Hi V!! If It's Not Much To Ask, Could I Request A Tasm Peter Fic Where Reader Encourages Him To Wear

hi v!! if it's not much to ask, could I request a tasm peter fic where reader encourages him to wear his glasses more cause he looks soooo good in them 🥺 you can take this prompt wherever you want lol I just thought it'd be cute. totally fine if you can't/don't want to!! have a great day <33

glasses

tasm!peter x reader

warnings: fluff, head trauma, teasing (as per usual)

a/n: no one in this fic grabs glasses by the lens because i am not a monster

*

you’re humming to yourself as you walk through the door. bag hanging at your side, feet aching from the walk home.

and your neck hurts a bit. tiny pin pricks of pain trailing up your skin like an uncomfortable reminder that you’re still human. and your stomach is grumbling from the lunch you made, and you can feel your head grinning maliciously, the beginnings of an ache coming on.

but you’re home. and it is a welcome enough reminder when you see peters shoes by the door. his bag hung up against the door, camera strap hanging out the side.

a fresh smile warms your face, and even though you know peter can hear you—feel you—you tiptoe into the living room, sliding off your tennis shoes.

you peek around the corner, sneakily looking for a mop of hair and unnaturally tan skin. but he’s not on the couch.

you frown.

sneaking up to tackle peter might be your favorite part of the day.

“peter?” you call into the empty apartment. “hiding is against the rules.”

you walk into the kitchen, biding your time by stealing a couple of grapes and sipping on whatever coffee peter brought home. it’s cold, but sweet, like chocolate milk so you carry it with you.

but when you’re back he’s still not there.

you scowl, crossing your arms. “i am not playing hide-and-seek,” you say, into the abyss. the silence is teasing.

you sit on the couch, turning on the tv just to get back at him. look at how unbothered you are.

you sit there for probably three minutes. sipping on peters coffee, and tapping your fingers against your leg incessantly. of course he would do this. today.

you’re just about to say something to him again—where ever the bastard is—when something falls on your head.

you yelp and move back, staring at the glasses, now smudged, sitting on the couch like a taunt.

and finally you look up.

peters got his hand over his mouth, a smirk hiding behind those eyes. you glare back at him, biting your lip before you can yell at him.

“oops,” he says, dropping himself on one hand so he can fall on the floor next to you, rubbing the new bump on your head. “sorry, bug.”

your mouth is open and you’re staring at him—glowering—as his lip twitches with the effort not to laugh.

“glad you find yourself amusing,” you snap, but your own laugh sneaks up on you before you can stop it.

he holds his hands up in defense. “all you had to do was look up.”

“oh yeah,” you nod vigorously, accidentally elbowing him in the stomach. “my bad for not checking for you on the ceiling.”

“it was in self defense!” peter pleads, sitting down next to you. his eyes are evil. “i was trying to avoid being attacked!”

“so you attack me instead?”

“they fell,” he emphasizes, sliding his glasses back on. “i said sorry.”

“you’re not forgiven.” you turn away from him, laying back on the couch.

“c’mon, baby.”

you pout.

“it was an accident. y’know id never hurt you on purpose. i cant say the same for some people in this house…” he adds on, smiling at you innocently. he ruffles your hair. “i missed you.”

finally you meet his eyes. completely adoring and somewhat irritating. you make a face and groan. “ugh,” you say, shielding yourself from him. “stop that.”

“what?”

you push him away. “take those off.”

peter frowns, trying to look at his glasses, crossed eyes and unserious. “what? why?”

“you cant look cute when i’m trying to be mad at you,” you say to him, reaching for the glasses, “it isn’t fair.”

peter leans back, giggling mischievously. he pushes your hands away. “i didn’t realize you liked my glasses.”

you pause and blink at him, glaring. “everyone likes a hot nerd.”

“so you think i’m hot,” peter drawls.

“you’re literally my boyfriend. we’ve had this discussion.”

peter leans towards you, a smirk playing on his lips. his cheek keeps twitching and it’s getting hard not to laugh at him and his high eyebrows. “i don’t remember,” peter whispers, “you should remind me.”

you poke his forehead, pushing him and his self righteousness away. “why are you even wearing those? you don’t need them.”

