occasionally subtle
Love Begins
taylor price
Not today Justin
EXPECTATIONS
Cosimo Galluzzi
RMH
noise dept.
roma★
pixel skylines
Game Changer & Make Some Noise
oozey mess
KIROKAZE
Keni
YOU ARE THE REASON
No title available
No title available
#extradirty
Monterey Bay Aquarium
shark vs the universe
seen from Russia
seen from Bangladesh
seen from Serbia
seen from Malaysia
seen from India
seen from Bangladesh
seen from Ecuador
seen from Germany
seen from United States
seen from Türkiye
seen from Argentina
seen from Netherlands
seen from United States
seen from Indonesia
seen from United States
seen from Iraq
seen from Bangladesh
seen from Indonesia
seen from United States
seen from Canada
@serenecrest
i saw someone saying on twitter about a woman who said that her boyfriend was so nervous when propose her that he forgot everything and ended up just getting on his knees saying “please”.
i hope every writer who reads this makes the best of it
Daydreaming | Rafael Barba x F!Reader
Main Masterlist | Read Me On AO3!
Pairing: Rafael Barba x F!Reader
Summary: Sometimes, you can't help but objectify the ADA who has turned your head. Not when he looks that good. Lucky for you, he is just as obsessed with giving you what you want as he is with winning cases.
Warnings: Smut (18+), porn without plot, office sex, mentions of murder (that has nothing to do with the porn), established relationship, mentioned unprotected p in v, mentioned choking, body appreciation (is that a warning? i don't even know), mentions of blowjob, implied soft!dom!Rafael, oral f!receiving (that man eats pussy like it's his last meal don't argue), coming untouched, sexting, fluff
WC: 1.9k
A/N: Heh. Hi. I'm new here. Not to Tumblr (I’ve been a Daredevil Fic Writer for 3 years now), but to the SVU fandom. First time writing for Rafael, too. Bit scary, not gonna lie, but he came on screen, put a belt around his neck, and I fell in love. He's my new blorbo. I'd die for him. I'd kill for him. I do not want to talk about The Undiscovered Country. I just need to love this man, be loved by this man, and let this man do unspeakable things to me. With his slutty little outfits. Fuck him. Literally. This is inspired by that dress shirt suspenders sleeves rolled up situation he had going on that one episode in Season 18. I am not sorry. Don't have a tag list for him yet, but I'm working on something else right now (something a lot longer), so I might start one then. This was written in, like, 2 hours, but I hope you like it anyway!
The way he looked should have been illegal.
He stood behind his desk in that tight-fitting dress shirt you loved so much, with those brown suspenders holding his perfectly tailored trousers up by the hem while simultaneously keeping them hanging dangerously low on his hips, and his shirt sleeves rolled up far enough to reveal every last vein stretching from his forearms to the back of his wildly gesturing hands.
The streaks of grey in his dark hair glistened in the usually so unflattering ceiling light as it danced over every inch of his tan skin. You sat there and counted them one by one, wondering what he would look like in a few years when it would all go grey and maybe, just maybe, you could convince him to grow out his beard. It would be grey, too, you thought. It would be grey and it would be beautiful because either way, it would match his piercing green eyes.
It wasn’t fair how good he looked without even trying. And he wasn’t trying, by any means. He wasn’t trying to look good or sound like sex personified while talking about a gruesome murder you were still gathering evidence for, but he still managed to do so.
You shifted a little further back in your seat to ease the erratic pulse between your thighs—to no avail.
That nose… sometimes, you looked at him and all you could think was, I want to sit on his face. You knew how good it felt when it rubbed against your clit. When his tongue was so deep inside you that you were starting to fuse.
You would have spread your legs for him right there if he’d asked, if he’d commanded you. You would have let him dive in and eat you out. You would have done the same for him, too, gotten on your knees right there and then, putting his thick cock into your hot mouth and sucking him off until he was writhing beneath you. You would have let him grab your hair and push you up against the wall, the fireplace, or one of those huge windows that gave him a perfect view of the city, and the city a perfect view of you.
You would have let him fuck you from behind in front of all of New York City until his cum was seeping out of you. Hell, you would even have let him wrap those long, slender fingers around your throat while he was pounding into you over and over and—
“Are you even listening to me?”
You snapped out of it. “I’m sorry, what?”
The corners of his mouth twitched, and fuck him, he put his hands on his hips as if he knew exactly what you'd been daydreaming about.
“You okay?” he asked.
You bit your lip. Why did he have to be standing? This way, you had a perfect view of his waist, his perfect tummy, and God, his—
“Cariño?” he sounded a little more concerned now.
“I'm fine,” you choked out. “What were you saying?”
You needed a cold shower, or a gun to your head. You just had to drop off some files after your shift, knowing he would be busy for a little while longer. You wanted to see him, yes, but this was more professional than personal. Except that it was personal. It always was with him.
Fuck. Now you were wet and embarrassed.
“I was saying that I need more evidence,” he said. “I couldn't even convene a Grand Jury with what you have so far.”
“You always need more evidence,” you said.
“Because I want a guilty verdict, not to be humiliated by a public defender in open court.”
He was always so wound up. It was sexy but utterly exhausting, considering you were trying to do your job right.
“Well,” you rose to your feet, “once I've figured out how to make evidence magically appear out of thin air, I'll get back to you. But first, I'm gonna need some sleep.”
He said your name in that low tone of his that always made goosebumps travel like dominoes down your spine. You stopped.
“C'mere,” he said.
“Why?”
“Because I know you've been daydreaming about my head between your legs for the past ten minutes, and I'd like to spend the next ten giving you exactly what you want.”
Oh.
Oh.
“Rafael,” you gasped.
He smirked, reaching a hand out to you. “Come here,” he echoed, firmer this time.
He smelled like sandalwood and coffee. Like heaven and hell. Like home.
Rafael cupped your face. “Hi,” he whispered.
“Hi,” you whispered back.
Every time he looked at you, you found yourself drowning in his eyes. They were always so soft with you, so gentle and loving and full of a kind of passion—lust, even—you had never experienced before. You'd never been wanted like this before, and it was utterly terrifying yet so incredibly fulfilling at the same time.
“Can I kiss you?” he asked.
You barely managed a nod.
He didn't waste another second, leaning in to brush his lips against yours. It was nothing more than that, just a brush, the softest of kisses. You tried chasing him for more, but he pulled away.
Rafael placed his thumb against your bottom lip. “Shh,” he cooed. “It's gonna be a while 'til I can get out of here, so…” He traced his other hand up your thigh and under the sundress you'd decided to change into.
“So?” you asked.
“Sit your ass on my desk and spread your legs for me.”
Fuck his silver tongue. Literally.
You complied almost instantly, and he was on you like a man possessed just as fast. His lips crashed into yours. His hand tangled in your hair and pulled, hard, so your head was angled back. Teeth scraped down your throat to your collarbone, then back up to your lips.
A moan slipped past yours into his mouth, and Rafael swallowed it like it was the best meal he'd ever had. He was getting hard in his slacks, but he didn't even let you think about touching him.
Oh, if there was one view you could never get sick of, it was the sight of Rafael Barba on his knees.
“Rafa,” you breathed.
You couldn't get more vulnerable if you tried.
He shushed you again. Spanish curses tumbled from his lips. You could have sworn you heard him pray to God at the mere sight of the wet patch on your panties, and when he glanced up at you, pure adoration was all there was.
“You're beautiful,” he branded those words into your skin with his breath.
His fingers dug into your thighs as he threw them over his broad shoulders, his lips drawing trails of fire up and down the inside of your thighs, though every time he got close enough to your throbbing cunt, he pulled away again. He covered every last inch of you in him. He consumed you, and then, only then, when you were quivering from the sheer force of his lips on your skin, did he push your underwear aside.
And he feasted.
You cried out so suddenly and so fucking loudly that he reached up and slapped his hand in front of your mouth. He loved it whenever you screamed his name, but he couldn't let Carmen walk in on you like this. He didn't want the entire DA's office to know that he was eating you out, that he got you like this, because you were his and no one else's to enjoy.
You grabbed his hair.
That godforsaken nose.
Yes.
Fuck.
You shifted your hips against the thrusts of his tongue, his nose bumping your clit just right, and you dug your teeth into his palm like a fucking animal.
Rafael groaned, but he didn't stop. He would never stop. Not when he could feel what this was doing to you. Not when you were thrown back on his desk in utter ecstasy with his head between your legs, your dress bunched around your waist, and your pussy dripping wet for him as you rode his face. It was as close to heaven as he would ever get.
The knot in your belly kept growing tighter and tighter and tighter; every nerve in your body was alight with the heat of a thousand fires, and it just kept burning and burning and burning and—
Your orgasm slammed into you so hard that your vision turned from black to white to black again, and you fell.
Rafael didn't stop until the aftershocks had subsided. Until you stopped shaking and twitching, and your fingers unclenched from the upper edge of his desk. Until you finally, finally, let go of his hair and he could breathe again. Not that he would have minded to die right there, with your cum in his mouth and that sweet, sweet whine of overstimulation in his ears. He would have been a happy man if your pussy had killed him, but he preferred the thought of being able to do this for many, many years to come.
Your clit was swollen, throbbing, pleased yet angry, but that didn't stop him from giving it one more gentle kiss.
“¿Bien?” he asked.
Your eyes fluttered open. “Uh-huh,” you breathed. “Fuck.”
Rafael gently lifted your legs off his shoulders and helped you sit up.
“You sure?” he asked again.
You nodded. He looked so good with your cum glistening on his lips. They were pink, swollen, and oh-so-kissable.
“Yeah,” you said. “I just think I died there for a second.”
He chuckled breathlessly. “The feeling's mutual.”
Your eyes trailed down.
Oh.
His dress pants were adorned with a dark patch of cum right where his hard cock had been when he started kneeling at the altar of your body.
“Did you just–” You stared at him.
“I've had a long day.”
“I didn't even touch you.”
“You don't have to touch me to make me come like a 15-year-old Catholic school boy, mi amor.” His voice was deliciously rough. “You drive me fucking crazy,” he said, followed by something so filthy that his Cuban ancestors would have turned in their graves.
You reached out to cup his face in your hands. He rose to his feet with you. One kiss landed on your forehead, one on your cheek, before he pressed his lips to yours. He tasted like you and him, and you instinctively pressed closer to him.
“You gonna come home with me?” Your voice was barely above a whisper. “Make love to me?”
Rafael downright whimpered. “I still have work to do,” he said. That look in your eyes, though…
Make love to me? It wasn't right to say no to that. It was illegal to say no to that, but he had to, and you knew he did.
You nodded, slowly, lowering your forehead against his.
He inhaled your scent with another kiss to your sweaty forehead. “Wait up for me and I'll make it up to you later, okay?”
A tired smile grew on your face. “Okay,” you said.
With a heavy heart, he watched as you pulled away from him. Your hands touched until you were too far away, then you dropped his and made your way out.
He missed you already, terribly.
“I love you, mi amor,” he called after you.
You poked your head around the corner, still smiling, and said, “I love you too.”
Though it wasn't even five minutes after the door had fallen shut that his phone vibrated with a text from you.
Thanks for the orgasm, counselor.
Another ping.
Can't wait to feel you inside me x
Needless to say, he finished four hours' worth of paperwork in two.
Here could be a tag list. Someday.
A little old for you - Dr. Jack Abbot x reader
Summary: 1.3k words. Some residents at the Pitt try to get Doctor Abbot's attention, but he only has eyes for you.
Warnings: controversially younger wife (unspecified age gap), suggestive material, canon-typical mention of medical stuff, minimal editing
a/n: this is literally so stupid lmfao but I just need to get it out of my drafts. Enjoy xoxo
master list | divider credit
It was no secret that Doctor Abbot was easy on the eyes, especially for a couple of burnt-out residents with a minor praise kink. Despite several attempts at flirting, Abbot never reciprocated or acknowledged the efforts.
It started off subtly. The residents would offer playful remarks and praise to the senior attending, but he barely paid it any mind. After weeks of no reaction from their mentor, they got bolder. The trauma bays could often have the residents crowded around the attendings in the close quarters, but it seldom required them brushing their body against his steady form for longer than was necessary.
The residents’ advances to follow would definitely make HR raise their eyebrows—although many happenings in the Pitt were not HR-approved. They practiced “cowboy medicine”, as it had been referred to more than once, especially by Jack & Robby’s supervisors.
The week after that, one of the residents managed to corner Doctor Abbot in the staff locker room.
“Hey, Doctor Abbot, I was hoping I could get in some extra practice hours sometime?” The resident bit her lip. Maybe working well over 80 hours a week and running on fumes—plus a noxious mix of energy drinks and shitty black coffee—was beginning to affect her, because the attempt to look sultry came across as deranged.
She’s in his personal space in an unnecessary way that had Abbot scrunching up his nose. But again, he ignored it, and instead took a wide stance and stepped back, preventing the resident from getting any closer without being desperately obvious.
The resident didn’t care about being obviously desperate as she moved toward her attending again. Strike one. Jack had to suppress a smirk. This wasn’t his first resident to push a boundary, and this certainly wasn’t the ER cowboy’s first rodeo.
“No can do, doctor. I have plans outside of work, and I suggest you make some too. Get your mind off this place.” Jack suggested without ever looking away from his locker.
“I know something that would take my mind off of things.” He casted a wary sideways glance at her. There was bold, and then there was borderline harassment. Strike two.
She’s deflated at his lack of interest. She’s put herself, her ego, and dignity out on the line. All risk with no reward. As a last ditch effort, she took a peek at the inside of Jack’s locker to see a couple of photos, all of them featuring you.
“Are you hanging out with your niece? Daughter?” She hummed, trying to strike up conversation. Now that got a reaction out of her tragically attractive attending, just not the one she expected. He’s visibly pissed off when he turns to look at her directly for the first time all evening.
“That is my wife. You have patients to see, I suggest you go do your job now.” His tone is icy and leaves no room for argument.
Strike three.
Before she could formulate an apology for her mortifying misstep, Abbot turned on his heel to dive into Pitt’s chaos.
The universe has a sick sense of humor, at least according to Doctor Abbot’s resident fan club, who witnessed you walk into the Pitt like you belonged there. The resident who was considering requesting a transfer after her grave error clocked you immediately, and the rest put the puzzle pieces together when Abbot’s face lit up in a rare smile as you enveloped him in a healing hug.
“Hi baby, what are you doing here?” Jack smiled and pulled you tighter against him. He’s always happy to see you, but an unprompted visit to the emergency room is enough to have any good husband worry.
“I couldn’t sleep. Thought I’d bring you something to snack on.” The baked goods made Jack’s mouth water, but he knows what’s good for him, so he made a mental note to save some for Robby and Dana in the morning. Jack shamelessly ate your brownies in front of a line of NPO patients, earning a chorus of muffled complaints.
The simple and unabashed display of love between you and your husband caught a resident’s eye from across the ED. She couldn’t see too many details from afar, but she definitely saw how the harsh artificial lighting reflected off the rock of a ring on your left hand.
There’s a brief lull and Jack is able to pull you away from the center of the chaos, while still having a full view of the Pitt, in case he was needed somewhere. You two were comfortable in the localized silence. Through all the havoc of his shift, Jack treasured his moments of quiet with you; though it never stayed quiet for long.
“You wanna hear somethin’ funny?” His words are muffled around the second brownie he’s shoved in his mouth.
“Hmm… a patient slipped in the shower and that’s genuinely how they got a bottle of shampoo up their ass?”
“Ha. No. One of the residents asked if you were my niece or daughter,” Jack deadpanned, looking at you through his eyebrows.
A bout of laughter spilled past your lips and your hands briefly met your knees before you wiggled your ring finger in between your bodies.
Long ago, in the early stages of your relationship, both you and Jack could get insecure about your age gap at times. Now, it was entertaining to tease Jack by calling him “peepaw” and “gramps” out in public when people imposed assumptions about your relation to each other.
If the nosey bystanders found you lightly making out in the wine aisle at the grocery store—the one you consistently got carded at—then any discomfort was their problem. Afterall, who were you to deny yourself and your husband a sweet, romantic moment?
Doctor Abbot knew it was mean and perhaps unethical to make fun of his resident, but he couldn’t help himself when it came to his wife. He subtly nodded towards the treatment area bordering the opposite end of the nurses’ station. Your gaze wasn’t obvious or glaring, but the resident felt it burning into the back of her head. Your eyes were merely curious, not lethal. If anything, you were amused.
You turned back to your husband with a Cheshire grin and shrugged. “I don’t know… she seems a little old for you.” Jack had half a mind to envelope the tongue stuck out between your teeth in his lips, but he figured this wasn’t the time or place. Instead, he rolled his eyes and pinched your hip.
“Alright, that’s enough.” Which wasn’t really true, Jack could never get enough of his wife, but he unfortunately had a job to do. “I have to go back to work with some overworked and under-laid residents. Who are making the latter my problem now.” Abbot finished pointedly.
The situation was far more amusing to you than it was to him.
“I could get you a cool flashing neon wedding band for you to wear at work. Or you could get another tattoo of my name that can be seen with your scrubs on, though I do prefer them off…” your mind trailed off to the positions your husband was flipping you into just a few hours ago.
A sense of pride filled Jack, knowing how much he affected you.
“That’s not a horrible idea,” Jack muttered with a quiet groan as another resident from the fan club turned the corner, looking for him.
“I’ll see you at home,” he promised with a chaste kiss to your lips, that was much too short for your liking.
“Come home soon, the kids miss you.” Your pout was convincing to an outsider, but it just got a chuckle from Jack.
‘The kids’ being the German Shepherd Jack rescued several years ago and your cat who “refused to die” according to your neighbor who unfortunately met the wrath of Taco the senior cat after she denied him treats.
Even still, Jack hummed as he begrudgingly moved away from you, losing contact with your warm body in the cold ER. He surrendered himself to the rest of the shift, comfortable with the fact that while he was surrounded by blood and guts, you would sleep surrounded by fur and love.
a/n: This is so astronomically far from my magnum opus,, but please accept this crumb of content. Reblogs & comments are so super duper appreciated!
fic post notifs @thesewordsxupdates
Busy Bee
parings. jack abbot x wife!reader
summary. you and your son take a trip to the pitt after an encounter with a bee. unfortunately, or maybe fortunately, your husband's working.
warnings. age gap (jack mid/late 40s, reader late 20s early 30s), reader is allergic to bees, overprotective!jack, boy-dad!jack, typical hospital setting, no death, hurt/comfort but mainly comfort, other pitt characters, let me know if there's anything else!
notes. local boy dad truther hopped into the pitt fandom, but this popped into my mind and I haven't been able to let it go. these will probably be a set of drabbles and one-shots if it gets enough traction, but please enjoy and any feedback is appreciated! also I am not a medical professional, but I tried my best to sound realistic.
wc. 2700+
side drabble of the aftermath
part two: where we fit
“We got a woman in her late twenties to early thirties, went into anaphylactic shock at the park due to a suspected bee sting. Vitals stabalized after we gave her Epi, but the swelling in her throat and the hives covering her chest, neck and arms is pretty extensive.”
Just another normal day in the Pitt.
“It is starting to be that season,” Dr. McKay said lightly as she did her own assessment while a few interns watched, “Did she have anyone with her? Who called?”
The EMT gave a small gesture to her partner who was walking in behind them with a small boy, maybe five or six, who looked worried. “Couple of joggers passed them and found him with her failed EpiPen, they called after that.”
Cassie could only nod as she thought about her own son experiencing that, “Alright Mohan come with me we’re gonna take her to south-15. Mel, can you talk to the boy and see if there’s anyone we can call for him?”
Going to their respective tasks, McKay and Mohan took the young mother and Melissa went to introduce herself to the boy. He was still standing with the EMT, clutching his hand tightly while watching the hustle and bustle that was the emergency department.
“Hey… Can I talk to him?” Mel approached slowly and the EMT squatted down to look the kid in his eyes. “I have to go now but uh- Dr. King here is gonna take really good care of you while your mommy gets help, okay?” The boy just nodded, going to hold his own hand.
“What’s your name?” Mel asked, offering her own hand for him to take as they walked away. His grip was soft, if not a little clammy, and he toddled behind her as she led him to the family room. “Lucas…” he took his own deep breath, unsure of himself and the situation.
“I heard something pretty scary happened at the park. Are you doing okay?” Lucas gave a little shrug, giving her hand a squeeze at the mention of the incident at the park.
“I think so, is my mommy gonna be okay? Daddy says bees are bad for her, and the pen is supposed to make her better but it didn’t...”
Mel opened the door to the family room, having Lucas sit in one of the chairs near the small coffee table. She had learned in the past couple of months that children liked to be distracted in situations like these. Clearly the little boy was feeling down, his once peaceful day at the park now ruined by an unfortunate accident.
She sat down beside him, helping him take off the backpack he was wearing hoping maybe there were some more identifying clues lying within the blue cloth. “Well your dad must be very smart, but your mom is being taken care of by some really cool doctors and I think she’s gonna be okay and excited to see you again.”
Unzipping the bag, Mel gave Lucas a gentle smile as they pulled out the contents together. Inside were the usual kid essentials — a juice pouch, a small sketchpad with dinosaurs drawn in crayon, and a pair of cleats and matching socks balled up and forgotten at the bottom. She sifted carefully, searching for anything that might tell them who else to contact. A pair of car keys sat in the front pocket, but no wallet or any other identifying placards. The EpiPen sat visibly in the mesh side holster, unadministered and effectively useless now. The air was light between the pair while the Intern thought of her next moves, and Lucas had started coloring next to her to keep his mind off of things.
She thought about askin Robby or Dana for next steps, and definitely wanted Kieara to stop by. “Are we able to contact your dad? I’m sure he’d want to know what happened,” Mel said, stumped at what to do next.
“He’s pretty busy and um- his number sheet is in my other bag in the car… Mommy was supposed to make two, but this is the fun bag so it wasn’t supposed to matter.” Lucas explained, though that’s fair considering he’s only five or so.
“Oh! Well where does he work? We could try calling them and he should be able to come here,”
Lucas closed his eyes and wiggled around in his chair as he tried to remember the name, “Uhhh- oh Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center!”
Mel’s eyes lit up at the mention of the very hospital they were in. “Well that’s where we are! Let me go grab someone real quick and we can start asking around, how does that sound?” Lucas silently agreed and went back to coloring as the blonde woman left the room.
