Tom Holland & Peter Parker Imagines & Preferences (book 2)

Let it be me

"I have to go."

Peter. Here he was, a battle raging above New York once again, his suit on, his mask thrown on quickly, the whole student body staring at him, but his eyes were locked only on one person; you.

You stared at him, eyes wide, panic clear across all your features as he spoke. "Everyone stay here, get to the basements. Stay safe!" He turned to go, breaking his gaze, clearly his way of begging you to stay in the basement of the building in Midtown, clearly hoping it would keep you safe. The student body around you in the gym moved immediately, making a beeline to the basement and workshop doors, some screaming, some crying, but all following his orders, his plea.

Spider-Man.

Peter.

Your Peter.

"W-wait!" You called, running after him, his form retreating quickly. "P-please!"

He paused, turning around and saw the broken way you were running; like you were being held back by something, like part of you wanted to listen to him but the other part of you, the stronger part, was forcing you to go lest he something happen to him.

"[Y/N]," he muttered, pulling you into an abandoned classroom and pulling his mask from his face. "You can't just- you have to go downstairs. Please," he begged, his soft brown eyes pleading with you.

"You- you can't just- Peter they are fighting a mad titan! in outer space! Y-you can't- not-" Your voice was broken, unable to get the words out; your mind unable to process that there was an alien from space invading the world and your fifteen-year-old boyfriend was going to go up and fight alongside the heroes of earth.

He saw your struggle, saw the desperate way you tried to make sense of this in your head and he pulled you into his arms. "I have to do this," he said, hugging you tightly, one hand around your back, the other on the back of your head, fingers tangled in your hair as he held you. "I can't just sit by and watch."

"Yes, yes you can!" Peter shook his head at your words but anger was filling you now. He had to see you were right. "P-Peter! You are fifteen! You're our friendly neighborhood Spider-Man! You're not-"

"Not like them. I know." He had released you, his eyes stinging from tears that threatened to spill. You were a force to be reckoned with, this much he knew. But to see you this way, fighting, crying, almost broken, because of him-

"You are why I have to do this. I have to save all of New York so that I can save you."

And with that, Peter pressed his lips to yours for a fleeting moment before pulling his mask on and running out of the building before you could say anything else.

Before you could convince him to stay.

And I'd get him to swap our places

Be running up that road

Peter Parker clung to the side of a strange metal ring, riding it up higher and higher into space, his breath hitching, becoming shorter and more difficult to do with every passing second.

His mind flooded him with memories.

Ned finding out he was Spider-Man. Finding Uncle Ben shot on the side of the road. The first day he had his powers. Your smile. Your eyes. Your hair. You.

His eyes closed.

And Peter Parker fell.

Be running up that hill

Be running up that building

You had raced after him. Of course, you had; you couldn't just let him go off.

Maybe you should have. If you hadn't followed him, maybe things would have gone differently. Maybe it happened because you followed him.

His suit was torn, mask clutched in his hand as he fell from the sky at an increasingly fast rate. He wasn't making any sign to slow down, wasn't making any movement at all, he just fell. Like a rag doll being carelessly dropped from the hands of a child who just saw something new; limp, lifeless.

You had watched as Iron Man had gone to catch him, flown as fast as he could, but not fast enough. Peter's body hit the ground, screams erupting from a crowd of people around him. Your feet had never moved faster, your eyes never saw any clearer as you approached him.

His limbs were at odd angles. His body was unmoving. His suit a darker red in places than normal. You felt your body drop-down next to him; it was like you were watching from outside; like you were just another bystander as your body acted on its own, pulling his mask off to see his eyes.

It was the only way to know for sure.

The unmistakable clank of metal hitting concrete sounded somewhere behind you, but you didn't move. Peter's warm brown eyes were cold, empty. It was then that you returned to your body.

"P-Peter, babe you- you gotta- you gotta wake up." Your fingers coiled themselves in his hair, playing with it in just the way that he liked. "Y-you gotta get up- Peter."

He never kept you waiting. He would never just listen to you call out his name, never just lay so still when you played with his hair and spoke to him.

Peter Parker always put you first.

"You are why I have to do this. I have to save all of New York so that I can save you."

He always put you first. And this time, it had cost him his life. It had cost you your world.

The scream that left your body was agonizing. Tony had tried to pull you away from Peter, tried to separate you from your boyfriend's lifeless body, but it had truly been the moment that reality sunk it; the moment Tony had said three little words; "He's gone, [Y/N]."

It was those three words, those three little words that changed everything in your life. "No- n-n-no he's not! W-we just have to- we have to get him back to the th-the compound." Your head was shaking back and forth, hands already working their way back into his hair, stroking it, putting his curls in place. His lips were turning blue.

Tony spoke softly, a hand on your shoulder. "We have to get the both of you out of here, [Y/N]."

His heart was broken. He was to blame for Peter's death, him and him alone. If he hadn't asked him to come to Germany if he hadn't offered him a permanent place on the Avengers... Peter Parker would still be alive today.

He would be hiding out in his school, holding your hand, comforting you while the battle raged on because Spider-Man would have never felt it his responsibility until Tony. He would have felt it his responsibility to protect Queens and Queens alone...

At least until he was older; an opportunity now robbed from him.

"Why couldn't it have been me?" Your eyes locked onto Tony's and it was then that he noticed the absolute absence of the sparkle Peter had always said was in your eyes.

Without Peter, there was nothing left to make it shine.

You lowered your forehead to that of the boy who's bloodied head now rested in your lap and closed your eyes.

So if I only could ...

"Please, let it be me instead."