SIMPURNATURAL

The right side of his mask had been ripped off at some point during the fight. his eye and cheek bone visible.

"Hey, don't worry," you whispered, shoving your camera into your bag. "Let me help you," you insisted as you looked over your shoulder to ensure that nobody was watching.

"It hurts really bad," he groaned, feeling your hand glide against his chest, wincing as you softly brushed your hand across his lower rib cage.

"We need to get you to the hospital," you said.

"N-no hospital!" he asserted, grabbing hold of your wrist.

You rolled your eyes at his words, a plan already in mind to help Spider-man. After rummaging through the dumpster bins, you found some raggedy clothes that reeked of cat piss. Tossing them to him.

"Put them on," you instructed, as a look of disgust flashed in his eyes. "It's the only way we'll get a doctor to see you without finding out who you are. And even if they did, it would be a violation of HIPPAA if they ratted you out." you explained, easing the brunette into complying.

"Fine." Peter huffed, pulling off his mask and then wriggling out of his suit.

Your guarded him as he changed, hiding his suit in your bag. Peter's busted up face looked at you with a thankful smile. But the front row seats to the gun show were a great exchange for your act of kindness.

In a shirt three sizes larger and sweat pants that pooled around his feet, you acted as his crutch. After waving down a taxi, you helped him into the backseat before sliding into the front seat.

"NYC Health hospital please," you told the driver, securing your seat-belt across your torso.

From that day on, Peter cherished you for your unwavering kindness. He helped you move up the food chain, from newbie journalist to award winning investigative journalist for the New York Bulletin.

You always got the big scoop from Spider-man himself to include in your articles. A department dedicated to hero news was established because of how frequent your stories got published.

In turn, you helped sway the citizens of New York from seeing Spider-man as an anonymous bad guy. But instead, an amazing hero with the ability to always look out for the little guy.

Even after all these years, never once did you reveal Spider-man's identity. But as the years progressed, so did you feelings for Peter Parker. The boundaries between friendship and romance became a blur.

Peter showed up at your door one night. It was almost routine at this point, which you had grown accustomed to. You'd order pizza while you patched him up, listening to him ramble on about the bad guy he just locked up.

He carefully studied how you stitched his wounds shut. Various tools and medical supplies scattered across the coffee table. You took care of him all this time. Just like every other time he needed someone, he knew he could count on you.

Your eyes shifted up to his after you secured and trimmed the last suture. His face was a dangerously short distance from yours. With his hot breath hitting your face.

Peter got swept up in the heat of the moment and pressed a kiss to your lips. Yet he pulled away immediately, searching your face for a reaction. You blinked hard as your mind processed what had just happened.

"I'm sorry-I shouldn't have done that." Peter said quickly, scooting himself away from you while still sitting on the couch.

The silence that filled the room was deadly. You watched as Peter's eyes squeezed shut, his lips forming a thin line while his mind began to spiral.

You placed a hand on his thigh, causing him to look back at you before you spoke, "I'm not sorry."

"You don't want this," Peter scoffed, "It's gonna get messy," he sighed as he shook his head in disapproval.

"I can handle messy," you replied, a smile growing evident on your lips.

Shit very much hit the fan after that. The sex was rough and heavy. Peter always left you afterwards, letting you wake up to a half empty bed. He wasn't sure about what kept him coming back for more.

Maybe it was because you were Peter's one and only deep connection. But as much as he didn't love you, he just couldn't afford to lose you. It was a cruel deck of cards that he once again dealt for himself.

So Peter didn't clear it up. Never slapped a title on it. This unclear distinction in your relationship ate you alive. All while your heart ached for him, in a way he would never reciprocate.

It was another day in the office, drafting up a story in regards to Spider-man's part in locking up the notorious Scorpion once again. Going into detail about the several Damage Control break-ins. You stared at your computer, swiveling back and forth in your chair. Just then, your assistant came rushing over with a look of urgency on her face.

