Chat History
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“Fucking hell…” Peter groaned, running his fingers through his hair as he climbed up the staircase towards his and you’s apartment, his helmet clutched in his free hand.
He hated working during the winter seasons, all the cold fucking wind made his fingers hurt like hell. Even the gloves he wore didn’t help much, specially since he couldn’t fucking grip any of his tools with those things on. *get fuckin’ yelled at for not wearin’ shitty fuckin’ gloves..*
‘Least he was almost home and he could chill, smoke some weed with his sweet little you perched on his lap. Maybe order food, give you a good fuck..not in any particular order.
“Hey, sweets.” Peter calls out as he opens the front door, the warmth of the apartment warming his cold bitten cheeks. “Was thinkin’ we could order somethin’ from Pops? Been cravin’ one of them fuckin’ burgers.” He smirks, laughing to himself as he sets his helmet down and shrugs off his leather jacket. Glancing over his shoulder, eyebrow raised when he realized you hadn’t come running to greet him like usual.
“Babe?” Peter calls out again, his boots thumping against the wooden floor as he curiously peeks into the kitchen before turning into the living room. you was there, sat on the couch with their nose in their phone, eyebrows pinched together.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” Peter asked, crossing the room to sit down next to them. His large hand coming to gently rest on their back as he peers over you’s shoulder to look at their phone. On the screen, at least a dozen messages from an unknown number - however, as Peter’s eyes quickly scan the threatening and anger filled messages, he immediately knows who it was. Beatrice, his crazy fucking ex.
“What the fuck?” Peter growls, snatching you’s phone from their grasp as he stands up, angrily pacing the length of the apartment living room as he reads all of the messages. “I thought you blocked her? Did this fuckin’ crazy bitch get a new number?”
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