#mob peter fan club

[backtothefanfiction]

Who’s ready for a surprise character in todays chapter of Angel?

[scotianostra]

The actor Peter Blake was born on December 8th 1948 in Selkirk.

Unless you are a fan of the John Sullivan comedy, Dear John, you might not have heard of Peter Blake. Peter described himself as “the man who was nearly famous three times”, those occasions being for the sitcoms Dear John and Agony and a series of TV advertisements for Pepsi in the mid-1970s.

Born as John Beattie Dempsey his parents must have been proud Scots, they always referred to him as Ian. For those that are unaware Ian is the Scottish Gaelic term for John in return he termed them “a Border Maiden” and “a Scottish Soldier”.

Although the family moved south to Worcestershire when he was young, they returned home often on visits, most often during the Selkirk Common Riding in June.

After failing to make it as pop star Blake trained at what is now the Royal Conservatoire of Scotland, in Glasgow, he made his debut in Frank Dunlop’s production of The Winter’s Tale at the Assembly Rooms, Edinburgh, in 1966). Three years later saw him as a “Stage Manager – not a part!” in strip clubs in Soho, before an Amsterdam production of Hair led to its West End version at the Shaftesbury. Pharaoh in Joseph And The Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat and Pontius Pilate in Jesus Christ Superstar, followed, he was however most well known on stage for playing Frank-N-Furter in The Rocky Horror Show over a thousand times between 1975 and 1994.

While his bread and butter was on the stage Peter made appearances in some well known shows through the years including, in the 70's Minder, Shoestring and Z Cars, he was also in all episodes of the Sitcom Agony as smarmy radio disc jockey Andy Evol. During the 80's he was in Murphy's Mob, Shine on Harvey Moon and Just Good Friends, it was also in the 80's he appeared in one of my fave sitcoms, Dear John as the resplendent Kirk St Moritz, dressed in white suit, big collars and golden medallion.

During the 90's he was in four episodes of the Scottish sitcom City Lights with the late great Gerard Kelly, as well as several episodes of Smith and Jones, in the new millenium, like every other self respected Scottish actor, he was in Taggart as well as the Bill and four episodes of Eastenders. Peter also appeared and sang in an advert for Pepsi Cola.

Peter Blake passed away on July 21st 2018 aged 69.

[sab-cat]

Nov 8, 2024 The game between Israel's Maccabi Tel Aviv and the Dutch Ajax team ended in a tie. What happened after, outside the lines, was a clear loss. Hundreds of riot police deployed across the city after chaos and violence erupted, this a scene showing a mob running with clubs, and this an eyewitness video capturing Israeli fans running in fear. One says "I'm not Jewish" as he was repeatedly punched and kicked to the ground. Israel's embassy in Washington posted this footage showing a cornered Israeli fan. More than 60 people were arrested and five victims were hospitalized and released. But tensions had been mounting for days, and the aggression was not one-sided. Video from the night before the game shows Israeli soccer fans cheering as someone tears down a Palestinian flag. And police chief Peter Holla told reporters that Maccabi Tel Aviv fans had attacked a taxi driver and burned a Palestinian flag the day before the game. Israeli fans were also captured chanting "Eff the Arabs" as they descended an escalator ahead of the match. In violence following the game, the mayor of Amsterdam said the assailants actively sought out Israeli fans. It's unclear whether the attacks were preplanned.

[newstfionline]

Saturday, November 9, 2024

‘Total Nightmare’ as Wildfire Burns Through Southern California Homes (NYT) Firefighters struggled across steep terrain on Thursday to battle a fast-moving fire fueled by fierce winds in the jagged hills northwest of Los Angeles. The flames burned numerous homes, forced more than 10,000 people to evacuate and prompted Gov. Gavin Newsom of California to declare a state of emergency. The blaze, known as the Mountain fire, broke out in Ventura County on Wednesday morning and had grown to more than 20,000 acres. By Thursday evening, the wildfire had destroyed over 130 structures and damaged nearly 90 others, and it was only 5 percent contained, fire officials said.

Mexico appears to abandon its ‘hugs, not bullets’ strategy as bloodshed plagues the country (AP) For the last six years, Mexico bragged about its oft-questioned “hugs, not bullets” strategy, in which its leaders avoided confrontations with drug cartels that were gradually taking control of large parts of the country. The thinking was that social programs, not shootouts, would gradually drain the pool of cartel gunmen. Now, a month into the term of new President Claudia Sheinbaum, a string of bloody confrontations suggests the government is quietly abandoning the “no bullets” part of that strategy and is much more willing to use the full force of the military and the militarized National Guard. “There are traces of a change in tone toward organized crime, but it’s too early to call,” said Falko Ernst, a security analyst. “It seems unlikely that the Sheinbaum administration would risk a politically inconvenient, steady stream of violent imagery by betting on wholesale balazos (bullets)-only strategy,” but there may be more willingness to confront “the most overt and brazen displays of power” by the cartels.

Brazil: Beware of scorpions (AFP) In Brazil, higher temperatures, warming habitats, and increases in urbanization next to previously wild areas have combined for a sharp spike in scorpion stings, with scorpions becoming the most lethal poisonous animal in Brazil. The temperature increase means that scorpion metabolism is way up, which makes them more active and, thus, feistier. Last year, 152 deaths from scorpion stings exceeded the 140 deaths from snakebites in the country, and that’s significantly more scorpion-related fatalities than in 2019, when 95 people died from scorpions. According to the health ministry, there were over 200,000 scorpion sting incidents in Brazil last year, averaging 550 stings per day.

Israeli football fans attacked in Amsterdam, officials say (Foreign Policy) Overnight attacks on Israeli soccer fans in Amsterdam left at least five people hospitalized on Friday. According to the Israeli Embassy in the Netherlands, hundreds of Maccabi Tel Aviv supporters were attacked after Thursday’s match against Ajax Amsterdam, traditionally identified as a Jewish club. “Mobs chanted anti-Israel slogans and proudly shared videos of their violent acts on social media—kicking, beating, even running over Israeli citizens,” the embassy posted on X. Online footage shows some attackers shouting anti-Israeli slurs. Riot police were deployed to escort the Maccabi fans safely back to their hotels, and police detained more than 60 suspects, 10 of whom remain in custody as of this writing. Tensions were already high ahead of the match: Amsterdam police chief Peter Holla confirmed that Maccabi supporters on Wednesday had torn down a Palestinian flag from a building in the city center and set fire to it as well as attacked a taxi, and authorities banned a pro-Palestinian demonstration near the stadium. Online video also showed Maccabi fans chanting racist anti-Arab slurs and anti-Palestinian slogans ahead of the match.

Russians envision new global system with Trump victory (Washington Post) Across the corridors of power in Moscow, the win for Trump’s populist campaign, which argued that America should focus on its domestic woes over aiding countries like Ukraine was, being hailed as a potential victory for Russia’s efforts to carve out its own sphere of influence in the world. In even broader terms, it was seen as a victory for conservative, isolationist forces supported by Russia against a liberal, Western-dominated global order setting the rules for the entire world that the Kremlin (and its allies) have been seeking to undermine. “We have won,” said Alexander Dugin, the Russian ideologue who has long pushed an imperialist agenda for Russia. “…The world will be never ever like before. Globalists have lost their final combat,” he wrote on X.

2 million at risk of starvation in Myanmar state amid ‘total economic collapse’ (Guardian) According to the U.N., 2 million people living in Myanmar’s Rakhine state are at risk of starvation as local conflicts and trade blockades have pushed the region towards “total economic collapse” thanks to an extended conflict between the Arakan Army (an ethnic Rakhine separatist group) and Myanmar’s state military. The two sides have been locked in fighting since late last year, and the state military has imposed strong trade restrictions on the state to starve out the militant group. Some people, according to a U.N. official, have resorted to eating rice bran, which is normally used as animal feed. Monthly incomes in the state have dropped from 66,600 kyat ($31.70) to about 46,620 kyat ($22.21) since last year—with current prices, people are barely able to afford enough rice to eat on that budget, much less pay for housing or any other necessities.

China Reveals $1.4 Trillion Plan to Bail Out Local Governments (NYT) The Chinese government on Friday approved a $1.4 trillion plan to revive the economy, authorizing local governments to refinance crushing debts that have left some cities unable to pay their bills. The move caps a series of steps that China’s leaders started rolling out in September to stimulate growth. China’s economy has struggled to regain momentum this year. The grinding collapse of the real estate market, where most Chinese households build their wealth, has depressed prices and left consumers reluctant to spend. Home prices have fallen about 10 percent a year for the past three years, and foreclosures are soaring. At the same time, local governments have piled up unsustainable levels of debt. For years, they drove growth by borrowing enormous sums to pay for infrastructure projects. Then they took on even more of debt during the Covid-19 pandemic.

Typhoon floods villages, rips off roofs and damages 2 domestic airports in northern Philippines (AP) Typhoon Yinxing battered the northern Philippines with floods and landslides before blowing away from the country on Friday, leaving two airports damaged and aggravating a calamity caused by back-to-back storms that hit in recent weeks. The typhoon flooded villages, toppled trees and electricity poles, and damaged houses and buildings in Cagayan province, where Yinxing made landfall Thursday afternoon. There were no immediate reports of casualties from Yinxing, the 13th major storm to hit the disaster-prone Southeast Asian archipelago this year.

Trump to Renew ‘Maximum Pressure’ Campaign Against Iran (WSJ) President-elect Donald Trump plans to drastically increase sanctions on Iran and throttle its oil sales as part of an aggressive strategy to undercut Tehran’s support of violent Mideast proxies and its nuclear program, according to people briefed on his early plans. Trump took a dim view of Iran during his first term, aborting a six-nation agreement with Tehran—known as the Joint Comprehensive Plan of Action—that sought to curb Iran’s nuclear weapons work. He also imposed what was described as a “maximum pressure” strategy in hopes Iran would abandon ambitions for a nuclear weapon, stop funding and training what the U.S. considers terrorist groups and improve its human-rights record. But when he takes office on Jan. 20, Trump’s approach to Iran is likely to be colored by the knowledge that its agents tried to assassinate him and former top national security aides after they left office, former Trump officials said. Iran is believed to be seeking revenge for a 2020 U.S. drone strike that killed Qassem Soleimani, head of Iran’s covert paramilitary operations. The people briefed on Trump’s plans and in touch with his top advisers said the new team would move rapidly to try to choke off Iran’s oil income, including going after foreign ports and traders who handle Iranian oil.

In Trump victory, Netanyahu sees himself as ‘the great winner’ (Washington Post) Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu rejoiced over Donald Trump’s election victory, as he banked on resetting relations with Washington and following through on his maximalist aims in the country’s multifront war. Netanyahu congratulated Trump on “history’s greatest comeback” in a post on X Wednesday morning as the results became clear, but before many had made a final call, hailing his return to the White House as “a new beginning for America and a powerful recommitment to the great alliance” between the U.S. and Israel. “It’s time for total victory,” crowed Itamar Ben Gvir, Netanyahu’s far-right national security minister, in an address to the Knesset on Wednesday, adding that he was confident Trump would see “eye to eye” with Israel on “all sorts of laws” that he has been trying to push through, including the death penalty for Palestinians convicted of terrorism. Israel Ganz, head of a council representing Israeli settlers across the occupied West Bank, celebrated the moment as a historic “opportunity for the settlement movement,” which has already made significant gains since Netanyahu returned to power in 2022.

Nearly 70% of verified Gaza war dead women and children, UN rights office says (Reuters) The U.N. Human Rights Office said on Friday nearly 70% of the fatalities it has verified in the Gaza war were women and children, and condemned what it called a systematic violation of the fundamental principles of international humanitarian law. The youngest victim whose death was verified by U.N. monitors was a one-day-old boy, and the oldest was a 97-year-old woman, the report said. Overall, children represented 44% of the victims, with children aged five-nine representing the single biggest age category.

Nigeria’s major cities suffer blackouts as the power grid collapses yet again (AP) Nigeria’s major cities including Abuja, Lagos and Kano suffered blackouts Thursday as the country’s electricity grid collapsed in the tenth such outage to hit the power system this year. Africa’s most populous country has the potential to generate 13,000 megawatts, but can only transmit 4,000 megawatts due to weak infrastructure, the transmission company said last year. That amount is not enough for a population of more than 200 million people. Apart from weak infrastructure, armed groups have also sabotaged power supplies. Last month, the northern part of the country was without power for more than seven days after insurgents vandalized transmission lines.

A Bad Day at Work (NYT) A caretaker entered an enclosure at a research center in South Carolina on Wednesday, cleaning the space and feeding the 50 rhesus monkeys inside. But on leaving, she failed to latch the double doors behind her. Forty-three monkeys saw a rare chance at freedom and took it, racing out of the enclosure. “It’s kind of like follow-the-leader—one goes out and there’s, like, a mad dash,” said Greg Westergaard, the chief executive of Alpha Genesis, which runs the research center. Now officials in the surrounding town of Yemassee, roughly 60 miles west of Charleston, are urging residents to close their doors and windows, and to avoid interacting with the animals. For the most part, nearby residents have been unfazed by the loose monkeys, said David Paul Murray, a town council member. It seems to happen a lot: 26 primates escaped from the facility in 2014, then there was another breakout of 19 in 2016, and then it was fined in 2018 related to escape of “dozens of primates.” “We’re not strangers to seeing monkeys randomly,” Murray said. “It’s something you don’t really think about until one runs across the road and you’re like, wait, what?”

[backtothefanfiction]

You are honestly gonna make me cry 😢! Your love and support for this series has made it all worth it. I honestly don’t know what we’re both gonna do when it all gets wrapped up- *GASPS EXTREMELY DRAMATICALLY* NEXT WEEK! *does an old Victorian lady faint.

Thank you so much for always sharing your thoughts and reblogging so others can find it too. This story really has wormed it’s way into my heart and to know it’s done the same for someone else just makes me feel so proud.

This Friday Fic Rec is one for those of you who like to....linger...over a story kinda like the lingering looks those big brown doe eyes above are giving you. A multi chapter story featuring mob!peter parker and an OC with a twist. Love and loss and learning how to communicate are not easy things, but with a longer story, there's time for everyone to figure it out...and the best part is the story still continues. Read @backtothefanfiction 's The Angel In The Garden Of Evil as it joins some of the other fantastic mob!peter fics currently in the fanfic library.

The Angel In The Garden Of Evil (fic contains mature content)

Remember to reblog fics and works you enjoy! Reblogging (it's the little arrows next to the heart) is how Tumblr works to spread content to other users. Please reblog what you enjoy so others can enjoy it too!

[sucker4starker]

Okay so I'm a big fan of the suicide squad 1 soundtrack. I listened to it on my way home yesterday and it gave me a great idea.

Starker but inspired by Joker and Harley Quinn's story

So, hear me out:

- Tony being NYC's biggest mob boss finally behind bars

- Peter being the young but lonely psychiatrist assigned to Tony

- Peter slowly falling in love with the dangerous man, who exploits the feelings to get out of jail

- Tony now being free, tortures Peter for messing with his mind

- Peter following Tony and trying to persuade him of letting him in

- Tony letting Peter prove his devotion to him and starting to slowly get attached himself

- Peter slowly getting into his role as a part of the mob boss's business, finally letting loose of being good and turning crazy

- Peter dancing in Tony's club, while Tony's doing business in the VIP section

- some buisness partner makes a comment about Peter but Tony isn't having that

- he calls Peter to him, "gifting" him to the other man, who realises his mistake and not wanting beef

- Peter goes along with it, seducingly climbing into the man's lap

- Tony getting jealous even tho he started it, then killing the man, taking Peter home and showing him who he belongs to

That's not even half of the story currently playing on my mind. Tell me, what you think and if you want to read it. I already started writing xD

[girlfriendsofthegalaxy]

tuesday again 9/6/2022

back to exchanging labor for goods and services on thursday. there's a cool new tumblr bug where i cannot insert youtube videos into a draft so i'll see if i can edit those in at some point after this posts

listening Money, Money, Money by ABBA. i am not a big ABBA fan. my best friend is. sometimes i listen to one of their songs to indulge her bc she's my best friend and occasionally listening to an artist i don't actively enjoy is a very small friendship maintenance price. sometimes i'm like "oh fuck this slaps actually". i don't have the music theory words to explain why i like the chorus so much? it sounds like this kaomoji ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ

-

reading reread On the Beach by Neville Shute, still percolating thoughts through my brain bc it is so different from "modern" nuclear apocalypse books and bc i have been laid low by head hurty for most of the week.

however, an article, bc "violence-as-a-service" made me fucking cackle and this is an interesting turn in the standard practice of "cybercriminals siccing local police forces at their enemies":

it is exceptionally fucking funny to me that the newest breed of mobster has reinvented the mob hit. and of course the dipshit who got arrested in the article is from just outside atlantic city. now, everyone who lives in jersey is holding their nose and looking the other way to some extent. atlantic city is a place i would not recommend experiencing in person but is very difficult to describe.

