#make tasm 3

summary: peter has a breakdown when a crime scene hits too close to home, and he needs to be reminded that he can't save everyone.

a/n: idk if i LOVE this tbh. reblogs and comments are appreciated!

content: she/her pronouns used, hurt/comfort, mentions of death and car accidents, implied panic attacks?? (i'm so sorry if i didn't write it properly btw, i've only had a few mild panic attacks and i based it on that), sort of an au where gwen didn't die (she's not mentioned here at all) bc i just think that peter would have a very bad and different reaction if gwen did die.

word count: 1.7k

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red and blue lights flickered all over the streets, almost melting against his red and blue skin-tight spandex, and peter watched in a haze as they jumbled messily in crystalised bokeh. the broken cries of a child, shouted orders of paramedics, the crispy chatter of a police radio and the thumping of a few dozen heartbeats all reached peter’s ears and added up to a sickening and constant ringing that sounded awfully similar to how it did when he lost his uncle ben.

he almost doubled over in the sudden swarm of nausea that came over him when he saw the hunched over figure of a boy who looked barely 12 sobbing over his now-announced-dead father, but stopped himself last minute because the city workers had enough to clean up already. the sight was so painfully familiar to him — every now and then he'd get deja-vu of back when it was him crouched over the only father-figure he ever had. and just like last time, it was his fault. it always had been.

no, no it's not, i can't save everyone, he reminded himself, squeezing his eyes shut and trying to visualise those words. he would not fall back down that rabbit hole again. absolutely not.

then why does everyone around you die?

why did you lose both of your parents and your uncle if it wasn't your fault?

…

who’s next?

he needed to get out of here. fast.

he blinked away his tears and willed his vision to get sharper, then attached a web to the nearest building and started to swing in the general direction of his girlfriend’s house, because he knew this was not a good time to be alone with his thoughts.

peter tried to ground himself while swinging, which proved difficult when all he could feel and hear was the loud, whistling wind working against him, but it still helped quiet the deafening ringing in his ears and soon enough he was standing on her apartment’s fire escape.

he peeked through the window, feeling his breath catch up in his throat once more when he saw that she was sleeping, curled into her blankets and soft snores falling from her lips. no, he backtracked, i can't do this to her. i can’t put her in danger — he was crawling backwards on the fire-escape, only half aware of his movements — i can’t pull her down with me. i’m not good for her. what if she —

and suddenly he was jumping up, a hand going up to clutch his heart as the sound of something shattering joined the constant ringing in his ears that never seemed to cease.

fuck. he'd broken her potted plant that she always kept on the fire escape. pushed it right down to the ground in his haste of trying to leave.

maybe he could still —

“peter?”

nevermind.

he watched sheepishly as her face peeked through the curtains, one hand rubbing her sleep-riddled eyes and the other pushing up the window as quietly as she could.

he tried to smile.

“hey, sorry about that i— uh… i don’t know. i’m sorry. i promise i’ll make it up t—” he croaked.

“peter, hey, it's okay,” she reached for his gloved hand, rubbing her fingers over it comfortingly, “come in.”

she watched as he gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head and crawled in.

as soon as he was inside, she pulled his mask off, eyes softening as she took in his disheveled form and the look in his eyes. he looked hopeless. crushed.

“sweetheart,” she cooed, gently wiping off the fresh swarm of tears that pooled in his eyes and overflowed down to his cheeks, “what happened?”

she knew something was wrong the moment she heard the crash. it wasn't like peter to be this clumsy this late at night (she knew he tried his hardest to not wake her up unless he absolutely needed to) unless he was really banged up, and she knew from a quick look-over that whatever it was, it wasn't a physical pain.

he didn’t say anything, and she could see that he was trying his hardest to not fall into her arms, his arms stiffening by his sides and eyebrows furrowing in concentration.

she frowned, and reached out to touch his forearm, feeling it stiffen just a little more as he steeled himself, before whatever resolve he had came crumbling down and he was suddenly pulling her roughly against his chest and sobbing his heart out.

she let out a breath of relief at his surrender, and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him in and kissing the side of his head.

they stayed like that for a while — him clutching on to the back of her shirt for dear life, chest shaking with sobs, ears still ringing — and her fingers gently raking through his hair as she whispered sweet nothings to his ear. it took a while for him to calm down, around half an hour, but she didn't mind; couldn't care less about how long it took or how she had classes early in the morning tomorrow. the only thing that mattered was that peter was here, ever the broken mess and that she had to pick the pieces back up, help him be his usual self again.