The Intern succuried around, hoping to find Dr. Robby in a moment of peace where she could talk to him about the situation. Thankfully, the older man was sitting near the nurses station typing away at one of the computers.
“Dr. Robby! I uh- I have the son of a patient who was admitted not too long ago, he said his dad works here and I was hoping you could help us locate him? He’s only about five so he doesn’t remember too much besides that.” Mel stood expectantly, as the older man got up and pushed his chair in.
“Lead the way Dr. King, let's find this boy's dad.” Robby ran a hand down his face as he followed after Melissa who was leading him to the family room. Putting on a brave face, he hoped to god this wasn’t going to lead into a hospital wide manhunt. They kept a steady pace, pausing outside the door. “What was the other patient admitted for?” He asked, needing to know if this would be bad or not.
“Mom was taken to South-15 after experiencing anaphylactic shock from a bee sting. The uh- EpiPen failed and some joggers helped them out, Dr. McKay was trearting her and everything was stable when we left besides the swelling and hives she had.” she explained keeping her recounting of it short, really wanting to find Lucas’s father as soon as possible.
The two stepped inside the small room, the young boy sitting in the same cramped chair, picking at the sleeve of his sweater.
“Hey, Lucas. This is Dr. Robby he’s gonna help-” Mel could barely get the rest of her sentence out before the boy looked up and rushed into the arms of the man beside her.
“Uncle Mikey!” he cried out, latching onto the older doctor who scooped him up.
“Hey Luke, what are ya doing here buddy?” Still a bit shocked, Robby gave the boy a quick scan looking for any sign that something could be wrong, “I heard your mom got stung by a bee.”
Lucas let out a small sniffle, resting his head on the shoulder of his uncle. “It was scary… an-and mommy left her phone in the car so-so I couldn’t call anyone!” He kept his little body close, fists locked onto the blue hoodie Robby was known for wearing. He was still scared, just now beginning to process everything that had happened in the past hour or so.
Mel stood off to the side, letting the two talk amongst themselves for a few moments. “You know Dr. Robby, Lucas?”
The pair turned to her and Robby adjusted the boy so he could see the woman a bit better. “Dr. King meet Lucas Abbot, I’m surprised he didn’t say so sooner-probably the nerves.” The older man looked down to the boy who was still clinging to him, the only familiar person he had seen since arriving to the PTMC. “You wanna go find your dad?”
Lucas nodded a resounding yes, keeping his face buried in the neck of the older man hoping he would keep carrying him.
“Dr. King, I got it from here if you want to go back and work,” Mel took her leave after that, giving Lucas a small wave goodbye before going back into the fold.
Robby set the small boy down, repacking the scattered items back into the bag. He tried not to think about the faulty EpiPen, or how Jack was going to react upon finding out what had occurred. If anything that man was protective, and if hearing that his wife had been admitted didn’t set him off—hearing his son was here and hadn’t been able to contact him definitely would.
“Yo Dana, we have a visitor with us today.” The brunette gave the curls on Lucas’s head, a trait he got from his father, a small rub, as they got to the charge nurse’s attention. The blonde let out a small gasp as she bent down to give the boy a hug.
“And what are you doing here, little man? Where’s your mama? Your Dad’s running all over the place today, have you seen him yet?” She looked back up at Robby, holding the boy close.
The older man gave a small shake of his head, a knowing look in his brown eyes. “She’s uh- She’s in south-15 and we were actually looking for Jack, have you seen him?”
Dana glanced at the board, “He was about to discharge a patient from north-8, you could probably catch him before the next Ambo pulls up.”
“Alright, buddy,” Robby said, offering his hand to Lucas again. “Let’s go find your dad before he disappears on us.”
Dana gave the boy one more quick squeeze and a wink before standing up again. “Tell him to take five once you find him. He’s been running around since before you got here.”
They made their way toward the north wing, weaving between carts and stretchers, the bustle of the hospital constant. Lucas stayed close, wide-eyed but silent, clutching Robby’s fingers like a lifeline.
As they rounded the corner near North-8, Robby spotted him—Dr. Jack Abbot clipboard in hand, shoulder leaning into the doorway of a patient room as he gave discharge instructions with that familiar composed intensity. Even from here, Robby could see the stress around his eyes. Whatever calm Jack projected, it wasn’t rooted deep today. The patient stepped away into the crowd of people and Robby stepped into view, catching his eye.
Jack nodded a little when he saw him, expecting a routine update—until he saw the small figure beside him.
“Lucas?”
The clipboard hit the counter with a clack.
Lucas let go of Robby’s hand and ran straight into his father’s arms, the impact knocking the breath out of Jack for half a second.
“Hey—hey, what—” Jack crouched down, holding Lucas tightly, searching his face. “Are you okay? What happened?”
Lucas clung to him like a koala, cheeks red and eyes glassy. “Mommy’s sick,” he whispered. “The pen didn’t work. I tried, but it didn’t work.”
Jack’s face paled. His arms tightened instinctively. “Where is she?”
“South-15,” Robby answered quietly, giving the man a moment before continuing. “It was a bee sting. The EpiPen failed. She was treated right away, vitals are stable, McKay’s with her.”
Jack didn’t move at first, just held his son close, forehead resting against Lucas’s curls as he processed it all—the sudden fear, the guilt, the helplessness. Finally, he let out a long breath.
“I didn’t even know—no wonder she wasn’t answering her phone.” His voice cracked.
“She’s okay,” Robby reminded him gently. “And your son? Absolute champ. Kept his head until the crews showed up.”
Lucas pulled back just enough to look at him. “I didn’t cry. I was gonna, but I didn’t.”
Jack smiled through the tightness in his chest. “Good job, bud.”
He stood up slowly, Lucas still in his arms, and turned to Robby. “I need to see her.”
Robby nodded. “Go on, Brother. I’ll let Dana know what’s going on, let her know you’re clocking off early.” He handed over the backpack and let the father/son duo head off.
Making their way to you, where you were taken was a bit more private than other rooms and the soft beeping could be heard from outside. The two stopped outside, Jack prepping the boy for what he was about to see.
“Hey…So mommy’s probably gonna be sleepy and she might have a hard time talking okay? We should be able to see her though.” Lucas nodded into his dad’s shoulder, his small fingers tightening around the fabric of Jack’s black scrub top.
“Okay,” he whispered. “I won’t be loud.”
Jack gave a little smile at that, brushing his son’s curls down gently before reaching for the door. The soft click of the handle felt louder than it should have, and as they stepped inside, the familiar scent of antiseptic mixed with something heavier—like adrenaline and the memories embedded within the room.
The room was dimly lit, with only the overhead light above your bed on. You were propped up slightly, eyes closed, an oxygen cannula under your nose. Your arm had an IV line, and Princess was quietly making notes on the monitor screen.
Jack’s breath hitched in his throat.
Lucas didn’t say anything right away. His gaze was locked on you, his brown eyes wide and unreadable as he stared at his mom, so happy and full of life only hours ago, now tucked into white sheets with wires and machines surrounding her.
“Mommy…” he whispered.
Your eyes fluttered open at the sound, sluggish but aware. You turned your head slightly, the movement slow and pained, but unmistakably focused on him.
Jack stepped closer, kneeling beside the bed so Lucas could see you better.
“She’s awake,” Jack said softly. “You can say hi, baby.”
Lucas’s lip trembled, but he leaned toward you. “I’m sorry,” he blurted suddenly. “I tried with the pen but it didn’t work and I was scared and I couldn’t call—”
Your fingers twitched and slowly reached for him, and Jack gently helped guide Lucas’s hand to yours. Holding the both of yours within his strong grip.
“You did so good, baby,” you said, your voice hoarse but warm. “I’m okay, and you were so brave.”
Lucas crawled gently onto the edge of the bed, careful not to bump into any of the cords or wires. He curled up beside your arm, still holding your hand tightly.
Jack sat in the chair beside the bed, rubbing his face and finally letting out a shaky breath.
“You scared the shit out of me,” he said quietly, half to himself, half to you. You gave him a tired smile, and Jack reached up to brush your hair from your face.
“But you’re here,” he said. “And we’re okay. That’s what matters.”
“Yeah, you’re lucky we weren’t closer to Pres, would’ve really lost your shit…” you gave him the best smile you could muster, while he gave you a knowing look.
He let out yet another sigh, still keeping your hand in his. “We need to get you another EpiPen, and put my goddamn number in that park bag.”
“You have fun with that, babe,” you murmured, voice still rough but tinged with just enough sass to draw a soft snort from Jack.
“Oh, I will,” he said, dragging the chair a little closer to the bed. “You’re gonna have a laminated emergency list in every bag we own. Backpack, baseball bag, glove box—hell, I’ll sew one into your damn jacket lining if I have to.”
Lucas perked up a little at that, lifting his head. “I can start baseball?”
Jack looked over at him, mock-serious. “Only if you promise not to spill a bunch of stuff in the bag again.”
Lucas giggled for the first time since they got there, that tiny sound easing something deep in Jack’s chest. You chuckled too, though it ended in a soft wince as your ribs reminded you what happened.
Jack leaned forward instinctively, hand pressing lightly over yours again. “Easy,” he murmured.
“I’m fine,” you reassured, but your grip on his fingers said another thing.
I love you, I’m sorry.
The room fell into a quiet rhythm after that—the soft hum of monitors, Lucas gently dozing off against your arm after hours of turmoil, Jack watching both of you with an expression halfway between exhaustion and fierce devotion.
“Thank you,” you whispered after a moment, just for him.
He looked up.
“For having such good doctor friends, for loving me… For being a good dad,”
Jack leaned in, brushing a kiss to your temple. “Always.”
mercvry-glow 2025
I glow pink in the night in my room
dex who just appears in ur house randomly.
it was at night when u got home one time and was met with the sight of him just.. in ur room… organising ur clothes drawer.
you basically jumped at the sight: "What the fuck— dex! are you trying to give me a heart attack?" u huffed, hand on ur heart and clearly still recovering from the scare of a massive man (who was still suited as bullseye) in ur room at 11pm. he just looks at u with the expression of an unimpressed cat as if he’d done nothing wrong!
"your room is messy." he says. vaguely gesturing to the pile of clothes in a basket placed in the corner.
another time, you could be watching a movie, haven’t checked ur phone in a bit when u hear the sound of a window sliding open from ur bedroom. dex walking out with a bit of a concerned expression before relaxing at the sight of you, "you weren’t responding to my texts." standing by the TV as he squinted at you skeptically… as if he wasn’t literally standing next to the reason why.
"..i’m watching a movie, babe. i didn’t see the messages," sighing softly as you patted the couch, dex immediately moving to plop down next to you like an overgrown puppy.
another time, you were sleeping— trying to sleep. tossing and turning with grumbles and complaints and as if the universe was finally on ur side you heard ur bedroom door being opened gently, "mhmmn.. dex..?" u mumbled, rubbing ur eyes and rolling onto ur back. dex grunting softly in response as u heard him kick his boots off, settling beside you on the bed as he shifted you onto a more comfy position.
"baby… you can’t just keep breaking into my home."
"…yes i can." he grumbled, before he kissed ur neck gently and snuggling you tightly.
IM GOING FERAL. OMFGGG. HES SO BIG. IM GONNA FREAK TF OUT
Too sweet to share
Pairing: Benjamin Poindexter x F!Reader
Summary: Dex was tired of seeing how you were with Matt and took matters into his own hands.
Word Count: 1,693
Content Warnings/tags: Explicit sexual content, 18+ mdni, fem!reader, piv, dom! Dex, Poindexter x Reader, Dark Romance, Possessive Behavior, Obsessive Behavior, Jealousy, Rough Sex, Dirty Talk, Breeding Kink, Creampie, Multiple Rounds, Praise Kink, Degradation, Overstimulation, Oral Fixation, fully consensual, lmk if i missed anything!
Notes: kinda ooc dex but whatever
Dex’s broad palm clamped over your mouth, muffling the filthy sounds of your moans so Matt wouldn’t come back and spoil all the fun. His cock was buried to the hilt, your walls fluttering and clenching around him while you stared up with wide, glassy eyes. His gaze stayed locked on where his thick cock stretched you open, sliding in and out of your wet, noisy cunt. He’d wanted this so for so long but was either too injured or Matt never left the two of you alone long enough.
Dex couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment it started. All he remembered was how fucking sweet you were. Over the past week, taking care of Dex had become part of your routine. After Karen tried shooting him, Matt had made you promise to keep an eye on him until he had healed enough to be left alone. More importantly, he trusted you to make sure Dex didn’t disappear until he was able to stand on his own two feet. You had agreed without hesitation. As far as you were concerned, this was a favor towards your beloved friend and helping people had always come as naturally to you as breathing.
Every morning you changed his bandages with careful hands, cleaned the wound, gave him his medication, and spoon fed him food since Matt made sure his hands were able to grab anything. You fussed over him whenever he tried sitting up or moving to much by himself too hard, gently guiding his back on the bed again despite the irritated looks he sent your way. You never seemed bothered by how quiet he was or how little he knew how to respond to kindness. You simply gave him a quick glance, adjusted his pillows, handed him a glass of water, and carried on as though caring for him was the easiest thing in the world.
Dex had never experienced anything quite like it.
At first, he convinced himself he only tolerated your attention because it made recovering easier. Then the days passed, and he found himself waiting for the sound of your footsteps in the hallway, watching the clock until you came back into the room, noticing every absent-minded brush of your fingers against his arm whenever you checked his temperature or changed another bandage. Somewhere along the way, your kindness stopped feeling temporary. It became something he craved. Something he began believing belonged to him and only him.
Then Matt would stop by.
Usually he came just to check up on you making sure Dex didn’t try anything before asking how Dex was recovering, but sometimes he arrived with fresh bruises or split knuckles of his own. Without thinking, you would guide Matt into the kitchen, sit him down, and fuss over him with the exact same gentle patience. You cleaned the cuts on his face, pressed ice against forming bruises, scolded him for getting hurt again, and gave him soft smile. Dex never got a smile from you. How come Matt got one and not him?
Dex hated it.
He hated how naturally your attention shifted away from him. Hated the way Matt accepted your care like it was normal, like he had every right to it. Most of all, he hated realizing that the tenderness he had spent days quietly hoarding in his mind had never been his to begin with. It wasn’t special. You were simply just taking care of him.
By the end of the week, Dex’s injuries had healed enough that Matt finally agreed it was time to let him go. He knew Dex still carried the need to balance the scales, to prove to himself that he wasn’t beyond redemption by doing one undeniably good deed. Matt couldn’t ignore that hope, no matter how fragile it was.
That chance came when an assassin broke into Governor McCaffrey’s home. Dex responded before anyone else could, killing the would-be assassin moments before he could carry out the attack. To everyone else, it was the act of a hero. To Matt, it was enough to believe Dex deserved another chance. So he let him walk away, unaware that the very first place Dex would go was your apartment.
Dex stood on the other side looking just uncomfortable enough to sell the lie, one hand pressed carefully against his side as he quietly claimed he’d reopened his wound. Concern washed over your face almost instantly. Without a second thought, you stepped aside and hurried him inside, already asking where it hurt and telling him to sit down before he made it worse.
You didn’t even consider the possibility that he was lying to you. You were too sweet for that. And Dex, selfish as he was, didn’t feel even the slightest bit guilty for taking advantage of it. All he could think about was having your hands on him again, your full attention fixed entirely on him, exactly where he believed it belonged.
Dex’s eyes swept across the apartment lingering on the empty living room before they settled back on you. His gaze drifted toward the front door as he quietly asked where Matt was. You absentmindedly told him he’d just left, only a minute or two ago. Close enough that he was probably still somewhere outside the building, but far enough that he was no longer there. A small, almost imperceptible wave of relief settled over Dex before his attention returned entirely to you.
…
You couldn’t even remember how he got you into this position, on your bed, legs spread wide, begging him to go harder.
“D-Dex, please,” you whimpered, eyes rolling back.
Everything felt filthy. His hands kept slipping on your sweaty hips, the wet slap of skin on skin only half-hidden under the sheets.
“Harder, Dex—fuck—right there,” you pushed your hips up to meet every rough thrust while his fingers worked your clit.
“Say it again,” he growled against your ear, biting the lobe when your nails dug into his ass and dragged him deeper. “Fuck, sweetheart, you feel perfect. So goddamn tight.”
Your walls fluttered at the praise, shocked that a supposedly injured man could talk and move like this. He felt every squeeze and laughed under his breath, still covering most of your sounds with his hand. Then he shifted, leaned in close, and finally pulled his palm away so he could brush the damp hair off your face.
“Give me a little smile…” he ordered, eyes dark and blown.
His rhythm turned slow and cruel, pulling out inch by inch so you felt every ridge, then slamming back in hard. Your tits bounced with the force. Your tongue lolled out as you gasped for the air he’d been denying you. Dex’s fingers gently pushed the edges of your lips up giving him a lopsided smile. He smiled and panted fucking you even harder. You locked your legs around his waist and let the sounds out. Dex moved his hand and stuck his fingers in your mouth making you suck them.
“Look at you. Completely wrecked. Naughty little thing letting me back inside and ruining you. What happens if Matt walks back in?”
He sank his teeth into your shoulder just as he hit your sweet spot and you cried out.
“You’re not even trying to stay quiet. You want to get caught, don’t you? You know he can hear you from wherever the hell he is..” You couldn’t form a real answer. All you felt was the relentless drive of his cock, deeper than anything you’d taken before.
“N-no,” you managed, eyes squeezed shut while he squeezed your cheeks.
“I don’t Dex—I’m-oh—”
Your fists twisted in the sheets when he found that spot again and white flashed behind your eyes. He lowly chuckled at how easily you submitted, watching your pussy swallow him.
“Pretty little cunt wrapped around me”
He spread your lips with two fingers and sucked in a breath at the white cream already coating his cock. He snapped his hips harder when you just clung to his arm, panting. He dropped his head and sucked hard on your tits while your hands flew to his hair.
“Tell me how good it feels. Please..”
Your thighs burned from how hard he kept pushing into you. He didn’t ease up, just demanded more.
“So good, Dex! Too much—your cock’s too much—inside, please, I want—”
“You want me to fill you up?”
You nodded, too far gone to think straight. Dex bit down on your skin, cock already twitching. He shoved your legs wider, driving deeper with longer, heavier strokes. You sobbed into your pillow. Every hard snap of his hips shoved you up the bed. You thought he was done when his abs locked and he groaned, pumping thick ropes of cum deep inside you. You clenched around him on instinct. He stayed buried, kissing you hard, fist tangled in your hair while both of you moaned into each other’s mouths.
“Dex…” you breathed, twitching from the overstimulation.
He smiled at how ruined you sounded. But one taste wasn’t enough. The image of you walking around taking care of Matt instead of him had something feral clawing at him. Before you could even try to push him off, he flipped you onto your stomach, yanked your ass up against his hips, and pressed your face into the pillows.
“Dex!” you gasped as the head of his still hard cock nudged your messy entrance.
“Just a little more for me please..”
The edge in his voice was darker now. He rubbed the tip through your folds, then sank in easy because you were still soaked and open. Both of you hissed.
“I’m not finished.”
His hand shoved the back of your head down until breathing got hard, and the way your walls fluttered tighter only made him meaner.
“Going to make you forget about him m’kay?”
He didn’t give you time to question him. He just drove into you harder than before, chasing the exact picture he wanted you ruined on your sheets, drooling and crying into the pillow. Dex was going to keep fucking you to oblivion so the only name on your mind was his.
“Going to make you mine..”
He’d gone completely feral, and nothing was stopping him.
Banners by @uzmacchiato, reblogs and comments are very encouraged!
FIRST TIME ━━╋━ mdni .ᐟ dex being as gentle as he possibly can with you, soft sex, implied loss of virginity but like its not a big deal, unprotected sex, p in v, creampie, cockwarming, clit play, messy makeout, praise, lwk nervous dex...
“just take your time yeah?”
dex lays back, staring up at you carefully, his dilated pupils filled half with worry, half with awe. you sat over him tense as ever and stuffed to the brim with his pulsing cock. you shiver squeezing him with your already tight cunt, hands balanced on his broad, solid chest, taking in the feel of his warm skin and just how full you felt.
dex wasn't exactly the most sexually active guy, he didn't fuck just anybody, so when you proposed the solution to your complete lack of experience it made sense. in your head at least...
he hisses softly, “i told you baby— we don't have to do this—”
“i know— i know—”, you pant out softly, whispering a little embarrassed, pouting out your bottom lip softly.
“but i really want to dex— c'mon please…”
he swallows, rolling his jaw while you felt his chest rise and fall as he took his time. dex could feel his cock twitch at your soft plea, watching the nerves on your face, the slight shake in your voice, making him tighten his grip around your hips. dex can't help but give into your need as you bit your lip giving him that sweet look with your tits pressed together for him, how could he refuse ?
“m’gonna go slow ‘kay?”, his voice is low and comforting in the dim room, eyes staring up at you like you were the centre of his world, and truly you were.
you nod, feeling him begin to lift you over his cock, moving you with ease, his big rough hands holding you by your waist as his muscles flexed. he tried to be gentle with you, watching your face scrunch up while he helped you ride him at that slow sensual pace.
“feels good?”
he offered a little smile, a faint quirk of his lips in that familiar smirk.
“uh huh— so— so good—”, you let out a breathy moan, running your hands on his torso and the smooth of his abs for balance all while he kept his steady pace. dex carried on, acting as if you were fine china, one wrong move and you'd crack under his touch. he focused on the feeling of your warm pussy, letting his hips thrust up into you gently, groaning as he held himself back from fucking you harder. his brow creasing with restraint on his focused face, he watched your lips, swollen from nervous chewing, your eyes darting over him, how your tits bounced slightly with his pacing, dex noticed everything about you. he was obsessed.
“mhm— that's it— taking me so well baby…”
he kept going and going as you felt your body tingling with pleasure and that tight feeling blooming inside your stomach. he watches your face, waiting carefully for the right time to move.
suddenly the tip of his thick cock hit a spongey spot deep inside you, making you gasp out and clutch at him, nails pressing into his tough skin.
“shit— m'sorry—”
worry fills him and he expects you to cry out, to ask him to stop but instead you arch into it, moaning out softly, all breathy and pretty sitting on top of him. he lets out a huff watching your hips bounce over his cock, trying to emulate the feeling.
