#ficthots

You were amazed that you had made it back to the house at all that night. Given that some of the team were still out and about celebrating their win. Matt had wandered into the ensuite just minutes before, giving you plenty of time to prepare. 

Prepare what exactly? Your celebratory activity for him. 

Wearing only a Panthers jersey, and only the jersey, you laid across the king mattress, waiting for your spouse to come and find you.

The feelings you had been experiencing all evening were practically indescribable. Truly, is there anything better than watching your favorite person in the world fulfill all of his lifelong dreams right before your very eyes?

Standing to the side as he embraced his brother, sister, mom, and dad, your eyes were rimmed with unshed happy tears. When his gaze finally set on you, you watched the pure unfiltered joy emanating from him. He had you wrapped up in his arms and placed the most knee weakening, heart pounding, clit throbbing kiss on you that you had ever experienced. 

He was gone in the blink of an eye, pulled away to celebrate this moment with his teammates. You watched on, cheering the entire time, feeling as though the wind had been knocked out of you.

Now, he was finally all yours once more. With the light turning off behind him, he halted in his tipsy steps to see you. His jaw flexed, eyes growing instantly darker. “So, what does a girl have to do around here to sleep with a Stanley Cup champ?” 

He slowly stalked towards the bed, shirt already discarded, only wearing his tight boxer briefs which did little to hide the raging hard on he was sporting. His movements were excruciating, simply burning to feel his touch on you, anywhere. 

Hovering over you, arms braced on either side of your body, the loose jersey sitting high on your thighs, his eyes raked over your figure. He hummed, a deep low rumble from deep within his chest. Your breathing was already growing ragged, short, anticipation building as his brows furrowed. 

Fingers grabbing the fabric on you, lifting it ever so slightly from your body, he let it fall back without exposing you. “What do you want, baby? Hmm?” Your lips darted out, moistening your lips quickly.

“You.”

His deep blue eyes locked onto yours, lowering his head to seal himself to you. It was sweet, gentle, the exact opposite of what you were expecting. Parting your lips, your tongue slowly moved from your mouth to his, sweeping seductively over his own. The taste of beer and liquor still heavily covered him. 

A whimper escaped your throat as your slow makeout session slowly built in pressure. His roaming hands left your waist before tangling themselves in your hair. Sitting up to reach him further, your hands landed on his chiseled torso, rock hard beneath the warm embrace of you. 

Speaking through kisses, his voice was ragged and desperate. “Take it off for me, baby, please. I need to see you, mama.” His fingers gripped the hem, helping you deposit the discarded jersey to a heap on the floor. 

Laying flat on the bed below, his eyes bounced around, not sure where they needed to land. It took every ounce of strength he had to stand up and watch you. “Spread your legs,” you didn’t hesitate. Knees parting, your dripping core was on display for him.

Knowing what to do next, your fingers sat on your tongue for a few seconds, moving lower. You jumped in surprise at the electric shock that jolted through you when the pads of your fingers reached your clit. 

An unfiltered moan slipped from you, watching as Matty shook his head. “Be quiet. We have a house full of family that could hear every single little noise you make. Does that turn you on? You fucking slut,” his own hand dipped into his briefs, slowly starting to stroke himself. 

You bit your tongue, rubbing slow circles on your nub, slipping further down to plunge a finger into your soaking cunt. A gasp escaped, but you swallowed it down. Matthew had never seen such an angelic site before. 

There you were, on display for him, playing with yourself. Your hair splayed around you in a near perfect halo. His wife. His real prize. Although, he had to admit, bringing that Stanley Cup home was a damn close second. 

“Matty, honey, please.” He loved hearing your needy voice beg. Begging for him to fuck you senseless. He was holding off as much as he could. He had finally removed that last layer of his clothing, squeezing his dick to dribble out even more precum to assist with his jerking.

His teeth sank into his lip, finally pouncing on you. It was messy and disgusting, the exchange of saliva between you two. Dripping from your chin, clawing at his back to attempt to bring him as physically close as possible. 

Yet, the tip of his cock rubbed against you, refusing to enter where you needed him most. Panting together, his fingers tweaked your perked nipples, mouth enclosing around you, nearly taking your entire breast. Your head flew back, eyes squeezed shut, his hand clamped over your mouth to keep your noises at bay. 

Lips landed on your tits, sternum, the soft flesh of your stomach, before his mouth closed around your nub. “Baby, I want,” you were struggling to get your words out between the lapping at your slit and the harsh sucking of your clit. His meaty fingers sank into you, two at a time, and began pumping.

He kissed the inside of your thigh, your knee, speaking in a teasing way. “What’s that, mama? What do you want?” His shit eating smirk lit you up in flames, locking eyes as he ravished your cunt. “Use your words,” he nearly sang to you. 

“I wanna suck you off,” he continued for another minute or so, entirely ignoring your request. Finally, he removed himself from you, inching towards you, his swollen cock aching for attention.

You didn’t wait, enveloping him into your warm and welcoming mouth. His eyes instantly fluttered shut, hand grabbing a fist full of hair as he began face fucking you. “Take it, baby. Take it all for me,” you greedily accepted. You had him fully in you, the tip of your nose brushing against his well maintained hair. 

It went on like this for what felt like seconds only before he pulled back, gasping for air. “No, I can’t cum in your mouth. Need your pussy.” In the brief moment when you caught your breath and let your eyes slip shut, he had moved and was sinking deep into you. 

“God fucking dammit,” he hissed, knowing he wasn’t going to be able to last too long tonight. “Fuck me, Matty. Show me how a champion would pound this pussy.” It was like lighting a fire from within, he began fucking you senselessly. 

You had never cum so much in your life. It felt like the entire time was spent enveloped in the most wonderful orgasm you had ever experienced. Knowing the dirty words leaving his mouth was no aid to you. Being completely wrapped up in him was always the best thing in the world, Matty filling all of your senses.

There was nowhere else you would rather be. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Exclaiming as he emptied himself into you. He was shaky, arms no longer able to hold himself up, he collapsed onto you. Your hands traced lazy circles on his back, fingers dancing along his scalp. You peppered kisses all over him, wherever you could reach.

“I’m so proud of you, baby.” You whispered to him in the darkness, he snuggled closer to you, breathing you in. Grounding him back to reality, knowing that as of tonight his life was no longer the same. 

Matthew Tkacuck was a Stanley Cup champion. But he knew that he held his prize every night when he slept. He was only able to murmur out a I love you so fucking much before the snores echoed into the room.

Take your childhood best friend Jake for example. The man thrives on the attention when it settles to him. Putting his best self forward when in the presence of other people Yet, he still utterly despises ninety-nine percent of the general population. It’s why you two got along so well. 

Also why you and his twin did not. 

Your strengths? Well, they lie in solo activities. Anything that needs to be completed alone, you thrived in. Preferring not to work with others unless you absolutely had to. Even then, you weren’t going to be happy doing it. An intellectual, not an artistic bone in your body. Not understanding how he and his brothers can create literal magic in their minds and then go and perform for thousands of people. 

Not being a people person was one of the main key characteristics of your personality. You had your small inner circle and that was more than enough for you. Even better that they spent most of their time away from you touring. 

If you were together all the time, it would make the time spent together less exciting. Less meaningful. Sure, some people would say it was you being shy and to yourself, but you knew that wasn’t really it. 

Okay, maybe just a bit.

Who could blame you though? Being in the public eye like your closest friends sounded like a nightmare. Not being able to keep any information about your private life hidden because it seemed as though someone was always watching. It sounded like hell. It was hell.

That was the life of being a celebrity though. Which is also why you strayed as far away from it as possible. Even when you went out to lunch with Jake when he was in town, it was not a rare occurrence for him to be stopped on the street for a picture or something of the like. Keeping your distance and watching from over his shoulder some few yards away was where you were most comfortable in situations like that.

He would then come back to you, exasperated because of the constant stopping for fans. Jake wasn’t as annoyed with it as he let on to believe, secretly loving when he was approached by adoring fans showering him in praise. It always earned an eye roll from you. Such an attention whore.

Just not to the extent of his twin. Josh craved it. There was hardly ever a time when he wasn’t ecstatic to discuss the intense life he led on a daily basis of being adored by fans and the like. Not to mention the annoying personality trait of needing to be best friends with any individual he was an acquaintance with.

His pursuit of reaching that level with you had been nonstop since high school when you and Jake had hit it off. It was thoroughly exhausting fighting the man as often as you had to, but it was the only way to get him to leave you alone.

He loved it. Finding it hysterical how truly annoyed you were by his sheer presence. Honestly, he wasn’t entirely aware of the actual reason why you didn’t want to be around him. He would be lying if he said he hadn’t lost sleep over it more than once. 

Thinking it was just a silly game, not comprehending that you truly wanted nothing to do with him. It was frustrating. Dealing with this since high school and you truly believed he knew the main reason why, but opted to ignore it for the sake of not self reflecting. Jake on the other hand, similar to his familiar counterpart, could always guarantee a chuckle from your interactions.

Never getting into full arguments, but you had been known to raise your voice at him on a few occasions when he refused to leave your personal bubble. It was borderline anxiety inducing. Always having a few Xanax on hand for when you knew you would be having to spend more time than necessary with the boy.

Like on vacation. 

Jake had invited you as soon as they had decided where they were going to be taking a weekend trip to. Given you had never been to Las Vegas, you thought it was going to be an absolute blast. Staying at an incredible resort, relaxing by the pool, occasional gambling whilst enjoying the complimentary drinks. I mean, in what world would someone turn that down? 

You seriously considered it once you heard that Josh was going to be in attendance. Being trapped on a plane with him, having to do every vacation activity together, getting little to no break from the 24/7 Josh show. Way to ruin a trip.

Given how desperately you did need this getaway, biting your tongue and accepting the fact that the thorn in your side was going to be even closer than normal was what you were just going to have to deal with despite the bile burning the back of your throat at just the thought of it. 

Knowing that you would at least have the reprieve of the flight out to Nevada was adding a little bounce to your step. Until he plopped himself down in the seat directly next to yours with a loud sigh echoing in the shell of your ear. Without a moment of hesitation you placed your earphones in, not wanting to give him a chance to engage, or attempt to engage, in conversation with you. 

It didn’t last long. He grabbed the left one from your ear much to your dismay, giving a large grin. “Everyone got to pick one activity for the weekend. What’s yours?” Snatching the item from his fingertips and placing it back where it should’ve been the entire time, you sighed. 

“Pool morning.” His eyes lit up, going to speak again, but luckily the flight attendants began their aisle explanation of rules and regulations. Smirking at the interruption, you let your head recline back onto the ridiculously uncomfortable headrest, your eyes slipped shut. 

You couldn’t be one hundred percent certain of how long your eyes were closed, but it felt like two minutes later when he nudged you to gather your attention on him. A large exhale left your nose, still trying to ignore him. It only worked for so long until he began incessantly tapping your shoulder.

“What? What? What could you possibly want right now, Joshua?” You snapped, staring him dead in the eyes, but he wasn’t phased in the least by your outburst. Holding up a ziplock bag to you, he offered another large smirk. “Trail Mix?” 

Josh had set himself a personal goal for the trip. By the time the wheels were up on the way home, you two were going to be fast friends. Deciding on that after having a group dinner together one night and you did everything in your power to avoid him. Whilst he and Jake chatted in his kitchen he racked his brain at the possibilities.

“Can I ask you a question?” Jake hummed in response, eyes stuck to his screen. “Why does buzz not like me?” Jake’s eyes briefly glanced at his spitting image and sighed. “Because you’re you.” Josh let the words simmer for just a brief moment. 

Before giving a response, Jake continued. “It’s just a lot for her to handle. You’re on constantly and it drives her up the wall. You know how she is. More reserved than any of us and you're just elevated by ten.” Josh’s brow furrowed, leaning against the counter, shaking his head.

“Yeah no, I don’t think that’s it.” Jake’s hands shot up, deserting his task of trying to get Josh to understand why his best friend did not adore his twin like every other individual under the sun. He was going to get her to be friends, even if it was the last thing he did.

A blinding migraine is what woke you up. That and the feeling of someone's arm wrapped around your bare waist. 

Blinking your eyes open slowly, you could feel whoever was next to you, breathing deep and even into the crook of your neck. The disheveled hair was tickling your cheek and jaw, hand twitching every so often as he slept. 

When he began to feel you stirring, he himself was slow to get up as well. Having no clue if this person was a complete stranger or if you happened to know them pretty well, had you beyond nervous to turn around and look. 

Then it hit you. Patchouli. 

Eyes blowing wide open, you turned your head to see him in the same position as you. Wide eyed, shock, and confusion painted across his face. Entirely sure he was mirroring your expression as well.

Neither of you said a word to one another as you laid there. Eventually, you pulled your gaze away from him and chose to stare at the ceiling instead. “Buzz?” He finally broke the uncomfortable silence drenching the room. 

Making the wrong decision to shake your head, you groaned, stilling your skull and attempting to stop the room from spinning further than it already was. “No, no. Don’t say a word.” You seethed out between gritted teeth.

He took in a sharp breath, fingers laced soundly over his comforter covered torso. His phone vibrated on the nightstand and when he grabbed it, he only showed you the message from Sam. They were all downstairs waiting on you both to join them for breakfast. 

Silently getting dressed, you stepped out of the restroom to see Josh waiting patiently for you. “We do not speak a word of this. To anyone. You understand me?” His lips were pulled between his teeth, but he nodded at you. “Of course, absolutely.” 

As you two took your seats at the table, all eyes were glued to you both. Trying to play it off, you pointed to the pitcher of orange juice sitting on the other end of the table by Josh. He handed it off to you, but everyone's attention had yet to leave you both. 

Finally giving in, you stared down Jake. “What? What’s wrong?” His chin rested on the backs of his hands, a small knowing smirk gracing his lips, sunglasses blocking his hungover eyes. “Are we going to talk about what happened last night?” 

Shrugging, your brow furrowed at his words. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. What happened?” Sam snorted, sipping his coffee before responding. “Josh invited us all to watch,” your head snapped to the boy next to you, shooting daggers at him.

“You fucking pervert,” Josh’s cheeks burned crimson red at the response bit out at him. Danny finally spoke up through a bite of toast. “Like we weren’t going to watch our best friends get married.” 

You perked up in his direction, looking at the paired off couples seated around the table. “Oh my god, who got married?” Josh was excited to hear the news himself. Jita’s confused gaze met your enthused one as she spoke. 

“Uh, you two?” Eyes falling down to the table, you and Josh gasped at the same time, the memory slamming into you. Your hands covered your mouth as it hung wide open, staring at the man in pure shock. Slowly shaking your head, you stuttered over your words. “No-no, ther-there’s no way.” 

Josh’s head fell back, swallowing thickly as his brothers erupted in laughter around the table. “How did they let that happen when we were so drunk?” You whispered out, staring at Jake for answers. He shrugged, “That’s the way most people get married, buzz.” 

Letting your head fall into your hands, Josh finally spoke. “It’s fine, we’ll get it annulled and it’ll be like nothing even happened.” Nodding at his words, you shoved his phone into his hands from the resting place it had been on the table. “Now. Do it now.”

Standing from the table, he excused himself as he dialed his lawyer's number. Deciding that it was probably best to check your own phone for any inkling as to what had gone on the previous night, you checked what was buried in your purse. The screen was continuously lighting up with notifications from Instagram, Twitter, any and all social media known to man. 

“Oh-oh my god,” you breathed out. Slowly lifting your head and looking at the youngest brother, you calmly asked him a question. “Samuel?” He huffed in response, spreading jam onto his toast. “Did you post the wedding on your Instagram last night?” Dropping his butter knife to the table with a loud clink echoing, everyone immediately took to Instagram. 

A chorus of  oh no’s, fuck’s, and holy shits were spoken by all of the table. Josh sat back in his seat and turned towards you. “There’s a problem,” you nodded, eyes never leaving Sam. “Oh, trust me, we’re well aware.” He breathed out a sigh of relief. 

“Oh great, I don’t have to be the one to tell you.” Sam bit into a piece of muffin, shooting you a wink. “Happy honeymoon!” His attempt to release the tension that hung heavy on the group did not work as he had hoped. 

The remainder of the trip you spent as much time away from Josh as possible, absolutely mortified about the circumstances and what had gone on. The only interaction you had with him was right after brunch when he told you his lawyer was working on it and he had made their manager aware of what was going on.

Otherwise, you had kept your distance like Josh was a plague. It hadn’t been too bad afterwards. You spent the rest of the time relaxing by the pool, enjoying great food, and before you knew it you were on the flight back home. 

To face reality. 

As you walked to your car, his voice echoed through the parking garage to gather your attention. Only stopping because you had to, you turned to face him and saw him jogging towards you. “So, uh, my lawyer wants to meet with us tomorrow morning. Manager will be there, too.” 

Nodding in agreement, you didn’t say anything else as you loaded your luggage into your car and then yourself. He didn’t try to speak more, knowing how truly furious you were with him for this.  

Knowing that this now being public information was going to make the situation that much worse to deal with. Not like it would have been if this was a normal person, no, you had to deal with the ramifications of being black out drunk and marrying a celebrity. 

Awesome. 

When you arrived at his home the next morning, you let yourself in, seeing a man dressed in a suit standing in his living room and the man you knew as their manager quietly chit chatting with Josh. He only offered a nervous, sheepish smile to you as you walked in and sat on his sofa.

“Alright, so what do we need to do? Sign some papers?” You spoke out first, grabbing a pen from your purse and looking at everyone expectantly. They were all nervous and you couldn’t figure out why.

The boy's manager cleared his throat and called you by your name, but you shook your head, offering your nickname instead. No one ever used your legal name, it was odd to even hear it spoken out. “Buzz, then. So, unfortunately, this is going to be a bit more,” he paused, trying to find the magic word, "more complicated than we originally assumed.”

Not responding, you only blinked slowly at him. Acknowledging the lawyer to step forward and speak, your head inclined towards him. “The annulment itself is not what complicates matters. It should only be a few months until everything is squared away based on the legal proceedings. What does make things sticky is the social aspect of this.” 

His hands waved to you both, but you refused to look at Josh. He could feel your energy humming with pure anger at what was being said to you. His manager spoke up once more. “Yes, so, Sam posting this definitely made it more difficult. In order for you both to get out of this as unscathed as possible, we all discussed the options.” 

Your face contorted in confusion. “Excuse me?” Everyone’s eyes settled on you. “I was not consulted for any of this. So when you say we all discussed the options, no we didn’t.” Josh’s wide eyed gaze looked at the two men standing, blankly staring at you. 

Jaw setting in annoyance, you spoke again. “I don’t understand how there can be options in the first place. We get it annulled and call it a day. Wipe our hands of it. That’s the option here.” Josh cleared his throat, turning to face you from his seat. 

“Buzz, listen. It affects our image. It’s one thing to actually be married, but for us to have gotten drunk in Vegas and then got married, and within seventy-two hours to get it annulled. That’s so bad,” you scoffed at him, but before you could speak they all chimed in. 

“It puts a very bad image on Josh. We’re just trying to get damage control done right now. All we’re suggesting is that for the next few months, until the annulment is officially granted, you two continue to put on a facade of sorts to the public that you two are actually together.” 

Unbelievable. 

“And what about me?” You breathed out, staring at these men like the fucking vultures they were. His manager shrugged with a laugh. “You get to date Josh Kiszka for a few months. This will boost your image too!” 

Standing up from your seat, you exploded on them. “Well, I’m not fucking dating Josh Kiszka! This is the problem with you, Josh! It’s all about you and your image. Doesn’t matter who else's life you screw up along the way as long as your image remains clean. Go fuck yourself. Let me know when I need to sign the papers.” 

Storming out of his house, when you got to your car, you sat there in silence, trying to catch your breath. A scream left your throat as you continuously hit your steering wheel over and over. Admittedly, you had done some incredibly stupid things in your time, but nothing to this magnitude. No, this was truly life altering stupidity that put you here.

And you did it with the worst human imaginable. You hated yourself for letting this happen. This wasn’t like you. Getting married on a bender in Vegas? Nope. Bets were always going to be on Sam to do something like this. You? Not in a million years. With Josh? Not even in the realm of possibilities. 

Yet, here you were. 

Sitting in your apartment, you drowned your sorrows in a pint of Ben and Jerry’s ice cream, watching Bridgerton as you sobbed about the utter mess you were in. Josh had been blowing up your phone all day, honestly you were surprised he hadn’t shown up at your door.

Ah, spoke too soon, you thought as a rumbling of knuckles on your front door drew your attention. Sniffling, you wiped your face with a stray tissue, praying it wasn’t too dirty, before walking to the door. 

“I’m not in the mood right now, Josh.” Sighing as you took in the sight of who was at your door, you were overjoyed to see someone else standing there. “Well, damn good thing I’m not him then, huh?” You didn’t hesitate, throwing yourself into Jake’s embrace, continuously sobbing into his shirt. 

His hands rubbed your back with a sad sigh, leading you back in towards your sofa. Sniffling as he grabbed a tissue, he wiped your tear stained cheeks that were positively swollen from the day spent in absolute waterworks. “What’s up, buzz?”

Your hands hit your thighs in exasperation, shrugging as more tears welled up. “They told me I have to date Josh until the annulment is done. I don’t want to do that, Jake.” Chin wobbling, he wiped at your falling tears again, nodding in understandment. 

“I’m so stupid! How did this even happen?” He handed you the box of tissues before speaking. “First of all, you’re not stupid. You were drunk beyond belief, we all were. Second, who said you have to date Josh?” Eyes staring at the crumpled fabric in your hands, the sadness that sat on your shoulders sank further in. 

“Your manager. The lawyer. Josh. They said it was to protect his image. That a drunk Vegas wedding doesn’t look good as is and then getting it annulled or having the paperwork filed a few days after is even worse. Like, they didn’t even consider me!” Your body shook harder as more tears fell, sobs escaping your throat as you laid on Jake.

A deep sigh rumbled in his chest, hand smoothing your hair down. “You’re gonna hate my response then.” Pulling back from his embrace, you shot daggers at him. “You want me to do it, too? Seriously, Jake? You know why I don’t want to be associated with him. I’m not doing it!”

His hands went up in defeat, but raked through his hair as he watched you move to the kitchen then back to the room in a nervous pace. “Buzz, listen. It’s not just Josh that’s affected. Honestly, if it was I would 100% be on your side and let you do what you wanted to do. I’m worried about you,” your brow furrowed at his words. 

“Being associated with someone like us is not easy. You should see the toll it takes on Jita sometimes. It’s rough and brutal,” you cut him off, his words only aiding your reasoning. “Exactly! That’s one of the main reasons,” he didn’t let you continue, speaking over you and grabbing your hands to bring you back to sit with him.

His thumbs brushed over the skin on your wrist. “It’ll be so much worse if the annulment news gets out this quickly after what happened. Buzz, your life will be decimated. It will be horrible. It will affect your daily life, your work, everything. I want you to do this so that way it’s more sound when it does happen. Otherwise,” he shook his head as he trailed off.

With a groan, you flung yourself back onto the couch. You had never hated life more than you did right then. Grabbing your cell phone, you sent Josh a message only sending a Fine, as Jake patted your leg. “Good girl.” You kicked him in response. 

A carefully drawn plan was created by everyone. Keeping public appearances at a minimum, their manager stated that only a few were necessary in the amount of time needed for it to be legally done. However, what was necessary was social media posts. 

Since your…wedding, had been so publicly broadcasted, making an appearance on his social media whether by posts or stories was absolutely necessary according to them. The goal was to keep actual posts minimal, but stories more often. Which also meant that you and Josh were going to have to be spending more time together than you ever had before.

You were dreading it to put it lightly. In fact, you only wanted to crawl under your bed and hide for the rest of eternity. All you could think about was why this had to happen with him. Why not Danny? You loved Danny! Sweetest human being known to man. 

Instead, you were legally bound to the person you despise most. Why must the universe laugh in your face like this? You believed you were a fairly decent person, so why you? It was that question that was on an ever repeat in your mind as you sat at a restaurant you couldn’t even afford to look through the window at. 

The two of you were sitting in dreadfully uncomfortable silence. A fake engagement ring sitting on your left hand, a band on his. Waiter already having come and taken both of your orders, you didn’t know what else to do at the moment. Nibbling on a skinny breadstick, your eyes scanned the scenery around you. 

People that would never give you the time of day if they were to spot you on the street filled the tables around you both. Occasional glances from the younger crowd falling over you two made you shift in your seat. 

Taking notice of wandering eyes himself, he reached his hand out across the linen covered table, grabbing your hand with his. Speaking through a smile, your look of disgust made him laugh. “Can you at least try and make it look like we’re having fun? We’re married and people are looking, buzz.” 

Forcing a grin onto your face, you squeezed his fingers, a hiss escaping from his teeth as he pulled his hand back. “You’re right, I am having fun!” Rolling his eyes, he expelled air from his ballooned cheeks. 

“So what do you do for work, again?” He asked. You stared him down, opinion of him sinking further. “I’m an archivist. Do you know what that is?” Your smug tone had his face falling, mocking you. “Yes, I know what an archivist is. Asshole,” he mumbled, playing with the straw in his drink. 

Sighing, he leaned back in his seat, eyeing you from across the table. “What’s your deal with me? Why don’t you like me? Everyone likes me. I’m Josh!” Elbows landing on the table with a clatter of plates and glasses, you began listing the reasons on your fingers. 

“You’re selfish, snobby, too energetic, think you’re better than everyone else, an attention whore,” he cut you off, arms crossing over his chest. “Alright, alright, alright. I get it. But I’ll have you know I’m not any of those things.” 

Your eyebrows shot up your face. “Really?” He nodded, a smirk tugging at his full lips. “Of course! There’s so much more to me.” Snorting, you pointed at the table. “If you’re not a snob or selfish then why would you bring me here? I don’t even like fish! I’m allergic to shellfish. I literally ordered the only thing that didn’t contain any fish. A fucking salad, Josh. I don’t like salad.” 

Continuing with your rant, he listened to every word you said. “Not to mention that a place like this,” you waved your hands around, “is the last place I would ever want to come to. I’m more of a Chili’s girl,” his nose scrunched up in disgust. “You see! This isn’t going to work, Josh.” Catching your head in your hand, he tried to ease your spiraling mind. 