"Spider-man sighting, ma'am." she squeaked as she handed you her phone.

Pushing your glasses up the bridge of your nose, you zoomed in on the location. It was an apartment building, the same exact one that Peter told you he visited a couple nights prior. For a party, allegedly.

"The spidey-tracker never lies," you sigh, checking the images posted by other users. Photos revealed Spider-man swinging through the city with a mystery woman. "I'll check it out myself."

You monitored Peter's location and followed after it, wondering who this woman was and why she's so important. The tracker led you to a the rooftop of a random building. Neon light signs adorning the roof in big letters.

Upon making your hastened ascent to the roof, you pushed open the access door just a tad. Through the small opening, you saw Peter. He stood across from the woman with long, tousled dark hair.

You couldn't make out what she was saying him. But in this moment, their actions spoke louder than words. You watched as she peeled his mask back and pressed her lips against his.

Peter didn't push her away, instead he melted into the kiss. Stifling a gasp into the crook of your elbow, tears began streaming down your cheek. As they pulled away from each other, you caught a glimpse of the look on Peter's face. Love was written all over it in permanent ink.

Countless questions raced through your mind. Your eyes burned as they pulled each other into a tight embrace. The softness and yearning Peter had for this woman was something you've never experienced in all your time of knowing him. It felt like a punch to the gut.

Then you left the scene as quickly as you arrived. Never looking back once.

A week almost passed, with no update on Peter's condition after he stormed the Damage Control facility on Roosevelt Island. Bill Metzger, the head of the department, was conducting inhumane testing on gifted individuals.

And you, for once was not documenting every minute of the scandal. Instead you were actively sulking in your home. You were heart broken and conflicted by recent events.

You flipped through the news channels, anxiously awaiting news about Spider-man. Luckily, channel two was broadcasting live from the crowd gathered outside Bellevue General hospital. Everyone began chanting "Spider-man!" as New York's victorious hero rose from death's door.

Spider-man stood in the window, facing the crowd. His fists pumping in the air in triumph. Your heart skipped a beat at the sight. The news anchor confirming Peter's positive recovery allowed relief to wash over the entire city, including yourself.

The buzz about Spider-man and all his great works continued to play on TV as you shuffled into the kitchen. Just as you started loading the dishwasher, a knock was heard at the door.

You made your way to the door and swung it open, revealing a pretty banged up Peter in a Bellevue General hospital quarter zip.

"Hey," Peter smiled.

"Is that all you've got to say?" you questioned, your sadness returning. "Hey," you mocked. "Please don't tell me you came all the way over here just for me," you scoffed, waving your hand at him dismissively.

"I figured you'd want first dibs on how Spider-man stopped Jean Grey and exposed Bill Metzger." Peter replied, taken aback by your coldness.

"Why don't you help me write this major headline then," you spat before you held up your palms. "Peter Parker kisses mystery woman on roof top," you announced, hands waving about theatrically.

"You know about MJ?" he asks, his brows pushing together in confusion.

"I know you kissed her." You corrected, "Followed that stupid spidey-tracker and found you in the midst of your romantic escapade." you elaborated and watched as the light bulb behind Peter's eyes flickered on.

"MJ was being mind controlled," Peter argued back. "She didn't mean to do that!" as he stepped forward - backing you into your own apartment.

"But she means something to you, right?" you countered, watching Peter thwip the front door shut. "Who is she?" you demanded, voice shaking.

"It's none of your fucking business," Peter shot back.

"Oh so you just go around kissing everyone you save?" you accused.

"What's it to you even if I did?" he retorted defensively. "You're not my girlfriend so stop acting like it," he commanded, his arms jutted out in your direction.

"Damn right, I'm not." you chuckled darkly. "But you're a fucking ass hat for not telling me that in the first place!" you shouted, eyes stinging as the tears collected in them.

Peter stopped arguing, knowing damn well that he strung you along all this time. His heart ached because he felt guilty, not because he loved you. He just didn't realize that you fell in love with him and hit the ground hard in doing so.