“i think my eyes are going bad again.”

his head twitches, and you watch his completely warm and inviting eyes as he lies. he’s staring at you, and you watch as his eyes dart down, then back up.

“oh no,” you coo, crawling towards him, a different feeling emerging in your chest. “let me see.”

you’re an inch away from his face. if you said another word your lips would brush his. you stare into his eyes, watching him flinch at the feeling of your hand on his chest. his breath hits your cupids brow.

“oh yeah,” you whisper, leaning forward, his lips hitting yours. then you pull back, frowning. “you’re going blind,” you say, “there’s nothing to be done.”

“is that the doctors professional opinion?” peter mumbles, swallowing.

“you won’t be needing these anyway,” you say to him, smiling viciously, and stealing them off of his face.

then you push away from him, moving to the opposite end of the couch.

peter clears his throat, running a hand through his hair. there is a tense moment where you both avoid each others eyes.

“is this payback?” peter asks.

“not sure what you mean, baby.”

“my glasses hit you on the head so you hold them captive?”

you smile, wiping a smudge on the lens with your shirt. “don’t worry, we’re just getting acquainted.” and then you put them on, grinning at peter.

“so you can wear them but i can’t?”

“if you want them back…” you push them down your nose, looking at peter through your eyebrows. “i guess you’ll have to come and take them.”

peter snorts and stands up, taking his time walking towards you. his face is dark, his eyes have fallen down your trap, and you don’t plan to let him go any time soon.

as he takes another step towards you, you can feel it. that tension, the magnetic pull between the two of you. and you know that peter would stick to the ceiling just to get away from it. to avoid the undeniable chemistry between the two of you.

and you know that you would jump up and cling on to him.

when peter is one step in front of you, you pout innocently. “did you want something?”

peters movements are undetectable as he throws the glasses off of your face, leaning down over you, all of him imposing and strong and completely right as his hands wrap around your face, his lips just millimeters from yours.

it takes genuine restraint to keep yourself from leaning forward. and you can tell that peter is feeling the same thing.

“am i forgiven?” he asks, voice low and blurred by your want to leave marks on every inch of his skin.

“just kiss me,” you hiss, and the words are nothing but a pencil scribble down the page before peter is on you, and you are on him.

your hands pull on his hair, and you force him to smother you, his chest leaning against yours, his arms falling as you make him let go.

you’d gladly let peter crush you forever, if only he would string your skin together like fabric.

he moans when you scratch at his scalp, and bites at your lip when you giggle in response.

it is no slow kiss, with no more teasing.

you’ve both reached the end of this cliff, and if he falls, you’re going right with him.

it is breathless and rough, and you don’t mind at all as peters hand around your waist pulls you even closer. as his lips attack yours, and his breath contaminates your own.

your hand moves, going to the neck of his shirt and pulling. then around his shoulders, pleading.

peter laughs against you. he moves back, just so he can whisper, “i’ll start wearing my glasses more often if this is the consequence.”

“shut up,” you lean up to him, using his skin for leverage.

his smile is childish and it melts into you.

you breathe against him, unable to keep your own smile back. teeth clash, but neither of you mine or pause.

until peter breathes too harshly, too recklessly. he pulls back, laughing at your face, at your puffy lips and bewitched eyes. “bedroom?” he asks.

you smile back at him, leaning over to grab the glasses he threw beside you, and sliding them on his face. “those stay on,” you tell him.

his laugh echoes as he carries you down the hallway.

*

So happy to hear that!!!!!!!!!

As you can tell, I've enjoyed the extra attention you've written into the characters--what they're thinking, feeling, and that they have flaws and make mistakes and yet it flows well with the plot. You've kept the essence of Peter Parker and made it unique to your style. I look forward to reading whatever you've got planned. Plus, for the above story, I am intrigued--it's a fascinating era.

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!

Reader, Reader, Reader. Why? This is me after she ran away....

Back to the story...

Chef Matt is finding out all this info about Reader and then when Foggy interrupts HE JUST SAYS, "Here, I'll let you out..." ????????

Matt, you ignorant slut. Step outside with her for a minute. "Thanks again..." What happened to Mr. Mutual Agreement, I'll make time for you, and other charming flirty thoughts to put in her doubting questioning brain so that she...you know... knows that you LIKE her???

