Spider-Man oneshots

paper cut

Peter's day was going unusually well: he actually arrived to school on time, was bullied very little throughout the day and aced a chemistry test.

All in all, a good day.
Now, things like this don't last long for poor Peter, and he knew it.

That's why, when he got a tiny paper cut and the whole fourth wall came crushing down, he wasn't surprised in the slightest.

The situation went like this:

Peter was taking notes while the teacher spoke when he run out of space and took out a new sheet of paper. While doing so, he scratched his forefinger a bit, making a shallow and short cut. The fans, however, didn't interpret it that way.

"PPPS ASSEMBLE!" a brunette cried as the fourth wall became dust. Dozens of other girls, boys and non-binary people started arriving a second after those words left her mouth. Moments later, they were hundreds. Then, thousands.

"Is our baby ok?"

"What happened to him?"

"Tell me he isn't hurt."

"Where do you need us?"

"Peter? Where's Peter? Is he alright?"

Voices raised as everyone started asking questions in concern over Peter. Their voices juxtaposed until all they said became unrecognizable.

"Guys..." Peter tried uselessly. Not one person noticed him. "Guys..." he attempted again, with a higher voice volume. Still no results.

Peter decided he had had enough. Tiredly, he stepped on top of his desk, took a deep breath and shouted as loud as he could until his lungs burnt. The room was left so silent you could hear a pin drop.

"I. Am. Fine." he said slowly to make his point clear.

"You sure, darling?" a random dude asked, worried.

"Yeah, it was just a little paper cut, it's already healed." At the unsure faces of the crowd, Peter hurried to hold up said finger to show them before they started shouting over each other again. "See? I'm fine, I swear."

A girl eyed him suspiciously with narrowed eyes. "You could drop from the sky in a burning plane and you wouldn't ask for help. How are we supposed to believe you aren't actually hurt?" Murmurs of agreement resonated through the classroom and whatever was behind the destroyed wall.

"When were you last stabbed?" a girl asked in concern and slight anger towards whoever did it.

Before Peter could answer, someone else spoke. "And when was the last time you were shot?"

"I love you, Peter!" a random voice yelled in between the questions. Everyone ignored them.

"When was the last time you ate?"

"And slept?"

Whispers could be heard as the fans fussed over him.

"If you ask one more thing I swear to god-" Peter started.

"Just tell us if you're alright!" the brunette from the beginning said.

"I am, but if you don't leave immediately I'll avoid meals and naps to do you know what," he said stubbornly, referring to patrols. He knew the only way to get them to leave was putting himself at risk. He knew he was right when he heard a series of gasps and yelps coming from the huge crowd.

"You win this time, Peter, but I won't let anything happen to you while I am the writer." The brunette turned around and started shouting commands left and right to the rest.

As the unknown people worked to rebuild the fourth wall with scotch tape and school glue, Peter got down from his desk and sat in his chair as if nothing happened at all.

The class and teacher just watched with mouths agape and wide eyes as the last brick was placed on the wall.

"So... We were talking about thermal conductivity?