-

watching a lotta nonsense mostly, but let's talk about Robin and the 7 Hoods (1964, dir Douglas). i watched this whole fuckin movie specifically for the scene with the club that turns into a revivalist meeting to hide from the cops by way of a giant rotating floor and hidden compartments. honestly a masterpiece of set design.

not a ton to say about the "excuse for hanging out with my friends" Sinatra vehicle itself, not a ton of fun facts about production (apparently this movie barely got made due to the kidnapping of Sinatra's son, a falling out with the actor replaced by Bing Crosby, and the JFK assassination), not even a lot of terribly good songs, but it does have a notable girlboss and manages to be funny despite itself. it is a movie About prohobition in chicago but it is also About "I can make a mob movie because I can, and I think I'm being very droll" from Frank "mob connections" Sinatra.

i have one more Rat Pack movie left after this bc i have already seen the original Oceans' Eleven (YIKES) and will be skipping Sergeants Three for reasons that will be instantly obvious upon reading the description: "Three cavalry officers and a bugler work together to thwart a Native American chief intent on uniting local tribes against the white man."

i did not understand the peter f/alk surge of interest until i watched this. watching him move on screen is delightful. best sense of comedic timing in this extremely long movie and WHAT is he doing NEXT with his HANDS???

-

playing breath of the wild is a very forgiving game bc it let me solve the thundra plateau shrine puzzle in the stupidest way possible. rot13 below bc i feel like being polite even though this is not a new game (image from this article, which also contains spoilers)

whfg tbys-onyyvat gur pbybeshy beof bagb gur prageny cyngsbez jvgu jungrire zryrr jrncba v unq unaql naq fgnfvf VAFGRNQ BS gur guvat v qvq juvpu jnf guebjvat gurz bss gur cyngsbezf gurl jrer ba, pneelvat gurz gb gur pbyyncfrq rqtr bs gur cyngsbez, sybngvat gurz hc bire gur yvc jvgu onyybbaf, naq gura fgngvf + neebjf gb xabpx gurz bagb gur cyngsbez cebcre. va gur enva. trggvat uvg ol yvtugavat n ybg. yvax v nz fb fbeel v sbetbg gur ehoore nezbe rkvfgrq naq v unq vg va zl vairagbel

it's good open-world game design to support as many solutions as possible even if some of them are very goofy

-

making fallow week

[tarzinnia]

Positivity Night Shout Out

This is for @withahappyrefrain 's Positivity Night. What a great idea! I hope I did this correctly Abby.

I follow a number of creators and some of them even follow me back! It's been a great experience and so here is some appreciation and good vibes...thanks Abby for doing this!

In no particular order and some with a lil blurb lagniappe as I've gotten to know them. This is long but ya know, I'm not at the Oscars on a time limit so read it or keep scrolling past. Your choice.

@blooming-violets aka @eatbrainsfordinner gave me some great advice when I first joined on how not to get blocked due to blog appearance and has an amazing library of fics that sent me down a rabbit hole. Plus in possession of a side-holding you will fall out of your chair sense of humor. Laughter can give us hope and I know that some of her comment/replies just put me in a better frame of mind.

@liz-allyn whose mob!peter fic Sugar and Vice (all of her work really) just blows me away. If you haven't got Honey, life just isn't sweet at all at all. All her content just radiates emotion. Depth. It's all there.

@webslingingslasher such a talent and so very very kind to everyone. Am enthralled with nerd!peter/frat!peter. I have no clue where the late night sleepover energy comes from though. I am in awe.

@sincericida no one tops her blog for Andrew Garfield content. No one. I check it more frequently than I do the daily news. Could get lost for days with the top tier content. A real sweetheart, too. Always answers asks.

@luvablehand a winsome writer with great imagination. Absolutely love that there is an updated list of WIPs on the blog so I know what is coming.

@periprose Nice blogger and her Peter Parker is adorable. Completed chapter fic Florence is great.

@theradioactivespidergwen aka @she-likesorchids great writer across multiple fandoms and great wit. We share a love of various sandwiches, know that dressing is superior to stuffing, and think sweater weather is amazing. It's glorious.

@reidslovely haunting haunting writing that stays with me. Love our interactions when I have questions about a story/plot/character. Has been writing more mob!peter and I am a member of the mob!peter fan club for life.

@loveroftoomanyfandoms I came for the Peter Parker fics and somehow acquired a Matt Murdock on the hot guy keyfob. Personality shines through on her blog and is such a joy. ((HUGS)) Always love interacting and living vicariously through the 'where is Charlie this week' adventures. (Couple more months and he's going to be eating some mighty fine food in NOLA) Our food chats have been awesome and when food found it's way as the theme in a story, well I cannot say enough about how enjoyable that's been.

@p3mybeloved another great Spider-man fandom creator. Read on here and AO3.

@ficthots writes for the fandom that is number one in my heart (TASM) and LIghtning Bugs makes me cry but it's that good kind of tears.

@delicate-dorothea sweet sweet writing that is addictive to read. Really looking forward to continuing to read and follow.

@backtothefanfiction someone I just started following but wow, am currently enthralled with a multi chapter mob!peter fic (The Angel In The Garden Of Evil) that has blown me away. Been a lot of fun to follow the character arcs and the twists and turns. Love writing essays for this creator when I reblog because the back and forth has been wonderful and enriching. I know the longer series can be so hard to write and maintain but they are a feast when you can find them. I've had a front row seat and am looking forward to more works in the future.

@helloheyhihowdyheya Love her works. Reading Rose Thorn Blues right now, and if asked to pick a fave out of the masterlist of Spider-man fics I'm not sure I could because they're all my babies.

@thursdaygxrls so much imagination in her writing, love it and love all the fics. Am currently following two: Thin Ice and Infrunami.

@withahappyrefrain Abby, whose Peter Parker won me over from the get go and then wrote TGM fics that added more hot male characters to the keyfob. Perfect sense of humor, never afraid to call out haters, and you just glow with sunshine and flowers right when I need it most. Big hugs and a shout out.

Other bloggers reblogging content is how I ran across many of you listed above so readers and content creators: reblog whatever you enjoy because it's really what keeps Tumblr active and engaging. When I'm not writing, I'm enjoying what others create and the inspiration and encouragement and words you share is wonderful and thank you for the effort you put into what you do!

[tarzinnia]

Rebloggers (of whomever, but especially of @withahappyrefrain) are not considered stalkers, and bingeing fanfic is like the essential oil/panacea of fandom. Without bingeing, we would all be walking around with our cheek muscles twitching due to stress. Plus it is written into the rules (unwritten due to the code of silence of the rules) of the mob!peter fan club that one must reblog all things. So you've got this. So let it be (un)written, so let it be done. Bonus points to everyone who got that reference....

Edit to add: extreme apologies for the spelling mishap of bingeing, I blame the extra glass of wine and I'm too lazy to correct it whilst yet being drunk enough to type out this edit.

Can I borrow your height?

Summary: Reader is quite short and is in need of someone tall to help her get a book off the highest shelf. Her assistance comes in the form of a tall, lanky Peter Parker.

Note: I want to thank @agnesamarantheastwood for blessing us with the concept of Peter Parker and reader having a height difference. It has been the gift that keeps on giving.

Being short had its benefits. As a child, you were a pro at hide and seek because you could fit in the smallest places. As a teenager, no one questioned if you ordered off the kids menu (which your wallet loved). As an adult, nothing was more hilarious than seeing the horror in a child’s eyes when you told them how you didn’t eat your veggies and that was why you stopped growing. And sometimes their parents appreciated it.

You worked around the disadvantages. You had three different step stools in your house of varying heights. The top shelves in your apartment were collecting dust. If friends wanted to annoy you and use you as an arm rest, you just had to deal (or make a remark about the weather up there).

But right now, in this very moment, being short sucked.

You had gone to three-yes three-different bookstores. You needed this book for your book club and knew that stores were always cheaper than websites. But each time you went, the book had been sold out. Which is why before you went here, the fourth one, you called ahead of time to see if they had in stock. Which they did!

They failed to mention it was on the highest shelf. They also failed to mention that they were too good for step stools.

Even if you stood on the first shelf-which you had no shame in doing-your arms still weren’t long enough to reach it. You began climbing up to the second shelf when your flats started to slip. There went that plan. You had checked your purse to see if you had anything long enough to help you knock it over and were out of luck.

You lurked around the store, trying to find an employee. Employees were either completely out of sight or at the register, helping people.

You sighed. What was suppose to be a quick errand was now turning into a pain in the ass.

You walked down the aisle of books, desperate to find someone-anyone-for help. You were glad you were looking up, otherwise you would have missed the sight of some long fingers reaching up for a book on the fourth shelf.

Sometimes-due to being single for so long-your mind would exaggerate how attractive someone was. Not this time. This man was the definition of handsome. He honestly looked like the guy you would see on the cover of those romance novels your book club loved so much. With that chiseled jaw that was covered in stubble, the few strands of hair that were swooping over his forehead, and those biceps that were peeking out from his T-shirt-

Those long, slender fingers were attached to a large hand, which was attached to a long arm that was attached to a very tall, very lanky, and very handsome man.

Fuck you were so single.

But nevertheless, he was quite tall. And lanky. Which you needed right now. Perhaps you could make this work to your advantage. One that wasn’t solely related to your book club.

“Um, excuse me?” As you got closer to him, you realized that you barely came up to his shoulder- and he was slouching. Was it a cliché that you had a thing for men much taller than you? Maybe. But it was a cliché for a reason.

You slowly walked over to him, his head still looking through the book he had pulled.

He looked up and wow, could you get lost in those big brown eyes. They were beautiful and well worth having to tilt your neck up so the two of you could make eye contact.

“I’m sorry to interrupt your reading of,” you looked down to see the title, “The Multiverse: Theories of Multiple Universes,” you paused “Huh. Not what I was expecting but anyways, I need to borrow your height.”

“Borrow…my height?” He repeated slowly, closing his book.

“Yes. Your height,” it then occurred to you how odd that sounded without any context, “As you can see by how far you have to look down to make eye contact with me, I’m…short. And naturally, because the universe loves to remind me of it, the book I need is on the fourth shelf. Which I saw that you were able to reach with ease.”

He let out a chuckle. You couldn't blame him. It probably never occurred to his tall, lanky self that some folks had to put in great effort to reach for things. And being his tall, stupidly handsome and lanky self, he found the concept amusing.

“So you need me to get something you can’t reach?” He asked, a sly smile appearing on his face.

“You don’t need to remind me of my literal shortcomings,” you said with a cheeky grin, “but yes. I need your height. Please.”

“Where’s the book?” You smiled. You made a notion for him to follow you and turned around, heading back to the spot that was taunting you and your height.

“You know, for someone so short you walk pretty fast,” he said, having to increase his speed in order to catch up with you.

“I like to get to where I’m going,” you paused, “I’m also the shortest one in my family. So for every step they took, I had to take two to keep up.”

“Makes sense.”

“So am I the first person who’s asked to borrow your long limbs or is this a regular occurrence for you?” You asked, wanting the small talk to continue.

“You’re not the first,” he ran a hand through his hair and wow did it look soft, “Though it’s usually senior citizens at the grocery store and not someone as-“

“Young?”

“I was going to say ‘cute’, but yes, young. I mean you don’t look like, super, super young, you look like you’re my age which you know, I can’t say the same for those senior citizens at the grocery store.”

He was rambling and you could easily put an end to it. But you didn’t want to. First off, it was fucking adorable and also your brain was too wrapped up by the fact he just called you cute.

You stopped in your tracks as the two of you had finally arrived.

“There it is,” you pointed to the book you needed.

He flashed a dazzling smile before walking up to shelves. Hardly putting any effort into it, he extended his arm up and grabbed the prized book. He held it up so it was at his eye level, reading the cover.

"Huh," He paused, "Wasn't expecting that."

You couldn't blame him. You would be surprised too if someone as tiny as you asked for a book and said book had the illustration of a chair covered in blood on it.

"It's for my book club," you explained.

"Wasn't expecting that either."

"Look, I'm trying to diversify the type of books we're reading," He still didn't look convinced, "I can't do another romance novel. Or 'thriller' where the twist is obvious as soon as chapter three."

"Well, when you say that, horror does make more sense," He held out the book for you. Your fingers brushed against his briefly as you grabbed the book.

"I feel like you're making judgements about my taste in books by their appearance. Which is ironic, considering we're in a bookstore....and you know, you're reading a book about theories on multiple universes."

He opened his mouth to speak. You were expecting something sarcastic or snarky. Which was why you were quite surprised with what he actually said.

"You're right. Can I make it up to you by getting you another book?"

You were surprised you hadn't melted into the floor by now.

"That would be amazing." Sure, your original intention when you entered this bookstore was to buy one book. But who actually did that?

You led him to the cookbook section, explaining how no, it wasn't some celebrity cookbook, it was one of your favorite bakers from The Great British Bakeoff and sure, you weren't much of a baker now but maybe with this book you could become one.

You were so wrapped up in your explanation you almost didn't see that the grin on his face had gotten bigger and how those doe eyes of his were shining at you. Almost.

He leaned over, bending his knees a bit so that the two of you were at eye-level. He handed you the book and your fingers brushed again.

This time, it seemed like he lingered, not wanting to lose contact with you. At least that's what you thought.

It was also entirely possible all those romance novels your book club had you read were rotting your brain.

"Is there anything you need to borrow from me?" He asked. This was your chance. You were going to shoot your shot and it would either make a great story or you'd go home and eat some ice cream.

"Actually, yes, there is." He raised an eyebrow, clearly caught off guard.

"I need to borrow your number," You said, trying to keep your face looking as serious as possible.

You could see his neck turning red and that crimson was slowly but surely creeping up to his face, "My number?" He ran a hand through that soft, fluffy hair must be a nervous habit.

"Yeah, I need to borrow your number so we can plan dinner."

"D-d-dinner?" You tried your best to suppress a smile, but damn was he cute when he was flustered.

"I don't know how the senior citizens do it, but it's only polite that I thank you for helping me today. And I would love to thank you by taking you out to dinner," You shifted your feet, wishing he would just give you an answer already.

Instead, he began to ramble, "...you really don't have to do that, I mean that's really nice, but I was just being a decent person, I don't think that deserves going out to dinner with you. Not that that's bad-"

"What if I told you I also want to get dinner with you because I want to keep talking to you? And get to know you better?" You'd think a guy this pretty would be good at picking up on cues and flirting. He had charm-it was there-but it was clear as day that he was rusty at this.

"You...you...want to get to know...me?"

"Yeah. Like what you do for living, why you're reading about multiple universes, how you get your hair to look so good," it was the last bit that got a laugh out of him.

"You don't even know my name," He said. He looked much more relaxed now-which was a good look on him. Though it was hard to believe he had a bad look.

"We can fix that. My name is y/n," You extended a hand out.

"Peter," He grabbed your hand, shaking it. Peter. What a lovely name.

