spiderson oneshots

Stupid Purple Grape

Peter Parker was a man of many secrets. And when I say many, i mean a hell of a lot. It's almost like a second nature to stuff all his hardships and problems deep down just so no one worries about him.

But ever since Infinity War, Peter has never been the same. He's quieter at school and around his family members, he doesn't eat much, he spends hours everyday in the gym. Everyone noticed these changed, but weren't brave enough to bring them up.

Peter appeared to be your typical "emo, gen-z teenager" with his piercings and dark clothing, especially with all the dark references he made when he did talk. He scared a lot of people, even Flash.

It was a normal Wednesday afternoon, or as 'normal' you can have after the entire battle nowadays. Peter was in gym class, leaning against the padded walls as the teacher droned on about that day's activity.

"Alright class. Today we will be playing capture the flag, Shirts and Skins style. The following people will be the shirts team: Flash, Julie, Skip, Andrew, Anthony, Timmy, Harley, Amanda, Sierra, Chloe, Patrick, and Cole. The following people will be on skins: Kyle, Ned, Séan, Oliver, Tobey, Oscar W., Oscar T., Quinn, Peter, Katie, Liam, Penelope, and Paige."

Everyone who was able to keep their shirts on cheered whilst the others groaned in frustration. Begrudgingly, the "skins team" removed their shirts, all except for Peter who still leaned against the wall, staring at the floor.

"Parker! Get that shirt off now!" the teacher yelled from across the gym. The teen looked up, and students almost withered under the cold glare in his once soft brown eyes. He slowly turned, making everyone look at him.

Peter grabbed the hem of his jacket with both hands before pulling it over his head, leaving him in his tank top. Then he removed the last piece of clothing he had to, dropping it onto the ground. The room fell silent.

The quiet teen's chest, stomach and arms were lined with scars of all shapes and sizes, faded bruises still littered his throat, oddly looking like giant handprints. Two slashes were still healing on his right abdomen which looked like they were once embedded with a knife.

"Are you happy now?" Peter asked darkly. "I did what you asked, didn't I?"

"P-Parker..." Flash breathed as he stared at the scars. "What the hell happened?"

Peter closed his eyes for a few seconds before opening them again with a sigh. "Remember Thanos?" the class all nodded, shivering at the memories of the purple titan. "He's a real son of a bitch."

"What'd he do to you...?" Timmy hesitantly asked.

Peter let out a dark chuckle, frightening the students. "Well, he choked me, threw me around, and-oh! I almost forgot. He turned me to dust."...now, let's just get on with this damn game."

-

It was after school and Peter exited the elevator at the penthouse floor, dropping his heavy school bag on the ground. He kicked off his sneakers before strolling into the kitchen and grabbing an orange juice from the fridge. He unscrewed the cap and took a long swig, the acidic juice running down the back of his throat.

"Hey Pete," Steve greeted, walking into the kitchen. Peter nodded in response before downing the rest of his drink before crushing the plastic bottle and chucking it in the garbage can. "Peter? Are you gonna answer me?"

Peter turned and stared at the one-hundred year old solider, raised his eyebrows and shook his head before walking off to his bedroom.

The teenager changed into some black joggers and running shoes before trying a black bandana around his head, fluffing up his chestnut curls. Peter grabbed a speaker and his phone before heading down to the training rooms, flicking the light on.

The boy turned his music on, hung up a punching bag and began to beat the shit out of it, the sound going thump thump thump. Peter's calloced knuckles cracked and started to bleed as he kept punching the bag repeatedly with more force with each hit.

Peter let out a strangled scream of bloody murder as his last knocked the bag from the hook, making a rip right down the middle. Sand grains spilled into the floor as Peter licked the abused bag of leather out of anger.

What he didn't know was that the Avengers had watched every single second of his ordeal, and soon scattered around the building, scared out of their minds. And when Peter came up from the training rooms six hours later, blood covering his clothes and skins, he came across no one.

what the fu- frickity frack is this