… Aidan Quinn
The car was gliding smoothly through the wet streets of Queens, rain getting heavier on the windshield. My hands were loose on the wheel, but my eyes were locked on the road. In the back seat, Gwen and MJ sat close together — that quiet kind of closeness between girls who understand each other's pain without needing to say it.
MJ had her arm draped across the back of the seat, leaning a little toward her friend. Gwen stared out the window, her hands fidgeting in her lap like she was trying to hold herself together.
They spoke in low voices. MJ whispered something — probably a dumb joke. Gwen let out a small laugh, more relief than amusement.
It was a nice sound.
The calm before the—
BOOM—!!
The light of the explosion hit the rearview mirror before the sound even reached us. The sky tore open in red and orange for a second, like a second sun had just blown up over the neighborhood.
"WHAT WAS THAT?!" Gwen shot up in her seat, eyes wide.
"Aidan?!" MJ gripped the back of my seat.
Any shockwave had been blocked by the Infinity I'd quietly extended, but there was no way to soften the sound.
Green Goblin.
I already knew he and Spidey were trading punches somewhere nearby.
But that…
That was too big to be just some leftover crossfire.
"Easy", I said, keeping my voice calm. "It wasn't here— not close enough. But we're changing routes."
"Was that an explosion?!" Gwen looked at me through the rearview. Her eyes weren't full of blind fear — they were alert. Like someone who knew that kind of thing shouldn't happen on a Friday night in a quiet neighborhood.
"It was", I admitted. "But no one's gonna lay a finger on either of you. I promise."
I turned right, off the main road, slipping into a quieter side street. The engine purred like it didn't care the world was ending just a couple blocks away.
Gwen kept taking deep breaths. MJ, though, reached over and put a hand on her friend's shoulder.
"Probably just… I don't know. One of those dumb vigilante fights", she said, trying to sound casual. "Spider-Man vs. some weekly lunatic." She paused. "That happens more than it should, right?"
"Oh, for sure", I replied with a crooked smile. "Two guys in costumes playing 'who's more traumatized.' Classic."
They laughed — a nervous kind of laugh — but still, it helped. Gwen leaned her head against the window. MJ slumped a bit in her seat, exhaling like she'd been holding her breath too long. But me? I stayed sharp.
Peter, you stubborn idiot.
I could see the traces of the fight. Energy sparks, vibrational trails, the lingering heat of Goblin's bombs. And just ahead… acrobatic leaps, the whip-crack of web lines, the familiar red-and-blue suit, scorched and torn.
He was dragging the fight away.
On purpose.
Peter might not be great with words, but he was a damn expert at sacrifice. He was pulling the villain away from where he could hurt anyone.
Or… someone who mattered.
I glanced at the rearview mirror again.
Gwen.
She was still staring out the window, but now her hand was holding MJ's. Even if she didn't realize it…
She was being protected.
And me? I'd play my part in this ridiculous superhero drama.
My role? Keep the girls safe.
While the world tried to fall apart around them, I'd make sure not a single piece even touched them.
Not the Goblin. Not the chaos.
And if Peter ever wanted to thank me?
He better pay for the pizza.
With stuffed crust.
…
The rain fell lazily, light and steady.
The car rolled calmly through the wet streets, the windshield wipers making that hypnotic sound. In the back seat, Gwen was leaning against the window, her face half-hidden but still faintly visible through the foggy glass. Her arms were crossed, body curled up like she was trying to take up less space in the world — or maybe just escape herself for a few minutes.
MJ sat beside her, a steady hand resting on Gwen's shoulder. She didn't say anything — didn't need to. Sometimes the right kind of presence beats any well-meant words.
I turned left, pulling onto the last street before Gwen's house. The porch lights were off, but even with the curtains drawn, you could see the faint warm glow coming from inside — like a shy invitation back to safety.
"We're here", I said, glancing into the rearview.
Gwen took a second to react. For a moment, I thought she hadn't heard me. But then she moved slowly, like she was returning from somewhere far off. She leaned forward and forced a small smile.
"Thanks, MJ."
"Always", MJ replied, her voice softer than I'd ever heard it.
Gwen hesitated, bit her lip, then looked at me.
"I… kinda want to breathe a bit. Can you wait with me, Aidan?"
I looked at her, then at MJ.
"Go," MJ said, giving me a look that said way more than words could.
I turned off the engine.
Gwen stepped out of the car, closing the door carefully — like even that took effort. She walked up to the edge of the porch roof, just out of the rain.