“Okay, okay. I promise that next time we will go somewhere you want. I just figured that this was a good spot to get noticed and that is working. Three different people have taken pictures which I am almost 100% certain are already circling Twitter.” Your face showed your confusion because you hadn’t noticed that at all. 

“I promise, next time, we will go somewhere or do something you want. Scouts honor,” he held his hand up in the salute, earning a tired laugh from you. “Ah, see! We’re already making progress. You laughed at my joke.” 

Smile falling, the waiter appeared with your food right then. “Actually, I was laughing at you. Not at your joke.” He shrugged, digging into the salmon on his plate. “Still counts.” 

Awkward small talk consumed the remainder of the evening. Walking to your own car that had been parked a few blocks away from the restaurant, Josh stood behind you, ensuring you got to your car safely. 

Not offering a parting word, you got in your car, but Josh tapped on your window, a smile on his lips. Rolling it down, but only a crack, you tilted your head towards it. “What?” He placed a sloppy kiss on the glass, much to your dismay, but laughed right after.

“I had a great time with you, buzz. Make sure you’re at my home this weekend to make an appearance in a social media story!” He called out as you reversed out of your spot, driving off with your middle finger extended in his direction.

You weren’t a firm believer in the idea about people changing. People are the way they are, especially once in adulthood. The way someone acts by the time they’re in their early twenties, in your experience anyways, was how the person was meant to be. Which is why you were entirely confused about why Josh was growing on you. 

After spending more than a few evenings at his home to appear in his stories or Instagram posts, even making it into a TikTok, you were growing more comfortable around him. Even opting to hang out without the need for posting purposes. You hadn’t even given a second thought to why you were okay with it.

It honestly started after your suggested publicity date. After having a night out at a fancy dinner, you decided to do something a tad more laid back for your date choice. However, when you realized that they wanted you to be seen out in public together, it dawned on you what to do.

The boys were still on tour, so like any normal “girlfriend” or “wife”, you flew out to spend some real good quality time with your partner. He even went the extra mile to pick you up from the airport. Your decision to keep him in the dark of what your planned outing entailed was driving him insane. 

It is also why he was standing in the happiest place on earth with the largest scowl on his face you had ever seen. With your Minnie Mouse ears adorned, Mickey Mouse t-shirt, and Nuimo sticking out of your cross body bag, you were beaming from ear to ear. Walking up to Josh, you stood directly in front of him, placing a pair of ears on the frowning boy. 

“No, no. Absolutely not.” Giggles fell from your parted lips as he took them off with a loud sigh. “Okay, Mr. Grumpy, what would you like to do first? Space Mountain or Autopia? I think we should do Autopia because it’s a car perfect for your frame and one you might actually be able to reach the pedals in.” 

He mocked a fake laugh, walking in the direction of Space Mountain. Josh could try all he wanted to feign irritation with where you two had landed for your date, but by mid-afternoon, he was smiling more often than not. 

Even indulging in a churro although it was against his dietary restrictions. You two were sitting in New Orleans Square, splitting a box of popcorn, giving your feet a rest after the incredibly long day, but your mood and spirits had never been so high around him before.

Laughter and smiles had been a regular throughout the course of the day, nearly riding every ride you could. Josh was grinning like a child after having indulged himself all day. “I can’t believe you actually bought the picture from Splash Mountain. It’s so dumb!” You spoke through laughs. 

Whipping the picture out, you were cowering over, blocking yourself from the water, face contorted in fear while Josh had both hands up, the biggest smile you’d ever seen as he yelled out in excitement. As he put more popcorn in his mouth, his eyes narrowed at you. 

“Why’d you pick here?” Smirking, you sipped from your novelty alien sipper cup. “For starters, I knew you’d be pissed when we walked in.” He shrugged in agreement, a light tint falling on his cheeks. “But I also knew that you would warm up after a few rides and snacks. Almost everyone does. And I picked somewhere where I knew we would be spotted.”

Sliding your phone across the tabletop, a photo of you and Josh on the teacups was circling the Twittersphere. “I think I’m starting to get the celebrity appearance thing.” Taking a bite of your salty treat, Josh eyed you in surprise.

“Well, look at you.” His gaze settles on you for just a beat too long, causing you to fidget in your seat. Looking back at your phone to get away from the uncomfortable feeling worming its way in your stomach, you spoke out. “C’mon, we have a lighting lane for Indiana Jones.”

Josh stared after you as you stood and began walking in the direction of the ride. His plan was working.

It was pissing you off to no end. You didn’t want to like Josh or be friends with him. Not since his fuck up in high school that was the root cause of all of this. So why was he growing on you? 

Refusing to fall for the sweet Josh act, which you were beginning to doubt was an act at all, after your Disney day, you decided to keep contact and visits extremely limited. Only showing up at his home to appear in a quick story and then immediately leaving. Josh wasn’t a fan of this sudden change either. 

Becoming downtrodden each time you rushed to leave his home after making brief appearances. Keeping conversations to a minimum. When you received a text from Josh saying one of your final dates was ready to take place, you were dreading spending an evening with him. Not excited about the confusing feelings that were happening.

Yet, here you were at a concert for the boys. Given you were as good of friends with Jake as you were, most people figured that you were constantly at concerts. Not really. Actually, you had only really seen them perform a handful of times. Now that you and Josh were married? 

Of course the perfect opportunity for a sighting was going to be at a concert, supporting your fake spouse. Okay, not entirely fake because the marriage itself was technically real, but whatever. Standing off to the side of the stage, you smiled warmly at them putting their best efforts into their show. 

It was hard not to notice the wandering eyes of fans falling to you and realization dawning on the crowd who you really were. Animosity towards you hadn’t been too much to deal with. Sure, there were people who truly didn’t comprehend how you and Josh were together. There had never been a mention of you before, Jake working overtime to ensure that through your friendship, and now all of a sudden this random woman is married to Josh?

Bonkers.

As their encore wrapped up, once Jake stepped off stage, you jumped in excitement, offering your happy praises of how well the show had gone tonight. Walking off with Jake, you halted as their manager’s wide eyes observed you, subtly nodding his head in the direction of who you should have been walking with.

Jake offered you a knowing smile, continuing towards his dressing room as you waited for Josh. As his curly hair bounced towards you, you offered a large smile. He knew what he was doing as an arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you towards him and connecting your lips.

You froze, not expecting him to do something like that. As he retreated, his arm never left you, a smile still adorned as he turned you around and walked you towards his own room. Skin positively on fire from the encounter, your stomach was a chaotic mess of nerves. 

Sitting in the general waiting area for Josh to finish getting ready to head to the hotel, you were literally sitting on the edge of your seat. You weren’t stupid, you knew why Josh kissed you right in the viewline of hundreds of fans. So, why was your mind running about the passion behind it? And why did you like it?

His curly due popped out of his door, a big grin greeting you as his wet hair dripped down his temples. “Ready to go?” Nodding with no verbal response, his hand linked with yours, escorting you down the tunnel. Your eyes were glued to the faux wedding rings adorning your hands.

Some fans waved you off in the private cars that headed in the direction of the hotel. Not muttering a word, Josh could sense the vibe was just ever so slightly different than normal. He knew you weren’t upset, but you weren’t exactly dripping with excitement either. Nervous? 

It remained silent in the elevator ride up to the floor of your rooms. When he walked to his door, he finally made eye contact with you for the first time all evening. “Do you want to come inside and talk for a bit?” 

Your wavering voice would give away your endless thoughts, so you just bob your head in agreement, stepping into the suite before him. Sitting on the overly large sofa for one person, Josh immediately knew something was different when you didn’t give a snide remark about that. 

Finally sitting next to you, he handed you a drink from the bar. “Alright, what the hell is wrong with you? This is the longest you’ve ever been silent around me.” Sighing, you battled how to word this, but Josh beat you to it. “Was it the kiss? I’m sorry I should’ve asked you beforehand, but so many people were around I thought it was what I should do.” 

Shaking your head, you felt heat creep up your neck. “No, no it’s fine. I agree, it was what should have been done. It’s just,” trailing off, his eyebrows furrowed. “It’s just what?” Deciding against telling him how you truly felt about it, you changed conversation tracks. 

“Just that it was a lot of fun seeing you guys perform. Makes me realize who I’m actually married to.” He bought it. Immediately smiling brightly at your words, he relaxed into the stiff couch. “I can’t get over that. We’re married.” You both chuckled, eyes going to the wedding rings you wore. 

“Do you remember the night at all?” He questioned, seeing if you had any recollection of how it came to be. Eyes going to the ceiling, you laughed as you tried to replay the fuzzy night. “I remember laughing. A lot. It was at one of those twenty-four hour chapels on the Strip. Jake was your best man, Jita was my maid of honor. Jake signed as our witness. Sam recorded the whole thing on Instagram.”

You two were erupting in laughter at the sheer stupidity of the situation. “You wanted to consummate the marriage right there in the chapel on the pew.” Josh laughed into his glass. Your jaw opened in shock, refuting the claim. “I did not!” Josh’s eyebrows raised as he recalled it. “Oh yes you did.”

Sitting there and staring into his eyes as his laughter died down, you gave a shrug. “Okay. So, what if I did? Would you have taken me right there?” He didn’t hesitate, not an inkling of nerves as his response came quickly. 

“I would’ve taken you right there if we had been alone.” Swallowing thickly, in the blink of an eye Josh had ended up on top of you. Teeth hitting in a messy, hurried encounter. His tongue trying to explore every inch he could.

It moved so quickly you weren’t sure how you had ended up entirely nude in his bedroom. On your knees and hands, Josh pounding into you from behind. Hitting so deep inside of you that you were certain you were going to split in two. 

Your moans were borderline murderous screams. Body being moved forward which each meet of his hips to your ass. The sounds ridiculously lude as your soaked bodies continued to join over and over. 

As his cum painted your back and ass, you felt like you had run a marathon. His fingers still lightly tracing circles over your throbbing clit, instead of stopping all at once, easing you out of the pleasure that wracked your body.

Limbs turning to immediate jelly, you weren’t sure how you ended up in the shower together, going for another round. Fairly certain your body would never be able to recover again. Yet here you were, accepting him again with pleads. Years of pent up aggression with one another colliding. 

Heavenly. 

Well, that complicated it a bit more. What the hell was the matter with you? It was Josh for god’s sake! All you needed to do was show up for the concert, hang out with him for a few minutes, then go to your own room, and fly home the next afternoon. You couldn’t even do that right.

Because you were currently entangled in bedsheets with the boy, limbs intertwined, and you didn’t want to move. He was just so warm and soft, comfortable beyond belief. The gentle rise and fall of his chest nearly eases you back to sleep. 

It was only a couple minutes later when he stirred awake, humming in content at you still being there. Arms tightening their grip on you. His deep, husky morning voice broke the gentle air, erupting your skin in goosebumps. “Morning,” his lips landed on the crown of your bedhead, trailing down to your cheek, then neck.

Easy was one way to describe it. The head of his cock breaching your entrance slowly and deeply. Lifting your leg as you remained on your side, Josh right behind you. His fingers danced on your clit, and in no time at all, you two fell apart. 

Wanting to return back to the safe slumber of your life, he refused. As your eyes slid shut, they shot back open as his tongue traced your leaking hole. It was going to be a long morning. Which you didn’t really mind. 

Letting Josh take you to brunch probably wasn’t the best move, but you couldn’t bring it in yourself to come up with a phony excuse as to why you couldn’t. You wanted to spend some time with him, it wasn’t a crime or anything. If anything, it only strengthened the PR relationship you were putting up! 

Oh, shut up.

Even when you got home, you found yourself looking forward to hearing from Josh. He didn’t understand what the change had been or when it had actually happened, but he wasn’t complaining. If anything, he was celebrating it. You were no longer doing everything in your power to avoid him, but instead were actually reaching out to see when you could see him again.

This was the literal best case scenario for him. His yearning for you over the years had only grown stronger through all of this and what had been a silly crush on his brother's best friend was blossoming into an actual romance.

Still, you were hiding your reasoning for seeing him behind the PR aspect of this arrangement, but the more you presented it and accepted when he did, the more hopeful he was becoming. It might be silly wishes, but after having harbored these feelings for you for as long as he had been, getting this close was playing with fire.

Did anyone have any idea about this infatuation? Not in the slightest. Josh knew he had done a wonderful job of keeping it at bay. Perhaps it came off as an elementary level crush where he teased you relentlessly, but he seriously had little to no game and that was how he knew to get your attention.

Some fine tuning was most definitely needed, he would admit that. 

Did the teasing that Josh relentlessly tormented you with sear into your memory and want you to second guess what you were doing? Absolutely. In fact, one night in particular would always stick out to you. A junior year pool party where Josh announced to the entire party during a truth or dare session that you had never slept with a boy let alone kissed a boy, mortified you. 

You could remember the shocked faces of your friends who had all recently gone on sexual journeys that school year and were no longer at your clumsy virgin level anymore. Only having told Jake in confidence, you were horrified to discover that Josh had obtained that information and that he thought it would gain some laughter and bump him up in popularity to divulge it.

He had regretted it immediately after it left his mouth. Your vision of him forever tainted. Of course, you would never admit that was the line he had crossed, instead picking other things about him that annoyed you. Josh knew the real reason. 

So, where did that leave you both? Sitting in Josh’s living room about to sign your annulment paperwork after four months of fake dating. He had called you that afternoon at work and said his lawyer had dropped them off and all that was needed was a signature from you both. 

Holding the pen to paper you signed your name, handing it over to Josh and seeing him do the same. Letting out a shaky laugh with a puff of air, you eyed him. “Okay, well that nightmare is now over.” He chuckled with you, hands rubbing nervously over the tops of his thighs. 

“I am sorry about all of this.” You finally broke the tension by saying. Josh knew what you meant. This had been your idea. The entire thing. Having made a bet with Jake that if you could win on a $200 bet in one go at a blackjack table, he owed you $5,000. Being as inebriated as he was, he hastily agreed. Yet, when he asked what would happen if you lost it left you fumbling for an answer. Something worth at least that monetary value, you reached your decision quickly. 

“I’ll marry Josh tonight.” Everyone hooted and hollered, watching you place your bet and of course, losing on the spot. Josh immediately invited everyone to come to the chapel with you both, saying he couldn’t imagine marrying you without his family there. One Instagram livestream and twenty some odd stories later, you two were hitched. 

He shrugged with a chuckle thinking back to it. “It’s a funny story we will always look back on and laugh about.” Agreeing with him and not sure what your next move was, you rose from his sofa, heading toward the front door when your name echoed in the large room.

Turning, you saw Josh cross to get to you. Colliding together, your purse fell to the floor, wrapping your arms around his neck as he crushed you to him. “Don’t go.” He spoke out. You nodded eagerly, bringing him back to you. 

“I like you. A lot.” He spoke out in between kisses. Only a muffled mhm and me too escaped your throat before Josh led you to his room. 

It was like answering a craving that your body was shaking to get its fill on. Like a drug you had never experienced before. Needing him in you more than the air you breathed. Filling the void that only Josh could fill.

Only Josh. That was all your mind could think of. Could handle. Even as he eyed you, laying nude in his sheets, he riddled every thought. 

“Can I take you out?” You laughed, seeing him eyeing you from above you. “I’m serious! I know we kind of did this backwards, but I really do like you. I want to take you out. For real.” Narrowing your eyes at him, you grabbed his chin in your fingertips. “Promise you won’t marry me this time?” He nodded, looking at you like you were crazy.

The loft had four of you in it. You, Noah, Logan, and Peter. Your roommates. The people you spent the most time with. Who saw you at your best and worst. They were who you ate dinner with almost every night, fought over bathroom schedules with, and who you complained to about the shitty coworkers you had to deal with.

Logan was who you had known the longest. You two had met in college. Your first encounter with him was finding him sitting naked on your roommates bed, screaming as you walked in instead of her. He claimed that she had said she was going to be back at the dorm within a few minutes, but had yet to return. It was supposed to be a sexy surprise, but turned into a traumatizing experience for the both of you.  

When they stopped seeing each other, you two kept in touch. Late night study sessions, lunch in the student union, and more parties than you cared to admit you had attended were all filled with Logan by your side. He moved away the last year of school to play AAA baseball, but an injury halted that track and sent him home, effectively ending his playing career.

He had his own friend group that he hung around, the other boys you lived with, but you didn’t know that much about them at the time, and you had Lily.

You and Lily had grown up with each other and spent more time together than apart. Were you two complete opposites? Absolutely. Lily was a professional model who had moved to New York way before you to pursue her passion and it had paid off. She lived with other models in a tiny apartment, but she loved it and you loved it for her. However, when you became homeless because of your ex you knew that moving in with her wasn’t an option.

Steven was your ex who you had lived with for nearly three years. He cheated on you, quite literally leaving you on the curb and you turned to Logan. The fourth bedroom in his apartment had just recently opened and they hadn’t found another renter yet. You entered their lives and had been there ever since.

You grew closer with Logan when you moved in and became quick friends with Noah. He was the most “adult” out of all of you. He had a great job that made him decent money, had a new car, and was overall doing fairly well for himself. Apart from the living with three other people thing.

The first night you all shared dinner together, the week after you had moved in, you all joked around the table, trying to get to know them all better, Lily joining as she had been helping you move. “So, Noah, do you have a boyfriend?” Logan choked on his beer at the question, doubling over in laughter and collapsing from his chair as Noah’s large eyes widened even further at you.

“Wha-what? You, you think I’m gay? Why would you think I’m gay?” He stuttered over his words as Logan wiped the tears from his eyes, Peter snickering behind his beer bottle as embarrassment coursed through you.

“Jesus, I am so sorry. You’re just so put together, you know? I don’t think I’ve ever seen a straight man's bedroom look as clean and as planned out as yours. Plus, you wear a lot of cardigans. You have more bathroom products than the rest of us put together. It just seemed to fit,” you shrugged as Logan climbed back into his chair and Noah scoffed at you.

He stabbed his chicken with his fork and laughed as he spoke. “I appreciate you noticing all of those things, but just because I am more put together than all of you hooligans combined does not mean I am a homosexual,” you shot a look to Logan, silently seeing if he agreed with you. He nodded his head in response, letting you know that he in fact thought the same when he first met him.

Lily spoke up in your defense. “I read the listing for the apartment on Craig’s List and I thought it was for an apartment with all girls. You wrote it, right, Noah?” His utensils fell to the plate in a clatter as he folded his hands on the table. “What made you think that? Was it the use of actual educated vocabulary?” She shrugged as he continued on.

“Also, have you not seen the amount of women that come in and out of my room?” You shook your head, trying not to laugh as he dove in to his graphic tales of sexual encounters with said women. Peter practically ignored the rest of the conversation, being the first to leave the table that night as everyone shared funny stories.

Noah’s room, you would come to learn, was an ever revolving door. When you went to the bar that Logan worked at you saw his demeanor with them and most of the time he didn’t even use a real name.

The first time you heard his alter ego's name, Richard Hurtz, you actually cringed. The boys thought it was hysterical and clever, Peter throwing in a comment about you not understanding it, but you got it. You flat out told them, Dick Hurtz, was just not funny. You got called stupid in return.

That was Peter. Oh, Peter. You didn’t know what his deal was, but when you two were introduced at your apartment interview, he was immediately put off by you. You had tried every trick in the book to get him to talk to you, but no matter what you did it was a wasted effort.

His room was directly across from yours, meaning that encountering each other was going to happen quite a bit and you wanted to be cordial. Hell, even friends. One night you found yourself alone in the apartment with him and you tried getting him to eat dinner with you, but he turned you down, locking himself in his room instead.

You begged Lily for advice on the phone, practically in tears because you just didn’t understand why he didn’t like you. She had told you that he was just an asshole, but you didn’t believe that.

The look he had given you when you had met was one you hadn’t seen directed at you before. You thought you were a fairly friendly person. It was rare to have someone not like you and it made you uneasy when someone didn’t. Especially when that person was who you were going to be living with.

Over time he spoke to you a bit more and kept the looks to himself, but the snide and snarky comments did not stop. You assumed it was because Lily had cornered him in the bar one night and threatened him to be nice to you or she’d kill him. Eventually you ended up confronting him about his utter disdain for you and he didn’t seem taken aback by the question at all.

“Have I done something to offend you?” He eyed you as you stared at him from the dining room table, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge. “I can tell that I have done something to upset you and keep you from talking to me and whatever I did I am truly sorry. I’m not used to people not liking me and honestly it makes me want to throw up every time I’m around you because I want to be friends with you,” you rambled as he watched you, but he finally cut you off.

“I didn’t want you to move in. I didn’t want a girl in the apartment. I liked the way it was before you moved in,” you chewed on your lip as he spoke, but broke into a big grin at the end. “Hey, there’s no reason for you to have to act any differently around me! Just treat me like one of the guys,” you awkwardly tried to lean back in the chair, tucking one hand into your pants and sipping the beer that had been sitting out on the table for god knows how long. You gagged, making a face as the liquid went down your throat.

“Good lord, how old is that?” You just wanted him to like you. He shook his head, sighing as he walked out of the room and you groaned, letting your head rest against the table top. You really did try everything you could, even reading one of his old college textbooks from his room to try and understand what he was talking about when he spoke about work.

He worked at Oscorpe and according to Noah and Logan, was a borderline genius. You figured that if you attempted to build a relationship with him in regards to his interests he would love it!

It didn’t impress him. Instead only earning a narrowed eye stare and silence in return as you tried to make small talk about an “article” you had read earlier that week from the Times. Really, all you did was a quick google search on science stories and memorized the title.

It was finally your chance as you two were alone in the loft, he was parked on the couch watching tv and you approached quietly, not wanting to frighten him off. You sat in silence for a bit before you shakily spoke up, clearing your throat to signal that you were going to speak. “Did you see that article about how some scientists restored organ function to pigs after they died?”

You flipped through a magazine, as nonchalantly as possible as he sat at the other end of the sofa, watching the news about Spider-Man. His head turned towards you and gave you that look and offered no response as you tried to drag any conversation with him out. You didn’t look up from the magazine in your hands as you spoke again, “Pretty crazy, huh?”

He sighed, turning the volume up on the tv as you abandoned that method. You decided to talk to him about Spider-Man. Everyone knows about Spider-Man and you even had a personal encounter with him. “He saved me once,” you mentioned as you watched the news. His jaw set tightly as you said that. Peter offered no suggestion to continue with the story, but you did anyway.

“Yeah, he saved me from a burning building. The dorm I lived in. Some idiot was cooking with a hotplate and it caught fire. I was asleep with my headphones on and didn’t hear the smoke detectors. He got me out of the building. He was a really cool guy and offered me some tips on safety like not sleeping with noise cancelling headphones on,” you chuckled at the memory, feeling so stupid about the circumstances.

Peter’s gaze bore into you as you spoke and for a split second you swore you saw his lip quirk a tiny bit at your tale. “I always like seeing him in the news. Means he’s still helping people. Hopefully, I will not need his assistance again,” you met his eyes and he looked away, attention going back to the tv.

“Knowing you, you probably will.” You wanted to scream and jump as you got him to actually respond to you. No matter how cool you tried to play it, the smile that spread over your face couldn’t be hidden.

It was rare to have a private moment at home because someone was always there. Always. That’s why as you ended the awkward first date you had been on with some guy a girl at work had set you up with, you were actually grateful that they were home.

He was the most bland person you had ever spoken with before. You couldn’t even remember his name, it had been that bad. He spoke like a robot and his most enthralling story of the night had been about how at work last week he made a rubber band ball. He wasn’t the type you would normally go for, but hey a free meal is a free meal. Now you regretted it as you approached your door, positively drained from the evening.

The young man quickly dropped you off and made his departure as you walked in the front door, throwing your purse on the entryway table. The guys all sat on the sofa, watching football as you walked towards them, taking your corner spot with a loud sigh.

“Date didn’t go well?” You took the beer offered to you from Logan’s outstretched hand. “Nope. I watched ice melt to keep myself entertained. Food was shit too,” you reached forward and grabbed the bag of chips from the coffee table. You looked around to see where the beer had come from and Logan pointed to the floor.

“Cooler. Now we don’t have to get up,” you nodded your head and leaned back against the couch and chuckled. “Nice,” you stuffed a handful of chips into your mouth as Noah spoke up.

He shrugged as he scrolled on his phone. “You need to stop dating and just do what I do. Makes it so much easier,” you contemplated his words and nudged him with your foot. “I haven’t had sex in three months. You think you could help me find someone to hook up with?”

The guys all collectively groaned at your announcement, but he nodded his head. “You need a casual hook-up. Logan works tomorrow night at the bar. When you’re off work, meet us there and I’ll help you,” Logan’s attention never left the TV as a team scored, he cheered as he checked the sheets of paper in front of him, marking things down.

Logan ruffled your hair and you slapped his hand away as Peter stood from the couch. “I can’t wait to see this. You have the worst personality for casual flings,” he stretched as he walked to his room. His shirt slowly rode up and offered a quick glance at his abs, arms flexing below the fabric of his sweater.

How the hell was he so built? He works in a lab and you had never seen him workout before. You snapped out of your thoughts when Logan and Noah shouted again, jumping up from the couch as one team stole the ball from their competitor. “That wasn’t very nice,” you said as you sipped your beer and Noah laughed, shaking his head at you.

“I needed that for my fantasy team,” Logan murmured as he opened his phone.

You sat at the bar, sipping on a Long Island Iced Tea as Logan and Noah scouted the room for you. Lily sat beside you, acting as your hype girl for the night. Your eyes widened at the incredibly attractive man that entered the building. “What about tall, dark, and handsome over there? Mama needs a piece of that,” a chorus of ew’s echoed from the boys as Logan shook his head.

Lily nodded hers and smiled. “Hell yes. He would be perfect,” Logan gave an overexaggerated shutter. “Don’t talk like that. It’s so gross,” you straightened your dress hem as you stood up, ignoring his words.

You wore one of your favorites tonight and you thought you looked pretty good. “Okay, I’m going. I can totally do this,” you were trying to hype yourself up as Peter rolled his eyes at you. Lily pinched his arm and he leaned away from her, hissing in pain, rubbing the spot.

“Just don’t be yourself and you should be fine,” you shot him a mean glance, but took his words more literally than he probably meant. Don’t be yourself and you should be fine. Don’t be yourself.

