Wilted (Peter Parker x Reader)

31

Peter

As soon as the words left my mouth, the criminal in front of me collapsed into a helpless baby bird. It was almost chilling, the way her eyes darted around the room as she saw something I couldn't, and her white knuckles clenched the bed frame as if it was the only thing tying her to the earth anymore.

From the shocked expression in her eyes to the way her limbs shivered as if she could get cold, I knew she was having a panic attack. It was clear she didn't understand how to be comforted but she needed it. Instead of running and scooping her up in my arms, I slowly lowered myself onto the ground beside the bed, holding delicate eye contact with her as she watched me nervously.

Her (darker color of your) eyes followed my every move and I could see her trying her hardest to hide the fear away. Unfortunately for her, she radiates her emotions, so I could feel it all. The confusion, the self loathing, the bitterness, the horror. She didn't have anything to help herself.

"It's okay, you're okay. You're safe." I whispered, paying attention to how heavy her breathing was becoming. I didn't know what triggered her or what was wrong, all I knew is she needed help. I poked the top of my wrist with my pinky and let the protective suit shutter off of my body, scooting closer a few inches at a time and reaching my bare hand out to her.

"Don't touch me!" She shouted out suddenly and quickly shoved herself backwards a foot. I quickly retreated my hand but continued to watch her with light eyes. I didn't want to startle her, I didn't want to force her into anything, but I couldn't let this continue to suffocate her.

"It's okay, Y/n." I whispered again. She kept the same expression on her face, similar to that of a petrified child, but stayed put as I scoot closer to her again. Her eyes followed my hand as I slowly lifted it back up, her body still with fright as I delicately laid my hand on her back.

Y/n's eyes relaxed immediately and trailed off to look at the ground while I caressed small circles back and forth over her shirt. I was wary of her skin peaking out as the clothing moved around but stayed far enough away from the risk.

I watched her closely as her eyebrows furrowed into thought and her death clutch on the bed released. Both of her arms were resting by her side as her body curled into itself more, knees to her chest. Suddenly, she was shaking with sobs.

"Y/n?" I called gently, scooting a few inches to be face to face with her. "What's wrong?"

Her dark eyes slowly peered up at me, showing just how red they were from her quickly building emotions, and shook her head, unable to speak. She had been processing so much information on her own, she wasn't able to speak up.

She opened her mouth to speak, but shook her head again and looked back to the ground as nothing came out. Without looking back up, her hand slowly reached up to the bed and grabbed the (your favorite color) blanket. As she pulled it halfway off the bed, one side stuck in the crack against the wall, she looked back up to me.

Her features were unexpected. While I was becoming used to her anger, the sorrow was harder to deal with. I didn't like seeing her in a state that was so crippling and I hated not being able to physically change what's hurting her.

"Your blanket?" I asked as I took one of the ends she was holding out to me. I forgot how soft this thing was to the touch. "Oh! Yeah! This was your blanket, I got it for you when-"

"When I got sick." She finished my sentence, gazing into my eyes as if she was waiting for me to tell her if it was a real memory or false.

I couldn't help the small scoff that ripped from my throat as she interrupted me, proving all of my theories right about being fragile with her memories. It basically found her on its own.