“keep doing that— please—”, you whine, making him let out a breathy sigh of relief and a meek smile as he pumps you over his cock with a more steady pace.
dex loved this. watching you fall apart on top of him, crumbling so softly, so beautifully. all for him.
“so pretty like this…”
“look at you angel…”
hes muttering to himself, hypnotised by you and the sloppy connection where the base of his cock met your cunt and the lewd, wet sounds emanating from it. he feels every delicate flutter and squeeze of your cunt around his thick cock, he knows exactly where to aim, how hard and how much, he feels you getting closer and closer. dex knows you better then you know yourself. he can feel how close you are to your finish, the hot band pooling in your lower half about to snap.
another thrust, and another, the lewd noises getting louder between the two of you, he grunts pulling you closer. one of his big hands grabbing for your hair, tugging slightly, and suddenly his mouth is on yours swallowing your loud moans. his tongue is warm and he tastes like sweet coffee, dex nips at your lips, licking and kissing you in a mess of spit and want. while he sucks at your tongue his other hand gropes at your ass, kneading the plush curve of it while effortlessly moving you up and down the length of his cock.
to finish you off he drags the hand that was on your ass over your hip and between your legs, leaving the skin with burning hot trails of his touch. his thumb reaches for your clit, nudging its way down and pressing hard. sirens go off in your head, you practically see stars. dex feels your mouth hang open, half dumb and gasping out pleas for god knows what. he rubs a tight circle over your clit, pressing his face against your cheek before he found a solid pace, feeling your muscles twitch and force your legs to squeeze around him.
when you cum it's messy and sudden, you gasp out his name into his mouth, leaning forward into him. dex holds you tight against him, letting you shake softly into his skin while you screw your eyes tighter letting out little soft whimpers.
“that's it, just— fuck— let it happen—”
dex grunts softly, chasing his own finish. after glancing at your face, seeing the fucked out look gloss over your eyes he cant help cumming deep inside you, fucking you gently through your both your highs. he held you tight against him. he felt how your pussy creamed around his now limp cock with overwhelmingly warm pleasure.
the aftermath is warm and achy. he's stroking your skin gently, the side of your face then moving his palm to rub comforting circles into your back.
“did so good—”, he mumbles quietly, feeling you relax on top of him mumbling something shakily while your eyes flutter shut.
dex runs his long fingers through your hair watching you lay your head over his chest, spent and tired as ever. he lets you rest while he was still twitchy and spent inside of you.
“did so good f'me angel— so good—”, he mumbles tiredly feeling his own eyelids grow heavy.
© rottndeer 2026. please do not repost, copy, translate or use any of my work for ai. i post only on tumblr.
Spiderman: Brand New Day was actually a 2 hour documentary on how repressing your emotions will fucking kill you
Kiss It Better
Pairing: Benjamin Pointdexter X Reader
Summary: After witnessing something you weren’t supposed to, there’s a price on your head. It would be easy for the excellent marksman to finish the job, but something about you makes him reconsider.
Or- I saw Wilson talking about how Dex needs a weirdo freak gf and was like ‘well, yes’. Reader is implied to be neurodivergent but its kept a bit vague.
Word Count: 15.4k
Warnings & Content: no use of y/n, fluff, smut, slow burn (sorta), swearing, attempted murder, actual murder, stalking, violence, blood and injury mention, mention of death, happy ending, slight angst, toxic attachment, 18+ mdni please
I do not authorize my work to be used for Al or reposted across platforms
For most of your life you felt invisible.
Your friends and coworkers seemed to advance easily in life, getting degrees that led to solid jobs and fulfilling relationships. You, despite your best efforts, did not have the same experience.
In high school, you first became aware of your…difference. The way people would easily talk to others and make friends, but with you they would only feign politeness and share wordless looks behind your back.
Even teachers thought you were weird. It wasn’t said explicitly, they had to be professional of course, but there was only so many times they could call you ‘an interesting yet quiet young lady’ without you catching on.
You had tried hard to change it, to ‘put yourself out there’. It never worked out well. Dates would go fine at first until there was something you said or did to unnerve the other person. Even situations you were sure had gone great resulted in you being ghosted.
You wish that they at least yelled at you or complained, then you could know for sure what they didn’t like.
Once you were in your twenties, you made peace with the fact that it wouldn’t happen for you. The relationship thing wasn’t in your cards, you just weren’t built for it. It created a sad acceptance within you, but one that was needed to not go into a mental spiral.
“-ey, were you listening?” The words drifted to the forefront of your mind, dragging you away from your trail of thoughts.
You paused in folding the shirts on display before you, turning to your coworker that was looking at you expectantly.
“Uh yeah, the closing right?” You struggled to remember what Jess had walked over to you for, but you were sure it was because she needed something. Nobody really spoke to you when they didn’t need something.
“Yeah, you can do it right? I can’t do it and Marcus needs someone to cover.” Her green eyes stared at you pleadingly.
It was a request, but it didn’t feel like one. Especially since you were the only ones still working in the clothing store this late.
“Ah, I don’t-" You thought about what was waiting for you back at your apartment. A relaxing shower, the usual quick dinner, and a puzzle of choice. Not the most exhilarating routine, but you enjoyed it. You really didn’t want to close alone.
Just do it, say no. It’s not fair for you to do everything yourself and it’s not like she’ll appreciate it.
You almost did. The refusal was on the tip of your tongue when you had a flash in your head, the disappointment on her face, the awkwardness of the next shift. How she would talk about you to your other coworkers.
“Okay, I can cover.” You blurted, adverting your eyes to continue folding.
She gave you a quick grin, already turning towards the break rooms before replying, “Great! You’re a lifesaver. I’ll definitely pay you back.”
She wouldn’t, just like she didn’t for the four other times you covered her shift.
“You’re welcome.” It’s muttered with a sigh into empty air, Jess was long gone. You thought about all the unfinished work you had to do alone, already regretting your decision.
You went into autopilot for the next few hours, slipping into the mindless task of organizing displays and adjusting price tags. The small upside was that the clothes in your store kind of sucked, so you didn’t have any customers to tend to.
“You set?”
The words made you jump. You looked up in surprise to find Marcus, who had meandered out of his office without your notice. Being a middle aged man on the heftier side, you didn’t know how he could move so quietly.
“I’m sorry, what?”
“The drawer, are you ready for me to take it? I’m gonna close a little early, don’t think it’ll be picking up anytime soon.” He motioned a thick hand towards the empty room to accentuate his point.
You nodded jerkily, shuffling out the way as he unlocked the cash drawer. Another beat and a ring of keys were being tossed your way.
“We’ll, I’m gonna count this out then I’m off, you know what to do.”
Marcus was already shuffling down the hallway before you could form a response.
He wasn’t wrong, you did know what to do. Once he was gone you got back into the automatic motions of clean, lock, organize, until the shop is fully shut down.
There was no stress, no talking or loud music, it was almost fun in a way. Fun if you forgot how you were forced into working at least.
You clicked the last light off with a sigh, shrugging your purse up your shoulder where it threatened to fall off. Going out the back door sent a wave of trepidation within you, but unfortunately it was required. The alarm was already set on the front doors and you didn’t have the keys to those.
You took a deep breath, steeling yourself. New York had only gotten more dangerous in recent years, with the corruption in politics and anti-vigilante outrage.
Once you were outside, you had to be careful to avoid any trouble. No one could be trusted, not even the police who were put there to protect citizens like yourself. You imagine if you got mugged on your way to the train, the officers on the corner wouldn’t even flinch.
Definitely not an anxiety inducing thought. Not at all.
You swung open the door, locking it quickly behind you. Ignoring the trembling of your hands, you started to make way to the front of the building.
The alley stunk of pee and other things you really didn’t want to identify. The only light around was motion sensor activated and perched on the doorway. Said light was already fading the further you stepped away, the alley delving into darkness.
You quickened your steps.
There was a slight relief in making it back onto the main street. At least there you had streetlights and the buzz of the city around you.
The sidewalk was mainly empty, and you could count on one hand the amount of cars that passed by. Most people out at this time were like you, getting off work, or getting to an early shift with a bleary look in their eyes.
You kept your head tucked down, avoiding eye contact with anyone around you. All you had to do was make it to the train, from there it was a straight shot to your apartment. Easy, simple. You could do this.
You reached the subway entrance, practically flying down the steps. The trains were relatively reliable in this part of town, so you shouldn’t have to wait too lon-
Your thought process was interrupted by a series of grunts, followed by a shout. Ducking behind a pillar, your eyes grew into saucers as you scanned for the cause of the noise.
It wasn’t a hard search, in the middle of the station was a group of men standing over something-no, someone. There was a man there, curled into himself on the cracked tile of the subway. You could barely make out his face past the blood streaming from his nose.
“Please! I don’t have it, I- just give me one more week I’m begging!” His words could barely be understood past a thick Brooklyn accent and the gurgle of blood in his throat.
One of the men snapped his fingers, and another kicked the whimpering man in the stomach, the impact making a sickening crunching noise.
You covered your mouth in an attempt to not scream, mind racing with options. Calling 911 was firmly out of the question, but running back up the stairs seemed promising. You just didn’t know if you’d be quick or quiet enough that they didn’t notice you.
Then there was the train. A quick glance at the schedule showed a less than three minute wait. If you timed it right…
“Please, I’ll do anything please-“
He was cut off by the man before who gave the attack order. “You should’ve thought about that before trying to steal from Moretti, fuckin’ rat. You should be grateful it’s just you and not your fucking family too, that’s how nice boss is.”
It was clear the man speaking was in charge, at least of the small group there. He was faced away from you, but a wayward glance from any of the men could put you in danger.
You stifled a gasp, sucking a sharp intake of air. In focusing on the group, you had forgotten to breathe.
Your heartbeat was a staccato in your ears, the blood flow dimming the sound around you.
They were going to kill that man, and there was nothing to do but watch. They were going to kill him, then they were going to kill you. Oh god, they were going to kill you if they found you.
You felt the telltale beginning of a panic attack start up, your heart rate escalating even further. This was not the time to freeze up. You pinched the skin of your hand between two fingers, the pain sobering you.
This was not the time to freeze.
The man was saying something else, the tone threatening. He was speaking in a much lower tone than before, and you couldn’t make out the words.
In a blink, he dove forward, hand jutting towards the man below him in quick successions.
It wasn’t until the growing pool of red that you realized he had stabbed him. There was a sick gurgling noise that reverberated around the subway that took the strength out of your legs.
Your purse slipped off your shoulder, clinking to the ground.
The sound alerted one of the guys closest to you. A frown quickly overtook his face as he looked you up and down.
“Hey! What’re you doing over there?”
This is how you’ll die, in a dirty subway all alone. Your family probably won’t even find out what happened.
Light flowed onto the platform from the incoming train. The screech of wheels flipped a switch in your brain.
No, you scrambled to your feet, not like this. You were not going to let it end like this.
You could hear a series from shouts and pounding footsteps behind you as you ran down the platform. Nearly tripping over a bench, you righted yourself as the train finally screeched to a stop.
The doors opened, but you kept running, an internal timer ticking in your head.
A little bit more… five, four, three-
You shoved your self to the side, slipping into a train car right as the doors closed. The others tried to follow, but they were too far behind.
You stared, wide eyed as they pounded on the window in anger. You could hear muffled threats behind the metal, but your eyes focused on the man from before.
He wasn’t yelling, or beating on the door. He only stared at your chest with a scowl. More specifically, the logo on your work shirt and your printed name tag beneath it.
Shit.
Dex was unbelievably, inconceivably, bored.
This meeting was already taking longer than he usually tolerated, and if he didn’t have good work with them before he would’ve left.
But no, this gang boss in particular was quite an egotistical bastard, and liked to pay a very nice penny on all his hits. It probably made him feel important to wave an excessive amount of money around and have people disappear.
Quite frankly, Dex couldn’t give a shit about what he felt. Money or not, his patience was running thin. Another five minutes waiting in this damp warehouse and he might just leave, or start throwing things.
He hadn’t decided which.
“Taking his sweet time huh?” He wasn’t really speaking to anyone in particular, just musing aloud, but one of the nearby goons replied anyway.
“Sorry, he had something else to wrap up. He should be here any second.”
Dex only clicked his teeth in response, busying his hands with a dagger absentmindedly. The other man’s eyes widened slightly at the display, tracking the dagger is it was thrown in the air.
Behind his mask, Dex’s lips flicked into a smirk. He wondered what the man would do if he started using the wall behind his head as a dart board, that would be interesting.
The seconds ticked by, and he was about to start some impromptu target practice when the man of the hour walked in.
“Bullseye, my friend! So kind of you to join us.”
Moretti was a small man, much smaller than one would expect the boss of a crime empire to be. There was nothing overtly menacing about him other than the beady gleam of his eyes. Of course, no one vocalized their surprise at that, because they’d end up at the bottom of the Hudson.
He reminded Dex of a small pet with a snappy temper. Like a rabid chihuahua nipping at people’s heels.
“I would think with all that money you’d own a clock.” The man’s words had ignited a flare of irritation within him. He was always annoyed by fake niceties, especially after he had waited thirty-five minutes.
Moretti’s thick eyebrows scrunched in faux concern, “My apologies, I had something else to finish up, I would never mean to keep you waiting-“
Dex cut in before he could finish the bullshit speech, “Who, and where?”
He was here for a job, not to have a tea party. All he needed was the marks information and the payment, then he’d be on his way.
Despite being cut off, the smaller man didn’t show any sign of anger. He knew better than to start unnecessary fights. “A small problem, you shouldn’t have much issue. It is time sensitive however, if she talks it would cause a great deal of issues for me.”
A woman then. Unlikely she’ll put up a fight. Disappointing.
“She saw some things she shouldn’t have. Here,” he stepped forward, a folded paper in his outstretched hand. “they got the job and her name, you should be able to take it from there yes?”
He snatched the paper, scanning over the information quickly before turning on his heel. “Fifteen thousand, same as before.” His voice carried behind him as he walked to the exit of the warehouse, hands in constant movement.
Moretti clapped his hands as if he were signing off on the deal. “Agreed, you’ll receive the wire tomorrow.”
“She’ll be dead by the end of the day.” Faster than anyone could track, he flicked the paper behind him, the point of a paper airplane imbedding into the forehead of the wide-eyed grunt from before.
The man let out a startled shout as blood trickled over his nose.
Dex ignored the commotion, grinning as he walked into the crisp night air.
Time to find a little tattle-tale.
Maybe you did have powers.
It wasn’t super strength, or advanced intelligence. It wasn’t even the power to turn invisible.
No, it had to be the ability to get in the worst situations imaginable. Super bad luck. No one’s life could be this laughably bleak, it had to be a higher power.
After that night at the subway, you couldn’t even sleep, much less leave your house. The day after the incident was your off day, so it didn’t affect much. You did however have to call off two days after that, feigning sickness.
You don’t know if your boss bought it, but considering you have never really taken a sick day before, you felt it was due.
But you couldn’t stay inside forever, you had to go back to work eventually. Getting fired would definitely do you no favors.
There was something else.
In the last few days you’d had a feeling, like spiders crawling over your skin. It was the sinking feeling of being preyed upon. Watched.
You knew they were there. You didn’t know how you knew, but you did.
There was no evidence, no threatening letters or anything out of place. Anyone listening to you would think you were insane, but you knew it wasn’t just your hysteria. You could feel it.
The only thing you were confused about was their inaction. Why hadn’t they killed you already? Not that you were complaining of course, but it just didn’t make sense.
Were they waiting for you to try to call the police? Were they not fully sure it was you at the station?
It was the cycle you went through. For days just driving yourself mad with questions and counting down the time. You hadn’t come up with a plan yet, but time was running out.
You had to go out into the world eventually.
The time went quicker than you expected. You had called off your fourth day when Marcus firmly hinted that your job might be in danger if you didn’t come in for your next shift.
You agreed, one last day of hiding and then you would come in.
Your hands trembled as you clicked the combination to your locker in the break room. Taking a deep breath, you took one last furtive glance at your belongings before turning to clock in.
“Didn’t know you hated customers that bad Oranges.” A mocking voice chimed behind you.
You tried to ignore him altogether, but he picked up his pace to walk by your side. “Don’t worry, I won’t snitch.” Matthew shot a conspiratorial glance your way, winking.
It took all your resolve to not roll your eyes. As if today wasn’t already horrible, you had to work with your least favorite person.
Matthew always found a way to antagonize you somehow. It wouldn’t have been that bad, if it weren’t non-stop. He always singled you out about something, with a fake friendly tone as if you were both in on the joke.
It started with the first week you started working. You were eating your lunch quietly, and as you started to unpeel the included orange a stream of juice shot at your face.
You could only sit there in mortification as Matthew cackled in your face. He insisted on calling you Oranges after that.
“What are we so worried about?” He continued, like you weren’t ignoring him. “If you need to relax I think they have a stress ball in the back rooms. I know you have issues with that stuff.” He could barely get out the words without laughing.
More silence from you.
“Alright then. Don’t blame me if you freak out, see ya Oranges.”
You let out a relieved sigh at his retreating frame, grabbing the clothing rack near you and resigning yourself to eight hours of torture.
Your neck let out a series of pops as you stretched it in your doorway. The house keys in your hand were tossed in the dish by the door and your jacket was shrugged off your shoulders into a pile on the ground.
“You should take better care of your things.”
The words stopped you in your tracks. You’d been so focused on the aches in your body and getting to the shower, you failed to notice the large figure in your living room until they spoke.
There was a man shrouded in shadow sitting on your lounge chair. In his hands was one of your puzzle boxes, and he seemed to be reading over it like it was the most important thing in the room.
“Please don’t.” You could barely recognize the way your voice squeaked out, strained with fear.
He looked up for the first time, eyes glinting behind a blue ski mask. “Don’t what?” His voice was deep but scratchy as it travelled across the room, as if he’d worn it out by yelling.
You could also hear a hint of amusement in his tone. He was enjoying toying with you.
“Don’t mess up my puzzles, or my apartment please. If you can, make it quick.” Your reply was more stable than before, having overcome the initial shock of his appearance.
In truth, you’d come to the conclusion you’d probably die no matter what days ago. At first, you were scared out of your mind, but like every other bad hand in your life, you accepted it. You just didn’t want whoever found you to have to deal with a mess.
His head tilted as if considering your answer, one finger twirling the box like one would do a basketball. “Not gonna beg for your life? Plead for another chance?” There was still the mocking tone, but now it carried confusion as well. He genuinely couldn’t understand why you were so calm.
Taking careful steps over to the couch, you could make out more details of him in the light of your living room lamp. He looked like a textbook assassin, wearing all black, save for the blue mask covering his face. The dark fabric of his ensemble held more compartments you could count, and the rest was stretched over a sturdy frame.
He was leaning back in your recliner chair leisurely, legs spread to take up even more space.
You let out a deep sigh as you flounced down on the couch across from him. “No, not really. I’m sure you’ve noticed, but it’s not much to plead for.”
He stopped spinning the box and looked around, as if taking in the apartment for the first time. Your lack of personal photos, the books and puzzles lining the walls. Every item spoke of a very monotonous lifestyle. “This is pretty depressing, yes.”
Of course, what were you expecting? Hopefully he doesn’t make it too difficult for anyone to clean your blood out the place.
You nodded in acceptance and closed your eyes, waiting for the inevitable. After about a minute of waiting, you opened them to find him staring at you.
The piercing gaze kept you still until he spoke again, “What’re you doing?”
‘Waiting for you to kill me’ just sounded silly, so you said nothing, adverting your gaze.
After a few more moments of quiet, you cleared your throat, “If you don’t mind, how long have you been in here?”
It was a morbid curiosity that drove the question. The idea of him waiting in your living room just to kill you, twiddling his thumbs was enough to make a sardonic chuckle rise in your throat.
You pushed down the urge. The man seemed fairly calm so far, but laughing at him definitely would do nothing in your favor.
He reached up a gloved hand, scratching at his jaw. “About a half hour.”
You blinked, “Oh, okay.”
Quite frankly, you were running out of things to say. How does one even strike up a conversation with their killer? You shouldn’t have even felt the need to make the man comfortable, but you did for some reason.
In a flash he was leaning over you, one hand on the back of the couch to speak directly in your face. “What’s your problem? Hm? You didn’t even do anything wrong and you won’t fight for your life? How is that fair?”
His other hand gripped your chin firmly, you could feel the warmth of the of his hand seeping through the fabric. With his face so close, you could see every detail of his brown eyes scrunched in anger.
You could also see more of the little items strapped around his waist and in the compartments of his pants. Knives. More knives than anyone (murderer or not) should need, in your opinion.
“I’m sorry?” Now you were a bit peeved. Who was he to lecture you about valuing your life when he came in here to kill you?
Unless… he wasn’t here to kill you, but do something much worse. A new flash of fear goes through you. You were prepared for a quick death, you were not prepared for torture, or the other ways a man could hurt a woman.
He must’ve seen the change in your face, because the hand on your chin swiftly dropped to his side.
He moved slightly out of your space, mumbling to himself. You could barely catch the words ‘balance’ and ‘worth it’ in the rambling.
“Okay,” he dipped away, back to the chair. “okay.”
You blinked at him again, “Okay?”
“Yes.” His tone, despite being amused again, invited no further questioning. He had reached a decision within himself, you just had no idea what that decision was.
With that, he settled back into your chair with all the ease in the world.
“You should go to sleep now. Been a long day.” Like before, his tone was closed off. What might’ve been misinterpreted as a request was definitely a demand.
You slowly rose to your feet, half convinced it was a trick and he’d shoot you at any moment, but nothing stopped you from gathering your bag and going into the bedroom.
Even as you shut and locked the door, there was no action, just a glinting gaze following you in the darkness.
You didn’t remember falling asleep. The last thing you recall was the unnerving conversation with the intruder before jerking awake the next morning.
A quick check showed that none of your clothes had been moved and there were no injuries on you. Despite your hair looking like a birds nest, you looked exactly did after work the day prior.
You were alive. Another day knowing someone was out to get you, and another day of being able to do nothing about it.
You groaned, trying to settle your hair with one hand as you rolled out the bed. Washing up in the bathroom was quick business. After feeling clean again in new clothes you moved to unlock the bedroom door.
Wait. He wouldn’t still be here, would he?
You highly doubt the intruder would stay for coffee in he morning, but the whole thing had been so strange you couldn’t rule anything out.