As you sauntered over to the other end of the bar the man smiled. You took the seat next to him, trying to be alluring and mysterious, but saw Noah shake his head and mouth, “Change your face!” Lily chewed on her lip, whispering with them as they all watched.

You quickly shook whatever look off that he had pointed out and the man spoke up. “Can I get you something to drink, gorgeous?” You fluttered your eyelashes at his question. “Sure, thank you. I’ll take a vodka cran. Light cran,” you thought of the girliest drink you could and that was what came to mind first. You decided to roll with your plan.

Don’t be yourself. “I’m Jonathan. What’s your name, beautiful?” You shook his outstretched hand gently. You needed this. Something different. No strings attached.

His smirk grew as you offered a fake name, sipping the drink that Logan had placed in front of you. You two chatted for a while quickly realizing you two had nothing in common. This was good! It was exactly what you needed.

He had leaned into you more as you two continued chatting, hand landing on your knee as he whispered to you. “Wanna get out of here? We can go back to my place?” You bit your lip, nodding as you stood with him, letting him lead you out of the bar.

You shot a glance over your shoulder and saw the group shoot you a thumbs up, cheering you on. Peter sat with a grimace on his face that you ignored. Nothing new with him.

When you got to Jonathan’s place things escalated quickly. You two were in a messy kiss that you were not enjoying as he took your bottom lip between his teeth.

“Um, ow. Sorry, can you not do that?” You laughed, trying to keep it light as he nodded, leading you to his room. Most of your clothing was forgotten as he started to attempt to rub you. That should’ve been your warning sign, but you kept it going, silently hoping it would get better.

It didn’t. The rest of the experience was a horrible let down. He obviously did not know about female anatomy because he never found what he was looking for and given you didn’t know this man you didn’t offer assistance. His dirty talk mostly consisted of asking if you felt good.

When it was finished you climbed off of his lap and sat on the bed next to him. A large smile took over his face as you wrapped yourself in the top sheet from his bed. “Wow. That was amazing,” he kissed your cheek as you only nodded your head in response.

Within minutes he was snoring. You quickly gathered your clothes and got dressed, making your way back to the apartment. When you got home you sighed into the quiet space and went straight to your room.

You fought within yourself, feeling incredibly dirty and just wanting to wash off the night from you, but so frustrated with how the evening's events played out that climbing straight into bed sounded like heaven. Everyone's doors were shut, no lights peering from underneath as you made your way to the shared bathroom.

You felt grimy and began scrubbing yourself, using the removable showerhead to get your back. You didn’t mean for it to happen, but when you felt the water pulse against you an involuntary moan slipped out. It was well past one in the morning. Who would know?

You let the water push against your throbbing clit, breaths going shallow and feeling yourself warm up. The pleasure was building now in your belly, but you were teetering on the edge, not able to fully fall over it. Your mind began to wander and you thought back to the events of the other night.

Seeing his shirt expose his toned and ripped torso, the hidden muscles on his arms flex as he stretched. His head rolling to the side showcasing his incredible jaw line that had light stubble growing on it that you imagined scratching your inner thighs. His large hands wander over your body, kneading at your flesh.

As you were about to finish, the coil in you about to snap, you heard the bathroom door shut. Your eyes snapped open, your orgasm long forgotten as you mustered up the courage to poke your head out of the curtain. No one was in there, thank god, but you weren’t sure how loud you had been.

You felt shameful that you had let your mind think to one of your roommates in order to cum. What the hell was wrong with you?

You wrapped up your shower and wandered back to your room when you saw it. The light streamed out from underneath Peter’s door, but turned off as you walked by. Your face burned at the idea that he had heard you.

There was no possibility he had known you were thinking of him, but it felt horrible knowing you had used your mind to get off on the thought of him.

You got to your room and softly shut the door. Maybe he didn’t hear anything. Maybe he opened the door, heard the shower was on, and left. The chance of that being true was little, but you clung to that thought. It was what helped you fall asleep, pissed that you had been robbed of an orgasm twice that night.

The next morning you gave yourself a pep talk to go into the kitchen, ready to face whatever was waiting for you. A breath of relief escaped you as you discovered the living quarters empty.

As you poured yourself a bowl of cereal, reveling in the rare silence that hardly ever came across the apartment, you heard feet shuffling. Bringing the spoon to your mouth, you tried not to let any attention fall to the boy who had entered the room.

He made no effort to chat so there was a chance that you had been worrying for nothing. There was a chance it wasn’t even him who came to the bathroom last night. Peter probably didn’t hear anything.

The sound of your spoon hitting the bowl and his movements around the kitchen as he made a smoothie echoed off the walls, filling the uncomfortable silence that settled over you two whenever you seemed to find yourselves alone together.

A glass was placed in front of you, a light pink liquid filling it half full. “I made too much,” your eyes widened in surprise as he walked out of the room, sipping his own.

“Thank you!” You called out after him, but he stopped and turned on his heel. “By the way, if you’re going to masturbate in shared spaces, keep it down so you don’t disturb the entire loft,” your jaw fell slack at his words, speechless as he turned and continued his walk to his room, a laugh falling from him as he did.

The group all cackled as you sat at the bar, sharing the story of your failed one night stand from the previous week. “He fell asleep how fast?” Your face burned at Noah’s question, playing with the napkin that sat under your drink. “Within like five minutes of completion,” Logan gagged at your response.

“God, don’t call it that. You’re gonna ruin sex for me. It’s like hearing my grandmother talk about it,” an exasperated sigh left you, lightly bouncing in your seat. “Guys, please help me! I just want good, no strings attached sex,” Peter snorted into his beer, leaving his spot at the bar and saying goodnight to everyone as his phone went off.

Was that a news alert? What normal guy had news alerts on his phone? Lily snapped you out of your thoughts, asking you questions about what else you were looking for instead.

Noah scouted the room and pointed at a man by the jukebox. “He’ll do. Go,” before you could protest, he shoved you off the stool.

The night ended worse than the week before. He finished within three minutes and you left as soon as the opportunity presented itself.

You prayed the apartment would be quiet with everyone asleep as you shut the door behind you. The TV’s noise indicated that your prayers had been left unanswered. Even worse, it was Peter on the couch occupying the space.

He eyed you as he sipped his beer. “You’re home early.” It was meant more as an out loud observation rather than a segway for conversation, but this was your chance and the most he had ever offered you.

“In the last week I’ve had two awful sexual encounters. I’m giving up,” you sat on the opposite end of the couch, following your patterns from the last time this happened, not wanting to spook him. You just wanted this to go on a bit longer.

He only shrugged as he nursed the beer, but you continued talking, nerves wracking you as you spoke to him. “I guess sex just isn’t great for girls. Like when I was with Steven, I mean he loved it, but I never climaxed. Every hook-up since has just been a let down,” Peter’s eyes widened at you.

“You’ve never finished with a guy before?” You shook your head as his eyes nearly bugged out at you. “No. I know I can finish cause I mean I can do it myself,” your cheeks burned as you rambled on, feeling awkward talking about this, especially with Peter.

“Sorry, I ramble when I’m nervous. This is the longest we’ve ever talked and it’s about my sexual blunders. I will actually keep talking if you do not stop me. Do you always make girls finish? Noah brags all the time about it. Guys always do though like this guy I went to highschool with. I was at a party and he asked me if he could finger me and I punched him for asking. Another time in college I heard some girls talking about fisting and when I looked it up online I almost passed out. There was this one-,” Peter finally cut you off, putting both his hands up watching you.

“Please just stop talking for two seconds. You ask questions then leave no space for responses,” you leaned back on the cushion and groaned. “And yes. Most guys do so either you’re doing something wrong or they are,” his words played around in your head.

What if he was right? What if you were the issue? How the hell could you fix this? You wanted to be able to have good sex and for once have an orgasm, but if you were doing something wrong how would you know? Your head slowly turned to Peter, reaching your decision at lightning speed.

“Have sex with me,” he choked on his beer, a coughing fit following as the words settled over him. “What the hell? Absolutely not,” you moved closer to him on the couch. “Please? Peter, it would help me so much! You would be able to tell me what I’m doing wrong and coach me through it. Plus, you’d be getting sex for it. Obviously, we wouldn’t tell anyone. We aren’t that close so it wouldn’t be too weird. I mean it’s not like me sleeping with Logan, you know what I mean?” he was shaking his head as you continued on.

“No. That would only make things weird. I’m not your sex coach,” your bottom lip pushed out as you gave the best puppy dog look you could. You clasped your hands together in a begging motion as you moved even closer, thighs brushing one another.

“Just think about it. You don’t have to give me an answer right now. Think about it,” You didn’t wait to see his reaction, going towards the restroom to shower off another failed night.

You didn’t see Peter all of the following week. He was ignoring you of course. Each day that passed was a painful reminder of what you had asked him to do. You still thought it was a good idea.

You and Peter were not close. Having sex would be like having sex with a stranger. A stranger you lived across the hall from, but it would be fine. You would be able to continue on with life afterwards like nothing happened and hopefully have better sex thereafter.

That was what you kept telling to yourself to make you feel better about asking that of him.

It was late on a Friday and you had the loft to yourself. Noah was out with some girl, Lily was busy, and Logan had a closing shift at the bar. Having the TV free meant a Twilight marathon and you were so happy.

Rain lightly fell outside, the room was chilly as you sprawled out on the couch, a thick blanket over you. You had no idea who’s sweatshirt you were wearing, but it was cozy and kept you warm.

Peter’s door flew open and revealed a dripping wet boy. You paused the TV as his gaze fell on you. You awkwardly smiled and waved at him, but confusion etched across your face as you took him in.

“Why are you wet?” His wide eyes looked frantic as he tried to respond to you. You knew it. What little, tiny progress you had made with him was gone because of your ask of him. He was nervous to be around you!

“I just showered,” he responded as he walked to the kitchen. Your brows furrowed. You didn’t hear the shower running, but discarded your follow up question as he walked past where you sat, looking for a matching sock.

You gently took his hand in yours and his head snapped to you. “Have you thought about what I asked?” He sighed at your question. He removed his hand from yours like he had been burned. You watched him close it into a tight fist. You let your hand go to your chest, worried that you had hurt him in some way.

“Yes and the answer is still no.” Your smile fell and you sat up, discarding your blanket and facing him. His eyes fell to the sweatshirt you were wearing and he pointed at it. “That’s mine,” you looked down and started issuing apologies as you went to remove it.

“Oh, I’m sorry. It was on the back of the couch and I got cold. Noah doesn’t let me run the heater,” you chuckled, but his hand landed on yours, stilling your movements. “It’s fine.” You thanked him, but you had questions gnawing at you about why he wouldn’t sleep with you.

“Peter. Why won’t you sleep with me? Is it because I’m not your type? Or am I not pretty or something?” A bewildered look took over his face at your questions.

“No, no. It’s not that. You’re very pretty,” your heart skipped a beat at his words. Peter thought you were pretty. “I just don’t want things weird around here,” you waved him off, pulling him onto the couch with you, but he put distance between you both as he sat.

“Don’t worry about that! I promise it won’t be weird. It won’t,” he shook his head at your words. So, you went to the last resort.

He sighed, rubbing his eyes as a chorus of pleases and pretty pleases flowed from you. It went on this way for a minute as he turned and eyed you and in the blink of an eye, Peter’s lips collided with yours. His hands enclosed around yours that sat on the tops of your thighs.

The shock faded from you as your eyes slipped shut, returning the kiss. Peter broke off and his eyes scanned your face. “One time. I will sleep with you one time. It will be tomorrow at one when everyone is asleep. It will happen in your bedroom. No one knows, especially Lily. This stays between us, do you understand?”

You nodded your head quickly, feeling butterflies erupt in your stomach. He got up from the couch, going to his room. Your breathing was ragged and uneven as you tried to calm down. What the hell did you just do?

You were going to sleep with Peter Parker.

The following day you didn’t see Peter once. He was gone before you woke up and not home when you got back from work. The work day had been entirely pointless, your mind only able to think about your arrangement for later that evening.

You were going to give Peter a chance to back out. A nagging feeling was pushing into your thoughts that you had pressured him into this. What was this going to do to your relationship? Honestly, it couldn’t go further south than it already was.

You stood in front of your floor length mirror, your robe opened at the front, looking at your bra and panties. The light green material with floral embellishments suited your skin. The cups were mesh, showcasing your entire breast. The thong matched, leaving nothing to the imagination. It was your favorite set you had.

When a light knock on your door shook you from your thoughts, you quickly closed the robe and went to answer it. Peter stepped in after you and you both stood there, looking at one another before you spoke.

“Listen, Peter, if you don’t want to do this, I completely understand. I don’t want you to feel like I pressured you or anything,” a smirk took over his lips as you spoke. “I said I’d help so I’m gonna help,” you lightly nodded as he stepped closer to you, hand going to your jaw.

You giggled and pulled away. “I’m so nervous. Just-uh, tell me something about yourself. Like a fun fact or something to help me,” he rolled his eyes as he crossed his arms over his chest. “Like what?” You shrugged, bouncing from one foot to the other, hands playing together as you sighed.

“I don’t know. Anything,” He narrowed his eyes and looked at you. “I’ve lived in New York my entire life,” surprise took over you at the fact. “Oh my gosh, really? You seem like the type of person who’s lived in New York his whole life, but I didn’t want to assume. What was high school like?”

He shrugged and sat on the bed. “It was good. I went to a science high school so I was destined for the science path,” you moved closer to him, standing between his legs as he talked. “You seem like it. Really smart I mean,” you spoke quieter as he looked up at you, hands moving to your waist as you pushed the hair out of his face.

It was softer than you imagined. His thumbs swept across your hip bone as he gave a soft smile. “You have a really pretty smile,” you chuckled as your hand went lower, lightly cupping his jaw. His smile grew slightly larger as yours beamed at him. You bent down just slightly, Peter almost your height even sitting and connected your lips together.

The kiss was gentle at first, exploring one another in a way you hadn’t before. You two kissed for awhile before Peter broke away and his honey eyes swept over you. You hadn’t seen them this close before and they were gorgeous, unbelievably easy to get lost in for hours. “I’m gonna kiss you again and take your robe off, okay?”

His breath fanned over your face as he whispered to you. He connected you both together, lips dancing as you both started breathing heavier. One of his hands left your hip, pulling at the silk tie of your robe. You let it fall off your shoulders and Peter pulled back as he eyed you, brows furrowing.

“You bought lingerie for this?” You shook your head, moving your hands to tangle in his locks as his eyes scanned over your near naked frame. “No, this is just my bra and panties. I have a bunch like this,” his eyes closed and he chuckled as he pulled you to him.

“Of course you do,” his lips landed on yours again as your arms wrapped around his neck. He tasted so good, you didn’t want to stop as his tongue explored your mouth, small whimpers leaving you at the feeling. Your hands moved to the bottom of his t-shirt, pulling it up and discarding it in the room.

Peter pulled back, lips swollen and glistening. “Okay, so kissing isn’t the problem,” he chuckled breathlessly as you peered down at him, relief evident at his revelation. He nudged you gently towards the bed and you laid down, Peter following and putting his weight on you.

“Let’s just let this naturally progress so I can see what you do, okay?” You agreed as you laid back and his lips attacked your skin. His hands brushed across your chest, a gasp leaving you as his finger pinched your puckered nipple through the thin fabric.

“There’s condoms on the nightstand,” you mumbled as he kissed your neck. He pulled away and stopped, seeing your confused look. “We’re not even close to that,” your confusion only ran deeper as Peter stared down at you.

“I have to get you ready first. Has a guy ever warmed you up before he just fucked you?” You felt embarrassed by his question. Too mortified to respond, you just shook your head, hiding behind your hands.

He gently removed them from your face. “Hey, don’t hide from me. It’s not your fault. That’s their job, not yours. I need you to tell me how this normally goes for you. What have you done?” You shrugged thinking back to your past sexual experiences.

“They normally kiss me for a bit, throw a condom on, put me on top, and that’s about it. Oh, I’ve also given blowjobs. Not many, but a few. That’s about it,” Peter’s jaw fell open and he grew almost angry as you explained.

“Have you ever been on bottom?” You shook your head, a small no following. “Have you ever been given oral?” You offered the same response as before. “Have you ever been fingered?” You laughed, trying to lighten the mood. “I’ve done it to myself, but never by someone else. Last week the guy spent most of the time rubbing my left lip and I just wanted it to be over so I didn’t say anything,” Peter’s eyes shut as he calmed himself down at your words.

“Jesus christ. Alright, I’m gonna fix this,” before you could respond his lips were back on your neck. A sigh fell from you at the feeling, but you tried to hold it in, Peter reluctantly pulled away, eyeing you. “Don’t hold back for me. I need to hear you,” you nodded at him as he bent back down, lips attaching to your nipple over the mesh of your bra, a nervous laugh escaping at his words that faded into a moan.

Your breath stuttered at the feeling, his hand working your other breast. His hands went behind your back, unhooking the bra and removing it. He went back to work as your breathing grew ragged. His fingers brushed down your torso and paused at the top of your panties. He gently let his fingertips skip over your core.

“Fuck, you’re soaked,” he groaned as he felt you. “M’sorry,” you mumbled as he chuckled. “Don’t apologize, that’s good, dove.” That name. You knew that name. Someone had called you that name before.

You didn’t have time to dwell on it because you felt his slender finger pull your panties to the side and run a single knuckle through your folds.

Your breath hitched as he moved from your chest to your cunt. His forearm landed on your lower stomach, locking you in place with an insane strength, forcing your legs to stay open for him. “You have the most beautiful pussy I’ve ever seen,” you giggled nervously as his fingers gathered your slick and landed in his mouth.

“Thank you,” his laugh made you jerk, his breath fanning across you. His tongue flattened and you jumped, eyes going wide at the new sensation. His grip didn’t let you get far, holding you to the bed. The singular flick of his tongue drove you wild, desperate for more.

Your panties slid down your hips, being discarded behind him as he kissed along the inside of your thighs, inching closer to you. When Peter attached his mouth to your core, you moaned, loud and deep.

Eyes squeezing shut and your body going rigid as he sucked your clit inbetween his teeth, tongue lapping at your hole. Whimpers and moans flitted from you, warmth radiating off of you in waves. You knew you were close and Peter moved you closer to your release as his finger slipped into you.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he murmered as he slowly thrusted his fingers into you. “Oh my god, Peter,” his eyes darkened as he looked up at you, gathering your gaze as you moaned his name.

He added another finger, moving quicker as you thrashed below him. “C’mon, dove. You’re close. Cum for me.” Almost on command you felt like the wind had been knocked out of you as you hit your high.

Stars filled your vision as Peter milked you through it. “There you go. Good girl,” he whispered as he removed his fingers, coming back up to you and meeting your lips again.

He reached for the nightstand and grabbed a condom. The trash discarded as your eyes traveled down as he removed his sweats, seeing how large he was. Your eyes slightly widened and he smiled at the reaction.

“Inflate my ego, please,” you rolled your eyes and as you went to retaliate, his head slipped in. “Shit,” he breathed out into your neck. As he slipped further in, the more noises came from you. “You fit me perfectly,” he laughed momentarily as you thanked him, begging him to move right after.

You couldn’t fight the smile that took over your face at Peter’s laugh. It was so nice and something you didn’t hear often. Forcing your heart to flutter at the noise, a special music that only played for those that earned it.

“You have a lovely laugh,” it was breathless and panted out between moans, but you wanted him to know. He peered down at you, sitting fully in you and he started moving, connecting your lips.

As he picked up his pace, hitting deeply inside you, your moans mixed together in his mouth. He lifted one leg, sitting it on his shoulder, hands moving to your hips as he thrust deeper into you.

“Dove, don’t flutter your walls like that. I won’t last,” he grunted out as your eyes rolled shut, head falling to the side. “Sorry,” he shook his head, placing a kiss to the side of your knee.

His thumb landed on your clit, rubbing fast circles that had you a mumbling, moaning mess. Tears fell from the corners of your eyes, feeling another orgasm quickly approaching.

“Peter, m’gonna cum,” he picked up his pace at your words, keeping the same force, thumb still working you. “Cum for me. I’m right there with you,” you released around him, gutting moans silenced as he kissed you, you involuntarily tightening around his dick as he came.

He slowed his thrusts to a stop as he released your leg from his grip, leaning down and kissing your collarbones, trying to catch your breath as he did. “Was that okay? Did I do good? I feel like I didn’t do much,” You were still fighting to catch your breath as you asked. His gaze caught yours and you watched something flicker through his eyes as you waited for him to say something. Confusion? Anger? Hurt?

It was gone as quick as it appeared, but he got dressed quickly, not saying another word as you slipped your robe back on. He left the room as you got up from the bed, awkwardly grabbing your discarded bra from the floor, scanning the space for your panties.

Mortification hit you like a truck. Was it really that bad? You thought it had been pretty good. Wonderful actually. It must not have been as good for him. You should’ve done more.

The door to your room opened and Peter came in with a glass of water, watching you as you made eye contact with him. He handed the cup to you and you quietly thanked him, sipping as Peter grabbed your free hand.

He pulled you to him and gently kissed your forehead. You stood there in shock at the intimate movement. “You are not the problem,” you blinked up at him, not knowing what to say as his thumb swept on your cheekbone before he pulled away, saying goodnight and leaving you standing there like a deer in headlights.

You looked around the room, continuing with your search to keep your mind off of what had just happened. You had sex with Peter and it had been great. He even thought so. You giggled, jumping with a whispered, “Yes!” following the movement, a huge smile taking over your features.

Now where the hell were your underwear?

You expected the next morning to be weird and uncomfortable, but it wasn’t. It was how it always was with Peter. He simply acted like you didn’t exist. Noah checked the time and whistled as you appeared in the kitchen.

“Looks like someone got laid last night.” You froze in your spot, stuttering as you looked at the boys around the island. “Wha-what?” Logan smiled as Peter stared you down from behind them.

“You’re literally glowing and floating into the room. You got some last night. Midnight mystery man knows how to do it,” a shaky breath released from you as you laughed, cheeks burning.

“Oh-oh. Yeah, I had a guy over last night. It was okay,” you shrugged as Peter set the milk down, eyes narrowing at you. Noah bit into his bagel, talking as he chewed. “Just okay?” You sipped your orange juice and smirked into the glass.

“I mean, I’ve had better,” Peter audibly laughed, causing all eyes to fall on him. “I doubt that,” your eyes widened at him. “Is that so?” He smirked at you, arms crossing over his chest.

“By the sounds I heard last night, I’d say so. Sounded like you were having the time of your life,” Noah and Logan watched you two like a tennis match, heads bouncing back and forth between you two.

Noah’s phone went off and he groaned. “I would love to see how this ends, but we need to go,” he grabbed Logan and dragged him from the kitchen despite the protests of wanting to watch this.

When the front door closed, you two stared at each other before Peter spoke first. “You’re a little liar, dove,” he slowly approached you, backing you up against the counter, trapping you. “Hmm, am I?”

He smiled as he looked down at you. His smile was breathtaking as you saw his features morph with it as it grew. “You are. You know I’m the best you’ve had. I’ll even top myself,” Peter leaned down, nose brushing along yours, lips achingly close to yours.

Your eyes shut, waiting for him to make the next move, but he pulled away. “I’ll see you tonight,” he sauntered out of the room, leaving you to stabilize your breathing and stop the shaking of your hands at his promise.

And he did. Multiple times after that first encounter. It had become a regular occurrence during the week. Peter would slink into your room in the dead of night, the two of you fucking for as long as you could possibly last, testing the limits with one another, and then you would act like neither one of you existed the next day.

It worked at first. The first few months went without a hitch with that unspoken agreement. Until you started to notice the shift in his demeanor to you on a daily basis. The once asshole persona that he put on for you was slowly cracking as you chipped away at it.

He started sitting next to you on the couch even when there were other seats open. When you got to the bar after everyone else, your drink was sitting at the stool next to him, waiting for you. If he knew you two were alone in the loft after fucking you raw, he would carry you into the shower, laughter bellowing from the two of you as he had you over his shoulder. Peter would wander into your room, sitting on your bed to just talk to you about your day.

Things were changing and while you were happy about it, you were confused. These feelings that you felt blooming were not supposed to be happening. You didn’t want him to leave after you would sleep together, but knew that was crossing a threshold. You wanted to hang out more, just the two of you. You craved him when he wasn’t around. It wasn’t good.

Peter laid on your bed, cheeks burning and flush after another late night session, but you jumped up, giggles flowing from you as you grabbed your robe and threw it on. His laugh flitted through the air at you, hand grabbing your wrist and tugging you back to him.

You hummed as his lips met yours, hand caressing your jaw, smiling into the kiss. “Where you going, dove?” Your teeth sank into your bottom lip as your hand rested on his chest, stomach flipping at the pet name. You pecked his lips again, fighting with yourself to go and get what you wanted or stay in his warm embrace.

“Stay here. I’ll be right back,” he nodded, lips landing on the tip of your nose as you hurried into the kitchen, grabbing the plate of cookies you had made earlier and a small glass of milk for him.

When you entered your room, he hadn’t moved. His arm was tucked behind his head, still completely nude and only covered by your duvet. His bicep was flexed unintentionally, the expanse of his chest was massive, his toned torso had you drooling.

His smile grew as he saw what you had in your hands. You sat on your knees on the bed, handing him the plate and the glass. “Post sex snack. I’m trying out a new recipe and want to know what you think,” his eyes fluttered shut as he bit into the cookie, a groan following as he took the glass of milk and chugged it, grabbing another cookie as he did.

With his mouth full, his eyes met yours and smiled. “Fucking phenonemal. You can bake, baby,” you giggled as he ate, snagging the plate from your hands and hoarding them from you. “They’re yours, promise!” He placed the plate on the nightstand table and grabbed you, placing you on his lap, lips skirting across your collarbones.

“Baking cookies for me to eat after sex, doesn’t get better than this.” His hand covered your mouth, knowing a squeal was going to follow as he flipped you both, placing you on your back and attacking your skin once again.

Peter didn’t leave your room that night. When you woke up the next morning to an empty bed,  your heart ached. You didn’t know when he had left, but it hurt. You missed Peter.