"It's nice to meet you Peter," You paused, "Can I borrow your number now?"

He laughed again, letting go of your hand so he could reach into his back pocket to pull out his phone. You pulled out yours, handing it to him so you two could enter the needed information to become a new contact.

Being short had some great benefits. And today, that benefit came in the form of Peter Parker.

[scotianostra]

The actor Peter Blake was born on December 8th in Selkirk.

Unless you are a fan of the John Sullivan comedy, Dear John, you might not have heard of Peter Blake. Peter described himself as “the man who was nearly famous three times”, those occasions being for the sitcoms Dear John and Agony and a series of TV advertisements for Pepsi in the mid-1970s.

Born as John Beattie Dempsey his parents must have been proud Scots, they always referred to him as Ian. For those that are unaware Ian is the Scottish Gaelic term for John in return he termed them “a Border Maiden” and “a Scottish Soldier”.

Although the family moved south to Worcestershire when he was young, they returned home often on visits, most often during the Selkirk Common Riding in June.

After failing to make it as pop star Blake trained at what is now the Royal Conservatoire of Scotland, in Glasgow, he made his debut in Frank Dunlop’s production of The Winter’s Tale at the Assembly Rooms, Edinburgh, in 1966). Three years later saw him as a “Stage Manager – not a part!” in strip clubs in Soho, before an Amsterdam production of Hair led to its West End version at the Shaftesbury. Pharaoh in Joseph And The Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat and Pontius Pilate in Jesus Christ Superstar, followed, he was however most well known on stage for playing Frank-N-Furter in The Rocky Horror Show over a thousand times between 1975 and 1994

While his bread and butter was on the stage Peter made appearances in some well known shows through the years including, in the 70’s Minder, The Professionals, Shoestring and Z Cars, he was also in all episodes of the Sitcom Agony as smarmy radio disc jockey Andy Evol. During the 80’s he was in Murphy’s Mob, Shine on Harvey Moon and Just Good Friends, it was also in the 80’s he appeared in one of my fave sitcoms, Dear John as the resplendent Kirk St Moritz, dressed in white suit, big collars and golden medallion. During the 90’s he was in four episodes of the Scottish sitcom City Lights with the late great Gerard Kelly, as well as several episodes of Smith and Jones, in the new millenium, like every other self respected Scottish actor, he was in Taggart as well as the Bill and four episodes of Eastenders.

Peter Blake passed away on 21st July 2018 aged 69.

[bluebellhairpin]

( Notice: OKAY - The pic there says ‘The Hobbit/LOTR’ but for times sake, and my own sanity, there is none listed thus-far (same goes for the ‘other’ category’). Merci for understanding! )

So I’ve been meaning to do this for a while, and I already have a blog for it ( @nemosrepost ) but that doesn’t get too much attention. Thus, here we are! 

(This was a nightmare to get done - it took weeks to get all the links and pics done up in my spare time - I hope you appreciate that.) 

They’re all sorts here, from Medieval Marvel AU’S, to Modern Attack on Titan one shots. They’re all organised via fandom, and I’ve tried my best to link and tag everything properly, but that is a difficult feat, so beware - for some it may not have worked too well.

Like my *actual* masterlist, this will be updated regularly with new fic recs, and even new characters and fandoms as I read them. All fic’s currently listed (as of November 26, 2020) are found on my reblog account. 

I’ve also tried to add in a ‘recommendation summary’ thing of each - so basically just my thoughts on the fic(s). But anyway, have fun browsing, and overall - enjoy! 

(AND also - LMAOOOO - Have fun scrolling lololololol!) - Nemo

( Pre - Warning: I am not tagging anything as NSWF, 18+, or triggering content. However some fics listed do contain such material. Please refer to the warnings or Authors Notes on each Fic before reading. Stay safe guys! I love you! ) 

Bluebellhairpin’s Masterlist 

Bucky Barnes

Knight in Rusty Armour - Medieval / A/B/O AU! Series - by @revengingbarnes Honestly I binged the first eight chapters (+ prologue) in close to one sitting. That was mostly because that was all that was published at the time. It is completed now. I love both these AU’s, and I love Bucky - win, win! 

Flowers Bloom - Soulmate AU! Series - by revengingbarnes  Another great series, and honestly I’m a slut for soulmate au’s, so this author might be coming after my heart - keep up that good work, if you know what I mean. 

The Great Build Up - Modern / Firefighter Au! One Shot - by @thottybarnes  This ones goes from cute, to hot and steamy, to angsty, and back to cute again. A one shot rollercoaster, and I thoroughly enjoyed every word of it. 

Maybe This Time - Mob Au! One Shot - by @propertyofpoeandbucky Okay, so if there’s one thing I like more than an mobster au, it’s adding children into the mix. Something about big bad guys going all soft for this tiny human - and then making them - and that’s called perfection. 

Whatever It Takes - Biker AU! One Shot - by @sgtjbuccky He like’s to be loud, so what. He rides a bike, so what. I what to ride him and his bike, so what. 

(Un-Named) - One Shot - by @softlybarnes  I’ve never liked Bucky’s metal arm more in my entire life. Using it for a baby going through teething? A+ idea. 

Hero, Waiting - Medieval AU! One Shot -  by captain-ariel-barnes Sadly, this fic is unavailable now, and that - obviously - makes me sad. But I’m adding it her anyway because of how much I adored it. The love triangle between Bucky, Reader, and Steve was amazing, and the feelings? Phenomenal. 

Steve Rogers

If Walls Could Talk - One Shot - by propertyofpoeandbucky  I’ll recreate my original comment on this fic - ‘Ouch’. And that’s all I have to say about that. 

The End of the War - College AU! One Shot - by @redgillan There’s nothing quite like a enemies to lovers trope that’s well-written. But then throw in fight club, a jerk date, ice-cream and pizza - just read it. You’ll understand then. 

The Edge of the Water - Mermaid AU! Series - @floatingpetals I have to admit now, I haven’t read all of this yet. But I also have to say, what I have read was fantastic. Mermaids - and Mermen - they just hit different, you know? 

Pseudo Princess - Medieval AU! Series - by @shreddedparchment​ To date, it’s one of the best fics - nay - stories I’ve ever read. I’d dare to say it’s easily the length of a novel, so if you’re up for the long haul, I’d definitely recommend it. It’s worth the wait - trust me. Op obviously put a hella lot of work into it, and it shows. 

Loki Laufeyson

Loki’s Happy Ending - Series (?) - by @gingerwritess  Listen, I have been and forever will be a Loki girl. Nothing will change that. And every scrap of content Theo produces for Loki I will cradle in my palms and keep warm until they’re ready to go out into the world or whatever - point is, read this. 

Just One Quick Glance - One Shot - by @imagines-trashcan  After watching ‘Endgame’, and squealing at every moment Loki appeared on screen, only to not have him show up in the final battle - this was one of my comfort fics. 

thunderstorms. - One Shot - by @tarynkauai Naturally, Loki’s child would inherit his unease of thunderstorms. And naturally, seeing Loki as a dad makes me happy. 

Stitches - One Shot - by @lokibug​  Loki being nice. I like that. We stan. 

Quentin Beck 

The Curveball - One Shot - by @healingchurch​  Listen, this is on here for a reason. I didn’t really like Mysterio ‘cause of what he did to Peter, but hey, some people are good actors, and some write characters acting very well. 

Stephen Strange 

(Un-Named) - Imagine / One Shot - by @archieimagines​ A cocky bastard and a shy Reader, as far as I’m concerned that a one-way ticket straight to my heart. *wink wonk*.

(Un-Named) - One Shot - by @whirlybirbs​  Honestly, there are multiple fics of hers on this list, and that’s because she’s a damn fine writer, and her stories are just that addictive. This one is no different. I was preparing to read more and then it ended. But all good things, right?

Crash and Burn - One Shot - by @lilyswritings​  The angst, and the angst. I cry, you cry, everyone cries. Unfortunately there is only the one part, but much to my personal joy that means I can interpret the after-ending however I want! 

Frank Castle

(Un-Named) - One Shot - by @alexsunmners​ This is just cute okay? I have no other words except this was plain and simply very, very, very nice to read, and that it makes me feel very soft right here on the inside. 

Peter Parker

Super Smooth Genius - One Shot (?) - by whirlybirbs  Back at it again with the cute, awkward, friendly, neighbourhood, Peter Parker. 

Just Don’t - Soulmate AU! One Shot - by @papel-creativo​ What’d I tell you about soulmate au’s? I can’t resist them. And of course Pete being a caring bf with his hero s/o. So nice. 

Ronan the Accuser 

Make You Proud - One Shot - by @kayleighhalliday2203​ This is justifiable because I was going through a Lee Pace faze and I found it and loved it immediately. 

Ultron

(Un-Named) - One Shot / Series - by @snarky-badger​ This I can also justify having read, because (and if you know me then you know) the robot thing ... Doesn’t bother me as much as it should. And I binged all of it on ao3, so. 

Poe Dameron

(Un-Named) - Masterlist - by propertyofpoeandbucky Okay, I know there’s a lot on this list, and it could take you a while to get through it all, but trust me - it’s worth it. Lani likes Poe, and it shows. He’s written so well. 

Dashing - One Shot / Series ? - by whirlybirbs Birbs does it again. She’s got Punchy!Reader, and if there were a legal way to get all of this Poe thing down into a written book, I’d do it. 

You Can See Me? - Modern / Ghost AU! One Shot - by @tintinwrites​ I just this this one’s really cool. And what Poe does for the reader at the end? So sweet! He would totally do that! 

Across the Hall - Modern / Nurse AU! Series - by @starryeyedstories​  It’s cute, it’s fun, it’s got tension, and a little drama - plus a smidge of angst and Corgi!BB-8. If perfection were ever made into a Modern/Nurse au Poe fic - this would be it. 

Deepest, Lightest Secrets - One Shot - by @writefightandflightclub​  It’s got the humour and overall feel  you’d expect to come from something Star Wars related - honestly I had so much fun reading it, and I’ll happily do it again. 

Levi Ackerman

Names for Him & You - One Shot - by @commanderserwin​ Again, op is one of my main sources for fic’s in this area - so there could be quite a few of them listed here. But this one? Cute as heck. 

Levi’s Secret - Modern AU! One Shot - by @theamberwriter​ This one was damn funny in my opinion. Nothing can ever be hidden from Hange for long. 

You Look So Beautiful In White - Modern AU! One Shot - by @alrightberries​ This fic, it carved out my heart, diced it, shoved it in a blender, then made it into an atomic bomb. I - I was not okay. That amount of angst shouldn’t be allowed. Read it. 

Abeille - Modern / Mafia AU! Series - by @ackermans-freedom-inc​ Honestly, this isn’t finished yet but, honestly, I’m not ready for it to finish. The heartache. The betrayal. The child. I can’t even. 

Lights - Modern AU! One Shot - by commanderserwin This was the first fic I ever read of op’s, and I couldn’t believe what I read so I went back and read it again. I can’t tell you how much I love it, or how I feel about it, so just go read for yourself and you’ll know. 

To Build a Home - Modern AU! Series - by @vennilavee​ If you’re a fan of Levi, you must go read this. It’s so detailed, and just so perfect - whenever a new part comes out I have a quick reboot before going to read it. 

Erwin Smith

One of Us - Modern AU! Miniseries - by commanderserwin I’m not going to lie, this one is here because I requested it, but also because I really liked it, and cried while reading it. So there. 

Reiner Braun

Service to the Crown - Medieval AU! Miniseries - by @present-mel​ It should probably be illegal to write Reiner or Medieval au’s this well, and yet here op is writing both. Like, McScuse me, where do you acquire such talent and can I have some? 

Toshinori Yagi

Flirting with All Might - One Shot - by @lemonlordleah-shinzawa-kitten​ Toshi. The great. The hero. The awkward. He’s a blond boy doing what blond boys do even if he’s a little older he’s still part of the crew.

Stitches - Villain AU / Mini Series - by @itsallmightbitch​  Okay, so I said above that I wouldn’t put warnings on these - but this time I have to. Nothing I’ve read in my whole life emmits such an amount of pure horniness - and I love it. 

Godless - Fantasy AU / One Shot - by @pleasantanathema​  Another ‘All Smite’ fic, yes, I know. But god. They’re so good. This one is another real horny one, so if you can’t tell there is a slight theme running here. And - sksksksks - this is actually from the same ‘general area’ as the Reiner fic listed above (Service to the Crown). There was a event. I read everything. 

Keigo Takami

Preening - One Shot - by @shoutaaizawas​ Literally the softest and cutest damned thing I’ve read for Keigo. No, I’m not just ‘saying’ that, it’s genuine. The feelings I get - or lack thereof due to them turning to mush - it too much for words. Honest. 

Seasonal Special - One Shot - by @keiqos​ I’ll say this now and I’ll say it first - any Hawks fics written by op are *chefs kiss*. They’re amazing. Secondly, rut!Hawks is my weakness - this fic is one of such weaknesses. 

Shouto Aizawa

(Un-Named) - Series - by @theamberwriter​ This is *technically* the second part in the series, but it’s the only part I’ve read and goddamnit, I’m in love. Hubby Aizawa. The disappearing Baby-Zawa. 

I Miss You Texts - SMAU - Kuroo Tetsurou, Bokuto Koutarou, Nishinoya Yuu - by @briswriting​ I miss them too. They ain’t dead. I just feel like I haven’t seen them in so long.  

Little Things - Headcanons - Karasuno - by @haikyuudreaming​ Every single one makes me feel so nostalgic, and I feel so much longing. I love. I loose. I pine. I want. And yet I cannot have. I only dream.  

Cheerleader - Headcanons - Karasuno - by @imagine-101​  I want to be their cheerleader. Now I am able to be. Op, many thanks for the feeding. 

Tsukishima Kei

Cherry Wine - Single Parent AU! Series - by @bakugou-jpg​  I’m gonna head out and say that Tsukki was my first favourite Haikyuu character - then I ‘character developed’ but that only went so far as to give me more favorites. But deadass - read this and you won't regret it. 

Ukai Keishin

(Un-Named) - Ballroom/Latin Dancer AU! Headcanons - by @imagine-that-haikyuu​  I know nothing about dancing. Or ballroom dancing. But I do know I’d love to dance with Ukai. So how’s that for ‘middle ground’? 

[rockislandadultreads]

Spooktacular Cozies: a Halloween Mystery Reading list

Bone to Be Wild by Carolyn Haines

Sarah Booth Delaney is heartbroken: her fiancé Graf Milieu has decided to move to Hollywood permanently, leaving their relationship in shambles. Sarah Booth has a perfect distraction, however, in the form of the Black and Orange Halloween ball her best friends are throwing in New Orleans. Sarah Booth plans to dance the night away to the swinging tunes of her old flame Scott Hampton's blues band. But just as the party gets going, Scott receives a mysterious message that threatens his life and the lives of his bandmates. Sarah Booth knows that a new case is just what she needs to take her mind off her failed relationship with Graf, and she's ready to help Scott investigate. And then the message turns from threat to reality when the bartender from Scott's club is gunned down in a drive-by. Enlisting Sheriff Coleman Peters and the rest of her friends from Zinnia, Mississippi, Sarah Booth is caught in a race against the clock as she tries to stop a killer from striking again.

