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rancidpancakebatter · 2 years

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In the Name of Good | Prt 2 -[P.P.]

Pairings: Dark!Yandere!Peter Parker x Female!Reader

Summary: The cat's out of the bag, so how do you proceed?

Word Count: 5.2k words

Content: MINORS DNI: 18+

Swearing, Mentions of Murder, Mentions of emesis, Smut, Oral (f and m receiving), P in V sex, choking, multiple orgasms, Daddy Kink

( Part 1 | Masterlist )

A/N: The long-awaited sequel which is really just porn with a plot. I'm not sure if this will be a complete story but I may update it every now and then.

Peter's darkness is much more subtle in this piece so there are no major warnings this time around.

Happy Holloween you whores <3

The early light creeps through your window, the golden rays kissing your skin. You stretch your fingers toward the carnelian beams and let your fingers dance in the sundust. You bask in the peace of the morning. As the sun rises it brings a new dawn, a new day. Who knew what you would do today? You could do anything. Today felt like a shopping day. It seems nice out and you could feel stress sitting in your bones, a deep ache pulling at your muscles.

You stretch before opening your blinds. That’s odd, you don’t remember closing them. You look at the house across the street. Peter’s car sits in front of the house; if you squint your eyes, you can see him through the window. He sits perched in his desk chair, twirling a pencil as he examines a piece of paper.

Something felt…off about this morning. It was something you couldn’t quite place but this morning brought a certain uneasiness. It was something you hoped a hot shower could fix.

You let the steam ease your tired bones as you soaked in the eucalyptus sent. As you scrubbed your brain spiralled. What had happened? Why couldn’t you remember? Your brain felt fuzzy as flashes of intangible moments congested your mind.

You had been afraid. You remember the nausea that accompanied it. The knocked-over bottles on the sink were all too real to ignore. Peter was there. Had you been afraid of him? No! You shook your head trying to fling that thought to the farthest corner, somewhere it couldn’t hurt you again. Along with thoughts of dog tags, of headphones, of a twisted smile warped by shadows.

Peter was here. Or rather you were there, with him, in his room. It was dark. Flashes of white cloud your mind. Harsh lines against the wall, you could feel them on your skin. As if somehow a part of you, intertwined with your being.

You wiped the fog from the mirror and felt that familiar feeling of dread. It wasn’t a nightmare. Peter had…hurt people. He had killed them. And he- he hurt you. Purple stars on your shoulder, constellations woven into your skin to tell a tale of horror. You traced the bruises in abhorrence, the pads of his fingers left behind as a warning.

You fell to the floor as everything washed over you once again. The chilled ceramic did nothing to soothe you. Like Eve, you had been brought to your knees by the tree of knowledge. Was it worth it? Every question you had ever had, answered by a cracked doorway that you carelessly ploughed through. You had tasted the flesh of the apple against your lips and now it was too late to go back.

You paced your room as your mind reeled. Peter was a murderer. You should then turn him in. You knew, you had the evidence, you should turn him in. But would that be enough? Would it be enough to stop him? Would it be enough to absolve you?

As much as you hated to think about it, you already knew. You had recognised there was a darkness in Peter even when you were children. The way his reactions almost seemed rehearsed. The way he wouldn’t bat an eye at someone else’s misfortune. But you had labelled it as bravery. The way he would blindly charge into danger if you were in harm's way. The way he would run to May’s aid, big or small. The way he would clean your bumps and scrapes with nothing but a smile on his face.

You looked at the pictures that adorned your bedroom wall. Peter had insisted on helping you hang them up. He had given you two stacks of photos one day in the warm July heat. You sat in your room between fans and your open window ushering in the humid breeze. Peter’s presence was a comfort then, as you looked through memories frozen in time.

Now as you looked around all you saw was him. What was once a comforting remark now haunted you as you gazed into his empty eyes. “This way I can watch over you. I can always be here. I can always see you.”

I can always see you. You felt suffocated under his dead gaze. There was nowhere you could go, nowhere you could hide. He was everywhere.

You moved to open the window, hoping some fresh air would help. The light of the sun cradled you in a blanket of warmth. The chirping birds sing in melodies and harmonies alike as they skate through the sky. You close your eyes focusing instead on everything else.

Peter watches in wonder as you absorb the world around you. He had been trying to give you space. He knew you would come around, he just had to give it some time. Let you wrestle with this for a bit before catching you in his arms. He knows that you would never leave him. He knew it was only a matter of time before you would call him or knock on his door. He just had to wait. He could do that.

He sat camera faced at you, watching as your fingers pulled out the braid he had carefully crafted for you. He watched as you paced your room, hugging yourself close. He watched as you stared at the wall, tracing the shape of his face with a shaky hand. He watched as you went to the window, ripping it open and gasping for air.

He joined you there, a street away. Your eyes were closed and your hair billowed in the wind as you drank in the sunlight. You were what ancient poets wrote of. You were his Ithica. His rock, his home, his love, his life. And you were so beautiful.

You raised your head, opening your eyes, only to find Peter staring right at you. You felt a swirling of emotions in your gut. You were looking at pure evil, someone who killed to kill, someone who liked to kill. You were looking at someone who a few hours ago had no qualms about killing you.

Your stare was expressionless, something that perplexed Peter. You usually wore your heart on your sleeve and every thought on your brow. But now, as he looked into your eyes, he couldn’t tell what you were thinking. He didn’t appreciate being out of the know. You had suddenly become an unknown variable in an equation he knew quite well.

You tried to look at him objectively. You took in the way the sun seemed to melt into his skin, leaving stark shadows by the bulb of his nose and under the cut of his jaw. If someone told you that he had been carved from marble at the hands of Michelangelo, you would believe them. He was well-defined, every muscle and bone clear in the rays of the sun, but there was a softness to his edges that made him look feathered, almost holy.

You had never stared Peter down before. He was seeing in you a boldness that he had yet to experience. He wasn’t sure if it was something he liked. You held a certain coldness that he was unfamiliar with. How odd.

Peter tilted his head and you mindlessly mimicked it. You were attempting to break him down to a microscopic level, to judge his very molecules. Peter was dark but was he evil? This is what you were trying to solve. As you stared at him you thought back to every moment you had shared, tearing each memory to shreds, looking for anything that would tell you Peter was bad.

You came up with a lot of ambitious greys. He had killed someone, several someones, but some of those murders were somewhat justifiable. He had killed pets. That was not good but better than killing people. He had been fascinated with the macabre but that made him fantastic to watch horror movies with. He had been cold to others but always showed you great kindness. He could display tremendous violence but you had only seen it in your defence. A vicious knight in shining armour coming to rescue you with bared teeth and bloody knuckles.

You pulled away from the window leaving it open as you made your way down the stairs. Peter watched in curiosity as you marched your way across the street, not sparing him a single glance. He heard your determined steps and opened his door to you.

You wrapped your arms around his waist, burying your head in his shirt. You couldn’t separate Peter from his actions. To lose any of him would be to lose him all. Your nails dug into his back as you blinked back tears. No. You were not going to lose him. Not today, not ever. Your Peter.

“Aw, little lamb. What’s wrong?” He pulled you closer as you shook your head. How could you put it into words? How could you tell him that he was every boogeyman you feared but also the only solace from this waking nightmare?

You pulled away with tears of anger. He looked at you confused and everything spilt over. You banged your hand against his chest.

How could he?

You brought your hand down again.

He did this

And again.

You did this

And again

He did it for you

And again

And you let him

And again

For years

And again

You let him

You raised your fist another time, not nearly close to done, but Peter grabbed your wrist, stopping you. You struggled against him but his hold was strong, too strong to fight. Your wave of anger passed and left you with true exhaustion. You collapsed against him, small whimpers falling from your lips.

He held you to his chest as you continued to cry. You focused on the beating of his heart, his hand tracing shapes on your back, his breath on your shoulder, the sweet cooing in your ear. This was Peter. This was the boy you loved. The one holding you and telling you everything was going to be okay.

It wasn’t enough. You needed more. More of his gentle touches and reassuring words. You needed to feel him, to know he was real and here. You wrapped your arms around his neck and he caught your legs as you jumped.

“It’s okay, little lamb, I gotcha.” And you believed him. He always had you. He always made it better. If you were with Peter everything would be okay. You buried your head into the crook of his neck, inhaling the woodsy smell of pine and cedar. It still wasn’t enough. You pulled yourself closer, your hands now in his hair and legs trapping him in a vice grip. You squeezed and squeezed, knowing he could take it. You just needed more.

You felt a hand on your head and another wrapped around your back. It seemed like he was trying to reciprocate and the thought brought you a sliver of serenity. He moved to the bed, sitting you down on his lap and continued to pet your hair. All too soon he was breaking away and you couldn’t help the cry you let out. His hands found your face, lifting it to meet his gaze.

“Little lamb, I can’t help you if you don't tell me what’s wrong.” The knot in his brows seemed real, as did the way he tensed his jaw.

“I- I can’t-” You gulped helplessly for air but it felt as though someone had poked a hole in your lung. “I-You can’t- You can’t leave me!”

You were gripping wildly at his shirt, trying to bring him closer, but his hold on your face kept you far away. He brought his lips to your forehead and everything stopped. For just a moment the clouds had parted and your mind cleared, but then he broke away and the fear swallowed you whole.

In an act of delirium, you moved a hand from his shoulder to his neck. You felt the small goose bumps under the pads of your fingers, the drum of his steady pulse under your palm. It soothed you. You moved your hand lower, stretching his neckline as you reached for his pec, his heart.

“Hey, hey, I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.” His hand on your wrist stopped you once again and you wanted to scream. His touch brought back that semblance of peace and in the quiet of your mind, you were able to piece together what you needed.

Your eyes were filled with desperation, for what Peter couldn’t tell. He wanted to fix it. He could hear your heart thrumming, the small thing fluttering in your chest.

“Please I…” Your mouth felt dry and your tongue heavy. “I need to feel you.”

Peter froze. His mind was picking your words apart, dissecting each syllable. He thought he would explode. He looked over your frame, your heavy breathing and shaky hands. This is it. This is what he’s been waiting for. You would fall in love with him today. He was determined.

