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The night was dark as you and Peter Parker walked down the dimly lit streets of New York City. You had just gotten done seeing a movie at a movie theatre and were both giggling your way home. Little did you both know that danger lurked just around the corner.
A van screeched to a halt beside you and Peter. Before you guys could react, masked figures jumped out, grabbing you forcefully. Your head got banged on the van as they tried to push you in.
"Help! Let us go! Help!" you shouted, struggling against your captors. But your efforts were in vain as a cloth was placed over your mouth, causing you to lose consciousness.
When you regained consciousness, you found yourself in a dimly lit room, your hands bound together with cold metal cuffs. The throbbing pain in your head reminded you of the force with which you had been struck. Panic and fear flooded your senses as you surveyed your surroundings.
Across the room, you noticed your boyfriend, also bound and unconscious, slumped against a wall. Relief washed over you, knowing he was still alive and unmarked by blood or bruises. You watched Peter groggily regain consciousness.
"Peter, are you okay?" you whispered, concern lacing your voice.
"I'm... I'm fine," he replied weakly, his voice strained.
The captors, dressed in black attire, masks and all, entered the room. One of them sneered, relishing the power they held over their captives.
As the captor approached, his sadistic intentions evident, you summoned all your courage and locked eyes with him.
"Leave him alone," you hissed, your voice trembling but filled with unwavering determination.
The captor's laughter filled the room, mocking your defiance. "Oh, how valiant of you, my dear. But your words mean nothing to me."
He motioned to his henchmen, who closed in on Peter. Panic surged within you, and with a surge of adrenaline, you fought against your restraints. You couldn’t let your boyfriend get hurt.
“Please, do anything you want! Just leave him alone!” you cried out. In hindsight, those probably weren’t the best words to use in a room full of men, but you weren’t thinking straight and were desperate.
“Anything?” he smirked, slowly twisting around to look you up and down. Peter must have caught onto what he was implying before your jumbled mind could.
“No! Don’t you dare! I swear if you lay a hand on her I’ll—” Peter yelled, thrashing in his restraints. He’d rather die than let them have you. You, his precious girlfriend that didn’t deserve any of this.
“Shut him up! Make sure he doesn’t look away.” The captor turns to Peter, addressing him. “This is what you get for meddling with things you don’t understand.”
Peter’s eyes went wide as a resounding smack sounded in the room. Tears pooled in his eyes as he heard your shocked whimper. He struggled some more to no avail. He was helpless. He had to watch his girlfriend, the love of his life, get tortured. “It’s okay, Peter. I can handle it,” you all but whispered. Just loud enough that you knew he’d be able to hear it.
He felt like an absolute failure as he watched the men put their hands on you.
Your cries were drowned out by Peter's screams as he watched you get beaten. Hot, crimson liquid seeped from your wounds. You kept trying to break free, but you were losing strength. His heart sank even deeper at the thought of the possibility that you wouldn’t make it out alive. It hurt him.
Peter wasn’t the one getting tortured—so why did it feel like someone had stabbed him in the heart, twisting it violently? And why did it feel like his guts had been torn to shreds?
Peter wasn’t the type to murder. He never wanted to ever kill someone. That being said, seeing those hands on you made him think things he had never thought before.
One evening, while the captors were away, Peter finally managed to loosen his restraints. His wrists might have had deep cuts on them, but it was worth it for you. Anything for you. Peter quickly freed you, your weakened body struggling to stand.
"Sweetheart, we need to find a way out of here," Peter whispered, his voice filled with both determination and concern.
Hand in hand, you both silently navigated the dimly lit corridors, evading the patrolling guards.
Together you found the nearest town. Tony had flown personally to retrieve you both. You both received the best medical attention money could buy. Not wanting to be separated, you both managed to get Mr. Stark to put your beds in the same room in the med bay. Your connection was more than just friendship—it was an unbreakable bond, woven with trust and a shared purpose.
Peter had apologised until his face turned blue, having been able to get out of the hospital bed sooner than you—having endured a fracture, multiple abrasions, bruises like no other, and the list didn’t stop there.
He hated the fact that they hurt you to get to him. It was eating at him.
Nevertheless, you continuously reassured him that you didn’t blame him. That he did all he could and that was enough for you. As long as you both were safe and sound, you were happy.