Slowly, you pressed an ear to the door, straining to hear anything on the other side.
Nothing.
You un-clicked the lock, still moving at a snails pace. Once there was a half inch sliver open, you took a peek into the living room. Empty, no homicidal men with a hundred knives in sight.
You let out a breath of relief, walking into the room. One last search throughout your place proved that there was truly no one there.
Even so, there was an unsettling feeling you couldn’t shake. You ignored it, moving to start up your coffee maker.
It wasn’t until you were halfway through your breakfast that you realized the issue. Your place was spotless, much cleaner than you’d usually keep it.
You didn't consider yourself a slob, but there was always little things here and there left behind. A few dishes in the sink, a bit of dust. The room was now so clean it looked clinical.
Every can or box of pasta in your cabinet was neatly organized and turned to the front. Swinging open the door to your fridge, you found that all your old food you’d been ignoring was thrown away. Each shelf was sparkling clean and just as orderly as the cabinets.
All your puzzle boxes were in straight, dust free columns next to books sorted by size.
What the hell is happening?
It’s just because you’ve been bored. Nothing else.
Dex had been rationalizing his actions since that first day. He had yet to come up with a solid reason for letting you live, and it sent a distressing feeling up his spine.
He did not do things for no reason.
That was a quick way to spiral, to sink into nothing. No, everything in his life had a reason and purpose. So what were you?
It started the day after the meeting with Moretti, he was poised just across from your window. There was a bolt-action rifle in his hands, and he was perfectly poised to take the shot as promised.
As he watched, you walked around your bedroom in circles. He could see your mouth moving at certain points, but no sign of you talking on the phone. It was clear you were in distress, but made no attempts to get help.
He already had access to your phone line. Throughout the night into the next day, you didn’t try calling the police, not even once.
It seems New York is catching on, those scrubs in uniforms can’t help you. If you want justice, you have to take it yourself.
He continued to watch you with a detached expression, not taking the time to consider why he hadn’t finished the job yet.
He watched as you left to take a shower, coming back a bit later in loose pajamas. He watched as you put a show on your tv, your distracted expression half aware.
You eventually found the television insufficient at calming you, and started digging through the haphazard boxes of puzzles on your shelves.
His fingers practically itched at seeing it, old habits compelling him to march in there and line everything up neatly.
He shook it off, eyes trailing to where you sat on the floor beginning the edges of a very large landscape puzzle.
You were losing yourself in it, the frown in your eyebrows lessening the more progress you made through the picture. Eventually, you had calmed enough that there was almost a smile tilting your mouth.
His eyes stayed there for a moment, wondering what a full smile from you would look like. He definitely hadn’t seen one today, and no search online showed any pictures of you exhibiting anything other than mild discomfort or apathy.
He could almost imagine it, the plush of your lips tilting up, then slowly growing. How your eyes would crinkle, glinting up at him.
At him?
At him?
The fuck was he doing?
He had a job to do, a job he was paid quite handsomely over, and he was sitting here on his ass playing make believe.
He whipped the rifle in position, capturing your face in the scope. He didn’t really need it, your shot was clear enough, especially with his abilities.
Even though it was simple, the clearest shot in the world, his fingers never pressed the trigger. He sat there, as the sky darkened into reds and melted into a dark navy, never taking a single shot.
He couldn’t even pretend that the sick worm inside of him wasn’t hungry for more. He didn’t try to act like he wasn’t coming back the next day.
He thought that would be enough. One more day of observation would be enough to satiate him. Just one more.
Dex felt like the sad sons of bitches at the liquor store on the corner. Just one more bit, I can quit any time I want to.
But he did need just one more bit, and he could quit any time he needed to. This was nothing like Jul-
He broke that train of thought with a snarl. Tonight. Tonight he would end this game and get it over with. She got off work at ten, and when she did he’d be waiting there. After that, it be simple, one shot to the head and she wouldn’t be his problem anymore.
Moretti didn’t exactly ask for proof of delivery, nobody was stupid enough to question Dex after he worked a job. If he said he did it, then he did it.
Except he didn’t do it. Moretti hadn’t asked, and he didn’t tell. But the man wasn’t an idiot, he’d find out eventually.
Even more reason to get rid of you as soon as possible.
He had the plan solidly in his mind. Wait until you walked in with your guard down, lodge a knife in your throat before you could blink.
This night, you took a bit longer than usual. Dex was dully aware that this didn’t bother him. He wasn’t upset by waiting, there was a tingling anticipation within him.
Eventually, you walked through the door, shutting it behind you with a click. You didn’t notice him at first, stretching out your neck and the muscles in your back.
You dropped your coat to the ground, stepping over it without a second glance. You were still shifting your head from side to side, trying to alleviate some tension.
He would be able to do it almost immediately. With his hands on your neck he could target the exact points of your muscle pain. His index finger flinched at the thought.
His eyes flickered to the flash of skin on the side of your neck, words coming out of his mouth before he could recall the plan he came in with.
He was barely even aware of what he said, just your response. He watched with rapt attention as your eyes widened, taking him in.
As your eyes scanned his frame, he could feel his hips shift forward slightly.
A myriad of expressions flickered through your face, fear, surprise, anger. He took them all in with delight. The buzz of anticipation from before rose to a crescendo, he couldn’t wait to see what you’d do.
Would you beg? Offer to pay him for your life?
Despite coming in your apartment with a clear directive, he wasn’t sure exactly what he’d do if you asked him to spare your life.
Not important, focus.
You didn’t do anything he expected. Instead of a blubbering mess, you were composed, if not a little annoyed.
If he didn’t already know it before, it was clear you valued your small possessions. You seemed to care about the puzzles more than your own life.
It made him angry.
Who were you to throw him off? Why were you doing this to him? This is not how this was supposed to go.
He got within a hairsbreadth of your face, trying to intimidate you. Break the facade. It didn’t work, you only seemed more annoyed by the attempt.
Until you weren’t. Something about his stance towering over you seemed to ignite a thought process. He wasn’t a mind reader, but he could tell the cause of your discomfort pretty easily.
He let you go quickly, as if he were burned. He would not hurt you, not like that.
Dex weighed his options. Killing you would make things a lot simpler, both with Moretti and the urges in his mind. This is what he knew best, the only real thing he’s good for. You would be no problem to take care of.
Only issue? The more he thought about putting a bullet in your head, the more he was sure that was the last thing he wanted to do.
This wasn’t even his typical area. The snitches he usually tracked down had blood on their hands, a dark past they were scrambling to escape.
You weren’t necessarily a good person, you didn’t volunteer at food drives or regularly give to charity, but nothing warranted your death. There was no scale for him to equal.
You were just in the wrong place at the wrong time.
He’d reached his decision. Fuck Moretti, he’d deal with that weasel bitch later. For now, he’d have to get you shuffled off to bed.
There was something he was itching to do since he got there.
He didn’t show up that day.
Your off day was spent with anxious anticipation, like he would randomly jump out of your cabinets and scare you shitless.
Despite your worry (hope), Knives never showed. You took a page out of Matthew’s book and gave him a nickname, if only to avoid calling him ‘the man’ in your head.
The more you thought about it, the more perplexed you were.
A masked killer came into your home, had a fairly civil conversation with you, then did your chores?
No matter how much you thought about it, none of that made sense. You should have been dead days ago. If they decided not to kill you, they should at least know by now you weren’t going to snitch.
You didn’t even consider calling the police.
You groaned, head tilting back against your apartment elevator. Your day at work had been relatively uneventful.
Nobody really spoke to you much, sans Matthew who always had something to say. This time about your dark circles and whether or not you had a mental breakdown. And he wondered why his girlfriend left him.
You cracked open bleary eyes to look at yourself in the metal walls and winced. Maybe they had a point, you wouldn’t talk to yourself either looking like this.
There was prominent darkness under your eyes, framing the haunted look within them. Your face was pinched in a permanent frown, and you lifted up a hand to relax the expression.
The elevator doors opened with a ding, and you started the trek over to your door. You raised a hand to unlock it, pausing half way.
Putting your keys back in your pocket, you tried the handle of your door. It opened easily.
Your heartbeat quickened but you didn’t halt your movement, continuing inside the apartment. Everything was just like you left it earlier, dim lights and the tv on as background noise.
You took slow steps to the center of the room, spinning in a circle. He wasn’t there.
The living room and kitchen were both empty, and you didn’t know whether to be happy about that or not.
Why would he just leave your door unlocked when he wasn’t even here? There were robbers in the area, what if someone happened to try your door?
You ran a hand through your hair, barking a laugh. You had forgotten for a moment who he was. He was not a friend or visitor that would care whether or not you were robbed.
But why would he clean your house then?
You weren’t sure if you’d ever find the answer to that last question.
Still on edge, you tip-toed towards your couch, where you unceremoniously dumped your bag and coat. Stretching out your shoulders, you walked towards the bedroom.
You were expecting a boiling shower with warm pajamas to slip into before crashing. You were not expecting a six-foot something man to be leaning over your bedside drawer, rifling through its contents.
“Hey!” You said, equally in surprise and indignation. “That’s private. Put that down.”
Brown eyes flicked up to you from where he’d been reading your notebook. It wasn’t a diary per se, but it held some personal thoughts you’d rather stayed private.
Knives leisurely sat the book on your bed, putting up his hands in faux surrender. “Were you looking for me?”
His voice was just as gravelly as the first night, snaking over your ears. It was much lighter however, he sounded almost… happy?
You cleared your throat, fighting back a shiver. “What?” Did he see you searching your apartment like a goof? Probably.
You could see his lips curl into a smirk beneath the mask, capturing your attention for a moment.
You wondered what he would look like without it.
You could see more of him in the daylight, like the light eyelashes framing his eyes and the similar tone of his eyebrows. The mask was filled out with a sharp frame, and you could see the cut of prominent cheekbones under the fabric.
“Nothing. What’s that about?” He nodded towards your notebook he had been reading.
He was still holding his hands up, for what you had no idea. Maybe he thought it was funny to act like you were the one in power here.
“It’s a notebook, you write in them.” You didn’t care to go over your innermost thoughts with a stranger, briskly avoiding the subject.
His eyes flashed in an emotion you couldn’t place, hands finally coming down to rest at his sides. “How was work?” He asked placidly.
What?
The hell?
Your eyes burned with tears that had yet to fall, sucking in a sharp breath to compose yourself. “Haven’t you had enough? I have been waiting for the day you finally-“ you waved your hands around animatedly. “And then you just-“
He only stared on with the same solid expression.
You took another breath, “Are you going to kill me or not?”
“No.”
You swore you could feel your heartbeat hiccup, “No?”
Before you could pull it back, the words were out of your mouth. “Why not?”
You regretted the question immediately, watching as his eyes darkened.
There was a stretch of silence, and you were wondering how to do damage control when he spoke again, “Because I don’t want to. You…”
His gaze rakes up and down your frame. “You aren’t my North Star, no, something else. I want to find out what you are.”
Your words were little more than a whisper. “What I am?”
He sauntered towards you, slow as if walking towards a spooked animal. Or like he was hunting one. He only stopped once he was directly in front of you, toe to toe.
“Yes, I’m going to watch you and learn you. Why I feel this urge to-“ he cuts off abruptly, eyes widened in surprise.
“I’m not going to hurt you.”
It seems like he wasn’t even prepared for what the answer was.
You stared at him, heartbeat still thundering in your ears. It was silly to believe a masked intruder from his words, but you did.
Nothing about that seemed like a lie. Despite what he’d initially found you for, he didn’t look like he wanted you dead. So, you believed him.
Your only worry was what he would do with you.
“O-Okay.” Was all you said before grabbing your clothes out the dresser and locking yourself in the bathroom.
You could only hope you turned fast enough that he didn’t see the redness in your face.
He was gone from the bedroom when you got out the shower. Everything was put back in its place, there was no sign of him. It made you wonder how many times he looked through your things without you knowing.
It should’ve made you unnerved… it didn’t.
He said he wanted to learn you. That you weren’t a north star. What did that mean? Why were you kind of excited about finding out?
You sniffed the air, there was a smell drifting from your kitchen filled with spices and butter. Like it were activated, your stomach suddenly released a large growl.
It seemed no matter how shocked you could get, there were still more surprises, Knives was at the stove, stirring something in a pot. You could see your oven was on as well, the light showing loaves of garlic bread on a sheet inside.
“You should go start a puzzle, it’ll be another five minutes.” He spoke without turning around, still continuing to stir the pot on the stove.
There’s a breaking point in a persons life where they stop asking questions. You were at that point.
So you pushed aside the wonder of why he was cooking, or where he even got the ingredients from, and sat down in your lounge chair.
You froze. It smelled like him. Gunpowder and metal, with a tinge of spearmint, the chairs leather still held a hint of him. You wondered how many times you could breathe it in without him noticing.
He was still focused on the food…
No. Stop. Get yourself together. You can’t just turn into a weirdo at the first attractive man you meet. Who’s to say he’s even attractive? He could be hideous under that mask.
You glanced over at him, eyeing the broadness of his shoulders and the muscle shifting under cloth.
You didn’t notice before, but he had taken off his gloves. His hands were big but deft, he probably would’ve made a good piano player in another life.
The evidence of this life was there as well. White scars marred his hands and trailed up his forearm to disappear under his shirt sleeve. You had no doubt they continued to the rest of his body too.
You tried to remind yourself of what those hands could do, why they were dangerous. Unfortunately your brain didn’t think it was that important at the moment, because the only thing you could remember is how they felt on your face.
You shook off the thoughts, blindly grabbing the closest puzzle box to you, it was a city landscape.
The pieces tumbled onto your living room table, sound echoing throughout the apartment. The only other sound past your moving pieces was the crackle of fire in the kitchen.
You needed some background noise.
You clicked on the tv, the low droning of the weather report filling the empty space. The screen had half your attention, but that was enough for your ears to perk when you heard the next segment of the news.
“And here we have the aftermath of another brawl from the vigilante known as Daredevil, he was in this very warehouse last night when the reports of gunfire started-“
The newscaster was one you’d seen before, usually for the more serious cases around the city. Her mouth was set in a hard line as she continued her warning.
“-advising all citizens to report any vigilante activity to the NYPD or AVTF whenever you become aware. If you do encounter Daredevil, do not engage-“
The tv went out in a wink, making you flinch. Like a bullet, a flying quarter had hit the power button dead center on your remote. Didn’t need many guesses to know where it came from.
The man in question was sauntering over with a steaming plate, glaring at the tv like it had personally offended him.
“You could’ve just asked me to turn it off.” You mutter, loud enough for him to hear you.
He didn’t answer, setting the plate in front of you with a clink. “Eat.”
You looked from him to the plate of food, then back again. It looked wonderful, a creamy heap of pasta with sautéed vegetables and garlic bread. It was all neatly arranged on your only kitchenware you hadn’t chipped.
You only wondered why the hell he had cooked it.
He seemed to misread your trepidation, leaning down to tug up a corner of his mask and shovel in a bit of the pasta. “Not poisoned. Not my style.” He said after a thick swallow.
The flash of lips, regardless how quick, distracted you. You stared on as a pink tongue flicked out to swipe at his mouth before he tugged the mask back down. It took you another few seconds to get it together.
“I know. You prefer to give people a million paper cuts.”
To your surprise, knives barked out a laugh, “That’s one way of putting it, sure.”
You turned to the food and started eating in an attempt to bypass the awkwardness. It was hard to suppress a groan when the first bit hit your mouth, the food was as good as it looked. If not better.
Do all hitmen take culinary classes or was it just his hobby?
You thought he would find something else to do, maybe vanish into thin air like he’d never been there at all, but the man chose to sit right across from you on the couch.
Dark eyes fixated on you as you ate in complete focus. He didn’t seem to want more conversation, just be a spectator. His only movement was circling a small knife around in his hand, but the movement didn’t seem threatening, more absentminded than anything else.
You didn’t realize how hungry you were until you were finishing the meal in record time, only clearing your throat to speak once you’d cleared the last bite, “It was great, thank you.”
He was grabbing the plate from you before you could even offer to clean up, making his way back to the kitchen and placing it inside your dishwasher with the other used pots and pans.
“Really, you don’t have to-“ you started, but he was already finished and walking back over to you.
“I know. I don’t have to do anything at all, advantages of self employment.” It was clear by his tone and the crinkle of his eyes that he was smirking. He took his time walking back to the couch, this time spreading his arms across the back in the appearance of complete comfortability.
What he said made you curious, “You don’t work for the man at the train?”
He tilted his head as if considering the answer. “I don’t work for anyone,” a new tinge of bitterness coated his tone, “but if you’re referring to the bozo who took a hit out on you, yes. I was the one given the assignment.”
“Ah, I figured.” The response came out more nonchalant than intended, but he truly didn’t tell you anything you hadn’t already suspected.
“You’re not bothered by that?”
You shrugged, “Nah, I trust you.” You meant for it to be fully sarcastic, and almost succeeded, but there was a bit of honesty that shone through. Against all better judgement and sound mind, you did trust him.
He stared at you, only providing a small scoff and muttering under his breath as response.
With the newfound silence, you decided to follow his earlier request and complete the puzzle that was started. You almost invited him to do it with you, but your mouth closed with a snap after looking over at him.
He seemed to be lost in thought about something, dark blonde eyebrows furrowed as he stared somewhere out your window.
Your eyes went back to the puzzle, the only sounds being the soft scrape of the pieces and faint breathing. You grimaced while reaching for some of the further pieces, the movement had aggravated the neck pain you usually had after a long shift.
Rolling your neck in a circle only slightly helped, there was still a crick in the muscle that most likely wouldn’t go away until after a lengthy soak in epsom salt.
Your distracted mind was only half aware of the other figure rising from the couch and making his way over to you.
“Sit back.”
You looked behind you in surprise, wondering how he’d gotten right behind your chair without you knowing. “Why?” You weren’t really concerned about the request, just curious what he intended.
“I can’t keep watching you do that without doing something. Sit back.” He tapped the headrest for emphasis.
Okay, bossy.
You rolled your eyes but did as he asked, sliding back to fully rest in the chair. It was a moment of nothing until you felt warmth against your shoulder blades.
You let out a full body flinch at the contact, but his hands didn’t falter, continuing a path from your shoulders into the sides of your neck. Strong thumbs dug into the muscles and nerves causing you pain, and you couldn’t keep a satisfied sigh from seeping out.
You practically melted into his hands as they traveled over every aching part of your back. Every time he dispelled a knot it knocked a quiet sound out of you.
It was firm but precise, every drag of his warm calloused hands left a tingling sensation in their wake. You couldn’t help but think about what else his hands could do…
The idea created a burning within you. The smell and feel of him so close was dangerous, and you were already wanting more of it. Needing more of it. You were absently aware of his breathing kicking up, almost delving into a pant in your ears.
He eventually slowed down, rubbing his fingers in circular motions on the top of your spine before retreating completely. He didn’t retreat too far, barely taking a step back as he stood behind your chair.
You didn’t look at him, focusing on calming your breathing and not appearing like the mess you were on the inside. You didn’t need a mirror to know your the flushed expression you wore.
You opened your mouth, then closed it, not trusting yourself to beg for his hands to touch you again.
He spoke before you could work up the nerve of a response, “I have to go.”
“Wait-” But it was too late, he was already closing the front door when you turned around.
Knives arrived more frequently after that night.
He didn’t stay as long, or touch you again, (much to your disappointment) but he would usually pop in without rhyme or reason with gifts and a bit of conversation.
You never asked him for anything, but he somehow always knew what you needed.
A new detergent when the old one just ran out, some more butter in the fridge, your favorite ice cream when you were craving it.
As far as you remembered, you never told him what your favorite flavor was, nor did you ever have one in the freezer since meeting him. He still knew.
Someone knowing so much about you should’ve probably unnerved you, but it only gave you a sense of serenity. You didn’t have to worry about explaining yourself to him, there was no pressure on your end. He just watched, and learned.
Except in one area. He seemed to be oblivious to your attraction to him, not flirting with you even once. There were his snarky remarks and knowing smirks sure, but that seemed to be less hitting on you and just more of who he was.
Unless, he does know you’re into him and just doesn’t feel the same so he’s ignoring it.
You brushed the thought off, sighing as you unlocked the door to your apartment. It was really no use wondering about it, even with all the time spent with Knives, you barely had a clue what was going on in his head.
Besides, after the day you’d had it was hard to think about anything else.
To say it was a bad shift would be an understatement. You’d overslept that morning, rushing through your morning routine but still arriving twenty-five minutes late to clock in.
It was a rare busy day in the store, and you could barely push past people to get to your register.
“About time.” Matthew shot you a dirty look between filing away the bills in his hand.
Your job was severely understaffed, and today was no different, which meant that in your absence Matthew had to handle the hordes of people on his own.
You gave him an apologetic nod, waving the next person in line over to you. Soon enough, the lines dwindled into nothing as the rush passed.
You wiped your sweaty hands on your pants leg, signing out of the POS to go work on other things. A stack of boxes caught your eye, and you moved closer to start unpacking the items inside.
“Go do the inventory. He wants it in the front on the orange display.” Snapped Matthew behind you. He was pointing at the very boxes you were already walking towards.
You didn’t bother correcting him in saying you were already going to do that, instead giving a curt nod.
“What, you can’t speak today? Didn’t take your meds?” He raised a brow, grinning at you.
Breathe, don’t let him get to you.
“I’m just going to do my job.”
His grin only widened at your answer. “Heh, okay. You do that.”
You ignored him, quickly pulling a dolly from the back transport the boxes to the front of the store.
You wiped a hand over your brow, starting to sweat with the effort. It would be a lot easier with two people, but like hell you were going to ask that asshole.
Matthew wasn’t really nice to anyone, except maybe the new hires he wanted to flirt with, but you still never understood why he seemed to hate you so much.
Because you’re always the odd man out, the one no one really likes, the one-
“Shut up.” You spat out the words, making sure you were quiet enough for no one else to hear. Matthew didn’t need more ammunition to call you crazy.
You directed your attention to the store display and away from your bleak thoughts. You couldn’t help what others thought of you, the only thing you could do at the moment was finish the stupid display and move onto your other work.
You vacantly slapped the folded clothes onto the shelves, mind drifting elsewhere.
I bet knives never had to work in retail.
You’d be very surprised if he ever had a real job before. Trying to imagine his scowling face behind a cash register made a chuckle bubble within you.