He let go of your hands, placing his own on your waist. “Do whatever you need.”

You reached for his shirt and he helped you get it off. Your fingers traced the muscle and scars. He was so pretty. You needed more, more contact. You moved to take off your shirt and Peter watched in awe as you revealed yourself to him.

You wrapped yourself around him, hands tracing the planes of his back, massaging the muscle under your palms. Peter’s hands were running up and down your back in comforting circles.

His fingers began toying with the clasp of your bra listening for your reaction. He noticed the way your heart beat faster and your breath caught in your throat. He slipped the annoying fabric off your shoulders and gathered all the strength he had. You were on his lap, pressed against him. All of his late-night fantasies were coming to fruition and he had to stop himself from pinning you to the bed and fucking you like an animal. He had to be slow, and careful.

You pulled yourself closer, head buried in his neck as your nose played with his pulse point. Peter trailed his shaking hands to your ass, squeezing it. You let out a soft moan and Peter could scream. He could feel you against him. He could pick up on the small pulse in your clit, the new warmth in your core against his waist.

He trailed his hand down further, rubbing at your thigh, and you whined again. His fingers found your chin, lifting you to see him eye to eye. His palm flattened against your cheek and you nuzzled into it, lost in the warmth of his touch. Peter’s willpower was hanging by a thread and you were doing very little to keep him strong.

“Little lamb, do you want me to make you feel better?” His other hand skated a path on the inside of your thigh. “Do you want me to fix it?”

You nodded your head, the sheer force of it rattling your brain. He was gonna fix it. Peter knew you better than anyone and you knew he would give you what you needed, even if you weren’t sure what that was right now. But Peter would know. He always knew and he always fixed it.

He brought his lips to yours and you felt the rapture in his touch. His grip on your thigh grounded you in the moment. His lips were dry and cracked, the dead skin threatening to cut you open but god if it didn’t make you feel things. His thumb pulled at your chin, opening your mouth to him. His tongue explored forth and you pushed yours forward trying to meet it. The kiss was awkward and lacking a certain grace but neither of you cared.

He turned to the side, placing your back on the bed and slotting himself between your legs. You tried to pull him down and he let you guide him. With all of his weight on you, you began to feel a little better. Peter was becoming more and more tangible.

His hands skated across your ribs then in towards your boobs. You moaned at the feeling of him holding you in his big hands. Peter’s kisses left your face to join his deft fingers. You had never felt like this before, like you were on fire but also like ice was running through your veins. Peter was both dousing the fire and adding petrol to the flames. It was intoxicating.

He took a nipple in his mouth and worried it with his teeth. He was delighted when he felt you buck underneath him. He marked them as much as he could, while his hands worked on getting your jeans off. He wanted everyone to know they were his. Not Noah’s, not Micheal’s, not Morrissey’s, and certainly not Blake’s.

No, no, this was all Peter’s. You belonged to him, well before this moment. You were always his. He knew he would make it so, that one day he saw you sitting on the curb. He knew then that you would be his. He spent years instilling this thought in your head. Years of meticulous planning and discreet word choice all leading to this moment. You would be his forever.

He pulled down your jeans like he had many times before, but this time a new aroma surrounded him. It was all-consuming. Peter’s eyes darkened and you almost didn’t recognise the man in front of you. Without a single warning, he was gripping your thighs, pulling them apart to make space for his face.

You felt his tongue against the crotch of your panties and it felt like he had shocked you with a twelve-volt battery. You gripped the sheets as he started making out with clothed pussy. His name tumbled from your lips and he had never heard a more sacrosanct sound. It brought him back to the moment.

He had almost forgotten that you were awake. He didn’t have to be careful, he could indulge in everything you had to offer, and he planned to drown. He ripped your panties, the elastic snapping under his powerful grip. He placed his thumbs on your mound, pulling your lips apart to fully soak in the treasure before him.

He ran his nose from your quivering hole to your clit, breathing in the aphrodisiac that is you. Your hips bucked again and Peter couldn’t help grinding into the mattress. He ate you out like a starved man at a Golden Coral.

You couldn’t keep track of where he was. He was sucking on your clit, then thrusting his tongue inside you, then he was in both places at the same time. Your brain was melting in pleasure and Peter could tell you were close. He wasn’t exactly sure how but he just knew and the thought spurred him on more. He brought a finger to your cunt and watched as your toes curled.

“Petey, I feel, I feel weird” Peter could have came just then. His imagination ran wild at the thought of you never coming before. And he would be the first person, the only person, to make you do so.

“It’s okay little lamb, you’ll feel better I promise. Just let it go.” He put another finger in you and it hurt, but the way he was pumping them so fast had your mind spinning. He went back to attacking your clit and you felt an unfamiliar snap in your abdomen. It was like you were seeing colour for the first time. You let out a scream as you came and Peter slowly came to a stop.

You saw him grinning between your legs before he dipped his head down once again. He pinned down your legs to keep you from squirming as his tongue entered you again. You could feel the muscle as it scrapped against your walls. He brought his thumb back to your clit and started running it in a circle. You couldn’t breathe.

“Pete, Pete, it’s too much.” He just went harder and your back arched. Your hand flew to his hair, tugging on it, trying to pull him away. You felt him grunt into you as it reverberated through you. You felt that feeling in the pit of your gut again and you focused on Peter’s instructions. You felt your legs start to straighten and you were panting, music to Peter’s ears. You came again and Peter wasted no time licking it up.

You lay there lifeless against his pillows, trying to catch your breath. You felt Peter stand and you turned to watch him slip off his pants. He stood before you, a Grecian god. His hard-on was reaching to his belly button, red and shiny.

You sat up immediately. You had never seen a penis before, not in person at least. A few years ago Peter had introduced you to porn but it wasn’t really your thing.

“Look what you did to me little lamb.” Your heart fell through the floor. He grabbed your hand placing it on the shaft. It felt heavy in your palm, and you started stroking it.

“Does it…hurt?” You had heard guys at school talking about having erections. You had heard them talking about how sometimes it hurt and how cruel these girls were for making them hurt. You didn’t want Peter to hurt.

“A little bit,” was all he said. You bit your lip, the guilt eating away at you.

“I want to help. How can I help?” Peter put a hand on your face, his thumb tracing the hallow of your cheek. It then tracked its way to your lip, pulling it from your teeth before quickly replacing it.

You swirled your tongue around his thumb, sucking it in further. Peter threw his head back in a moan and you stopped.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you!” You were doing this all wrong. You had caused Peter pain and you couldn’t fix it. Why couldn’t you fix him the way he fixed you? Peter only chuckled and you couldn’t understand what was so funny about you being a bad friend.

“It’s okay little lamb, it didn’t hurt. It felt really nice.” You beamed at him and the pride in your eyes made him feral.

“Really?” Of course, you were a pleaser. It would only make sense. This new revelation gave him so much more ammo. God, you were too good to be true. It was like he built you in a lab. In a way he kind of had.

“Yes, you’ve been such a good girl.” You preened at his words.

“Can you keep being a good girl for me?” You nodded your head and Peter used his thumb to pull your mouth open again.

“Stick your tongue out for me, yeah just like that, now breath through your nose.” You followed his instructions as he grabbed your hair, bringing you closer and closer to his member.

It felt heavy on your tongue, and a little tangy too. You wrapped your lips around him, tracing a prominent vein with your tongue. Peter threw his head back again and this time you continued. After a bit you felt his hand pull on your hair, pulling you away from his cock before slamming it back down. You choked around him and he kept you there, his other hand rubbing your cheek.

“There you go, there you go. You gotta breathe through your nose. Just relax, yeah. You’re doing so good for me little lamb.” You focused on his words, trying to follow his instruction. He moved your head back and forward again falling into a steady rhythm. He was hitting the back of your throat with every thrust, you could feel a sore spot where his tip kept hitting.

Above you, Peter was a panting mess. He was babbling and you felt proud of yourself for doing that to him. He was singing you praises about how good you felt, the great job that you were doing. He looked down at you and that was his reckoning. You were peering up at him, dick in your mouth and a slobbering mess. He saw the tears running down your cheeks and it took all of his strength to pull you away.

One day he would fuck that pretty face of yours but he couldn’t now. His goal was to make you fall in love with him. He had to show you how good he was at pleasuring you. He had to show you that he knew what you needed, what you wanted. He had to show you that he was the only person that could do that for you.

You pulled away with a soft pop and a smile. “Was that good?”

Peter brought you into a bruising kiss and you could taste the both of you. The blend was intoxicating. “Oh baby, you did so well.”

He was pushing you back into the bed as a hand moved back down to your core. His fingers moved around in the slick and you purred.

“Look at you little lamb, I just cleaned you up. Did you like sucking on Daddy’s dick like that, hmm?” You nodded your head, biting your lip in an attempt to lessen your grin.

His lips found the side of your neck, licking and biting on the supple skin. “Well you did such a good job, I think it’s only fair Daddy pay it forward.”

You tangled your hands in his hair, running the smooth locks through your fingers. “No, it’s okay. I wanna make you feel good.”

His fingers found your abused clit and you arched your back into him. “Oh little lamb, It’ll make me feel so much better.”

He pulled away as you looked at him through heavy eyelids. “Do you promise, Daddy?”

Peter growled before attacking you. His kiss was heavy making you lose any train of thought.

“Promise.” You felt a blinding pain in your core. Your nails racked up his back as you grasp for the air he seemed to have pushed out of you.

“Shh, shh, it’s okay. It’ll feel better in a moment.” He kissed away the tears running down your face, massaging your breast. He began pulling out slowly leaving only his tip, then slammed back into you. The pain was beginning to subside or maybe it was just him working your clit and hitting something in you that made your toes curl.

He grabbed one of your legs, bringing your ankle to his shoulder, pushing himself deeper. A moan ripped from your throat, as you felt him hit your cervix, over and over. You reached for his face, needing to kiss him. Wanting all of him. You needed to drown in everything Peter Parker could give you.

His hand found the back of your neck once again. You clung to him as his thumb traced its way down your jugular. He could feel it drumming against his skin, he pushed against it, fascinated by you. You suddenly felt airy, your mind was swimming and your senses were heightened. Peter felt the way you tightened around him and the way your heart picked up.

