Tony (iron dad) part 1

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❗️Trigger warning❗️ Peter self harms in this part. If that triggers or offends you, skip through that bit of this fic- I will warn you beforehand. I wanted this to start really angsty and get fluffier as the fic went on. This one will be really long btw. Anyway, enjoy it.

Peter woke up that morning miserable. It was his 16th birthday, the first one without May, without his aunt, his only family, his..mother.. of a sort. His eyes welled with tears and he let out a broken sob. He smothered his face into his duvet (I'm english fite me), it muffling most of the loud crying, making only a minimal amount of noise. Not enough for anyone to wake up though. His face flushed and the fat salty tears fell down his cheeks, leaving glistening trails behind as they fell.

His duvet now wet and cold, Peter got out of bed and dragged his shivering body to the pristine bathroom attached to his room and locked the door behind him.
"Mr Parker sir, are you in need of assistance? You seem distressed."
F.R.I.D.A.Y said, her voice ringing throughout the bathroom, uncharacteristically worried for an A.I. Peter mumbled a quick yes to her before sitting on the bathtub and wiping his face down with toilet paper, the drying tears tracks sticking to his skin. He felt a strong surge of hopelessness and distraught flooding through him and with it came another wave of sobs. He reached for the compartment beneath his sink and opened it. Inside there was a collection of things such as shaving cream, not that he really needed it, razor blades, razors and a medical kit. He grabbed the razor blades, his mind stuck on one idea, and opened one of the packets.

{Trigger starts here}
He grabbed a blade and without thinking, sliced through his skin, droplets of blood welling at the cut. He stopped and watched and felt for a second before taking the blade and doing it again. And again. And again. It was addicting. The sound of flesh ripping beneath the metal, the pain of being cut open, the crimson staining his arm. He faintly registered that it was the same colour as his suit. He continued to shred his arm up, tears falling and mixing with the scorching blood, his fingers and the blade slowly beginning to gain more red the more cuts they did. The bathtub slowly being filled with the very thing that pumps through his veins.

It registered. He stopped suddenly, shocked with what he had done. He cried. Cried because of the burning running up his arm in the form of hundreds of short, deep cuts, some already beginning to form scabs because of his accelerated healing. Cried because of the fact that he would have to clean up this awful mess, remembering every single second of the experience. Cried because even though he didn't want people to know, he wanted people to notice- and they probably wouldn't. Cried because he had gone against what he had promised May.

A flashback of what had happened the day of her death flashed before his eyes, the ever weakening grip of his aunt on his hand, the tears of frustration and sadness streaming down the both of their faces, May asking, begging, him to never blame himself, to never bring harm to himself because of what was going to happen. Him promising, his grip slowly getting tighter as if trying to hold on to her permanently. The light slowly leaving her eyes as she said her final words, telling him how much she loved him. Telling him how much he meant to her, how proud she was, how she had never wished for such an amazing son. Her pulse slowly fading and her eyes closing with a sad yet accepting smile on her face...

{Trigger technically ended, just angst now}
Before he knew what was happening, the bloody blade was slapped out of his hand into the blood covered bathtub. A half crazed, half angry face came into view.
"WHAT THE HELL WHERE YOU THINKING?!"
Tony hollered, gripping his cheeks to force Peter to look at him. Peter only cried, a fresh wave of tears falling as he fell into Tony's strong arms. He wailed into his shoulder and bawled,
"Please d-don't hate me! P-please I *sob* didn't t-think! D-don't leave me dad, not y-you too, anyone but *sob* you!"
He continued to beg for forgiveness and for Tony to stay with him. Tony's own eyes began to well with glistening tears and he cradled Peter as close as possible without hurting him, stroking calming circles into his back and soothing him with his voice. He nursed Peters bad arm, wiping it down softly with a flannel, getting rid of the drying blood, all the cuts now scabbed over and a few already scarred, placed unevenly on his pale skin forever. Once that was done Tony picked a snivelling Peter up and placed him on his hip, Peter's face still huddled in his neck. Tony sat them both down on the now stone cold bed and cuddled Peter close.

They stayed like that for 3 hours.

Ok so I'm sorry for the angst but I had to start it like this, it won't be angsty like this in the chapters to come I promise but I needed to put an angsty base so that I could leave space for fluff later on. Also, as a fellow depressed suicidal self harming friend, if you are feeling like harming or possibly ending yourself please do talk to someone. Anyone. I will always be here if no one else will listen. I'm serious. I have legit no life- I don't sleep so I'm available all night so really, talk to me if you need someone to help. Me or a friend, family member, therapist. Someone. Please. Anyway now that that's done I hope you enjoyed. Maybe. I enjoyed writing this for some weird reason but yeah. Tell me how you felt about it 🤙

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