“it was a hit-and-run,” he whispered into the still ambience of the room, almost afraid that if he spoke any louder it would ruin the calm environment they had built up, “t-the man had a child, y/n. he was a single father. and i—” he heaved a shuddering breath, trying to regain his composure but failing miserably. he was crying again, curling further into her and gripping her shirt almost painfully. somehow, they had ended up on the floor, her back pressed against the bed and peter’s arms around her.

“i couldn't save him,” he whimpered, and she knew instantly just how much this had affected him. peter always had a break-down everytime he couldn't save someone, but this particular incident had hit too close to home.

“hey, look at me,” she grabbed his face tenderly, “it wasn't your fault, peter. you can't save everyone.”

he nodded hesitantly, and it was obvious from the way his eyes still lingered on the floor that he didn't fully believe it.

she sighed.

“okay, can you tell me how many people you have saved?”

a beat passed.

he shook his head, the action so small that she wouldn't have known he even gave a response if she hadn't felt it against her chest.

“exactly! you saved countless people, my love. and they went back home to their children because of you. that counts, doesn't it?”

a soft nod.

“yeah?”

“yeah.” an even softer whisper.

she kissed the top of his head, “you're a vigilante, pete. not god. it wasn't your fault.”

a comfortable silence fell over the two. peter seemed to be carefully mulling the words over in his head, and his breathing seemed to be getting steadier. she almost wondered if he had fallen asleep.

“what if…” he started, unsure of his words, and suddenly his breathing was picking up again, “what if you need me and i can’t—” he hiccuped, “i can’t—”

“no, peter, don't even think about that.”

“but—”

“no. i know where this is going and i am not going to indulge in this conversation.”

“but i’m being realistic! you could be in danger! hell, you're probably already in danger. what if someone saw me coming in?” he was sitting up now, eyes looking around the room frantically.

“peter, it's 3 in the morning. you didn't fight any criminals today. no one saw you coming in.” she reached out to him again, hands rubbing up and down his arms in an attempt to comfort him, “breathe.”

“not today, maybe, but what if someone finds out my identity— i can’t—” he looked at her, wide, honeyed eyes welling up with tears again, “i can't lose you, y/n.”

her heart clenched painfully.

“and you won’t, peter,” she reassured him, “listen to me. realistically, i’m in danger of dying everyday. you’re in danger of dying everyday. anyone could die anyday. and what if the cause of my death isn't even an accident or a murder—” he fliched— “but something like… i don’t know, a heart attack. the point is, you can't control something like this, pete. so there's no point in making yourself anxious over this.”

he still looked hesitant. man, was this boy hard to convince.

“besides,” she added in an attempt to lighten the mood, “i know some mean fighting moves. i've seen you fight enough times on TV to know how to take down a criminal.”

he snorted, “i thought you were just looking at my ass.”

“what can i say, spidey? i'm a pretty good multi-tasker.” she winked.

a weak laugh escaped him, and she felt relieved that he was back to making jokes. she reached for him again, pulling him back towards her and resuming their previous position, with his head on her chest and her hands playing with his hair.

silence fell over them again, blanketing the both of them like mist on leaves right in the beginnings of dawn.

“thank you,” he said after a while, kissing the bare skin of her neck.

