Homeless Peter Parker Ao3 Novels & Stories

died. "Get the lady a glass of water, Peter. She looks thirsty" He said. I finally glanced at the Man. He was— beautiful, with perfectly gelled hair and beautiful grey eyes. He looked everything a man was supposed to be. A beautiful criminal. TBC

What in the name of the spirits is happening. "Xander." Amanda's voice echoed at the back of my head. "What do you want from me?" He screamed. "Xander." Blue pearls s voice followed. Their voices kept echoing to the point that hw thought he was going crazy "Go away." He screamed not knowing what exactly he should say. Just then the door screeched open Daniel entered and he woke up from whatever delusional dream that was... thank goodness it's just a dream. Meanwhile back at the moonlight pack, A document had just be dropped that a certain pack had staged war between them and the moonlights and it was still about this cringe thing of merging and becoming the beta.

His torn suit hung on him in tatters as he moved his mended arm back and forth experimentally before smiling with satisfaction. "What the hell was that?" choked out Zander, his face a mask of disgust. "What are you?" Peter chuckled sourly. "Sorry to spring that on you without warning." He didn't sound sorry. "Just one of the perks of the Blessing." "You call that a perk?" snapped Zander with derision. "You're some kind of demon." Peter sneered, "I'm more powerful than you'll ever be, half-breed." His body tightened as if preparing to spring forward. Zander crouched, pivoting to keep Peter in front of him.

"You don't have to push yourself." Peter's hands clenched into fists on his knees, his knuckles white with strain. "This is exactly what I was afraid of. I want to comfort you, to touch you the way a mate should, but the moment I try..." He shuddered, his face twisting with disgust that I knew wasn't directed at me, but at himself. I found myself leaning forward slightly, studying his profile as he stared out at the pack lands below. There was something almost tragic about Peter, caught between what he wanted to feel and what he'd been conditioned to feel, trapped in a prison of his own mind.

I couldn’t do anything, since nothing belonged to me anymore. Meanwhile, I was living a surprisingly peaceful life in Peter's apartment out of town. It was a world away from the sterile corporate environment I was used to. Peter, the man I had known only as my funny, ever observant assistant revealed himself to be a surprisingly warm and gentle soul. He lived alone with his three mischievous cats being his only companions. And he could cook. Seriously, the man could cook. Every evening, he would whip up culinary masterpieces, a far cry from the sad and depressing takeout dinners I'd been surviving on since my mother’s passing.