I followed, slower.
We stood there in silence for a while. Just the sound of water running through the gutters, the soft glow of streetlights reflected in puddles. She watched everything like she was hoping the world might say something she couldn't.
"I hate feeling invisible."
Her voice was quiet. Almost a whisper — but the kind that weighs more than a scream.
I didn't interrupt. She wasn't finished.
"It's like… when you're right there beside someone, rooting for them, being present, doing everything you can. But in the end, you're just… background noise. Like your existence is convenient, but never essential."
She turned her face toward me. Her eyes were slightly glassy, and it wasn't from the rain.
"Have you ever felt that way?"
"Maybe…"
She nodded like she already knew. Like that explained a lot.
"Is that why you were kind to me?"
"No", I said. "I was kind to you because you deserve it."
Gwen looked away, but her shoulders relaxed a little. That kind of relief you only feel when you hear something you didn't even know you needed.
"I'm not weak, you know?"
"Never thought you were."
She gave a half-smile, but there was something more behind it.
"Can I ask you something kinda dumb?"
"You can ask me anything."
She paused, like she was mentally organizing a messy drawer before opening it.
"Do you think Peter… sees me?"
I took a breath. Not because I didn't have an answer — but because I needed to give the right one.
"I think Peter adores you. But he's still trying to figure out what to do with all this. With you, with himself and sometimes… that process clouds his vision."
It was obvious — even without needing comic book knowledge. Gwen was Peter's first love. In this reality and probably a dozen others. TASM says it all.
She lowered her gaze, quiet for a moment.
"I don't want him to be with me just because I'm the easy choice. Or because I'm always around. I don't want to be picked out of convenience."
"Then show him. Girls can take the lead too, Gwen."
She let out a small laugh.
"You should be a therapist. Or write teen drama scripts."
"Like I'd waste my talent on that", I shot back with a smirk.
And we laughed. A real one — light and easy, breaking the heaviness in the air.
"Good night, Aidan."
"Good night, Gwen."
She walked up the porch steps slowly, but more steadily this time. At the door, she stopped, glanced back, and smiled — that quiet kind of smile that carries a thank-you tucked between the lines of her face.
Then she went inside. The door clicked softly shut, and she was gone.
I headed back to the car, where MJ was waiting with her arms crossed and a look that wasn't exactly teasing — but definitely had opinions.
"You were kind to her."
I nodded, starting the engine slowly.
"Gwen deserves it, doesn't she?"
MJ looked at me for a moment, then turned her face toward the window where the raindrops still traced lazy trails.
"So… now what?"
"Now… I take you home."
She laughed — the kind of laugh that washes away the last bits of tension.
…
The car cruised slowly through the quiet streets of MJ's neighborhood.
The rain was still coming down, light and steady, turning streetlights and houses into dancing reflections on the windshield. Warm yellow lights mixed with the muffled sound of water, creating that half-sleepy, half-electric atmosphere — like the night had paused just to breathe with us.
MJ was in the back seat, leaning forward with her arm resting on the passenger seat. Her eyes were focused somewhere down the road, but it was obvious her mind was somewhere else entirely.
She bit her lip now and then. Not out of nerves — more like she was weighing a decision.
I could tell from the little things. The way her fingers played with her ring, how softly she was breathing, the silence that carried more weight than any conversation.
When I pulled up in front of her house, she didn't move. No instinct to reach for the door. She just stayed there, thinking.
The rain tapped gently on the roof, and for a moment, the world outside felt like it was in slow motion.
I turned to face her.
MJ bit her lip again — but this time, her eyes were locked on mine.
"You okay?" I asked, with the kind of honesty that didn't pretend not to notice what was going on.
She nodded slowly.
"It's just been a weird day. A strange night. And…" she let out a short, breathless laugh, "... I feel like doing something that feels real."
I leaned in a little closer.
"Like what?"
She didn't answer with words.
She grabbed me by the collar and kissed me.
No warm-up. No ceremony. Just… a kiss. Hot, direct, with zero hesitation.
Her lips fit against mine like they already knew how. Her tongue followed right after — not asking, but demanding a response.
And I gave it.
My hands slid up her back as she climbed over the seat, straddling me with her knees on either side of my hips, like she'd done it a hundred times before.
MJ settled into my lap, her body aligning with mine like the universe had arranged this moment just for us. That tight dress didn't hide a thing — it just made everything feel more urgent. She moaned softly into my mouth, her fingers gripping my shoulders with intent.