He brought his hand to the front of your throat, adjusting his grip, before applying more pressure. You moaned as he continued to piston into you. The coil in your abdomen was moments from snapping, your legs were tensing on their own accord. You were no longer in control, not that you ever were.

Peter had bewitched you. You weren't sure when but you looked into his eyes and knew that it must have happened. Your vision was getting blurry, with tears or lack of oxygen you weren’t sure. You heard Peter whisper something to you, something you couldn't quite make out past the sound of heavy breathing and skin slapping against skin. Then his fingers released you. The sudden rush of oxygen to your brain made you feel dizzy, your nerves alight. You came with a gasp and Peter didn’t slow down for a single second.

He continued slamming into you as you lay there limp, unable to do much more. He flipped you over on your face and grabbed your hips, setting them upright. He kissed along your spine before entering you again. You cried out into the pillows, he was so big and so deep inside you. You wondered for a moment if the constant rocking had affected your brain.

He was using your body and you didn’t hate it. He gave you all the praise you could hope for and you got to sit there and take it. It seemed like a great arrangement. Your fingers gripped the sheets, clawing at them desperately. There was a certain element of pain present but you couldn’t bring yourself to care when he felt this amazing.

“God, you feel so good. Better than ever before.” You let yourself drown in the words he was saying, in the feeling he was bringing you. He was fixing it. Just like he promised. It wasn’t long until he let out a harsh grunt, pushing himself even farther into you. You felt his dick twitch and a warmth coat your walls.

When Peter pulled out he noticed you wince. He turned you around to face him and began massaging your body. His firm hands ran past the muscle of your thighs to the fat on your stomach with soothing circles. You looked devastatingly gorgeous like this. Completely wrecked, totally relaxed, entirely pliant.

You made grabby hands for him and he chuckled as he fell into your embrace. You brought him flush to your sweaty body, running your hands through his chestnut locks. He hummed against you and you couldn’t help the smile pulling at your face.

“Hey, Peter?” He could sense your anxiety, which is never a good sign. He was so sure his plan had worked.

“Yes, little lamb?” Your fingers stuttered in their ministrations as you fought for the words.

“I- I was just wondering…” The words died in your throat. Peter moved his head, so he could look into your eyes.

“Wondering if what?” You closed your eyes, feeling too overwhelmed by his gaze. You thought about what had led you here in the first place. You thought of the revelation you had as you first wrapped your arms around him. To lose any of him would be to lose him all. You couldn’t ask him to stop. He wouldn’t, he couldn’t. You felt terrible. How could you even ask him to do that? How could you be so selfish?

“Uhhh, what are we? Like now? Are we still friends? Are we more?” Peter tilted his head as he pondered your question.

“Well, what do you want?” You felt all the air leave your body, suddenly replaced entirely with fear.

“I don’t want you to leave. I want you, forever.” Peter raised himself with his arms, now hovering over your body. The space between you palpable now as he searched your eyes.

“Then you have me,” He kissed you, it was a promise.

A Peter Parker promise was a binding contract. He chose his words with such precision, he never said something without resounding contemplation. He pressed his words into your soul, branding you for the rest of your days.

“Forever.”

Tag List: @andrews-lovr @brinaslittlefreak @ilovemoonknight @negasonic-teenage-asshole @preciousbabypeter @princesskittycatofmeowland @rudy-the-winged-wolf @whoreforklitz @liz-allyn and @blooming-violets this sequel is for you. Hope y'all enjoy :))

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localwebslingers · 7 months

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| Open Starter - Spooky AU |

The door was shut behind him and Peter put all of his strength against it to keep it that way. Just in case. Because he'd seen enough in the last hour to know that the door, one way or another, had to stay closed. The single minded way those...god were they even people anymore? Probably not, there was no way, some of them looked like they shouldn't even be able to get up at all but there they were. Walking around. Stalking about. Filling some of the halls and rasping breaths and...

He held a hand up, straining to listen for just that beyond the doorway and waited. Something to fall, a muffled, rasping groan, for anything. It could have been seconds or it could have been minutes, Peter had no idea but he finally let out a breath and relaxed his stance. No sound, no danger warning from spider sense, that was the best it was going to get for now, "...I think we're okay." he said softly, not ready to actually move away from the door yet, "Any idea how to actually get out of here? Because I'm not exactly looking forward to the idea of facing night of the living dead out there."

#open starter #mutuals only #muse | peter parker(tasm)#[v: something spooky]

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starkersblog · 6 months

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Little Peter and his daddy go trick or treating 🎃🧸🖤

Peter: daddy you gotta wear the suit for Halloween!!

Tony: only if you wear your little spidey suit, sound like a deal?

Peter: deal!

#starker #tony stark #peter parker x tony stark #moodboard #cg!tonystark #agere caregiver #sfw littlespace #little!peter #daddy!tony #cute #happy halloweeeeeeen #halloween #spooky #happy halloween #spoopy

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linkspooky · 1 year

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Fun little comment I got the other day on one of my posts, but it did get me thinking. This wasn’t really a question asked in good faith, but I’m gonna answer it anyway, because it gives me an opportunity to talk.

I think the ideal superhero story is one that criticizes its heroes relentlessly. The same could be said of any story I suppose, main characters who are challenged to grow are more entertaining to realize about than main characters who remain stagnant. The whole point of a story is conflict, if there is no conflict there is no story. It’s like playing an RPG where you’re level one hundred from the start and kill every enemy in one hit. There’s no point to even playing the game because it’d be awfully dull to just walk right through it.

Of course there is a super hero story where the main character kills everything in one hit, ironically, but even that character is challenged by the depression and emptiness he now feels because despite being the strongest dude in existence his life was otherwise kind of empty.

Superho comics especially seem to relish in relentlessly punishing their heroes. If you look up the lifetime of a single major hero in American comics, Nightwing, Batman, especially Batman their lives are filled with tragic events and people they failed to save. Perhaps that is where the SU)PER in superheoes comes from, they are held to an especially high standard. They live their lives selflessly sacrificing for others over and over and that eventually takes it’s toll on them, because the second part of superhuman is “human.” The thing is I don’t hate heroes in stories. I LOVE heroes.

I just don’t like the heroes in MHA that much.

Let me give an example, with the greatest superhero of all time.

Peter Parket, AKA Spiderman. I’ve read posts about how Matt Murdock isn’t much of a hero because hell’s kitchen is like two blocks in New York and they are bad and incorrect because the best heroes aren’t the ones who save the world, the best ones are the ones who don’t have that power and then do their best anyway. Spiderman is at his best as a character when he is just your friendly neighborhood Spiderman, he’s a local hometown hero, he patrols New York, he is really bad at balancing his love life, his job, and his time as spiderman. He is a person before he is a hero, and a very flawed person at that.

Spiderman’s very origin is his failure to save someone, because when suddenly given amazing spider powers, regular kid Peter Parker, kind of bullied, kind of put-upon immediately uses his powers to become a pro-wrestler and a television star. A pretty selfish use of his powers, but Peter is a teenager at this point. Coming home from one of his television appearances Peter sees a burglar being chased by a security guard. The guard calls out to Peter for help, but Spidey refuses on the grounds that catching crimminals is not his job.

When Peter later comes home that day, he discovers that his Uncle Ben had been killed by a burglar. Outraged, Peter dons his wrestling outfit and then goes to hunt the man down, only to discover that it was the same man he let go earlier that day. Peter could have easily stopped the man right then and prevented Uncle Ben’s death. Ben’s dying words are what save him however, that with great power comes great responsibility, rather than continuing to use his powers for his own gain he decides to selflessly devote himself to fight crime.

But it doesn’t stop there. One of the most famous story arcs of Spiderman of all time is him once again failing to save someone, and this is not Peter as a fledgling hero but rather when he had been Spiderman from some time. The Death of Gwen Stacy, and yes yes, Gwen didn’t deserve to be sacrificed for Peter’s character development, women in fridges and all that, but there’s a reason this storyline is famous and it’s because it’s IMPACTFUL it mattered in the comics years, even decades after the story was originally published. Here’s an example, the trope “women in refridgerators” was coined by Gail Simone after Kyle Rayner’s girlfriend who was killed and then stuffed into a refrigerator for him to find. Do you even know what Kyle Rayner’s girlfriend name was? However, Gwen Stacy is at least remembered which means there is something about her plotline that works, and for me it’s because it centers around this theme of “failure” again.

Peter, young and in love, failed Gwen Stay in a lot of ways, Peter’s whole character revolves around this idea of his many responsibilities and how he has a hard time balancing these things because he is just one person. One of the early storylines is in fact, Peter failing to save Gwen’s father from Doctor Octopus, which makes him overprotective of her, to the point of not telling her his secret identity ostensibly “for her protection.” What sets off the plotline that leads to the Gwen Stacy’s death however, is one Norman Osborn aka The Green Gobling, the only one at the time to know Peter’s secret identity.

Due tot hat fact, he decides to target Gwen Stacy as a way of getting at Peter. Gwen Stacy with no idea who Spiderman, unaware of this incredibly dangerous aspect of Peter’s life that she is involved with due to being in proximity to him is taken completely off guard and easily captured. Spiderman at the time is also incredibly sick and off his game, because once again Peter Parker is someone who will work himself to death trying to take care of his one million responsibilities.

Goblin at that point threatens Gwen Stacy’s life on the top of a bridge in order to get Peter to give up his identity of Spiderman, of course he’s not going to do that so he fights with Goblin like it is any other hero and villain confrontation. Goblin manages to slip past him and knock her off the bridge, and then you know what happens next. However, what most people don’t remember is what made Gwen Stacy’s death so effective is for a moment it looks like Peter has saved her. Peter, in a moment of borderline arrogance even quips about it because webbing people to catch them from falling buildings is something he has done a hundred times before this.

Only to learn that it was Peter’s method of saving her by catching with her web that delivered her untimely death, as the force of falling and then suddenly coming to a stop snapped her neck. Peter believes he’s saved her until he cradles the body and finds she’s not moving, and after that has an emotional breakdown repeating to himself over and over again that he’s saved her.