"I told you that it would get messy," he finally spoke, recalling your conversation from that night.

"Does the front page headline Spider-man; Hero and Heart-Breaker sound messy enough for you?" you proposed.

Peter stammered to find his voice in that moment, “You think?” he blurted out, hoping his voice didn't come out too eager.

“Well it sounds like I spent a lot of time with you and that my dad really cared about you.” You summed up, looking to him with a smile.

“Y-yeah, it felt like that,” Peter nods, “We were really good friends,” he reiterated once more.

“Well since you know everything about me, tell me about you,” you reply. “But you can leave out the sad bits, I wouldn’t want to remember that.” you joked and Peter blinked, wondering if you were serious. “Tell me everything Peter,” you insisted with a laugh.

Peter was grateful to have this time with you. For you to get reacquainted with him. He talked about how he fought Thanos with your dad whilst in space. His Aunt May and how much she liked you. The botched spell and why everyone had to forget him. Everything about him was so complex. A pang of guilt hit you, feeling sorry for not being there for him when he needed someone. He had spent four years alone.

You excused yourself to get some water, and got up from your seat. You walked into the kitchenette and searched for a glass. Peter couldn’t contain his smile. The two of you slipped back into each others lives almost seamlessly. He was beyond grateful for your trust and understanding, a trait you got from your dad no doubt.

Suddenly, you lurched forward. Your body thrusting itself against the counter-top. Peter sensed it-the ominous presence had possessed you. He stepped forward as your head was thrown back by an invisible force. Peter called out your name, treading carefully. A sinister laugh left your throat, shoulders shaking with every breath.

“You’re trying really hard for her to like you again Peter,” you said, posture straightening slightly. You turned to him, "Because she does not have a single memory of you in here," you hummed.

"Leave her alone!" Peter demanded, charging forward and wrapping his hand around your throat. "She doesn't deserve whatever you're doing to her!"

He watched as your eyes wandered left then right, flipping through your mind like pages in a book. A mischievous grin dancing on your lips as Peter's grip had lifted you a foot off the ground.

“She does feel bad for you. But all she remembers is Spider-man and how he selfishly chose what was best for him.” You cooed, a rasp in your voice from the lack of oxygen.

"I gave up everything to save everyone," Peter spat back, his hands beginning to coil tighter around your throat. His eyes glazing over in rage.

"And what did you get for being the hero?" you asked. "Nothing."

"Leave. Her. Alone." Peter asserted.

"Okay." you beamed before your eyes rolled back.

You regained consciousness instantly. A gasp for air was stuck in your throat. Looking down, you saw Peter looking up at you with a murderous glint in his eyes, his hand wrapped around your throat. Instantly, you kicked both heels to his chest, sending him flying backwards. After knocking the wind out of him, Peter struggled to get back up.

"What the fuck, Peter?" you snapped as you raised your palm.

"I can e-explain," Peter pleaded, trying to catch his breath.

"Don't come any closer, I will shoot you." you warned, your repulsor activating with a loud whirring sound.

"Please don't," he panted, trudging towards you.

"I said stop!" you screamed before sending a charged particle beam his way.

Peter ducked out of the way just in time, his eyes darting to the irreparable damage you dealt to his couch. A clean and precise circular hole right through the middle. He looked back to see you missing from the kitchenette and saw you had fled through the fire escape.

"Come back! I'm sorry!" He shouted after he rushed to the window, watching you fly off without looking back.

"So then you woke up and he was choking you?" Yelena summarized.

She insisted that you get checked out in the med bay. But all they saw were bruised indentations that resembled Peter's hand around your neck.

"Yes but I don't remember anything, I just wanted some water." you shrugged, being actively swabbed by the nurse as you spoke.

"Maybe you attacked him," Yelena suggested.

"But why would I do that?" You retorted.

"Well you must've done something to piss him off," she replied as you sat there in silence.