He didn’t make any further advancements. You didn’t know what was going on, but the lingering touches and gazes he shot at you, even around the others, had your head spinning. You knew he didn’t want anyone to know about this little thing and you understood why.

The loft’s ecosystem was fragile and the tiniest things could cause major shifts. You all knew the rules and one of the rules was no sleeping with each other. Now you understand that even more.

When Lily set you up on a date with someone else, you didn’t know what to do. Would Peter say something? You were fairly certain he was feeling the same, the icy man you had known was almost completely melted and a new, adoring one stood in his place.

“Lily wants to set me up with someone.” You had blurted it out one night as he slipped back into his briefs. It was like watching a new personality shift and take his place. His body tensed, freezing entirely, but nodded and shrugged. “I don’t know if I want to go though,” he cut you off before you could finish with a harsh laugh.

“You should. I’m about done with this anyways. Think it’s time to be done. Should’ve stopped a while ago, but it’s so easy with you just across the hall.” It was like he had slapped you across the face. He turned on his heel, sauntering out of your room right after those words had left his mouth like it was nothing new.

It shouldn’t have been something new for you. This was how Peter was and this was a temporary situation. Nothing more. Despite how you felt and what you were slightly hoping would happen. It was silly. You were nothing more than a convenient and easy lay for him. He would never feel the same way.

Lily sat waiting for you at the restaurant, drinks and appetizers already ordered. When you sat across from her, her scrutinizing gaze washed over you.

“Are you having sex? Like good sex?” You had barely situated yourself and you stared at her, mouth hanging open. “What? What makes you ask that?” She shrugged, monitoring your every move.

“You’re carrying yourself like you did,” you rolled your eyes as you sipped your drink. “I was. Not anymore though. Tell me about that guy you were talking about,” she instantly perked up, trying to pry the information out of you.

“Okay, tell me all about it. How is it? Are you finishing? Is it the same guy or different guys? What’s his name? What does he look like?” As her questions came quickly, one after another, you noticed your table start to shake. Every other second, the whole room vibrated.

A hushed silence fell over the restaurant as everyone waited to see if it would stop. You peered around Lily, having a clear view of the street outside. A large, robotic creature came pounding down the street.

Your jaw fell slack as you grabbed her hand, a rush of other restaurant goers running towards the back of the building to exit through the alley, but there were too many people trying to get out at once. You and Lily crouched behind the bar with a scream as the glass walls that adorned the front of the building smashed open, a mail truck sat blocking the front.

The red and blue blur of his suit landed on the mail truck that sat half in the building and half out. Lily peeked over the counter, pulling you with her to see what was happening. A few other of the employees and people just simply trying to enjoy their dinners took up the space around you both.

You couldn’t make out what Spider-Man was saying, your adrenaline pumping too hard to focus on what was being shouted, but he sounded familiar. You knew that voice. You knew it. His masked head turned and saw people still in the building and yelled for everyone to get out through the back.

You froze dead in your spot as realization washed over you. No. There was no way. There was absolutely no chance it was him.

It was Peter. That was Peter.

As you went to stand with Lily, you watched as his head did a double take in your direction. You looked directly at the white eyes, holding each other's stare for a few seconds too long as Lily grabbed you, screaming your name and that you needed to go.

You looked at her briefly and started moving, stepping over broken glass. When you turned to look back at him, he was gone.

The boys all sat on the couch, watching the breaking news of what had happened in the last hour as you both bounded through the door, shaking uncontrollably. Noah and Logan looked towards you and saw how frazzled you both were.

As Lily began explaining what happened, you scanned the apartment. “Where is he?” They all stopped and looked at you. “Peter? He’s in his room,” Noah said as Lily sat on the couch with them, trying to calm down.

You moved quickly to his door, trying to open it, but finding it locked. You pounded on the door. “Peter! Peter, open the door!” There was no movement, no noise on the other side.

The tremble in your hands grew more frantic. Your stomach was in knots. Peter was Spider-Man. Peter Parker was Spider-Man. Who knew? Did the guys know?

When you turned back to the living room, everyone's eyes were on you. “Are you okay? Did you hit your head?” Logan asked, moving towards you. You stepped back from him. “Oh, I’m fine! I need to talk to Peter. When he comes home, tell him I need to talk to him,” they all stood dumbfounded at your outburst, not used to seeing you act like this.

You went straight to your room and opened the door. As you did, a gloved hand went over your mouth, muffling your scream as they kicked the door shut.

“Calm down, calm down. It’s me, it’s me!” Your eyes whipped to the side as you saw Peter standing there in the Spider-Man garb. “I’m going to remove my hand and I need you to keep quiet, okay?” Your breathing evened out and you nodded your head.

He moved his hand and you turned, scanning over his figure. “Holy fuck! Are you okay? Did he hurt you? I don’t understand. I don’t understand. Peter, are you Spider-Man? Seriously? Are you?” He watched you as your hands had a death grip on his forearms, fingernails digging in through the fabric of his suit.

He was frantic, panic taking him over as he searched you. “I’m fine. I’m not hurt. Are you hurt, dove? I saw you at the restaurant with Lily and I don’t know how close you were to the windows,” his hand cupped your cheeks, tilting your head around as he searched you for any visible injuries. “No, I’m fine. We’re fine. We were towards the back,” he nodded his head, crushing you to him as he pulled you into a hug, a big sigh leaving him, lips placing a chaste kiss to your forehead before withdrawing his touch.

You instantly missed it, the comfort it offered gone as he moved back in your room, away from you. What the hell was happening?

“Okay, good. Yes, I’m Spider-Man. I’ve been Spider-Man since I was fifteen,” your jaw fell slack as you looked at him. You were roommates with Spider-Man. You had slept with Spider-Man.

“Holy shit, Peter! What the fuck? Who knows?” He started removing the suit and as you watched, your features morphed into one of confusion. As normal Peter came back to the room, suit discarded, you recalled the events of the night from just a few days ago. The two being completely different entities. The words he had said to you replayed in your mind. You halted and stepped back from him. “You’re the one who saved me,” it came out as a whisper, brain almost unable to piece the information together.

The sweet, sarcastic, funny superhero who had been your savior and who had sat and chatted with you for a bit after the dramatic saving was Peter. Asshole Peter who wouldn’t give you the time of day until you continuously spread your legs for him.  

His eyes darted to your figure as he stepped into his regular pants, stopping his motions as he slowly nodded. “Yeah, it was me.” You couldn’t help the feelings of anger that coursed through you, some sort of betrayal washing over your mind.

“So, he can be nice to me. He can joke around with me about the shitty situation that I had been in, but not you. Not unless my legs are spread for you? Because it’s nice to have an easy fuck when I’m across the hall. Wouldn’t talk to me in public, wouldn’t let me sit next to you on the couch, would leave a room when I entered it. You know what, Peter,” you scoffed, irritation bubbling up in you, tears slowly falling down your cheeks, “get out. If you don’t want to treat me like a person then go. You said you were done with this anyways.”

His mouth was open, brows furrowing and shaking his head, moving towards you to try and calm you down as the words flew from you. You opened your bedroom door, not caring that everyone was still in the living room and stood next to the door, forcing him out.

You didn’t want him in your safe space. He didn’t deserve it.

Lily left later that night and you laid in your bed, tears hitting the pillow at the sheer stupidity of the problem you had. Why did you think Peter would act like a decent human to you? It had been years of continuous shit and a few months of secretly sleeping together would change it? Dumb.

A tapping at your window had you rolling over and seeing the culprit in his garb had you sitting up in your bed, a bewildered expression on your face as he pointed to the lock and was asking you to open it.

It was freezing out and raining. You didn’t want him sick because then he would get everyone else sick. That’s the only reason to open the window.

As he climbed in, removing the mask and shaking his wet hair out, his skin was pasty with the red tint sitting on his cheeks and the tip of his nose. You turned and grabbed the spare throw blanket you had, holding out your entire arm to him with the blanket on the edge of your fingers.

He thanked you and wrapped it around himself before sitting on the edge of your bed, eyes never leaving you despite your attempt to steer clear of his gaze. You left the room and went to the kitchen. You wanted to postpone this conversation by all means. If that meant making yourself some hot chocolate with some extra for the asshole that was shivering in your room then so be it.

When you came back and handed him the mug, no whipped cream or marshmallows, he chuckled at you. Yours was piled high with the extras, even the small pink marshmallows that you fawned over in the grocery store with him during the weekly grocery trip for the loft, sat on your mug.

He remembered how you justified them being an extra fifty cents because they didn’t get stale as fast. He knew it was because they were pink and thought it was adorable that you tried to win him over on the purchase. He would buy you a million pink marshmallows if it meant seeing that look of excitement take over your features.

“What do you want, Peter?” He sighed, a pained expression taking over his face at your words. “I need to explain some things to you, dove.” You sipped your drink and sat in your desk chair across from your bed and nodded, not letting yourself look at him.

“Why do you call me that?” You whispered out, finding the whipped cream and chocolate shavings much more interesting. His laugh followed your question. “Do you know the first time I met you?”

You nodded and answered. “The loft interview.” You couldn’t fight it anymore, you had to look at him. A deep sadness sat on his shoulders, face sunken like he hadn’t slept, the stubble growing quickly on his jaw.

“No. I met you at that Halloween party in college. You brought a tray of cupcakes, the only person to do anything like that, and when Logan introduced us you gave me one. You said that your secret ingredient was a small dove chocolate in the middle. You were already so drunk, you thought you were whispering it to me, but you were yelling out over the music. I never heard your name when he brought you over so I called you dove for the rest of the night,” your memory of the night flashed in front of your eyes.

You had completely forgotten about that. Logan had gotten you absolutely shiftfaced and you ended up blacking out, memory erased. You had met Peter that night.

Hurt hit you like a truck, guilt following. “Is that why you were mad at me? Because I didn’t remember?” He laughed and shook his head, leaning forward and staring into the mug.

“Dove, I fell in love with you the minute you walked in that fucking door. I couldn't care less that you didn’t remember. We all got so fucked that night, it would’ve been impossible for you to know.” A permanent shocked expression sat on your face at Peter’s words. It made even less sense than before.

“My Spider-Man responsibilities are dangerous. They have ruined my life before and I cannot let it happen again,” his eyes met yours and they were brimmed with tears, a sniffle following as he squeezed the mug in his hands.

“What happened, Peter?” You walked over to him, taking the mug from his hands and letting your fingers go into the pillowy soft locks on his head. His hands landed on your hips, head resting on your chest as he tried to speak.

“Gwen happened. I dated her in high school and I loved her, dove. She knew about Spider-Man, she was in danger because of it, and I couldn’t save her. I don’t know how it’s possible, but I think I love you even more and that was the last thing I wanted to happen. I thought that if I put some distance between us, and didn't let you get close to me, that you would be safe. I can’t let anything happen to you. I need you safe.”

He was crying as your thumbs brushed under his eyes as he spoke. “I’m sorry about everything I have said to you. You are not just a fucking lay to me and when you said that Lily wanted to set you up it was like me opening myself up to more had been a mistake because you don’t feel the same. You are everything. I tried to hate you and tried to not care about you, but it didn’t work. I love you and I want to love you, but I’m so scared.” You gave him a soft smile and a wet laugh, tears falling to match his.

“Peter. That’s not how it works. I am so sorry about Gwen. I can’t even imagine what you went through and going through it so young is horrible. But you can’t protect me from everything. I’m a grown woman who has to take care of herself. Me knowing what you do and who you are doesn’t put me in any more danger and if it does I know what you’re capable of, Peter. I know you will be able to save me again.” You gigged at the end, hands playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.

“And I love you too. I do,” his smile grew at your words, pulling you in between his legs even further and connecting your lips.

As he laid back on the bed, taking you with him, you let him deepen the kiss, but pulled back, straddling his waist. “We’re going to have to sign a new loft agreement.” He nodded his head, hand cupping the back of your neck and bending you back over to meet him. “We’ll deal with it in the morning.”

“Please don’t make me save you again, dove. It was terrifying seeing your dorm building on fire and knowing you were still in there. Can I have more cookies too? I burn a lot of calories on patrol nights,” You nodded eagerly, lips trailing down his neck, your breathing picking up.

“I’ll bake you all the cookies you want. I use dove chocolate on those, too,” you whispered out, sitting up from him, hands resting on his chest, “My secret ingredient actually isn’t that though. It’s love,” you batted your eyelashes at him in an over dramatic way. His laugh echoed in the room at the cheesy comment, before wrapping his arms around you and crushing you to his chest.

Looking forward to coming home and eating dinner, stopping by on patrol nights to give you a goodnight kiss no matter what, to Peter Parker, he would do everything in his power to devote as much time as he possibly could to you.

Perhaps you were the time thief in his life now. Either way he didn’t mind when it came to you.

Were there times when it just simply wasn’t possible to shovel all of his waking energy towards you? Of course! The problems came when it had been that way for months. Yeah, you read that right.

In the span of four months, Peter had become so ravaged with his other entities responsibilities that his time with you was drastically rescinded. Unanswered text messages for days, not a peep from him for a week at a time, no more windowsill kisses. It was like he had vanished into thin air.

You understood at first. Hell, you had been dating the man for three years! What was happening, though, was unlike anything he had ever dealt with before. A group of men, identities undisclosed, were wreaking havoc throughout New York City. For months on end, like clockwork, every other week a crime would occur.

Each more gruesome than the last.

Peter had never really been on a deadline like this. Knowing that with each ticking second it was growing closer to the next attack. Spending all nights on the streets, trying to spot whoever could be responsible for this.

The worst part was that he had no leads. A few locations that were all pointless distractions. No semblance of an inkling as to who was committing all of these atrocities. In the span of time since their starting, over eight lives had been taken. A mind boggling number for such a short span of time.

Police were just as useless and he had decided to not take up any more time than necessary with them in tow simply because they weren’t taking this as seriously as they should have been. Instead of confronting the public, reminding them to be careful and not to wander alone past sunset, they were sweeping it under the rug.

Not wanting to cause a public disturbance. No need to fear monger they had told Spider-Man. Assuring him that all of those victims were tied to a gang in one way or another and it was criminal activity work. Something that he shouldn’t spend too much time dwelling on.

That was not a good enough answer for Peter. He didn’t believe them. Honestly, he wasn’t even sure it was a group behind all of this. It could have been a serial killer that was on one hell of a spree.

There was no pattern with their victims either. Randomly selected from the streets. What you didn’t understand was why Peter was involved with all of this. Of course, you knew he wanted to do all in his power to save as many lives as he could, but you warned him to be careful after the initial police warning.

Sticking his nose in places it didn’t belong was not going to end well. It had been the first time you two had argued to that extent. Shouting at the top of your lungs you weren’t ready to lose him and that’s what you were afraid was in the works.

He called you silly for thinking such things. That you needed to have more faith in him than you were giving. It still didn’t answer why he was so invested in this. You knew there were details he was purposely not giving you. Maybe he didn’t want to frighten you or maybe he thought you wouldn’t be able to handle it, but to you, you were a partnership, a pair.

All you wanted was to have Peter back around. Who knows, you might be able to actually help him if he came to you and showed you what he did and did not have. Instead, he hid it from you. Becoming cold and aloof. Distant and consumed.

If there was something you knew about Peter it was that he did not like being bested. Truly holding himself to a standard that was near impossible. Knowing he was above average intelligence, to put it lightly, when people tried outsmarting him, it was always a humorous effort. No one bested Spider-Man.

This time, they were.

Following that night of your monstrous bickering, you hadn’t seen or heard from Peter in over a week. Honestly, you weren’t making much of an effort yourself. Having no interest in being around him when he was in a head space like this. Knowing that there really was no way to help him if he presented nothing to you.

Peter on the other hand was not okay with you going dark on him. Despite knowing that the clock was dwindling down before their next attack, it was the first time in weeks you had been at the forefront of his mind. The little voice in the back of his head was telling him he needed to smooth this over with you or he would regret it.

Which is why he was climbing into your living room window with a bouquet of your favorite flowers, opting to take the night off even though it could be a crucial turning point. He ended up convincing himself it would be alright because if he didn’t have a direction to go in an hour before arriving at your apartment, then hunting tonight was pointless.

He didn’t have a direction.

Even though you hadn’t spoken to Peter, your thoughts were consumed by him as well. What was the bit of information he wasn’t giving you? Was there even anything he was leaving out? There could be the slim possibility he had actually divulged all he knew to you. But you knew better than that. Peter was hiding something, you just couldn’t figure out what it was.

The notes.

Discovered next to each of the victims he had come across. Given he was the only individual to find them and when he tried bringing it to the attention of the police, they had shrugged him off. They were trying to get to him.

Sheets of white printer paper, the typical horror movie fashion of assembly. Varying letters from magazines, newspapers, old letters, all taped and pasted on the paper in a note. Each one was different, but told in a fashion of a word problem. Some were like riddles.

Either way, with each new victim that appeared, so did a new note. It was one of the things he dreaded the most. Seeing what possibly innocent person had been selected in order to deliver the paper to him. His stomach turned just at the thought of it.

Tonight was not for that, though. Instead he chose to bury it in the back of his brain and spend some much needed time with you. So why weren’t you home?

If there was one thing Peter knew and loved about you was that you were a schedule person. Totally type-a, your day planned to perfection and given it was just after six o’clock that evening, you should’ve been in the kitchen plating your dinner.

Except, there was no you in the kitchen, there was no music or television playing in the background, it looked as though nothing had been touched all day. Until he stepped further into the kitchen.

When his eyes darted over to the corner of your counter, partly covered by your fridge, he froze. There it sat. An uneaten bowl of cereal. The milk on the counter next to it, the cereal box still opened and there.

As he approached it, observing the contents, you hadn’t even gotten a spoon out yet. It was filled to the brim, more so than you would’ve liked, but given it hadn’t been touched some of the cereal had inflated from the milk.

“Bug?” His voice, calm and collected echoed out into the quiet flat. Finally prying his eyes away from the alarming sight he had just seen, he was stumped. Everything else in the living room and kitchen was exactly as it should have been.

Maybe you were running late this morning and didn’t realize until after you had made your breakfast. Yes, of course! That’s exactly what it was.

Peeking into your bedroom, his heart rate decreased, a sense of relief and ease settling over him at the entirely bogus reasoning he had used to calm himself down. Until the most unusual sight of all was spotted.

Your phone sitting soundly on your nightstand, still connected to the charger. His hand rubbed at his closed eyes, trying to will his breathing to return to a normal rate. Tapping the screen, it lit up with dozens of texts. Some from Peter, some from coworkers, a few missed calls from work.

Never would you ever forget your phone. Never would you ever not put the cereal back in its place. Something was wrong.

His trembling hands removed his own phone from his pocket, before entirely losing any semblance of sanity, he dialed your boss’s number. It picked up on the third ring and Peter did his best to sound as normal as he could.

“Hey, Guy! It’s Peter Parker,” he was instantly cut off by his chipper voice on the other end. “Peter! How the heck are you?” He sighed, a shaky laugh escaping him. “Great, great. I just have a quick question for you,” as Peter asked if you had made it into work today, Guy responded fast.

“No, actually she didn’t today or yesterday. Didn’t even call. It’s not like her at all. I think a few of her team members tried texting her and didn’t hear from her either. Everything okay?” It was the worst thing he could have been told at that moment.

Clearing his throat, he tried to remain calm. “Mhm, yeah, yes. She’s just, uh, very sick. It might be a few days before she’s well enough to get back to the office. I didn’t call earlier because I wasn’t sure if she had or not.”

Guy’s laugh of relief was palpable. “Whew, thank goodness! Okay, well tell her to rest up and we’ll see her when she’s all better.” Thanking him and quickly ending the call, Peter tore your apartment upside down.

Any clues he could think of, any sign of forced entry, anything at all. But there was nothing. It was all still in the pristine condition it had been left in. Not a single thing out of the ordinary despite the two big red flags. Even going through every app on your phone, just in case, but it was fruitless.

Alarm bells were chiming in his head, he knew something was wrong. He knew you were in some sort of danger. He collapsed on your couch, wracking his brain for anything that could have given him something to work with.

Then he saw it. Out of the corner of his eye. A small piece of white paper stuck to the tongue of a running shoe you never wore. Turned on its side. He couldn’t remember if he had knocked it over during his rushed search of your apartment, but as he picked it up, his blood turned to ice.

Taped to the shoe were the letters he dreaded seeing. Had been haunting him in his sleep for weeks. When he could sleep that was. Unlike the others, it was almost a clue as to where to go next. His eyes quickly saw the time and knew they were going to strike again soon. Far too soon.

One step forward, three steps back, find her quick before she’s the next attack

It was an anger unlike anything he had ever felt before. Not when his parents had died, not when uncle Ben died, it was so overpowering, Peter truly didn’t know how to control it. Darting out of your window, knowing he was on limited time, he began his search.

A near pointless search. A pill that was hard to swallow. Knowing the chances of actually finding you were so slim. He had the list in the back of his mind, places he had scouted previously that he knew they had used at one point or another.

That was the only thing he could think to do. Which is exactly what he did. Searching one by one individually, spending no more than thirty seconds to one minute at each location before going down the list. Did he destroy some of those places during his searches? Absolutely.

He only grew angrier with each location he arrived at that you weren’t in. His hope was running out. Knowing he was at the last two possible places you could be at that he knew about. It was an abandoned warehouse by the river. The first place he had ever tracked them to, but it was far too late when he made his discovery. They had been out of there for over a week by the time he found it.

They were always just a few steps ahead of him and it drove him mad. His masked face searched the premises from what he could see. Through one of the partly shattered windows, there appeared to be a figure on the far end of the building.

A single light shining on them, their back facing where Peter stood. Sitting in a chair, only a wisp of a shadow, no identifying features to be made out. Assuming it was going to be a fight he was about to step into, Peter broke the remainder of the window and launched himself in.

Eerily silent. No noise in the entire building apart from the howling wind outside. It was beginning to become mid-fall in the city and it was always your favorite time of year. No one was enjoying the crisp autumn air that evening.

It was unbearably stuffy in there. No fresh air had swept through the place in years. The stale scents made that abundantly clear. Peter hesitantly approached the figure, the lighting just so he couldn’t make anything out until only a few hundred yards away.

The minute he saw the tied hands behind the back of the chair, his heart soared. “Bu-bug!” His voice shouted, relief flowing off of him in waves, but they came crashing down just as fast.

He wasn’t even sure if it was you. Incredibly deformed from obvious beatings, your face was swollen, bruised, and bloody like he had never seen before. The zip tie around your wrists had cut into the skin, pieces of flesh hanging from it.

As he looked down, the sticky floor was a deep crimson, continuing to pool from your countless open wounds. No shoes were on your feet, they too were cut and dangling from your seated position, totally limp.

He wasn’t entirely sure what was in your mouth as a makeshift gag, but whatever it was had been there so long, your skin was raw and bruised around it. It was the first thing he removed and as he did, your chipped teeth entered his view.

A blanket was draped over you that was covered in things Peter did not even want to begin to imagine. It was the next thing he went to remove, but he halted the moment it was off your body.

There, stapled to your bare chest, was his next note. The same haunting letters, covered in either your own or someone else’s blood. Based on the missing fingernails, he assumed it was a fight you had given which made him silently pray it was someone else’s, yours already spilled too much.

It took him a second longer than he realized to see that your toes were mainly all facing the wrong way. Your arms bruised from newly broken bones, legs in the same condition.

His trembling voice was the first thing you heard as he cut the tie from your hands, whimpers and choked cries trying to escape your hoarse throat. Immediately going limp, Peter caught you. Your body was convulsing in ways he had never seen, unable to open your eyes and see that Peter had found you.

His tears made heavy tracts on his sweat riddled skin. His gloved hands smoothed over the inflamed sections of your face. “I’m-I’m here bug, I got you. I found you, baby. I got you, okay? It’s okay now, baby.” Despite knowing how difficult and incredibly painful his next actions were going to be, he had to get you out of there.

Medical attention was the only way you were going to be able to survive. That meant Peter was going to have to carry you to the hospital. No possibility of emergency services being able to get to you before it was too late.

He was right. Had he waited for emergency services you would have died. You had been in the hospital for three weeks now. Finally in a state where you were fully conscious, despite the pain that never subsided, you were doing better than everyone thought.

It was unclear how long you had been in their “care” before Peter had found you. Based on the little memory you had from the snatching, it was assumed you had been with them for at least forty-eight hours, possibly more.

Peter hadn’t left your side since. Growing tired of hearing the nurses and doctors praise Spider-Man for having found you and saving you when he did. Hardly. He had hardly saved you.

In fact, this was his fault. It was the conclusion he had made. His careless and reckless behaviors had led them straight to you. He hadn’t spoken to you in a week and look what they had done. They thought they had killed you. There hadn’t been another attack yet. It meant nothing though.

No, the note left for him said otherwise. You’ve made it three steps back, how long until the grand final act?

Peter was frightening you. Since you had been awake and aware of what was happening, he had hardly spoken to you. The deep purple bags under his eyes were only growing worse, skin a sickly gray you had never witnessed in a human before, face hollowing out from lack of rest and food.

All he did was write in his notebook.

Curled up in a chair, he stared at the pages for hours on end. Occasionally writing and scribbling in it. His eyes never rested, constantly darting around the pages. It had been weeks of this. Total silence from him, not sure how to talk to him when he was like…this.

It was another late night in the hospital, having drifted in and out of painful sleep all day. Based on the lack of staff and visitors present, you assumed it was the middle of the night. The hospital floor just outside your door was quiet. An easy night for the staff, you thought.

Trying to figure out how to eat a pudding cup, one of the only things you could keep down, was your current task at hand. The tv playing with hardly any sound, it being the only main light in there, Peter silently re-reading whatever was in that book. That was the current mood of your room.

Eating was difficult. Only having three working fingers on your non-dominant hand, luckily one being your thumb, you struggled to pick up the spoon, also knowing you couldn’t move your arm to bring the spoon to you or bend over to get closer to consume anything. Just trying to move to secure the spoon in your mangled fingers had you on the verge of tears, losing your breath along the way.

You could do nothing without help. Not wanting to ask Peter for any assistance because of how poor his mood was. That was where you two currently sat with one another. Scared to speak to him more than absolutely necessary. Hardly speaking since being here.

