threat // peter parker
request from @fragilefrances: Reader keeps getting threats and she keeps it to herself and when she disappears, Peter finds the threats and tries to find her before its too late
word count: 3.3k
a/n: hey guys! this my first time writing a request, so i hope you guys enjoy! i realize i didn’t do exactly what the request said, but i hope it’s still ok (sorry!!). unedited! this will get a part 2 soon! and starting next monday, i begin high school! it should be okay for the first few weeks, but i might get a lil busy so i hope y'all understand! i’ll still write as much as possible <3 and hope you guys enjoy this! warning for threatening and kidnapping themes. <3333
“So I thought about telling her that, y’know, I was kind of in an awkward situation there. But how are you supposed to do that with all these people around?”
“And then she had this idea, right, and I was like, ‘What are you doing?’ and she was getting this empty bottle and she said she wanted to play Spin the Bottle!”
“She knows that I have strict boundaries with that stuff, and she still…” You trail off into silence for a few seconds. “Okay, Pete, I know you don’t care, but give me something to work with here.” You wait for a response, and then check to see if Peter is still on the other end of the line. “Hello?”
“Wait, what did you say?” You sigh audibly at this. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I was…zoned out.”
“It’s okay.” There’s a short pause.
“So what were you telling me?”
“Uh, it’s nothing important. Speaking of which, I’m getting a little tired. I’d better get going.”
“It’s not even eight, how are you tired already?” He sounds confused.
“I stayed up last night. I’ll see you.”
“Uh, okay then. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
You hang up the phone call, feeling discomfort poke at you. Peter’s as close to a best friend you’ll ever have. You know him like the back of your hand. But recently he’s been a little weird around you. He’s always off in his own little world, thinking about something else. It was okay the first few times, but now you hardly have conversations with him anymore. You’re just worried if he’s okay sometimes.
Is this just a thing that happens when people grow apart? You gaze out of your tiny window into the not-so-tiny world. The sun is drowning in the horizon, the fiery orange and red tones fading away into pink, and then into periwinkle blue. The city is noisy, but in this transition between day and night, everything looks beautiful.
You think about talking to Peter. But where would you even begin? How do people have supportive conversations? You’re not very good at being helpful in this kind of situation. You move away from your window and flop onto your bed. You dig around your sheets for a minute before finding your phone. You Google ‘Why is my best friend being distant?’ and scroll through a few pages. If anything, this just depresses you more, so you decide to stop.
You’re about to close your phone when it dings with a text. Is it Peter with another half-assed apology? It seems you’ve been spared from that tonight. You scroll through your conversations, but you don’t see any new texts. You frown when you see an old text. Whoops, you forgot to text a classmate back about a quiz. The quiz that happened today. Yikes.
Well, you’re sure it’s okay. You set your phone aside to do homework. But as soon as you lift your pencil, your phone starts ringing. Without looking at who it is, you pick up, voice firm. “Peter, I’m sleeping. Bye.”
You pause, and then look at who’s really calling you. Whoever it was turned off their caller ID. Uh…weird. Is this a prank call? “Um…hello?” You say cautiously.
The silence hangs for what feels like an eternity. Unsettled, you hang up. You have a notification for a text. You open it.
Unknown: There’s a package waiting for you on your doorstep. Get it within fifteen minutes.
You frown. Is this one of your friends trying to play some sick practical joke on you? “Yeah? Or what?” You mutter to yourself, scoffing.
Unknown: [image attached] Or else something might just happen to him.
Your eyes widen when you look at the picture. It’s Peter, sitting in his bedroom. But…he’s, like, attached to the ceiling. He’s hanging upside down and reading a book. No, this must be digitally edited or something. That’s when you see two things. The digital clock, which reads the time right now: 8:37 PM. And a very familiar looking suit on the floor. The Spider-Man suit. You’ve never been more confused.
You feel a tight knot in your chest. How does this person know who Peter is? How do they know you? Who are they? How do they know that you know Peter? They’re not going to hurt him, are they? Why does Peter have that suit? Christ, is he the Spider-Man that you saw in a YouTube video a few days ago?
