neat if you would stop," Peter explained to him; "Like, you haven't really done anything, I don't have to stop you yet." 

"I'd like to see you fucking try," the guy said sinisterly before turning around, a smirk on his lips and a gun in his hand. 

"Is that a gun?!" Peter exclaimed surprised.

"Yeah, so don't try anything," the robber warned, pointing it at him.

"Oh my god, this is so great!" Peter realised, practically jumping out of excitement; "Can you please shoot me?" 

"What?" 

"Just a little! In the leg, maybe," he suggested, lifting his leg to make it easier to aim at.

"Man, you're crazy," the robber stated, passing him while remaining as far as away as possible.

"Sir, please! Just once or twice!" Peter pleaded, stepping after him.

"Get away from me, freak!" The guy warned, raising his gun again.

"Just shoot me!" Peter repeated.

"You're fucking crazy, man!" the robber realised, beginning to run away, Peter quickly following.

"Please, sir! Just a little!" 

The guy kept running, unresponsive to Peter's pleads.

"At least hand over the gun so I can do it myself!" Peter yelled after him when he gave up the chase. He felt pretty certain he wouldn't be robbing anything anytime soon, and, well, if he did, Peter wasn't injured (yet) and could catch him.

"Mr. Loki?" Peter asked politely as he entered the living room.

"Yes?" Loki drawled, not bothering to look up from his book.

"Do you remember that time you poisoned Thor?" he asked softly.

"That was last week," Loki pointed out.

"Yes, well, I was wondering if you could maybe poison me this time," Peter suggested, smiling innocently at the good, who finally looked up.

"You'd like to be poisoned?" he repeated slowly.

"Well, not so I would die, just maybe so I'd be in a coma or something," Peter explained; "You see, we have this field trip tomorrow-" 

"I will not poison you," Loki decided. 

"But-" 

"No. I do not feel like being murdered by any of the overly protective avengers, so I will not poison you," Loki said, standing up and leaving. 

"Natasha?" Peter asked, entering the gym.

"Hey," she greeted between two punches directed at the punching bag.

"Do you wanna train?" he asked. Natasha looked away from her training, running a hand over her forehead.

"Sure. Weapons or hand-to-hand?" she asked, taking off her boxing gloves.

"Weapons. Knives, specifically," he instructed.

"Alright," she agreed, not thinking anything of his request. She grabbed a few knives and threw one of them to him.

"Ready?" she asked, receiving only a nod in reply. 

The battle began quickly, both of them holding up quite well. That is, until Peter dropped his knife.

"Ohhhhh nooooo," he said softly, continuing to fight with his hand, not at all seeming to fall behind in spite of his zero knives and Natasha's two. As Natasha eventually directed a knife at his abdomen, Peter stopped fighting, resulting in Natasha freezing as well.

"You okay?" she asked with raised eyebrows.

"Yes. Continue," Peter said, not moving a muscle. Natasha shook his head at his oddness but began moving again slowly, waiting for Peter to make a move. She stopped and looked at him.

"What are you doing, Pete?" 

"I'm not doing anything, I just wanna see how this move goes!" he claimed.

"It goes knife into the stomach, then death," Natasha explained confusedly.

"Ah, but not if you're spiderman!" Peter retorted; "Then it would just be knife into the stomach, then a sick-day." 

"Are you trying to get me to stab you?!" Natasha realised, tossing the knives on the floor.

"What? No! I just wanna see the, the move!" Peter told loudly.

"You're trying to get out of the field trip tomorrow!" she realised.

"C'mon Nat! It's just a little stabby-stab! You love that!" Peter reminded her.

"I'm not going to stab you, Peter!" she exclaimed seriously.

"It doesn't have to be deep! Maybe just a little cut!" 

"Peter, no!" 

"Cliiint?" Peter asked nervously, entering the kitchen where Clint was eating an apple.

"What's up, kid?" he asked casually, leaning against the kitchen table.

"I was wondering if you, if you had time, could maybe show me how to shoot with a bow?" Peter asked politely.

"Sure! I was heading down to the gym anyway, you can tag along," he replied kindly. 

"Okay, so what you do is you place your hand here on the bow riser for maximum stability, and then place your feet like this," Clint began explaining. 

"That's great," Peter replied, seemingly not paying much attention; "Maybe I could see you shoot a few arrows?" 

Clint shrugged, but brought the bow up and effortlessly fired an arrow which, of course, hit the round board placed on the wall in the middle. 

Peter took an awkward step closer to the circle they used as the target.