Vampires, Bones and Treacle Scones by Kaitlyn Dunnett

Halloween is approaching and newlywed Liss MacCrimmon Ruskin is tapped by the Moosetookalook Small Business Association to organize a community fundraiser. Liss throws herself into plans to turn an abandoned mansion into a “haunted house.” There are already all kinds of scary stories about the old Chadwick place, which was most recently owned by Blackie O’Hare, a mob hit man from Boston. There are even rumors of buried treasure on the premises. Unfortunately, work on the haunted house is plagued by a series of minor mishaps and by the disappearance and reappearance of various objects. And then, to Liss’ horror, the fake skeleton she’s acquired for a special effect is replaced with a real body—and it’s someone she knows…

Bloodstains with Bronte by Katherine Bolger Hyde

Classic novels and crime solving intertwine in Katherine Bolger Hyde's charming series. Bloodstains with Bronte is the second in a series that will puzzle and please fans of mystery and masterpieces alike. It’s a dark and stormy autumn on the Oregon coast. Windy Corner, the Victorian mansion Emily Cavanaugh inherited in Arsenic with Austen, is being remodeled into a writers' retreat. Two of the young workers, Jake and Roman, are showing too much of the wrong kind of interest in Katie, Emily's young single-mother housekeeper. Their boss, Jeremiah, is a disturbing presence in a different way with his obsessive, tormented piety. Soon the passions in the house grow as dark and stormy as the weather, and Emily begins to feel as if she’s living in a Brontë novel. Meanwhile, to raise money for the local clinic, Emily and Katie host a murder mystery dinner on Halloween night. All goes well until the supposed corpse turns up actually dead—with Katie standing over him, a bloody knife in her hand. Luke Richards, local sheriff and Emily’s true love, is forced to regard Katie as a suspect, but Emily refuses to accept the situation. Her loyalty to Katie crashes against her duty to Luke and to the truth as she fights to save Katie from a murder charge.

The Spook in the Stacks by Eva Gates

Halloween in North Carolina’s Outer Banks becomes seriously tricky when librarian Lucy Richardson stumbles across something extra unusual in the rare books section: a dead body. Wealthy businessman Jay Ruddle is considering donating his extensive collection of North Carolina historical documents to the Bodie Island Lighthouse Library, but the competition for the collection is fierce. Unfortunately, while the library is hosting a lecture on ghostly legends, Jay becomes one of the dearly departed in the rare books section. Now, it’s up to Lucy Richardson and her fellow librarians to bone up on their detective skills and discover who is responsible for this wicked Halloween homicide. Meanwhile, very strange things are happening at the library—haunted horses are materializing in the marsh, the lights seem to have an eerie life of their own, and the tiny crew of a model ship appears to move around when no one is watching. Is Lucy at her wit’s end? Or can it be that the Bodie Island Lighthouse really is haunted?

[backtothefanfiction]

What a way to make a comeback!!!!!

love on the brain: sugar & vice, vol 2 [mob!tasm!peter x fem!OC]

summary: You didn’t think it was going to be easy, did you? AKA The night Peter and Honey reunited—Four. Months. Later. [mob!peter parker x oc!MJ] 

words: 11.8k (omfg)

NSFW/MINORS DNI - ABANDON ALL CHASTITY, YE WHO ENTER HERE (detailed warnings below)

extended warnings (spoilers): p^rn with plot, detailed smut, really just... filthy and deranged. slightly dubcon parts (although consent is clearly confirmed), no Y/N...ever, arguing, anger, jealousy, physical violence (slapping, scratching, throwing objects), almost hate sex, fem!reader with a vagina and breasts and wears a dress, oral (f! receiving), P in V, rough!dom Peter, sub!reader, possessive!peter, mirrors, titty!worship, shame and slight degradation, use of emojis, f! being restrained, discussion of masturbation, slight breeding kink, non-consensual voyeurism, moderate BDSM kink, “punishment” play (spanking, edging) bratty reader, peter parker being a dunce around women, mob!au, furniture harmed in the making of this

names used: daddy, princess, baby, babygirl

A/N: This is a one-shot standalone story that takes place immediately after the Epilogue of Vol 1. And serves as the official beginning of Vol. 2. If you haven’t read Vol.1, you really should. The main OC is AFAB and goes by the name “Honey.” You’ll need to read Vol. 1 to know why.  I try to be loose with my descriptions for people who prefer a Reader-Insert. But I’m not perfect. In this canon, Honey has a Latina heritage (as do I). Take that as you will. Thanks to @moonyslove78 and @blooming-violets for cheering me on through this very long hiatus. 

This is 18+ AF. And if you think the term ‘AF’ shows how old and out of touch you are, then you’re probably not old enough to read this.

This version of TASM Peter Parker is not canon. The relationships here are not healthy and the characters need therapy. Don’t date a mob boss IRL.

#1 - Love on the Brain

>>> heya boss. how’s your trip? 😜

Peter arched a brow as he peeked down at the text message.

>>> ⋯ >>> your trip to pound town? 🍆🍑 

He rolled his eyes, swallowing back an irritated snort.

Real mature, Felicia. 

He almost tapped out a haughty reply but stopped. Corners of his mouth turned down, he found himself unable to respond.

“So many choices. I just don’t know what I want.”

An understatement.

The girl of his dreams sat across from him in the quaint East Harlem Cuban restaurant. They were crammed together at a bistro table near the kitchen. The enormous menu took up the entire surface, and she had spent the last 25 minutes reading the items aloud. 

It was nearly 11 p.m., and they had yet to pick an appetizer. 

The woman he’d called ‘his Honey’ sweetly sighed with a shrug. “Now that we’re here, I just can’t make up my mind.” 

Her voice had a singsong tune to it, purposefully careless. Blissfully ignorant of the fact that Peter was starving.

“Maybe I’m just not feeling Cuban food tonight,” she shrugged, nonchalant.

Peter swallowed hard. Tried to rid his expression of any hint of impatience or irritation. 

“Oh,” he remarked delicately, thinking of all the different dinner reservations he’d made for tonight. It didn’t matter what magazine talked it up, didn’t matter how many “tire awards” it had won. 

Honey was unimpressed. 

“M’surprised,” he said, as emotionlessly as possible. “Thought you had your heart set on this place.”

The place was one of those hole-in-the-wall joints that had less than 10 tables, which made takeout the most popular choice. 

On this night however—a Tuesday— the restaurant was nearly empty, except for the overdressed couple and the loathsome kitchen staff, who didn’t expect to be subject to “este cabrón” and his picky girlfriend strolling in 30 minutes before closing. 

While Peter could feel the heat of their ire over the oven, Honey avoided it. She explained to the manager that Peter was “un ricacho que tiene demasiado dinero.” And with that, they were seated.

When Peter approached her earlier that afternoon in the park, he’d expected a much worse welcome. He nearly died of a panic attack when he spotted her on the park bench. It had been four long months since he’d attempted to communicate with her, and he half-expected her to throw her iced coffee in his face. 

Actually, he had no idea what to expect from her. Terrifyingly.

Peter had lamented to Felicia— “There’s no card that says, ‘Sorry, I ghosted you for a few months while attempting to shake the heat off my back.’ Which flowers say, ‘I apologize that the last conversation we had, I called you a whore in front of a room full of cops’?”

The true challenge came when Peter actually looked into her eyes. He didn’t expect that one look would render him useless. 

She was even more beautiful than he remembered. Ethereal. Glowing. The human equivalent of a bouquet of sunflowers, with happy round cheeks and her hair tied back in a ponytail. She was the color of rainbows, and summer, and sunshine. She was the cherries of her red lip stain and the golden rays of her yellow linen sundress.

God, that dress. 

Peter planned for everything—but not that dress. 

His carefully rehearsed speech went out the window when he saw her in that dress: a cotton ruched-waist, tea-length gown in a yellow gingham pattern. It featured a sweetheart neckline that cradled her breasts perfectly between the halter tie-back straps. 

He had no idea where that dress came from, but it was the most perfect piece of fabric ever to grace a woman’s body. He would buy her twelve more of them, no matter the cost. He’d buy every last one.

He’d give her the sun, the ocean, Hawai’i, and all the stars in the sky— if only she’d forgive him. He was ready to throw himself on a bed of hot coals as long as it meant that she would take him back. If she would come back home.

Truthfully, he needed her to come home.

Not to get ahead of himself, he started by taking her to dinner. 

That was Felicia’s advice—women love dinner. solves everything. the fancier, the better, with lots of red meat—u know how they say food is the way to a man’s heart? dinner is the way to the ovaries. works every time.

Actually, Felicia gave Peter lots of advice. For once, he was more than grateful to accept it. 

>>> make her feel like you can’t take your eyes off her. but don’t stare. like a creeper  >>> be a gentleman, but not a pushover. you wanna be the good guy. soft YA novel boyfriend type

Followed quickly by—

>>> but not too soft! don’t be a little bitch. if she plays hard to get, you play offense.  >>> and defense.

Peter had no idea what she was talking about. But he knew when it was wise to trust the advice of more intelligent creatures than men.

Five restaurants later...

“I thought going to dinner was your idea?” Honey asked with pursed lips.

“It was; it was my idea,” he nervously replied. “Six hours ago—it was my idea.”

She narrowed her eyes to slits. “Hmm. Six hours. Long time to wait.” Her eyes fell down to the menu again. Her lack-of-sympathy said everything.

Peter’s pocket buzzed again, and he glanced down at the incoming text message from Felicia.

>>> ...???? 

He rolled his eyes. Tapped out a response.

<<< Not great.

“Am I interrupting something?” Honey asked with a clipped tone.

Peter jumped, pocketing his phone immediately. “No, just... just something... silly,” he muttered. “How ‘bout we get a few plates in, yeah? I’m gonna just order some stuff—”

“Like what?” she questioned skeptically.

“I don’t know,” Peter shrugged, his stomach twisting. “One of everything.”

“That’s wasteful,” Honey said, judgment sharpening her gaze. “Food waste is bad enough as it is in this city.”

“Well, at this point,” he snapped with an exasperated sigh, “I might be able to eat two of everything.” The words floated away from him, and he bit the inside of his cheek, wishing they would come back. Hesitantly, he made eye contact with Honey.

She peered at him disgustedly from over the top of her menu. She scoffed, crossing one leg over the other, and dropped the leather-bound book closed. 

“Don’t let me slow you down,” Honey said icily. “I’m not that hungry anyway.”

Peter’s eyes nearly bulged out of his skull. His pocket buzzed again. 

>>> the fuck? what do you mean?  >>> she was in love with you b4... how hard can it be to take her on a date?  >>> christ. did you fuck this up, parker?

He shoved the phone back in his jacket, nearly punching through the silk fabric. 

“If I’m wasting your time, tell me,” Honey sharply retorted. She crossed her arms even tighter across her chest. He had to force himself to look away from the way it plumped her breasts together. “I’d hate to keep you from something important.”

Felicia was right. He was fucking this up. Before he could open his mouth—

“Excuse me, señorita,” a masculine, smoky voice crooned at them. 

Peter and Honey glanced up to see a chiseled man in his 30s approach the table with a hurricane glass of ice. He was a specimen of Latin American art—a bronzed statue, with carved muscles that bulged out of his floral shirt. Deep brown eyes—no, hazel eyes— fixed on Honey as he reached across the table with rolled-back sleeves. The corded muscles in his arm, toned by long hours of hard labor, flexed gracefully as he gently set a cocktail in front of her. 

A frosted, colorless liquid speckled with crushed mint leaves filled the glass. Honey blinked with delighted surprise.

“Our compliments,” the young, disgustingly attractive waiter explained with a sultry smile and a thick accent. “In case you found yourself thirsty while browsing the menu.” 

A blush colored her skin as she glanced up at their handsome waiter. The sparkle in her smile was as blinding as ever, and she graciously looked back between the glass and the server.  The waiter— no way in hell this fuckin’ guy is a waiter— beamed back at her, enamored. 

“Oh, wow!” she gasped, reaching for the glass with dainty fingers. “Is this a mojito? That’s my favorite! How did you know?”

The waiter graciously chuckled. “Lucky guess. You look like a woman of refined taste.”

Peter felt his blood pressure rising.

Honey didn’t even look at her date, as if he was suddenly invisible. “Thank you,” she grinned, self-satisfied. “I mean, I do know my way around a Bacardi bottle.” The waiter chuckled, maybe too hard, at her silly joke.

“We want you to enjoy your evening with us,” the waiter added politely, sparing Peter a glance but keeping all his attention on Honey. “We are honored to have you as our guest.” 

The waiter spoke gentlemanly as he splayed his long fingers across his chest. “Please, take as much time as you need. No need to feel rushed. It is my pleasure to serve you.” 

Peter could feel a twitch behind his eye. Could have been the fire shooting out of his eyes. Fuck this prick, probably another Broadway reject or somethin’, couldn’t buy himself a decent shirt—His mind churned along with his anger.

Oblivious, Honey beamed up at him with a golden smile. “Thank you so much for saying that,” she replied, endearingly sweet. “You are too kind, um... I’m sorry, what was your name again?” 

“Pedro.”

Honey’s brows shot to her hairline. “Pedro?” she repeated, absolutely delighted. She glanced over at Peter. “Isn’t that something?”

The mob boss’ lip curled mirthlessly. “Oh, it’s somethin,’ alright.” 

Peter continued to burn his stare—fuck his stupid accent— into the side of the aloof waiter’s head. He wondered if Pedro’s handsome, chiseled jawline was sharp enough to cut through a noose.

Buzz..

>>> you’re keepin’ your cool, right?  >>> remember what i said.  >>> anything she wants. no questions asked! >>> don’t get all crazy possessive either

The joyful sound of her laughter ripped his attention away from his phone and back towards his charmed date. 

“Pedro,” she sweetly preened. “Can you give us a recommendation?” She briefly flashed her eyes at Peter before looking back at her new friend. “My date’s clearly distracted. He has no idea what I like.” 

Oh? Peter raised a brow at that. And lost his appetite.

Peter followed Honey down the hallway to his hotel suite while storm clouds swirled in his gut. Lighting crackled with each footfall. Tension clogged the atmosphere, and they shuffled in a silent fog to the door.

Despite Felicia’s advice about controlling his inner beasts, Peter’s hackles were raised, and his stomach growled. Now, he was hungry for more than just food. And simultaneously, he’d never felt so powerless. 

Peter noted how tightly she wrapped her arms around herself. Her face suggested she was deep in thought. He wondered if she was just as tightly wound as he was. Wondered if she could break his heart with just a look.

He was flailing. Pathetic.

Peter’s fist clenched his keycard tight. He had to be careful not to snap the card in half between his fingers. Was it from excitement or terror? Desire or rage? 

He had to focus, to make this work. He had nothing if he didn’t have her. 

Rigidly, Peter pushed the door open and stood to the side of the frame to let her enter. 

She paused briefly, lips tight, as she gazed into the rotunda entryway of the lavish suite. They hadn’t spoken in the car, and he hadn’t had the chance to explain the location. 

Letting out a steady breath, she strode through the threshold and stopped. Her body blocked the doorway. She turned to look up at Peter, defiant eyes flashing.

“This is as far as you go.” 

Peter blinked, looking at her in confusion.

Her tone was curt. Icy. He recognized that sound. It was the tone of voice she used when she wanted to draw blood, and it never failed to inflict pain. Her voice. Her eyes. Even her tongue was razor-sharp.

Peter curled a brow upwards. “Sorry?” 

Honey narrowed her eyes. “Not yet, you’re not.” 

He took a step back, blinking owlishly. 

“What did you think was going to happen tonight, Peter?” The ire of Honey’s question sliced through him. “Did you think you were gonna shave your face, take me to a fancy dinner, and then I’d just... open my legs for you?”

A literal ellipsis formed in his mind. 

Peter swallowed hard. “Uhhh—?”

���‘I’ll wait for forever, Honey,’ she parroted his earlier admission mockingly. “Is that all you have to say to me? You left me! For four months!”

Peter nodded his head, not sure exactly why or when he began. “I know, I know...”

“You know!?”

The walls of etiquette and politeness between them began to crack.

“How many times I gotta tell ya? I was tryin’ to protect ya, Honey—”

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

It stung like a snake bite. Rage filled her eyes, disdain bubbling out of her mouth. She had only just begun. 

“You buy me all this expensive bullshit!” she scolded. “And you dress up in your ridiculous designer suits and parade me to all these fucking pretentious places! Like I’m some kind of accessory! Like you own the whole fucking city and everyone in it!”

He replied with a string of noises. Or, at least, he thought so.