His eyes briefly glanced at you before realizing what you were trying to do, throwing his notebook onto the side table. “Hey, hey, hey! What are you even trying to do, bug?” His voice was soft, a slight laugh in his voice, exhaustion evident with each word spoken. Taking the spoon from your hand, he pulled his chair closer to the bed, beginning to bring it to your lips.

It was silent until your eyes darted back at the book, deciding to take a leap. “Whatcha writing?” Your cracked, gravelly, and weak voice echoed through the silent room.

It made him want to revert to a blind rage attack. Your voice that was usually so full of life and excitement. Strong and loud that could command an entire room with only a few words. Now, he could hardly hear you, understand you, look at you. Jaw clenching at the question, his teeth grinded together.

When he closed his eyes, he saw visions of you beaten in that warehouse, left for dead. The immense pain you had been suffering through ever since then. Scars that would never fade, both physically and mentally meant he couldn’t sleep, couldn’t eat. Not until he found them.

Your face was doing better, still black and blue, but healing. Able to open your eyes and look at him despite the popped blood vessels. Bandages littered every inch of your skin, wrists tightly wrapped with special medicine for the skin loss.

“Notes,” he murmured, eyes darkening as you asked your question, obviously not wanting to speak about it more. Changing the topic as your pudding came to an end, his hand brushed through your hair, knuckles lightly brushing against your cheek. “What do you need? Anything?”

It was silly. A simple question to see if you really did need anything. It didn’t stop the tears from hurriedly falling down your face. “Yo-you, Peter. I need you. I don’t know where you’ve been, but it hasn’t been here with me. I feel like I’m healing on my own. Like you’re not even here. You sit in that chair, staring at that notebook for days on end. You’ve hardly looked at me, spoken to me, listened to me. Please, just come back to me. Please, Pete.” It was borderline begging, but months of pent up frustration had broken the dam.

Peter’s heart continued to crack with each additional word you said. Realization of what he was doing to you, slamming into him all at once. He nodded, chin resting on one of the side rails, sniffling himself. “I’m here, bug. Whatever you need. I’m so sorry.”

Your only non-fully broken hand you extended towards him, wincing in pain from the movement. Scared to touch you, he only placed your hand back down, removing the side rail to get as close as possible to you.

The rest of the night, you two sat chatting ,watching whatever movies you wanted. It was a glimpse at the man you had seemingly lost all those months ago. Peter was back.

You were released from the hospital just shy of a week later. Peter’s plan to nurse you back to health was his moving in with you. While it was just supposed to be while you recovered, you two ended up enjoying it so much, he was now permanently living there.

It felt like your relationship was shooting by leaps and bounds, spending time together like you had never experienced before. Him being there when you went to bed at night and his face being the first thing you spotted when your eyes opened was a treat you didn’t know you needed.

Feeling content, cared for, respected, and loved like never before. Peter admitted, with your confession to him in the hospital about how distant he had become, tore him apart. He had never seen you moved to tears in such a way, especially over him.

He didn’t realize how deep he had been sucked in until that moment. From then on, Peter swore to keep his other persona on the sidelines for a bit whilst you healed and needed him. Did that mean he was going to stop being Spider-Man in the meantime?

Of course not. It meant that side of him was reserved for the span of time from when you fell asleep to about forty minutes before you would wake up in the morning. Absolutely clueless as to the fact that he had been out all night.

Hunting. Stalking. Tracking.

It was the first night in which you didn’t need him to help lay you down in bed. Peter knew his sleep schedule was already fucked, each time his eyes would drift shut all he could see was you strapped to that chair, nearing death.

And the fact that he hadn’t caught them.

Keeping him up at night, when he could sleep it was plagued by nightmares. Peter knew that there was no opportunity for him to rest while these scumbags were still wandering the streets, looking for another prey to select for their sick games.

Which is why he was doing this without you knowing. Not wanting to worry you and cause you further stress. No, Peter could do this. Would do this. Had to do this. He had made amazing moves. Truly spectacular given the place he had been stuck in before.

They had no idea he had found them, watched their every move, plotted what he was going to do to them. Honestly, when he first spotted one of the three he had discovered had been involved in your…incident, it took every ounce of strength he had to not murder the man right then.

He had to remind himself that all he had to do was provide some patience and the reward would be unlike anything he imagined. And imagine he did.

It was what plagued his thoughts every single day as he watched you hobble around such short distances that only offered pain and tiredness from. His eyes would drift over your still bruised skin as he helped you bathe and it was like witnessing it all over again.

Your hand would tip his chin up, forcing him to lock eyes with you. It was nearly impossible to not see the sadness and hurt in his eyes. Disappointed in himself for letting this happen to you. It didn’t matter because what had happened was now in the past and all you were looking forward to was healing.

The emotional and traumatic scars left on you were not easy to mask. Perhaps that was another reason why Peter was so furious as well. If he moved too quickly behind you, you jumped and a small scream would follow. Trembling for upwards of an hour before settling down. Peter would have to tell you small things to gather your thoughts.

Feel my hand? I`m right here, bug. Here, I want you to use the remote and put on whatever you want. You feel the couch under you? You’re home, baby. You’re safe.

If it weren’t for Peter, you weren’t sure what you would do. He was your rock, your other half, offering reason for unreasonable thoughts. He was your Peter.

The rain was pattering against the window, a sort of white noise you weren’t expecting tonight, but were grateful for it nonetheless. It helped you drift off to a dreamless sleep, exhaustion from trying to do some basic things today taking too much out of you.

Peter was already out of the house before he knew you were soundly asleep. He couldn’t risk being late. Tonight was the night.

Weeks of following them, understanding and breaking their odd patterns, he watched as they went according to plan perfectly. A construction sight for a new high rise. This was their new rendezvous sight for the next attack.

There wouldn’t be another attack.

Counting silently in his head, as he saw a flicker of a small light near the top floor, his count was perfect. They entered exactly on schedule. Crawling down the side of the building and using the thunderstorm to his advantage, he shattered a window a few floors up.

There was no other way that he knew of other than how they had entered and that was far too risky as they had all other doors blocked. As he slowly descended the staircase to scout the floor and determine which room they were in, his hair stood on end as a voice hit his ear.

Three of them. All there. The monsters who were behind your attack. Simply waiting for him.

Except, they didn’t know they were waiting for him. No, tonight was a setup night. Preparation for the coming days of their next plan. Peter had determined fairly early on it was not going to be their final act like they had claimed.

The door was kept slightly ajar with a cinder block, no handles on them yet meaning if it closed, there was no way out for them. Which was their plan for their next victim. Leave the poor soul trapped here with no means of getting out alive.

Peter’s skin was crawling, every instinct shouting at him to just do it. End them now. It would be so easy. He shook off those thoughts, knowing his plan was the correct one.

He dropped to the floor behind them, one of them catching him out of the corner of their eye, a smirk taking over his face. “Spidey boy finally found us, boss.” The thick accent made him hard to understand. Peter kept silent. Very silent.

The other two turned to face him, matching looks on their hideous faces. “How’s your girl? You otta be more careful next time or she could get seriously hurt.” A chuckle escaped them. Peter still didn’t move, watching them from a few paces away.

Quickly deciding they weren’t a fan of the silent treatment, the largest man in the center who Peter knew to be their ringleader drew his gun. In the blink of an eye, web flew towards the gunman, pinning the weapon to the wall behind him.

“Come on now, you didn’t think I knew what you have on you? Just like how I know tweedledee over here is about to throw a knife at me,” Peter ducked out of the way as the blade hurdled towards him. “Now how about we all play nice and introduce ourselves?”

An over exaggerated sigh escaped Peter’s lips as the three men darted towards him, but he acted quickly, webbing them to the surrounding walls, letting one approach him to fight him. “Guess not. Okay, then. I guess I’ll be the one making the rules tonight then.”

Peter grabbed the three chairs from one of the corners of the room before leisurely strolling towards the door and pushing the cinder block from the opening. He whistled a made up tune as he removed them one by one, webbing them to the seats to the point of them not being able to move an inch.

“You know, it’s such a shame sometimes that I wear this mask because I would love you guys to see how big of a smile I have right now. Scouts honor, I am overjoyed that we finally get to do this!” He took his own seat directly across from them.

His head scanned them before pointing at the one on the right. “Let’s start with you bumblebee. What’s your name?” His black and yellow striped shirt was what appointed him his nickname. “You think we’re going to talk? I have nothing to say.”

Peter nodded at his words before looking at the other two. “Same goes for you two then, I assume?” When they didn’t respond, instead only seeing spit hurl towards him, he dropped his head, shaking it. “Such a shame. Alright, last chance. Just give me a name.”

Silence.

A shrug. “It brings me no joy to resort to this, fellas. I’m truly not a violent person. I pride myself on being as gentle as I can be. " He began pacing around, his chair discarded behind him now. “Igor, Viktor, Sasha.” He pointed at each of them individually as he divulged their names.

He gave himself a small satisfactory pump into the air at his success. He could tell he was correct by the little one on the lefts eyes growing slightly wider. It was just the start. As Peter continued on, he got tiny tidbits of information. Only when he presented to them what he knew. Which at this point was everything.

Names, date of births, addresses, spouses, children, education records, dental records, you name it, Peter had it. It still wasn’t enough to get them talking like how he wanted. Instead, Peter fell into the second part of his plan earlier than he had expected.

With seven toes, five fingers, three teeth, many beatings, and an ear, they were beginning to squeal. The leader, Igor, was suspended from the ceiling by his bound hands submerged in webbing. He was entirely nude, body cut up in ways that had blood spilling from him ferociously.

Viktor was webbed entirely to the floor, his entire body covered in fluid despite only one singular nostril. He was the one who cracked first which Peter expected after his reaction to his grandmothers home address in his tiny village in his home country. It was quickly discovered that he was mainly an action man, simply doing what he was told, not a mastermind of any sort.

The other one, Sasha, was who most of the beatings had gone towards once Viktor had divulged it was him who had mainly been the culprit in your beating. Webbed to the wall with no chance of escape, Peter mimicked all the injuries you had sustained on him and then some. Just missing a few fingers and toes now as well.

As the night drew to a close, Peter admired the work he had done. He wiped his gloved hands in a motion to signify he was wrapping up. They were hardly conscious enough at this point to understand what was happening to them. To understand the fate they had drawn themselves to.

There was just one final thing he needed to do. Grabbing the needle and thread he brought with him for tonight and tonight only, he walked slowly towards the nude man. “Did you know that I sew all of my suits? Crazy right! How in the world does he have the time to do this, you might ask. It’s a valid question, but you know what, if I took it to lets say a seamstress, I would be unbelievably broke. Not to mention, how does one drop off the Spider-Man suit without drawing suspicion. First world problems, am I right?” 

The man didn’t respond, but as Peter pierced the needle into his skin, his yelp rang in Peter’s ears. “Ah, ah, ah, don’t be moving around now, you’ll make my stitches go all out of wack here.” Peter took his time, but as he finished he admired the handy work.

Sewn into the man chest was a letter of his own. Crafted just for them. A message curated specifically for their enjoyment.

“How time flies, boys. Suns coming up here shortly. Time for me to be heading out.” He smashed a window, ready to crawl out, but he remembered one final thing he needed to do. Walking back over to Igor, he pulled his head back by the hair on his scalp, making him look into the bug eyed mask.

The whimper that fell from the grown man was laughable to Peter. “If you or your dogs come near anyone I love again, our next visit will not be as enjoyable as this one. If you get out of here, I mean.” Tears fell from the corner of his eyes as Peter released his head to fall back into its resting position.

“See you later, guys! Make better choices!” He called out behind himself as he crawled out the window, webbing it shut behind him before making his way home to you.

It was the first time in months that Peter felt like he could breathe. Taking in the fresh morning air, just minutes before the sun began to peak on the horizon, signaling the arrival of a new day. His lungs expanded with the deep breath of air, wanting to sob at the weight removed from his shoulders.

As he made his way back into the apartment, he spotted you in bed. Still curled up in the comforter, sound asleep, none the wiser of his whereabouts the night before. The brusing getting less and less noticeable by the day.

When he crawled into bed next to you, he refused to fall asleep, not tired in the least. No, instead as the sun began to shine through the curtains, he watched you. Watched as your chest rose and fell with each breath, grateful you were taking those breaths.

Because Peter knew that it wasn’t long ago where those breaths weren’t guaranteed. Now, he counted each one, to make sure you were okay. Of course you were okay now. Peter just needed to make sure.

It wasn’t too long after when you began stirring, eyes blinking open to see his golden eyes staring down at you with the softest gaze Peter had ever had. “Morning,” you mumbled, he whispered it back to you.

“You sleep okay?” He asked, to which you nodded, asking him the same. “Of course I did.” You smiled, getting up and ready to start your day.

Sliding down the wall just outside your new home, you were wheezing, uncontrollably coughing and trying to catch your breath as she did the same on the other side of the wall. As one of you would finally calm down, the other would scream the phrase and it would happen all over again. 

Clutching your stomach you begged her to stop, needing to breathe in order to continue on, knowing he would be coming upstairs shortly and would need inside the apartment. Everyone always spoke of how terrible moving was. How exhausting it was trudging belongings from one spot to another, trying to organize an entirely new space from scratch, the toll it would take.

Except, that wasn’t the case for you and your little group. At all. The day had already been filled with laughter and excitement, not a single complaint dislodging from anyone. The thrill of a new beginning had you giddy from your early morning wake up. It was a new life you were about to start. 

Doing it with him made it all the better. Finally having a place to call your own was one thing, but being able to share the space with your better half, the person you loved and adored most in the world, was a feeling you couldn’t describe if you had to. It was the start of your future.

The future you two had spent countless minutes, days, and months dreaming and crafting together. It was happening. A majority of your memories were going to be happening here. The big moments, the mundane moments, and everything in between. 

You just needed to get in there first. 

His arms were overloaded with boxes, not caring about the questions your small moving crew were going to ask about how the hell he was able to carry those by himself. Leaning to the side, his beaming smile slightly diminished as he took in your frame sitting on the floor, looking over to the front door and seeing the mattress somehow standing straight up on its side, but sticking completely out of the door, not touching the floor at all. 

Kneeling down and placing the stack of boxes on the floor, his hands went to his hips and then focused his attention on you. His thumb pointed at the bed as his eyebrows shot up, his hand grabbing your outstretched one and pulling you up. “Need some help?” She screamed pivot from the other side of the wall, causing you to hunch back over in laughter as he rolled his eyes.

“Ah, that’s what’s happening. Move chuckles, I got it,” your hand wiped at your tears, watching as Peter lightly laughed, moving the mattress with ease from the precarious spot and moving it inside. 

Going to step over through the front door his worried expression greeted you as he yelled out for you to wait. Placing the bed in your bedroom, he came back to you, an eager smile on his flushed face. Without any hesitation he scooped you into his arms, a surprised yelp leaving you at the motion.

Slapping his shoulder, you shook your head. “No, no, no! You only do this when you’re married,” he shot you an unamused look before setting you back down, motioning with your finger for him to spin around. Hopping onto his back, his hands wedged under your knees, standing and running you two into your new home as laughter flitted from you both.

Running around the small apartment took little to no time before he ran into your room and jumped on the mattress. You caught your breath, eyes slipping closed as a content sigh left your lips. His hand crept onto yours that rested on your torso, linking your fingers together. 

Turning your head to look at him, he was propped up with one arm, peering down at you, eyes shimmering in the light streaming through the uncovered window. Using his free hand, he grabbed the baseball cap that sat on his head and turned it around, the bill facing backwards as he leaned down, capturing your lips against his.

“You like it? I know it’s small-” you cut him off, shaking your head as your smile only grew. “It’s absolutely perfect. It’s ours.” Your hand cradled his jaw, letting him lean in to place another chaste kiss on you before you heard a voice call out to you both from the doorway.

“No, none of that right now! We have an entire moving truck parked at the curb with too much furniture to get into this shoebox. Up!” Your mom's hands clapped at you two to follow her, May right on her heels as they talked about where the bed should go to optimize space.

It was early. Too early for anything, but especially for Peter to be up. His nightstand light was on, but dimmed to the lowest setting. The sun was already starting to peek through the curtains, but it was far too early to be up on a Saturday. 

His feet came padding back from the bathroom, collapsing on the bed with a small whimper leaving his mouth. Rolling over to fully face him, he quickly attached himself to you. “Did I wake you?” The whiny and gravelly tone that came from him had your eyes fully opening to look at him.

“No, I just sensed something was off because you’re up. Spidey sense is rubbing off on me, sticky,” he hummed in response. Something was most definitely off because he didn’t have a smart remark to dish back out to you. Your hand came up, the back of it landing on his forehead and retreating just as quick.

Peter was burning up. “How long have you been feeling crappy?” He sighed, rolling onto his back and flopping his arm over his eyes, a large pout sitting on his plump lips. “All night,” you sat up, throwing the covers off your frame, feeling the cool morning air sitting in the room.

Barefooted patters echoed in the quiet apartment as you made your way to the bathroom to grab Tylenol, Vaporub, a glass of water, and a cool rag. When you reappeared in the room, the only light still being from his nightstand lamp, you saw he had moved around again. 

Your hand went to his lips, pushing the pills through them and putting the glass of water there immediately after. He gulped it down, not realizing hours ago that some water would do him some good. Trying to sit up, your hand pushed back on his forehead to get him to lay back down. 

“Babe. Your fever is out of control. Just lay down,” his moans of protest got louder as you picked up one of his feet, slapped a huge hunk of Vaporub on it, and placed a sock over it, repeating the motion for the other one too. 

Washing your hands and returning to your shared space, he was sprawled out in the middle of the bed. Both arms extended on either side of him, wrap over his eyes, legs spread wide, covers half on him and half thrown onto the floor. You rolled your eyes. 

Didn’t look like you were going to be getting back to bed this morning. Being up before the sun did give you some time to get some chores done that you had been putting off. One load of laundry already in the wash, dishes drying on the disk rack, and still a little time to get a quick stretch in. 

As you started, what was a quiet home only occasionally interrupted with a snore from your partner, was abruptly halted when his whimpers filled the room again. “Buggy!” When you heard his weak voice beckon you to him, you walked into the room, pushing his damp hair from his forehead and lightly rubbing your thumb over the warm skin.

“Hey, sticky boy. How you doing?” He could hardly crack an eye in your direction. Mumbling an incoherent response, rolling away from you with whimpers falling from him, and groaning in pain, you reached over his figure, placing the water in front of his face. 

Turning his head away from you, you started tipping the glass, making it dribble onto his face. “It’ll stop if you just drink it!” You argued with him, hearing him concede and take the glass to stop himself from drowning. Grabbing the bottle of cold medicine you poured the cap full and watched as he drank it and grimaced, overly gagging at the taste. 

He was out within minutes. This was one of the most annoying traits of Peter. You adored the man, loved him more than anything in the world and beyond, but he was the biggest baby when he got sick. Refusing to take medicine, crying and moaning, being completely unable to function on his own.

It drove you mad. It never happened often, only on rare occasions and he would recover quickly, but during it was like fighting an overtired toddler to take a nap. Never listening, doing the opposite of what you would say, pushing you to your limits. 

Look, you get it. When you’re sick, you’re miserable. Truly you are. It just didn’t matter what kind of a cold Peter got, it would knock him on his ass and he would milk it for all it was worth. 

Deep down, you knew it was his way of making you feel bad for him and wanting to spend more time with you. With the opposition of your schedules it was hard. What he failed to realize is that when he was like this, you wanted little to do with him. 

Instead of feeling pity for him, you felt utter annoyance. You could admit though, it was nice when Peter needed you. Given his abilities and who he was, you never really felt like he needed you for anything. Until he was sick.

As you were sitting on the couch, all of these thoughts were rushing through your mind, sighing in defeat at how your heart strings tugged in his direction. Peter needed you. Peter never needed you.

Entering the dimly lit room, your head tilted at the weakened boy sweating through your sheets and comforter. “Hey, sticky.” He peeked an eye open at your towering figure, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you on top of him. 

“Where you been, buggy? I’m so sick, need you,” it was mumbled out, barely coherent, sounding stuffed and exhausted. Your hand rubbed his burning skin, putting your hand to his forehead and noticing the temperature was starting to drop.

“I’m here, babe. I’m here.” 

The front door slammed behind you both as you ignored his voice calling out your name, continuing into the bedroom to get changed. “Look, all I’m saying is that I don’t appreciate him blatantly flirting with you like that. At a work party no less!” Your eyes squeezed shut, trying to fight off the impending headache.

Sucking in a deep breath, you turned to slip your shoes off, placing your jewelry on your nightstand. “For the millionth time, Peter, he was not flirting with me. I don’t know if you think I’m just some-” your brain was running so quickly you tried to settle on a word, “hussy who fawns over all her male coworkers, but that is not me.”

He groaned, large hands enclosing on his face to rub at the skin. “Not once did those words leave my mouth. I would never call you that or even think that. All I’m saying is that you can be overly friendly and men read that wrong.” A humorless laugh fell from you as you shook your head, standing to get out of your dress.

“Okay, so I shouldn’t talk to any man anymore ever because they’re going to read my vibe wrong because apparently I am just galavanting around my office saying, ‘Hey, everyone, I’m friendly, come have sex with me!’, right?” Peter’s hands flew up, looking at you like you were absolutely batshit crazy. 

He leaned down to take his shoes off, muttering under his breath as he did. “Can’t say a thing because-” your head whipped around to face him, craning your neck towards him, “I’m sorry, what was that?”

Shaking his head, Peter sat on the edge of the bed, loosening his tie as he did. Walking around your side of the mattress to get to him, he refused to look at you as you approached him. “No, go ahead, Peter. I insist. Do you want me to walk around with a dog collar that says property of Peter? Would that make you feel better? To let men know I’m taken because my word isn’t enough?”

In one beat, Peter had you laid flat on the mattress below him. Your eyes were wide, slightly breathless as you took in his features above you. Both of his hands had your wrists pinned to the bed, the heat of his body resting on yours, your head was swimming. 

His cologne he only wore for special occasions drifted through your nose, making your eyelids flutter as he knelt down towards you. Goosebumps erupted on your skin as his voice spoke into your ear, dropping an octave as his warm breath fanned across the heated skin. “You want me to show everyone you’re mine? I’ll do that for you, baby.”

Barely getting another breath sucked in, he had you flipped, face down on the mattress, hands shoving your dress up around your hips. His large hands caressed your ass, one coming down and eliciting a groan from you as it connected to one cheek, surely leaving a large print there. 

Peter was wasting no time tonight. When he got in moods like this, where he needed to show you who you belonged to. Of course, you knew he didn’t actually believe that, but you couldn’t fight the desire that would burn low in your belly when he acted like this.

The panties you had on, Peter ripped off your hips, leaving the scraps of fabric by your face. When you tried to turn to look at him, eyes going wide at the shredded material, he didn’t let you. One hand came down, shoving your face back into the bed as he shoved into you with one thrust.

A gust of wind expelled from your lungs at the sudden movement. Setting a punishing pace, still having your face mashed with the mattress, you could hardly catch your breath. The obscene noises that echoed through the room you knew were coming from the slick that was dripping down your thighs. 

Standing on the tips of your toes, his pelvis continuously meeting with your ass in a way that you knew would be nothing but bruising. Both of his hands were occupied, one ensuring your posture remained the same, the other holding both of yours bound together, your clit was aching for some friction.

Mumbling like an incoherent idiot, drool dripping down your cheek and chin. “Ba-baby, ple-please,” you were overpowered by your own strong moans, feeling the tip of his cock reach even further in you. His thrust stopped, brushing the messy hair from your face, lightly slapping your cheek to get your attention, speaking in a condescending tone. 

“What, baby? What do you need from me?” When you tried to respond, he released you from the confines of his grasp, turning you over to lay on your back. Your legs instantly closed around his waist, ass nearly hanging off the edge of the bed. His hand firmly gripped your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. 

“Words, baby. You need to tell daddy what you want,” clenching around nothing at the word, you whimpered at the harsh grip he held you with. “Rub my clit, daddy. Please, rub my clit,” his smirk grew at your words, thumb applying light pressure to the bundle of nerves.

Small circles were intricately pressed onto your core. Eyes slipping shut at the utter relief that coursed through you, immediately followed by immense pleasure. He leaned down over you, a looming force, a glint in his eye that showed his domineering side was out to play with you tonight. 

“Tell me,” a harsh slap to your clit when you didn’t instantly respond to him. He tsked at your lack of words, moaning instead at the brush of his calloused fingertips dancing on the top of your mound. “Tell me, buggy,” your breath caught in your throat as his fingers coaxed your entrance, replaced by the tip of his cock. 

Choking on your response, eyes slamming shut, you fought a battle within yourself. Stop the teasing and fall into pleasure or let him torture you to see how long you could take it. A bead of sweat trickled down your neck, his tongue catching it and savoring the taste before leaving a chaste kiss in its place. 

A harsh bite followed. “Be a good girl for daddy. Tell him who owns this pretty cunt of yours,” his eyes fell downcast at the mess between your legs. Your greedy hole trying to pull him further in. Anything to relieve the ache that pulsed. 

“Y-you,” his head tilted to the side, ear falling towards your mouth. “Say it again, pretty. Couldn’t hear you,” you fought the urge to slap him and how much he was enjoying this, but swallowed it down, playing into the power trip he craved. 

Batting your eyelashes at him, tears mixing with the makeup as it streamed down your cheeks, you kissed the shell of his ear, whispering your response into it, biting the lobe right after. “I belong to you daddy. Always.” 

Those words set off a wild animal inside of him that didn’t come out often, ensuring that you would be a sore, exhausted heap the next day. Not getting rest until the first streams of light would dance through the curtains, encasing him in a warm god-like glow that he most definitely deserved.

Long nights always seemed to always fade into long days. Today was one of those days. Being bombarded at work with new projects, being pulled from meeting to meeting, not getting a lunch break, not even getting a chance to check your phone until two hours after your original clock out time to see that Peter had already left for patrol. 

On top of that, it was pouring rain. You hated today. All you wanted was your partner's warm embrace and to cuddle while watching tv, but not tonight. No, not tonight. Trekking home, your pants were soaked through as were your feet from the ridiculous amounts of mini lakes that took up every street you walked on. 