"If I ask you not to leave right now… would you stay?" she whispered, her voice low and warm, no games.
I ran my fingers along her face, then her waist, feeling how perfectly her body fit against mine — like it was made to be there.
"I'll stay. Until you tell me to go."
She smiled — but behind it was something more serious. A flicker of vulnerability.
"I thought you'd go for Gwen."
I raised an eyebrow — not offended, just surprised.
"Do I come off that sleazy?"
MJ looked at me from above with that classic raised brow that said you really want me to answer that?
Right. Point for her.
"Those two are in love. I'm not trying to get in the way of that."
She studied me for a second, like she was measuring how much she believed that. But she didn't press. Instead, she kissed me again — harder, deeper, like she was testing how much of me she could handle.
"I'm not so sure about that…" she said between kisses, "... but tonight, I want you all to myself."
"Tonight, I'm yours", I replied without a second thought.
She rolled her hips slightly in my lap, and I felt the heat of her body through the clothes. My hands slid down to her thighs, gripping gently, then moving back up to her waist.
MJ rested her forehead against mine, breathing faster now.
"If I ask you to come inside… are we gonna do something stupid?"
I smiled against her skin, kissing her exposed collarbone.
"Probably."
She traced a finger down my chest, stopping right in the middle. The touch was soft — but clear.
"And if I want to?"
I brought my lips close to hers and whispered, "Then I'm not stopping you."
She closed her eyes for a second. Took a breath, let it go.
"Come with me."
MJ climbed off my lap, still breathing hard. She opened the door and stepped out into the rain without hesitation. Her hair started getting wet almost immediately, but she didn't stop. She just turned to look at me with that firm — and slightly impatient — expression.
"Let's go. Before I change my mind."
I shut off the car and followed her. The night seemed to swallow the sound of our steps, like it was rooting for us.
We climbed the porch steps together. Soaked, whisper-laughing, moving with that kind of quiet urgency only people who truly want each other understand.
Ready to make the kind of mistake no one ever really regrets.
… Mary Jane "MJ" Watson
MJ climbed the porch steps quickly, the cold rain soaking through the thin fabric of her black dress. She didn't care.
The dress had been her choice. Tight, short, elegant — like armor made of charm. But now, clinging to her wet skin, it felt more like a second layer of her own desire.
She unlocked the door and glanced over her shoulder.
Aidan was there.
Still, grounded in his own presence. Face half-wet, hair messy, T-shirt stuck to his chest from the rain.
And his eyes… still on her.
The tension between them crackled in the air — a charge that had been building since he showed up at the party. And now... it burned from the inside.
MJ stepped in first, tossing her keys on the entry table, her breath quick.
"Lock the door", she said, without turning around.
She heard the metal click behind her. It sounded like a seal.
When she turned, Aidan was already standing near the door, his eyes scanning her body with a silent intensity that made her stomach tighten.
MJ took one step forward, then another, stopping about a foot from him.
Her dress dripped at the hem. Her hair was damp, sticking to her neck. Her lipstick was smudged from the kiss in the car.
But she had never felt so… alive.
"I know you're not mine", she said, soft, almost a whisper. "I know you've got… other things. Other girls."
Aidan just looked at her.
"But tonight…" she went on, "… tonight I want you like you are."
She took the last step.
Her hands slid up his chest, over to his neck. Warm skin under her fingers. His scent mixing with the rain.
Aidan said nothing, but his hands found her waist.
She kissed him.
The kiss was hot. Mouths crashing, teeth grazing, breath hitching. His hands gripped her waist and pulled her closer, and MJ's body answered instantly — locking in, wanting, giving in.
She ran her hands up to his face, fingers digging lightly into his wet hair. Her mouth moved to his neck. She bit him — not hard, but enough to make a point: she could play, too.
"You gonna undress me, Tiger?" she whispered, breathless.
He smiled.
"You want me to do?"
MJ turned around slowly, glancing over her shoulder.
"Zipper. Handle it."
He did.
The sound of the zipper coming down was louder than anything else in the house.
The dress slid off her shoulders like it had been waiting to fall. It dropped like a secret revealed too late, baring her pale skin, free breasts, and hips dressed in nothing but a thin black thong.
She should've felt shy, but she didn't.
She felt powerful.
She felt… hungry.
And Aidan looked at her like she wasn't even real. Not like he was seeing a miracle — like he knew exactly what he was looking at. And he wanted every part of it.
Every curve, every line, every breath she took.
