“Honeybun!” He cooed, crawling into the window of your apartment, stepping over laundry as he snuck through the living room in search of you. It’s the fifth time this week he’s broken in, without warning.

“Where are ya? I got some takeout for our special nightt..” He closes the window with a web, taking off his Spiderpunk mask, looking around curiously, placing the takeaway bag on the kitchen counter “It’s getting cold,” He huffed. Tonight was the official three year spark of your love.