Expecting to get home to a warm apartment, shower, and change was not in the cards for you today either. Instead, the cold air from outside clung to your home. Shivering at the freezing temperature, it sounded like it was raining. In the house. 

“Damn it,” you cursed out, thinking there had to have been a leak somewhere. Your search was stopped quickly when you found the culprit. A wide open bedroom window, leading to an entirely flooded bedroom. Running over to the window and slamming it shut, the floor squelched under the weight of your feet.

Grabbing every towel you owned, every article of Peter’s clothing, you laid them all over the floor, trying to soak up some of the liquid. After changing and sitting on your bed, a scowl on your face, you sat. Waiting. And waiting. And waiting.

The window opened again, a wet Spider-Man entering your home. “Hello, my love!” His mask was removed, a large kiss planted to your cheek, still trying to catch his breath. When his eyes fell downcast, he took in the scene, a bewildered look on his face.

“What happened, bug?” Your eyebrows went up,  thumb pointing to the still open window that he had just crawled through. “Look familiar?” His jaw fell slack, moving to quickly shut the window, moving towards you with an apologetic smile gracing his lips.

Those same lips that kissed an exposed inkling of skin between each sentence spoken. “Buggy girl, I am so sorry,” his lips landed on your forearm. “I am an idiot. The biggest idiot to have ever existed,” another to the crook of your elbow. “Please forgive me.” Finishing on your shoulder, landing on your neck, then your jaw, finally landing on your own lips, you melted into him.

“There she is,” he mumbled against you, a laugh escaping as you pinched his side. “You’re cleaning this all up, okay?” He hummed in agreement, arms wrapping around you and pulling you closer to him.

“Of course,” his gloved clad hands slipped under the fabric of your t-shirt, eliciting a gasp from you. “I just have something to do first.”

Checking each of the boxes that came through the door to see what was labeled what, you pointed in the direction of wherever that room was, sending it and its carrier to the correct spot. With the main bedroom mostly finished, you moved towards the restroom.

Sure, it was small and could hardly fit you and the towel rack, but it was enough. When Peter slinked in behind you, pressed directly into your back, his arms wrapped around you. 

“First aid kit there?” You held it up, shaking it and then placing it under the sink. “Made sure it was the last thing packed and the first thing out,” he kissed behind your ear then on top of your head. “You’re a genius, buggy.” When a loud banging noise came from the living room, you looked at him through the mirror. 

He nodded, instantly knowing what you wanted. “Let me help with that, it can be a bit tricky and slip if you’re not careful,” Peter’s voice rang above everyone else's as he helped your dad lift up the coffee table, placing it in the correct spot.

You smiled to yourself, hearing how well he got along with your parents and best friend. Not that you were ever worried about that, but it was nice. No, you were always worried about other things.

Like getting your superhero boyfriend cleaned up after rough patrol nights.

The crashing noise announced his arrival before he had even fully entered the apartment. You woke up, blinking in the dark to adjust your eyes to see Peter still on the floor. Instantly, you sat up, jumping from the bed and kneeling down with him.

“Peter? Baby, can you look at me?” Panic laced through your words as he finally moved. “Yeah,” he was breathless, pulling the mask from his head, even in the dark you could make out all of the cuts and bruises decorating his face and neck.

You sighed, standing and taking his hand in yours. “I need you to come to the bathroom, baby. I need to work on you in there,” he nodded, groaning as he came to his feet, hunching over as he wrapped an arm around you to be dragged to the bathroom.

Sitting him on the closed toilet lid, the light showed him in a more terrifying matter. He was entirely black and blue, blood dripping from where you weren’t sure. Trying to calm the trembling of your hands down to begin cleaning him up was harder than you would’ve preferred. 

His gloved hand came and grabbed yours, flashing a smile to you. “Go to bed, buggy. I can do this,” you shook your head, grabbing the washcloth to begin wiping the blood away. “No. This is my job, I got this,” the soothing motion of Peter’s thumbs rubbing circles into your hip and the quiet he offered while you worked allowed you to move quickly.

In no time at all he was bandaged up to the best of your abilities. You gave a sleepy smile as you put the items away, feeling his eyes follow your every move. “Don’t know what I’d do without you. Probably would die,” his words became more muffled as he pulled you to straddle his lap, nudging his head into the crook of your neck.

Your fingers wrapped in his long locks, arms landing around his neck as you sat. “I know you would. That’s why I’m here,” his nose brushed against your pulse point, a small groan leaving him as your hips slightly moved.

You shook your head as he slowly lifted you up, speaking quietly, scared that if you spoke any louder it would only further harm him. “Sticky, no, babe. You’re too-” he cut you off with a deep kiss, capturing your bottom lip between both of his. 

He didn’t let you say anything else as he pulled your panties to the side, fully sheathing himself in you at once. You lowered yourself onto his already achingly hard shaft, accepting him in one go. 

It was a reconnecting moment. A chance to show you that he was there, he was alright, and that you were always what he needed to ground him back to the moment. To stop thinking about what was happening in the Spider-Man world. Take notice of what he had here. That was more important to him than anything.

You two climaxed together, feeling his seed leak back out onto him as you fought to catch the shared breath that flew between you both. Lips having not parted once, eyes having remained shut, hands firm on the other to keep calm. 

When you rested your forehead against his sweat ridden one, discolored from the strenuous events he had dealt with all evening, you felt his lips land all over your face. From the tip of your nose, to each eyelid, cheeks, eyebrows, anywhere he could. Anything to show the gratitude he felt when you would wake up in the middle of the night to take care of him.

He would never know what he had done to deserve it. You. Now as you stood, taking his hand in yours, you helped him finish undressing. Climbing into the tiny shower together, his arms wrapped around you from behind, silently clinging to you. Not wanting you to go anywhere as the warm water sprayed away the night from you both. 

The shower head plunged your body in scorching water, pummeling against your head. Washing away the work day and allowing you to relax. Your partner was in the kitchen currently making you dinner, you had a new book to dive into tonight, it was going to be a great night.

Until you opened your eyes. 

An ear shattering scream left your mouth, in your attempt to back up and away from it, you nearly slipped. The bathroom door flew open, crashing into the wall behind it. The shower curtain was ripped open, Peter’s eyes wild with worry. 

Immediately grabbing him, dripping wet frame, you didn’t care. You just had to get away from it. “Bug, what’s going on?” His hands searched you for any signs of injury, but when he realized you weren’t hurt, his eyes followed your pointed hand.

“It’s up there!”

His head fell forward, laughing as he nodded. “Alright, alright. I got it,” he stood on the lip of the tub, hands enclosing around the spider, and making sure to keep it away from you, exiting the bathroom to release it.

Within a minute he was back, washing his hands in front of you to ease your anxiety. Still standing outside of the shower, your trembling frame was hesitant. Peter eyed you, a small smirk on his lips. “You good, babe?” 

Nodding, he could tell you weren’t being honest. He moved towards you, a small sigh leaving him. “Would you like me to shower with you so you’re not alone in there?” You nodded, waiting for him to undress and get in.

“You first,” he stepped in, turning towards you and helping you back into the warm spray of water. Handing you the removable shower head, Peter pulled you into his grasp. “Always my damsel in distress.” 

Your elbow popped back, connecting with his ribs as your lips set into a pout. “Shut up. I am not.” His fingers attacked your sides, shooting laughter into the enclosed space.

Speechless. Entirely and utterly speechless. You were standing in the kitchen, the box sat on the countertop, your parents all beaming at you two. “How? Why?” Was all you could mutter out. Your mom shrugged with a chuckle. 

“Those pots and pans you bought were garbage. You would’ve had to replace them within a few months. These will last you a lifetime. Really, they come with that warranty.” The Caraway sets had you unable to move.

After seeing everyone on TikTok rave about these and why they were worth the insane splurge, you didn’t realize you had spoken about them so much and so often that your families would’ve noticed and bought them for you guys as a moving in present. 

The creamy white was immaculate and the stainless steel handle felt cool in your hand. You could’ve collapsed right then and there. Eyes fluttering shut, you weren’t sure what to do. 

“It’s a gift from all of us.” Setting the pan down as gently as you could, you rushed over to pull Aunt May and your parents into a bone crushing group hug. Peter’s laugh echoed behind you as he picked up the pan, spinning it in his hand with an unimpressed look on his face. 

“I just don’t get it.”

It was what you kept repeating over and over in your head. You just didn’t get it. This project had been sitting on your desk for weeks, untouched because you just couldn’t figure it out. It was getting on your absolute last nerve. 

You were losing sleep over it, wasting your entire workday by simply staring at it. Unsure what your next move was supposed to be. It was turning you into a zombie. Consuming your thoughts, hardly able to focus on anything else. 

It had simply been a shitty day. A shitty week. A shitty month. All stacked on top of each other and to make matters worse, you and Peter were fighting. Over what, you had no idea, but all you knew was that you two were in a stalemate. No one willing to budge on their position to just smooth it over. 

Days on end of the same bitter attitudes. Was it your fault? More than likely given how stressed you had been at work, but you really did not have the mental capacity to accept blame and truly apologize. 

Entering your home, you had hoped he was going to already be gone for the night. Instead, he was standing in the kitchen, cooking dinner for himself. Which was fine, you weren’t really in the mood to eat too much anyways. 

His back faced you the entire time, never turning towards you, not acknowledging you. It was fine. You didn’t want to talk anyways. Emerging from your room, changed into your lounge clothes, you were pissed to find a stain that had been washed in, now permanently there. 

Moving around the space, trying not to look his way, you grabbed a bowl and a spoon. Fetching the only cereal you had in the house at the moment and the milk from the fridge, you poured yourself a bowl. 

He was watching you from the corner of his eye. Despite how mad at you he was, he had to make sure you were okay. That you were still functioning to some degree, knowing what was happening at work right now. To him, it looked like you were on autopilot. Simply coasting to do what your body needed, but seeing your brain still functioning on overdrive. 

Picking up your spoon, you turned to grab a napkin from the counter behind you and in the process you knocked over the gallon of milk. The white contents dripped all over the counter and onto the floor. You didn’t react right away, instead just staring at the mess.

Peter literally had to fight the urge to grab it while it was falling. His mind told him that it would feel better to see you cleaning up the mess you had made. That it was what you deserved after your fight. Did it make sense? Absolutely not, but he didn’t care. All he wanted was for you to feel as irritated and peeved as him. 

What he didn't expect to see was you crumpling to the floor into the puddle of milk, sobs echoing in the room. The bowl had tumbled from your hands shattering on the floor as you went down. Cereal and porcelain mixing together.  

You didn’t really know what happened. One second you were going for a napkin and the next the contents of it all were all over the counter and floor. Too much to handle at once, your body and brain begging for a break. The cries wracked your body, trembling and shaking as you cried. 

The saying goes, don’t cry over spilt milk, but that was exactly what you were doing. Just one thing too many, something was going to have to cascade over at some point. Tonight, it was the milk. Your emotional bank having to withdraw something in order to keep functioning. 

At first, Peter thought you had gotten hurt somehow. The realization dawned on him that it was all emotional, no physical pain or injury that he could immediately see. Your tear soaked face met his as he crouched down to your level, throwing yourself on him. 

Honestly, he was going for the bowls broken and jagged pieces, but he let you wrap yourself in him. His own arms enclosed around you, hands rubbing your back as he stood you two up. You clung to him as he stood. He picked you up with him, letting you place your legs around his waist. 

“Sticky, I’m sorry,” your words hiccuped in the shell of his ear, guilt wracking his body at your apology. “I know, bug, I know.” One of his hands cradled the back of your head, gently moving across the floor to not step in any of the shards. Setting you on the counter, his hands landed on the tops of your thighs as your cries slowly stopped.

Moving them to cup your cheeks, his own thumbs wiping away the stray tears, your breathing trying to even out, he offered a small smile. “I’m-I’m sorry, bu-bug,” your lips were swollen from crying, your nose running and stuffed. You were tripping over your own words, them getting caught in your throat. 

He brought your head closer to him, placing a soft kiss to your forehead, your own hands grabbing his wrists, as you started crying again. “You’re alright, buggy girl. I’m sorry. How about I take you to the room, you get changed, and I’ll bring you some toast, yeah?”

You nodded, sniffling as your vision remained blurry. Your hand moved from his wrist to his cheek, a large pout sitting on your lips as you touched his face for the first time in four days. There was nothing worse than fighting with him. Given how stubborn you two were, it was always a recipe for disaster when it came to spats.

“I love you,” you murmured out, watching as his smile took over his face. “I love you, too. How about once you get changed I do something for you?” Hopping off the counter and emerging from your room in a fresh set of clothes, Peter cupped your face in his hands, bringing you to him for the first time all week.

When he pulled back, his smile was still persistent despite your constant stream of tears. “Wanna be Spider-Man?” A wet laugh escaped your throat as he handed you the mask and a web shooter in his open palm. 

Slipping it on, the baggy material hung on you as he fixed the web shooter to your wrist. He crouched in front of you, letting you hop on his back as he charged out of the kitchen, running around the small space, allowing you to be Spider-Man. Even for just a bit.

Anything to make you feel better.  

“No, that is not what happened, May!” Your stomach ached from the laughter that had been happening all evening. Tears were steadily falling from the corners of your eyes as May told a story about Peter eating a quarter as a child for a magic trick then having a meltdown because Ben had told him it had to come back out someway.

Peter’s face was beat red in embarrassment, the candlelight that lit the room not doing enough to cover the tint. It was the first dinner party you had hosted. Every month was a different place. Sometimes it was held at May’s, other times at your parent’s, your best friend’s apartment, Peter’s best friend’s apartment, or your brother’s place. 

This was the first time you had been able to host, finally settled into the apartment and after having found a few tables that you could squish together for the night, you were ready. Having planned a wonderful menu, moving all the furniture to make space, and ensuring there were enough chairs it was exactly what you had hoped.

Standing from your chair to head back to the kitchen and grab another bottle of wine, Peter stood with you, following you into the room. Offering a small, entertained smirk in his direction, his arms caged you in, pinning you to the counter as you joked. “Did the quarter ever come back?”

Rolling his eyes at your question that had you doubling over in laughter, you felt his lips capture yours, having you stand back upright. Your giggles bled into his mouth, the sheer thought of Peter as a child, swallowing a quarter, then promptly bursting into tears afterwards was delighting you. 

Pulling back, he narrowed his eyes at you. “Think that’s funny? Huh, do you?” His own chuckles mixed with his words, you nodding almost out of breath again. Shrugging, his shit eating smirk took over his lips as he sighed overdramatically. 

“Okay, then. Here’s another magic trick for you,” you barely even blinked before the thwip of webs echoed out into the room, the bottle you had been holding now resting soundly in his hand. You on the other hand were webbed to the counter. 

He smiled brightly, a light laugh following. “Now, for the trick. Watch as I disappear!” The door to the kitchen closed as he slipped through it despite your shocked laughter and whisper shouting his name. 

Standing there in disbelief, starting to try and free yourself from the confines of the webbing, the door opened again. You stood up straight, acting like you were working on dishes, but you relaxed when you saw Peter enter the kitchen again.

“Like I would leave my damsel in distress,” groaning, you rolled your eyes at the persona you despised. “I am not-” he cut you off, solely focusing on getting you free as he spoke with you in unison, “a damsel and I am not in distress.” 

You were biting back a smile at that, smacking his chest when the kitchen door swung open again. “Sweetheart, I asked you for a new knife like an hour ago,” Peter stood up straight covering the webs that decorated your hip and the counter. 

Her gaze fell to you two, eyeing you both in suspicion. “Everything okay in here?” You nodded, looking back at the counter that she couldn’t see. “Oh yeah, we’re just getting more bread. We’ll be out in a sec,” she turned on her heel, watching you both in curiosity as you both beamed back at her.

When the door closed, you both focused back to the mess. “Hurry!” His nimble fingers worked fast, giggling as he worked. “I’m trying! Stop moving, you’re making it worse!” You both were giggling like madmen and although your mom couldn’t see what you two were laughing at, she smiled.

Peeking in through the crack, just to make sure you were actually okay, and seeing your head fall back as Peter said something she couldn’t quite make out, but hearing your laughter mix with his. 

Nights like these made your heart soar. When everyone was good. When everyone was okay. It was these nights that you would look back on in pure admiration and yearning. For a time that you weren’t sure would happen again.

As you and Peter stood in the kitchen in utter silence, waiting for the phone to ring, you thought back to those nights. Wondering if it would ever happen again. Waiting to hear that everything was alright. That your brother was going to be fine. He had to be fine. He was going to be fine.

Getting a call early that morning from your mom had changed the trajectory of your day. Arriving at work at your normal time, 8:03 am, sitting in your chair, turning your computer on, unpacking your bag. It was regular. Supposed to be like every other day.

You were going to get through your work day, get home at 4:25 that afternoon, make dinner with Peter, he leaves for patrol once the sun goes down, and you spend the rest of the evening watching tv and reading. A normal day.

The phone call at 8:07 that morning threw that all off. Your dad told you that your mom was on a plane to California. That they had gotten news early that morning that your brother had been hit by a drunk driver just hours before. Trying to listen as he told you the latest update on him.

That had been twelve hours ago. Peter didn’t go on patrol that night. You didn’t make dinner together. You ate a bagel that Peter made for you. Only half, him polishing off the other. Sitting at the island with a chair, staring at your screen, waiting for it to light up. 

They had been able to hold off on the surgery he needed until your mom got there. That had been five hours ago. Now, you sat waiting. Peter was there the entire time. Knocking knees with you, reading to you, asking for your help with sewing his suit. You had no idea how to sew, but Peter showed you how to that night. 

One of the only breaks you had taken that day was the first time you had left the kitchen since getting home. Leaving the restroom, Peter’s loud voice boomed into the apartment, calling out to you. Running into the kitchen and snatching your phone, you immediately answered.

It was like the largest weight you had ever felt being taken from your shoulders. Tears cascaded down your cheeks, a large smile coming across your features as Peter stood, patiently waiting. Hanging up the call with your mom, you turned to face him. 

“He’s okay. Great, actually. They said as soon as he was out of surgery he was cracking jokes with the nurses. He’s okay,” Peter’s arms swept you into his embrace as you silently cried into his shoulder. That was your partner.

The man who would drop anything at the drop of a hat to ensure he was going to be there for you when you needed him most. Who would make sure that you were okay. That you were better than okay. That you were the happiest you could be. 

He had made that mistake before with someone else and he knew better this time around. He wanted to be the best he could be for you. It was the single most important thing to him. Your utter happiness.

Flopping onto the couch that sat in the empty living room, a loud groan escaping your throat as you did, you could feel the exhaustion of the day seeping into your bones. The sun was already setting below the horizon, dashing in between the various large buildings on either side of your own apartment building. The truck had been unpacked and returned. The entire family gone, leaving you alone in the apartment for the first time.

His head poked out of the door frame from the kitchen, eyes observing you to make sure you were still alive and kicking after the incredibly long day you had just endured. A soft smile played at his lips as he saw you on the verge of sleep on the sofa, sprawled out with no space for him to join.

He would make space. 

You didn’t even realize you had shut your eyes, letting the sleep overtake you until you felt arms wrap around you, pulling you up and flipping you. Instead of sinking your weight into the soft and fluffy material of the couch, warmth greeted you and circled around you.

Not even bothering to peek an eye open, you fully relaxed into him, inhaling the cologne that hung to his dirty shirt that normally you would have protested against laying on, but tonight you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

The security and comfort he offered with just a single embrace was unmatched, unparalleled. It was the feeling of his calloused palms rubbing against the bare expanse of your arm, occasionally slipping under your shirt to gently run his fingertips along your lower back that let you know it was him. That he was going to be here. That this was now your home. That he would do whatever he needed to to ensure that this would remain your home. Your safe space. Your haven. 

The warmth that expelled from you, the gentle rise and fall of your back as your head rested on his chest, the occasional twitch as you fell further into sleep's grasp, was Peter’s anchor. It was your way of letting him know that you would always be there for him. To comfort, to protect, to do anything you could for him.

God knows he would need it. It was what nagged at him. The small voice in the back of his head that would make an appearance once in a blue moon. Peter knew at some point, somewhere down the line something was going to happen. Something that would wreck him, destroy him. Something that you would have to pick up the pieces for, to make him whole again. He didn’t want it to happen. Who would? 

But it would happen. And when it does, you would be there. That was your promise. No matter what.

It had been on the news. You couldn’t believe they aired it. Happening live, no one knew it would happen. Spider-Man was there to save the day and make it all better like he always did. Except today. 

He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t save everyone. 

This was a conversation that had happened many times before. Getting him to understand that despite his best efforts, there was going to come a day where it would happen. 

You just didn’t expect today to be that day.

Pacing around the living room, gnawing on your thumb nail, waiting. Simply waiting for him to finally come home. He needed to come home. 

You had turned the news off over two hours ago, unable to hear them talk about it again. Instead, a silly comedy played on the television. Something to dull the screaming voices in your head. The same voices that were at odds with each other. Did you need to go find him or just wait for him to come back?

Two hours, going on three, and then four was too long. Too long to be waiting for him to come home. Slipping your shoes and coat on, you took matters into your own hands. Grabbing your house key and phone, you made your way to the front door.

If he wasn’t going to come home then you were going to go to him. Where was he? You didn’t have the slightest idea, but you would find him. As soon as you pulled the front door open, a dull thud came from behind you. 

Whipping around, you saw him standing there, Spider-Man garb forgotten and dressed in regular clothes, he looked exhausted. Letting the door close, you turned and made your way towards him. 

“Hey, sticky,” it was spoken as quietly as you could manage. This was uncharted territory between you two, unsure how he was going to act and respond. Anything could have happened, he could have responded in any possible way.

This was not what you expected.

A large smile spread across his face, his cheery attitude partnered with it. He crossed the space, enclosing you in his arms and placing a large kiss on your lips. It shocked you. Out of everything that could have been his emotions and feelings, the cheerful and joyous man that was standing in your living room was not what you expected. Had prepared for. 

Your worried facial expression traced him as he walked through the apartment towards the kitchen, coming back just a second later with a bowl of cereal in his hands. “How was your day, baby? Did you get that project done? I know you had that presentation, too.” 

He was speaking in between mouthfuls of his bites, collapsing on the couch and lifting one arm to rest on the back, beckoning you to him. Confused, but continuing to tread lightly, you gingerly sat next to him, feeling his arm pull you into his side, a kiss landing on your temple. 

The remainder of the night continued in that nature. Like nothing had happened. Staying on the couch watching television, Peter demolishing the remainder of the cereal you had in the apartment, and then going to bed together after he showered.

Nothing out of the ordinary, nothing to think twice about, nothing abnormal. Which is why you were so worried. 

In the blink of an eye, nearly three weeks had passed since the accident. Peter hadn’t displayed any emotion regarding it at all. You were entirely unsure what to do. Would bringing it up be beneficial? He hadn’t brought it up and you didn’t want to if he didn’t want to talk about it.

Maybe he had already dealt with it and you just weren’t a part of the process. Sure, it was a bit hurtful, but if he handled it, then that was better than nothing. 

When four weeks were approaching with Peter not having made a peep about it, you exploded. Sitting on the couch, watching as he discussed what was going to be happening for dinner and what you wanted to do this weekend, carrying on like nothing was wrong.

“Peter?” He hummed, sliding the sock onto his foot, the other between his teeth. When you didn’t respond right away, his eyes darted up to yours, seeing them narrowed in his direction. Irritation and anger was rolling from your figure and into the aura of the room. “Buggy?”

Shaking your head at him, your chin resting on your closed fist, you exhaled a large breath you had been holding in for nearly a month. “Are you okay?” His eyes widened in surprise, a laugh falling from his throat. Nodding in response, he shrugged, still confused as to why you were seemingly so upset.

“I’m alright. Are you okay?” You shrugged, picking the fuzz from the couch. “Honestly, I don’t know.” Peter walked over to where you were seated on the couch, trying to catch your line of vision as your gaze continued staring at the couch cushion. “Baby? What’s going on?”

Sighing, letting your eyes fall onto him, he had a true look of worry on his features. “Peter, you-I just,” you were stumbling over your words trying to figure out how to piece this together in the correct way to truly display how you were feeling.

“Peter, a child died a month ago while you were trying to save him and you couldn’t. You disappeared that night for hours, when you got home it was like nothing had happened. I keep waiting for you, or for something to happen. Like you’re going to break or something and it’s like you’re totally fine.

“If you are, that’s okay. If you worked through it in some way without me that night, that’s okay, too, but I need to hear you say that you’re okay.” When your eyes fell back to him a blank expression sat on his face. Any emotion he had been feeling, gone. His jaw was set, teeth grinding together, but his head dropped. 

His hand swiped at his nose, a small sniffle following before he nodded. “I’m fine.” You shook your head, reaching for his hand as he stood. “No, you’re not.” He ripped his hand from yours, a humorless laugh fell from his lips, hands landing on his hips. “Don’t tell me how I’m feeling.”

You shook your head, as you went to speak again Peter spoke up over you. “In fact, there’s a reason why I haven’t talked to you about this. Because I don’t need to. I am fine. I have dealt with this in my own way. Don’t bring it up again.” Brows furrowing at the tone he was speaking to you in, you were taken aback, but were overpowered by the disrespect you felt.

“No. We’re not dropping it. I don't appreciate how you’re talking to me, Peter. I want you to tell me how you dealt with this,” his hands scrubbed at his face, a bewildered expression taking over his eyes. “You don’t need to know. That’s what I’m leaving this at.” 

Following him and blocking his way from going back into the kitchen, you peered up at him, anger still prevalent in both of you. “No.” His hair fell into his eyes lightly as his tongue darted out and ran along his bottom lip, hand rubbing harshly at his jaw. 

“Yes. Move.” Your arms crossed over your chest. “Not until you tell me how you did this.” It carried on that way for a few minutes before Peter jumped to the ceiling and tried crawling behind you to get passed, but you moved too quickly, blocking any access points for him to leave. 

“Peter, knock it off! Just fucking tell me. What the fuck did you do? Is it that bad that you can’t tell me?” You were shouting, mind reeling at all of the possibilities of what he could have done, but when he yelled back, you stopped, staying rooted to your spot. 

