✶⋆.˚ savior complex (peter parker x fem!reader)
🎇 . 𖦹˙— summary: when you fall apart, peter is the one to hold you. but peter parker is too busy worrying about you to realize he’s falling apart too. 3.6k words
🎇 . 𖦹˙— contents: established relationship, hurt/comfort, light angst, very brief non-sexual nudity, can be read as any peter. CW: depictions of poor mental health (depression, panic attacks, anxiety), reader has a hard time eating. english is not my first language. savior complex by phoebe bridgers
translated and adapted from my wattpad
about me
✶⋆.˚ The apartment was scarily quiet again. The curtains were closed, letting the room be drowned with darkness. The books scattered around the floor seemed to stare at you, reproaching you for weeks of undone work and unread emails from your boss. You looked down at your hands resting on the dining table. They were dry and cold, your nails bitten down and broken to the point where you couldn't even remember the last time you’d painted them your favorite color.
The only sounds were the hum of traffic outside and the low vibration of the fridge. Not even the familiar sound of your neighbor’s TV could be heard right now. The apartment was quiet and you felt so empty.
Suddenly, Peter’s steps approached carefully. You looked up slowly and saw him holding two plates of your favorite meal, the one that always brought you back to your happiest memories. Your plate had slightly less food than his.
“Here you go,” Peter said softly, setting the plates onto the wooden table and sitting down opposite from you.
You stared at the food in front of you as if it had come alive, screaming atrocities at you. Shifting in your seat, you lowered your hands down to your lap, hiding them behind the long sleeves of your sweater, wishing to disappear completely. Peter noticed instantly, brows furrowing as worry washed over his face.
“You have to eat, baby.”
“I’m not hungry,” you muttered, your voice weak and raspy from the lack of use.
“I know, but you need to eat something, baby. Just one spoonful, please?”
Suddenly the noise of the city outside and Peter’s spoon clinking against his bowl felt suffocating. The exhausting quiet of your home had turned into and overwhelming roar, and you couldn’t stop it. The food was quietly judging you and you didn’t understand why eating felt so difficult when, just a few months ago, your favorite time of the day was coming home after a long day and tasting the meal your boyfriend had cooked for you.
Your tired eyes began to sting, and your breathing hitched as you realized you were about to cry, though no tears actually came out. You had hit rock bottom.
Noticing your distress, Peter got up and moved to the chair right next to yours, gently rubbing your back with the lightest, careful touch.
“Hey, it’s okay. I know you can do this, alright?” he leaned in close, his brown eyes searching yours. “I made your grandma’s recipe just for you, beautiful. Don’t you wanna taste a little?”
You remained silent.
“You can go back to bed after, darling, and we can rest together. But you need to eat a little first. Can you do that for me, baby? Here, I’ll help you.”
He scooped a spoonful of soup and held it patiently in front of you, waiting for you to accept his little offer.
His words echoed in your mind. You glanced at the spoon, then at Peter, whose eyes were on you, and then back at the spoon. Letting out a shaky breath, you parted your lips and took the spoon in, allowing the warm soup to coat your tongue. Swallowing felt like an impossible task, but you were doing it and Peter was right there by your side, feeding you tenderly, guiding you through it.
Peter smiled softly as he kept a reassuring hand on your back. He leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, lingering there for a moment.
“You’re doing so well, baby. Do you want some water?”
You nodded as he grabbed the glass in front of you and brought it to your lips so you could take a small sip. As soon as he set it back down, you collapsed against his shoulder in exhaustion. He instinctively wrapped his arms tightly around you.
“I don’t want any more soup.”
“Alright, we’ll save the rest for later,” he pushed the plate to the side, noticing you had managed to eat nearly half of it. “I’m so proud of you, baby.”
Peter stayed there, calming you down with his embrace while he watched his food get cold, ignoring his subtle hunger.
After a few moments, he tilted his head to see your tired expression. “What are you thinking about, darling?”
You looked straight into his brown eyes, the ones that always worried about you. You swallowed hard and you inevitably lowered your gaze once again.
“I don’t remember what being okay feels like,” you admitted in a trembling voice, heart racing against your ribcage while you waited for Peter’s reaction.
Peter’s breath hitched. His jaw tensed and he sat straight, cupping your cheek and pulling you against his chest. You finally broke as you felt actual tears slide down your face, your frantic sobs filling the room.
“It’s okay, love. You’re going to get through this, I know you will.”
You felt as if your heart shrunk as Peter warmly kissed the top of your head, which gave you just enough strength to lift up your arms and wrap them around his body.
“You’re not alone in this, alright?” he whispered near your ear. “You’ve got a lot of people who love you—me most of all. I’ll be your anchor, I won’t let you fall apart.”