“Big bad mob boss—all that power—and yet, you couldn’t just talk to me? You had me wait around for you like a stray dog! You can just come and go as you please, but you—you expect me to follow you around on a leash?”

“Honey, please. Let me explain—”

“I don’t want to hear it, Peter!” her voice echoed through the rotunda and down the hall of the hotel. “I don’t want to hear a single one of your lame excuses! I don’t want a fancy dinner, or a new Porsche, or a mansion, or whatever else makes your dick hard!”

Peter blinked rapidly, stunned. His body responded as if she had just kicked him in the place she referenced, “Jus’lemme—”

“And I sure as hell don’t want another apology!” she asserted definitively. “I don’t want you anywhere near me!” 

Peter’s jaw hung open, tongue dead in his mouth. The woman who barely stood at his collarbone stared down at him, making him feel inches tall. 

“Now, I’m going to bed. Exactly as I have been for the last four months.” Her voice thundered, “Alone!”

With that, the door slammed in his face, rattling inches from his nose. The echo reverberated through the empty hallway and inside his chest, emphasizing the deep crack that formed.

Peter let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. The shock subsided slowly, and his heart sank. The ache soon sizzled into a burn, boiling his blood. At the same time, the sting of her rejection was raw. Unbearable.

Unbelievable.

Absolutely unacceptable. 

He should break down the fucking door. Throw her over his shoulder and tie her up. Gag her—Anything to get her to listen.

Haplessly, Peter’s eyes fell on his expensive shoes—his Valentinos. Or maybe these were the Tom Ford’s? He had no clue. Just more bullshit.

Fuck—He was going to cry. Maybe he should let himself just do it. Lean into it. Drop to his knees and beg for forgiveness. Shoulders slumped, he squeezed his eyes closed. 

He was a little bitch.

Peter pictured a door closing on a rocket or an airplane. Whatever it was, it was leaving him behind. He was falling back to Earth, having placed too much faith in miracles. This was his punishment for flying that close to the sun—

The door swung open. 

Two hands grabbed Peter’s jacket, pulling him forward off his heels. It was a surprisingly fluid motion; his heartbreak had reduced the mass of his bones to nothing. 

Honey’s nails practically pierced his lapels. She yanked him through the doorway into the suite, slamming the door behind him, and slamming him into the door right after.

Before Peter could open his mouth to speak, she was on him like a viper.

A sharp, biting kiss swallowed him whole, stealing the oxygen from his lungs. The heat was as intense as he had remembered. This time, they didn’t melt into one another. Honey was like a wildfire, her touch scalding him. 

His skin flushed from the sudden unbearable heat. Before he could react, her lithe fingers started tugging the edges of his jacket. Clumsily, she tried pushing it back over his broad shoulders. As soon as he knew of her intent, he eagerly obliged, shrugging the garment off and to the floor. 

Her hands went to his throat, ebony-painted nails leaving trails on his skin. Buttons popped as she yanked on his clothes. Her goal could have been to draw blood with her kiss.

Every time her teeth tore at his lips, he responded with a groan into her mouth.

Clumsy, he fumbled with his fingers—reaching up to grip her by the hair. Finally, he wrenched her head back, detaching her bite from his face.

Immediately, he was met with an open-palmed slap on the cheek.

Sharp gasps cut through them, and they jumped backward a few feet. Tension and shock reverberated in the chasm they created. Like the barometric pressure plunging before a storm, an eerie calm settled over them. 

Honey blinked at him, jaw agape and her palm throbbing. 

Peter glared at her in silence. He looked a mess—hair unkempt, the top buttons of his shirt torn open to reveal jagged crimson scratch marks across his milky skin.

His heartbeat steadily increased as he gently dabbed his fingertips at the ache in his jaw. The exquisite lines of his face were stained pastel pink, flushed by arousal or anger. His eyes were black as night, so it could have been either one.

She looked just as wrecked. Dress askew, her hairstyle half-unraveled. Goosebumps dotted her skin. She looked shocked at the violence she was capable of, surprised and possibly guilty at her own strength. As the seconds passed, the feelings faded.

Peter watched her, pupils dilating, blood pressure rising. The shadow of a smile curved his mouth. His features darkened into something primal. Something familiar.

There’s my girl.

Slowly, he lowered his hand, studying her threatening look until his own expression began to match.

Physically, his senses were haywire. Danger, excitement, and a sick sort of pleasure rattled his bones and labored his breathing. The hairs on his skin stood on end. Alarms blared in his head. The sound of his own blood was almost deafening to him, thumping like a kick drum. 

Peter could hear her heart, too. Fast. Like a rabbit. He was a wolf in pursuit. 

Maybe the pain of her slap triggered him, a preemptive action against further attack.

She got one in, Peter mused mockingly. He knew she was no match. Not as Peter’s night vision sharpened. Not while he could taste the salt from her perspiration on his tongue. Most intoxicating of all, Peter could smell her desire. Like a rose bursting open.

In another blink, they switched positions. Peter snatched her by her shoulders and slammed her back into the wall, pinning her there. She went feral—hissing and raging at her entrapment.

Not a rabbit. A honey badger, then.

“Get off of me!” Honey spat.

“Shut up,” he ordered. Quiet and fierce.

Fingers gripping her forearms tight, he attacked her lips, teeth colliding. The ferocity stunned her. For a moment, it seemed like she finally submitted to him before she wriggled her mouth free.

“Mmffucker—Let me go!”

His body might as well have been a brick wall. His face was stonelike, eyes just as cold. 

“No.” 

Honey’s brow scrunched up like a petulant child throwing a tantrum. “I’ll scream!” she countered.

Peter smirked, the hickory in his eyes igniting. “Baby. You have no idea.”

Peter’s guarantee sent a shiver down Honey’s spine. He saw the gears turning in her mind as she carefully considered pushing him further. 

He hoped she would. 

His fingers tightened around her forearms. He crucified her under his gaze. And yet, despite the danger anyone else would have felt... A glimmer of curiosity flickered in her eyes.

It set his mind reeling. A tiny sign of weakness to temptation made Peter’s stomach trapeze. He zeroed in on it, licking his chops. 

Not to make it easy, Honey brought her knee up, attempting to make contact with his groin. There was nearly a foot of difference between their heights, and she paid it no mind.

Brave girl. 

Peter admired her tenacity. She had balls. Smart, too, he pleasantly recognized. Honey went for the weak spot first. Good call. 

Pointless, though. 

Nothing below Peter’s belt was weak when she was around.

Unfairly, Peter picked up on her attack before her leg was even bent. He snatched her above the knee, lifting her toes off the ground and prying her thighs open. 

He pictured the bruises on her skin that his fingertips would leave behind. Just the thought made him rock hard. 

A year ago, Peter would have been ashamed. He would have shied away from her, for fear of repulsing her, and took out his frustration by himself in the shower. 

Grinding his teeth at those memories, he pressed Honey’s hips into his waist, forcing her legs around him, and—Fuck—her heat.

Peter’s brain nearly short-circuited. She was like a bonfire against his belly. His cock pushed against his trousers, straining for her warmth. He secured her hips to his with a tight grip, which only pissed her off more. She thrashed, enraged. 

She really needed to stop doing that. It only made the burn worse. 

A few months ago, Peter would have been ashamed of the rush he felt from manhandling her. Ashamed of how his cock ached and twitched at her fruitless tantrums.

“Fucking asshole!” Honey sneered.

“Yeah?” he said with a bitter laugh. “You're a spoiled little brat!”

“Fuck you!”

“See what I mean?” Peter scoffed, holding her tighter. He breathed hotly into the shell of her ear. “Not even a ‘please.’” 

His pride was short-lived. Inexplicably, Honey arched her neck and buried her teeth into his shoulder. He roared—“Fuck! What the fuck!!??” —surprised she didn’t bite through the silk of his collared shirt.

Apparently, he wasn’t the only beast in the room.

They tumbled down ungracefully. Peter landed hard on his back, with Honey crashing on top of him. She collapsed on his lungs, knocking the wind from his chest. Sputtering, he reached out to grab her, his fingertips barely missing the hem of her dress. The small woman scrambled to her hands and knees, then to her feet. 

Honey dashed into the suite while Peter’s voice echoed—“Goddamnitareyacrazy!?”—after her. 

Padding on her toes, she ran into a darkened living room with vaulted ceilings that might have been large enough to fit her entire apartment. Outside glass walls, the Midtown skyline surrounded her. The Metlife and Empire State Buildings glittered proudly in a breathtaking view.

The room was situated in the corner of the building. Velvet curtains framed the floor-to-ceiling windows, providing an unobstructed view of the city. The Dark Academia-Meets-Glam aesthetic seating area featured a sleek, modern leather sectional and mod velvet chaise lounge chat set. 

Without time to admire any of it, she scrambled to the first piece of furniture she could reach. She grabbed the first thing her fingers could find—a designer fruit bowl centerpiece made of polished stainless steel and brass pomegranates. 

It was exquisite and expensive. 

Honey spun on her heel and flung the heavy metal at Peter.

He dipped deftly, his spine bowing back, narrowly missing the bowl as it whipped past him. The object barreled through a crystal chandelier, glass shattering like raindrops as they came down.

“Hey—!” he scowled, facing her with an indignant glare.

A moment later, he quickly shielded his face from another flying object: an asymmetrical crystal-and-Riverstone candelabra that crumbled against his forearm. It might as well have been a brick, with ceramic shards tumbling off of his shoulder. 

Peter bristled in aggravation, brushing the pieces off. Now, she was really pissing him off.

He glanced up just in time to see a glass vase containing two dozen roses—meant to be her gift—hurtling towards his head. Reflexively, he snatched it from the air with one hand, water and all. He palmed the crystal vase like catching a baseball. Didn’t spill a drop. 

His quick reflexes stunned the both of them. Peter’s jaw went slack—partially at his ability to save the flowers, but mostly with indignation that Honey had somehow destroyed $1,000 worth of the hotel’s tchotchkes in a few seconds. 

“Enough!” Peter barked, carefully setting the vase down. Ignoring him, the woman darted toward another side table, already reaching for another expensive object to throw at him. 

Suddenly, Honey’s ankle was caught in a sticky grip. Both legs pulled out from beneath her. She flattened immediately with an ooof—her belly dropping to the wool carpet. 

Dazed, she glanced back at her legs with a crease in her brow. With a jolt, she was pulled along by a stringy, spongy substance on her ankle. It felt the way canned compressed air feels when shooting skin at close range. 

Her nails dug into the carpet fibers as she was dragged back. “Agghhh! What the—Getitoff!” 

As soon as the pulling stopped, Honey was on her back again, gazing up at the sharp lines of Peter’s cold gaze. He towered over her, even on his knees, as he mounted her hips. Protesting, she pelted him tirelessly with her fists.

The smell of sweat loomed in the air as he finally restrained her. He caged her in, pinning her wrists to the floor. Nerves buzzing and tempers flaring, she continued to writhe and wrestle with him to no avail. Peter quickly overpowered the more petite woman, fomenting her anger. 

“You’re hurting me!” she sneered breathlessly, teeth gritted. 

Peter was unimpressed. “Liar.”

“M’not lying—!”

He glared back, barely breaking a sweat. “You’re so full of shit—!”

“Fuck you! What do you know—?”

“I know you, Honey!” he charged, silencing her. 

She went still, subdued beneath his dark gaze. Peter loomed over her like a stormcloud. “I know the games you like to play,” he said—both teasing and sinister, toying with his prey. He lowered his lips until they breathed the same air. 

Honey’s focus was split between Peter’s intense stare and glistening, kiss-ravaged mouth. She tried not to notice the sensation of her nipples brushing against the fabric with each labored breath. He could easily reach down and touch her. Tried not to focus on how solid his chest felt against hers, like carved marble. Tried not to focus on the dark chocolate of his eyes melting in the heat of their gaze. 

Just as intensely, Peter watched her watch him—zeroing in on the idle way her tongue darted to wet her lips. The tiny action shot electricity down his spine, straight to his groin. 

Honey felt that, too. A tiny gasp escaped her, her lashes fluttering. The fight suddenly left her arms as she noticed the heavy bulge against her hip. 

He was hot. Not just figuratively. Feverishly hot. He was so hard, too—and just for her. The lewd image of him splitting her open on his cock made her insides clench. 

Peter eyed her dangerously, his voice a dark abyss. “Think you can hide it from me, eh?” The teasing smile on his lips bordered on a snarl. “Gonna sit here an’tell me... that if I were to reach down between your legs right now...” Her heart hammered in her chest, hanging on every word. In her mind, she was begging him to follow through with the threat. “...Those panties won’t be soaked?” 

Honey failed to swallow back a little mewl as he leaned down closer.

“Ya think I can’t feel ya, huh?” he mumbled, lips ghosting the curve of her throat. “Think I can’t smell how wet you are right now?” Another wanton exhale left her belly as she leaned into the heat of his breath on her skin. “Y’know I can already taste you on my tongue, babygirl.”

Honey’s mouth and legs seemed to part further at his vulgar words. She shivered at the sensation of his slick tongue traversing her pulse point.

“You’re... an asshole...” she murmured breathlessly. She sounded half-asleep.

Peter hissed, “And you’re a needy little slut, aren't’cha?” 

The sudden ferocity made her eyes unintentionally roll back. A second later, Peter’s fingers collared her, choking off the small mewl in her throat. He turned her by the chin, wrenching her attention to him. 

“Hey—Eyes on me,” he commanded.

Mesmerized, Honey blinked up at him like a fawn.

“How ‘bout that little stunt you pulled with the waiter?” he prodded. There was an icy edge on the last word. Her throat bobbed while she kept her face neutral. The bright amber of his glare penetrated her. Peter continued accusatorily, “Those flirty little giggles while he gave ya fuck-me eyes? Y’think I didn’t see that?”

Honey sniffed, stiffening her upper lip. This was a power move; she knew better than to back down. “Look who's jealous,” she scoffed. 

With a jolt, she again attempted to wrench her wrists free. He simply held on tighter, closing his talons as she twisted like a snake.

“Jealous?” Peter repeated calmly, narrowing his eyes into slits. “Me? Nah.” His hands suddenly seized her hips as he forcibly jerked her up off the floor. A slew of profanities spilled from her mouth, bucking against him as he carried her.

In a few strides, he was at the edge of a dining table. With little regard for his barbarity, he plopped Honey on the surface, shoving her flat on her back. Peter arched over her as if to dominate her, spine bowing until he filled her periphery with his fierce gaze. 

Honey’s eyes sparkled, cheeks colored from the rush. “Threatened, then!”

Peter’s face softened inexplicably. Blinked at her for a moment, head tilting. Then, he landed an open-palmed smack against her ass. 

It was a surprisingly heavy blow, as close as he’d ever come to intentionally inflicting pain on her. Honey yelped, hissing from the sting on her upper thigh. Right after the strike, Peter’s fingers began kneading her flesh, soothing the welt that was bound to form.

“See, if I were a jealous man,” he noted with an evil sneer, “I woulda gouged his eyes out with a salad fork.” 

Peter swallowed up her gasp with a forceful kiss. A few moments later, he broke away.

“If I felt threatened?” he added breathlessly, “I woulda bent you over the table and fucked you dumb. Let everyone in the Five Boroughs hear you beg for my cock.”

Once the filth rolled off his tongue, Peter went back to using it to lash against hers. Honey was overwhelmed by the soft, wet muscle invading her mouth. Not only that, the violent edge to his words felt like standing in a river and grabbing a livewire. A shiver racked through her body, a current of pent-up anger and desire sending blood rushing to her core.

As if on cue, Peter’s fingertips made contact with the lace fabric between her thighs. She tremored at his touch, heart skipping. He toyed with the soft, stretchy material. Snapped it lazily against her flesh.

His voice was hypnotizing. “I woulda shoved these dirty panties down his throat just to never hear his stupid fuckin’ accent again.”

