tom holland/peter parker and steve rogers oneshots

promises- peter parker

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in which he tries to make

promises to her that he

can keep

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wow my title names are SO original and creative lol

also this oneshot sucks and is cliche but im running out of ideas

IM SORRY THIS WAS SO LONG

also second to last chapter of this book :(

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You blinked and stirred awake, hearing faint voices in the background as you tried to recollect the events from what had happened earlier. All you could seem to remember was something sharp ripping through your shoulder before you passed out cold and someone carried you back to the Quinjet bridal-style in their strong arms.

"Cap? When are we getting back?" Peter looked over towards the super-soldier, the worry clear in his tone as his hand squeezed yours, tight. "If we wanna save her, we gotta do something now..."

"We still have two hours before we touch down at SHIELD's medical facility," Clint replied, his brows furrowing together in concern, "Bruce...can you patch her up?"

"I can," Bruce replied, "but I'll have to do it without anesthesia, so it'll be pretty painful for her..."

"Please hurry," Peter begged, swallowing the lump in his throat, "Please don't let her die."

"She's not going to die," he scientist reassured him. "but we'll need to get this over with, fast. She's losing a lot of blood, and it'll take her at least a few days before she fully recovers."

You heard Peter's chair scrape across the floor of the jet and looked up to meet his concerned gaze, tears stinging at the edges of his eyes. "Peter...?"

"Y/N," he breathed out shakily, his shoulders sagging in relief as you managed a small smile. "You holding up okay? Dr. Banner says he can stitch you up and all, but it's gonna hurt because your wound is pretty deep and we don't have any pain meds..."

"Just go through with it," you kept your voice as steady as possible before groaning in pain when you tried to shift into a more comfortable position. Talking hurt your chest almost as much as the wound itself, and it was also the same arm that barely recovered from being sprained three weeks ago. "I'm not about to die 30,000 feet up in the air."

Bruce nodded once, and brought the first-aid kit over, laying out the necessary supplies onto the table next to your seats.

"Y/N, I need you to stay still for this, alright?" he explained. "Peter, if you could hold her steady, that would help."

You gritted your teeth and nodded, as the boy shifted his chair closer to you.

You felt him slither his free arm under your back as his other hand grasped tightly onto yours. You cried out in pain from the sudden movement of the alcohol-soaked cotton ball making contact with your skin, creating a hissing sound, then the needle piercing through shortly after. Peter then sat behind you, his arm placed securely around your torso so that you could rest back against his chest.