𝐏𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐫 𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐭 𝐁𝐨𝐨𝐤

Stay With Me

Parings → Peter Parker x Reader

Warnings → Injury, blood, stitches, pain, yelling, angst, hurt/comfort, protective Peter, soft fluff, minor swearing.

Summary →After getting stabbed on patrol, you seek Peter's help. He's furious, but his anger fades into love and comfort.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★

The pain in your stomach was unbearable. Every step you took sent a sharp, searing ache through your body, but you gritted your teeth and pushed forward, forcing yourself to climb up the fire escape. Blood dripped from your wound, soaking into the black fabric of your suit, but you ignored it. You had to get to Peter. You knew he was home-he'd told you he wasn't going on patrol tonight because of finals.

Reaching his window, you mustered the strength to knock. Once. Twice.

Seconds later, the curtains shifted, and Peter's face appeared, his expression soft with confusion before it twisted into pure horror.

"Holy-" He scrambled to unlock the window, shoving it open. "Y/n? What the hell happened?"

You barely had the energy to answer as he reached out, gripping your arm to help you inside. The moment your feet touched the floor of his room, your knees buckled, but Peter caught you, arms tight around you.

His touch was warm. Yours were freezing.

"You're bleeding," he muttered, voice tight with panic as he looked down at your stomach. His hands hovered over the gash, the fabric of your suit already dark with blood. "Shit. Shit. Why didn't you go to the compound?"

You gave him a weak, lopsided smile. "Didn't want to deal with the yelling and questions from Tony."

Peter didn't laugh. He didn't even crack a smile. His jaw clenched, and his brown eyes burned with fury as he guided you toward his bed.

"You're so damn stubborn," he grumbled under his breath, lowering you carefully onto the mattress.

"Hey," you protested weakly, "I prefer the term independent."

Peter shot you a sharp glare, making you shrink slightly. "Shut up."

He knelt beside you, unzipping your suit with quick, jerky movements. You let him peel the fabric away from your body, revealing smooth skin stained with blood. His hands hesitated when he noticed how much of it there was.

Peter swallowed hard. "Fuck, Y/n..." His voice was barely above a whisper.

"I'm fine," you mumbled.

Peter snapped his gaze up at you, furious. "No, you're not. You're stabbed. That's, like, the opposite of fine." He ran a hand through his curls, then exhaled sharply. "I-I need to stitch this up. I need to-just-stay still."

You watched as he practically ripped open his first aid kit, hands shaking as he pulled out antiseptic, gauze, and a suture kit.

"Lie down," he ordered.

You did as he said, wincing as you moved.

Peter took a deep breath, then grabbed the antiseptic. "This is gonna hurt."

"No kidding," you muttered.

The second the antiseptic touched your wound, you hissed, arching your back slightly. A sharp, burning pain spread through your stomach like wildfire.

"Ah-damn it-" Your hand shot out, gripping Peter's shoulder instinctively. You squeezed hard, nails digging into the fabric of his hoodie.

Peter barely even reacted. He was too focused, brows furrowed, lips pressed together tightly as he cleaned the gash. He worked quickly, but his hands weren't as steady as usual.