Honey felt drunk off of the vitriol he poured into her ear. It was violent and possessive... and it shouldn’t have made her so horny, and yet—

Honey trembled with anticipation, panting like a bitch in heat. “I-I... can’t... ugh, fu—” 

The pads of his fingers ran firmly along her seam. She let out an embarrassing whine. Peter's prediction was spot-on. A shameful amount of wetness coated the inside of her thighs. He played with the soaked fabric and smeared her mess across her skin with a smug smirk.  

“Think I don’t know what you like?” he muttered darkly, echoing her earlier jab. 

RIP!

The lace bunched at her waist. Honey’s wet skin felt particularly chilled being exposed to the air. She quivered with anticipation. Her head was spinning, pussy throbbing. She felt worshiped and simultaneously defiled. 

Peter pressed his forehead into hers, skin-to-skin. She stared into the black of his eyes in suspended silence, like the pornographic thoughts in his head were being projected into her mind.

Her own pupils were blown black. “Fuckin’ hate you so much—”

“I don’t care.”

“—re’such an asshole—”

“I don’t care,” he repeated more firmly. Then, “You belong with me.”

“You left me!” she fired back.

The sharpness of her tone sobered him a little. He blinked and sighed. “I couldn’t leave you. I didn’t leave you.”

She attempted to sit up, trying to lift her shoulders unsuccessfully. She writhed with spite, “Fuckin’ selfish prick, I outta cut off—”

“What was my drink order?”

He blurted the last sentence out with a mind-blowing level of calm. At once, their bodies went still. Still pinned to the table with a hummingbird beneath her breast, Honey stared up at him in confusion. 

Her brows pinched together. “Huh—?”

“My drink order,” Peter repeated, his expression void of the aggression he had the previous moment. 

It was like a mask had fallen away, and the man on top of her transformed into a different person. Maliciousness evaporated, replaced by eagerness. Desperation. 

Peter stared at her, intently searching her gaze. “At the shop,” he whispered, eyes soft. “What you used to make for me every time I came t’see you..?” The words fell away as he stared at her expectantly. 

She arched a brow. 

It had been black coffee, bitter and dark. Just like Peter’s entire world. How it had always been. Until—

“You said I should try something new,” he added, with urgency like reminding her of a forgotten dream. “So you made something for me—something... special.”

Peter’s heart swelled through his eyes at the last word. Honey stared up at him, perplexed. He was looking for the answer on the tip of her tongue:

Honey and Lavender. 

Confusion ceded to aggravation. A line formed between Honey’s brows.

“You remember, right?” he asked, hopeful.

She did. He knew she did. He could see it at the corners of her eyes, pooling behind her eyelids. Sobering memories flooded her, cooling the heat between them. A different sort of ache settled in.

Reluctantly, she nodded.

He took a breath, relieved but still anxious. “Say those words,” he said, “if you really want me to stop.”

Her damp lashes fluttered as Honey blinked up at him in surprise. Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat, he swallowed dryly. His stomach lurched at the thought of being sent away like this. 

Still, it was a risk he had to take. 

“I can let go, walk away,” he offered tenderly. “Right now. No questions asked.” Each word felt like sticking needles through his tongue. He gave her an out, needing confirmation that her reciprocated lust wasn’t imagined. 

“Say the words,” Peter whispered in lament, “and I’ll leave you alone.”

That word settled like a boulder crushing his chest.

Despite Peter’s heart telling him her rejection would be unbearable, the thought of truly harming her was more so. 

Honey studied him with thoughtful eyes, contemplative and curious. He had won. He subdued her. Restrained her. She remembered when he threw a piano like a toddler throwing a toy truck. 

She could do little to stop him if he wanted to force her. And yet—

There he is. 

This was the man she remembered. The one that was ready to die for her. To die by her hand, if that’s what she wanted. 

“Two words,” Peter sighed, his nose brushing against hers. It was a sweetly affectionate gesture. “Say the words, and this can end right n—”

Honey captured his lips, stealing his breath like it was her only source of oxygen. Static filled Peter’s ears, his body tensing and relaxing simultaneously. He was soaring and plummeting. Rising and falling. 

Her tongue slipped past his lips, dragging along the pad of his mouth. Soon enough, the sweetness melted off in their flames. 

Honey pulled her mouth away, barely able to get out her plea. “Touch me, Peter. Make me feel it.”

And she dove right back in. This time, Peter plunged with her, deep beneath the waves of lust. He sank into her current, dragging her with the tide of desire.

Peter’s hands were frantic travelers. Flitting from her wrists to her shoulders. To gently cup her face. To smooth over the mounds of her breasts. To dig his fingers into the linen fabric of the sweetheart neckline.

“Love this dress,” he idly mumbled between kisses, abusing the neckline. “Mmm—where’d ya say ya got it?”

“Oh…uhm—?”

The question caught her off guard. She blushed, brain foggy with lust. Her instinct was to say something like ‘thank you,’ but her tongue fumbled the words. “Uh... it was, I think, Old Navy—?”

A ripping sound shocked her. She squeaked as a flurry of cotton fibers burst from the top of the dress. 

Peter yanked the linen bodice apart like tissue paper, his tongue chasing away any protest from her lips. Gooseflesh broke out as her skin was exposed to the air. Driven by lust, he shoved the ruined material down to her waist. 

“Fuck, Peter...” she gasped, scandalized.

“Sorry,” he muttered, not sorry.

It was his turn to be greedy. Peter dug his hands beneath the cups of her bra, toying with the peaks of her breasts. 

With a snap, the bra was torn in half. The strength in Peter’s long fingers stunned her. Puzzling her as much as it turned her on.

He laved at her left breast with his tongue, drawing an obscene moan from her. His hand pinched sadistically at her right nipple. The delectable sting traveled from her chest to her cunt. She arched—”ughhh, god”—her spine bowing beautifully.

He held the cleft of her left breast delicately in his hand while lapping at the ridges of her peaked flesh. Warm tongue caressed the tip, drawing shapes and discovering pathways to her pleasure. Every little flick inspired something new. She cooed and twitched beneath him. He was desperate to memorize her taste. 

Languidly, he massaged each of her tits inside his mouth, his cock aching as he imagined licking her pussy with the same fervor. It was almost unbearable. A strangled moan vibrated through his chest at the picture in his mind. 

Her reaction to the sound came out as an agonized mewl. 

Oh.

He needed more of that sound.

Peter felt her push on his shoulders. Trying to wriggle away from his mouth. 

This time, he had no tolerance for misbehavior. He grabbed both wrists and forced them above her head. Honey yanked back, stunned at being glued down to the table surface by his palms. 

The peach of his pouty lips curved upward as his eyes took a turn ravishing her. She was a sight of wicked debauchery. Her hair was a mess, and her nearly-naked body lay across the table like a feast. Her thighs locked around his hips.

He used one hand to rub circles into the delicate skin of her restrained forearms. The other hand mischievously dipped lower and lower, sliding through her wet heat. Calloused, dexterous fingers spread her lips open, playing in her slick and prodding her tight hole. 

Honey was finished. Ruined. Past the point of no return. Unconditionally surrendered. Helpless and eager to subjugate herself to her conqueror. Filthy sounds filled the room, punctuated by weak cries from his new loyal subject.

“So pretty,” he sighed breathlessly as he coated his fingers in her cream. “All this for me, princess?” He cooed at her, edging on cruel.

A broken gasp fell from her lips, her chest pulsing involuntarily. 

“Aww, what’s the matter? Does this little pretty pussy ache, baby?”

A vortex formed deep in her belly, dragging her in. He licked his dry lips, salivating at the image.

“I know it hurts, baby, I know. I know,” he teased. “It’s been hard playin’ all by yourself, huh?” The sunniness of his voice was eclipsed. “All alone. Screamin’ out my name into your pillow. Fingers buried deep in your wet cunt.”

Honey’s eyes snapped open. Before she could respond, the breadth of his middle fingertip penetrated her. She gasped as his finger speared her open. All the while, he wore a devil’s smile.

“Ain’t that right? Only for me.” Entranced, he watched her every twitch and shudder. “This pussy belongs to me, doesn’t it?”

It was a question feigning the need for her confirmation. She couldn't answer. Couldn't breathe. 

No, that can’t be right—had he been watching her masturbate in her apartment? Was he watching her the entire time he was gone? 

The possibility enraged her. Ten orgasms from the King of New York’s Underworld couldn’t even quell that fire.

Peter smiled wickedly, playing with her pussy. Taking his time toying with her flesh. He was a tyrant-king, dominating her pleasure. With a calloused hand, he held onto her cunt like it belonged there.

But she was his wild colt. Difficult to break.

“Oh-n—ohh god,” she gasped. Unbeknownst to him, an evil plot bloomed in her brain. Her lips curled into a smile.

“Fuck—gah—ohhhhh…”

He licked up each broken syllable.

“Yes! Oh, god, yes! Oh—” 

Sweat beaded on her chest, sin oozing through her pores.

“...Pedro.”

Halt.

Brakes squealing. Full stop. Not only in the physical world between them but also in Peter’s living fantasy.

Mischievously, Honey’s grin widened. 

She got him, alright. 

Flawless victory.

Dark eyes flashing, Peter withdrew his fingers from her. “Fuckin’ brat…”

In one fluid motion, Peter flipped her over to her belly, stunning her. He followed with another forceful slap to her ass cheek. This one was more punishing than the last, drawing a puppy-like yelp. His voice was ice. Eyes black. 

Now, she was in trouble.

“Think that’s funny?” he said through gritted teeth.

Peter manipulated her limbs like a rag doll. He maneuvered her forward until her cheekbone pressed against the table. She panicked for a moment at being in such a compromising position. 

The chill of the air across her wet pussy made her shiver. At the same time, she clenched at his roughness.

Peter kneaded her sides, pressing fingerprint bruises on her waist. He yanked her hips towards him until her knees were on the table’s edge. Honey’s face burned, stricken with modesty and flustered by how he hoisted her ass in the air. 

Her hips were propped up like a rack of lamb, and he licked his lips at the sight. It was too vulnerable, being bared to him like this. Obscene, on display, inches from his face. 

For a half second, she considered using the safe words. 

She squirmed uncomfortably while her mess dripped down the inside of her thighs. Peter denied any attempt to escape, eventually gathering her limbs and pulling her hands behind her back. 

Short puffs of breath fogged the glass surface of the table. Her heart pounded beneath her. Honey had only witnessed this side of him a few times—and never directed toward her. 

She was in trouble. But was she in danger?

The buckle of his belt clinked as it came free. Honey quivered at the sound, pussy aching in anticipation.

And if she was in danger, why did that make her wet?

“Pete—” Honey muttered, a scream bubbling at the back of her throat. Leather nipped at her forearms as he used his belt to tie her hands behind her back. 

“Ple-please—“

He fisted her hair, rearing her head back. Her neck arched beautifully, her chin dangling above the table surface.

“Listen to me, princess,” Peter snarled, hot in her ear. Spite peppered his tone. “If you ever call out another man’s name when I’m inside ya again— I’ll make ya wear nothin’ but my cum for the next week.” 

The savage tone contrasted with the glow of his eyes. 

It was always opposites with him.

This was the same man who coddled and worshiped her. The same one who kidnapped her, drugged her, blindfolded her, and gagged her. 

He forced her, a willing participant, into his bed—by asking her permission. 

Peter was more than capable of keeping her chained to his bedpost if he wanted it. 

Or… if she wanted it.

Peter snickered at her expression. “Ooh, yeah… Betchu’d like that, huh?” He taunted her like she was broadcasting her dirty thoughts. “Such a needy little slut for me, ain't that right?” 

Honey felt his warmth leave her back, like being plunged into the Hudson in winter. His hands reappeared at the back of her thighs, and her first instinct was to try to close her legs. 

That was a mistake and an impossible endeavor. 

He split her thighs like opening a book. Grinned at the sight as if he stumbled across gold.

“Fuck, babygirl, you’re soaked. Just talkin’ about it and look at the mess you made…”

Embarrassment and want ravaged her. The conflicting experiences had her ovaries twisted into knots. Honey bit her tongue, unsure if she was going to scream or moan. 

Instead, it came out like a pathetic mewl. “Pe-Peter, please—”

Then he open-palm-smacked her cunt, fingers landing directly on her labia. 

The wet sound it made was humiliating, and the sensation triggered all of the reactions above. She squealed at the sting on her folds. This was a delectable torture. For Peter, it was an appetizing sight. 

“Ya like that?” he grinned over the sound of her whimpers. He already knew the answer.

Another slap to her cunt made her whole body shake. 

“Like bein’ my kept girl? Tryin’ so hard to get my attention. Drivin’ me nuts. Well, you got it now, Honey.” 

Slap. 

A third strike had her pussy clenching. Honey had never experienced such an erotic rush before. She shuddered with embarrassment, afraid she’d cum from this—

Slap! Slap! Slap!

Honey gasped for air, a scream breaking through her voice. She was drowning in sick pleasure, tears in her eyes.

The mob boss gripped her thighs again, pulling her knees off the table and lifting up the weight of her lower half. The action was as easy as lifting a sheet of paper. 

God, his strength was impossible. She struggled to comprehend it while picturing herself being broken apart by it. A slew of tiny pleas fell from her lips. She didn’t even know what she was begging for—his mercy or punishment.

“Shh, shh, babygirl,” he purred with a candy voice. Brought his lips to where she was split, equal parts seductive and sinister. “Be still for me. I gotcha.” He wore a Cheshire grin. “Lemme kiss it better.” 

Slowly, he licked a line from her clit to the entrance of her cunt. She shuddered, followed by a lewd wail. She bucked her hips as he let the tip of his tongue toy with her. 

“Mmmf—so fuckin’ sweet,” Peter mumbled between languid strokes around her vaginal gate. His grip was inescapable. “Can’t help myself, s-sooo hungry…”

Honey felt an evil smile against her skin before his mouth went back to work on her. Tiny, stinging nips and kitten licks tormented her flesh. With her hips locked in place, he lashed her clit with his tongue.

Honey squirmed against the leather belt, her nails digging into the grain. She wanted to be bound like this forever. 

Peter had no intention of letting her go any time soon. 

With her thighs spread open, he dragged her toward the edge of her ecstasy. As soon as he felt her body begin to shake, he pulled away. The punishment ended with another smack to her swollen clit.

Honey cried out in frustration at having her release snatched away. 

Oh, yes—He was weak for that sound.

“What’s’a matter, baby?” he smirked with a dark chuckle. This was becoming his favorite pastime. “You mad now that you’re not the only one who can play games?”

“Gahh—Peter… fuck, plea—don’t tease—!”

Peter’s fingers slipped inside with a squelch, shutting her up. Simultaneously, he lapped at her juices while massaging her walls. Soon, he settled into an unbreakable focus.

Each kiss to her nether lips sizzled with passion. Fueled by devotion usually only reserved for a wedding day. 

“—mmmm, tastes so pretty,” he murmured into her flesh, “my pretty girls...” 

In her dazed state, Honey wondered with a pang of jealousy who the ‘she’ he was referring to was. 

“—sooo sensitive; she likes it when I kiss her like that, yeah?—” He said, in between languid, open-mouth kisses to her slit.

Jesus Fucking Christ, he’s talking about my pussy? In the third person? 

Honey gasped, scandalized at the preposterous thought. It was the most deliciously erotic moment of her life. Enraptured tears budded her eyes, the coil in her belly nearly suffocating her.

“—Fuck, oh god, Peter, don’t stop, don’stop, donstop, donstah—”

Preoccupied with his own intoxicating thoughts, Peter was eager with his tongue and steady with his hands. The room filled with the filthy, wet sounds of his carressing and French kissing of her cunt. He pleasured her with his fingers and mouth, passionately— reverently— as if making love to two different brides. 

Soon, Honey’s pleas were barely more than breathless whining. He smiled like the devil, lips coated with her slick. 

“Patience, Honey,” he admonished, sing-song and patronizing. “If you’re a good girl, maybe I might let you get to taste Her, too.”