Now, I don’t believe it’s Peter’s fault because it was genuinely an accident, and Goblin is the one who chose to throw her off the bridge as a way of getting at Peter. The same way you could say Uncle Ben’s death is not Peter’s fault because he had no way of knowing the robber would later shoot his uncle. Yet, both times it seems like a failure of the main character, because heroes are supposed to save people, when they don’t save someone something’s gone wrong.

Peter, overconfident at that point despite the fact he is sick, and off his game goes in swinging against Green Goblin, and you can even say he focused more on defeating the Green Goblin in a physical fight then the immediate danger to Gwen’s life. He also is way overconfident when he does try to web her to save her, which is what directly leads to him snapping her neck because he just wasn’t thinking about the danger of a fall from that high.

There is also the added element of Peter never telling Gwen about his secret identity, she never knew her life was in danger to any one of Peter’s enemies who would have wanted to target her to get to him. Would she have dated him if she knew this was the case? We never knew because Peter never gave her that choice.

“Gwen: As much of a victim of Spiderman’s lifestyle as Peter Parker? “

The comic itself brings this up, Goblin was the one who killed her, and yet Peter failed in his responsibility towards her in a way. Gwen Stacy’s death becomes a last point of guilt and trauma for Peter that he continues to struggle with, it adds a deep personal conflict for him. There are later comics where Peter remembers what happens to Gwen and tries to do better to make up for what he has lost.

Now, let me compare this to one of the more recent happenings in MHA, a case where a hero has failed to save someone. Bakugo dies in the fight against ShigAFO, and SHIGAFO pointed out that if heroes are going to put inexperienced children on the front lines some of them are going to die.

We have this same setup as we did with the Green Goblin. The villain threatens the loved one of a hero in order to hurt them, the hero fails to arrive to save them. Even if it is the fault of ShigAFO for being the one who killed Bakugo, the heroes still played a role in it, because they made the decision to bring him to the frontlines of a battlefield and directly put his life in danger. The same way that Peter not telling Gwen Stacy his identiity meant she was totally unaware of the danger that would have come with dating him.

Peter tries his absolute best to save Gwen, he made a promise to her father that he would always protect her, he was fighting against Goblin with everything on the line, and yet he still doesn’t save her because of one moment of overconfidence where he thinks webbing her will be enough. Peter as a hero is not perfect, and he cannot save everyone, and Gwen Stacy’s death is a cruel but effective lesson to him in that, and yet his ability to pick himself up and keep going after such a terrible loss and even learn from it to make sure that he doesn’t make the same mistake twice results in character development. However, what happens after Bakugo dies?

LIterally one chapter later, the heroes conveniently have a way to restart his heart with a hero named Edgeshot who has been a background character the entire time. Did anyone know he could do this? Was this foreshadowed and established in any way? People made jokes about this plot twist for weeks because it makes no sense, but for the most part they didn’t care because they wanted Bakugo back... but is the plotline better served if he just immediately pops back up because the plot convenience fairy waved her magic wand?

Imagine if this had happened to Gwen. Gwen got her neck snapped, and then the next issue she just popped back up alive like “Hey, just kidding Peter!” or, while Peter is holding her body some guy just comes along and says he has the super power to heal broken necks. One of the most compelling stories in Spiderman’s history, would have ended up being really lame.

I’d also like to mention I’m a fan of Gwen Stacy’s character. In fact, Gwen Stacy and Mary Jane are two of my favorite female comic book characters of all time, because unlike most comic book love interests they were their own people, with their own little lives, thoughts and feelings they didn’t revolve around Peter. However, the plotline is effective because Gwen Stacy Dies. A story where a hero fails will always be more exciting than the one where the heroes always succeed, because their failures are what makes you sympathize with them. Peter Parker is not perfect, far from it in fact. If you’ve watched the movie “Spiderverse” Peter B Parker in that was super popular with audiences, and at the same time he was a man-child divorcee who is scared of having kids because he’s not mature enough to have them with really bad depression and all of those flaws he had was what made the audience connect with him.

I would argue also that the heroes are compelling characters for the first three arcs of MHA, because they consistently fail. The tournament arc Shoto is completely isolated because no one notices the trauma his father has inflicted upon it, and he doesn’t start to come into his own as a person until Deku reaches out to him. Shinso feels failed by his adult mentors because they didn’t give him a fair shot at pursuing his dream at becoming a hero.

Iida himself fails as a hero when he decides to try to kill Stain out of vengeance for his brother, not only does he fail that but Midoriya and Shoto nearly die as well and are put in harms way because they helped him against Stain. In the camp raid arc, Deku saves the little boy yes, but because he compeltely destroyed his body fighting against Muscular he fails to rescue Bakugo and he’s kidnapped. In the Overhaul arc, Mirio and Deku don’t save Eri when they have the chance and then feel horrible crushing guilt when they realize she is going to suffer more abuse because they didn’t save her right then. Mirio in trying to make up for letting more harm come to Eri, even has to sacrifice his quirk to a quirk erasing bullet because he can’t let her get hit any more times.

During the Pro-Hero arc, Enji is told by his whole family basically none of them care that he defeated a villain, because he hasn’t made up to them the abuse they suffered under him in any way.

The heroes are compelling characters when the story is about their failures, because they are characters, human, flawed, capable of improvement. However, after a certain turning point in the story all criticism of the heroes basically stopped.

When the public is rightfully upset that the heroes are not doing their jobs, you know their government jobs as protectors of society, the things they get paid for (spiderman does this for free you know he doesn’t get anything out of it) Uraraka gave a big speech on how people need to be EASIER ON THE HEROES, because look how much THEYRE SUFFERING.

When Hawks kills Twice, when Enji’s own son reveals himself as a villain, basically the only consequence they have to face is making an insincere apology at a press conference. Enji did not even write his own apology, Hawks wrote it for him.

The story is no longer about the heroes failing, instead we get the story telling us over and over again how good the heroes are at protecting people, how noble they are.

This whole speech reads as kind of preachy and insincere considering that the heroes right now are wielding all their power to beat up three children who were in fact not saved by heroes, Enji destroyed Toya’s life, Toga watched her best friend get murdered by a hero, Nana abandoned Kotaro, and when All Might had the chance to reach out to Shigaraki knowing he was Nana’s grandson and that he had been captured by AFO for who knows how long he just didn’t do anything.

Peter isn’t a moral paragon, he’s a whiny asshole at times, an overconfident brat however what makes him a hero is that he has all of these flaws and he keeps trying. The heroes in MHA are also flawed, but the story acts as if they aren’t, and nothing is their fault anymore. Which is why I’m critical of the heroes, because I am hoping they will finally show some character development and go back to being the compelling characters they were in the first half of the story. If the heroes are making mistakes here, then the plot should recognize them and challenge them to do better. If the heroes are perfect... then why is this story even about them?

#spooky speaks #peter parker #spiderman #my hero academia #gwen stacy #bakugo katsuki

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oracleofapollon · 2 years

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tasm!peter with dialogue “You look so stupid.” / “Well, that was the idea since I dressed as you.” and scenario corn maze

join my celebration ♡

thank you!! i haven't written for pete in so long, it's always a pleasure :)

You've been planning it for a month. Ever since you saw that Spider-Man merch in a random store you walked into.

Of course clothes inspired by your heroic boyfriend are a very common thing in NYC – everybody wants to show their love and support for the masked vigilante. You certainly aren't a stranger to Spider-Man Halloween costumes, but this? This was the worst thing you've ever seen. You love it.

You were looking for a new pair of sweatpants – nothing extravagant, some cheap ones you could wear at home. So when you saw a blue pair with a red spider on the backside? You grabbed them immediately. And when you were going to go pay for them you saw it.

It was a t-shirt on sale. Black with big red letters saying Spider, but with 3 legs and a bunch of suggestive winking emojis floating around.

You laughed hard. Hard.

(One lady almost made you leave).

And now here you are, looking for Peter in the corn maze. Even though you two have been living together for almost six months, you made him leave before you so he didn't see your "surprise".

"Oh? Surprise?" he asked in a teasing tone when you told him about your plans. "In public, though, babe?" A lopsided smile adorned his pretty face and that made your knees buckle a bit. Even after all this time, his flirting made you weak.

"Shut up."

So now you are so giddy to see his handsome face and the expression he's going to wear once he sees you outfit and how he's–

"Boo," a warm puff of air lingers on your right ear and neck making you jump with a startled gasp.

Turning around you face your ridiculously hot and (extremely annoying) boy smiling with the most devilish grin on his pretty face.

"Peter! Jesus Chr– are you trying to kill me? Give me a heart attack? Is there a single thought behind those eyes?" Despite your scolding voice your eyes were full of love, just like every time you look at Peter Parker. And he notices, pecking you quickly.

"Sorry, babe," he murmurs while wrapping a strong arm around your waist. "Saw your god-awful pants and needed to punish you."

"God-awful? They're inspired by your suit," you whisper, making sure no one else was around.

"I don't remember having a spider on my ass though?" Acting slightly offended he grabs your hand and intertwines your fingers. "Is that your surprise?" he asks, starting to guide you towards the path in front of you, swinging your hands between the both of you.

"No! Baby, you've seen nothing yet."

Peter faces you and raises a suspicious eyebrow. You just simply unzip your jacket, standing still.

You can feel your boyfriend's scrutinizing gaze on your revealed top as you search his face for even the slightest reaction.

A second, two seconds…

And then he bursts into the loudest laugh you've heard in a while.

Tiny wrinkles frame his honey eyes, mirth twinkling in them. Nose scrunched up, corners of his mouth brought so high you think they might graze his ears any moment. And the sound of him? Boyish giggles, sudden gasps of air. He laughs so hard he becomes silent for a second, not being able to take a breath.

And you can't help but laugh along with your boy, share this moment of silliness in the most ridiculous setting you could've come up with.

"You- you look so stupid." He struggles to mutter the words, but they're full of affection and love and fondness he holds only for you.

He looks so young like this, you think. With glassy eyes and reddened cheeks and toothy smile. His reaction is worth everything – your money, dignity, effort.

