Marvel Oneshots

Crash (Peter Parker)

I was swinging through the city, the cool night air rushing past me as I made my way back home from patrol. It had been a quiet evening—almost too quiet. Usually, I'd be chasing some thug or thwarting a small robbery by now, but tonight? Nothing. For once, it was peaceful.

My mind drifted to Y/N, as it often did. She was at home tonight, working on a project she'd been stressing about for days. We'd texted earlier—she told me not to worry, that she'd order takeout and hunker down to finish it. I smiled to myself, imagining her sitting at our tiny kitchen table, headphones in, focus etched across her face as she tried to block out the world and get things done.

God, I loved her.

I fired another web, launching myself over a rooftop, the city sprawling out beneath me. I couldn't wait to get home, to see her, to wrap my arms around her and pretend the world outside didn't exist for just a little while. After everything we'd been through, she was my calm in the storm.

Just as I was about to swing one last time, my phone buzzed in my pocket. Mid-air, I reached for it, expecting some message about how she was finally taking a break or had fallen asleep at the table again. But when I looked at the screen, my heart dropped into my stomach.

It wasn't a text from Y/N. It was a call—from an unknown number.

Frowning, I landed on a rooftop, answering it on instinct. "Hello?"

"Is this Peter Parker?"

The voice on the other end was serious, tense even. Something about it made my blood run cold.

"Uh, yeah. Who's asking?"

"This is Officer Daniels with the NYPD. Are you familiar with Y/N Y/L/N?"

My heart stopped. Why was a cop asking me about Y/N?

"Y-Yeah, she's my—what happened? Is she okay?"

There was a pause, and I could hear muffled voices in the background before Officer Daniels spoke again. "I'm afraid there's been an accident. She was involved in a car crash a short while ago."

My blood froze. Everything around me went silent.

"A crash?" I echoed dumbly, as if I hadn't heard him right. "Is she—where is she? Is she hurt?"

"She's being transported to St. Luke's Hospital as we speak. I don't have all the details, but she was unconscious when we arrived on the scene."

Unconscious.

I didn't wait to hear anything else. I hung up, my hands shaking as I shoved the phone back into my pocket, and without thinking, I shot a web into the sky, launching myself toward St. Luke's.

God, no. Please no.

I flew through the air, my heart hammering in my chest, my mind racing with worst-case scenarios. What if she was hurt? What if—what if she didn't make it? The thought made my stomach twist painfully, and I pushed myself harder, swinging faster, the buildings around me blurring into streaks of light.

I was supposed to protect her. I should've been there. Instead, she was out there, alone, getting hurt, while I was off playing superhero. The guilt gnawed at me, each swing through the city filled with the crushing weight of what-ifs.

When I finally reached the hospital, I didn't even bother changing out of the suit. I rushed through the emergency room doors, not caring about the stares I got as I sprinted up to the front desk.

"I'm here for Y/N Y/L/N," I blurted out, my voice shaking. "She was in an accident. Where is she?"

The nurse behind the desk glanced at me, eyes widening slightly at the sight of Spider-Man standing in front of her. She quickly composed herself, typing something into her computer before looking back up at me.

"She's just been admitted. They're taking her to surgery now."

Surgery.

The word hit me like a freight train, and my knees almost gave out. Surgery. That meant she was hurt—hurt badly. I tried to swallow the lump in my throat, but it wouldn't go down.

"Is she—" I couldn't even finish the sentence.

"They'll take care of her," the nurse said gently, her expression softening. "You should sit and wait. I'll let you know if we hear anything."

I nodded, though my body felt numb. I stumbled over to the waiting area and collapsed into one of the hard plastic chairs, my mind spinning out of control.

How did this happen? I replayed everything in my head, trying to make sense of it. She was supposed to be at home. She was supposed to be safe. Maybe she had gone out to get food. Maybe she was too tired and didn't see the car. I didn't know, and it was killing me not knowing.

Minutes stretched into hours. Every time the door opened, my heart jumped into my throat, but it was never for me. The clock on the wall seemed to mock me, ticking away the seconds like they were years. I leaned forward, elbows on my knees, head in my hands, waiting for some news—any news.

Finally, a doctor came out, scanning the room before his eyes landed on me. He approached slowly, and I shot up from my seat, my heart thundering in my chest.

"Peter Parker?" he asked, glancing down at the chart in his hand.

"That's me," I managed, my voice barely a whisper. "How is she?"

"She's stable for now," the doctor said, his tone calm but serious. "She suffered a concussion, a few broken ribs, and a fractured leg. But the biggest concern was internal bleeding. We managed to stop it during surgery, but she's still unconscious. We'll keep her in the ICU for observation."

Relief flooded my body like a tidal wave, but it was tinged with fear. She was alive, but she wasn't out of the woods yet.

"Can I—can I see her?"

The doctor nodded. "She's in recovery now. You can see her for a few minutes, but she needs rest."

I followed him down a series of sterile hallways, my heart pounding in my chest with each step. When we finally reached the room, he stepped aside, and I walked in slowly, my breath catching in my throat.

Y/N lay in the hospital bed, pale and still, tubes connected to machines that beeped softly around her. Her leg was in a cast, her arm bandaged, and her face was bruised, but it was still her—still the woman I loved more than anything in the world.

I pulled up a chair next to her bed and sat down, my hand gently reaching for hers. Her skin was cool to the touch, but she was warm—alive.

"I'm so sorry," I whispered, my voice trembling. "I should've been there. I should've been with you."

She didn't respond, of course. She was still out cold, and that made my heart clench in fear. What if she didn't wake up? What if—

No. I couldn't think like that.

I stayed with her for hours, watching her chest rise and fall, my hand never leaving hers. I kept talking to her, even though I knew she couldn't hear me. I told her how much I loved her, how much I needed her to wake up, to stay with me. I told her about the time we first met, how I had tripped over my own feet trying to impress her, and how she'd laughed and helped me up. I told her everything, hoping that somehow, she'd hear me.

At some point, I must have dozed off, because when I opened my eyes, the room was bathed in soft morning light. I blinked groggily, my body stiff from sitting in the same position all night.

Then, I felt it—a faint squeeze on my hand.

My eyes snapped to Y/N, and I saw her stirring, her eyelids fluttering open slowly.

"Y/N?" I whispered, leaning closer, my heart racing.

She blinked up at me, her gaze hazy and unfocused at first. Then, slowly, her lips curved into the faintest smile.

"Peter..."

Tears welled up in my eyes as I let out a shaky breath, relief flooding through me.

"I'm here," I whispered, squeezing her hand. "I'm right here."

And for the first time in what felt like forever, I believed everything would be okay.