Despite Foggy's impeccable unfortunate timing, he does have a valid point or two regarding Matt and love. Glad to know culinary school isn't so different from law school when it comes to cross examination.

Reader just all flustered and full of hope and yet trying so hard to manifest a broken heart. She says she trusts Matt; does she not trust herself? Gotta break a few eggs to make an omelette there girly girl.

Enjoyed flirty!Matt working the charm. Given the conclusion, (darn cliffhanger! I see you author, giggling over your keyboard) maybe he should've started with the mimosas (many of them) and creme brulee instead of the risotto.

Thanks for the update!

Cooking Up Love, Chapter 9

Pairing: Chef!Matt Murdock x F!Journalist!Reader

Rating: T

Story Summary: Here 

Warnings/Tags: Hallmark levels of fluffy, cheesy goodness (and speed that their relationship develops, lol), no use of Y/N, Matt is not a vigilante, idiots in love

Word Count: ~3100

A/N: I'm so excited to share this chapter!!! This was the first scene that popped in my head when I first got the idea for this fic, so I hope y'all enjoy!

As always, thanks to @theradioactivespidergwen for the header!

Tag List: @yarrystyleeza @hailey-murdock @mattkinsella @bellaxgiornata @danzer8705 @chezagnes @shouldbestudying41 @thepunisherfrankcastle @mattmurdocks6thscaleapartment

“Hi,” Matt greeted you with a smile as you stepped inside Daredevil later that evening. “Thanks for coming.”

You smiled back at him. “Thanks for the invite.”

Matt led you to a table near the kitchen. “Here, have a seat.” 

You furrowed your brow in confusion. “I thought I was watching you cook again?”

Matt shook his head as he pulled a chair out for you. “I actually kind of had a different idea for tonight.” 

You sat. “Oh, okay.”

Matt pushed your chair in. “Be right back.”

You waited as Matt left then returned with a pitcher of water and some crackers.

He poured some water into your glass and set the pitcher and crackers down on the table, then reached into his pocket and pulled out a blindfold. 

He fiddled with it, looking somewhat nervous. “Since you said you wanted to get to know me and how I developed my culinary skills I thought we could do a blind tasting… if you’re okay with that.”

Your mind drifted back to the skillful way Matt had handled himself in the kitchen on Saturday and Sunday. You had been impressed at the ease and precision with which he had chopped and diced and flipped and sauteed and had been looking forward to watching him cook again (admittedly not only because his cooking skills were so impressive but so you could check him out without being too obvious about it). Oh well.

You nodded. “Yeah, yeah that’s okay.”

Matt huffed out a breath. "Good. I wasn't sure how you'd feel about being blindfolded."

You shook your head. "I meant it when I said that I trust you, Matt."

A soft smile spread across Matt's face. "I'm glad. And by the way, I promise there's nothing too unusual on the menu tonight."

He handed you the blindfold. "Here, put this on and I'll be right back."

You slipped the blindfold over your eyes as Matt left to go to the kitchen, engulfing yourself in darkness. 

About a minute later, you could hear the door to the kitchen open. “Okay,” Matt said. “Here’s the first course.”

He set a dish down in front of you. "I want you to use your non-visual senses to tell me what this is.”

You fumbled around for a utensil. "Oh, um…"

Matt placed his hand on top of yours then guided you to it. "Sorry, here, let me help you."

Your heart skipped a beat at his warm touch. "Thanks."

"It's no problem."

You grinned. "Apologies in advance if I accidentally make a mess. You might have to wind up feeding me like I'm a small child."

Matt huffed out a laugh. "Would you like me to?"

Your face heated as you pictured Matt sitting right next to you, his thumb caressing your cheek as he guided your utensils to your mouth with his other hand…

You shook your head. "It might wind up coming to that, but I'm going to at least try to feed myself first."

Matt laughed again. "Okay, fair enough."

You carefully reached your free hand in front of you, realizing that there was a small bowl set on top of a plate. You dipped your utensil into the bowl, coming into contact with a porridge-like substance.

You scooped some of it up then raised it to your nose to give it a sniff. 

You nodded approvingly. "Hmm."

"Well?" Matt said. "Describe what you smell."

You thought for a moment. "Well, it smells delicious, for one."

Matt chuckled. "That's good, but be more specific."