"Well, that was the idea. Since I dressed as you." Your sarcastic words could not be even a bit convincing as you were beaming like crazy, joy filling every tiny vein in your body.

Your boy shook his head at you. "I cannot with you, Casanova."

"Right. Kiss?"

His lips are soft on yours, meeting each other in a chaste kiss.

"How about we get outta here and you tell me more about my- what was it? Three le-?"

You shut him up with another kiss.

#zee's spooky 100 followers celebration #peter parker #tasm peter x reader #tasm fic #tasm fanfiction #tasm!peter parker x reader #tasm peter parker #tasm! peter parker x reader #tasm!peter parker #tasm!peter parker imagine #tasm!peter x reader #tasm!spiderman x you #peter parker x reader #tasm! peter parker fluff #tasm x reader #tasm x you

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badbinx666 · 6 months

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Just a wife trying to tempt her husband into coming home early...I just miss being shot with his webs~

🕸️🕷️

New video out now, & more cosplays coming soon💕

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askmafiabobvelseb · 7 months

Note

*Jonah has spotted the infant*

"Ew... What is that, a rat?"

(She's a lil dumb sometimes, forgetting her own species-)

"He's staying with us until his mom can pay us back."

#bob velseb au #mafia au #spooky month #spooky month au #art #ask the mafia boss #ask mafia bob velseb #bob vesleb #mafia bob velseb #bob velseb spooky month #don't you dare say peter parker istf.#lilyflame0036 jonah #lilyflame0036 #lilyflame0036 oc

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sharonisthebettercarter · 6 months

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How about a Dracula!Miguel X Villager!Peter au? Peter's aunt May is gravely ill and the only way for Peter to get the money she needs for her medical bills is to agree to become the vampire lord's thrall and resident blood bag (or in this case bride).

YES~!! YESSSSSSS~<3<3<3!!

you shot this up WRITE~<3 up my alley and i LOOOOOOOVE this and i'm postin' it now cause HAPPY HALLOW'S EVE~<3! yes fuck THANK YOU<3 (i queued the others with some other stuffs~<3 you'll see them soon enough lol)

i love this.

absofuckinglutely~<3 especially, ESPECIALLY.

if miguel is that same kinda means well horribly constipated bastard who like legit wants to help but social ineptitude~<3 especially bein' a vampire.

he expects peter to be *terrified* and peter's just... he's just not. and an absolute shit that handles every fuckin' thing like a goddamn PRO, or is even getting on the vampire's nerves and eating a TON of garlic to try and get the vampire to dump him because he's such a terrible bride.

maybe BOTH~<3! ;)))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))

MAYBE~<3 aunt may's the REAL mastermind who know's dracula miguel's actual nature and talked to him first asking him to take care of her crackhead boi peter who she expects will not survive without her.

hell, miguel could even be the doctor treating her and peter could be suspicious of him, maybe he's just supposed to 'marry the handsome 'doctor' to pay them debts<3' as hwas the old hways~<3 miguel could be keeping his vampiness a secret~ that peter is on the verge of discoverin' while miguel only really accepted because of a cultural thingy~ (other villagers expecting him not to treat aunt may/being salty if he does without the money/being buttheads about it/rich white dickholes throwing their aristocrat daughters at him CONSTANTLY and peter~ is his easy escape from that bullshit<3)

lmao, this could go so dark and i just went full crackhead on it i'm sorry but i'm also not cause leik THE OPPORTUNITY~<3!!

could still def have dark elements for sure~<3 but i love the kinda crack that comes with peter boo and the spoodermans~<3

let's talk about vampirism tho~<3 one trope i love~<3 is the *sensations* that can come from *feedings* tho<3 they can be painful... or~<3<3<3 ;)))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))

maybe that's something peter didn't *quite* expect but really really very much enjoys~<3

but miguel, just... y'know, he won't actually bone him. so peter has to change tactics to ;))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))

wear the vampire down let's say.

even better. even better cause y'know the mpreg is comin' like it always does...

peter's a 'bride', and that could mean a number of things. always game for a/b/o<3 maybe peter is a little wolf~<3 and doesn't know it ;))))))))))))), maybe peter has diluted but somewhat special blood that made him particularly attractive to the vampire~<3 (i believe in dracula's case, something of scent was involved with his obsession with mina)

fae, witch, wolf, mutation (as an origin for vamps i love exploring mutation, maybe peter is a new born vampire in the making like miguel was and the *perfect* mate for him because always yes for me<3)

or~

maybe vampires are just freaky freaks who can impregnate other dudes and that's why miguel doesn't quite wanna bone peter who definitely wants to be boned but also kinda does wanna bone him and is trying so hard to resist but leik peeeeteeeeerrrrrrrrr~<3<3<3

bottom line... mayday. gabriella. any other vampy babies~<3 imminent<3<3<3

... maybe peter *was* just supposed to be a blood bag and he fucks it all up to high hell by getting miguel to fuck him--

;))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))

not gonna lie, kinda wanna write this one but i STILL have work to be done and at least wanna do just ONE butchlander fic~! (and now i'm on a half sterek kick fuck mah life--)

IDEAS FREE TO USE~<3<3<3!!!

#happy hallow's eve!#halloween #spooky season #spiderdads #miguel o'hara #peter b parker #delicious #fic ideas #fic prompt #yes #vampire #precious anon #brilliant #mpreg

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pettytiredandjewish · 7 months

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🎃👻💀🕷️🏹 🍿

Movie night with the spider hawk fam!

The spider hawk fam loves having movie nights when they are all free! And since it’s spooky season they decided to pull out all of their Halloween movies.

Yelena picked the movie and her being the crazed gremlin decided to make everyone watch a very gory horror movie.

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comicwaren · 22 days

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From Edge of Spider-Verse #002

“The Terrible Horror of the Spooky-Man”, by Kaare Andrews (W), Bob Quinn and Brian Reber (A)

“The Cy-nister Six”, by Rich Douek (W), Edgar Salazar, Victor Olazaba and Alex Sinclair (A)

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lovelyspooks · 1 year

Text

Want you to be okay

I've been falling asleep to this scenario for weeks because I love hurting my feelings and I need to write it down fr

Peter Parker x reader (no specific gender, they/them pronouns)

word count - 1.6k

Warnings - fluff (at the start) but then angst with no comfort, uncommunicated feelings, shi ion know what else to say

You're Peter Parkers main priority, he makes sure you know that but lately you feel second best to the city you both love

It had been three weeks since you had seen your boyfriend.

You had seen him in class and in the hallways at school yes, and you had had the odd few conversations but you hadn't really seen him at all

Every time you made plans something would come up. Something Spider-Man related.

"sorry bug but I can't make it"

"somethings come up... Reschedule?"

"I promise I'll make it up to you" - the latest apology ditch, you stared at your phone sitting on your bed. This was the third time Peter bailed on you this week.

You were supposed to go to this new Spider-Man themed restaurant that popped up virtually out of nowhere. It was supposed to be a laugh, to take time to make up for the last month of distance but of course stupid new York needed saving. Again.

At first you were understanding, I mean new York is big and Peter is one man, of course he's busy. But as of recently it seems like Peter is doing everything in his power to not spend time with you.

"No, he loves spending time with me" You say to yourself but you can't help but feel your trying to convince yourself rather than state a fact .

You shake your head as you get unready to watch Netflix until Peter inevitably crawled through you window with a new injury you'd had to stitch

You were demanding too much, your boyfriend is here risking his life every night and you're complaining you don't get to see him enough. It was selfish. So as much as you wanted to say something, you stayed quiet

You knew you couldn't keep your feelings bottles up, that at some point you would explode, but until then you played the understanding partner

You changed into a clean set of pyjamas and turned on your small TV that sat across your room. An hour turned to two that turned to three and before you knew it, it was three in the morning.

Giving up on waiting for your boyfriend, you drifted to sleep, careful to leave space for him on your bed.

***************

The next day you woke up to the familiar feeling of heat on your back. Peter had finally come to your window at some point and you couldn't help but feel guilty not being awake when he got there

Somehow sensing you're awake, Peter spoke first.

"hi" he croaked into your neck, obviously he hadn't slept at all last night

"you should've woke me up Pete" you scold as you turn to face the boy you've missed so much, checking his exposed skin for any wounds

"didn't want to disturb you bub" he smiles as he moves his hand to your cheek, caressing it

"that's besides the point" you can't help but smile at your boy, you were supposed to be mad at him for not showing up but when he looks at you with his adorable brown eyes, it's hard to stay mad

"I'm sorry I couldn't make it last night" his eyes softened with obvious guilt as his hand continues to hold your cheek

You sigh as you sit up "it's alright Pete, you've got a job to do, the people need Spider-Man"

"yeah but you need Peter just as much" Peter sits up too and places a hand on your knee

"it's okay Pete, I promise, we can just go another day" you spoke reassuringly at the boy

Peter can tell you're upset but drops the subject

"well... I haven't got anything to do today, and neither do you so does tonight sound good?" Peter cocks his head to the side as he asks and you swear you could die at the sight

"I don't know Pete... Something might come up" you try your best to keep a straight face but fail as Peter smiles wide and attacks your face with his loving kisses

You missed this.

SKIP TO LATER THAT DAY

You were waiting outside the restaurant you and Peter picked out, the reviews were scarce but it was Spidey themed, so you picked it anyways

The agreed time was 8pm but you had shown up early just in case Peter had the same idea but it had been half an hour and Peter still hasn't shown up

You checked your phone in case you didn't hear it go off and Peter sent a text that he was on his way but no, no new texts.

You huff as you tap your foot on the pavement below you .

He'll show. He promised.

After another 30 minutes you came to the realisation that Peter had either forgotten or was dead in an alley somewhere and for his sake, you hoped it was the second one

Lost in your train of thought you were interrupted by a not so happy voice

"excuse me, we're closing" a small girl around your age tells you. She's peeked her head out of the entrance door, tired eyes begging you not to argue and comply

"I'm waiting for my boyfriend..." you check the time. Its been 3 hours

You go to open your mouth but the girl simply shoes her head "you can wait, just don't waste your time waiting in someone who won't show" she smiles pitifully and heads back inside

Just as she leaves you feel raindrops fall onto you. Great.