He’d probably stab someone on his first day.
Shit, he can stab Matthew for all I care.
You half scolded yourself at the thought, realizing how fucked up it sounded to wish that someone stab your coworker. You weren’t as upset by the thought as you could’ve been.
There was a sharp creaking noise, and before you could react, the metal shelf you had been stacking on crashed down on your arm.
“Shit-” You jumped back to avoid falling with it, but the damage had been done. The edge of the shelf dug a cut down your forearm that was already spurting blood over you and the merchandise.
“Oh no, shit, shit, shit-” You couldn’t think straight, only standing there in a panic as you gripped your bloody arm.
“What the fuck did you do now?” If you thought Matthew was mad at you before, he was pissed now. “I asked you to do one simple thing and you can’t even do that? Who’s gonna clean this shit up?”
He’d left a customer at the desk to see what the sound was, but he didn’t seem to care about their existence as he yelled at you.
“Fuckin disability hire, can’t even stock a shelf. I don’t know why you’re standing there, you should be-”
You didn’t wait for him to finish, bumping into him as you rushed towards the back room with tears in your eyes.
Don’t cry. Don’t you dare cry in front of him, he’s not worth it.
You ignored his calls for you to come back, slamming your work locker open and grabbing your things. You didn’t even bother clocking out, only stopping by the lunch corner to grab paper towels and wipe down your arm.
The harsh wind from outside only aggravated your eyes more, but you steeled yourself against the cold.
You got plenty weird looks on the train ride home, but nobody said anything to you. It was probably the mix of blood staining your hands and scowl that discouraged conversation.
A ten minute ride followed by a brisk walk brought you back to where you were, standing at your apartment door with an aching cut.
You shouldered the door open with your uninjured side, immediately dropping your things to the ground once you were inside.
The cut hurt like a bitch and was still freely bleeding, but you shouldn’t need stitches or anything dramatic. The med kit from under your sink in the bathroom should more than suffice.
You turned the corner towards the bathroom, but stopped short at the figure standing there.
The visitor was more expected than not these days, but you didn’t think he’d be here this early since he usually met you after your shift.
“What did I say about taking care of your things?” He half turned from the window where you assumed he’d watched you come in.
You’d usually muster up something equally as playful in response, but this time, you were not in the mood.
He seemed to sense the shift, whipping his head over to you. It didn’t take long for his eyes to rake over you, gaze landing on your right arm.
“Who did that?” His demeanor changed completely after seeing the injury, voice turning steely.
It only took a few strides for him to reach you, hand snapping out to grasp your forearm. His eyes were blazing with anger behind his mask and he looked two seconds away from disemboweling someone.
Even though you knew his anger wasn’t with you; it still took a moment to stutter out a response, “No one, I-i did it myself. Well, not did it, it wasn’t on purpose. An accident at work.”
Your clarification didn’t seem to calm him much.
He stepped to your side, scooping an arm under your legs to pull you to his chest, his other arm supporting your back. He walked towards your bathroom with purpose.
You let out a squawk of surprise at being airborne, “Hey, I can still walk. It’s just a cut, you don’t have to carry me.”
“Blood loss causes dizziness, and it looks like you’ve already lost too much.” Someone would’ve thought you were bleeding out by how aggravated he sounded.
You didn’t want to mention that the main reason you were dizzy was his close proximity, not the injury. You were closer to him than you ever were before, and you couldn’t stop yourself from taking in a deep whiff. Blood, metal, mint.
He knocked your bathroom door open with enough strength to make it rattle, marching over to your closed toilet where he set you down gently but firmly.
As always, he knew where you put everything, so you didn’t have to direct him as he pulled out your small med kit.
It was just the buzz of the fluorescent lights for noise as he rummaged through the kit, occasionally pulling out select items he’d need.
You watched as hazel eyes narrowed in concentration, stomach doing a flip at how focused he was on helping you. How caring.
There was a mix of disinfectant and many bandages on the counter (more than you’d probably need), and he looked over them quickly before washing his hands and snapping on latex gloves.
“It’s going to hurt, you can hold onto me if you need to.” Was the only warning you got before he was gripping your arm with one hand and wiping down the cut with the other.
The antibacterial liquid was cold and stinging, you let out a sharp hiss at the stab of pain. As the blood was cleaned away, you could see that the cut was a bit deeper than you thought.
“I-ah, you don’t think I’ll need stitches, right?” You were a bit scared to ask, his frown had only deepened once he started working on you.
“No. It’s not to that point, but you’ll need to keep it wrapped tightly for a while so the skin can join back together.”
And he was right, after cleaning the wound thoroughly, he stuck some hefty bandages over the opening and wrapped it all in a tight cover of gauze.
He tucked the end of the fabric inside to secure it, and tugged off his gloves to clear away the mess of dirty wipes and wrappers on the counter.
You didn’t bother thanking him, knowing by now that he wouldn’t accept it.
You looked down at his work, neat as usual. You startled as a pill bottle was being shaken in front of you, eyes focusing to read the label.
“It doesn’t really hurt that much.”
He shook it again, insisting, “It will later, take one.”
You knew there was no chance of changing his mind, and it didn’t seem like the worst idea, so you grabbed the container and swallowed down one of the pills.
Satisfied, Knives leaned back against the wall opposite you, muscular arms folded over his chest.
Despite his quietness, you could still sense the underlying anger rolling off him. Knowing the answer, you asked anyway, “Are you upset?”
“Explain what happened.”
You hesitated for a moment, then started the retelling of what happened that day. You kept your composure for the most part, voice only hitching when you repeated what your coworker had said about you.
Knives stood stock still through it all, watching with that calm dangerous air that he had.
By the time you were done, you felt the telltale signs of tears, but you pushed it down again. You didn’t want it to bother you, but it did. After a life of dealing with rejection, it still stung.
A warm hand lifted up your chin, thumb swiping away tears you weren’t aware had fallen. “You don’t deserve that, none of it. It won’t happen again.” There wasn’t an ounce of question in his tone, he was sure of it.
You let out a weak laugh, sniffling. “I could only hope, he’ll probably be worse after today though. Especially since I left early.”
He hummed, “I’ve always disliked the name Mathew, all of them are annoying.” He sounded like he usually did again, slightly amused as if he were in on a joke that you weren’t.
You laughed again, stronger this time. “I can’t say I’ve had experience with that many Matthew’s to agree with you.”
He ran his thumb over your cheek one more time before backing away. “Trust me, they are. You should take tomorrow off.”
There he goes again, giving demands veiled as suggestions.
“I would love to, but unfortunately some of us common folk need jobs, and if I call out again I’ll probably be u employed. I’m sure you’ve never worked one, so it’s hard to understand.” Your tone was playfully mocking, but it was the truth. There was no way your manager was going to be okay with that, plus, you needed to make up for the money lost by leaving early.
“I have.” He adverted his eyes to your left, “worked a job that is.”
You perked up, it was rare that the man offered information past what model his knives were, and you didn’t want to lose the opportunity to learn more about him.
“Oh really? As what?” You kept your tone light, to not seem like you were prying.
“An officer.”
“Like, a police officer?”
“No. Not exactly.”
You blinked in confusion.
He shifted in his stance, like the conversation was suddenly making him uncomfortable. “Agent, would be the better term. I-” He paused, finding the right words. “I locked away the monsters of the world, and protected the people I needed to.”
You cocked a brow, “So, you were a spy?”
He huffed, giving you a look. “No. How the hell did you get spy out of that?”
“You are amazingly vague at every answer, I figured it would fit.” You shrugged, wincing when the movement aggravated the skin of your arm.
He zoned in on the expression, eyes narrowing again. “You should go to bed, especially if you’re insisting on going to work tomorrow.”
It was clear that was all the answers you’d get out of him, this night at least. You let out a huff of breath, using the counter to pull yourself into a standing position.
There was a wave of wooziness, and you fought to keep balance. Clearly the pill was doing its job.
An arm snaked around to your back, steadying you as you walked to your bedroom. As if there were an invisible barrier, he stopped at the threshold. In the dim lighting, you could only see the dark outline of him and the glint of metal strapped to his person.
To anyone else it would be menacing, terrifying even, to have the attention of the killer focused on them. You only craved more of it.
“There’s soup in your fridge if you want it. Change the wrapping in the morning, it shouldn’t cause any issues before then.”
You could only blame the strength of the pain pill for your lack of restraint, “Do you have to leave right now?”
A pause. “I do. I have something else to take care of.”
You tried not to take it as a dismissal, but it hurt nonetheless.
Something else. Not you.
“Right, okay.” The disappointment was obvious in your voice.
Steady steps made their way over to your bedside, “I don’t want to, but are some things I need to do. I’ll see you soon.”
You could barely make out the shape of him standing over you, drowsiness and the pain medicine muddling things together. “Aye, aye captian.”
A deep chuckle, and then a quiet response, “Dex.”
Dex. It suits him. You couldn’t tell if you’d said the name aloud or in your head, already giving way to unconsciousness.
The last thing you felt was a hand lightly trailing down your face before blackness.
Other than feeling like a sledgehammer hit you, your next day at work was uncharacteristically peaceful.
Even though Matthew was scheduled alongside you for the week, he never showed up for work that day.
Or the next day. Or the next one after that.
He didn’t call out, and based on the grumble from your manager, hadn’t quit either.
You never said anything, never even thought the words in your head, but you knew what happened.
If you were really honest with yourself, you knew what was going to happen when you heard the assurance in his voice that you wouldn’t have any more problems.
Kni-No-Dex, was a killer, regardless of how he treated you. You knew how he solved problems.
You were a little nervous at how little it bothered you. You had the same tingling feeling you got when he replaced one of the lightbulbs in your apartment without asking.
Cared for.
But there was another problem, Dex was nowhere to be seen either. He’d never shown up again after that night, and you were starting to get concerned.
Even though he didn’t show up every single day, missing several days in a row was out of character for him. You could only hope that he wasn’t dead or arrested somewhere.
It seemed silly to worry about him, especially with how competent he seemed. You didn’t steadily watch the news, but everyone in the city had heard of a man in a blue mask who could lodge a knife in your head faster than you could blink.
Bullseye.
He’d never told you it was him, but you weren’t an idiot, all the traits aligned. Not to mention his name, Dex, most likely short for Benjamin Pointdexter. The man who was sent to prison a while back for murder.
You didn’t care about any of that. Your only concern was that he was M.I.A. and it was out of character.
Maybe he just got bored, found someone else.
You ignored the slithering thought, knowing it’s not true.
Despite not knowing all of his life, you knew him, he was obsessive to a fault. His cleanliness, the order of his knives, and seeing you all fell into a cycling routine that he didn’t stray from.
He wouldn’t just dissapear.
Your leg shook nervously as you focused on the television. The news was covering a recent stock drop or something related. You were half listening for anything that could be related to him.
You were sure that an extremely wanted convict being detained would make front page news, so if anything happened, they’d talk about it here.
So far, it was nothing of substance, just the economy and a new court case with the slime-ball mayor.
You were shaking your leg so vigorously that you almost didn’t hear it at first. Your hand shot out, muting the tv before straining your ears.
There it was, a soft shuffling sound coming from your bedroom. You jumped up, heart fluttering in your chest as you rushed over there.
You only stopped short of your bedroom door to grab a nearby book, just in case it wasn’t Dex in your room and you needed a weapon.
Turns out, it was unnecessary, you saw him immediately upon entering, slumped against your open window.
“Dex-” His name was expelled in a relieved breath, but you only grew concerned again the more you looked at him.
Dark patches covered his mask and the fabric of his suit. His gloves were on, but you could see the clear glisten of blood coating them.
“Hey. Thought you’d be asleep. I can go soon, just gotta take a breather.”
You scoffed indignantly, quickly going over to him, “A breather? Jesus, what happened?”
“Not Jesus, just me.”
You glared at him. It was not the time for jokes, definitely not as he was dripping blood on your floor.
“You can explain later, here.” You supported him under his shoulder as you guided him to your bed.
“Gonna get it dirty.” He pushed back slightly as you tried to sit him down, but fell back anyway when you applied more force.
“It’s okay, I have other sheets. I’m worried about you right now.”
You could tell he was smirking based off the look in his eyes, further proven by the next statement. “Worried about me?”
You didn’t even bother hiding the emotion in your response, “Yes, I do. A lot.”
That made him quiet, glinting eyes searching your face for any hint of a joke or lie. He seemed to find none, but had no response for you. It was hard to tell his full expression behind the mask, and you found yourself sick of it.
Besides, it’s not like you didn’t know who he was.
Your fingers curled under the edge, lifting it gently, but a firm grip on your wrist stopped you.
“Ben, it’s okay.”
His eyes widened in slight surprise at your use of his first name, but it did the trick. The hand holding you fell away and you pulled the fabric fully off his face.
You sucked in a breath at the injuries before you. A trickle of blood coated his blond grey-flecked hair where it stuck to his forehead, and there was a bruise blooming on his cheekbone.
The lips you had admired not that long ago were sporting a cut, but even with all that, Dex didn’t appear to be in a lot of pain. His face showed an openness and tiredness that you’d never seen on him before.
Without thinking, you raised a hand to brush lightly over his mouth, relishing in the slight flutter of his eyelids as you did so.
You couldn’t stop, addicted to the reaction. Your hand trailed from his lips to the side of his face, and over his sharp jawbone. You mapped out everything that was hidden to you before, ignoring the smear of blood on your hand.
His piercing gaze stayed fixed on you as he pressed his head into your palm. His only other movement was twitching hands where they rested over his thighs. He stayed still, not trying to stop you or rush you, just accepting.
It wasn’t until your fingertips brushed over his throat that he shivered beneath you. The movement was nearly imperceptible, but he had definitely tilted his head back slightly to give you more access.
It made something swirl in your abdomen. How much he trusted you, how willing he was beneath your hands. How good he looked, injuries and all.
You told him as such, and his eyebrows knit together like he had been hit.
“Don’t say that, you don’t know what you’re starting.” His voice was weak, barely a whisper in the quiet of the room.
“I do.”
“No you don’t. You said you care about me, I’m not easy to care for.” The words weren’t said in self deprecation or a stab at sympathy, just factual. He truly believed that care and tenderness wasn’t made for him.
It sent a pang through your heart, for so many years you held a similar sentiment about yourself. You were difficult to understand-to accept, but he did, and you could do the same for him.
“I know.” You held his face in both palms, a hairsbreadth away from him, “Neither am I.”
Your lips meeting his seemed to ignite action within him, hands that were previously dormant snapping up to grab at your hips firmly.
You were pulled down to straddle his lap, already feeling a poking hardness in the fabric. It was your turn to shiver, giving an experimental grind forward as you continued to kiss him breathlessly.
That caused a deep groan to flood from his throat into your mouth. He quickly found purchase over your ass to guide you into repeating the movement.
While you grinded over the hard length in his pants, his tongue explored the expanse of your mouth, flicking over the ridges and smoothness inside. You could taste the uniqueness of him, but also the metallic tang of blood from his lip.
You only pulled away to breathe once the burning in your chest couldn’t be ignored. Chest heaving, you pulled back and watched as he did the same.
He couldn’t seem to see enough of you, eyes raking from your chest down your frame and back again. His lips were swollen and spit slicked, and you were sure you had a similar look of dishevelment.
His hands trailed up your spine and back down to where you sat on top of him. You could hear the swallow he took before speaking, “If I’m going to have you, it’s going to be all of you. If you go through with this, you’re not leaving me, you get that?” His voice was steady despite being out of breath, tone deadly serious.
You could read between the lines for the warning. There was no going back for Dex if you continued, no breakups, no do-overs.
Lucky for him you didn’t want any.
In lieu of response, you surged forward, attacking his mouth with your own as you drug yourself firmly over his crotch.
You gasped out a moan as the movement caught between your legs, right where you needed it most. But it wasn’t enough. You needed to be closer.
You shrugged off your top, throwing it to an unseen side of the room. Another shiver racked your body as lips made use of the newly exposed skin, nipping and sucking over your chest and sternum.
His fingers grabbed onto the latch of your bra, but you stopped him short. “No, get out of that suit first.”
He backed away from you with a half lidded gaze, trademark smirk flicking on his lips. “Yes ma’am.”
He seemed to enjoy watching you squirm as he unlatched all the zippers and buttons of his suit, moving much slower than necessary. The utility belt came off first, knives clinking as he threw them on your nightstand. The top part of his suit was soon to follow, dark fabric peeling away to reveal fair skin.
He wasn’t as injured as you’d assumed, just a dark blooming bruise on his ribs and left shoulder. Every other mark was old and weathered, the raised scars scattered across his torso spoke of years of pain.
You took him in unabashedly, eyes raking over pronounced pectorals and the defined abs that covered his stomach. Light hair dusted his chest and led in a trail past the waistband of his pants.
His smirk only widened as he watched you watching him. Patiently waiting, he sat there for your next move.
It was only fair that you lost the next bit of clothing, so you rose off him to shimmy out of your pants, leaving the underwear on.
His brow rose as he caught onto the little game you were playing. His pants came off quickly after, joining yours in a dark heap.
The only thing shielding the prominent bulge in his lap was dark grey briefs. They didn’t leave much to the imagination, clinging to the long rod of him and wrapping around solid thighs. You could see a dark patch in the fabric where he’d already started leaking, your core throbbing in response.
You settled on his lap again, smiling at the soft hiss he let out from the pressure. Your hand wrapped around his wrist, guiding him to your bra clasp as you trailed fingertips past the waistband of his briefs.
His fingers deftly unlatched the clasp, and the cover fell away right as you pulled his length free.
It slapped loudly against his lower stomach, smearing white across his skin and your hand.
His eyes weren’t focused on that though, only staring at your chest with intimidating focus. “God, the things I want’ta do to you.”
It was spoken under his breath so quietly, you were unsure if the words were meant for you to hear.
“So do them.”
He only laughed, leaning back on his elbows to watch you.
He knew what you wanted, he just wasn’t going to give it to you that easily. Your frustration only made him impossibly harder.
Despite his blasé act, you could see you were having an effect on him. Every rock of your hips made his cock twitch, a bead of white dribbling out the top. His neck and chest were covered in a flush, and every breath he took seemed labored. Shaky.
You decided to play his own game, fuck with him a little, “C’mon Dex, show me what you promised.”
You reached down, rubbing a thumb over the leaking slit between you. He let out a breathy moan, hips involuntarily bucking up into you.
You didn’t stop in your ministrations, leaning down to speak directly in his ear. “You said you wanted all of me, so take it. You have me.”
Your words caused another twitch in your hand. “You have me, I’m yours.”
The words were barely out your mouth when you were flipped onto your back, bouncing against the mattress. You let out a startled giggle at the movement, only sobering when you looked down.
The look Dex gave you made your heart stutter for a moment. The only way you could describe it was carnivorous. His eyes were dark and shadowed, and if you didn’t know him well enough to recognize the want in his expression, he looked almost pissed off.
It only made wetness pool in your core.
“You want this?” He left a trail of open mouthed kisses down your stomach.
It was a rhetorical question, but you nodded anyway.
“Where do you want me? Here?” He bit at your hipbone, soothing the flesh with a lick afterwards.
“Or here?” His breath ghosted across the damp patch of your panties, making you thrum in anticipation.
“Yes, right there.” Any more dilly dallying and you’d probably start begging. You had a feeling that’s exactly what he wanted.
“Hmm, interesting.” He ignored the area, trailing lips down your inner thighs. His hands gripped your knees, preventing you from closing yourself off to him.
He bit random spots all the way down your thigh, licking a stripe on the way up.
“Dex- c’mon.” You huffed. The feeling of his mouth on yours was amazing, but it wasn’t nearly enough and he knew it.
“Whose are you?” The words are spoken into your skin, in the crease of your hip.
“Yours.”
“And who do I belong to?” He grasped the waistband of your underwear between his teeth, dragging them down slowly.
“Me.”
You only saw the flash of a smile before his mouth was on you fully. You let out a shuddering moan as his lips latched onto your clit, sucking hard.
He juggled between your bundle of nerves and trailing his tongue down to your entrance, licking inside.
You could feel him groan against you as you grabbed a fistful of his hair, holding him steady.
Between your existing wetness and his mouth, you were soaking, juices dripping down to the bedsheets past his mouth.
His mouth traveled up again to focus on your nub while one of his hands snaked around to press two fingers against your entrance.
They slipped in easily, quickly building a rhythm trusting into you while his tongue lapped at you from the outside.
You couldn’t even make a sound as your peak quickly approached, your body just seized with the amount of pleasure rolling through you.
Your eyesight blanked out, and you took a few heaving breaths before you were able to find your voice again.
Even as your moans turned to over sensitive whimpers, he didn’t let up, only slowing down the movement of his hands and mouth. He seemed to be lost in the action, only focused on you and your enjoyment.
You had to yank his head back to get him to stop, and he did so with a bit of reluctance.
His hands trailed over you, running smoothing circles over your hips and legs.
Impatiently, you dug your heels into his back, nudging him upward towards you.
He followed happily, the same hungry expression on his face, except now there was a lack of tension. He seemed more relaxed, like he was the one who came and not you.
“I might not last too long. Don’t do this much, or at all really.” He analyzed your face after he’d said it, looking for any shift in your expression.
You were kind of shocked by the revelation, but weren’t put off by it at all. For a normal guy that looked like Dex, you’d assume they had a steady stream of people coming into their bed.
He wasn’t normal, and he definitely wasn’t the type to have one night stands. In fact, before tonight, you weren’t completely certain he was interested in sex at all.
You would’ve accepted him either way of course, but it was nice to know he shared the same want as you did.
“That’s fine, I just need you inside me.”
The words shocked a groan out of him, and he nuzzled his head into the juncture of your neck.
You could feel his hands wrap around your legs to reposition you accordingly.
He slid out of the last piece of fabric covering him and reached down to position his head at your entrance.
It slipped at first from the wetness, but after a few tries the tip caught onto you, slipping inside halfway.
The pressure punched the air out of you, mouth falling open in an ‘o’ shape. Even with his preparation it was a tight fit.
Dex let out a noise somewhere between a whine and a moan, dipping down to capture your mouth in his, siphoning heat into your mouth.
The taste of yourself on his tongue only heightened the experience, and you could barely catch your breath between that and his slow ruts forward.
Every movement pushed him further into you, and before you knew it he was sheathed inside you fully.