You smelled it again. "It smells… salty? Well no, not salty , but like something familiar that's salty, and it's also sort of earthy? Like grassy, but not."

You winced. "I'm sorry, I'm describing this so badly."

"No, no, you're doing great," Matt assured you. "Now give it a taste."

You took a bite, your eyebrows raising in delight at the taste of rice, cheese, and… something . "Is this sweet potato risotto?"

Matt hummed. "No, actually it's butternut squash and saffron, but I get how you'd think it was sweet potato."

You took another bite, now recognizing the salty with which you had described the scent. "With pancetta?"

"Yeah. I've been trying to perfect it but felt like it had been missing something, so tonight I used the leftover pancetta I had on hand to add some extra flavor and texture to the dish."

You nodded. "I really like it."

"So do you think it's menu-worthy?"

You took another bite. "Mmm. Mmhmm, yeah, absolutely."

"Okay, great." Matt took your hand and placed a cracker into it. "Okay, so between courses I want you to eat a cracker and drink some water."

"Okay." You furrowed your brow as you tasted the cracker. "Huh, I guess I was expecting it to taste like a saltine."

Matt chuckled. "Yeah, table crackers actually kind of remind me of Communion wafers. They're pretty flavorless but cleanse the palette so you don't get any flavors confused."

You heard him stand. "I'll be right back with the next dish."

You nodded as he picked up the plate. "Okay."

While Matt was gone, you carefully reached for your glass of water then took a sip. You couldn't even imagine the trauma he had gone through as a child, having to learn to navigate the world without his eyesight.

You felt around the table before setting your glass down, terrified that you would wind up setting it too close to the edge and spilling it -- or worse, dropping it and breaking the glass.

You turned towards the kitchen as the door swung open.

Matt set another dish down in front of you. "Okay, next one."

He handed you a piece of pita bread. "This one's a dip, so go ahead and try it."

You felt for the bowl and dunked the pita bread in, then took a bite.

You made a face then grabbed for your water, taking a big gulp to get rid of the taste. "I'm sorry, but what the hell is that?"

Matt chuckled. "It's beet hummus."

You heard him dip a piece of pita bread and take a bite. "Oh, yeah, no, that's definitely a failed experiment."

You shook your head. "Yeah, sorry, zero out of ten for that one."

Matt handed you another cracker before taking one for himself. "Let me go get rid of this and grab the next one."

He continued bringing out a variety of different dishes for you to try, including an arugula salad with heirloom tomatoes and goat cheese, a parsnip puree that he was considering as a side to the restaurant's steak options, and (your personal favorite) pesto-parmesan linguine.

"Oh my gosh, this is so good," you said as you ate the entire sample. "Eleven out of ten, definitely needs to go on the menu."

Matt chuckled. "Noted."

He stood. "Okay, time for dessert. Let me go finish getting it ready." 

You nodded. "Okay."

A few minutes later Matt returned and set what sounded like a small bowl in front of you before handing you a spoon.

You reached out and picked up what you realized was a ramekin, then inhaled the sweet aroma of caramelized sugar. "Mmm. It smells sweet."

You poked your spoon into it, the metal breaking through a solid crust into a custard-like concoction.

You took a bite, the flavors that were marrying on your tongue unlike anything else you had ever tasted. "Is this cremé bruleé?"

Matt hummed in the affirmative. "My own take on it, yes. Can you tell me what you taste?"

You nodded. "I can taste the caramelized sugar, of course, and a vanilla custard, but there's something else…" You took another bite. "It's definitely something citrusy… orange?"

"Yes, blood orange, to be exact." Matt guided your hand to a champagne flute. "I'm thinking about pairing it with a blood orange mimosa."

You took a sip of the mimosa. "Oh, wow."

"Good, huh?"

"Mmhmm." You took another bite of the cremé bruleé. "This is wonderful, Matt. It might even replace your tiramisu as my favorite dessert."

Matt huffed out a laugh. "Well damn, just when I thought I had someone to do a final taste-test of my tiramisu before I put it on the menu."

You shook your head. "Oh I'm definitely still willing to do that, this is just amazing too."

"Good, because I added a new ingredient and I want to see if it made a difference in the taste."

You smiled. "You know, you're spoiling me with all this gourmet food. Too bad I'd never be able to afford to hire you as my own private chef."