You sigh as you make your way home embarrassed with your head hung low.

**********

It's been an two hours since you made it home and Peter still hadn't called

You've left him hundreds of messages and voice mails, begging to know if he's alive but no answer

It was 2 am when you heard the familiar noise of your bedroom window opening, a cheerful Peter walks into your room and you feel your rage building up

"where were you? I thought you were dead!" you hiss as you leap out of bed

You watch as Peters face falls, noticing your tear stained cheeks he Remembers your date

"shit, baby I'm so sorry, i forgot" he rushes over to you and rises his hands to cup your cheeks but your swat him away

"you forgot? Peter it's been 5 hours! You can't pick up your phone now?" Peters heart clenches at the fact you only care about his safety and not the fact he ditched you again

"it died, baby I'm so sorry" he tries to touch you again but you move back

"don't touch me" your words are daggers to his heart as you stare at him with disgust

"I've been trying to be understanding Peter... For a month I've let you bail on me again and again and again" you start, your eyes well up with tears

"baby you know I don't do it on purpose, it's just-"

"New York needs you. I know Peter, it all I've been telling myself! But you said it yourself just this morning that I need you too!" the dam breaks as tears fall down your face

When Peter doesn't say anything you can only bring yourself to scoff. You walk out of your room and make your way to the kitchen, Peter right behind you

"What do you want me to say? Sorry i missed our date because i was out saving lives?" you turn on your heels to look at Peter in disbelief

"Don't you dare turn this on me Parker!" Parker. You only call him that when you can't see the person you love when you speak, only the one who's pissing you off

"Well it seems like that's what you want!" Peter raises his arms and slaps them at his sides, he just couldn't understand

You both stood in silence for a while, neither of you knowing what to say

"This isn't working Peter" You sigh as you rest your hands on the kitchen counter.

"What?" Peters heart sinks at your words. You can't be serious can you? No. This is all some joke, Peter knew he messed up forgetting about your date but you weren't seriously going to break up with him were you?

"What are you talking about? Baby I said sorry, can't we just move on?" Peter clung to the possibility of you forgiving him and going back to how things were, before he messed up

"This is exactly what I'm on about! You just don't get it do you?" You stare at Peter only to see a confused face

"It's not just about tonight Pete, it's about all the times you've bailed to go on patrol, half the time you don't even tell me! And what am I supposed to think hm? I'm up all night wondering if you're alive and then you waltz in here like nothing happened with another injury!" You were exhausted and wanted to sleep but you need Peter to understand

"you knew what you was getting yourself in to when we started dating y/n. I told you it wouldn't be easy"

"Well I guess I thought I'd have my boyfriend to help me didn't I?"

"That's not fair"

"Just go Peter" you sigh as you cross your arms

"No." He argues back

"I said go!" you walk to him and push his chest as hard as you can. Peter doesn't even stumble as he looks at you with tears in his eyes

"Go! Go! Go!" you push him with each word, tears streaming down your face

Before you can shout another word Peter takes a step back

"If you really want me to leave, fine just..." He tries to think of something to say, a final plead, anything to make you wrap your arms around him again

"I love you." he whispers out, to his disappointment you stare at him, teary eyed as you bite your lip

Peter pulls his mask as he turns to walk away but no before giving you one last pleading look

When you say nothing, Peter lets out a shaky breath as he leaves. As he swings away he can't help but listen in to you coke out smuffled sobs

He did this to you.

#peter parker #peter parker angst #peter parker x reader #tasm!peter parker x reader #spooky’s work~

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rancidpancakebatter · 2 years

Text

In the Name of Good | Prt 1 -[P.P.]

Pairings: Dark!Yandere!Peter Parker x Female!Reader

Prompt: "what are we going to do about this?" you're caught, red-handed, and peter's next move could destroy your life forever. unless… you can convince him otherwise

Summary: Peter is acting strange and curiosity kills the cat

word Count: 6k words

Content: MINORS DNI: 18+

Swearing, Somnophillia, Murder, Mentions of blood, Mentions of emesis, Animal Abuse/harm (Murder Triad stuff)

( Part 2 | Masterlist )

A/N: AHHHHHH! I'm so sorry I'm late I saw this like 30 minutes ago and whipped this up. Anyway, congrats to @liz-allyn and I'm honoured that you would wanna read anything I write. This is for you :))

Also, there is a literal murder scene in here so read at your own discretion. Perhaps I should cut back on the true crime after this. It's separated from the rest of the text and in italics so you can avoid it if you wish not to read

Peter Parker was the kindest man you knew. You grew up down the street from each other. Your parents moved into his neighbourhood when you were 7 years old. You sat in the front yard with a popsicle as the adults passed you by, carrying many heavy boxes. Across the street, you saw the curtains move. A mop of brown curls ducking as soon as you looked.

Peter had never really had friends before. Always been more of a loner. Aunt May had been preparing cookies all day and promised to take him over when “the new neighbours look more settled.” But he was impatient. He watched as you sat across the street, red popsicle dripping down your chin and fingers. He was fascinated by it. He liked the colour and the way it danced down your arm, enchanting.

You quickly became best friends, walking to school every day and playing at recess together. Peter didn’t treat you differently because you were a girl, he didn’t treat you like you were dainty. He would encourage you to jump off the swings with him. He would do nerf battles with you. He would rough house too.

Peter was your best friend and you loved him unconditionally. In middle school, you had your first crush: Noah Myers. Peter didn’t like him very much but you were head over heels for this boy. He called you pretty and drew you flowers that you would keep in your locker. He asked you to the spring dance and you were so excited to go. Peter and Aunt May took you dress shopping and it was so much fun, until he ditched you to dance with some other girl, an eighth grader no less. You could never compete with her.

That night you cried into Peter’s shoulder and he told you he would make him pay. You weren’t sure what he meant by that, and you never did. Noah showed up to school for a week and then disappeared. People said he moved others said he transferred schools but no one knew for sure.

By high school, many people thought that You and Peter were dating. Your relationship could be seen as co-dependent but you didn’t really care. He made you feel safe. There was hardly a secret between you two. He regularly spent the night at your place and his bed was always open to you. He was there for every milestone; you couldn’t imagine anyone else you would want to share those moments with.

That was until senior year. He started getting distant, he wouldn’t answer his phone for hours at a time and would never explain why. You thought maybe he had a girlfriend, but who? The thought alone made you feel like you were putting your heart through a vegetable spiralizer. It’s true that you weren't dating but you liked his attention. You had never thought of sharing it. Maybe that was selfish of you.

This went on for weeks and you were starting to get restless. What was he doing? What was he hiding? You stayed by your bedroom window on a Tuesday afternoon, watching his house. What you didn’t realise was that Peter was watching you too. He always did. He would watch you through his camera lens from the comfort of his bed. You knew he took pictures of you, you had seen them tacked up on his wall. He explained they were candids and you thought nothing more of it. His sweet, gullible, little lamb.

You didn’t see the stash he had in a book under his bed. He had cut out the pages to make room for your beauty. You had never thought to be reserved around Peter, sometimes changing in front of him. It was a cruel tease that you thought so little of him. He would watch you after school, as you studied, cleaned your room, and did your little workout that drove him crazy.

But today was different. Today you were looking right at him. You didn’t realise this of course, but you were. Why were you watching him, or trying to at least? Had he raised your suspicion? Had you been following the news? He knows Aunt May has warned him about going out at night. He wonders if someone had given you the same talk.

Hello, little lamb, he thought, What is it you want to know? He had to play his cards right. He could make himself visible, see what you might do. He could stay hidden and enjoy knowing you were looking for him. He could call you, pretend to be busy, see if you falter. So many options, so many choices.

Peter liked having choices. He likes making choices for others. That’s something he relished in you. You were so obedient, so willing to act on his will. It might be the only reason he hadn’t been caught. Knowing that it might come back to you made him careful. He had to protect you, keep you safe from the dangers of this world.

Like the dog on Kalamasis Street that tried to bite you. That stupid mutt scared you, snarling and barking at you. It had threatened you and he couldn’t stand for that. He felt joy in the missing fliers hung around the block. He pointed one out to you, just to see what you would say. He swelled with pride when you declared “Serves it right. I just hope it doesn’t come back to finish what it started.”

Peter couldn’t tell you that he knew it wouldn’t. Not yet. He had to make sure you were ready. He had to know that you would accept him and all his flaws. He had to know you would stand by him. He couldn’t lose you, neither of you would survive it.

You were patient, he’ll give you that. Three hours passed with you sitting at your window sill before you called him. He watched as you fumbled with the device in your hands, mulling it over. A choice. You chose to call him.

“Hey Petey, you home?” You sounded chipper but you didn’t know he could see the worry on your face. The way you picked at your nailbed nervous about his answer.

“My car’s out front right?” he chuckled, delighting in your desire to see him.

“Can I come over?” he had to bite his lip to keep from laughing. You were so cute.

“Of course, little lamb, you’re always welcome over.” You smiled and he took a picture. You were so perfect, the way you were leaning over the window sill, your breasts pushed out in that thin tank top you had on.

He watched as you made your way across the street, backpack in hand. You had made another choice: to spend the night. Peter was conflicted with himself. He wanted to go out tonight, but having you in his bed would make it difficult. Not because you would catch him, you never did, but it might distract him.

You loved spending the night at Peter’s. It was the best rest you ever had. Maybe it was because his home was homier than yours. His came with an Aunt May, homemade dinners, and a bigger bed. It didn’t matter how much you complained, your parents refused to get you anything bigger than a twin. You think it’s because they’re not as on board with Pete spending the night but you don’t care. You just share your twin and your parents will either have to get you a bigger bed or sleep knowing you and Peter have to snuggle to fit.

Pete meets you at the door and basks in the smile that spreads across your face. You make your way to the dining room table where you begin to work on your homework. Peter joins you and you enjoy the quiet, it feels nice just to be with him. You suddenly feel stupid for getting so jealous over a girl who probably didn’t exist.

You didn’t notice Peter watching your every move as if trying to memorise the choreography of your mundane mannerisms. The way you twirled everything that entered your hand, a pen, a pencil, a straw. The way you would let out three quick puffs of air when you got stumped on something. The way you crossed and uncrossed your legs in thought.