“I didn’t mean to stay in bed all day again, I promise. I just can’t bring myself to get up, I’m sorry,” you sobbed against the phone.
“It’s not your fault, baby. Don’t punish yourself for it,” he said softly over the city noise.
“I just don’t want to lose my job,” you cried, lifting up your hand to wipe the tears away from your face. “I feel terrible, Peter,” you said in a quiet voice.
On the other side of the line, Peter felt his heart shattering in a million pieces at your worried sobs. He paused, took a deep breath in and focused on you.
“Take a breath, baby. Try that breathing exercise your therapist taught you, yeah? I left class early, so I’ll be there in no time.”
He hung up, shooting webs to the nearest building to try to get home as soon as possible.
A couple of weeks later you held a warm mug of hot chocolate in between your hands. Peter had made it for you before heading out to patrol for the first time in forever. Taking small sips, you sat down on the couch trying to relearn your love for the films you used to enjoy.
Late at night, Peter silently crawled in through the bedroom window, moving slowly to not wake you up. As soon as he closed the window, he felt a violent wave of panic when he saw that you weren’t in bed. Hearing the noises coming from the living room, he rushed out the bedroom.
Peter saw the TV light glowing against your body curled up on the sofa. A relieved sight escaped his mouth as he approached you, gently whispering your name. He noticed your slow, steady breathing and your closed eyes. You had fallen asleep watching a movie.
He slowly kneeled beside the couch, still wearing the suit and holding the mask in between his shaky fingers.
“Hey, gorgeous, wake up,” he murmured, brushing his fingers carefully through your hair.
A soft smile painted his face as your eyes opened. You relaxed instantly at the sight of him bathing you in quiet words and soft caresses.
“Did you enjoy the movie?” he asked, helping you sit up.
“Not really.”
“No? Why not, baby?”
“I don’t know. It used to be one of my favorites, but today it just made me feel… odd,” you whispered.
Peter leaned in, lowering his gaze, completely confused. “Why didn’t you call me?”
You shrugged, staring at the embroidered spider on his chest. “You were busy.”
Peter breathed in deeply while he held your head between his bruised hands, resting his forehead against your.
“Call me whenever you need to. I’m never too busy for you, love.”
You nodded, letting yourself crash against the sofa, finding it difficult to remain sat up. Peter noticed instantly, giving you a cozy smile.
“Are you tired, darling? Have you eaten today?”
“Not since lunch.”
“Alright, I’ll reheat today’s breakfast, then. You don’t have to finish all of it, just eat a little, yeah?” You nodded. “Okay. After that, do you want to go to sleep? Take a shower? Talk about it?”
“No, I don’t wanna talk. A shower sounds nice though.”
“Great. I’ll be right back, gorgeous,” he said, giving you a quick peck. “I love you.”
As he stood up, the wounds and bruises he gained after a night of fighting criminals in the streets demanded his attention. He felt a stinging pain shoot through his abdomen, making him flinch, but he hid it before you could take notice.
He went straight to the kitchen, putting a plate in the microwave, pouring water into a glass and taking some painkillers to shut off the pain.
When the food was warm, he brought it to you, softly encouraging you to take a few bites like he did every night. For the first time in months, you finally ate the whole thing.
Later, Peter guided you to the shower, washing your hair just like he did whenever you felt overwhelmed.
“Aren’t you going to take off your suit?” you asked sleepily as he helped you into your pajamas.
“Yeah, in a minute. You’re my first priority,” he leaned in to kiss your temple.
That night, once you both were cuddled under the blankets, Peter couldn’t bring himself to sleep until he was completely sure you were sleeping peacefully.
The next morning Peter got home early. His ears were red from the crisp winter air and his eyelids were dark from the lack of sleep. He kicked off his shoes and made his way to the bedroom, preparing for another morning of sweet words and patiently trying to get you out of bed.
Today, much to his surprise, the blinds were already open, the bead was neatly made and your books were stacked on your desk. You got out of the bathroom, still in your pajamas.
“Good morning,” you said, watching him stand in the hallway.
Peter smiled out of reflex, slightly worried and confused.
“Hey,” he said when his brain finally caught up, rushing to give you a soft hug. “How are you feeling? How long have you been awake?”
Peter let go of you, immediately searching for that grey, tired expression you always wore. He expected to see dark circles, eyes fighting to stay open, but he didn’t see any of that. He instead saw a quiet glow across your face. You looked perfectly normal.
“Just a few minutes. I woke up feeling good. I even made the bed.”
Peter glanced at the bed behind you and then back at you, taking in the slight smile in your face.
“Yes, I see that. I’m proud of you, love,” he whispered, pulling you back into his arms.