You both shuddered at the feeling, and you were sure you could feel every ridge and vein of him in your walls.
“Shit- you feel so good. I gotta pause for a sec.” He breathed against your mouth.
So you waited.
Until you didn’t.
His head tipped forward with a groan as you squeezed around him. One of his hands held your hip in a vice grip, sure to leave bruises later.
“Don’t do that.” His eyes flashed at you in warning.
You couldn’t even focus on a teasing response, you only wanted him to move.
Then he did, starting in shallow thrusts into you, building into longer drags where he pulled almost fully out before snapping into you again.
He grabbed your wrist, planting the palm firmly over his throat and guiding it to squeeze.
You followed the instruction even as his hand fell away, tightening around the corded muscles of his neck.
His eyes fluttered, hips stuttering before speeding up into a faster pace.
His breaths panted against your face as he pounded into you with quick succession. The angle shifted slightly, and he flashed a sharp grin at me hearing your higher pitch.
He pinpointed that spot, hitting it over and over again, only pausing to slip your ankles over his shoulders before continuing.
You couldn’t tell where you began and he ended, mind so blissed out. It was clear from your noises that you were reaching your peak again, and he slipped a hand down over your clit to accelerate it.
He didn’t rub, just pressed down his thumb firmly over you as you tightened around his shaft again.
The feeling of your fluttering walls made him follow right across the edge with you, letting out a shuddering moan as he pumped a few more times and released inside you.
All the strength seemed to sap from him once he came, body falling onto you heavily. You could still tell he was holding himself up a bit on his forearms in order to not crush you completely and you pulled him down solidly to increase the weight.
His rapid heart rate beat in unison with yours where you were pressed to his chest, the slick feeling of sweat and other fluids clinging to your bodies as he softened within you.
The time stretched on as you both sat there in breathless blissfulness, neither one eager to move positions.
His face hadn’t moved from where it sat nestled in your neck, warm breaths disturbing the strands of hair there. When he spoke, you felt it more than you heard it.
“You okay?” It was spoken with an air of unsureness that was unlike him. Based on what he’d said before, you had an idea of what his worries were.
“That was amazing.” And you weren’t lying, the entire experience had knocked a bit of your soul out your body and you were certain there’d be consequences of soreness the next day.
He made a humming noise, satisfied with the answer, and moved to lift off you.
A flare of panic lit up within you. Eventually, you’d have to go back to the real world, real responsibilities and concerns, but at the moment you didn’t want the stretch of peace to end. “Wait, not yet.”
He lowered himself back down immediately even though a frown creased his expression. “You need to get cleaned up, it might feel worse later.”
“Well,” you let out a soft chuckle, rubbing a hand along his scarred spine, “that’s for later me to worry about. Just a bit longer.”
He didn’t make much argument about it, settling his head back over your chest where he gave soft nips at your collarbone.
Despite relishing the peacefulness, there was something else nagging at your mind.
“Hey Dex?”
He hummed out a response, still mapping you out with his mouth.
“What happened?” You didn’t have to clarify, you knew he knew that you were referring to the event that caused him to show up in your room covered in blood.
A soft sigh, and he was leaning back to respond, “The one who put a hit on you, he found out that I hadn’t exactly,” he paused deliberating the words, “followed instructions. He sent a team to finish the job, and I made sure that didn’t happen.”
“I won’t let anyone hurt you.” There was a burning in his eyes that showed the extent of violence he was capable of.
The idea of him choosing to not kill you even though he’d been ordered to do so, and fighting off anyone else who tried was… rousing to say the least.
His eyes tightened in a wince of overstimulation as you involuntarily tightened around him.
“It’s gonna be a bit longer for that.” He sounded like he detested that fact just as much as you did.
You grinned, “I’ll be counting down the minutes,” you were going to continue with something teasing, but the look on his face stalled you.
The light from your open window casted a bluish tint over his face, contouring the edges of features softly. He fixed you with a searching gaze, like you were the only thing worth looking at.
“I meant what I said before,” You started, “it’s no going back for me either. I’m with you.”
He traveled up to your face silently and your eyes fluttered closed in preparation. Instead of kissing you on the lips, his mouth pressed firmly over your forehead. The touch trailed down to press two consecutive pecks over your eyelids and finally melt against your mouth.
“I’m with you.”
You knew that no matter what was coming in your lives that you weren’t afraid, fully willing to delve into the future with the person that knew you best.
Div by: @pixopix
AN: boss makes a dollar, I make a dime, I wrote this on company time. So if there’s any typos or inconsistencies… sorry. It’s minimally edited from my flow of consciousness. If anyone even reads this, lemme know what you think, is it good? Bad? Just meh? Lmk :D
aaaaaandddddd i'm gonna write about this..
We're Kissin In The Bathroom
Summary: Fwb!Peter who breaks into your house and decides to show you how much he needs you.
Warnings: Smut (18+)mdni, a little Dub Con, Jealousy, Praise kink, Possessive behavior, Breaking and entering, Knives, Restraints, Unprotected sex, Threats of captivity
Fwb!Peter who wordlessly left after dropping you home last night, like he couldn't get out of there fast enough. You on the other hand, hadn’t been able to stop replaying Peter’s words.
I mean I knew you were needy but acting like this?
Is that how you got his attention by playing the lost little whore?
You instinctively shake your head at the memory, as if it could physically admonish any and all thoughts of him. Walking down the cereal aisle of the grocery store, you try focusing on your item list instead.
You had spent the entire Sunday morning hawking your phone to check if you had any new messages from Peter. After two hours of jumping at every notification from pinterest and youtube, you decided that doing some chores to distract yourself was probably better than acting like an erratic street rat.
After the way he acted yesterday, he owed you some explanation. And if he wasn’t going to give you any, then you were just gonna have to gather every last strand of courage you could and tell him for once and for all that whatever it was between the two of you simply wasn’t working out anymore.
Fwb!Peter who had spent his entire morning patrolling around the city desperate to find something, anything, to get his mind away from thoughts of you. He had never planned on making you someone important to him, he couldn't afford to lose anyone again. This was exactly he wanted no strings attached.
But the more time he spent away from you, the more you consumed him. Helping the old lady find her lost lucky coin, saving the kitten from the hanging branch of the tall tree by the cemetery, he had tried doing everything; when nothing else worked he decided to just give in and swing back to you.
Fwb!Peter who finds you engaged deep in a conversation with the same fucking asshole from last night again. Palms fisted tight, he could feel his heart racing, his adrenaline spiking, watching the pathetic man try his sleazy moves on you.
He was half tempted to march in there and throw you over his shoulder and run away somewhere far from here. This time he doesn’t stop the arachnid taking control inside him. This time he knows what he has to do.
You were reading the ingredient list behind the two boxes in your hand, when you were suddenly ambushed by the same guy you met last night.
Admittedly, you were a little creeped out about bumping into him again mere hours of being introduced in a random frat party but you played along giving him the benefit of the doubt and besides you had your pepper spray in case things went south.
He proceeds to spend the next five minutes in the cereal aisle with you, talking about his grandma’s barbequed chicken sandwich recipe and how the last time he visited her he almost convinced her to open a deli shop around his neighborhood.
By the end of it you watch him save your number in his contact list. Just so he could send you the recipe and you could see for yourself of course.
Entering the elevator you pressed your floor number, adjusting the brown grocery bag on your hip, you fish out your keys. It was almost fully dark outside by the time you reached home.
Jabbing the keys and twisting your door open you toss the bag on the kitchen counter with a little more force than necessary. Not only hadn’t Peter still not reached out, you had now given out your number to a guy whose name you still couldn’t remember.
Taking off your jacket, you start mindlessly picking up things scattered around. As soon as you entered the living room to turn on the lights, an uncomfortable chill ran down your spine.
Something didn’t feel right. Alarm bells started going off inside your head. Theft wasn’t uncommon during these hours around this area. Not wanting to take any risk, you quietly walked back to the kitchen and picked out the biggest knife you could find.
Wielding it like a sword, you walked slowly with the stance of a fighter making as little noise as you could. Your heart thundering, you carefully turned on the lights this time. Walking around inspecting all the possible hiding spots, when nothing looked suspicious you too a deep breath and embraced yourself to go check the bedroom.
Before you could take a second step a red gloved hand tightly clamped over your mouth and pulled you back towards the intruder’s body.
You screamed as loud as you could but all that echoed was a muffled noise that probably didn’t even reach your next door neighbor. Pulling at the hand you tried using your knife but the intruder pulled it from your grip and threw it on the floor. Just as you were about to start biting at the hand you hear a defensive admission, “It’s me! It’s me Peter! Stop struggling.”
Fwb!Peter who was waiting for you to notice him the moment you entered. It wasn’t difficult for him to break the lock on your window. It concerned him gravely about your safety. But that was okay. He was here to take care of you now.
Your body completely stilled after hearing his voice. This was not what you had in mind when you imagined seeing Peter again.
One hand still pressed over your mouth, he uses the other to push your body deeper into his front, his muscles pillowing on your back. He hovers down to your ear and says “Do you think I was too generous when I pulled you from him?”
Brows furrowing, you wait for him to continue, “Talking to him again when it was me who fucked you stupid, I think you need a stronger reminder yeah.”
Eyes widening you try to twist from his grip, wanting to protest, to tell him that he had lost his mind. Panic starts to settle at the bottom of your stomach when you realized that no matter how hard you thrashed against him, he wouldn’t budge an inch.
“Shhhh its okay, it’s okay, you trust me right baby” he cooed in mock calmness. Heat creeped around your cheeks at the voice pathetically.
“You’re gonna let me do whatever I want yeah and you’re not gonna fight me okay.”
He attacks the nape of your neck; the one spot he knows would make you melt. His hot breath trickles down your spine. Goosebumps erupt all over your skin.
His tongue traces a small wet circle as he targets the spot and carefully sinks his teeth, leaving a visible mark. Your head lolls back on his shoulder, the sensation strong enough to have you dissolved into a puddle if it weren’t for his arms. “Does it turn you on to know that I’ve been watching you?”
Fwb!Peter who is dying to watch you completely at his mercy, “I wanna look at you, so I’m gonna remove my hand and you’re gonna calmly turn around on your own okay.” He hums.
When you nod your head in a hesitant yes, he gradually releases you from his hold. He lets you move so you could turn to face him. Breathless and wobbly you do as he says. It was always hypnotizing watching him in his signature red and blue suit. It made you feel important knowing that he didn’t just trust his secret with anyone.
Heartbeat hammering against your ribs, you lift your hand to gently peel off the mask from his face. Even in the soft glow of dim lights you could notice them darkening with every passing second. Watching him like this reminded you why you were never good at saying no to him.
Closing the small gap between you two, he rests his forehead on yours, his curls brushing near your eyebrows. Interlocking his fingers around your lower back, he whispered humorlessly, “Maybe I should just lock you down in a basement somewhere. No one will ever find you that way.”
Cupping your cheek with his palms he slowly brings his soft lips onto yours and kisses you, his cold skin a striking contrast to the warmth that was rapidly spreading inside you.
It started slow, both of you wanting to savor the tenderness of the moment. But then it was as if a switch had flipped inside of him.
He pried your lips open with his tongue in one stroke and started guiding your bodies towards the bed. When you bumped against the foot of the bed he stopped for a moment.
His eyes jumping and tracing every inch of your face before he bunches your shirt in his fist and helps you out of them. His fingers slip under the band of your pants next and hook them down in a quick motion.
He swipes your bottom lip with his rough thumb a few times watching them move at his will and asked in a hushed tone’ “Do you trust me?”
When you nod yes, he pushes his thumb through your lips till the bottom of his glove disappears inside your mouth. Wordlessly you hollow your cheek and start sucking. Pleased with your instant compliance, he smiles and says “Such a good little girl, I know you were dreaming about being fucked again weren’t you.”
Pulling his finger, he frantically removes the rest of your clothes and pushes you flat on the mattress. Gathering both your wrist above your head towards the corner of the corner of the headboard, he webbed them together in a restraint.
Leaning down towards your chest he sucks on one nipple while palming the other, the cold skin making you gasp. He continues alternatively before caressing the side of your waist, and trailing kisses down your stomach. His hand travelled lower till he reached your clit and started circling in motions he knew would make you squirm.
“I waited all day to do this” he hummed along your skin.
You feel him add another finger, slipping in and out in lazy movements, the wetness making it easy for him, his eyes transfixed on all the sounds you made. “Please don’t stop” you manage to push out between moans. When he feels you getting close, he pulls out his touch leaving you to twist and cry in frustration, withering against his webs.
A wicked smile spread over his face watching you all helpless. “You get to cum only if I get to feel you cum on me.”
Fwb!Peter who coddled you every chance he could get, “I know it’s too much for you, I know you’re gonna take it”
Pushing off his suit, he quickly climbs on top of you. Pulling your knees over his waist he starts to slowly push himself inside of you, the tight warmth almost made him cum right then and there.
“Fuck” he whimpers out sounding breathless, “I will ruin you forever. No one will ever be able to make you feel as good as I do.”
He starts moving at a sweet pace. Both of you wrapped around each other like a completed puzzle piece. “Tell me there is no one else.”
“There is no one else” you moan out.
“Tell me you belong to me.” The wet sound of skin slapping on skin resounds throughout the room.
When you don’t respond, he stops moving. “Say it or I walk out.”
“I belong to you!” you scream, your back arching in desperation.
His hand snakes around your neck, every thrust going deeper. Your eyes roll to the back of your skull; you could feel yourself getting close. He leans and kisses you just as you finish. Bodies slick with sweat he drops down and rests his head on your chest.
You pass out in that position, with your legs still wrapped around his waist; with him still deep inside you.
Fwb!Peter who was thinking about how this wasn’t working between you two anymore. It just wasn’t enough; he just ended up craving you more and more every time
Fwb!Peter who was already thinking of picking out a ring. He meant it when he said he would do anything to keep you locked with him.
AN: Let me know what you guys think!! Part 1 is here!
© to @heyysteven on tumblr; pls do not repost
"Hungry" | P. Parker
Peter Parker, being the gentleman that he is - always offers to help you with your shoes. Whether that is tying or untying laces, slipping on some heels, or making sure your manicure doesn't get messed up by your sandals. He also does this because he loves your plush, round thighs. But this is one of the times that he gets a little carried away.
Request a fic-athon Check my dedicated post about it for more details! Happy requesting everyone!
You had just shut the fridge shut with a sigh. It was basically empty aside from the half empty bottle of mayonnaise, jar of pickles, and a carton of orange juice. But of course, those three ingredients wouldn't make the most appetizing dinner.
Shuffling towards the couch, you grabbed your purse and grabbed your house keys from its designate spot on the key hook. The jangling of keys alerted Peter that you were leaving. You watched as he rounded the corner from your shared bedroom and halted right in front of where you stood.
"Pete, do you need anything from the store?" you asked, hanging the lanyard that held your keys around your neck.
"Err, Eggos and frozen chicken tenders." Your boyfriend replied and you offered him a small laugh. "What?" he chuckled, "They're easy to make and eat in like five minutes," he defended.
"I'll make sure that I grab some," you nodded, turning to the shoe rack and reaching for a pair of converses but with a single thwip, Peter beat you to it.
With your sneakers in his hands, he kneeled before you and patted his thigh. You instinctively raised your leg and propped your foot gently on his thigh.
Peter tugged on the tongue of your shoes and loosened the laces a tad. Gently, he took hold of the back of your calf and raised your leg slightly to help you slide your foot into the sole. This always made butterflies flutter in your stomach. Especially on this summer day when you decided to wear a short dress to beat the heat.
Peter watched your heel sink into place before quickly tying your laces. Then he moved onto the other leg, doing the same patting motion and lacing up your sneaker. But instead of letting your leg drop to the ground, he just held it steady on his thigh.
"Peter, you're going to get your pants dirty." you warned, thinking of the shoe marks that you were going to have to wash off of it later.
"I just like seeing you like this," your boyfriend beathed as his hands glided up and down your leg.
From this angle, Peter got a great view of the lace underwear you shimmied on after your shower this morning. And the best part? it was red, his favorite color.
"I gotta head out before the store gets busy," You remind him, trying to muster up reasons to free yourself from this trap.
Your boyfriend's hand hiked up your skirt and goosebumps bloomed atop of your skin. He grabbed your ass, giving it a greedy squeeze before hooking a finger around the waist band of your underwear. Filled with anticipation, you watched as Peter wordlessly slid your panties down your leg.
"The groceries can wait baby," Peter insisted in almost a whisper as he threw them god knows where.
Pressing a hand to the wall, you tried to maintain balance as Peter kept a firm grip on your hip. You were already aware that a bruise would form later because of it.
Carefully, he placed your propped leg over his shoulder, moving dangerously close to your slick covered cunt. Your breathing hitched at the closeness, feeling your boyfriend’s hot breath on your lips.
"You're soaked baby," Peter chuckled before dragging his middle finger down the crevice of your folds.
You watched as he pulled his hand back and string of your arousal clung to his finger. Hungrily, he licked his finger before moving back to your pussy lips.
A moan breached past your lips as Peter slipped two digits past your folds and into your core. His grasp became an anchor around your waist after you jolted at the pleasurable feeling.
He pumped them slow but with precision, making sure to curl his fingers against your walls. You pursed your lips as you watched Peter work your cunt.
Countless "Peter", "Yes, like that", and "You feel so good inside me"s made your boyfriend smirk with pride. He loved watching you give into his touch and never getting enough of the pretty words that left your lips.
Peter scooted forward just enough that he was directly under your dripping cunt. His eyes never tearing away from yours as he dropped his jaw and inched closer to your throbbing core.
As soon as his tongue came in contact with your clit, your hand went straight for his already messy hair. You yanked at the roots of his brown hair as your hips moved in sync with his tongue.
Peter groaned as he watched you get lost on his tongue. The vibration shooting through you like a firework. Your moans were on a continuous loop as he sucked your sensitive bud.
Just as though it couldn't get any better, Peter inserted his fingers once more. You whimpered something incoherent at the sensation, not even sure if it was even words that just escaped your throat.
"You close baby?" Peter asked, pulling away from your clit momentarily.
With no words forming in your mind, your hand pushed his head back in between your legs. Your boyfriend didn't need to be instructed anymore and kept working your pussy.
Peter pumped his finger into your walls relentlessly and started flicking your bud with his tongue. The orgasm that came barreling through your core made your legs quake. But Peter made sure to keep you in place.
And even as you came, his tongue didn't cease to work on you. He began lapping up the wetness of your high, making you shiver at the overwhelming feeling.
You watched as Peter wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He stood up and pressed a soft kiss to your lips. You were breathless after he pulled away with a smile.
"Don't forget my waffles baby," he said and clicked his tongue, with finger guns pointed at you.
You were left speechless in the entry way of your apartment, wondering about how the hell you were going to focus on making dinner after getting ate out by your boyfriend.
keep you safe | peter parker x fem!reader
Pairing: Peter Parker x Fem!Reader Summary: Peter Parker isn't very big on going to parties now that he's in college. But if you're going to a party, so is he. He's not being clingy. He just wants to know you're safe. And on this one night, he's especially glad he's there. Warnings: A guy being creepy, invading readers space and coming onto her without permission, reader is referred to as Peter's girlfriend but I don't think I use any specific pronouns other than that term. This does not contain spoilers for Brand New Day! Word Count: 2k A/N: Thanks for all the love on my last Peter fic. I'm having so much fun writing again 💗 Please send in any Peter requests if you have them!
“What time does the party start again?” Peter says through the phone, holding it between his ear and his shoulder as he tries to find a clean pair of jeans on the floor of his very messy room.
On the other end of the line, you can’t help the smile that arises on your face. “I told you that you don’t have to come with me, Peter. I know parties aren’t really your scene. You can stay home with Ned. I mean it.”
“I know,” Peter replies, attempting to tug his pyjama shorts off with one hand so he can try and put the jeans on… apparently also with one hand. He really hasn’t thought this through. “But you know what Flash Thompson’s parties end up like. I wanna come with you, make sure you’re safe.”
The words make you feel warm immediately. You’ve only been dating Peter Parker for two months but it was clear from the very start that he wasn’t the type of college kid who liked to go to parties every weekend.
His idea of a perfect weekend involved staying in his apartment with Ned, working on upgrades to his suit, building Lego or watching Star Wars. Sometimes all of it at once.
But if you’re going to a party, so is Peter.
“I know you don’t need anyone to keep you safe,” Peter continues when you don’t reply, voice strained as he tries to put one of his legs into his jeans. “But I’d feel better being there with you.”
You smile again, even if Peter can’t see it. “Fine, you can come with me. But I already told my roommate I’ll walk there with her. Can you meet me there at 8?”
“I’ll be there at 7:55.”
After you and Peter hang up the phone, he continues putting his jeans on and continuing to get dressed. It’s a little before 7 now, so he has plenty of time to get to the party but he wants to make sure he’s presentable – mostly for you rather than for himself. He doesn’t want to be the boyfriend who smells bad, is late, has no fashion sense… or anything that could embarrass you in the slightest, really.
He grabs a hoodie off of the foot of his bed a few minutes later and walks out into the living room where Ned is sitting, working on a Lego Star Wars AT-AT.
“I’m heading out, going to a party. You wanna come?” Peter offers, slipping his hoodie over his head. Thankfully, it smells clean.
Ned doesn’t even look up from his Lego. “Cause your girlfriend’s gonna be there?”
“I just feel like a beer,” Peter lies. He’s still not used to the fact that he has a girlfriend. That he’s casually announcing he’s going to a party on a Saturday night. Ned finds it more amusing than anything, though he’s also extremely happy that his best friend is so happy.
“We have some in the fridge.”
Peter picks up his shoes from the shoe rack and starts tugging them on. If he’s going to make it to the frat house by 7:55, he needs to start walking. “I’m 21, Ned. I’m in college. I wanna go drink beers and socialise. And yes, my girl will be there.”
Ned looks up at him, a twinkle in his eyes. “Oh, you are so whipped, Peter,” he grins. “Don’t wake me up if I’m asleep when you get home. If you’re not alone, please try and be quiet. I have to study tomorrow.”
“Shut up,” Peter murmurs, tugging on his second shoe. He picks up his keys from the bowl on the side table by the door and says goodnight to Ned, not promising anything about letting him stay asleep or keeping quiet, and locks the door behind him as he leaves.