“you don't have to thank me,” she bought his face up towards her again, tracing the sharp edges of his jawline with her fingers, “i love you.”

a sharp inhale sounded, and peter somehow slumped even more in her arms, the words having even more of an effect on him than usual. the action earned him a giggle and a bump on his nose with hers, and he found himself reaching closer, lips desperately in search of hers.

she indulged him, and the kiss was nothing but the softest of touches, the gentlest flutter of skin against skin, but it left them both sated, and peter calmer than he was when he came here.

she got up soon afterwards, stretching her arms over her head with a yawn as the first rays of morning light filtered through the curtains. he found himself smiling for the first time that night then, nodding as she asked him if he wanted a glass of water before getting into bed.

masterlist | series masterlist | playlist

Pairing: TASM!Peter Parker x female reader

Word Count: 1.3k

Warnings: none

Peter Parker. Spider-Man. Your best friend in the world. 

Of course, he didn’t become Spider-Man until long after you met. Before he donned his spider-like alter ego, he was just Peter, a tall, lanky, uncertain boy who was looking for his place in the world the same way you were. Two wide-eyed, little freshmen, terrified of embarking on the endeavor that was high school, and ever since you met him the first day of class in first period, you were attached at the hip. You and Peter, always together, always just the two of you, which suited you just fine. He was your closest friend and confidant and you were his. 

Then he was bitten by that spider, and everything changed. When Peter started acting cagey and coming home covered in bruises and cuts, it didn’t take long for you to put two and two together. You might not have been as book smart as he was but you knew more about people than he did, and you knew him like the back of your hand. 

And so you kept his secret for him. You’d tend to his wounds when he’d inevitably come knocking at your bedroom window, late at night when he couldn’t go home for fear of worrying Aunt May. You’d patch him up, let him recover, and send him off to fight another day, then he’d be back again that night and the cycle would restart. You often wondered, and worried, when his luck would run out, when he’d…lose. 

But after days, then months, then years passed and he still showed up at your window every night, your fears eased, albeit deceptively so. The fear-filled thought became dormant.

Tobey and Andrew at the World Premiere of Spiderman No Way Home

The spoiler ban is lifted so I'm going to go on a rant about Spiderman: No Way Home. First of all, let me start off with how the movie treated Andrew and Tobey's arc. They weren't there just for the sake of the multiverse or the clout but their characters had the same depth that we saw in their own respective movies. As a fan, this movie felt like a warm hug and a slap across the face all at the same time, seeing my childhood heroes share the screen together and then saying goodbye to them all in a matter of minutes was probably one of the most overwhelming cinema experiences I've had. Now let's talk about the chemistry between Peter and MJ, we saw them in homecoming as just casual friends and then we progressed onto mutual pining and then finally saw them in a relationship together in far from home. This movie was different, you see both of them being in a relationship when everything around them is chaotic, I loved those few stolen moments they show, the video calls and the roof and everything else it's all so human and vulnerable to me something I felt that Tobey's Peter and MJ ( Mary Jane) lacked. My favorite part of the movie though was the ending and as gut-wrenchingly sad it was, it was also the exact thing that MCU Peter needed. Watching the sketch of his new suit splayed out on his small desk and the stitching machine and everything else about the end shot was...I don't know how to describe it but it was the most Peter Parker I've seen him. If Marvel doesn't make another Spiderman movie I think they're missing an incredible opportunity to give us the Spiderman that we've always wanted and we're so close. Peter is alone now, he has no one and no money and I don't know about you but that seems like a new begging to me much rather an ending. There is so so much in this movie that I wanna talk about like Andrew's Peter saving MJ and Tobey ( I'm just gonna refer to them by the actor's name now) stopping Tom from impaling Norman with the glider and Ned having magic and the credit scene. Each and every scene of this movie felt so personal that I just want to gatekeep this forever and keep it to myself, it reminded me of being five and crying over Harry Osborn dying and then being seven and crying again over Gwen and now I'm sixteen and I'm crying over the fact that this may be a goodbye to my first and my favorite comfort character. I don't think I'll ever be ready to say goodbye.