“Thank you”, you smiled. “What’s on the bag?” you ask when you felt something press against your back.
“I brought freshly baked cookies from that place you like,” he informed, showing you the brown paper bag. “I thought you might want some.”
“Yes, I do.”
Once in the kitchen, you pulled out a couple of plates from the cupboard while Peter stood there, completely bewildered. His brain was constantly in the search of something to help you with. Did you need help making the coffees? Maybe carrying the plates? When you tried to open the carton of milk, Peter practically stepped in, opening it himself for you.
“Don’t tire yourself out, love,” he insisted.
“Thanks, baby,” you replied.
As you sat down to eat, Peter sat next to you, wrapping a nice blanket around your shoulders to keep you warm. His eyes were fixated on you, ready to jump in to protect you at a moment’s notice. Meanwhile, you ate the warm cookies, slowly and quietly, but comfortably. Peter, on the other hand, didn’t even realize he sat completely still, his body tense.
“Peter?” you called.
He quickly leaned in. “What is it?”
“Today’s my therapy appointment.”
Peter placed a cold hand on your knee, tracing absentminded circles with his thumb. “Yes, I know. What’s wrong?”
“Can you come with me? I know you talked about visiting your aunt, but I don’t think I can make it without you there,” you asked with sincerity.
“Of course I can come with you, baby. Always. Don’t worry about May, yeah? We can give her a visit whenever you feel up to it.”
You smiled, relieved, placing your hand on top of his and finishing your breakfast.
Then, one night after Peter had kissed you good night, you woke up a few hours later and found him asleep on a chair in the dining room. His Spider-Man suit was sprawled over his lap, a half-threaded needle sticking out of it and a cold cup of coffee in his hands. You kissed the top of his head, gently waking him up.
“What are you doing up?” He asked, rubbing his eyes and placing the cup of coffee on the table. “Can’t sleep?”
“I just came to drink some water,” you answered. “Why don’t you come to bed?”
“I can’t. I have to finish this,” he said, standing up to grab the glass of water you asked for.
“Don’t you have an early class tomorrow?” you asked, accepting the glass of water and taking a sip out of it.
“Yeah, but it’s okay.”
Peter sat back down on the chair, picking up the suit and resuming his stitches. You nodded, kissing his cheek. You took a look at the calendar on the wall, previously full of Peter’s exams and patrol schedules, now exclusively covered with your therapy appointments, and you headed back to bed.
The sound of keys unlocking the front door echoed through the apartment. You stepped in and kicked off your shoes, closing the door behind you. Peter’s hurried steps suddenly appeared.
“Hey, sorry for being late. We lost track of time,” you smiled.
“Hi, love. Where were you?” Peter asked, taking your bag and placing it on the coat rack.
“Didn’t you get my message? I texted you while you were in class that I was grabbing dinner with the girls.”
“Yes, I saw that, but I didn’t know where you were. I mean, I didn’t have your location.”
You stared at him for a moment, confused. He had big dark circles under his eyes, his eyes looked glassy, almost as if he was about to cry, and his brown curls were a mess.
“Sorry, I forgot to send it to you. But I was only a few blocks away.”
“It’s fine, it’s fine. You’re home now, with me,” he breathed out, pulling you in for a hug, softly kissing your hair. “Are you tired? Do you want to lay down?”
“No, I actually slept in today,” you replied, gently pulling back.
Peter placed his slightly trembling hands on your shoulders, his eyes scanning your whole body for something that might be bothering you. Noticing that you weren’t wearing a coat, he instantly headed to the bedroom.
“Are you cold? I’ll get a blanket. Or do you want some hot tea?”
“Peter,” you said, declining the blanket he offered you.
“Tell me, baby.”
“I’m not cold.”
Peter’s frantic expression faltered as he looked down, but he forced himself to stand tall, offering you a smile.
“I made some food while you were out so you could eat as soon as you got home,” he said, walking to the kitchen.
“I’m not hungry.”
Peter stopped in his tracks, turning around to look at you with pure tenderness.
“I know, love, but you have to eat at least a little bit, yeah?”
You looked at him firmly, placing your hand in his chest, feeling his rapid heartbeat under your palm.
“I’m not hungry because I already ate. Sally invited me to dinner, dessert included, and then she offered to help me look for a job offer in her building.”
Peter’s brain short-circuited after hearing your words. He stared at you, locking in your smile, searching for any sign that you were faking it. But all he found was a genuine, glowing smile.
“Oh, um… that’s great, love. I’m happy for you.”
In that moment, Peter felt like the worst person in the world. You, his girlfriend, the person he loves the most, the strongest woman he had ever met that had spent months in the dark was finally okay. You were actually smiling, proud of your journey, excited for your future. And Peter, your boyfriend, the person who should be the happiest for you, couldn’t do it. So he continued searching for any problem to solve.
