Tom Holland Imagines

Kidnapped (Peter Parker)

[FYI Peter and you are adults in this. Proceed. ~M]

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*Peter's POV*

     "Dadda? Can you sing another song? I'm not tired yet!" My daughter whines, pulling me down by my tie. I laugh, and lay down next to her. She cuddles her small body against my chest, and I sing a very brief lullaby. I kiss her forehead before getting up. She gives me a small wave as I head for the door. She closes her eyes and rolls over, finally going to sleep. I shut the door nearly all the way, before quietly making my way to the master bedroom. I shut the door behind me, and sigh.

     "How'd it go? Did you get her to sleep?" My wife, (Y/N), asks from our bed. She's already in her pajamas and under the covers.

     "Yeah. Ella made me sing about 20 different songs though." I chuckle, taking off my tie and unbuttoning my shirt. I change into pajamas, and crawl into bed next to (Y/N). I pull her body against mine, and wrap my arms around her so that we are spooning.

     "She loves when you sing to her. Why don't you sing for me?" (Y/N) sasses, rolling over to face me. I admire her beautiful, makeupless face. I'm always reminded of how lucky I am to have her, and that a woman as perfect as her loves me.

     "Well, because when I sing you tease me!"

    "That's so not true, Peter Parker!" She gasps, but leans in to kiss me anyway. I smile when she pulls away.

    "I love you—" I begin, but then I hear it, the sound of shattering glass. My heart stops, and I can see the look of horror on (Y/N)'s face. I'm up and running within a second, and I hear (Y/N)'s footsteps behind me as we run down the hall. I throw the door to our 3 year old daughter's room open, and I hear (Y/N) choke on a sob behind me. The room is completely trashed, the window shattered as rain pours in, and our baby's bed is empty. The sheets were thrown onto the floor in a rushed heap.

     "Peter, what—who—" (Y/N) is hyperventilating behind me. I run to the window and stare out into the night, but see no one on the street below.

     "Fuck. Fuck!" I scream, as I frantically search the room for our daughter.

     "Peter! She's not in here!" My wife is crying now, and scrambles for her phone to call 911.

     "Dmitri. It was Dmitri." I whisper.

     "What?"

     "The Chameleon! The fucking Chameleon! He figured out who I am outside of the suit, (Y/N). He figured out how to get to me." I scream angrily, throwing a chair and startling my wife.

     "Peter, how dangerous is he?"

     "He's not the one I'm necessarily worried about, it's his half-brother." I murmur.

     "Who's his half brother?"

     "Kraven the Hunter. He gets that name because there's one thing he hunts more than anything else—one person he focuses on...me." I tell her, and she goes silent. I kiss her tear stained cheek before running out of the room and equipping my suit. I slide out of the hall window just as the sound of sirens fill the neighborhood.

      Once I've reached the ground, a phone call sounds through my suit. I answer it, but continue to run down the street.

     "Mr. Parker," a thickly Russian accent speaks through the phone call.

     "Kraven—what have you done with my daughter?" I can barely hold my emotions back, but it try to hide it in my voice.

     "Your daughter is safe...but I can't say the same about your wife." He states, and I freeze.