"Maybe that possession thing happened and something took over me?" You wondered aloud.

Yelena shot up from her seat and stepped back. Her hand hovered over the pistol resting on her hip. Just then, Bucky walked in - confused by the scene unfolding in front of him.

"What's going on? Where have you been?" Bucky questioned like a worried mother, stepping in between the two of you.

"She could be possessed." Yelena explained, causing the Winter Soldier to look back at you. "You're grounded." she decides almost instantly.

"But-" you began.

"No buts. No missions. And no spider-man." Yelena pronounced, you looked to Bucky who just nodded at her decision.

"Yelena!" You scoffed, "You're making a big deal out of this," you insist, crossing your arms in annoyance.

"Quiet leshy," the blonde replied. "You are to stay in the tower til the doctors can prove you are not possessed by a ghost.".

You slumped back into the hospital bed, upset with their firmness to keep you under house arrest. But there was no use in changing their minds. And they were valid to be wary, seeing that you were mentally susceptible to whatever or whoever fondled your brain.

They even took your phone and other gadgets away in the meantime. Especially since you usually had access to some pretty dangerous equipment. The facial recognition system only allowed you to go to your room, the communal floor, and med bay.

So while most of the team was out on missions, you were stuck rotting in the tower. But you weren't entirely alone, Bob was there too. Since he was also a loose canon, you guys binge watched chick-flics with copious amounts of popcorn.

Peter was worried sick and felt terrible. He tried calling you non-stop that day. Until he decided to just give you your space. Hoping to be able to reconcile things with you and explain himself.

You watched as your boyfriend's hands explored your body, whatever he could reach was being grabbed at. A gasp left your lips after Peter playfully smacked your ass.

"But you're in big trouble," Peter tsked, his finger tucking under your chin so you'd look into his eyes. "Touching my stuff without asking," he sighed. "I don't really share the suit baby," he explains as his touched drifted toward your chest.

With one tap of his finger against the spider emblem, the fabric became loose. Peter watched as it fell off your shoulders and pooled at your ankles. Leaving you in nothing but your underwear.

The sight before him now was even more enticing than before. The tent in Peter's trousers was very evident as you crossed your arms, trying to cover your exposed breasts.

"Let me see you baby," Peter instructed, taking hold of your wrists and moving them to your sides.

He cupped your tits gently, one in each hand, and gave them a squeeze. Taking one into his mouth, he suckled on it gently. Your hands found their place in his curls.

"Baby," you moaned as his tongue flicked at the bud before moving to the next one.

His mouth working on your chest could've gotten you off and Peter knows that all too well. But he decided that you needed to learn your lesson.

"On your knees baby," he smirked and you obeyed.

Kicking aside his suit, he took off his clothes in record time, and flung them over his shoulder. Peter took hold of your wrists and tied them together with his organic silk. Followed by binding your ankles together, leaving in such a compromising position.

"You're gonna work for my cum baby," Peter says as his length hung dangerously close to your lips. "Understand?" he asks, looking down at you.

"Y-yes," you muttered with a gulp as you tried fidgeting your wrists but to no avail.

As you leaned in, Peter bent his knees slightly so you wouldn't strain your neck. He watched as you kitten licked the tip teasingly, droplets of pre-cum landing on your tongue.

He savored the sight of your tongue painting stripes up and down his length. Gliding your mouth against the sides of his hard cock, saliva dripping from your mouth as you did.

"You're so pretty like this," Peter grinned deviously as you worked on him. "Taking my dick so good baby," he complimented.

Peter took hold of his member and dragged it across your face. You whimpered as he smudged your make up without regret. With his other hand, he secured your hair into a makeshift ponytail.

Wordlessly you dropped your jaw, allowing his cock to fill your oral cavity to the hilt. Your gag reflex kicked in as the tip brushed the back of your throat.

Peter groaned as your tongue went flat under his thick length. He began fucking your mouth, guiding you around him as he pleased. You moaned around him, watching him lose control.