Fuck—she was going to come from this. 

The more perverse his words were, the closer she was. So, so close—

Then, another sharp slap. 

Honey wailed, fingers digging into the leather of her restraints. Her whole body protested. The cycle repeated so many times she lost count—until her flesh was puffy from his torture. 

“Please, don’t—please, Peter, don’t tease,” she frantically begged, tears streaming. “No more— Please, I wanna come so bad—” 

He sucked on her clit.  “Yeah?”

“God, yes, please—Nyahhh-need you—Need you... inside—“

Peter hissed behind his teeth, struggling to keep his pace even as his cock jerked at her pleas. He flashed an evil smile. “S’at right?”

“Pl-please, f-feels so good, ple—gah-I need it—!”

He was in no hurry. It was almost greedy, the way he ravaged her. His fingers pressed Merlot bruises into her hips and waist while his mouth left raspberry welts on her thighs. 

Honey cried out around a moan as she felt his fingers deepen. His loving touches to her sensitive spots turned wicked, reminding her this was also a penalty for her bratty transgressions. She wept and squirmed, practically drooling on the table.

He simply grinned.

“—Mmmhm, that’s it—scream for me, princess—”

Honey’s tiny little hip thrusts fit easily in his palm as he groped her. He found it adorable, really.

“Mmm...m’sorr—ow—agh!”

“Sorry’s not gonna cut it,” he panted, eyes blown black. Shadow returned to his voice. “You’re mine now, ya hear?” His eyes traveled to where his fingers were buried to the knuckles. “Gonna fuck you every way I want—”

“Pleasepleasepleaseyes—it’syoursit’syoursallyours—”

His eyes swam over her body, drunk with lust.

All mine. 

The sinfulness of his thoughts tugged his insides into a vortex. This was wrong, he reasoned. Not how he wanted this to go. Poor girl sounded brainless, begging to be fucked.  He wasn’t much better off. This wasn’t how he planned this to go. 

But he was willing to pivot.

Hands shaking, he fumbled with his fly. It wasn’t until his cock bobbed free, glistening with precum, that he felt any sort of relief. Peter grabbed her hips and lifted them off of the table, repositioning her so he was lined up with her slit.

“Fuckin’ need you so much, Honey—” he muttered mindlessly, focused on pushing the swollen, leaking crown of his cock against the silk of her pussy. 

Her hips’ weight rested easily in his hands, and she keened at the sensation of his head pressing against her entrance. 

And god, she'd forgotten he was thick.

Honey tensed up, even as her pussy throbbed with want. It was as if all her muscles were reaching for him, heart included.

It was too much. Mascara trailed faintly down her cheeks. Her heart soared. And ached. She felt spoiled with pleasure, delighting in this penance.

More. She wanted more.

“Fuck—wanted ya so bad,” Peter mumbled, watching his cock slip through her lips. He sounded airy, hypnotized by the view. “Wanted t’crawl through your window like the goddamn—ahh— boogeyman... fuck ya in your own bed. Wanted t’take’ya home with me and keep ya there— Never let you leave.”

Honey swallowed back a sob. Then why did you send me away? 

He paused. 

Uh-oh. Did she say that out lo—?

“Because I’m an idiot,” Peter huffed, his voice fragile. 

He leaned forward and lovingly kissed up her spine, each tender press of his lips an apology. 

“I’m a stupid fuckin’ fool.” The heat of his breath ghosted across her back. “So stupid—Thought I could protect ya if I kept you away. Thought I could somehow live like that—without you.” He shook his head. “Goddamn fool.”

Peter felt the sting of tears flooding his vision. Instinctively, he squeezed his eyes shut to keep them out. “I can’t live without ya,” he nearly whimpered. “There is no life for me if you’re not in it.”

“Peter,” she said, feeling her heart lurch. Her spirit was a ship being tossed in a hurricane. One more wave, and she would break. Honey’s voice trembled, “St-stop t-talking—”

“Not until I’ve said what I shoulda said—!”

“If you don’t shut up and fuck me in the next five seconds—”

Peter cut her off by pulling her up by the shoulders and standing her upright. Honey fought it—because, of course, she did—desperately clutching the steel armor around her heart. 

Overpowering her again, he tugged the naked woman closer until her back lined up to his chest. It was an awkward position with her bound arms crushed behind her against his abs. He towered over her, eyeing her face from the side, seeking her gaze. Hooked a finger beneath her chin, forcing her to look him in the eye. 

Always the fighter, Honey tried to wrench herself from his hold. Peter’s body was like a Greek god’s, with pillar-like arms and marble fingers keeping her from wriggling away. But his soft, soulful eyes are what pinned her in place. 

As soon as she peered into their oaken color, she was trapped again. 

“No,” she sneered, shaking her head. The tears weren’t from pleasure anymore. “Don’t—”

“‘Honey and Lavender,’” he whispered, featherlike. “Those are the words. All you gotta do is say ‘em, and I’ll stop.”

She gritted her teeth, bucking against his sweetness. His arms wrapped around her torso, pulling her in.

“I thought you wanted to fuck me!” she revolted, voice getting weaker by the second. “What the hell do you want from me, Peter?!” 

His features softened. Serenity pressed between his lips. “I want all of you, Honey,” he answered with resolve. “Body and soul. Wanna spend the rest of my life with ya. If you don’t kill me first.” 

He said the ‘if’ part with a teasing lilt in his tone and a half-smile. The same smirk that she loathed—and fell in love with. 

Honey squeezed her eyes shut. Peter’s thumb came up gently, wiping a messy tear from her cheek. That loving and pure act was worse than any torture he could inflict.

Walls tumbling down, her body loosened. She went slack against his arms, instead fighting to keep more tears from flowing.

“I love you,” he whispered, pouring his soul into each word. “Forever. Remember? No matter what.” 

Peter waited for her eyelids to peel back, revealing glossy eyes and a weary expression. They stayed still for eons. Nothing but their breaths and heartbeats between them, eyes locked on each other.

“Even if you’re mad as hell at me,” he added. “Even if you hate me—I want it all.”

Her lower lip wobbled. “And what then, Peter? What now?”

A moment passed. He leaned around her shoulder, bringing her chin close, and answered her with a kiss. Gentle at first, his tongue explored hers as she relaxed against him. She felt her toes leave the ground before she realized what was happening.

Peter broke the kiss. “Now?” he breathed into her hairline. “I’m gonna show you what it means to be mine.”

One of his hands left her torso—borrowed to push the head of his cock into her gate. An overwhelming burn erupted between her legs. She arched her back away from his abs as best she could while being split open.

Honey wailed brokenly, voice shattered, as he bottomed out. Peter’s hand instinctively came up to cover her mouth. She let the scream out into his palm, just as he’d promised.

Peter hissed, letting his head fall back in agonized ecstasy. His eyes drifted shut, feeling both relief and torment buried to the hilt in her warmth. 

He barely ground out, “Shh-shhh, s’alright... that’s it, s-so good, so good for me...”

His Honey was already writhing on his cock, and he hadn’t even begun to move. She was so goddamn tight he wasn’t sure he wanted to move at all.

Still, he couldn’t help indulging himself. Never could, around her.

The arm bracing Honey’s torso snaked back across her body. His hand, burning hotter than a branding iron, stretched out and smoothed over the curvature of her belly. Her pussy clenched tighter as his palm found the trophy he was looking for—an obscene bulge in her lower stomach.

A slow, sinful curve played upon his lips. “Fuck, babygirl. Look at you.” When he uncovered her mouth, her roars had quieted down to a wanton purr. He gently tilted her head downwards so she could witness the depravity herself. “Just look at how you take my dick, Honey.” 

She shuddered at the sight, nodding rapidly, unable to speak. She wondered if this was just more teasing, but she couldn’t think beyond the penetration. 

“God, you look so beautiful like that,” he muttered breathlessly. His amber eyes were fixated on the sinful spectacle beneath her waist, unable to avert his gaze. “So pretty with my cock stuffed up inside your tummy...” 

Peter sounded unhinged, even to himself. His abs twisted into knots. Vile, perverse images eclipsed his sense of decency—her body naked and wrecked, with his seed spilling from her holes. Then, her belly round with his children. Just the thought devolved him like his civilized nature was sucked back into a black hole.

Wordless whimpers poured from her lips as her taut muscles succumbed to his girth. Calloused fingertips reached further down, brushing against the hood of her clit. She jolted in his arms with the slightest touch.

At that moment, Honey’s world disappeared. Nothing existed but the exquisite ache between her legs. 

The conquerer inside him preened. “Is that the spot? Is that where it hurts, baby?” he purred into her ear with a filthy, predatory voice. Her body answered him, rewarding him with a delicious squeeze around his shaft. “That’s it,” Peter groaned, insatiable. “Good girl. So good for me.” 

His praise, even if it was teasing, was too much. Peter’s affirmations, paired with his ministrations, tightened the coil in her stomach. Exhaustion crept up on her body even as the bubble of desire swelled.

Ever so slowly, his hips pitched back and then forward. He bottomed out again at the end of the languid stroke. A shattered mewl burst from her lips, pussy pulsating around his dick.

She was magnificent. 

”Fuck, baby. Feels s-so fuckin’ good—ahh, I missed this tight pussy so much. Wanted to play with her so bad…”

Peter’s hips moved of their own accord. They were a pornographic masterpiece in the decorative mirrors situated around the room. He stole a greedy glance at the couple’s reflection. Smiling wickedly, he turned her head, making her see what he was seeing.

Honey’s stomach fluttered at the sight of her body—glistening and restrained—slotted against him. Her head bobbed as Peter gripped her hips and fucked into her like a sex doll. 

Perverse. Debauched. Divine. It made her lightheaded.

Slowly, he increased the pace of his thrusts, panting into her ear. At some point, she started muttering. Broken and embarrassingly desperate pleas and pet names tumbled unwittingly out of her mouth.

One of them must have caught his attention. But she honestly couldn’t remember what she had said.

“Ugh—I lose my fuckin’ mind when you call me that name,” he growled, throwing his head back. “Ya know that, precious? Such a good girl for me. Good girls get spoiled.” 

Honey’s body thrummed at his baby talk. In all its depravity, she started to suspect what she must have said in all its depravity. Slowly, she was losing the ability to be ashamed.

The slick-coated pad of Peter’s thumb circled her clit, before traveling down further. He curiously prodded where they were joined—“Fuck, look at how good ya open up for me.” — His fingers trailed the outline of her stretched hymen wrapped around his cock.

Honey closed her eyes and turned away, blushing from his praise. Timid about how she relished in the filth. Peter brought his lips to her ear as if there was a secret the two of them shared.

“Don’t worry, baby. I gotcha—Daddy’s gonna make the ache go away.”

The spring snapped. She was nearly knocked over by the wave of pleasure that followed. Her pussy fluttered around his cock with no warning, body trembling and toes curling. Her cream gushed down his shaft. 

He snickered as if he’d won a prize. 

Honey could vaguely recognize her pathetic voice through the bells in her ears. She squealed and cried out over his repetitive, patronizing chants — “Awwgoodgirl, fuckin’ so-so perfect— squeezin’ me so tight” — while he fucked her through her orgasm.

It felt like several moments of pure pink haze, herself a willing victim to his delicious, relentless pull. 

“Shit, sweetie, did you just come all over my cock?” he asked, exasperated.

Embarrassment flooded her despite her persistent mewling. 

“Don’t cry, baby. Don’chu worry,” he murmured affectionately, himself obsessed with the cavern of her divine flesh. “When I said I was gonna make you my toy, I meant it.” She whimpered, nodding her head as it rested back against his shoulder. “M’not finished with you,” he said, dropping an octave. “Not by a long shot.”

Time ceased to have true meaning. Peter rammed into her steadily.

“Please don’stop, please use me, please, wan’more—” She yelped like a puppy.

He smiled against her sweaty skin. “Yeah? Ya like bein’ a good girl? My good girl?”

“I’llbegoodI’llbegoodm’yours—fuck—yoursyoursyours—”

“That’s right, sweetheart,” he groaned, with another curse beneath his breath. Eyes drifted shut. “Good, good girl.”

All he could think of was more. 

More of that sound. More of her juices. More of her staccato breaths as he fucked her tits into a steady bounce on her chest. More of her whining, whimpering like a bitch in heat.

“All mine, all mine…”

Peter needed more of her. He needed to watch her fall apart on his cock again. Honey was so close already; he could feel it. He’d give her another orgasm, one that leaves her in tears. Then another. He was going to fuck her into submission atop the throne he built for her. She was already his queen. 

Then—He’d make her his whore.

Flip her on her back against the table—or couch— countertop—fuck, maybe the bed if he could remember where it was. Whatever he could reach first. 

Then he’d split her open again on his cock. That way, he could see the enraptured awe on her face. The neediness. Big, round, wet eyes pleading for his touch, calling him filthy names, as his cock bulges below her pubic bone. Begging him to rearrange her guts.

It was heavenly to witness. Peter loved watching her come. And he would, over and over. Once he relocated her to his bed—as soon as he remembered where it was— he could tie her to it.

Not that Honey was fighting at the present. There was no fight in her body, except maybe the will to keep conscious. With every strike against her cervix, she spread herself wider for him. 

But Peter knew she would like it. Honey wanted his unforgiving ecstasy. To take out the mounting frustration of the last few months on her wet pussy. 

“M’gonna fuck you so good, babygirl, m’gonna use your body like my fucktoy—make me feel s-sogood, don’worry—“ 

Honey full-body shuddered with a sob, her head thrown back against his shoulder. 

“S’okay, baby, you can scream if y’want, makes it feel better, doesn’t it, huh—”

Cock-drunk, she nodded, her words coming out as puffs of air.

“Don’stop—don’stop—please, fuck— fuckmehardDaddyIneedit—“

Oh. 

More. Of. That.

“M’not lettin’ you get away again…” he muttered, voice emerging from beneath his twitching abdominal muscles. With possessed eyes, he was glued to where they joined. “Never—never gonna let you go again… All mine now, Honey—you’re all mine…”

Her arms came up to circle the back of his neck as she panted into his throat. “My-my pussy is yours…”

“Everything,” he corrected.

“Everythi—god—I’m yours, Pete—ahh!”

Peter was getting close. No matter. He’d let himself come inside her soon. There was plenty more to follow. 

He barely recognized his own wrecked voice. “’m not leavin,’ baby. I’m not leavin’ ever.”

A gust of wind followed him as the front door to the suite slammed shut. Peter stood alone in the hotel hallway wearing a sheen of sweat... and nothing else. 

He flushed pink, fumbling to cover himself behind his hands. The cool air made the task easier.

Peter sighed. He’d need to talk to maintenance about better insulation up here.

But not right now. Not while Peter Parker stood ass-naked outside of his door, having been kicked out like a cheap fuck. 

Which might have been Honey’s point, he recognized.

The evidence of their past hour together made his skin sticky. She’d tousled his hair and etched into his back with her nails. He felt sore in places he hadn’t felt in years.

Peter also looked thoroughly fucked. A mixture of pain and relief surged through his muscles. His brain was branded with erotic images of her. He wanted them there.

The door opened again, lifting his hopes. He only caught a fleeting glimpse of Honey, wrapped sloppily in a bathrobe. The rest of her didn’t look much better than Peter. She wore a sour yet adorable scowl on her face.

With a huff, Honey hurled a tight wad of fabric at his nuts, unintentionally intentional in her aim. 

Peter oofed, doubling over to catch the ball of his clothes. At the same time, an Italian leather shoe smacked him in the head. Probably his Tom Ford’s. He heard the door slam closed again, rattling against the frame.

Perplexed, Peter gazed at the molding of the door and the gleaming golden script marking the room number. 

He wondered. 

Would she open the door again to throw him the other shoe? 

Or perhaps the slacks that went along with the dress shirt covering his balls?

Unlikely.

He marveled. 