He shoves his hands in the pockets of his hoodie as he walks across campus to the frat house where Flash Thompson lives and hosts all his parties. It’s a chilly October night but not as bad as it’ll be in a few months time in the dead of winter. He hopes that you’re not too cold heading to the party with your roommate and wonders if he should’ve brought along an additional layer to give to you if you are.
By the time he gets to the party, it’s already in full swing. He’s there by 7:54 and there are already people spilling out onto the front lawn, hands wrapped around red cups and several of those cups already littering the ground. Peter dodges a very intoxicated looking couple who are somehow walking and making out at the same time and heads through the front door.
His eyes start scanning the room to look for you and he immediately wishes that he’d discussed a certain spot to meet you when he got here. He stops by the kitchen, leaning up against the counter and pulling out his phone to text you and ask you where to meet you before grabbing a beer. He’ll get a drink once he knows where you are.
Peter doesn’t mind parties, not really. Do they get a little too crowded at times? Yes. Does he feel like he doesn’t belong there? Also yes. But he feels like he belongs more than he did when he was in high school and that’s enough for him. He prefers being at parties with you, though. He prefers being anywhere with you.
His phone buzzes in his hand and he immediately opens the message from you.
Just got here! Meet you in the living room?? ❤️
Peter sends a quick reply and heads off towards the living room. He’s been to parties here a few times so he roughly knows his way around. It’s a big frat house, though, and with so many people in here, it’s easy to get lost. He can see the entrance to the living room in the distance as he enters the hall. And then he sees you.
You’re a little further down the hall from him, stood by one of the walls, and you’re not alone. Your roommate is nowhere to be seen and instead, there’s a man standing in front of you, his hand on the wall beside your head, and he’s close. Too close.
Peter immediately wishes he was in his suit right now so he could use his web shooters to pin that assholes hand to the wall, and maybe the rest of his body as well, for daring to be so close to his girl.
He starts pushing through the crowd without a second thought, not even bothering to apologise when he accidentally steps on someones foot. He doesn’t take his eyes off of you the whole time, not wanting to risk you disappearing in front of him. He watches as you try and smile and laugh at things the man is saying but he notices the way you’re spinning the rings you wear around on your fingers – a nervous habit of yours.
Adrenaline is coursing through him as he gets closer to you. Once he reaches your side, he surprises himself with how confident he feels without his suit and mask. He’s used to confronting the bad guys as Spider-Man, but he’s still not so great at it when he’s just Peter.
“You need to leave,” Peter’s voice is stronger than he expects it to be. He presses a hand to the chest of the man overing over you and pushes him back so harshly that he stumbles. He positions himself between you and the man.
The man laughs and stands up straight again. “Don’t interrupt us, kid. We were just talking. You even know this chick or what?” He steps closer. “I was doing nothing wrong.”
“Yeah, I know her, and I know she doesn’t want to talk to you anymore, so leave before I make you leave.”
Again, the man laughs. “Am I meant to be scared of you, kid?”
Standing behind Peter, you reach out a hand and touch his arm gently, still standing behind him but peeking around him to look at the man who’d all of a sudden come onto you while you’d been trying to get to the living room.
“Yeah, you should be,” you reply, voice full of venom despite the fact that you’re also a little shaky with nerves. “Now listen to what he said and listen to what I say when I tell you to leave me the hell alone.”
Thankfully, the man scoffs, throws his hands up in the air and walks away, leaving you and Peter alone.
Peter immediately turns around, hands going to your face, your shoulders, your arms, to check you over physically and make sure you’re okay. He doesn’t know what he’d do if something serious happened to you before he could stop it. “Are you okay?” His voice is soft, words meant only for you. “Did he touch you?”
“No,” you shake your head, adrenaline still thrumming through your veins from the situation. You knew you could handle it on your own if you had to, but you’d be lying if you said you weren’t glad when Peter intervened. “He didn’t.”
“Who even was he?” Peter asks, eyebrows furrowed.
You cross your arms over your chest, trying to calm yourself down a little, and shrug. “I dunno. I think he’s in one of my classes? He said he’d seen me before and finally got the courage to come talk to me. He wasn’t getting the hint when I said I wasn’t interested.”
Peter’s frown deepens. “I should’ve taught him a lesson.”
The sound of your soft laughter shakes some of his anger away. “Like what? You gonna start a fist fight in the middle of a packed frat house? It’s fine, Peter. I’m fine, thanks to you.” You step closer to him and shove your hands into the pockets of his hoodie to anchor you closer to him. “I’ve dealt with guys worse than him.”
“You think that’s gonna make me feel better?”
You wince. “Okay, you’re right. That doesn’t sound great. But really, I’m okay.”
Peter sighs and moves to wrap his arms around you, tugging you into a hug. You remove your hands from his hoodie to hug him back, fisting them in the material of the back of his hoodie instead and burying your head in his neck. He rests his head on top of yours and the instant feeling of calm is almost overwhelming.
“I don’t like the idea of guys thinking they can just come onto you like that,” Peter murmurs. The party is loud but his voice is loud enough for you to hear, his mouth close to your ear. “That scared the hell out of me and it wasn’t even happening to me.”
You push your face further into Peter’s neck. “It scared me a bit too,” you admit. It’s true that you’ve dealt with guys worse than that before, but the way in which this man had invaded your space had heightened your anxiety. Your heart had started racing and your mind had been running over every fight or flight scenario until Peter arrived.
Peter’s grip gets tighter once he hears your words. “You sure you’re okay?”
“Mm-hmm,” you hum. “I’m feeling better every second.”
One of Peter’s hands starts slowly rubbing up and down on your back, soothing you even more. A small smile comes to your lips at the feeling. Somehow, in the middle of a crowded frat house, bursting to the seams with intoxicated and sober people, Peter is able to make it feel like you are the only two people in the world.
“Don’t let me go yet,” you murmur, words so quiet you don’t even know if Peter will hear them. He does, though. Peter hears everything you say.
“I won’t,” Peter replies. “I’m not letting you go until you’re ready.” And even then, he might hold on just a little bit longer for himself. To remind him that you’re here and you’re safe. That even though you can keep yourself safe, it’s okay for him to keep you safe too.
have you ever tried this one?
bnd!peter parker x f!reader | genre: smut | wc: 1.4k
summary: ab riding with spider-man. entirely inspired by this tiktok
warnings: explicit sexual content (18+), fwb dynamic with spider-man (reader doesn’t know his identity), enhanced!peter, masked sex, ab riding, overstimulation, peter comes untouched, nsfw themes + language.
a/n: the hyperfixation is hyperfixating. i hope you guys enjoy!! <3
You weren’t even sure how it came up, where the thought had come from. Spider-Man had come to your window, climbing through like he did most nights now. More than usual lately, his enhanced senses having something to do with that, but you didn’t know that. Didn’t need to. All you knew was that when red and blue appeared outside your window, followed by that one familiar tap against the glass, he was there for one thing and one thing only. Somewhere between your mouths chasing each other, clothes being stripped away in impatient handfuls, bare skin meeting the mattress, and you climbing straight over his lap, curiosity struck.
You’d done plenty with him at this point, hard not to when he looked like that underneath the suit. Muscles cut and hard, every dip and line carved into him, but his skin stayed smooth beneath your touch, warm wherever your hands moved over him.
Your palms dragged slowly down his abs, and a breath escaped his lips from where his mask was lifted just high enough to expose them. His hips bucked beneath you too, always did when you were taking longer than he wanted. Not that he’d ever say that, but he didn’t have to. His body spoke for him anyway, lifting into you again when your fingers reached the lowest ridge of his stomach.
His hands found your thighs, moving slowly up the outside of them until they reached your hips, his fingers spreading there before his grip tightened around you.
Your fingertips traveled higher, smoothing over the hard planes of his chest, though they didn’t stay there for long before finding their way right back down to his abdomen. You traced the lines of his core again, following each one while the thought that had been sitting at the back of your mind started working its way forward.
“I wanna try something,” you finally said.
“Yeah?” His mouth curved slightly where the mask stopped above it, his hips lifting to grind himself into you where you straddled him. “What’s that?”
Your palms smoothed over his abs again, feeling each muscle flex at the contact while your body closed around nothing, more slick gathering between your thighs from the thought alone.
“I wanna ride you.”
Peter shifted almost immediately, his hands moving at your hips like he was already getting ready to help you line yourself up over him. “Yeah,” he said, a little too quickly, breath already turning rougher. “Yes, I would also very much like that.”
You shook your head and pressed your palms flatter to his torso, dragging them over the hard muscle once more. “No. Not there.”
He stilled.
“Here,” you said, rubbing slowly over his abs so there was no chance he could misunderstand. Your eyes lifted to the white lenses of his mask, searching them even though you couldn’t see what was happening behind them. “Can I?”
Peter didn’t answer right away. Mostly because he was confused, not by what you meant now, but by the fact that he’d never thought about it, not once, and now that he was, his cock jumped between you hard enough for you to feel it. Then did it again while the image settled properly in his head, you moving over his stomach, using him like that, and somehow the silence only stretched longer.
You read the silence completely wrong.
“I was just asking,” you said quickly, already starting to move away. “We don’t have to, I just thought maybe you’d—”
“No, no, no.” Peter’s hold changed at once, keeping you from moving too far. “It’s fine. I just, uh…”
You waited, watching the lenses narrow slightly as though he was trying to figure out how to say it without making himself sound stupid.
“Have you ever tried it before?”
“No,” he admitted, then stumbled straight into the rest before he could lose his nerve. “But I want to. I mean, if you still want to.”
A soft hum left you as you nodded, the sound low and pleased enough to make him tense under your touch. His hold softened then giving you room to move, letting you climb a little higher over him as your thighs spread along either side of his torso.
Peter could already feel the heat coming off you before you even lowered yourself, that little space between your body and his turning warmer by the second. You sank down slowly, your slick meeting the hard planes of his core, and the breath that left him came out just as uneven as yours. You moved once, just a small roll of your hips, watching the muscles jump from the wet drag of you, then did it again when his stomach tightened and met you harder.
Just like that, your pace picked up without you meaning for it to, nails curling into his chest as you rocked faster, chasing every ridge and dip between your thighs. You felt all of him there, each carved muscle rubbing across your clit, every shallow indent catching you differently when you shifted your weight, and the more it worked, the less careful you got. Your hips kept moving, wetter now, messier, dragging over him again and again while your mouth fell open around another soft sound and you chased the friction like you couldn’t get enough.
Peter was right there with you. Normally, he was better than this, more giving, more in control, but seeing you ride him like that stripped all of it away. He couldn’t stop staring at the way your body moved over his, at the wet sheen you left across his abs each time you rolled forward, coating every muscle until his skin glistened in the low light. Your name left his mouth raw and breathless, one palm finding your thigh while the other settled at your waist, every sharpened sense filling with the sound of your little whines, the heat between your legs, the slick drag of you using his body to get yourself off.
You were getting close, your rhythm starting to falter even as you tried to keep going, each roll turning shorter and less even when the pleasure gathered too fast. Peter felt you rise by an inch, your body trying to escape the pressure for one second, but his palms closed around your hips and kept you right where you were. He brought you down firmly, holding your weight over him while he moved you himself, grinding you across him faster, harder, making sure every hard line stayed exactly where you needed it as your breath frayed into helpless moans above him.
Cries and curses spilled from your lips together, each one climbing higher as Peter worked your hips over him, refusing to let the friction ease even when your thighs started trembling along his sides. Your palms planted flat on his chest when it finally snapped, your orgasm tearing through you so hard your whole body locked over him, hips jerking through the first sharp wave before you started shaking. You came with a strangled moan caught in your throat, slick spreading messier across his skin as he kept you moving through every last spasm.
Feeling you tense and shudder over him sent Peter over just as hard. His body lifted from the mattress, abs flexing under you while his jaw locked and his head pressed farther into the sheets, every vein along his neck standing out as a rough sound tore from his throat. It gave way to ragged breaths and strained groans while he came across himself, thick streaks landing low over his skin and stopping just short of your ass as you kept riding out the last of your orgasm above him.
Things started to slow, started to settle, your weight still resting over him while you tried to catch your breath. Your thighs trembled at his sides, skin damp, chest rising and falling as the last of it worked through you, but he was still fighting the hypersensitivity underneath it all. He felt every shift of your body, every faint drag of your slick over his abdomen, every small change in temperature where you stayed pressed to him, and none of it was helping him come down.
He’d never done anything like that, never even thought about it until you asked. But now that he had, now that he knew how good your pussy felt sliding over him, how wet you left him, how easily he could keep you right where he wanted and feel you come apart on top of him, there was only one thought left in his head, one question already slipping out beneath the lifted edge of his mask.
“Do you, uh… do you wanna try it again?”
© anon-188 - est. 2025 | please do not repost, copy, translate, or recreate my work in any form.
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I’m Sorry. I Can’t. Don’t Hate Me.
Pairing: Peter Parker x ex!reader
Synopsis: You see Peter at a party years after your messy breakup and some truths come out
Masterlist
“How long do we have to stay?”
“It’s a party, Peter. It’s not going to kill you to be away from your apartment for one night.” Ned sighed as he pressed the button for the 13th floor in the elevator.
“It might.” Peter said out of the corner of his mouth.
“You need to get out more, dude.” Ned told him. “You’re starting to become Boo Radley, when really, you should be Jay Gatsby.”
“You never read either of those books.” Peter pointed out.
“No.” Ned agreed. “But I Sparknote-ed the shit out of them enough to know that you are becoming a homebody. And everyone knows that is the first step to becoming a serial killer who wears suits made out of unsuspecting women.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” Peter answered sarcastically.
“Just try to have fun tonight, okay? I won’t make you stay that long. But I want to see you taking to some people.” Ned requested as they walked into the apartment where the party was being held.
“But you’re the only person here that I….” Peter trailed off as the hairs on the back of his neck stood straight up. He stared ahead and felt the rest of the world fade away as his eyes landed on you for the first time in four years. You were leaning on a counter in the kitchen with a red solo cup in your hand and a lightness to you he hadn’t seen since the early days of when you were together. The music that had been playing when he walked in became a dull thump that Peter felt in his chest. You hadn’t caught his eye yet, too busy laughing at a story a girl he sort of recognized was telling you.
Your hair was different. Your clothes too. But there was something still distinctly you about you that brought Peter back to a place he didn’t know he still knew how to get to.
“Peter, I am so sorry. I didn’t think she’d be here tonight.” Ned said, pulling Peter back into his body. He managed to tear his eyes away from you, only once he processed what Ned had said.
“You didn’t…uh, is she…do you guys still talk?” Peter asked Ned with an undertone of betrayal.
“No, dude. I haven’t spoken to her since high school.” Ned assured him. “But I know she’s friends with Harry’s girlfriend. I just didn’t think they were close enough that she’d be here.”
“Oh.” Peter said quietly as his attention returned to you. He wanted to turn around and leave before you saw him, but it was too late. Harry, the host of the party, appeared in the doorway of the kitchen to greet him and Ned.
“Hey. Glad you guys made it.” Harry said as he pulled Ned into some handshake-hug hybrid.
“Thanks for having us.” Ned replied. “This is my friend-“
“Peter?” Your voice pierced him like a sword. Harry stepped to the side when he heard your voice, giving you a perfect view of Peter. He stared at you like he was staring down the barrel of a gun, unsure of what his next move should be.
“Oh, you guys know each other?” Harry asked as you departed from your kitchen counter and walked into the living room.
“We all went to high school together.” Ned answered right before you enveloped him in a hug. He shot Peter an apologetic glance before returning the hug.
“Ned. It’s so good to see you.” You said as you squeezed him.
“You too.” He answered quietly but genuinely. “It’s been too long.”
“I had no idea you all knew each other. What a small world.” Harry laughed as you and Ned pulled out of your hug. Your eyes slowly went back to Peter, taking their time as if you hoped he wouldn’t be there anymore by the time you looked his way. He was frozen in time as he stared back at you, taking it all the ways time had changed you since he saw you last.
“Um, is there something else?” Harry chuckled awkwardly when the uncomfortable silence between you and Peter became prolonged uncomfortable silence. Peter stayed quiet and let you decide how much information you wanted to share.
“Peter and I used to date.” You said without taking your eyes off of Peter. Harry’s girlfriend, Sadie, had joined the conversation at some point, but you and Peter weren’t sure of when.
“Wait, you two dated?” Sadie asked as she leaned on Harry’s arm. “I can’t see that.”
“Neither could he. Probably why we didn’t work out.” You said out of the corner of your mouth. Peter absentmindedly touched his lips, realizing he may have developed his habit of doing that from you. You laughed at your own joke, but you were alone in that. Your face fell when you saw how uncomfortable everyone else looked, so you looked down into your cup and took a long sip.
“Wow. Thanks for fucking up the vibe, guys.” Harry said after a minute. “Drinks, anyone? Or perhaps a blow torch to melt the ice between you?”
“That would be great, thanks.” You smiled tightly.
“I’ll be right back with that.” Harry said before heading towards the kitchen. Sadie squeezed your shoulder before walking off with him.
Peter turned to look at Ned, but no longer saw him standing next to him. He looked around the room and could see Ned absolutely cutting it up at a game of Just Dance through the open door of one of the bedrooms. Peter was fearful to turn back around because he knew that meant it was now just the two of you. Before he could psych himself out, he whipped around to face you. You were sizing him up, noticing the way his hair had grown out and how he’d lost his remainder of his teenage features.
“Well, this is a surprise.” You said to break the silence. You took another sip of your drink without breaking eye contact with Peter.
“It’s really good to see you. I didn’t think we’d ever see each other again.” Peter heard the sound of his own voice before realizing he was speaking. He had played out the moment he saw you again in his head a million times, but this version was something he hadn’t written in his mental scripts.
“Yeah, that was heavily implied by the post-it you left on my computer.” You said with a tight lipped smile. This response surprisingly put Peter at ease. It helped him to know where you stood, since the way he ended things left him completely unaware of how you felt about the breakup. He left a post-it note for you to find when you woke up three years ago and had zero communication with you until this moment.
“I’m so sorry about that. I’m sorry about a lot of things that happened between us. I was such a dick to you.” Peter continued, feeling like once he started to pour out all these bottled up feelings, he was not going to be able to stop.
“You said it.” Was all you said before taking another sip of your drink. Peter touched his back pockets and then the pockets of his jackets, looking for something to fidget with. He settled on toying with the zipper of his jacket while he search for the right words to say.
“Do you think we could talk?” He asked in a quiet voice. “Somewhere more private?”
“I don’t really think you and I have anything left to say to each other.“ You answered. Your tone wasn’t harsh, just honest. Peter began to chew his lips and felt his chance to make things right slipping away.
“I think I have a lot of things left to say to you, actually.” Peter said with an awkward chuckle.
“Then maybe you should’ve sprung for a bigger post-it.” You shrugged.
“Please.” Peter said softly. “Just one conversation. Maybe we could go outside or something?”
“I’m sorry. I can’t. Don’t hate me.”
“What?” Peter frowned, feeling like he had heard that once before.
“That’s what your note said.” You reminded him. “On the same kind of yellow post-it we would use it remind each other to run the dishwasher. I’m sorry. I can’t. Don’t hate me.”
“That’s not….thats all I wrote?” Peter asked in embarrassed disbelief. He had left in such heightened state of emotions that night that he couldn’t remember the exact wording he had chosen.
“You don’t remember?” You asked him, seemingly more amused than upset.
“I’m sorry. I don’t.”
“Wow.” You said sarcastically. “And here I was thinking we both would know it by heart. Guess it’s just me.”
“That’s awful. Oh my God. You should’ve found out where I was and dropped an anvil on my head or something.” Peter replied, unexpectedly making you let out a dry laugh.
“Hey, I still can.” You reminded him. He felt himself dare to smile the slightest bit.
“You’re being unreasonably civil with me considering the circumstances.”
“Well, if you had shown up before we played that last drinking game, this conversation would be going a lot differently. But lucky for you, I’m too drunk to remember just exactly how much I hate your guts.” You replied, making the smile fall right off his face. Hearing that you hated his guts was painful, even though he knew he deserved it.
Before Peter could respond, a guy a full foot taller than him bumped his shoulder and pulled you into a hug. Your demeanor changed and you tensed up, making eye contact with Peter over the man’s shoulder. He felt his heart sink and knew his face was not hiding how he felt.
“Hey, beautiful.” The man greeted you as he pulled away. Your blank expression became a fake smile the second he could see your face.
“Hi!” You said in a tone Peter recognized as your voice when fake niceties were being exchanged. You made eye contact with Peter again and stared at each other. As angry as you had been with him, you did not want him to be in this situation.
“Sorry, did I interrupt?” The man asked when he noticed you staring at Peter.
“Kelly, this is Peter. He’s a friend of a friend.” You explained. Peter made a face for several reasons. Kelly did not seem at all phased by hearing Peter’s name, so you had clearly not told him about your relationship. That, and you had lied about how you knew each other.
“What’s up, man?” Kelly said and held out his hand. Peter panicked, not knowing if he was supposed to shake his hand or do the weird handshake hug-hybrid he just saw Ned do. He ended up doing an awkward mix of both and saw you turning your face to the side to laugh.
“Not much.” Peter answered with a similar fake smile to yours. The three of you stood in the most awkward silence of Peter’s life until Kelly cleared his throat.
“Can I get you another drink?” He asked you.
“Yes, thank you.” You nodded and handed him your cup. Once he was gone, you and Peter exchanged another look.
“Kelly?” He asked you with raised eyebrows.
“Don’t start.”
“Of Blue Book fame?” He continued, making you give him a lethal stare.
“It’s a unisex name.”
“Are you sure about that?” He mumbled, but you heard it.
“Don’t start.“ You repeated, this time with a warning finger.
“I’m not. I’m not.” Peter said and held up his hands in defense. You shook your head and looked away, but he could tell you were trying not to laugh.
“I’m not seeing anyone, if you were wondering.” He said, making you look at him again.
“Oh, I wasn’t.” You assured him, but there was a playfulness to your tone. He reminded himself that you were drunk so that he didn’t read into things.
“Oh. Well, now you know anyway.”
“What a relief on behalf of women everywhere.” You replied. You turned away again, but this time, you couldn’t hide your laughter.
“What’s so funny?”
“Kelly Blue Book was a low blow.” You told him. “We are not rekindled enough for you to say that.”
