Peter Parker oneshots - Spiderson & Irondad

Tired

Peter felt empty.

A shell that could shatter any moment, if too much pressure was built on it.

He was beyond tired. He felt as if he had cried for hours, his eye lids heavy. A pit sat in his stomach, Oy dread building up.

He didn't do anything against it. What was the point trying?

He had enough.

Enough being happy go lucky, enough being comedic relief, enough acting like a child. He just wanted out. If he was honest, he didn't even know why, or what out meant to him. He just knew he wanted it.

He started growing quieter over time, enclosed, and built walls.

He sat in bed, looking up at the covered glow-in-the-dark-stars ceiling. Music played quietly in the background, hands folded over his stomach. He rolled his head to the side and sighed.

"Why am I like this..." he mumbled and rolled on his side, curling himself up to a ball. He stared at his hand, his mind empty.

Something glinted from behind it. He focused on the object and saw the razor. He had forgotten to put it away the night before. He got up and put it away in one of his drawers. As he did that, his eyes wandered down to his arms, thin scars adorning his wrists, going all the way up to his forearm. They weren't deep. He didn't want to hit a major artery or vein. All he wanted was to draw blood and watch the thick deep red liquid contrast his pale skin.

Bored out of his mind, he grabbed his suit and left the building, not bothering to inform his family where he was heading. FRIDAY would probably tell them he had left.

He forgot to turn off the music, but he was sure it would stop eventually.

He gave it no second thought as he swung from building to building.

In front of one of the convenience stores, he perched himself on one of the buildings, stretching his legs. He bent down and reached towards the ground, a yawn escaping his lips.

Coming back up and stretching his arms behind his head, he jumped off the roof anf walked into the convenience store. He paid no attention to the gaping cashier abs made a beeline to the drinks. He grabbed a cola and a packet of gummies, paid, and left once more.

Midst-bite in a gummy bear, he felt his spider sense alerting him.

He sighed and placed his food down, then swing towards whatever the problem was.

Right around the corner we're some robbers trying to rob a bank.

Peter, not wanting to prolong the fight, decided to keep his snarky remarks and catch them by surprise, we then to the ceiling and call the cops.

Once that was done, he returned to his food and headed back to the tower.

On his way, however, he was met with another robbery, this time at a museum. An art museum.

He groaned and landed. "Don't they have anything better to do?" He mumbled, annoyed.

But there weren't just three, like in the bank. No, there were ten men.

"Oi! Didn't your moms teach you to not stay out past curfew?" He asked, gaining their attention.

"Get him!" A large bulky guy- which he guessed was their boss- yelled, pointing a thick finger at the masked hero. Two of them charged, which he easily took out with assign kick and a punch.

Three of the men pointed guns.

Peter's eyes widened slightly. Shit. He should've been a bit more careful in how he handled the situation.