You look at your clock. Nearly five minutes have passed already. You don’t want to find out what they’ll do to Peter if you don’t comply, so you quickly stand up and fumble to unlock your door. You race downstairs and past a pair of worried looking mothers.
“Honey, is everything -” You cut one of them off as you step out of the apartment. Sure enough, there’s a small box sitting there. You scoop it up and dash back upstairs with it. You swallow, breathing heavily as you grab your phone. Another message pops up.
Unknown: Good girl. Give it to the hooded boy waiting in the alley by your building at 7:50 AM tomorrow. Don’t talk to him.
You try keep yourself together and think. Do you dare send a message?
You: who are you and how do you know me?
You: how do you know him?
No response. You didn’t really expect one, anyway.
You: you can do anything you want with me. just don’t touch him. please.
You don’t expect a response to that, either, but then, a message pops up.
Unknown: Follow your instructions without hesitation and he will go unharmed.
You set your phone down as you try to process everything. The first thing you do is cry, sobbing uncontrollably while you clutch a pillow to your chest. What do you even do? You want to call Peter, but you’re scared of what might happen. Whoever this is knows how dear he is to your heart. What do they know and what don’t they know? Is anything even private anymore?
You think about every memory you shared with Peter. That one time you ruined his new jeans by throwing a cupcake at him. Or when you sat on the floor and debated over Star Wars fan theories for a whole day. Or the countless nights you stayed up with him on Skype, talking endlessly. Or just a few months ago, when he kissed you and he thought you didn’t feel that way about him even though you did.
He’s not just the friend that went through thick and thin with you. You love him, goddammit. And now you don’t know what to do because you can’t imagine being in a world without him. You can’t even imagine him ever being hurt. At any other point in your life, the possibility that he might be Spider-Man would freak you out more than anything. But right now, you don’t care about any of it. You’re pretty sure that even Spider-Man can’t dodge a bullet when he least expects it.
You try to make yourself feel better about it all. So what, you move around a few packages and then they leave you alone. And then you can carry on with your life and have everything be okay. No biggie.
Still, a dark feeling disturbs you.
Having completely forgotten about your homework, you lay on your bed to sleep. You’re too frightened to sleep with the lights off, so you leave them on as you drift into an uncomfortable slumber. You toss and turn all night, racked with paranoia and fear. You hardly get any sleep. For the longest time, you stare at the ceiling. You just want Peter to be safe. You just want to protect him. The idea of protecting Spider-Man feels silly, but the picture ‘Unknown’ sent you lingers in your head. He’s still a kid, like you. He still has vulnerabilities.
You jolt when your alarm clock goes off, scaring you. You quickly switch it off. 6:30 AM. If you have to give the package to someone at 7:50, you’re going to be late for school. You guess one day won’t be too bad. You scrape your hair out of your face and put on your jeans and t-shirt from yesterday. The t-shirt says “May the force be with you” but the word “force” is replaced with the formula for force. It was a Christmas present from Peter.
At 7:30, you head outside to wait with the package in hand. It’s chillier than you expected, but you manage to stand there for twenty minutes. Goosebumps lines your exposed arms as you look around for the recipient. You realize that you didn’t even stop to think about what was in the box. You were so busy worrying about Peter that you forgot about it. What if you’re carrying meth or crack cocaine or something? What if you’re helping some illegal activity happen?
Just as you start freaking out over it, a hooded figure enters the alley. You’ve never seen the guy before, but he looks young. He can’t be older than seventeen. He stares at you expectantly. You open your mouth to say something but quickly shut it when you remember that you’re not supposed to say anything. You quickly hand over the box. To your surprise, he starts opening it. You watch, lips parted.
You expect him to take out something suspicious-looking, but instead he reveals a knife wrapped in cloth. He unwinds the cloth, and before you can even scream, the boy pins you to the wall. One gloved hand presses tightly over your mouth as you try and yell out. He presses the knife to your throat and you reflexively tilt your head back to try and create some space between your neck and the knife.