The nerve of this woman. This goddess-barista who served him his soul in a paper cup. Who held the keys to his heart, his home, and presently, his hotel room. Who somehow managed to kick him out of the penthouse suite of his own hotel. 

Within the confines of his ruined dress shirt, Peter felt another buzz. He fumbled with the shirt, reaching the smartphone concealed inside.

>>> have you moved onto the main course? >>> or are you still tossing the salad? >>> pouring ranch on her hidden valley

Felicia. Peter’s eyes nearly rolled out of his head. With a sigh, he tapped out a reply.

<<<  Kitchen’s closed.  <<< Need clothes. And a new room.

He saw the ellipsis bubbling up on his screen. 

<<< Not another word.

As soon as the message was sent, Peter took another glance at his empty surroundings. Haplessly, he looked toward the closed door. A river of memories flooded him. It surged, swelled, and finally, came to a low simmer.

This was never going to be easy. Nothing ever was with her.

Nothing worth waiting for ever is.

“See you at breakfast,” he whispered aloud lips curled into a smile. “Sleep tight.”

Holding her breath and her ear to the door, Honey waited until Peter’s footsteps faded. When she could no longer hear them, she sighed with exasperation, overcome with exhaustion. Eyes falling closed, Honey leaned back against the door, body aching in places she would feel for days.

After taking a moment, she heard a buzzing sound further in the suite. Honey jumped with alarm, then stumbled on Fawn’s feet to reach the source.

Quickly, Honey waddled to the remains of her yellow dress, fishing out the buzzing object: a 10-year-old smartphone with a black glittery hard case. A holographic cat sticker was fixed to the back, shimmering in the dim light. 

Not just any cat.

She unlocked the phone to see the latest message.

>>> how’d it go? u give him hell?

The heaviest exhale left Honey’s chest, shame creeping up her chest. With her thumb, she scrolled up to review the text messages sent to her. The oldest of which dated back almost four months.

Weeks of correspondence and reassurance from Felicia, not to mention very clear instructions about Peter Parker and how to play his game. 

There was the one from last month:

>>> don’t let him think for one second that you’re gonna let him get off easy!

Then one from last week:

>>> make him suffer. make him grovel. make him lay down in a puddle so you can cross

And these:

>>> go to dinner, but don’t eat anything. order wine, the most expensive one, take one sip and refuse the rest. you pick the restaurant. if he picks the restaurant, hate everything about it >>> play hard to get— but don’t be too cold >>> be flirty. but not slutty.  >>> give him bedroom eyes, but don’t let him stare at you too long.

Finally, there was a clear instruction sent earlier today.

>>> under no circumstances >>> no matter what >>> you need to remember this >>> DO NOT FUCK HIM!!1

Honey frowned as she gazed at Felicia’s text message bubble, sent with so much hope and good intention. A notion soundly defeated. A truly hopeless endeavor, if there ever was one.

Biting her lip, Honey tapped out a reply to her confidant:

<<< Sure did.

Thank you for everything you do. Please keep fanfic healthy and support my writing with a reblog.

[meanstreetspodcasts]

A long time ago, on a radio far, far away...

May the Fourth Be With You!

It's one of the biggest Star Wars days in recent memory, with the success of The Mandalorian and the promise of even more stories from the galaxy on Disney Plus. When this date rolls around each year, I fire up my 4Ks (formerly Blu-rays, formerly DVDs, formerly multiple incarnations on VHS) and I revisit the Star Wars Radio Dramas.

Yes. Star Wars on the radio. As a kid who was both discovering the world of old time radio and a rabid Star Wars fan, these shows were like manna from heaven when I first heard them in 1995. I first learned of them in a retrospective article in the glossy quarterly magazine published by the Lucasfilm Fan Club (I was a card carrying member ), and when they appeared in a catalog close to my birthday, it was the only thing I wanted. My parents got me cassette collections of Star Wars and The Empire Strikes Back, and I couldn’t tell you how many times I ran through those combined 23 episodes through middle and high school.

The radio adaptation of Star Wars aired in between the theatrical releases of The Empire Strikes Back and Return of the Jedi. Coming to the airwaves at a time when American radio drama was all but extinct, this joint production of NPR and the BBC dramatized the first film in the Star Wars trilogy as a thirteen-part series. Not only did it feature several cast members recreating their roles - Mark Hamill as Luke Skywalker and Anthony Daniels as C-3PO - but it also featured the classic sounds of the film (Chewbaca’s roar, R2-D2′s blips and beeps, the hum of TIE Fighters streaking through space) and John Williams’ fantastic score.

Science fiction author Brian Daley expanded upon the film script - the plot of the movie proper doesn’t kick in until Episode 3 of the radio series. Episode 1 focuses on Luke Skywalker’s life on Tatooine as he watches the stars and dreams of life beyond the farm. Years before scenes were added in the Star Wars Special Edition, Brian Daley added scenes between Luke and his best friend Biggs Darklighter, an Imperial cadet who confides in Luke that he intends to join the rebellion against the Empire. These early scenes give their reunion later in the story more weight as they take part in the mission to destroy the Death Star.

Episode 2 is all about Princess Leia. It establishes her espionage bona fides before she ever comes into possession of the plans for the Death Star. She uses an Imperial officer’s leering advances to her advantage and gets him to reveal the secrets of the Empire’s ultimate weapon.

It isn’t just Luke and Leia who get additional shading. In another move that preceded the Special Edition, Daley adds a scene with Han Solo and a Tatooine mob boss in the hangar of the Millennium Falcon. It isn’t Jabba the Hutt but it plays almost exactly the same - and frankly, it plays better than the scene with a young Harrison Ford and a crudely rendered Jabba. Daley wrote three Han Solo novels, and he plugged in perfectly to the seedier side of the galaxy far, far away.

It’s scenes like these that give the new actors a chance to put their own spin on the characters, an easier task when they don’t have to say the iconic lines of the film. Ann Sachs does a great job as Leia, and Perry King is charmingly roguish as Han Solo. And in a particularly inspired bit of casting, Brock Peters - miles from Tom Robinson - plays the dastardly Darth Vader.

The Empire Strikes Back followed two years later with the whole cast returning plus Billy Dee Williams recreating his screen role of Lando Calrissian and John Lithgow taking the role of Yoda. He’s terrific - Lithgow doesn’t do a straight impression of Frank Oz, but he captures the character and injects him with additional shading.

There’s less original material here - perhaps a testament to the wonderful screenplay penned by Leigh Brackett and Lawrence Kasdan? - but Brian Daley adds a nice prologue that finds a Rebel convoy cut to shreds by a TIE Fighter ambush. It helps to set the scene for the darker second act of the trilogy. The ten-part series is wonderful, and while some additional “new” scenes might have been nice to include, you really can’t go wrong with the story presented.

Plans for a Return of the Jedi radio drama fell through and the final chapter wasn’t released until 1996, and even then it was produced by Highbridge Audio and not broadcast on NPR. This may adhere the closest to the film story, save for a nice scene where Luke Skywalker constructs his new lightsaber. Most of the cast is back, but Mark Hamill was sadly absent (though he was enjoying a second career as a voice actor - the farm boy from Tatooine was the Clown Prince of Crime in Batman: The Animated Series). Joshua Fardon does a fine job as Luke, but it would have been a treat to hear Hamill revisit his iconic role thirteen years later. John Lithgow comes back as Yoda, and Ed Asner growls his way through a performance as Jabba the Hutt.

This six-part show suffers a bit in comparison to the first two chapters (as does the movie itself), but it’s still engrossing entertainment with all of the music and magic of Star Wars.

I’ve been revisiting the series and it’s as much fun as it was when I first heard it as a kid. The entire trilogy is available in a great CD collection from Higbridge Audio. If you’re a fan of audio drama and/or a Star Wars fan, or if you are looking for a gateway to introduce someone to radio theater, check these shows out and take a trip to a galaxy far, far away.

Check out this episode!

[backtothefanfiction]

Who’s ready for one last week of The Angel In The Garden of Evil?!!

After an incredible journey with these characters, it’s time to give them their ending. I will be posting not two but THREE final instalments to this series this week. We will have our usual chapters on Wednesday and Friday followed by a special Epilogue chapter on Sunday to say goodbye to Angel and Peter.

I can’t believe we are at the end already. Writing these guys’ journey has been quite the ride and has proven so much to myself about my writing abilities, including I can in fact write a novel (as this is exactly what this story has turned into).

Thank you everyone who has been on this journey so far. I’d love to do a proper send off for it next week with a Q & A or chance just to reminisce with people about their favourite bits; so be sure to fill my inbox with all your questions and best bits so we can keep the love going and talk about them.

I do have other works sitting in the drafts waiting on some love so this won’t be the end of my writing journey, there’s still plenty of stories to come. As teased I do have a 1920s theme Spider-Man story in the works. as well as the Kink ‘til Christmas prompts after Kinktober went out the window. And shhh don’t tell anyone but after starting to rewatch Under The Banner of Heaven again, I may be throwing around some ideas in my head for a Jeb Pyre multi chapter fic seeing as we seem to be lacking over here on that content.

Anyway, thank you all again for your love and support on this series. I hope you will all stay with me on this journey as we continue to make magic and weave narratives together.

[tarzinnia]

I wasn't sure where this was heading because the pot was boiling over and I was dancing around your words with two oven mitts and a fire extinguisher trying to protect the two leads from the anger like they were my progeny. And yet, sometimes those words have to be said don't they?! And you did it so well. The catharsis of telling each other what and why it hurts so. Well done!!

Taking the journey from anger and pain and pain and anger but when you do it together, with love and compassion, so worthwhile...

Mob!peter fan club member for life.

Love of Mine

Heeeey @hollandweather remember that request you sent me forever ago?? ii went with the mob!peter version ii hope you're good with that :)

Pairing: Mob!Peter Parker x Fem!Reader

Content Warnings: Lots of fighting and yelling, happyish ending, angsty. Let me know if I missed anything cause I'm sure I did.

Kind of a sequel but not really to this

Pretty please read and reblog!! thanks friend

Freshly painted black nails contrasted against the soft cream color of the armchair cushion as she dug her nails into the fabric. Standing in the dimly lit office waiting for him to notice her, she stood like a haunting figure in front of him, simply waiting for an acknowledgment. 

“Peter.” Her words came out soft, yet stern. Swallowing the angry lump in her throat as his eyebrows raised, and his chest fell.

“Yes baby?”

He spoke simply, not even lifting his head to acknowledge her. He was engrossed in whatever he was looking at some paper with a mugshot attached. Ever since the shootout that killed him Peter had been different. He came back different. Angerier, more cruel. Never to her, just others. She hadn’t been sure what happened, maybe it had given him time to reflect. Time to be angry at the cards he was dealt in life. 

“Do you not..?” She fumbled over her words in her upset. 

“It feels like you don’t care about..us anymore Peter.” There was a sad honesty in her voice. She wished she had been making it up, that it was all in her head. Peter threw himself into his work the moment he got better. He’d leave several times for days on end; not a single call to let her know he was okay or when he’d be home. It was unlike him. 

He furrowed his brows, looking at her finally. “Of course I care, baby.”

 Again, there's the distance in his voice. It feels rehearsed, almost like he’d been practicing this delivery for the months he’s been back. There were times where he didn’t seem himself, he was quick to anger and quick to jump. He and Harry having nearly had several physical altercations since being back. Felicia having gone ghost on them after she and Peter had it out over an action plan. His wife was feeling his anger, and it was nesting in her. She could try to nurse him back to his mentality before, she could settle his arguments with friends and colleagues. However, she could only handle him neglecting her for so long. 

“Do you know what today is?” She began to wander around the office. Their wedding picture is sitting snugly on the bookcase in a gold frame. Both are much younger in the photo having gotten married straight out of high school. 

“October 19th..wh- Oh, oh baby.” 

For a moment her Peter was there, the realization washed over the room. She knew he felt like an idiot rethinking the day. She’d made his favorite breakfast, they showered together, and she’d even gone shopping and excitedly showed him everything she had gotten. She was now dressed in a purple slip dress she’d bought today. 

 He forgot their anniversary. 

 Peter stood up from his desk rushing to her. She felt exposed under his touch, pulling her face away as he grabbed her jaw in his calloused hand. 

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry baby.” 

“It’s whatever Peter.” She backed away, tears pooling in her eyes. “I just wanted to know that you still cared and…well, I got my answer.” Angrily she stormed out of his office, slamming the door shut behind her. A photo of them falling off his decor table in the show of aggression, the frame bursting into dozens tiny pieces. 

Peter followed behind her, his feet slamming against the hardwood of the stairs. “I don’t care! Is that what you’re saying right now?” 

“That's what I said.” She yells back trying to slam their bedroom door in his face. Peter grabbed it, pushing it open. He stared at her in shock, standing there with his arms at his side. His wife glaring back at him, tears spilling down her cheeks. 

“You don’t care about me or us anymore. All you care about is killing those people who hurt you. All you care about is work, what’s being moved in and what's being taken out.” She started pointing a finger at him. “This is the last fucking straw Peter. I’m fucking tired. I can’t keep fixing the things you fuck up because you are so blinded by rage. You are so fucking selfish. You forgot my birthday, and our wedding anniversary. Harry doesn’t even want to see you any fucking more because you are not yourself. I want Peter back not whatever fucking stranger crawled into your body while you were dying. I want my husband because you are not him, he was a good husband.” 

Both her and Peter stared at one another. She knew she shouldn’t have said it.  

Her anger echoed in the room, she expected him to fight back. She wanted him to fight back, yell, scream, let her know that he in some way cared. Instead he turned and looked at himself in the mirror and then down at his socked feet. 

“So me proving I care about you, about Harry. About anything other than myself would mean I’d stop taking down the people who hurt me. I’d stop going after Li or Fisk’s guys who got together and planned to kill not only me but everything I cared about including you?”

 He stared at her like she had five heads. Not knowing how to respond she rubbed her hands down her face. He was putting words in her mouth. 

“Cool, cool  yeah. I’ll stop, fuck I’ll step down from being the head of this organization.  We can totally live a normal life not constantly looking over our shoulders.`` 

“You’re being mean, you’re putting words in my fucking mouth.” She warns. Peter takes a deep breath shaking his head as he looks down, something he did to keep himself from crying. 

“I went to that warehouse to protect all of you. Do you understand that? Because if I didn’t go to them, they were gonna come to us. Now, I am cleaning up a mess I made that has put you all at risk. I’m..” Peter’s hands shook at his side, before coming up to rub his face aggressively. He dropped down to the floor sitting his back against the wall. 

“I’m sorry I’m a bad husband, I haven’t been a good husband since that night and I’m so sorry. I’m sorry I left you here, I’m sorry I scared you. I’m sorry that I put you in any danger by coming back. But as a good husband and as a good friend or boss I have to kill them.” He whispered to her, as she joined him on the floor. 

“You have every right to be mad at me. I’m mad at myself. And this isn’t me guilt tripping you, this is me telling you that you’re right I haven’t been a good husband and I’m sorry. I’m sorry I forgot your birthday and our anniversary and that I’ve been a total piece of shit.”

“I didn’t mean it. I just, I knew it would hurt your feelings and I wanted you to hurt like I did.” 

Peter kissed her head, his hand cradling her cheek bringing her to his chest. She let out a soft sigh burying her head in his neck. “I just got caught up in keeping everyone safe that I forgot what I was protecting. I am so sorry for hurting you and doing anything that made you feel like I didn’t love you” He whispered in her hair, rubbing small circles on her back. 

“I know. And I know I’ll forgive you for it, but can we start by at least having an anniversary night? It’s all I want, just you and me, no work or anything.”

“I’ll give you an anniversary week, how's that?” Peter bargains. “Make up for the missed birthday. We can go anywhere you want.” 

“Anywhere?” She smiles up at her husband, who gives her a loving look before kissing her cheek. 

“Anywhere.” He confirms holding her closer. “I love you.” He assures her, pulling her legs over his thigh rocking her. 

“I love you too.”