“Are you sure you ate enough? Don’t you want to rest a little bit?”
“I think I’m going to take a shower. And maybe tomorrow we can take a walk through the park? The weather’s been so nice lately. You can really tell spring is here.”
“Yeah, perfect,” he nodded. “Do you want me to wash your hair? Or I can just sit on the floor and chat with you, like you like.”
You lowered your hand to his arm, gently stroking it through his hoodie. “I do like it when you do that, but I wanna try to do it on my own this time. I feel really good.”
Peter swallowed harshly, his Adam’s apple moving up and down, “Alright.”
You followed his gaze as he looked down, taking his hands in yours.
“I know these past months you’ve gotten used to taking care of me, and I’m truly grateful for that,” he looked up at you. “You’re amazing, but today I genuinely feel okay.”
Peter smiled softly, nodding slightly as his brows remained furrowed, “I’m so proud of you. You look really happy.”
“Thank you, handsome,” you smiled widely, stroking Peter’s cheek and giving him a quick peck on the lips. “I love you.”
“I love you too.”
Once you got out of the shower, steamy mist rushing out to the hall and fresh clothes covering your body, you looked for Peter, wanting to spend some quiet, relaxing moments with him for the first time all day. You found him in the dining room, his laptop was open in front of him, tools and superhero gear were scattered across the table and his college textbooks lay abandoned on a chair.
You approached him carefully, wrapping your arms around his tense shoulders and touching his chest. The familiar scent of him filled your lungs when you buried your head on the crook of his neck, letting yourself relax.
“What are you doing, love?” you asked.
“Upgrading my web-shooters,” he answered, seemingly fixated on the tiny mechanism in his hands.
“You don’t have to do that, Peter,” you said in a quiet voice, gently taking the screwdriver out of his hands. His knuckles were white from gripping it tightly. “You already did that last week.”
Peter froze. He stared at the messy table, then at the recently cleaned kitchen, and then finally at you. You looked alive, renewed. For the first time in months, there was nothing in front of him that needed fixing.
His hands started shaking. “I can put the clothes in the laundry so you can wear your favorite hoodie tomorrow,” he let out quickly, almost desperately, standing up in a second.
“Peter,” you interrupted, catching his cold hands. “The laundry’s already hung up.”
The air was knocked out of Peter’s lungs, as if he had been punched directly in the stomach. He took a step back, but his legs betrayed him, forcing him to slump on the chair behind him. He slammed his hands across his face, feeling a frustrating sting in his chest, overwhelmed by everything and nothing at all.
“What do I do, then?” he muttered as his voice broke a little, losing his confident appeal for a second. “If you don’t need me… what am I supposed to do?”
You sat down by his side without taking your eyes off him. You grabbed his hand and placed it right above your heart so he could feel its steady beating.
“You don’t have to do anything. Rest, have fun. Exist.”
“I just… I don’t know how to do that, y’know?” he confessed in a thread of a voice, letting his head drop heavily against your shoulder. “If I’m not fixing anything, if I’m not helping you, I feel totally unworthy.”
You closed your eyes for a moment, feeling a sting of guilt and tenderness at the same time. You understood that hollow feeling of emptiness all too well. You had lived in it for too long.
Slowly, you ran your fingers through his hair, unraveling the soft, messy curls. You felt his body shaking against yours with the weight of months full of quiet anxiety.
“You saved my life, Peter. You were there for me,” you whispered, leaning in to kiss his forehead. “But I don’t love you because of what you do for me. I love you because you’re you.
He let out a choked sob, wrapping his arms around your waist and pressing himself against you like you were his only anchor in the middle of a storm.
“You’re tired, baby,” you said softly, caressing his back. “You should get some sleep.”
You slowly helped him up and guided him to the bed. Peter let himself fall against the mattress, quietly slipping under the pillows.
You curled up beside him, placing his head on your lap. You covered his body up to the shoulders with a warm blanket as you gently stroked his soft hair.
For the first time in weeks, Peter peacefully closed his eyes. He quickly fell asleep, knowing deep in his heart that if he ever fell, you were always there to catch him.
a/n: bnd was sooo good even my mom liked it and she’s not really a fan. anyways i think she’s in love with tom holland now (not kidding) so good for her.
i’ve been really wanting to write this one shot for AGES since phoebe announced her new album ‼️, but i couldn’t bring myself to do it. it took me so much time, and then translating and adapting it (since it was originally written in spanish) was the hardest part because I constantly have to look up alternative words and phrases to use.
thank you so much for all the support, hope you enjoyed it <3