Being “normal” around you was hard, even though his normal around you was already odd. He decided to take advantage of his time with you, hoping perhaps he can satiate himself with you and not need to go out tonight. He let out a dramatic puff of air, catching your attention.

“I can’t focus.” You leaned on your hand pouting.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” You were always so willing to serve.

“Can you sit on my lap? You’re too far and it’s distracting.” You got up without a second thought. Physical closeness with Peter was something you were so used to. Whether it be holding hands, cuddling, or sitting on his lap, that was just expected.

You sat on his thigh and it took everything in him not to grab your hips and slowly start grinding you against him. He wondered what you would sound like, what sweet noises and pleas you would make for him. He wondered if you had ever done something like that. He imagines you grinding against a stuffed animal he had given you. What would Mr Whiskers say if he could talk?

You were so oblivious to him and it both excited and angered him. It excited him because he knew he could get away with quite a bit. But it angered him because he wanted you to be his, all his and no one else's. He remembered the guy from your econ class then.

You had worn a skirt Peter had bought you to school today. You loved anything Peter picked out for you and wore it with pride. It was definitely too short for dress code but you were such a sweetheart no one dared scold you. That guy didn’t care how sweet you were.

Peter watched as he trailed behind you in the halls, just staring at your ass, making obscene gestures that his lackeys would laugh at. He had to pay. He couldn’t get away with that. Ogling at what wasn’t his. You none the wiser, too sweet and kind to know what he meant. Peter had to protect you, his little lamb.

It was nine o’clock, time for bed. Peter preferred to stay up but he could never say no to you. You dressed in your pyjamas and Peter watched, he watched as you pulled your shirt off exposing your perfect back to him. He wanted to kiss and lick up your spine, have you mewling, begging for more. You unhooked your bra and for a moment he was jealous of the Smith’s poster on the wall that got to see them. It’s not that Peter hasn’t seen them, it’s just always been through a viewfinder, two planes of glass and a street away.

He always slept in his boxers and you never thought anything of it. It never occurred to you that maybe that was too intimate between friends. He was in his home and could sleep as he wished. You got in bed as Peter went to get you some water. He always did this. Made sure you had plenty to eat and drink. Every time you spent the night he gave you a glass of water and made you drink it all, he was just so kind.

While fixing your drink he tried to focus on you. He tried to convince himself that a night with you was better than a night out, but all he could think about was that fucking guy. He had gone through the yearbook and found him. Blake Walsh was the son of Debera and John Walsh. John owned a landscaping company and after a little digging, he found their address. He couldn’t not go out tonight. Not after what he did to you.

He stirred your glass, making sure the sleep aid fully dissolved. After inspecting it closely he was pleased with his work. You smiled at him as you accepted the water, downing it in seconds before rolling over and patting the place next to you. Peter wasted no time climbing in after you. It wasn’t long before sleep overtook you. Peter waited patiently for your light snores before moving. He had a busy night ahead of him.

First, he petted your face, moving the hair out of the way. You didn’t even flinch. He had been worried he hadn’t used enough melatonin, you were starting to build a tolerance over the years so he had to give you more, always careful to not use too much. He didn’t want you to be suspicious. He ripped the blankets off of you and rolled you onto your back.

He took in your sleeping form, nipples peaked through your thin shirt due to the sudden coldness, your exposed hip from where it rode up, your shorts bunched. He wanted to ravish you. He checked the clock, 10:30. He had to finish his night by three. It would take him at least two hours to take care of Blake, but he always underestimated.

He had thirty minutes to enjoy you. He began by slowly pulling down your shorts, listening carefully for any disturbance from you. Once your shorts were off he buried his head between your thighs. He thanked whatever deity was out there for giving him this gift of heightened sent. God, you smelled so good he could almost taste you. He couldn’t help himself, he laid his tongue flat against your core through your cotton panties. He relished in the little squirm you made.

He allowed himself a few more licks before he couldn’t stand it any longer. He was rutting against the bed, his hard-on leaking precum onto the sheets. He pulled his boxers off and sat back at the head of the bed. He slowly lifted your hand, kissing your knuckles before spitting into your palm. He listened carefully, monitoring your heart rate and breathing pattern as he went. He slowly wrapped your fingers around his member, it twitched in your hand.

He started stroking himself with it, your skin was so soft. He bit his lip as he sped up your movements. He stared at your innocent face, he wondered what you would look like falling apart from his hands. Maybe one day he’d know. It wasn’t long before he was cumming, heightened senses making him sensitive. He carefully licked your hand clean before going to the bathroom to clean himself up.

He got dressed and went to his closet. He had made a lock for it, much similar to his bedroom door, but this one was a combination lock. Aunt May was never in his room much and if she asked he had a collection of porno mags he would pull out and pretend to be ashamed of. He was sure she would let it go after that.

He grabbed his go bag and headed out the window. He had gotten into a routine of sorts for his adventures. First, he put his car in neutral and pushed it down the street to the stop sign. Anyone who saw him would just think he was a teenager sneaking out, nothing more. With his newfound strength, it was quite easy to do. Secondly, he would arrive a mile from the location. His endurance was much better now and running was easy, as was scaling houses. This brings us to three, find a point of entry/distraction.

When he first started he was more of the blitz attacker. Finding someone on a night run and ending it there, no planning, no flair, just a rush. But now he was getting good at this. He surveyed the house for a bit, it was quiet, and there didn’t seem to be any security measures. He could work with that. He saw a light on in one of the rooms, upon closer inspection he realised it was Blake’s. He was up on his phone, not seemingly doing much.

He found a doggie door in the backdoor and hopped around in silent glee. If he could pull this off he could get two kills tonight.

__________

He shimmied through and began listening for bodies. He heard something on the ground floor with him. He crept around the kitchen and opened a small door. It was a laundry room and there in the corner was his prize.

A beautiful golden retriever, none the wiser to his presence. He knelt beside it and it started to stir. He quickly clamped his hand around its mouth squeezing enough for it to yelp. He snapped his neck, taking its collar in his pocket. He lifted the dog over his shoulder and made his way under Blake’s window. He threw a couple of stones at the window and it wasn’t long until Blake opened it.

He was surprised to see Peter, even more, surprised to see him holding PopTart over his shoulder.

“Parker, what the hell are you doing here?” He whispered loudly.

“Hey, is this your dog? I don’t think she’s doing too well.” Peter bit back a smile. It was almost too easy. He watched as Blake began to panic before rushing away from the window.

Peter heard him open the front door and dropped the dog before scaling the side of the house to get a better view. Blake looked around briefly for Peter before falling to his knees in front of his dog. Peter watched as Blake began to shake her more and more before crying out.

“You know,” Blake’s head shot up at hearing Peter’s voice looking around before finally seeing him clinging to the side of his house. “You should really lock your doggy door.”

Blake said nothing as his brain continued to process. Peter lept off as he balled his fists together, knocking blake on the head. He picked them both up, one on each shoulder, “Really, any old creep could get in.”

__________

Peter returned to you at two am exhausted but very happy. When you woke up the next morning in his arms you were none the wiser about his escapades. Aunt May made you breakfast before you carpooled to school. You teased Peter for being such a morning person when you still felt groggy. Peter only chuckled, offering you some of his coffee and you took an appreciative sip.

You had a great day and Peter did too. He seemed extra affectionate, hugging you from behind, kissing you on the cheek. You appreciated it after feeling neglected for a month. You couldn’t remember the last time Peter seemed so happy.

That didn’t last when you walked in together on school Thursday. Peter immediately took notice of the extra cops in the school. He walked you to your locker and stared them down over your shoulder. They didn’t seem to suspect him. Why would they, they couldn’t know, right?

In English, he noticed a mob around Gwen Stacy. He took his seat listening in, “Yeah, my dad said Blake is missing. They think he might have run away or something. His window was open and his dog is missing too.”

He heard someone ask if she thought he was murdered, “My dad won’t tell me anything else but I’m sure he’s fine.”

Peter knew he wasn’t, Peter knew where he was. He was gone, unable to hurt you again.

That night at dinner May seemed on edge. “(Y/n), I know your parents are out of town but I would prefer it if you spent the night here.”

You looked at her confused and Peter shared your expression. “Mrs Parker, you know I’m never one to turn down an invitation. Are you worried about me being alone?”

May took a sip of water, and Peter recognised this look. She was worried but didn’t want to worry anyone else. Always the protector, never the protected. “I know it’s probably nothing but with those murders in the park and that kid missing…it has me worried. I don’t want you in that house alone. If anything happened to you-”

“Nothing would ever happen to her.” Peter hadn’t meant to say it. He hadn’t meant to snap like that. He felt anger rise in his gut at the insinuation, that May thought he would ever hurt you. Of course, she didn’t know that she had implied that, but he did and it angered him.

He melted a little when you rested your hand on his. He looked into your sad eyes and let himself be swaddled in your tone. “I know you would never let anything happen to me, okay Pete? I’m not going anywhere.”

You were so sweet and kind. To you, his outburst was out of fear. The fear of losing anyone else. You had held him as he cried over Uncle Ben, listening to his last voicemail on repeat. You had consoled him as a child when someone told him his parents hadn’t died they just didn’t love him enough to stay. You had been there for him, and he was determined to do the same.

That week you stayed at the Parker’s. You opted to just change at home as it was just across the street, instead of trying to pack all those clothes. Peter always accompanied you. He took the time to pick out your outfits and raid your panty drawer. He was a sick fuck and he knew it, but he couldn’t help himself.

By the following Friday, Peter was getting restless. Spending every night with you was nice but he needed to get out again. His brain was foggy and he couldn’t focus on anything, even you weren’t helping.

That night when braiding your hair Peter grew curious. He wanted to tell you but he couldn’t, not yet. “So what do you think happened to that Blake kid?”

You were quiet for a minute and Peter worried you might not have heard him. “I think I chase boys away.”

That definitely wasn’t the response he was expecting, “What?”

He tied off the end of your braid and turned you around in his lap so you were facing him. You rested your hands on the back of his neck, head turned unable to look at him.