“Does that mean we’re rekindled somewhat?” He asked, making you roll your eyes in a playful way.
“No. I’m just drunk and I have a soft spot for you.” You said like it wasn’t a big deal.
“You do?” Peter asked with softened eyes. You opened your mouth to speak, but were cut off by the sound of a girl laughing loudly in the kitchen. You both turned to look and saw Kelly leaning very close to a girl to whisper something to her. Whatever he was saying must’ve been the funniest thing she had ever heard because she was slapping his chest as she laughed. You folded your lips in as if this didn’t surprise you and didn’t meet Peter’s eyes.
“He seems-“
“I don’t want to hear it.” You cut him off and walked away.
Peter was smart enough to give you space, but curious enough to make sure he always knew where you were. He stayed by Ned for most of the night, but made sure you were never out of his peripheral vision.
He saw you laughing and doing shots with your friends in the kitchen. He noticed when you were dancing to a song from a movie he had forced you to watch once upon a time. He was aware when you went to the balcony by yourself to stare at the city skyline and catch your breath. His eyes stayed on you as you got yourself another drink and came back to the living room. Your eyes went to something in the center of the room, so Peter’s followed. There he saw Kelly dancing between two girls and looking like he didn’t have a care in the world. Peter looked back at you and saw that you weren’t exactly watching Kelly, but not unaware of what was happening either. Peter was glaring daggers at him on your behalf with his disdain building by the minute. One of the girls whispered something in Kelly’s ear and he nodded before going over to you.
“I think I’m gonna head out soon.” Peter heard Kelly tell you.
“Really? But you just got here.” You said with your fake smile.
“Yeah, but, uh, my friends want to meet up. He’s really upset and needs me.” Kelly told you without bothering to keep his eyes off the girl he had just been dancing with. Peter could see on your face that you didn’t believe him. You pulled him by the arm onto the balcony, rendering Peter unable to hear the rest of your conversation. He could, however, see the two of you fighting through the window. He quickly looked away when you came back in, but he could already tell you were crying. You went straight for the bathroom as Kelly went out the front door, one of the girls he’d been dancing with not far behind him.
“I’ll be right back.” Peter told Ned. He made his way over to where the bathroom was so that he could catch you on the way out. When you didn’t come out for a while, he took it upon himself to knock on the door.
“It’s Peter. Are you okay?” He asked through the door. He heard the sink turn off a few moments before you opened the door.
“I’m fine.” You said without trying very hard to convince him. He opened his mouth to say more, but decided you were probably in no mood for any form of comfort from him. You were staring at him through your tear smudged black mascara, almost daring him to try to cheer you up. Instead, he silently pulled a tissue out of his pocket and handed it to you. You looked down at it and he couldn’t sworn he saw the tightest hint of a smile from you. You took it, gave him an appreciative nod, and went on your way.
Peter kept his eyes on you for the next hour. The party was dying out, making it easier for him to keep track of you. When he saw you repeatedly opening and closing the clasp of your left earring, he knew he was running out of time.
“You heading out?” He made his way over to ask you.
“Oh. Uh, yes actually. How’d you know?”
“I saw you playing with your earrings. That usually means your social battery ran out ten minutes ago.”
“How could you possibly see that from the other room?” You cracked a smile as you asked him.
“You’re the only thing I see.” He said simply. Your teasing smile turned into a sad one and you looked away.
“So, um, I know you said you hate my guts, but I think it would be good for us to talk sometime. Do you still like that coffee shop near the movie theater?” Peter asked timidly.
“I haven’t been there since we were together.” You shook your head. Peter was about to ask why not, but he knew why not. You didn’t want to go there because you didn’t want to risk seeing him.
“Could I take you there? I just want to have one conversation. To clear the air and everything.”
“Peter, you broke up with me on a post-it note.” You reminded him. “I don’t care what you want.”
“You’re right. I’m sorry. What do you want?” He finally asked.
“To get past you and go home.” You answered and pointed towards the front door.
“I’ll walk you.”
“That’s okay. I don’t need a chaperone.”
“It’s late and we’re not close to the subway. It could be dangerous.” He told you, wanting to add “and you’re wasted”, but didn’t.
“I’ll take the risk.” You said as you moved past him to get to the door. Peter made the bold move to stand in front of you to block you, hoping you would understand when you were sober.
“Don’t be stubborn. I’m walking you. I’ll walk a few paces back so you can have your space.” He stated, making you roll your eyes.
“Fine. But I’m gonna fart a bunch so you have to walk through it.” You grumbled and let him walk with you out of the apartment.
“That’s fine. Whatever you need.” Peter nodded. You stopped walking and looked at him with a smirk.
“Jesus.” You laughed. “I was joking.”
“Oh. Sorry.” He smiled in embarrassment.
Peter kept his promise and walked a few paces behind you. He sent Ned a quick text about where he had gone, to which Ned replied with several suggestive emojis. Peter rolled his eyes and put his phone away so that he could keep a close eye on you. The cold New York air felt amazing after having been in that apartment with all those people. You were stumbling a little from being intoxicated and looked over your shoulder every so often to make sure he was there. When you were about halfway home, you turned around.
“This is weird.” You said as you shoved your hands in your pockets and walked up to him.
“What is?”
“Knowing you’re behind me. I think it’s putting me more on edge than if I was walking alone. I keep forgetting it’s you and getting freaked out by the footsteps.”
“I can walk lighter.” He offered. You shrugged and kept going, with Peter taking lighter footsteps this time.
“It’s not working.” You sighed. “I still know you’re there.”
“I could go across the street?” He suggested, but you shook your head.
“Come on. Walk next to me. But don’t talk to me.” You warned him. He nodded and quickly fell into step beside you. He snuck what he hoped were discreet glances at you every now and then. It was so insane to him to be walking beside you after believing he’d never get the chance to talk to you again. Every time he looked at you, he got a pang in his heart that radiated in his whole body. And everytime he remembered the interactions between you and Kelly that he witnessed, he felt white hot anger coarse through his body.
“Just ask.” You said, breaking the silence.
“What? I didn’t say anything.”
“Your face did. Just ask me what you’ve been dying to ask me.” You permitted him. Peter hesitated, then went for it.
“So, you and Kelly?”
“Oh my God.” You laughed. “Of course.”
“How long have you been together?”
“We’re not. It’s not serious.“
“Oh. So you guys just social distance and talk about unsexy things together?” He asked, making you laugh again.
“That about sums it up.” You nodded in agreement.
“Is he good to you?” Peter asked, making you give him a look.
“You’re nice to pretend you didn’t see us fighting.”You sighed. “But to answer your question, when his eyes aren’t wandering, yeah, he can be pretty nice.”
“His eyes wander from you? Not possible.”
“Very possible.” You told him. “And constant.“
“Why do you stay with him then? Why even give him the time of day?”
“It’s complicated. College can be really lonely.” You shrugged. “But he tells me that I’m pretty and kisses my head before he leaves. So it’s okay that he doesn’t see me as an equal.”
“Is it okay?” Peter asked you, making you give him another look.
“No.” You admitted. “But, you know, college can be really lonely.”
“Yeah. I get that.” Peter nodded along. “I don’t get you with him, though. I saw how he was tonight. Showing up late, leaving early, talking to other girls. That guy is an idiot. He’s not good enough for you.”
“No, he’s not.” You agreed. “But we accept the love we think we deserve or whatever the stupid tumblr quote is.”
“You don’t deserve that.” Peter stated. “Fuck Kelly, and his little blue book.”
You stopped walking and laughed at his joke before nodding to the building you were standing next to.
“Thanks for walking me. This is me.”
“Wait, you still live here?” Peter asked when he recognized the building.
“I do. But a different apartment. Remember that pipe in my bathroom?”
“That dripped hot water on your head when you least expected it? Sure do.”
“Well, it burst, so I had to move out.”
“You didn’t happen to leave the window open in the winter, did you?” He asked you, always knowing the answer.
“I still think that’s a myth.” You prefaced. “But yes, the pipe happened to explode after I happened to forget to close the window last January.”
“Totally not your fault.” He teased. “Do you like the new place?”
“Eh. It’s okay.”
“Did you hang all your sun-catchers back up?” He asked, causing you to look at him in surprise.
“I did.” You told him with a slight smile. “But one of them broke in the move.”
The fleeting image of Peter’s back being painted with rainbow light from your cardinal shaped sun catcher flashed in your mind. You blinked it away and turned your face, worried that if you looked at him too long, you’d start to cry.
“Not the frog one, right?” He asked, making you chuckle. You had bought that one together on your first trip out of the city.
“No, not the frog one. That one’s okay.” You said with a sad smile. You and Peter stared at each other for a while and he had the same longing smile that you did. You had to look away again, fearing that if you didn’t, you’d invite him to come inside.
“I should go.” Peter said to break the silence, and you just nodded in agreement. He began to step forwards, but felt like his legs were full of cement.
“I can’t move.” He told you, making you frown.
“Why not?”
“Because this might be the last time I ever see you.”
“Well, I don’t know. I didn’t expect to see you tonight. Maybe we’ll run into each other at a Best Buy or something in a few years.” You shrugged, making his heart sink.
“That makes me sad.” He admitted without meeting your eyes.
“Well, what did you expect would happen to us when you broke up with me?”
“I guess I always thought I’d get my life together and you’d…” He trailed off when he realized how stupid he sounded.
“And what? I’d be waiting for you?” You laughed dryly. “For my gallant hero to outrun his demons and come back to me? And reward me for patiently waiting and keeping my life at a standstill until he returned?”
“No. It’s not like that.” He shook his head. “I knew we were in wildly different places in our lives, and that you were going to be far better off without me dragging you down. I thought it would be some kind of a messed up favor to you to get rid of myself so that your life could go on. But I guess I thought we’d meet again one day when we were different people and…..”
“And?” You asked he he trailed off again.
“And remember why we fell in love.” He admitted, just in case this really was the last time you ever saw each other.
“It doesn’t really work like that, Peter. Life goes on. You made the decision to leave. We are different people now, but that doesn’t erase what happened.”
“I know. I know I can never undo what I did. I just…I just hope I see you sooner than a few years in a Best Buy.”
You were quiet for a minute and folded your arms as you looked at him. You stared for such a long time that Peter felt his face heat up.
“I go to the one around the block.” You said finally.
“What?”
“The coffee shop. I stopped going to the one by the movie theater and started going to the one around the block.”
“The one with the scary guy that yelled at you for taking too long to order?” He asked. “I thought you were never gonna go back there.”
“He’s pretty nice, actually. He was high strung that year because his husband had just passed. But he gave me a free scone when I came in here a few days after we broke up. He said he could tell I needed it.”
“Wow.” Peter smiled sadly. “I drove you to the point of visibly needing a scone.”
“Eh, I kinda live at that point. Don’t give yourself too much credit.”
“I won’t.” He chuckled. You smiled back at him, the first full smile you’d given him all night. Suddenly, your expression changed and the color drained from your lips. Peter was quick to hold your hair off your face as the last few drinks you’d had that night came back up. Peter blew on the back of your neck while he waited for you to be done.
“That was hot.” You groaned as you stood back up.
“It was.” Peter chuckled and timidly rubbed your back.
“You can go. The Cool Ranch Doritos I ate about to make a reappearance and I don’t want you to see that.”
“Give me your key.” Peter said and held it his hand. You dug in your pocket and placed your key in the palm of his hand. He unlocked the front door of your apartment and ushered you inside. The doritos made their reappearance in the trash can of the lobby while Peter explained your situation to the doorman.
He let the two of you up and Peter somehow found himself in your apartment. It looked pretty similar to the last one, with several cabinets open due to your habit of taking things out and walking away. Your roommate’s door was closed, so Peter quietly led you to the bathroom. He couldn’t help but look around and try to gather bits and pieces of information about your new life. The candles that you burned the most, the things you hung on your fridge, and the various trinkets you kept on your coffee table. He absorbed it all as he got you a glass of water, wondering if the brightly colored cups in your cabinets were your idea or your roommates.
“This is not how I imagined tonight would end.” He laughed numbly as he handed you the cup of water. You gave him a gracious smile and then chugged it, hoping you’d be able to keep it down. He helped you get up off the bathroom floor and leaned against the wall while you brushed your teeth.
“How did you imagine it?” You wondered. “Like, what would’ve been your ideal outcome when you realized I was at the party tonight?”
“That’s a good question.” Peter said as he thought. “I think I would just want us to be okay with each other. We had so much love between us at one time. I hate that the way I left tarnished that.”
You rinsed your mouth out and stared at him in the reflection of the mirror for a while. It seemed like you were processing something, or maybe you were just sobering up and remembering how much you hated him.
“Then why did you do it?” You asked finally. “Why a post-it note? Why didn’t you just wake me up? Or end things before I went to sleep?“
“I couldn’t face you. I couldn’t look you in the eyes and tell you it was over.”
“Why not?” You demanded. Peter looked visibly surprised at the abrupt display of anger, making you look down at the sink in embarrassment.
“I want to say I didn’t want to see you look devastated, but I think I really didn’t want to see you look relieved.” Peter admitted without meeting your eyes. You actually appreciated his candor and smiled sadly, but still had a hardened look in your eyes that told Peter he was not yet forgiven.
“Can I ask you something?” He said in a wavering voice.
“Depends on what it is.”
“Did you ever think about me? Like, when you were waiting for an elevator or something? Did I ever cross your mind?”
Peter looked so small and fragile that you almost stepped forward and hugged him. You laughed humorlessly and nodded your head.
“Of course. Of course you did. I saw you in every pair of brown eyes I looked into since we broke up.” You admitted. That was the enough to break the dam and Peter found himself unable to contain his feelings any longer.
“I’m so sorry. I’m sorry about everything. All the missed dates and calls I didn’t return. All the nights I left you waiting until you fell asleep next to the plate you left out for me. And for leaving the way I did. You deserved so much better than what I gave you.”
“Wow.” You cracked a smile. “Look who’s found his words.”
“I know they’re late. But better late than never, right?” He said with a self deprecating smile.
“Never would’ve been okay with me.”
“Really? You would’ve been okay if we never saw each other again? Even just to tell me off about how much of an asshole I was?”
“But that’s the thing, Peter. You weren’t an asshole. You were a good guy who was dealing with something I couldn’t help you with. You went about it in the shittiest way possible, but you were right to end our relationship. You clearly couldn’t be in one at the time. And I don’t think you realized that until you were writing on that post-it.”
Peter stared at you in stunned silence for a moment. It was just like you to humanize him, even after he’d hurt you in ways that changed you to your core. He looked away in shame, knowing he was nowhere near as evolved as you were.
“You could always read me like no one else could.” He said quietly.
“I thought I could. But I still don’t know what it was that you were going through. I tried to figure it out, but I never did discover the cause of the wedge between us.” You said, causing him to look back at you. You had a look on your face that brought his mind back to a picture of you he’d seen at your mom’s house. In the picture, you were just a kid, staring at the ocean with a life jacket twice the size of you. The same curious but fearful look on your face was present now.
“There was only one reason I left.” Peter said before he could stop himself. You looked at him like you were trying to decide if he was messing with you or not. Peter felt anxiety in his chest, recognizing this as the last moment you would ever see him in this way. Instead of telling you and going through the motions of you not believing him, he shot a web at a hairbrush on your floor and handed it to you. Your eyes went back and forth between the hairbrush and Peter about a hundred times. Finally, you slowly peeled the web off the back of the brush and held it up to give it a good look.
“You’re joking.” You said finally, no humor in your voice.
“I’m not.” Peter shook his head.
“Do it again.” You demanded and dropped the web into the trash. So Peter did it again, this time at your hand towel. He caught it with ease before handing it to you, which turned out to be a big mistake.
“You’re Spider-Man? You’re the fucking Spider-Man?” You asked as you smacked his shoulder with the towel. He let you hit him a few times before snatching the towel away from you.
“I am.”
“And you have been the whole time? Even when we were together?” You asked him as you visibly processed what you had just seen.
“Since before we got together.” He told you, making you start your processing all over. Your entire relationship played in your head and suddenly, all the missed dates on the night’s major crimes happened in the city made sense. You rubbed your face with your hands and sat in silence for a long time before looking at him.
“Is this why you left me? So I wouldn’t find out your secret?” You asked him in a quiet voice. Peter looked down in shame and nodded his head.
“The night I left, you and I got interviewed by the local news about our thoughts on the upcoming hurricane.”
“Oh my God. I forgot all about that.” You realized. “We were running to the bodega for ice cream. I had said I hoped we didn’t run into anyone we knew since I didn’t have my makeup on, and then we ended up on the news.”
“We did.” He smiled softly. “And in our interview, I said I was happy to have a girlfriend that buys too many blankets in case the power goes out.”
“I’m not following.”
“In that moment, I realized that if someone ever figured out my identity and wanted to hurt me, they could go after you. I called you my girlfriend on camera without even thinking about it. And all it would take is one person looking me up and seeing that video for you to be in danger. I couldn’t live myself knowing that dating you meant putting a target on your back.”
“So you threw us away because of a possibility?” You asked, sounding unsatisfied with his reasoning.
“It’s not just a possibility. Do you remember my Aunt May?” He asked you. You were about to ask what she had to do with your current conversation until you put two and two together. You did remember his Aunt May. More so, you remembered the way Peter never gave any definitive details on how she died.
“She knew about my secret and got too involved, and it got her killed. So it wasn’t just a possibility to me. It felt like it was only a matter of time before you got hurt or even worse because of me.”
“I didn’t know.” You said quietly.
“I didn’t want you to ever know. That’s why I wrote you the note on the post-it and left in the middle of the night. I thought if you hated me, you’d never come looking for me. And that would keep you safe.”
The change in perspective made the room spin slightly. You gripped the cold counter to ground yourself as your knees threatened to give out. Peter could tell you were struggling and stepped closer to you. He gently rested his hands on your waist to steady you. You looked up at him through your eyelashes and gave him a small appreciative smile.
“But what about now? Why tell me now?”
“Because you deserve to know the truth.” He said. “And it’s been so many years since we dated that we’re not gonna get back together. So there’s not really any harm in you knowing now.”
“But, just out of curiosity, does my knowing mean that now we can never be together?” You asked with a mischievous glint in your eyes. Peter’s eyebrows knit together, feeling apprehensive to read into your question.
“Why do you ask?” He asked as struggle to keep his gaze from falling to your lips. You reached up and gently ran your fingernails on his cheek, causing him to instantly melt into your touch. Peter hesitantly reached up and wrapped a hand gently around your wrist.
“Because I’m starting to forget all the reasons I cried at your hands.” You admitted to him through a sad laugh. Peter mirrored your melancholy smile and tilted your face towards his by taking your chin between his fingers. You stared into his eyes and felt his familiar magnetic force pulling you into him.
“You’re not gonna kiss me.” You shrugged with a knowing look in your eyes.
“I’m not?” He played coy.
“You’re not.” You said most assuredly. “Peter Parker is too much of a gentleman to kiss a girl when she’s drunk.”
“It’s true.” He chucked. “And it definitely has nothing to do with the entire bag of Cool Ranch Doritos I saw you house down and then puke up.“
You leaned into him while you laughed and Peter wrapped two arms around you. He held you tightly and placed a kiss on the top of your head, noting that you used to same shampoo you did when you were together.
“That’s a good call. I don’t want to kiss you when I can feel those Doritos seeping out of my pores.” You told him as you pressed your cheek into his shoulder and gently swayed with him.
“Yeah.” He chuckled softly. “But I’d like to. You have no idea how much I’d like to.”
“I have some idea.” You told him as you pulled away and unabashedly stared at his lips. Peter leaned in but instead of kissing you, he grabbed the bottle of makeup remover from behind you and held it up.
“How about I do you even better and take your makeup off for you?” He asked. You threw your arms up in celebration and profusely nodded your head. Peter found your cotton balls and gently removed your makeup for you while you sat with your eyes shut and a content smile. When he finished, he went the extra mile and did your skincare for you. He’d seen you do it enough times back when you were dating that he was able to follow it the way you did. When he finished, he scooped you up off the counter and carried you out of the bathroom.
“Come on. I’m putting you to bed so it can be the morning faster.” He told you as he brought you to the room with your name marked on the door. Your laughter rang through your room as he gently placed you in your bed. You mumbled something incoherent once your head hit the pillow, already half asleep. Peter went to leave, but you caught his wrist and tugged him back.
“Hey, Spider-Man.” You said in a playfully demanding voice.
“Yes?” Peter chuckled. You seemed wide awake all the sudden and looked into his eyes.
“Are you gonna be there when I wake up this time?” You asked him, sounding completely serious.
“I’ll be there.” He promised you with no intention to disappoint you again. You smiled at him and rested your head back on your pillow, seeming to accept his answer.
“There’s a blanket on the couch you can use. There’s a lot, actually. I still buy too many. Goodnight Peter.” You said, eyes already shutting.
“Goodnight, honey.” Peter kissed his fingers and touched them to your forehead, not wanting to overstep but unable to just walk away.
When you woke up, Peter was gone. Your head was throbbing as you stared at the empty couch with a pit in your stomach. Before your heart could fully sink, you noticed the yellow post-it Peter had left on a newly folded blanket. Your hands shook as you picked it up, but it proved to be entirely different from the last time he left you a post-it.
“Went to get coffee around the block :)” He had penned in the same handwriting he once used to leave you. You cracked a smile at his risky joke just as Peter was coming back into your apartment with keys he had taken from the bowl by the door. He had two coffees in hand and a sleepy smile on his face.
“Good morning.” He greeted you as you walked over to him. “I took a guess at your order. I hope you still like-“
You cut him off by throwing your arms around him and kissing him, bringing you a feeling neither of you thought you would ever feel again.
“Oh, sorry. I thought you were Kelly.” You smiled teasingly when you pulled out of the kiss. Peter rolled his eyes to the ceiling before pulling you into another kiss.
“You were right about the coffee shop guy. He was very nice and gave me a scone when I said the coffee was for you.” Peter said as you walked to the kitchen together. You gasped in excitement and pulled the scone out of the little bag it was in before taking a big bite.
“Hey, you’re splitting that with me.” Peter warned you and pulled you by the waist towards him.
“I’m sorry.” You said with a mouthful of scone. “I can’t. Don’t hate me.”
Tag List 🏷️
This was loosely based on “In My Head” by Nell Mescal and Sex and The City! 🍔
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