Peter Parker/Tom Holland Imagines {REQUESTS CLOSED}

Trust - PP

Okay wtf. I think I may have literally lost the ability to accurately name chapters. Oh well.

"Y/n," Peter groaned, throwing his head back. "For the last time, I'll be careful! Jesus Christ. I mean, I do this every night, why don't you trust me?"

You shot your husband of two months a glance. He was sitting, knees spread on one end of the sofa, while you sat on the other, legs curled underneath you, a fuzzy blanket shielding you from any chills.

"I trust you," you mumbled unconvincingly, looking down at your hands.

"No, you really don't! I mean, nothing's changed! And yet you're all on edge about a fucking nightly patrol?" Peter's harsh words made you flinch.

But you knew that something had changed. That six hours ago, you took your third pregnancy test, coming up positive.

The first two had as well, but you were aching to start a family, and didn't want to get your hopes up.

Peter was just as eager as you were, but you didn't know how to tell him. Earlier, you'd thought it was easy. 'Pete, I'm pregnant'. But the minute he walked in the door, smiling at you, you froze. Deciding to delay it till tomorrow, you bit your lip, only pleading with him that he'd take good care on his nightly patrol.

"I'm just- please be careful," you reiterated, as he rolled his eyes.

"Nah, I think I'll go out and try and get killed thanks," he said sarcastically. "What is your deal today? You know, you've been acting weird since I got home."

"Yeah, well you've been acting like a dick since this conversation started."

"A what?" He looked at you with wide eyes.

"A dick Peter, you've been acting like a dick. I don't get it, why can't you just understand that I'm only concerned for your well being?"

"Because I'm sick of you acting like I'm incapable!"

"I don't think you're incapable Pete! I just wish you'd listen to me!"

"You know what Y/n, now I'm sick of listening to you. I have to go now." He huffed, pushing himself off the couch.

"Where are you going?" You screamed after him as he shuffled over to your bedroom.

"Out," he muttered, suddenly in his suit. Walking past you without the faintest goodbye, he climbed out the window to the fire escape.

The familiar whoosh of his webshooters told you that he was gone.

Sighing to yourself, you continued your evening alone.

Peter stumbled into your bedroom well past three in the morning. His mask was lifted up on his face as high as his tired arms could muster.

"Y/n... Y/n," He croaked, collapsing in a heap on the carpet next to the bed.

"Mhmm," you stirred in your sleep, barely fazed by Peter's presence.

"Y/n, help," he repeated louder, reaching up with all his strength to shake your arm.

"Wha- Peter?" You asked groggily, turning on the lamp next to you. "Oh my God!" You screamed, seeing your husband's dark red blood soak through his lighter coloured suit. "What happened?"

"Bad guys... too many pocket knives... kinda got stabbed... a few times..." he groaned, rolling over.

Ignoring the way his blood stained the cream carpet, you tore his mask off, revealing a flushed Peter.

Pressing the metallic spider, his suit went baggy, allowing you to shake it off his limp body.

"Oh my G..." you trailed off, looking at his scarred body. Three large thrashes adorned the front of his torso, seeping red.