“I fucking went to Gwen! There, is that what you wanted to happen? Is that what you wanted to hear? Does that make you happy?” He tried catching his breath, immediately calming down as he saw your reaction. Tears welled in your eyes, you nodded with a sniffle, chin wobbling as you stared at the far wall.

What you had assumed was just Peter bottling up all of his emotions and hiding from dealing with the situation is what you would have preferred than to what he had just told you. “Bug,” his voice was small, but echoed into the quiet room. Your hand came up to stop him from moving any closer to you. 

You turned to face him, finding it entirely too difficult to even look directly at him. “Fuck you.” The seething disdain that accompanied those words, really drove it into him how much he had hurt you. Turning on your heel and going into your room, you grabbed the pillow and blanket, throwing them back into the living room and onto the couch.

Peter’s eyes fell down as he went to grab it and set up what would be his makeshift bed. You snatched it from his grasp before he could reach it, shaking your head. “No. It’s mine. I refuse to sleep in that bed. Not with you.” 

Shaking your head, a decision made in a flash, you felt hot tears streaming down your cheeks. “Actually, no.” Walking over to the small entryway table and grabbing your bag, slipping your shoes and coat on, you went to the front door. 

When you turned and looked at him, you could see the disappointment and regret living on his face. He knew it was wrong and that was exactly why he had kept it from you for so long. “Do not speak to me. Do not speak to any of my family. I can’t even stand the sight of you right now. Do not even try,” you could see him crumbling as you spoke. 

Truly, you had no idea of where you were going to go, but anywhere was better than there. In the fortress of a life you had constructed with him by your side. It felt like it had been tarnished, made of only a facade. Nothing true. In the worst moment of need in his life, instead of turning to the woman he had sworn to craft a life with, he went back to who he had been with before. 

It was the worst pain you had ever endured. Wondering if there was something wrong with you. Why you weren’t good enough for him. How he opted to neglect you and your relationship in that way. The stinging sensation of remorse filled your being. Your world was crashing down around you. 

He didn’t listen to you. Instead of leaving you alone like how you demanded, you were constantly bombarded with calls and text messages, asking when you were coming home to figure this out. Home. 

A singular word that you felt had been built on a set of lies. That he was never ready to move past her. That things with you had just spiraled out of control and he didn’t know how to stop it. When in times of true crisis he would always revert back to her, not you. Not being to him what you had thought. Never having held a single doubt about your relationship together until this moment, but now had you questioning everything. All of it.

Nothing felt real anymore. 

A full week had gone by since you had seen or spoken to Peter. Having chosen to stay with your parents, not letting them in on what was actually happening. Just that you needed some space. Some time. 

When flowers arrived at your childhood bedroom door, you stared at the vase full of an apology bouquet. Your mom thought it was the sweetest thing in the world. That even though things were bad right now that he was still doing this for you. 

A knowing feeling wormed its way into your gut, telling you that he was watching. Somewhere he was spying. To see if you liked them. 

Grabbing the vase and walking outside, you lifted the dumpster lid, tossing the perfectly fine arrangement in the trash. Slamming the lid down, you slinked back into your parents home, your mom deadly silent as you walked by.

Questions were swimming in her head and you knew it. Choosing to answer in one fellow swoop of a response you spoke out. “Flowers can’t fix this,” voice raw from the shed tears over the last week, it sounded foreign to your own ears. 

Having had enough of sitting in your room, you needed answers. Instead of going to where you knew he waited with baited breath for you, you went elsewhere. The brick home greeted your vision as you strolled to the residence in Queens. Stepping up to the door, you lightly knocked. 

Aunt May answered in record speed with a large expulsion of air. “Thank god you’re alright. Peter told me you haven’t spoken in nearly two weeks.” Stepping into the warm embrace of the home, you followed her into the living room. 

As she sat with you, you turned and looked at her with tears brimming in your eyes. “I have to ask you a question and I need you to be as honest as you possibly can, okay?” She didn’t like where this was going, taking your hand in her own as she waited to hear what you were going to say next.

“Does Peter love me?” Her jaw fell slack, staring at you in awe. Shocked at how serious you were to even be asking this, tears silently cascading down your cheeks as you hiccuped. “Oh my-honey, of course he does!”

Shrugging, you shook your head. “Just not as much as Gwen, right?” At the mention of her name, May stiffened like a board. “What did he do? You tell me right now or so help me I wi-”cutting her off with a sad smile, you patted her hand. “It doesn’t matter.”

It was the answer you needed. You took your time going back to your shared apartment that night. Taking the scenic route, not wanting to rush into this. 

When you opened the door, took your shoes off, and stared at the empty apartment, sadness creeped into you. The home that you two had built, sitting nearly deserted and alone. You sat on your side of the couch, flipped the television on, and sat and waited. 

Hours had ticked by, mindlessly watching the screen, not remembering anything of what you had seen. When the window opened to your right, you didn’t turn to look at him. Didn’t want to really see him. 

Nearly falling over where he stood, his mask was ripped off his frame, staring a hole into the side of your face. “You-you’re back,” it was spoken out in utter shock, you only briefly nodded in response. 

“Not permanently.” Silence. He quickly entered the bedroom and re-emerged dressed in normal attire. Sitting on the coffee table, facing you, waiting for you to say something. 

You waited. Waited for the nine minutes that were left on the air time of the show. He could wait. Like how he had made you wait all of that time after the incident. To see if you were an actual part of his life. A functioning part. 

When the end credits rolled, you let out a soft sigh and shut the tv off. He didn’t push. Sitting patiently, awaiting anything you were going to say and do. 

“I came back to talk.” He nodded, elbows leaning on his knees, fingers linked together. “You showed me everything I needed to know. About where we are. Where we’re going. How we were doing. Obviously not as good as I had thought, but that’s fine.”

He wanted to fight you, but knew better than to speak over you. Not right now. “It’s blaringly obvious that you will never quite love me like how you did or do Gwen.” You hoped you weren’t going to cry, but as the words left your mouth, it hit you like a ton of bricks. 

Tears silently left their tracks on your cheeks, staining the skin with their traces as your eyes were downcast. Taking in a deep breath you continued on without a moment of hesitation for him to interrupt. “It kills me. I feel like I’ve given my all, showed you in every possible way that I am your person. That I am here. I thought I was what you needed, but now I can honestly say I don’t know if that’s true.”

Hiccuping through the tears, trying to get your points across, Peter stood from the coffee table and crossed the room with his back to you. His hand landed on the top of his head, tugging on the hair before landing on his hips. A sniffle echoed out in the quiet room as he turned back to face you.

Dejected.

“What-what can I do? I love you. More than I can even describe and I made a mistake. A massive mistake that I can’t take back. Baby, you gotta tell me what to do to fix this.” By the time he had finished he was back in front of you, crouched and taking your cold hands into his warm ones.

Your eyes shut, not wanting to see his skin touching yours, but savoring the feeling of it. “Tell me the truth. About it all.” Your tear filled eyes met his and he nodded with a small shaky exhale of breath. 

Removing his hands from yours he rubbed his face before starting, trembling hands coming back to enclose around yours with no fight from the receiving end. “You have to know that I have no feelings for her. Hardly even a friendship, but she was there at the start of it all. When it happened, I-I couldn't come back to you in the state I was. I couldn’t let you see me like that, bug.”

Your brows furrowed at his words, face scrunching up in disbelief. “That makes no sense, Peter.” You weren’t buying it. He was watching you slip further and further away. “I’m supposed to be the rock. The unmovable force that can weather any storm. When-when it happened, I was-wasn’t able to get control of myself.

It was the worst state I had ever been in. I didn’t want you to see me like that. I couldn’t let you. Baby, you’re my everything and I thought I was protecting you.” As he continued to talk, tears fell from both of your eyes, his hands roamed the bare expanse of skin under his palms, trying to soothe you whilst you both shattered before one another. 

“It was such a mistake. I regretted it the moment I saw you, bug. I’m so sorry,” your sob caught in your throat, letting him drop his head, kissing a trail up your arms to your neck where he stayed, tears pooling on the skin. “I’m so mad at you, Peter. I’m mad at myself for-for making you think that you couldn’t come to me. I don’t know what else I could’ve done to show you that!”

The tone of your voice lifted with confusion, a small shout escaping you as the emotions overflowed. His shaking head was him trying to show that it wasn’t you. Despite everything it wasn’t you. 

“It’s me. I had this connotation in my head that I couldn’t show you that side. I knew you had always told me that when it eventually happened that you would be there. In my head it was never going to happen and when it did, I didn’t want to show you that I was weak in any way. For god’s sake I’m fucking Spider-Man,” your hands cupped his cheeks, peering into the pooling irises that had bloodshot veins surrounding them. 

Swirled with pain and anger. Not at you, but at himself for not knowing what to do. For allowing any sense of weakness to happen and never wanting to have shown you that he could break. In his eyes, he couldn’t. Not for you.

“You’re Peter Parker most importantly! A human man who is my partner. I am so sorry if I’ve put these-these pressures on you to make you think that you can only be strong around me, but that is not a partnership. I-I want you to be vulnerable and show me everything there is with you. I love you, Peter. You. Come. To. Me.” 

As you finished, he launched himself at you. It had been weeks apart, questioning everything, and although there was still much to figure out in the hours and days ahead, at this moment it didn’t matter. When you had him against you once more, in a messy and miserable way, desperate to have your other half with you again. 

Through thick and thin, for better or worse, these were the promises you had made to one another that you knew you two would honor for as long as you had with him by your side. Even when you two were at your lowest, it didn’t matter. It was you two. 

Christmas had come so quickly this year. A year of immense struggle between you two. Where Spider-Man had taken over your lives, so much to the point where he couldn’t work. One income to support both of you with occasional photographs sold to the Daily Bugle. It had been rough. 

Exhaustion sat deep in both of your bones. Peter’s face was bruised more often than not. Constantly on the mend after dealing with issue after issue. You taking on as much work as you possibly could to make ends meet. It killed him seeing you doing this, even trying to take on a second job. 

But for the greater good, this is just how it had to be. For a bit. 

Agreeing this year that no gifts would be for the best, just spending time with one another, having a great dinner and watching Christmas films all day long. It was going to be great. 

And it was. You two had a wonderful day, enjoyed a delicious dinner that you cooked together, even spent some time on the phone with family and friends. Now, you two were lounging on the sofa, snuggled under a blanket, sipping hot chocolate and enjoying Elf. 

Peter was acting jumpy and despite your best efforts to ignore it, you just couldn’t. Giggles flew from you as you poked his side, seeing the smirk take over his face at your actions. “Alright, Parker, I’m biting. What’s going on with you?” In no time at all, he jumped from the couch. 

Returning from the bedroom, both of his arms were behind him as he ventured back out to where you sat. “Peter,” you took a beat, staring him down as he sat back on the couch, arms still behind him, “what do you have?” 

His nonchalant shrug as his attention focused back on the television gave you time to jump him. Your laughter mixed as he moved his arms to keep whatever it was in his hands out of your reach, pulling it around your body, above your head, back behind his back, just enjoying the true struggle you put up. 

When he finally decided you had enough, straddling his waist, your eyes grew misty as the tiny gift bag sat in front of your face. “Merry Christmas, my buggy girl.” Pouting, you lightly grabbed the red bad from his hands, dropping it onto his stomach as you stared down at him. 

“Pete, I-I didn’t get you anything,” he cut you off, putting the gift bag in your hands. “Shh, I know you didn’t and I didn’t want you to. You’ve done so much for us this past year, I needed to show you some sort of appreciation.” 

Sniffling, you pulled the tissue paper out of the bag, seeing a small jewelry gift box sitting at the bottom. Your hands reached in, feeling the soft box, pulling it out and quickly peeking back at the boy. He looked like a child on Christmas morning. It warmed your soul. Knowing that he wanted to do this for you one way or another. 

When you removed the top, a small gasp fell from your lips, eyes welling up again as you took in the earrings. There sat a pair of earrings, books, that had the title of your favorite book on them. It was the most thoughtful gift anyone had ever given you before. 

He lightly nudged you with his knee, causing you to bounce ever so slightly as you tried to peel your eyes away from the gift. “You like them? I found someone on that website you like so much. If not we can always return them and get you some-” you cut him off by wrapping your arms around his neck, smushing your mouth to his.

Feeling his laughter seep into you, shaking your bodies as he did, hands splayed across your back as he held you to him. “They’re amazing, sticky. Really, they’re the best gift I’ve ever gotten. I love you so much.” His hands moved from your back to your face, wiping away the tears. 

While nights like that made you realize how much you loved your partner and reminded you that no matter what you two would be there for each other, it was the average nights that had you in total bliss.

The nights when it was just you two, living your daily life, sharing the space of your person. Where you were sat on the couch, reading a novel that you had seen on social media, but despite the raving reviews you just couldn’t get into it. Peter sat opposite of you, reading some book on physics that you would never be able to understand no matter how much he tried to explain it to you. 

Deciding that you wanted his attention, you let out a sigh. Peeking over the cover of your book, you saw he hadn’t diverted his attention at all. Going again, this time just a tad louder than the last, his eyes briefly left his own text to glance at you. Ensure you are okay.

When he noticed that you were fine, he continued on. Another, louder sigh escaped your lips, head falling back, but Peter continued to ignore you. Having had enough of it, you crawled over to him, pushing down his book to get his attention to you. 

“Pay attention to me,” he rolled his eyes, closing the book and setting it on the coffee table next to you. His hands found home on your waist as you straddled him. Instantly crouching down to meet him, his warm palms slipped under your shirt, greeted by the smooth skin underneath. 

Deepening the kiss, you moaned as his hands continued their northern travels, cupping the supple flesh and tweaking your perked nipples. Slow and lazy were the kisses shared, movements basic and comforting, nothing extravagant and perplexing. Home. 

Breaths shallow and constant, naked against one another, riding him like it was your second job. Admiring you like the most magnificent species of woman he had ever had the pleasure of laying eyes upon. Captivated by your utter beauty. Eyelids so heavy they could hardly remain open to see who laid beneath you, but you knew the feel of him like it was your second skin.

Hands braced on his chest, chasing your highs, feeling the pull of you to him, your mouths met once again as they slowly washed over you. Nothing so intense that you couldn’t come to mere seconds later, but simply a release for both to enjoy tonight.

These were the nights you adored with him. You could only hope for a lifetime of them together. 

Plopping down on the couch with your still far too dirty clothes, boxes stacked as high as the ceiling surrounding you both, you felt the tiredness sitting deep in your bones. You had tried making a dent on them while Peter ran out to grab dinner, but you still had mountains to go.

Hearing the door open, you peeked around the corner to see him making his way in, french fry hanging out of his mouth, hat barely sitting on top of his head, hair a wild mess underneath. “Okay, I figured that since this is our first night here we needed to get something in the area. You know, start trying out the places.” 

Humming in response as he took his seat next to you, one large hand landing on your leg as he did, he showed you the takeout bag. “Burger #12?” You read out loud, staring at him with confusion evident in your eyes. He shrugged, removing the contents and handing you one burger from the bag. 

“I mean if there are other eleven Burger restaurants they must be doing something right!” You had to agree with him, sinking your teeth into the meat and being enthralled when the delicious tastes washed over your tongue. Moaning, you immediately took another bite, giggling with your mouth full as Peter brought a napkin up to the corner of your mouth, wiping away the stray ketchup.

You two ate and discussed what still needed to be done around the apartment, trying to divide tasks up for the next couple of days before his phone went off on the counter. He stood, surveying the message and groaned. 

Rushing to the luggage that sat partially open in the corner of the room, he grabbed the suit, getting changed in the blink of an eye, shooting you a sheepish grin as he finished. “I gotta-” pointing at the open window, you waved him off with a roll of your eyes. 

“Go save the world, Spidey. I’ll be here when you get back.” He rushed over to where you still sat on the couch, planting a sloppy kiss on you, before jumping out the window. The thwip of his webs echoing into the night. 

Nope, not for you. You knew that the cream of the crop wasn’t what your dating pool would ever look like. Getting the best selection of people possible that you could hand pick from the sea of lovers that so desperately wanted you for their own. It made you snort just thinking about it. 

Of course, this isn’t 100% true for everyone, but it was true for you. Taking what you could get because you just assumed that this was as good as it was going to get. That these were the cards dealt by the universe and this was what you deserved. 

Now, your best friends on the other hand had no such fate as your own. They were the epitome of having the best of the best to choose from. That’s what having a leg up in the world did for you. Being literal rock stars worked in favor for you. Not a thing to worry about because if you didn’t like who was in your lap now, in a split second you could have something else. 

Two of the four didn’t fit into that category. Sam and Jake had seemingly found their person and were content with where they were. Danny was whoring around the world and was constantly invoking eyerolls from your end at the sheer ridiculousness of it and the tales he would share within your earshot. Sweet Josh was so happy by himself that he was galvanting his singleness around, enjoying being alone before he eventually fell into something with someone. 

Three of the four you were extremely overjoyed for. The Kiszka boys would always hold a special place in your heart. The other one? Not really. You weren’t even sure where and when it had started, but it was just the foundation your “relationship” was built on. The snarky, sarcastic, annoyed moods just seemed to wash over you whenever he entered the room. 

He was the same with you, too. It wasn’t one sided in the least. If you dished it out, he was giving it right back. For some reason, it was just how you two were with one another. You didn’t challenge it. 

Danny wanted nothing more than to challenge it. He despised this idea of a “relationship” with you. In fact, it drove him mad. He wasn’t the type of guy to openly express his feelings and maybe he had missed the turn to be able to do so with you, but now he was in a permanent purgatory hellscape of dealing with this.

Yet, he would take the shitty interactions because at least it was that. An interaction. A tiny sliver of a conversation with you. A way to have some form of communication with you. As long as he got to speak directly to you, he would put up with it. What he didn’t want to put up with however, was the douchebag that is Connor.

The entire group hated the guy. He was a downright asshole that you had been dating for over eight months. All of the time they had spent time with him was a reminder of how much the guy just sucked. Not to mention he treated you like absolute garbage, so much so that it drove everyone up the goddamn walls each time he opened his mouth to speak to you. 

No one could figure out why you put up with it. Knowing that there was someone, something better for you out there. You didn’t believe that. Connor was who the universe had put in your path for whatever reason so that’s who you stuck it out with. True love wasn’t a thing. You wouldn’t buy into the fantasy. 

After another incredibly tough evening out with the entire group, douche canoe in tow, Danny sat on Josh’s couch, nursing a hangover. Entirely veering off from the conversation they had been having just moments before about the night out, Danny cut Josh off mid sentence. “Why is goldie still with him? Haven’t you said anything to her? Did you see how he made her go to the bar each time he wanted another drink? And she paid each time!”

The nickname that had been donned on you when you fell into an obsession with the Golden Girls in middle school, never wanting to watch anything else, was regularly used by the group. Only ever spoken with fondness. Unless Danny was using it to address you directly.

Josh plopped down next to him, shrugging at his concerns. “Listen, I’ve talked to her. More than once and I have reached a conclusion that I think everyone else has as well. It’s her life. She is actively choosing to stay with him no matter how much it sucks ass. I have said my peace to her regarding it. Now, I stay out of it. She’s a big girl and when she tires of it she’ll leave.” 

He didn’t like that answer, playing with the coffee mug in his hands. “Yeah and what if she doesn’t?” Josh loosed a deep breath and gave a beaming smile to his brother. “Then we plaster big ass smiles to our fucking faces and suck it up because that’s what she’s chosen.” 

Were you aware of how terrible Connor truly was? Yes and no. Was he as bad as they made him out to be each time they brought it up to you? Of course not. Behind closed doors, he was sweet when he wanted to be, serious when he needed to be, and he was like having an old friend around. You were just fine with that.

Sure, there were times where he was more of a dick than normal, but everyone has their bad days. His just happened to be in front of your friend group more often than not. Which didn’t help your case. Like just a month ago, the entire group went out to a celebratory dinner for the boys having completed their latest album.

Everyone dressed up to the nines, went to the fanciest restaurant you guys could find, and wined and dined all evening. It was a blast. Being able to take part in celebrating another job well done for your nearest and dearest friends. It was a small celebration for you as well, just a small secret whispered between you and your partner.

You had been offered a new position at work that was bundled with a significant pay raise and an office. You were going to have your own office which had you giddy with excitement. But because you didn’t want to undermine the boys and their evening, you kept it amongst yourselves. 

Connor even offered to pay your share of the bill for the evening. As the toast of the evening was spoken by Josh, beaming with pride at his siblings, you felt like your face was going to be permanently stretched this wide with the smile you had adorned all evening. 

When Josh went to take his seat, Connor stood from his. Your eyes widened, trying to pull him back down, but he shushed you. With your face burning from embarrassment, he started. “I just want to also offer my congratulations to you guys, but to goldie girl as well.” Everyone's faces contorted with confusion, looking upon you. Danny was seated right across from you and you couldn’t bring yourself to look into his eyes.

“She was offered an enormous promotion at work that she accepted, of course! What were, oh you said that there was something you were stoked for. What was it?” He nudged you as you forced a smile to your face. “An office,” he snapped his fingers as you had spoken so quietly no one had really heard. 

“An office! Yes, but the most important part is that she was offered a huge chunk of change. Big ass pay raise.” You wanted to absorb into the floor, not wanting the attention to be on you tonight, but everyone cheered for you. Waving everyone off, you tried to tamp it down. “I’m sorry, I didn’t want to share that tonight. Tonight’s about you guys!”

Josh had rounded the table, slinging an arm around you, kissing your cheek from behind. “Nonsense! We are celebrating all that this wonderful life has to offer and that includes our goldie girl.” You felt a real smile creep back on your lips at his words. Patting his arm, you leaned into the embrace, thanking everyone. 

As the server came back to the table, handing out the assortment of billfolds, yours was handed to Connor. Chatter amongst the group meant attention was elsewhere, but Danny was watching. Always watching. Observing how Connor patted every pocket he had before looking at you with a sheepish look.

“Baby, I’m so sorry. I forgot my wallet,” your eyes bugged out at him, picking up the bill and seeing the total. “Connor, you said you had this.” You two were on the brink of a massive fight as you slid your credit card into the billfold, holding a hand up to him to get him to stop talking, but he took it a step further, speaking louder. 

“God, I make one fucking mistake and suddenly the entire world caves in. We were having such a great night and there you go ruining it. You have got to be kidding me,” he rolled his eyes with a scoff, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back in his chair.

Your eyes were nearly bugging out of your head at his reaction, intense shame pummeling you at his words. You gave everyone a weary smile, quietly excusing yourself from the table, and walking out of the private room they had booked. When Danny went to speak, blood boiling, Josh cut him off, knowing the look in his eyes. 

“I think that is our cue.” Everyone stood from the table, silently shuffling out of the room, but Danny hung back, finally being alone with the boyfriend. Danny took your credit card out of the billfold, handing it back to him in silence, checking the total, and leaving cash in place. 

He took a deep breath, locking eyes with him. “You’re welcome.” Connor chuckled under his breath, not having stood from his seat, eyeing the drummer. “Ah, okay. Mr. Hero comes and saves the day for her. I see how it is, dude.” 

Danny gave a tight lipped smile, patting him on his shoulder as he left. “Don’t call me dude.” When he walked out of the restaurant, he saw you profusely apologizing to his brothers for Connor having ruined the night. Your hands were held by Josh’s, him giving reassuring squeezes before pulling you into a large hug.

Josh kissed the side of your head, pulling back when your boyfriend walked out and saw you. You looked right past Danny to him, narrowing your eyes and turning on your heel, and storming off to where you had parked the car. Danny cast a glance at the man, seeing as he stood still to his spot. 

“Do not let her walk alone to the car this late. Go,” Danny cocked his head in the direction you had walked off. Connor wanted to fight against his natural instinct to stay and let you deal with it, but with the intensity of Danny’s stare, he stalked off. 

That was just one example of that. 

It was earlier in the relationship when you had invited Connor to go to a bar you all loved to frequent together, wanting him to get to know everyone a little better. He agreed, but the entire evening all he had done was trash talk the place you all looked at as a second home. 

Rolling your eyes as he walked off to get another drink, you stirred your straw in your glass, pissed that he wasn’t even making an effort. Sam chuckled as he faced you. “Damn, tough crowd to please, huh?” You groaned, letting your head fall to your hand. “Sorry.” Was all you mumbled out, Josh rubbing your back.

You hardly saw Connor for the rest of the night. With the group continuing to disperse throughout the building, you sat at your designated booth, sipping your fruity drink with a pout on your lips. Danny took the seat next to you, but you shot a glare his way.

“What do you want?” You spoke out around the straw in your mouth. “Ah, just coming to check on my favorite lonely girl.” Your face went up in disgust at the words, but he still had that sly smirk plastered to his face. 

After not having seen Connor all night, your eyes finally found him. Leaning against the far end of the bar, back to you as he chatted with a girl. Her tits were sticking so far out of her shirt you could’ve sworn her areolas were visible. 

Danny’s gaze followed yours and took in a short breath, sipping his drink before he spoke. “Oh, there’s the asswipe! Over there flirting with TitsMcGee. Real nice,” you only shrugged, trying to play it off. “We haven’t had the seeing other people talk yet so it’s fine.” 

His eyes narrowed at you, chin tipping down to give you a look that all but said yeah okay whatever you say. Grunting, you slid out of the booth, flipping him off. “Whatever, I don’t owe you an explanation.”

Grumbling under your breath, you found Josh and leaned your head on his arm as he played a round of pool with Jake, waiting for his turn against the wall. His chest tightened with envy at the motion, wanting nothing more than to be in the place of Josh. 

Instead, he moved over to where Connor stood, clapping a hand roughly on his shoulder and speaking in his ear. “Hey, Connor! Don’t know if you remember or not, but you didn’t come here alone. Remember her?” He pointed over in your direction, beer bottle still in hand as he did. 

The girl's face went into shock as she eyed him. “You didn’t tell me you were with someone. Pig,” she said as she hurried off. Connor turned to face Danny, not near his looming height, but attitude ready to match his. “Look, dude, I was just talking with her. No harm done,” Danny’s fake smile was still on his lips.

“Course not. Now, go stand by your girlfriend for the rest of the night and keep her company.” Connor rolled his eyes, colliding with Danny’s arm for a hard hit as he went to move past him. Danny caught the same arm, speaking with a chillingly calm tone, “And don’t call me dude.” 