A layer of sweat was plastered against his forehead as he thrusted himself down your throat. Uttering countless praises for how perfect you are for him. The saltiness of his impending load starting to trickle through his slit and onto your tongue.

Peter's gaze drifted to the reflection in the mirror behind you. Getting off at the sight of your hips rutting back and forth with nothing to ease the aching between your thighs.

He cupped your jaw and slammed himself into your mouth. His balls smacking your chin as he chased his high. But just before he came, he pulled out of your mouth.

A gasp left your lips as his hot seed scattered across your face. Peter stroked himself down from his climax. The way he used your mouth was undeniably hot. Your mind was already replaying the moment as he untied you from the bonds around your wrists and ankles.

You sat on the floor, awe struck as Peter began putting his clothes back on. He shot you a grin that told him he wasn't quite done with you. But he was willing to leave you in you sexual distress.

"Peter," you whined as you watched him slip his shirt back on.

"I gotta start dinner baby," Peter cooed as you pouted your lips. "I'll make sure my girlfriend cums so good tonight." he smirks before leaving the room.

"So we're not gonna tell him to meet us at the Avengers Tower?" You asked, turning to Yelena.

"Rule number one, don't let strangers into your house." the blond replied as she waved her finger.

The two of your rode in the back of an SUV. On your way to meet Spider-man, who requested your help with recent news circulating about Damage Control Center break ins.

"Then where are we going to meet him?" You spoke.

"In my office," Yelena shrugged as the car stopped.

Your eyes darted to the navigation system projecting from the dash, 3250 Brighton Beach. Looking out the window, you read the words Banya or "Bath-house".

"What?" Yelena whined as you looked at her with an unamused expression. "This is also a great way for relaxing," she reasoned, pushing you out of the car.

"I think calling it your office was kind of a stretch," you commented, "Especially when we have newly renovated office space at the tower," you added as you both stepped into the building.

The two of stepped inside and Yelena shared a couple words with an elderly lady. You were handed towels and told not to pee in the hot tub. The instruction made you laugh but the old woman didn't think it was funny. Yelena was right, this was great even though it wasn't conventionally correct for an office. But when has your life ever been conventional?

"See?" Yelena asked, arms spread as if to say Viola. "You're enjoying it just like I thought you would." she nodded with a proud smile.

"I'm glad we're doing this while I'm not on my cycle," You mentioned before shooting her a look that said Sorry.

Yelena simply waved her hand at your words, "I'm not missing out on the blood gushing from my insides every month. Less hassle for me." she shrugged.

Just then, the sound of feet padding across the tiles was heard. The famous Spider-man stood before you in all his glory. You raised a hand out of the water and waved at him.

“Hi, nice to see you again,” you smiled.

Peter was stunned behind the mask, finally getting to be face to face again. His heart hurt, knowing that he was wiped from your memories, just like the rest of the world.

“Haven’t seen you since that whole Mephisto thing in Europe,” you added, which snapped Peter out of his trance.

“Right yeah,” Peter nodded, scratching the back of his neck nervously.

A shared history was a simple way to put things. But Peter will always know you as his first avenger friend. You both were giddy teens when your dad put you in the ring during that whole Sokovia Accords debacle.

It was Peter's first time riding a private jet, both of you got new suits, and your friendship came naturally. But now. it was as though you only knew him at a surface level. Including whatever Yelena found in his file.

Yelena dismissed Spider-man's theories of brainwashing and suggested that the mystery villain was capable of possession. You agreed and so did Spider-man. He bid the two of you goodbye before heading to Damage Control.

Peter was a wreck later that evening, recklessly swinging back to his apartment, and wishing he could reverse the cruel fate he dealt for himself.

He stumbled back into his apartment and rummaged through his desk. Gripping the note that held his confession, for those he cared about to remember him. His eyes glossed over it, drifting past Ned and MJ's names. A piece of him shattered, plagued by the sight of his friends moving on with their lives without him.