Matt huffed out a laugh. "Oh, I think we'd be able to come to some sort of… mutual agreement."

Your face heated. It was getting harder and harder to not misconstrue Matt's jokes as flirting, especially after Skyler had planted that seed of hope within you… and Kelsie a seed of doubt.

Matt stood. "You can go ahead and take the blindfold off, by the way. I'll be right back."

"Okay." You took the blindfold off, then blinked to clear your vision before looking over at Matt.

"Would you like something else to drink?" he asked. "Maybe some more champagne? No sense in letting the bottle go flat."

You nodded. "Sure."

You took a deep breath as he left to go to the kitchen. There was something about Matt that drew you to him (besides the fact that he was exactly your type), so you really hoped that he wouldn't wind up breaking your heart. 

Just a few more days, you thought to yourself. Just a few more days until my article is published, then I can see if this is real.

…Please let this be real.

Matt took a deep breath as he entered the kitchen. He felt an undeniable connection with you, one even stronger than the connection he'd had with -- 

He shook his head. He wasn't going to let her get into his head, not again.

He opened the refrigerator and took the tiramisu out. He was fairly certain that it was ready to be added to the menu based on his own taste-test as he was making it, but he really did want your opinion before making his final decision.

He plated a small piece for you then placed the rest back into the refrigerator before grabbing the bottle of champagne and another glass. Okay, here we go.

He headed back out to the dining area and set the plate of tiramisu on the table before pouring you each a glass of champagne. 

He sat and waited as you took a bite.

"Oh wow," you said, sounding surprised. "I don't know exactly what you added to this, but this is even better than the one you made the other day."

Matt grinned. "I added a splash of Frangelico to the espresso."

"It's delicious."

"So you think it's ready to be added to the menu?"

"Definitely, and please let me know when you do, because I'll be here right when you open so I can order both that and the pesto-parmesean linguine."

Matt chuckled. "I'll have it ready for you when you arrive."

You hummed. "Will you bring it out to me yourself so I can say hi?"

Matt nodded. "If you'd like."

"Yeah, I'd really like that -- if you'd have time and weren't busy, of course."

Matt shook his head. "I'd definitely make time for you."

He paused as your heartbeat picked up slightly. "Hey, um, can I ask you a question?"

You took a sip of champagne. "Sure," you replied.

Matt bit his lip. "I was wondering, um… what do you look like?"

"Oh," you said in slight surprise. "Oh, um…"

Matt quickly shook his head. "It's just… I have this blank picture of you in my head, so I've been curious, you know?"

You made a thoughtful sound. "That must be odd, not knowing what anyone looks like. Especially friends and loved ones."

Matt shrugged. "It can be, but I can at least imagine what people look like based on physical descriptions. And I can more accurately picture someone if I've touched them -- you know, if I've hugged them I can determine their body type or if I've felt their facial features I can put together an idea of their face shape."

You let out a light laugh. "I bet that makes dating interesting. 'Hi, yes, nice to meet you. Do you mind if I touch your face to make sure you're not hideous'?"

Matt chuckled. "I know it sounds cliché, but personality obviously really is the most important trait in a woman for me. The face touching usually comes later, although it's admittedly been a while since I've gotten to that stage. Kind of hard to meet someone I'm interested in when I'm always working." 

He paused and took a sip of his own glass of champagne. "What about you? Are you seeing anyone?"

"No, not at the moment," you replied. "Although the last woman I did a feature on kept trying to hook me up with her grandson."

Matt chuckled, relieved that he had been right in his assumption that you were currently single. "But you weren't interested?"

"Nah, he wasn't my type."

"Oh? And what is your type?" Hopefully dark-haired chefs. 

You hummed. "Honestly, just someone I can connect with, someone who understands me and is willing to put in the work to make a relationship equal. Someone I can build a life with, who I can trust and who will trust me in return."

Matt nodded. "Yeah, I get that."

You cleared your throat. "So about what I look like -- well…"

Matt listened intently, putting together a mental picture of you based on your description and the few hugs you had shared.

"So," you concluded, "did I describe myself well enough for you to picture me? Because I, um, I wouldn't mind if you wanted to feel my face too. You know, for accuracy."

Matt's eyebrows raised in surprise. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah, it's fine."

Matt nodded. "Okay then. Um, I'll have to get really close to you so I can reach you."