Danny despised how your face lit up as Connor approached you, letting him wrap an arm around you. Claiming you from him. It took every ounce of patience he had to reapproach the group, taking a round of pool with Sam. 

All you wanted was for everyone to get along. That’s why you invited Connor’s friend group to a kickback at Josh’s, wanting to get to know them better because despite having been dating for four months, you had only briefly met them once. Josh was all for getting to know Connor’s friends, insisting that they attend. 

What you didn’t expect was for the night to go so poorly that Connor’s friends were literally kicked out of Josh’s home and told they were not welcome back. You hadn’t really been near them that night, but when you had been they didn’t make much of an effort to talk with you. It was mainly awkward, but it always was when you were meeting new people.  

That’s why when you watched as Josh escorted the group to the front door from the backyard, you had no idea what had happened. Pestering Josh, he refused to say. Which was only further indication that whatever it was, had been so offensive, Josh had kicked them out. 

Josh!

It wasn’t brought up again and you never took the initiative to invite them over when the group would hang out. Not worth the uncomfortable tension. Instead, you tried to keep things separate to the best of your ability. 

That was one of the main reasons no one really brought up the fact that they utterly despised your partner of choice, but it was brought up one afternoon as you lounged on Josh’s couch. He was sitting on the opposite end of the long sectional, pursuing his phone, but pulled your attention when he suddenly remembered something.

“I totally forgot to tell you.” Your head lazily turned in his direction, not entirely interested in what he was saying, honestly too high to be dealing with anything. “Danny was pissed off about how Connor acted the other night at the bar.” Your brow furrowed, slightly sitting up at his words. “Huh?”

He tossed his phone down, attention fixating on the television, but nodded. “Oh yeah. You should’ve heard the rant he went on about the guy. He hates him,” since Josh was also partaking in vaping with you this afternoon, he fell into a mess of laughter beside you as his words tapered off. 

It left you puzzled for the rest of the day. If there was anyone you wouldn’t assume cared about Connor, it was most definitely Danny. You had never seen them interact honestly. How could he hate him? Typical Danny. Making a decision before even knowing all the facts or, in this case, the person. 

This was just one of the reasons why you didn’t particularly enjoy Danny’s company. There had been plenty of interactions that only confirmed your disregard for the boy was well warranted. For example, the time at the studio when you had touched his drums. 

The boys had been recording, inviting you along for the Sunday session, but you were utterly bored. You weren’t sure where they had ventured off to, but a small break had you wandering into the recording booth where Josh stood, checking over the lyrics and notes.

You snickered, going over to the drummer's stool and sitting. “Hey look. I’m Danny,” taking the poses he often did as he played, Josh was giggling as he watched you. His eyebrows shot up though, quickly telling you to get off the seat as the door opened. Danny’s eyes went wide as he saw you standing from his seat.

“What-what are you doing? Are you fucking kidding me? Do you have any idea how long it takes me to get this set up just right for recording” He shoved past you, anger coursing through him at your careless actions. Which in your mind weren’t careless at all. 

You crossed your arms, eyeing him at his overdramatic breakdown which was for naught. “Relax, all I did was sit in the seat and hold your sticks. That’s all. Josh can vouch for me that I didn’t touch your precious drums.” He shot daggers at you anyways, pushing hair out of his face as he readjusted his seat.

“Does she have to be here?” He asked directly to Josh, but you went to the boy, wrapping your arms around him and giving the biggest smile you could to Danny. “Of course. Josh always needs me here.” Batting your eyelashes at him, he rolled his eyes, mumbling under his breath at you as you went and took your seat once again. 

Danny’s eyes never left you for the remainder of the day.

Your car was always something that everyone teased you for. It was an older car for sure, but you fully believed in using something until it absolutely could not do its job anymore. Your car was running just fine. 

Did it sometimes stall out or break down in the middle of traffic? Very rarely. Today just happened to be one of those days. You groaned as you realized that you were going to have to get out and push it, cars honking behind you like that was going to help the situation.

When you got out, you were immediately met with his curly hair bouncing as he jogged over to where you stood next to your car. Shaking your head as he approached you, you turned away. “Alright, let’s push it.” You refused to look at him as he moved towards the back of the car. 

“Fuck! Nope, no, it’s okay. I have a guy-someone coming,” Danny shot you an unamused look. “I’m not playing around, come on!” He shouted, but you didn’t want to give in by asking him for help because you knew he would just use it against you in the future. 

Scratching your head, you looked at him, hand shielding your eyes from the sun. “I got it. There's a gas station like a mile down, so don’t worry about it.” He didn’t wait for you any longer, knowing you had already put the car in neutral, he began pushing much to your dismay.

You grumbled, helping him at your door, steering as you did. “When was the last time this piece of shit was serviced?” Danny asked, but you were focused on pushing. “Not that long ago! I know how to take care of my vehicle, thank you very much.”

A sarcastic laugh fell from him. “Yeah and that’s why your service sticker on your windshield says you were due months ago.” You ignored him, flipping him off in your mind. When you got the car to a safer spot, he already had his phone out requesting service. 

Crossing your arms, you refused to look at him as he stood right next to you, blocking the sun from your vision. “You can go now.” You spoke out, looking at your shoes. His own arms mimicked yours. “You can say thank you, you know?” 

Biting back a snarky return, you looked up at him with a fake smile, “Thank you.” His hand ruffled your hair, but you smacked it away with a groan. “Anytime, goldie.” He turned on his heel, heading back to his own car. 

Danny sat and waited to ensure that a tow truck was actually on its way and when it had loaded your car, he finally left. Smiling to himself because he had gotten you to say thank you. Even if it was a sarcastic thank you, it was still a thanks. 

Despite not giving him an actual thank you, you were grateful. You just couldn’t show it to him. The man who challenged you at every turn, every chance he could. Even with things that he knew you were best at. Like baking. 

A dinner party put on by Jake and Jita which had a different style than normal had you signing up for dessert. Each course was to be cooked at the house, in order, by a different pair. A cooking and baking standoff. Of course, Danny had also signed up for dessert.

You scowled at him the entire time, especially when you both got to the kitchen to begin. His curls held up in a loose ponytail, some curls framing his face, sweater sleeves rolled up, you fought not to look at his arms. 

When the fuck did Danny get built? 

Pushing the thought out of your head, you went into competition mode. You and Danny rubbed elbows the entire time, you shoving him every once and awhile, telling him to move over because he was encroaching on your space. 

As you waited for the dessert to exit the oven, you were making your icing and decorations. From the corner of your eye, you could see him watching you. When he bumped into you again, you almost lost it. 

“I swear to god, if you knock into me one more time, I will hurt you.” Danny nodded at your words, grabbing a handful of flour and smiling at you. “Oh yeah? What if I were to do this?” He threw the flour directly at you, coating your face, hair, and apron. When you opened your eyes, he had that same stupid smirk on his face. 

Jita entered the kitchen at the exact moment you went to grab the milk, immediately halting you. “No! Absolutely not in my kitchen.” The oncoming food fight halted right in its tracks at her words. Speaking through gritted teeth you eyed him. “Can you at least grab me a damp towel please?” 

He nodded, moving towards the sink and grabbing a towel as he did. When the wet fabric slapped against your skin, drenching you in the process, you nearly lunged at him. Without any time to, your timer went off to grab your food from the oven. 

As you removed yours, you smiled to yourself as you saw his still rising. Grabbing the handle, you pulled the door open, slamming it shut right after, and watching as his dessert entirely sank. Feeling satisfied with the retaliation, you turned and saw his jaw hanging.

“You just ruined my dessert!” You shrugged, feigning innocence at his words. “Oh my bad. I thought that was my oven.” Smirking as you decorated yours, plating it, and waltzing out of the kitchen, you placed the tray in the center of the table. 

Oh’s and ah’s flowed around the room as you beamed at your creation. When Danny set his sad display down, you had to bite back a laugh. “Well, I think it’s safe to say that this one goes to goldie. Hardly even a competition,” Jake bellowed out, nearly choking on his own laughter. 

You were walking on air the rest of the night. Danny was fine with the loss. He sat with a grimace the rest of the night, but only to play into the part. He knew he had no chance of winning, not against you. Why wouldn’t he have some fun with it?

That was the key to your group. Having fun. Anyways you guys could, that was the goal. That varied week by week, but tonight it meant everyone was curled up in Sam’s living room having a Shrek marathon. Snacks being passed around, you were sharing the floor space with Josh, splitting a milkshake, two incredibly long straws went to each other’s mouths. 

Everyone wore pajamas, there were insane amounts of blankets and pillows just strewn about. Your hand grabbed some licorice, but as you bit into it, you watched as Sam’s head peeked from the edge of the couch to catch your gaze.

His finger poked your cheek as he smiled. “Your birthday is next week.” Batting his hand away you leaned back into your pillows. “What about it?” You mumbled as you chewed. “What’re we doing? Does Conrad have anything planned?” 

Giving him an unamused look, you focused your attention back to the screen. “Connor and I’m not sure. He hasn’t said anything. I’m not a birthday person anyways, you know that.” He only hummed in response. Danny’s eyes were fixated on you from his side of the couch. 

Trying to figure out what he could do for you for your birthday that was appropriate for the situation you two were in. Flaming bag of dog shit at your front door seemed about right. It was all he thought about the rest of the night. 

When your birthday came the following week, you smiled as you woke up to calls and texts from family and friends sending you birthday wishes. This was just like any other day for you, the only difference was your free drink at Starbucks instead of having to pay for it. Continuing on with your normal day, you were slightly down as you checked your phone.

Not one message from Connor. 

You were interrupted when one of the clerks came to your office, knocking on the door and pulling your attention to her. “Birthday girl has a delivery!” Brows furrowed in confusion, you followed her out. 

There sat a tremendous bouquet of your favorite flowers. All of the office girls were giddy as they wanted to see the full extent of the gigantic vase and its fillings. Your cheeks burned as you thanked everyone and retreated back to your office. With the door shut soundly behind you, you pulled the card out and glowed at the message. 

Only the best for the golden girl who has captured my heart. With all my love I wish you the happiest of birthdays, sweet girl. 

No name signed. You clutched the card to your chest, feeling your heart rate heighten. You didn’t think Connor was capable of doing something like this. And here you were cursing him just minutes earlier for forgetting. Of course he wouldn’t forget. 

Then why didn’t he call? All day you had sat waiting for something, anything. Yet it was radio silence all damn day. Like he would’ve sent you those flowers and not gloated about it. Not a chance. 

When you crawled into bed on the verge of tears, you decided that you were too furious to even try and go to bed. You knew Josh had told you that he was going to be living at the studio that week to get some additional work done, so that’s where you headed. 

Sorely upset when you barged into the building and seeing no one inside, you grabbed your phone to call him, but jumped when a voice sounded from behind you. “Hey, happy birthday.” 

Glowering at him, you kept your eyes attached to your phone. “Yeah, not really. Do you know where Josh is, Danny?” He took a seat at the sound board with a groan. “Left a couple hours ago. What’s wrong? Why so glum, sugar plum?” 

Another dirty look in his direction, you took the seat opposite of him. “Just want to talk to Josh is all.” He hummed in false deep thought. “Is that so?” Biting your tongue, you responded, “Yup.” Popping the “p” at the end of your abrupt response had him leaning forward. 

“Cause what I’m guessing happened is Sir Jackass forgot your birthday. That’s why you’re here looking for Josh, right? To vent to him about how horrible your boyfriend is. How he could possibly forget such an important day.” Your nostrils flared at his words, staring at him through your eyelashes. “Shut the fuck up, Danny. I’m not in the mood.”

He leaned forward some more, catching your eye. “There’s a real simple solution to this problem, you know? Fucking leave the man. If you weren’t with him, you wouldn’t be going through this. Problem solved.” A bitter laugh bubbled up at his words. 

“Don’t comment on something you have no knowledge on. Don’t you have a bimbo to go stick your dick in and leave me the fuck alone?” The blow didn’t harm him in the least, sliding by that comment all together. “Really, no knowledge? Yet, this seems to be a fairly regular occurrence. You need to treat yourself better. Do something about it instead of feeling bad for yourself.”

Anger licked at your veins, body temperature rising as you shot up from your seat, staring down at the boy. “Because Danny is just the be all end all of everything, right? You fucking know it all, don’t ya? You know, where do you get the goddamn balls to go sticking your nose in places it shouldn’t be?” He remained quiet, letting you get the hurt and anger out now. He would be your punching bag. 

“Not everyone gets the cream of the crop to choose from, Danny! Not all of us have people falling at their feet just begging to have a chance. We are not the same.” He stood at the end, eyebrows shooting up. 

Blinking up at him, you were rooted to your spot, ready for the challenge. His voice was low, not a hint of rage in his tone. “Maybe you need to take a look around. You might be surprised by what you see, goldie.” 

You left the studio shaking with irritation and bewilderment. What the hell did that even mean? Take a look around. At what? At who? You spent the remainder of the week stewing on that. Trying to figure out what he had meant. 

Josh had sent you a text one evening, telling you that on Saturday you needed to be at his place by seven that night. Entirely forgetting that your birthday had been that week, that your birthday was the cause of that blowout with Danny. Not piecing together why he had invited you over.

It was given away as you saw the million cars parked on his street, lights shutting off as you arrived. When you got to the front door you could clearly hear Josh shushing people, whisper yelling that you were at the door. Him being inebriated was obvious as well. 

Bracing yourself for the group on the other side, you played into the game as you opened the door. “Hey, Josh! Oh man, why are the lights off?” Your monotone voice was comical as you flicked the lights on, being greeted with a large group. Everyone adorned birthday hats, kazoos, and drinks in hand. 

Laughing, you saw Josh jumping for joy as he rushed you, sweeping you into his embrace. “Happy birthday, goldie!” Your thanks was muffled by giggles, starting to go around and thank everyone for coming. Entirely ignoring Danny whose face was anything but excited to be there, you went to grab a drink with Jake.

Connor wrapped his arms around you from behind, the smell of booze wafting off of him in waves. “Hap-happy birthday, baby.” Not wanting to make a scene, you let him hug you before lightly pushing him off. He made no other efforts to talk to you all night, instead finding home with a small group of his own friends. 

Nudging Josh, you smirked. “Let them back into your home?” His rosy cheeks went up as his smile grew. “Just to get him to leave us alone for the night. As long as they don’t cause any problems, we’re good.” Your hand cupped his cheek, lightly pecking it before pulling him into another hug.

“Thank you for the party, Josh.” He chuckled, tightening you in his grasp, but spoke over the now booming music. “Well, you’re welcome, but it was mainly-” he was cut off by Jake grabbing you for a game of beer pong happening on the back porch. 

The entire night was a blast. Just being surrounded by your closest friends had your mood improving tenfold as the evening carried on. Music was thumping, laughter echoing off the walls, and booze flowing freely. This was exactly how you wanted to celebrate your birthday. 

Danny was a fly on the wall the entire time. In such a shit mood he didn’t want to be around anyone really. Despite seeing the gleaming smile you had worn all night, he was furious about what had happened a few nights ago. How did you not see it? 

His thoughts were cut off as he overheard the ongoing conversation happening next to him. There Connor stood with his god awful friends, babbling incoherently, but the second your name fell from his lips, Danny was intently listening. 

“Yeah man, she was fre-freaking out because I forgot her fuc-fucking birthday. What is she, five?” He was slurring his words and laughing through them as his friends egged him on, but without realizing it, Danny had entered their circle. 

His grip tightened on the bottle in his hand, knuckles going white as he narrowed his eyes on the guy. Unamused look stuck to his face, tongue running over his teeth. “You kn-know how long it’s be-been since we’ve had sex? Me forgetting,” he used air quotes around the word as he hiccuped before continuing on, “is my little punis-punishment for her acting like this.” His eyebrows shot up, nodding his head as his friends agreed with him.

Danny gave a smile to him, feigning friendliness. “Acting like what, Connor?” His eyes never left the swaying figure as he stood casually, one hand tucked in a pocket, the other setting his beer bottle down. Connor scoffed, trying to get Danny away from him. “Stay out of this bird boy.” 

His friends laughed tirelessly at the remark, but Danny chuckled with them, taking a step closer to him. Connor’s face lit up with realization, a finger poking into Danny’s chest. “Wa-wait! Actually, if anything you know how I feel about her!” Danny nods, encouraging him to go on. 

“Okay. Say it to my face then. How is she acting?” Connor chokes on a laugh, uttering the words haphazardly. “Like a bitch, dude.” It happened in a split second, but Danny’s arm had cocked back, barreling forward, and connected his fist with Connor’s nose, a loud crunch and shout silencing the room. 

Connor fell back onto the coffee table, immediately getting drenched with the forgotten drinks sitting atop it. Blood poured from his nose, but Danny’s figure loomed over him still. Gasps had echoed out, music stopping, no one moving as they waited for the next move. 

“Danny!” You yelled out, eyes wide in shock at what you had just seen. Jita’s hand gripped your arm tightly, her own face paralleling yours. Josh and Sam had crossed the room, placing firm grasps on their brother and trying to pull him away as Sam spoke, “Let’s take a breather, Danny.” 

When Connor pointed back at Danny, hand still cradling his nose, everyone waited with baited breath. “Fucker broke my nose!” Danny pulled free from the boy's grips and stood over him again. His voice dripping with disdain, you didn’t miss the tremble of his hands. 

“Next time you run your mouth like that it’ll be a lot fucking worse. Take that as your warning and get the fuck out of here. I don’t want to see your fucked up face again, understand?” He scrambled to get up from his spot, friends helping him up, but he spoke once more before making his exit.

“You’re fucking psycho, dude! She’s yours man. She ain’t fucking worth this shit. Fucking crazy ass people.” He was mumbling as he hastily stumbled from the house, the residence still drenched in silence.  

Danny’s eyes met yours, how big and glossy they were as they peered at him, trying to silently communicate about what had happened. He swallowed thickly, knowing everyone was waiting for an explanation. “He called me dude. I told him I don’t like being called dude.” His eyes never parted from yours as he spoke, but you knew that wasn’t it.

Not with Danny. Something as trivial as that wouldn’t make him snap. 

The rest of the night, he was continuously swarmed by people, pestering him with questions about what had happened. He refused to answer any by anyone who asked, even his own brothers. The one person he truly wanted to come and talk to him was avoiding him like the plague. 

Being on edge for the remainder of the evening meant you couldn’t settle back down and enjoy the company of those around you. Instead, you stared off into the distance and tried to understand the events that had unfolded. You had heard what Connor said. 

She’s yours.

What the fuck would make him say that to Danny of all people? Josh you could kind of understand because of how close you two were, but Danny? It didn’t make a lick of sense. As the night dwindled down, people continuously left and offered happy birthday wishes as they filed out of the home. 

Aiding in taking down the decorations that were sloppily put up along all of the walls, you could hear your friends downstairs arguing over who got the last of the birthday cake, knowing they were going to be drawing funny things on Josh’s face because he had long since passed out on the couch. 

The bathroom door opened and out walked Danny, knuckles lightly bruised, but a tiny bandage covered one cut. Not very well. He stopped dead in his tracks as he set sight on you. Setting the trash bag down, you motioned to one of the guest rooms, entering and hearing Danny follow you in, shutting the door quietly behind him.

Turning and facing him, you were on the offense. Arms crossed over your chest, refusing to back down, you stared him down. “You need to tell me what happened tonight.” His hands tucked into his pockets, rocking on his heels, shaking his head. “No.”

Scoffing, you felt the irritation bubbling in your gut. “Daniel! I’m not fucking around. If anyone deserves to know it’s me! I’m pretty sure my relationship ended tonight because of you. Knock it off and just tell me.” You weren’t sure which part of your statement ticked him off, but you watched him explode. 

“Alright, fine! You want to know? The son of a bitch was running his mouth, said something about you that he shouldn’t have, and he got knocked on his ass for it! Any further questions?” You were more confused than before. “What did he say?” Your tone had evened out, voice dropping into a near whisper as you spoke. 

Your eyes were drawn to his injured hand, not seeing his face when he replied to you. “No, I won’t repeat that.” Nodding in silence, you slowly went towards him, reaching for his hand. When you gingerly grabbed it, he put up no fight.

Fingers rubbing gently against the forming bruises, your brows furrowed. “Does it hurt?” He shrugged, trying to fight against the goosebumps that were erupting all over his body at the simplest of touches from you. When you finally tilted your head back to peer up at him, his gaze was already on you.

It was a split second reaction, leaning up to reach him and feeling his lips brush against your own for the first time. You had never felt anything like it. Something you had only read about. Nothing that could’ve ever been real. Entirely ridiculous. 

So why was it actually happening?

You didn’t want it to end. Instead, your hands moved to his neck, one cupping the back and pushing him further towards you and the other moved to his jaw. The incredibly sharp feature was rock solid in your trembling hand. 

His were entirely steady. Not a shake to be found as he deepened the kiss, crushing you to his body. Tongue swiping across your own, your entire body shook, a chill wracking your spine. He moved you towards the bed and when you felt your knees hit the edge, you immediately laid. 

Danny didn’t break away, but followed you, chasing you. Not wanting to let you go for even a second. You had each other stripped unbelievably fast, a total blur, and a meshing of flesh. Your brain couldn’t catch up to the movements you were making. 

Hooking your legs around his hips, you couldn’t wait another minute. “Danny, please. I need you, now. Please,” it was breathless and moaned out, your cunt throbbing with pleasure as you tried to get him in you as fast as you could. 

His fingers pinched your chin, forcing your eyes to connect with his as he slid into you. Your eyes slammed shut, mouth falling agape, not a single noise emitting from you. He refused to move another inch until your eyes reopened and connected with his.

“Eyes on me, sweet girl.” You froze at the term of endearment, but you had no time to dwell on it because he continued his motions further, shutting up any thoughts you could’ve had. It was slow, unrushed, but deep, warming you from your head to toes. 

It was something you couldn’t have even begun to think was possible. Something you had only seen in those stupid ass movies where the actress sees stars behind her eyes as her finish washes over her. It was even more intense for you, all muscles seizing and contorting in waves of pleasure you had never known were possible. Something you had only read in romance novels where you could feel the emotions crashing into you with every thrust of his hips as he chased his own release. His body trembled like he was rocked by an earth shattering earthquake, silencing his moans into your awaiting mouth.

Bodies stuck together with sweat, sweeping his curls from his eyes, you were seeing the deep brown swirls peering down at you in awe. Like this was a dream he was having. Needing to be told that this was true and real. That the threshold had been crossed between you two in ways you had never imagined could have. 

His chest heaved as he tried to catch his breath, scared to look away from you and take in the scene around him. Your hands still held his cheeks in your warm hands, tugging him back towards you and connecting in a slow kiss. 

You didn’t have much time, hurrying to redress after realizing that all of your closest friends were downstairs, probably waiting for you since this was your party. It was silent except for the noise echoing downstairs. Moving towards the door, you grabbed Danny’s wrist to stop him from leaving. 

Placing a chaste kiss on his cheek, you whispered, the door opened just a crack, “Thank you, Danny.” You slipped out before he could respond, leaving him stunned and rooted to his spot to figure out what had just happened. 

You didn’t see or hear from Danny for the next week. You weren’t sure you were supposed to be hearing from him. What was the protocol now? The longer the week went on without so much as a peep from him, you called Connor. 

He reluctantly showed up, a knock out drag out fight to end the fucked up relationship that this had been. He had hardly put up much of a fight with regards to your relationship ending, but more on the part of how horribly he had treated you. You were entirely exhausted by the end of the night, Connor long since gone, but your body ached.

Craving the person you had never thought you would want in such a way. Not understanding why he wouldn’t want to call you. He had called you sweet girl. You had stared at the notecard from the flowers every single night since then. Was he lying just to get you into bed? No, that wasn’t Danny.

Was it?

Your fist collided with the wood, repeatedly hitting it until the door finally pulled open. A confused Danny stood on the other side, discontent dissipating as he saw who was making the ruckus at his home. It didn’t last very long because he could see the fury painted on your face.

Not uttering a word, he moved to let you enter his house. Storming in, you threw your coat onto the back of the couch, arms crossed soundly over your chest. He faced you, not wanting to overstep by speaking first. It was obvious you had come with a purpose, he didn’t want to take away from that.

“Why don’t you love me?” It came sure and strong. More of a declaration than a question. His features morphed to one of shock at your question. Looking around at his surroundings, he turned in a small circle, a breathless chuckle leaving him. “You have got to be kidding me. Goldie, are you serious?” 

Refusing to back down, you only nodded. “For fucks sake, I’m in love with you! I’ve been in love with you for I don’t know how long. I thought you hated me, why would I risk telling you a damn thing when you acted like you did towards me?”

Fuck. You had fucked up. You recognized that now as you stood here seeing the emotions waft over his features and eyes, tumbling out in a pure confession. “I-I don’t know.” You mumbled, unsure of what else you could say. 

“I’m so in love with you that I was willing to take the shitty ‘relationship’ we had because it was better than nothing. It was you interacting with me and talking to me. I needed at least that.” Your eyes welled with tears as he continued on, feeling your soul rip apart as the realization of horribly you had treated him dawned on you. 

How could you not have seen this?

“And I had to watch you throw yourself into something you of all people did not deserve. Do you know how miserable that was for us? What I had to do to keep that fucker in check?” Your tears cascaded down your cheeks, but you shook your head, not understanding. “Wha-what?”

Danny’s hands were planted on his hips, head shaking as he replayed all of those encounters in his mind. “It-it doesn’t matter. I should’ve done that a long time ago. I don’t regret it. And I do love you, goldie. I do.”

Your hand reached into your pocket and pulled out the note, crossing the room to hand it to him. He took it gingerly from you, not looking you in the eye as he did. “Did you send the flowers to my work, Danny?” 

Nodding his head, you didn’t hesitate or waste another minute, throwing yourself into his embrace. His lips were on yours instantly, tasting the salty tears that coated your face, but he didn’t care and neither did you. “I’m so sorry. I’m sorry,” you babbled through more tears, but he shook his head, holding your face in his hands, wanting you to look at him.

“We have nothing but time, sweet girl. Nothing but time.” You nodded, pulling him towards you once more, savoring the electric currents that flowed through you at the connection with him. The same connection that you had thought was once only a work of fiction. A sales tactic, but no.