Just then, his thumb brushed over where your name was scribbled on the lined paper. A droplet from the tips of his hair dampened it, he felt as though he still had a chance with you.

But as he shoved his hand in his pocket for his phone, his wrist twitched. His eyes widened at the vein bulging, painfully attempting to burst through. Falling to his knees, he braced himself against the desk for support.

He was frightened by his reflection, he looked up to his computer screen in fear. His eyes were overcast by darkness. Stumbling back, he grabbed his phone as his breathing staggered as though it were fleeting from his lungs.

"E.V.I.E." he gurgled just before collapsing to the floor.

Walker was leading a mission recap at the dining table whilst everyone ate dinner. Everyone chimed in once in a while but truly had their focus on the takeout laid out before them.

"I feel like you guys aren't listening," Walker said, thin lipped as everyone looked at him before continuing to eat.

"Oh, you finally noticed?" Ava huffed as she momentarily ceased digging through the small box of lo mein with her chopsticks.

"I-I was listening, Walker." Bob spoke from his seat at the other end of the table, raising his hand.

"Thanks Bobby," Walker nodded just as your phone rang.

The screen flashed that an incoming call from "Spidey" was coming through. Assuming it was important, you answered right away.

"Sorry," you apologized before leaving the table, pressing your phone to your ear. "Hello?" you asked into the device, receiving grunts and a loud thud from the other end.

You immediately thought to track the location of the call and told Spider-man that you'd find him soon as possible. Hanging up, you went to your room to suit up.

A voice came from your doorway as the nanotech suit concealed itself within the bracelets on your wrists. "Little potato stuff," Yelena muttered.

Turning to face her, you let out a small laugh, "He called and I think he needs my help," you reasoned.

"Alright well, call us if you need back up. But I'm sure you can handle it." she shrugged as you both made your way to the landing platform.

Pushing your open palms to the ground, your forest green iron woman suit formed around your body. After giving your friends a salute, you flew off into the night to rescue Spider-man.

Upon landing on the roof of what seemed like a crummy apartment building, you made your way down to the floor the call came from. You sent out a winged drone for recon to scan the level from the outside.

"Any other heat signatures?" you asked into your wrist.

"Negative, miss." replied S.A.M., your Sentient Assistance Module. "Nothing except for Spider-man's was detected." he mentions.

You raised your hand and a lock-pick was created in seconds by the nanotech. Quietly, you unlocked the door and stepped inside. The cold lights of the apartment still on but nobody in sight. The apartment was covered in spider webs from floor to ceiling, you waved your arms around to clear them out of your path.

"Where is he S.A.M.?" you questioned.

"Unconscious on the fire escape." S.A.M. answered, "It seems as though he has been wrapped in a silk nest." he observed as the drone perched itself on the railing beside the scene.

You turned to the open window and ran over to the white cocoon. Tearing through it with your hands, the pail face of an unconscious brunette man greeted you. Not a moment later, you pulled him out with ease, thanks to your suit bearing the weight as well. Placing him on the couch, you pulled the raggedy blanket draped over the back of it.

"Vitals." you prompted, your drone hovering over the suspected unmasked Spider-man.

"Condition is steady." S.A.M. remarked, you let out a breath of relief.

Peter rose from his slumber on the couch with a groan. The sun beamed through the windows of the apartment, blinding him momentarily. Peeling his eyes open once more, he saw someone sitting on the kitchen counter.

"Take it easy, Peter." you called out, watching him flinch at the sound of your voice.

"H-how do you-what the hell happened?" he blurted out in confusion as he lifted his blanket, revealing his boxers. "Jeez," he muttered at his almost nude state.

"Found your note," you hummed, waving the parchment in your hand. "I thought about not believing you but I was literally a victim of the blip so," your voice trailed off momentarily. "It's not the craziest thing I've read," you shrugged.