“It’s like, any guy that might like me just…disappears.” Peter raised his eyebrows, shocked you could even piece that together. You hadn’t said anything before.

“What do you mean?” Peter knew exactly what you meant but needed to know how much you knew.

“Well first it was Noah, he left me at the dance and then left forever. There was Micheal who flirted with me for a bit and then three days before our date just vanished. And now Blake, he just complimented my skirt. I’m not even sure he was into me but it was enough and now he…he ran away.” Peter could hear your voice breaking and moved to grab your chin. You didn’t fight as he raised it, levelling your gaze.

“Hey, it’s their fucking loss, okay? You are the most amazing person I know, anyone would be lucky to have you.” You sniffled and he continued. “Besides, none of those guys are worth a shit. No one is compared to you, little lamb.”

He placed a gentle kiss on your cheek before tucking you in and curling into your side. It wasn’t long before you were asleep and Peter snuck out to go to the park.

You woke up in the middle of the night. You felt cold. You realised then that Peter wasn’t in bed with you. You went downstairs to get a glass of water. Maybe Peter was right to give you water before bed, he didn’t tonight and now you couldn’t sleep.

You called out softly for him, but he didn’t answer. Was he not home? You checked the clock on the stove: 1:45. He shouldn’t be out. You made your way to the living room window and were surprised to see his car wasn’t there.

You were worried making your back upstairs. You climbed back into bed, tossing and turning unable to sleep. That’s when you noticed his closet was open. It was never opened. You stared at the small crack in the door, it called your name like a siren’s song. You told yourself you were only going to grab a hoodie, you were cold. You weren’t going to snoop.

You wish you never had. You wish you could go back to before you knew. When you first opened it you saw chalk on the wall. A bunch of tally marks. You thought it was odd. Then you noticed there were no clothes in here. The shelves were lined with odd trinkets, rings, a shoelace. You noticed a ziplock baggie with hair, a date hastily scribbled on, and you began to get nauseous. You noticed a dog collar, the tag glinting in the moonlight. You flipped it over and your heart fell to the floor.

It was from the dog down the street. You remembered seeing the same name and collar on the missing sign. The address lined up too. You began digging and you found more collars, more jewellery, even keys.

You found a bloody baseball card in the same bag as a dog collar. You turned it over, PopTart Walsh. Your hands shook as you realised what you were looking at. His trophies. There were so many, this had to be going on for years. You turned to the chalkboard and began counting the tallies.

“900” You gasped dropping the collar with a loud clatter. You hadn’t heard him come in.

“Well, it is now. Technically, there are 899 tallies there, but after tonight,” he held up a pair of headphones already bagged and dated, “It’s 900.”

You took slow steps back and he matched each one, hands turned out. Your back met the wall and you squeaked as you realised you had backed yourself into the closet.

“Woah there, little lamb, be careful. You don’t want to hurt yourself.” His smile looked sickening in the moonlight. You had never felt fear like this before. You had started crying, cheeks feeling itchy as each tear dried.

“Aw, you poor thing. Why don’t you come on out of there and we can go to bed.” His tone was the same as always, gentle and soothing. You didn’t like it anymore, it seemed false now. Now that you knew he was anything but gentle. But what could you do?

You took slow steps forward feeling your heart drop with every pace towards his open arms. He held you tightly, pinning your arms to your sides, as he nuzzled your neck with his nose. You felt sick, you hated that his touch still made feel special. After everything you’d seen, after everything you know, you still find yourself melting into his embrace.

Peter feels your heartbeat start to steady and pulls away slightly. He cradles your face, your hair stuck between his palms and your cheeks. He tuts as he wipes your tears with his thumbs, “Why aren’t you in bed, little one?”

Your breathing was still quick but you tried your best to answer. “I- I was cold. You were gone. I got- I got scared.”

You felt your eyes start to water again and Peter fixed you with a soft smile. One that would usually make you feel all warm and fuzzy inside. “Little lamb, you have nothing to be afraid of.”

He observed you for a while, trying to decide his next move. You knew now. The cat’s out of the bag and one of this size certainly can’t be swept under the rug. This was going to change everything.

“You have a choice,” His tone was low and silky. You shuddered as his breath ran over the bridge of your nose. “You can try and run, but I assure you, you won’t get very far.”

Your stomach dropped at his words as if the gravity of the situation finally hit you. You were in danger. You were in danger because your best friend was a serial killer and would kill you to not get caught. Peter had never threatened you before. Not even jokingly.

“Or, you can be a good little girl and wait for me.” Your blood ran cold at the nickname. It wasn’t one he used often. You could count on one hand the amount of times he had used it in the 10 years you’ve known him.

You nodded your head and he tutted again, “Words, darling.”

You swallowed, your mouth suddenly feeling dry, “I’ll be good.”

Peter seemed satisfied by your answer and rewarded you with a kiss on the forehead. You sat on his bed as you heard the water start to run. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from the closet door. The more you looked into the inky blackness the more it seemed to pull you in. Your head hurt. Suddenly you couldn’t breathe. Wild thoughts began to race through your mind.

How long had this been going on?

Were you dying right now?

Had he poisoned you?

Was he going to kill you anyway?

Had he really killed 900 people?

Before you realised what you were doing you felt the morning dew on your bare feet. The sensation shocked you back into your body. You left. You weren’t a good girl, you had left. And now Peter was going to punish you, probably in a deadly capacity. You considered turning back, but the thought of looking in that closet again almost made you hurl on the Parker’s front lawn.

You made your way across the street and went up to your room. You didn’t bother locking the door. If Peter wanted to get to you, you doubted a locked door would stop him. You raced up the stairs and into your ensuite bathroom.

You felt like a wreck, Your head pounding as your stomach expelled everything it could. You rinsed your mouth out and began brushing your teeth, wanting to rid your mouth of the bitter taste of bile. After rinsing your face you turned back to your room. You climbed into bed facing the window, you didn’t see any movement yet. Everything seemed still at the Parker house. For a moment you thought you might have dreamed it. Just a moment though.

“You ran away.” His voice was stone, sending shivers down your spine.

You curled into yourself as if that would somehow save you, “No, I didn’t”

You heard his footfall on the carpet, he was right behind you now, “Arguing isn’t going to help you, little lamb.”

You felt his hand grip your shoulder. It hurt as he ripped at it, pulling you to face him. The shadows of the room painted him in an eerie light. His hood was pulled over his face, only his mouth illuminated by the velvety glow of the street lights.

“I couldn’t-” You took a deep breath, suddenly feeling breathless again. “I couldn’t stay in there. I felt like the darkness was going to swallow me up.”

Peter’s demeanour changed, it was like your words flicked a switch. His countenance changed to one of pity. You weren’t sure you liked it. He sat by your legs before bending over and picking you up. It felt unnatural, the strength he had, the way he lifted you like it was nothing.

He tucked you into his chest, stroking your hair. “Poor thing, I’m so sorry you had to see that. I know you weren’t ready.” You stayed silent, unsure of what to say.

“I’m sure you have questions,” he left a quick peck on your scalp, “ask away.”

You thought for a moment before opening your mouth, “Have you really killed 900 people?”

He chuckled, the rumbling shaking your body, “No, that’s just how many things I’ve killed. I started the tally not long before you came along. It’s mostly bugs and animals. I’ve only killed 9 people.”

You almost laughed at the absurdity, only 9. As if ending a human life wasn’t such a big deal. It wasn’t much only 9. You asked the only question you could think of next. The one you were burning to know since you first realised. The one you feared the most. “Why?”

Peter was silent for a moment, seemingly thinking through his answer. “Many reasons. I like it, for starters. It feels good. Most of them deserved it, well that’s not true I suppose. Those Joggers didn’t do anything wrong but Noah and Michael and Blake,” he said the last name with so much venom you winced.

“They deserved it.” He was quiet for a minute and you thought maybe he was done. You shifted to look at his face. You had begun to hate yourself in this exchange. You shouldn’t enjoy sitting in his lap like this. You shouldn’t think he’s pretty. You shouldn’t fantasize about his pulling you close into an earth-shattering kiss. But you were and you hated yourself for that.

He moved a fallen strand of hair from your face before resting his hand there, “I didn’t mean to kill Noah. I really didn’t. But I can’t say that I’m sorry for it either.”

“You seem pretty sure of your actions. I wouldn’t expect you to be.” He chuckled again at your words. You hated yourself for the pride blooming in your chest at making him laugh.

His face fell again as he sighed, “When Uncle Ben died I was devastated. He was killed…all because he couldn’t mind his own business. As I watched my uncle bleed out I was horrified but also…excited? That’s not the right word. I watched as the blood left his body and I felt, I dunno, alive. It was like his life was being poured into mine, and it was beautiful.”

Your brows knitted together as he spoke, it was terrifying to hear him talk like that. “I was given powers and I knew what I had to do. I had to avenge him. That’s why his life force was given to me, so I could kill the fucker that got him.”

You nodded your head slowly, that was really the only thing Peter had said that made sense. His righteous anger was justified. “Did you? Did you kill him I mean?”

Peter’s smile stretched, pulling out the dimples in his face, “Yes, I did.”

You mulled his words over, growing confused again, “You said you got powers? What kind of powers? Why- Why do this?”

Peter threw his head back as a laugh ripped through his chest. You braced your hands on his biceps in fear. “Oh, little lamb, I have been chosen by the universe, given the strength of a god, given the power of a god. This is what I was meant to do.”

You shook your head, not wanting to accept that Peter was made for such horrors. “Why not use your powers for good?”

He tilted his head like a puppy, brows furrowed and mouth pulled into a pout. You thought for a moment that you had gotten to him, that maybe you had turned him to the light. “I’m using them to protect you. What better good is there?”

You shook your head burying it in his chest. He was doing this for you. It was your fault Blake was dead. It was your fault those joggers in the park would never go home to their families. It was all your fault. You began sobbing gripping his jacket in your shaky palms. Peter shooshed you, rubbing soothing circles on your back.

“I think that’s enough for tonight.” He pulled back the blankets and let you sink into the mattress. He stripped down to his boxers and climbed in behind you, holding you close to his chest. “Sleep now, it’ll all be fine in the morning.”

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