He heard you get up and move your chair over. "Like this?"

Matt brushed his hand along your shoulder, judging the distance. "Yeah, that's good."

He swallowed, suddenly feeling nervous. "Ready?"

"Mmhmm."

Matt reached out once again, his hand bumping into your nose. "Shit, I'm so sorry, I --"

"Oh, no, no, it's okay," you replied. "I'm fine, I promise."

Matt shook his head. "Do you mind if I…" 

He waved vaguely up at his glasses. "If I can at least see your silhouette I can better judge exactly how far you are from me."

"Oh, no, go ahead."

Matt took his glasses off and set them onto the table. 

"You, um, you have very pretty eyes, by the way," you said somewhat shyly.

Matt couldn't help but smile. "Thanks. I bet yours are very pretty too." Just like the rest of you.

He reached out once again. "May I?"

You made a sound of affirmation. "Yeah, go ahead."

Matt tentatively traced his fingertips across your hairline, raising his other hand as well once he was sure he wasn't going to accidentally knock you in the face again.

He began to build a mental picture of you as he traced along your forehead, down your temples and across your eyes, down the bridge of your nose and across your cheeks down to your chin.

I was right, he thought as he brushed his thumb across your lips. "You're beautiful. "

You sucked in a quiet gasp of breath.

Matt's eyes flicked down towards your mouth. It would be so easy to kiss you, to taste the champagne on your lips.

He leaned in to close the gap, your name a whisper in the air.

"Hey, Matt, I saw the lights were on and --"

Suddenly you jumped back as Foggy entered the dining area from the kitchen.

Foggy froze. "I'm -- I am so sorry, I'm clearly interrupting something, I'll just go --"

"No!" you exclaimed. "Um, no, I was -- I was just leaving."

You grabbed your phone and bag. "Um, thanks for dinner, Matt. I'll let you know if I have any other questions for my article."

Matt sighed as you hurried towards the seating area. Shit. "Here, I'll let you out."

He put his glasses back on and followed you to the door, unlocking then opening it for you. "Thanks again for coming tonight."

"Sure. I'll talk to you later, okay?"

Matt nodded. "Okay."

He locked the door behind you and turned back towards Foggy, who was fidgeting nervously.

"Shit, I am so sorry, Matt," Foggy said. "I figured you were working on perfecting those new recipes for the menu, I had no idea you were on a --"

Matt shook his head. "No, no it's -- it's fine. That was -- that was nothing."

Foggy let out an awkward chuckle. "That didn't look like 'nothing' to me, that looked like you were about to get your mack on."

"No, we were just --" Matt let out a frustrated growl. "Just drop it, okay? It's not like it would've worked out anyway." 

"And why not?"

"Because she's -- because it just wouldn't, okay?"

Foggy let out a groan. "You know, you're a damn good chef but you're absolutely terrible when it comes to love."

Matt snorted. "Says the man who's been single since Marci dumped you back in culinary school."

"Uh-huh. This is not about me, Matt, this is about you . I know Elektra screwed you over but that doesn't mean that every woman who also happens to be a journalist will." Foggy's demeanor softened. "Come on, Matty, admit it. You've got feelings for her, don't you?"

Matt sighed. He could hear your nervous heartbeat fading away the further you got from the restaurant. "Yeah, I do. I really, really like her, Fog." 

Foggy let out a delighted gasp. "I knew it!"

Matt shook his head. "I thought she felt the same way about me, but obviously I was wrong. I mean, you saw how fast she ran out of here after I tried to kiss her."

Foggy hissed in a breath. "Again, I'm really sorry about interrupting that, dude."

Matt shook his head. "It's okay, you didn't know she was even here."

He moved your chair back to its rightful place, his stomach twisting at the memory of how quickly you had lunged away from him. 

He sighed. "Come on, since you're here you can at least taste everything then help me clean up."

The 'You Really Think I Don't Know What You're Thinking Right Now' look....

Andrew Garfield on Tonys After Party.

Nathan Lane get right when he says "I love a man in a velvet suit"...

There are days and nights, hours and minutes, seconds and moments when I miss my parents so very very much. That love. That bond. That understanding. That comfort. That touch from the heart.

ANDREW GARFIELD

and his agent at Frieze London last week.

(source)