Spider-Son & Iron Dad one shots

Blood Loss

a/n: quick question,, do y'all know that I have a schedule for these or?? because it's on the chapter called "Accident." It's the whole plan for the whole month in case u didn't know:)

⚠️and now, sadness—seriously, don't read if you're going through a tough!!!sad!!!time!!!this is the equivalent of listening to depressing music when you're already upset. you have been warned.⚠️

I KILL PETER AND IM DRAMATIC ABOUT IT OK BYE

Spooktober.16

Peter Parker—No. Spider-Man, was exhausted.

It had been a long night. A lot of bad guys. A lot of stab wounds.

It had been a long life, really. Orphan, trauma, death... It seemed to have follow him his whole life. It was like a dark cloud that loomed over his days, making colours seem just a tad dimmer than the average eye. You got used to it, but it was still there.

And throughout all of that, he got back up. He took another breath. He lived. He tried to brighten his days when he could, if not for himself than for other people.

This is what he thought about as he lay propped up against an air conditioning unit, somewhere in New York on some building's rooftop.

The sun was shining over the city, and Spider-Man felt an uncomfortable calm about it. This was his city. And despite everything, he was proud.

He had pulled off his mask. He didn't want to listen to Karen or Edith talking in his ear anymore. His hair stuck to his forehead in clumps of sweat and blood.

Spider-Man was cold. He shivered, curling in on himself a little. His body was sore, and he felt a sharp stinging pain in his entire side as he moved.

As he continued to sit in pain, shivering and so very tired, the line between Spider-Man and Peter Parker become thinner and thinner.

Peter Parker was fading. He knew this. He knew this wasn't going to last.

He wanted to call Tony. He couldn't even if he needed to.

He wanted to call May.

He wanted to call Ned, and MJ, and Happy, and everybody else.

But his vision was going blurry, and his limbs were so weak. Seeing how shaped and lines became more like blurred pixels of colour, he smiles tearfully.

It's so funny how something so simple and usually so sad can make you nostalgic, but seeing his vision fade, he couldn't help but remember how it was before all of this.

Before he met Tony. Before Ben died in his arms. Before he got hit by a spider and stepped up to protect a whole borough—a whole world, more recently—rather than himself and his family.

Before. A time where the worst that could happen was Flash saying something particularly rude, or getting a bad grade on a test. A time where the best that could happen seems so out of reach from today.

His mind feels fuzzy.

Spider-Man is bleeding out, and Peter Parker must pay the price.

He knows deep down that he wouldn't change this fate. He knows what has to happen.

A part of him wonders about what could have happened if he hadn't gotten stabbed. If there was another way to save the small girl who originally was in the crossfire. He shakes his head weakly at the thought.

It would have been nice, though, he thinks. If he were to survive this. If he were to go home and sleep it off, just like old times.

Maybe the next day he would have bought MJ flowers, and remind her that he loves her. They would hold hands and MJ would call him a dork. He would have spent hours with Ned, watching all of their personal favourite movies. He would have played tag with Morgan, and helped Pepper make dinner. He would have went home and watched old horror movies with May. He would have felt safe.

He smiles at this, and his eyes close, as he's too tired to keep them open any longer.

He shivers again. It's freezing.

As he stares into the darkness, he thinks of everything and nothing.

He thinks of May. He thinks of life, and the little things that made him smile. Legos, bumblebees, the smell of Tony's lab. He thinks of empty space. He thinks of funerals. He thinks of the dark clouds and those dreaded black umbrellas.

And then there was nothing.

Nothing at all.

A blank, empty mind.

Peter Parker was dead.

And New York was never the same.