Spider-Man Imagines II

Reoccurring Nightmare (part one) | Peter Parker (TH)

this isn't a request but it was an idea that got stuck in my head yesterday and i just had to write it.

also here is an update on my peter parker funko pop collection (not pictured: one masked andrew garfield spidey). my goal is to collect every tom holland spidey pop, but the ones i still need are too hard to find here where i live, so i'll settle for the line i do have. 💗

forgive the horrible angle and the flash. one of the lightbulbs in my room went out so it's very dark in there rn

//

Tony, curled up on his side, flinced and jerked in his sleep.

Mr. Stark? I don't feel so good.

In his dream, he turned his head to see Peter standing a few feet away. This is wrong, his mind said. I haven't seen Peter in months.

I don't - I don't know what's happening. I don't-

He fell into him, almost knocking him back. Tony held him tight. His warmth, his shape, it felt real. He was really here.

I don't want to go. I don't want to go! Please, please I don't want to-

He laid him on the ground, because there was nothing else he could do. He held him, and Peter's brown eyes stared into his and he shook his head only slightly.

I'm sorry.

Tony jerked in his bed, wanting to scream out that it was okay, that he was forgiven, that he really didn't mean to be such a pain in his behind, he just wanted him to be safe and it wasn't his fault this happened-

Peter disappeared in his arms, the sudden emptiness feeling just as real as when it really happened.

Tony jerked in his bed, gasping and crying out and sitting up all at once. A pain shot up his arm, as it often did, and he held it, hissing in pain as the nightmare began to fade from his consciousness.

"Dad?" he heard from the doorway.

He turned his head suddenly. You were standing there, in a long sleeved Midtown tee (most definitely Peter's) and a pair of old pajama pants. You were crying, stifling the sounds by pressing a sleeve-covered-hand to your mouth.

"Did you have that bad dream again?" he asked.

"Y-Yes," you squeaked.

"Shhh, okay. Okay. Pepper's asleep, so let's go out in the hall." He pulled his legs from the blanket and put his bare feet on the cold floor. He got off the bed as gently as he could and shuffled out of the room, putting an arm around your shoulders as he lead you outside.

In the hallway, he leaned against the wall, his arms wrapped around you as you kept your face buried in his chest. Your whole body shook as you cried, pressing your mouth and nose to your fists when it got too loud and painful.

"I know, baby. I know," he said, moving his hand in a circular motion on your back. "I know."

"It... it was a-about Peter," you managed between the hiccups and sobs and breaths. "I miss him so much-"

Tony stared up at the ceiling. "Me too, kid," he sighed.

You weren't there when Peter died, and you still expected him to come home when the snap was over. Tony had to come home with a complete stranger (Nebula) and tell you that Peter didn't make it off of Titan. You had begged to know what happened, who killed him, why they killed him over anyone else in the world-

And he had to tell you that he just vanished.

He didn't tell you about the pain Peter was in when he died, how he felt it coming, how scared he was, how much it hurt as his body struggled to fix itself. He would keep that pain to himself. He wouldn't dare place that on his young daughter.

"I want him back," you said, still sobbing just as hard. Your legs sort of gave out and he had to hold you a little tighter. "I want him back!"

He began clenching his jaw and shut his eyes to block out the utter torture it was to have his daughter fall apart like this.

"I know you do," he whispered, shaking his head. You wailed. "I know, baby. It's okay."

"It's not," you sobbed. "It's not okay anymore, Dad."

"Shhh... I know, I know."

After a while, you got tired enough that he stooped down and put his arm under the backs of your knees. He lifted you into his arms and carried you to your bedroom. You quickly fell asleep, your head rocking slightly against his chest with the movement of his steps.

He placed you on your bed and covered you up with a blanket. He looked at you, clutching the sides of Peter's shirt, and almost burst into tears himself.

He felt like he had no choice but to blame himself for the death of Peter Parker. It was his fault his daughter was so broken, so scared, and so empty.

He leaned down and kissed the side of your head. He smoothed down the wild hairs sticking out of the bun you had your hair up in and then quietly walked out of your room.

He didn't make it three steps down the hall before he stumbled into the wall, catching himself halfway down and burying his face in his hands. The tears started rolling and his chest grew heavy. His arm hurt again (when didn't it hurt nowadays?) and the feelings that often came at the conclusion of his own reoccurring nightmare finally took place.

He slid down the wall and sat, pulling his knees to his chest. The darkness of the hallway ate him up as he cried, the deep voices noises in his throat stifled by his arms.

The kid haunted his dreams, too. While his daughter had nightmares of hearing the news again or seeing him die a hundred feet away from her, Tony had dreams of it happening in his arms, the same way it happened all those months ago.

And lately it was becoming too painful for him to really handle.