Oh god, this is it. This is the end. You think about how you should’ve been a little nicer to your moms, and how you should’ve apologized to a few people. You should’ve told Peter you loved him. And maybe kissed him again. His image flashes in your head. His warm, dark eyes that crinkle when he smiles at you. His soft lips against yours, hungry for something you’ve both wanted for an eternity. The way his dark brown hair flops onto his forehead and escapes the gel when he’s leaning over to work on a project. The look on his face right before he’s about to make a dumb joke that you’ll laugh at anyway. It’s all too sweet to let go of so quickly, but if it means saving him, you’ll do it without hesitation.
And then, as though the guy was having second thoughts, he steps back. He almost looks apologetic, but it might just be the lighting. Your heart’s still pounding out of fear as you fumble for your phone. What the hell?
Unknown: Wait until further instruction.
You look back up to yell at the boy, but he’s vanished. You glance into the darkening alley, and then out towards the street. Great, you don’t want your life threatened again anyway. You check the time. It’s nearly 8:10, and you’re already missing first period. You race out to go to school.
In second period English, Peter side eyes you the whole time, like he normally does. You normally do the same, but you can’t seem to bring yourself to look at him today. Your phone is on your lap in case you get a text.
Is he really Spider-Man? You tune out the entire class, until the teacher walks up to you. “Y/N, are you alright?” You jolt slightly in surprise when you see her.
“Uh, yeah, I’m fine,” you say quickly, tripping over your words.
“You didn’t seem to hear me for the past five minutes. Where’s your homework?” You’re acutely aware that the whole class is staring at you, including Peter. Your cheeks redden in embarrassment when you realize you didn’t do it last night. What are you supposed to say?
“U-Uh, I left it at, um, home.” Your voice is quiet as you look down, your face burning up. Everyone’s going to think you’re stupid and you don’t take school seriously. They’re going to think that instead of doing my homework last night, you were at Flash’s party getting drunk, and that’s why you’re being weird now. Ha. As if you’d even get invited.
You spend the rest of class being extremely embarrassed as you try and participate more. At the end of class, Peter walks up to you. Dejected, you try and walk past him, but he blocks your path. You step around him, but he’s too quick. He grabs you by the arms this time, but then lets go when you show obvious discomfort. You walk out of the classroom, Peter right beside you. “What’s up with you?” He asks.
“Nothing,” you murmur, slightly annoyed.
“Oh, so you mean nothing as in totally ignoring me, having bags under your eyes, and not doing your homework for once in a blue moon. You look like you saw a ghost, you’re scared out of your damn mind. So don’t give me this bullshit about nothing being wrong, Y/N.” Is he mad at you? Suddenly, it seems silly to think he was the same person you fell in love with months ago. He seems completely different. The Peter you know wouldn’t get mad at you. His expression softens when he sees yours. “I’m sorry.”
“No, you know what, Parker, what’s wrong with you?”
By now, the halls are nearly clear except for those skipping. “What are you talking about?” Peter asks, confused. He looks kind of upset, because he knows you’re serious when you call him by his last name.
“You know what I’m talking about. You hardly talk to me, and you’re never paying attention when you do. If you don’t fricking like being around me, then tell me and I’ll leave you the hell alone! I thought we were best friends, and I thought that meant you could tell me anything. But whenever I ask, you say it’s nothing and I’ve been trying so hard to believe it. Because I trust you to tell me the truth when you think it’s time. But then the moment I start acting weird too, you just have to push it. Maybe I have my own secrets too. Did you ever think about that too? Maybe I put on a suit and I leap around kicking ass, too.” You spread your arms out, the angry look on your face quickly breaking apart. Peter’s eyes are wide as he stares, in complete shock. You can’t bring yourself to say anything else. You wipe the tears that start spilling from your eyes.