"I just wanted to be able to see it better," he claimed, taking a step immediately as Clint fired the next arrow.

As Clint lifted the bow again, Peter stepped in front of the target. Clint waited for him to move, but when he didn't he took his bow down.

"Pete, you're kinda in the way," he said, trying not to sound mean.

"No no, this is great, go ahead," Peter told, spreading his arms slightly.

"Peter if I shoot now I'm gonna hit you," Clint pointed out.

"Yeah I know, go ahead," Peter repeated, closing his eyes and waiting.

"Peter!" Clint said sternly, making Peter open first one eye, then both; "I'm not going to shoot you?" 

"Awh," Peter exclaimed sadly.

"Why do you want me to shoot you?! Wait-" Clint rolled his eyes as he remembered; "You have that field trip tomorrow." 

"Why won't you shoot me, Clint?" Peter asked sadly. 

"Oh, I don't know, Peter, why wouldn't I want to shoot you?!" Clint asked irritated. 

"Fine," Peter decided, crossing his arms unhappily. 

"Pete, get away from the target or I'll end up shooting you," Clint complained with another eye roll.

"You will?" Peter asked happily. 

"No! That's just something you say, I will not shoot you, Peter!" 

"Hey, Bruce?" Peter asked as he closed the door to the lab behind him.

"Hey, Pete," Bruce replied, entirely caught up in whatever he was doing.

"I just wanted to say that, I... Think you're mean," Peter told him; "And... And stupid." 

"What?" Bruce asked confused. Peter looked around the lab and grabbed a screw and tossing it gently at Bruce. Even so, it hit him on his arm (however softly) and Bruce looked at it before looking at Peter.

"What... was that?" he asked. 

"I dropped it," Peter said quickly, having prepared that excuse beforehand. 

"I - what?" 

Peter looked around the lab and grabbed a screwdriver.

He took aim and moved his arm to make a soft underhand throw of it.

"Pete, don't throw that screwdriver after me," Bruce told strictly, as if talking to a child; "Why are you being like this?" 

"Annoying, you mean?" he asked; "is it making you... You know...?" 

"Angry?" Bruce asked confusedly, making Peter nod enthusiastically.

"No, I'm not angry, I'm just confused," he told honestly.

"What if I told you I think that you... Are... A... Fucknugget?" 

"No?"

"A fuckshit?" 

"What even is that?" 

"Bitchtit? Cheesehead? Stupid octopusbutt?" 

"Peter!" Bruce exclaimed, stopping his attempts; "Are you trying to make me Hulk out?" 

"....No," Peter replied slowly. 

"Good, because I'm not going to!" Bruce said sternly.

"Awh poop, man," Peter said with a sigh.

I just noticed an old A/N where I told you about being a bit sad about my birthday when I turned 18 and thought I'd let you all know since you were so sweet and caring:

I turn 20 next week, and while my life is not perfect, I'm okay. When I started writing on Wattpad I was past the worst years of my depression, but I was still unable to leave the house for things like school, I self-harmed daily and cried myself to sleep because of a difficult family situation and less than supportive people around me.

While I hope this doesn't sound too cheesy, reading through comments on this story always helped me. If I wrote in a note that I was feeling insecure or unwell at all, I'd get so many messages and comments supporting me and telling me of my worth. You can't rely on validation on the internet, and I like to think I've reached a point where I don't need it as I did then, but at that time, I did need it. It was exactly what I needed, and you all helped me get it.

I live in my own apartment now, I decided to do an extra year of college because I've been sick for such a long period, but I'll be graduating next year. I have a boyfriend who is very very sweet and very supportive of my mental health, and while I greatly appreciate all he has done for me and do for me, I am not dependant on him nor is he on me, and that's surprisingly nice. I have bad days, but I haven't self-harmed in over a year, and it's been almost two years since I've needed stitches or anything of the sort. Bad thoughts still hit me, I still have days where suicide seems the best option and I always have ice cubes in the freezer for when the urge to self-harm becomes too big, but I really am okay. Apparently, all those people who said 'it'll get better' were right.

I hope you all are doing well, and if not, please know that you can message me or comment. You don't have to, there is no pressure, but my inbox is always always always open. I will not judge you, I will not pressure you, and whether you just need someone to rant to or maybe a friend to distract you, I'll be there. Don't let shyness or nervousness keep you from messaging, because I promise you, you will not bother or disturb me. You're not being needy or pushy at all. If I could, I'd invite you all over to my place for coffee or tea xx