Peter Parker One Shots

I Just Want Control

So this is gonna be kinda dark because sometimes, I need to write a vent fic where I basically kill the characters physically and emotionally, so yay! Flash is a dick in this one. Do not read if you are triggered by eating disorders, weight comments, incredibly inaccurate law system term thingies, animal abuse, in general abuse (rip May), and treatment for eating disorders/their effects on patients who may not want to be treated. PLEASE heed the trigger warnings! Please! I made the mistake of ignoring a trigger warning once and it was not an experience that I enjoyed! Please! Trigger warnings! Thank you!

I have an issue I need to address: requests. I have a shit load of them lol, so for the moment I will not be taking requests until I finish the ones I do have.  But eventually I'll take requests again.

Okay, story tiiiiiiiime!
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Peter had never had control over his life.

He had no control of his parents dying and never coming back from their trip. He had no control over where he was sent, and spent a year in the foster system before May and Ben had found him. He had no control over Ben's death, no control over the drinking habit that May took up after, no control over the slurred words that she would aim like bullets at Peter, striking him in the chest. No control over the beer poured on his head so May could laugh at him as he wrinkled his nose against the smell. He had no control over the spider that had bit him, no control over his own body over the days it took to become a radioactive mutant.

Peter was tired of no control. So, so tired. He grasped any and all opportunities of control he could get; when he slept, how long he slept, what he worked on, his perfect grades, GPA, and attendance, and food.

Peter hated food. It seemed like there was always too much for him, piled on counters when his parents died, snuck to him under the table by the older kids in the orphanage with him, stocked high on the counters as a pathetic ‘I’m sorry’ when Ben died. And food was so difficult. If you ate too much, health problems ensued. If you ate too little, health problems ensued. Not to mention the way your body changed depending on how much or how little you ate. Food was a problem, in Peter's mind. And Peter was an expert at solving problems in his own, controlled way.

In this case, the solution was to just not eat.

Well, not give up food entirely. No, that would be stupid, and just make the few people who actually cared about him nervous. Just eat maybe three times a week, or once every week, or until your body screams for it and you wake up on the grease-and-booze soaked floor seeing spots.

In Peter’s mind, food was not an everyday necessity, super metabolism or not. Unfortunately, that logic had some downsides.

For one, Peter was always cold. Sweaters and hoodies made up his closet, anything he could pull over his hands and cuddle himself with. Of course, long sleeves in warm weather was a little hard to explain, but Peter chalked it up to his apartment always being cold. The excuse worked because Peter had a reputation for spending weeks in his apartment and not talking to anyone, giving him pletny of time to hang out with the malfunctioning air conditioner. People sucked, in Peter’s opinion, and people did nothing to prove him wrong, so he stayed in his apartment.

Another drawback were the dizzy spells, for sure. That and the nausea. Well, it would be a drawback to most people, but Peter loved it. He didn’t know why. Maybe it was the immense happiness that filled him when he realized that the pains came from his control. Because control was what it was really about. Not body image, not coping with the trauma. Just control. Right?