Peter tries to pull you into a hug, but you shove him away as hard as you can. Spider-Man can take a push, can’t he? But he winces anyway, simply watching as you walk away. You check your phone, and your heart pangs in your chest at the message.
Unknown: Don’t speak to him again.
You’ve never felt more alone, but at the same time, you can never truly be alone. You can’t even talk to Peter anymore, isolating you from the one person that matters most to you. But now you’re sure they’re watching you somehow. They’re watching your every footstep, they’re listening to your every word.
You instantly feel bad for yelling at Peter, as you always do whenever you get upset at him. You just can’t control your emotions around him anymore. For some reason, this all makes you want to protect him more.
God, you hate everything. You hate Peter for what he does but love him for who he is, which is a confusing thing all on its own. And he’s Spider-Man. And you’re doing scary ass things under the promise of his safety.
Your fingers brush against your throat. There isn’t a cut there or anything. Huh, maybe the knife just wasn’t that sharp.
Your phone pings with instructions to retrieve a box. For the next few hours, you’re forced to skip school as you obediently follow seemingly random orders. Thankfully, you don’t get any more knives shoved to your throat again. You just move things around, and you don’t even have to deliver things to anyone.
Over the course of the day, you start to calm down a little. It’s only now that you begin to question the person’s motive of threatening you with Peter. Do they want something from you? Or something from Peter? Peter is more likely, with him being Spider-Man and all. But all Spider-Man does is stop robbers and help old ladies out. He just doesn’t seem like a person worth targeting for the reason that he might be a threat to criminals.
You’ve had missed calls from him all day. He must be wondering where you went, but every time you even get the urge to call back, you remember the harsh warning you were given to not talk to him. He sent you tons of texts, too.
Peter: where are you???
Peter: y/n please!! i’m worried about you, just tell me you’re safe and i’ll stop.
Peter: i know you’re mad and you don’t care, but i really care. just tell me if you’re home or something. i won’t come visit you if you don’t want me to. i just need to know if you’re in a safe place. that’s it.
Messages like this continue on until a few scrolls. Finally, they come to a stop and then Ned texts you.
Ned: Hey Y/N Peter looks like he’s going to have a panic attack
Ned: It’s really bad and he won’t listen to me
Ned: Just tell him you’re okay so he’ll stop freaking out
Ned: Dude you realize he’ll put on his suit and try and find you if you don’t respond soon right
You take a deep breath and look away, pained inside. You don’t want to think about Peter getting anxiety over you. At least he’s alive. And when all of this is over, you can tell him everything and he’ll understand. Because he’d do the same for you. That’s just the kind of people you and Peter are. Your thoughts are cut off when you see you got a message from ‘Unknown’.
Unknown: Go back to the alleyway by your apartment and wait.
Unknown: This is the last message you will receive.
Something about this feels weird to you. Wait for what? This is a vague message, which is unusual considered the pattern of very specific messages. Nonetheless, you begin making your way home. Your phone keeps buzzing with messages, probably from Ned. You keep yourself going with only one thought in mind. It’s almost over. Just one more thing to do, and then it’s all over. You just hope Peter will be okay.
You finally get to the alleyway as the sun moves downward. It won’t be sunset for a few hours, unfortunately, but it’s not like you would be able to see it from down here anyway. You’re nervous, and there’s a very odd feeling in your gut. It’s giving you a very clear message. RUN. You ignore it, looking over your shoulder to see if anyone’s coming. No one.
You wait there for a while, realizing how exhausted you are from running around the city all day. You probably have so much homework to catch up on, and you owe an explanation for not showing up to most of your classes. Your phone buzzes again, and you finally look at it.
Mom: Honey, why did your mother and I get an email saying that you didn’t go to any of your classes other than English today?
Mom: You know that you can talk to us about anything. You can tell us the truth.
Shit. You are so screwed when you go home. You quickly start thinking of excuses, because you obviously can’t tell them the truth in this situation. As you worry over this, you don’t notice that someone is behind you.
Suddenly, you feel metal clang against your skull, and you’re gone. You drop the ground instantaneously, unconscious.