She stepped up to him again, closing the space.
His hands went straight to her waist. Slid up her back, down to her hips. He touched her like he already knew the map. Knew where to press, where to soothe, where to set her off.
"You sure about this?" he asked, voice low, rough, like he was barely holding it together.
She ran her fingers along his jaw and gave a crooked smile.
"Face it, Tiger… you just hit the jackpot."
Her legs wrapped around his waist as Aidan lifted her like she weighed nothing. She moaned against his mouth, feeling the heat of his touch, the friction of skin, the pleasure building between them.
They stumbled to the couch, all lips and hands and muffled laughs. When he laid her down, MJ was already breathless — not from the effort, but from the charge running through her body.
She tingled all over. Breasts tight, nipples sensitive to the slightest touch. Aidan's mouth moved down her skin with slow, deliberate teasing, waking up every nerve.
She arched at every kiss. Every soft bite. It felt like all the wanting from the party, the car, the entire week exploded right there.
When he went down between her legs, MJ didn't hesitate.
She opened up — literally, figuratively, fearlessly.
He tossed her thong like it meant nothing.
She welcomed his tongue with a shaky moan, her hips rising, restless, like they needed more than she could even give. Her hands gripped the cushions, then his hair.
"Tiger…" she whispered between broken gasps. "Don't stop… please don't stop…"
His tongue worked her like he meant it. Circles, pressure, patterns that stole her breath. And when his fingers slid inside — precise, deliberate, filthy — MJ lost control.
Her whole body shook. Legs closed around him. Head thrown back, eyes shut, mouth open in a raw, unfiltered moan.
The orgasm hit like a wave she'd been holding back for days.
But it wasn't the end.
It was the beginning.
Aidan climbed on top of her. His pants were already somewhere on the floor. His warm body fit against hers like it had belonged there since the first look.
MJ felt it.
His skin, the heat, the weight, the shape of him.
His cock sliding against her soaked entrance — just enough to tease, to make her want it more.
She looked into his eyes.
No fear, no shame.
Just want.
"Show me why no one else will ever be enough."
Aidan pushed in, slow and deep.
She let out a sound that was more than pleasure — it was relief.
Her body took him in completely. Like it was made for this. And when he started moving — slow, steady, locked into rhythm — MJ lost herself.
Lost herself in his body, his touch, his kiss, the roll of his hips against hers. In his eyes that never looked away. In the moans that came from her without effort.
The world faded.
The rain, the problems, tomorrow.
There was only this now.
Aidan's body moved over hers with deep, focused rhythm — hypnotic and heavy.
MJ felt every stroke like he was writing his name inside her, inch by inch. The couch creaked under them, swallowing the sound of their moans between hot kisses and ragged breathing.
She kept pulling him closer. She needed more.
Her nails scratched down his back — not to hurt, but to hold on like she might drown without him.
His mouth grazed her neck. Kisses, whispers — rough and hot — that made her bite her lip, roll her eyes back, moan louder.
The heat between her legs mixed with the sweat sliding down her stomach. Her breasts bounced with the frantic rhythm of pleasure.
His hand found hers, fingers locking together.
A simple intimate move.
But in that moment — in all that heat, all that instinct — that small gesture made her heart race.
MJ looked at him, eyes glassy, cheeks flushed, lips parted.
She didn't want this to end.
Not just the sex. The feeling.
Of being wanted, of being seen, of being… safe.
"Tiger…" she whispered, her voice breaking between moans. "I'm…"
He picked up the pace.
His thrusts hit harder, deeper. The sound of skin on skin filled the room with raw lust.
MJ felt it building — up her legs, through her core, into her chest.
And when he grabbed her waist tighter and slammed in one more time—
She broke.
Her whole body arched, legs shaking, eyes rolling back — a full-body orgasm ripping through her with a force she'd never felt before.
She cried out, loud. And he followed.
With one last deep, hard thrust, Aidan let go inside her. She felt the heat fill her, and for a moment… everything went still.
Only their heavy breaths. And the faint sound of rain outside.
He didn't pull out. Stayed there, forehead resting against hers.
Both sweaty, breathless, still shaking… but whole.
MJ smiled.
That real, goofy, post-orgasm smile. The kind that doesn't need words.
She ran her fingers along the back of his neck and murmured, voice still hoarse: "Now that's something you can't fake."
Aidan laughed, nuzzling her neck.
"And what's that?"
She bit her lip, looking at him.
"That this was the best decision I made all night."