Peter sat up as you pushed yourself off the counter and walked up to him. "What happened to me? And how did you find me?" he asked, looking around.

"You called me last night," you replied, "Do you remember that?" you quizzed, plopping down beside him.

"No but-"

"I tracked your call," you explained, handing him the confession filled paper. "Don't worry. I didn't raid your apartment for any other things. This was just left on the floor." you admitted.

"What did I do?" he asked, noticing the cobwebs scattered across the ceiling and various corners of the studio apartment.

"Nothing crazy," you responded, "Just wrapped yourself up like a little caterpillar,' you said and Peter shot you a look.

"I did what?" Peter questioned, "I don't even have my web shooters on," he realized, looking down at his wrists.

He noticed a small opening where his veins were bulging out of the night before. Freaked out, he shot up and pressed his fingers against his wrist. White organic fluid sputtered out of his wrist.

"No offense, but that's gross," you commented as Peter gagged at the foreign change. "You're literally Spider-man, how do you not know that about yourself?" you commented in confusion.

"I-I make my web cartridges. I've never seen anything like this before," he shared honestly, "This is so weird," he whined, trying to conjure the webs on command.

"I have so many questions." You agree.

Little did Peter know, this was just the beginning...

Later that week, Peter coincidentally caught you in the elevator and suggested to exchange numbers. This made him eager to read every notification that graced his phone screen. Something about finally letting someone into his life made him happier.

Someone who finally cared about him and someone he could care for. Not because he was Spider-man but purely because he's Peter Parker.

After you finally unpacked the last of your belongings, you invited Peter over for dinner. He accepted almost immediately and made sure to grab an extra bouquet from the bodega. As he stood in front of the cashier, a wave of nervousness overcame him.

"May, I think I found someone," Peter smiled as he sat on the grass in front of the headstone. "And I think you'd really like her." he mentions. "Also got these for you," he said, placing down the yellow carnations.

His jaw clenched as he fought to keep the smile on his lips, not wanting to break. "She bakes a really mean cookie," he laughed. "And I'm going to her place tonight." he adds just before dusting off leaves from the headstone. "Miss you May... Wish me luck."

"Peter!" you greeted, as he presented you with flowers. "Come on in! Let me put these in water real quick," you excused before stepping back into the kitchen. "These are beautiful," you smiled before smelling the roses.

"I couldn't just show up empty handed," Peter replied, kicking off his shoes and locking the front door behind him.

"Well as long as you're here with an empty stomach," you said, placing the flower vase on your dining table.

Peter wandered around the communal space like it was a museum. The air was filled with the scent of something savory and something sweet. Candles on the coffee table provided warmth to the room. Jazz music played in the background. Artwork and framed photos adorned the walls.

Everything about your apartment felt cozy and warm. Something Peter hadn't felt in a long time. After admiring your space, he joined you in the kitchen.

"What's on the menu for tonight?" he asked, arms crossed as you slid on oven mitts.

"We've got salad, lasagna, vanilla cake, and wine." You announced before opening the oven and setting the dishes on the stove top.

Peter set the table without being asked and helped you bring the food to the dining table. As you both took your seats across from one another, you shared a smile.

"Thank you for inviting me," Peter said as you served him. "Haven't had a real home cooked meal in a bit," he mentioned.

"Well thanks for being my first friend in New York," you replied, serving yourself as well.

You both chowed down in a comfortable silence. Peter nodded with every bite, shutting his eyes as if it would deepen the flavors. A small giggle left your lips as he ate his plate clean.

"That was great," Peter huffed, leaning back in his chair. "Where'd you learn how to cook like that?" he asked.

"The food network," you stated, patting your lips with your napkin. "I love being in the kitchen-acting all domestic," you shrugged and Peter laughed in turn. "What?" you laughed, "Corporate can suck the life out of you." you remarked.

"It's just that you seem to be the jack of all trades," Peter noted, taking the empty plates to the sink.

"I dabble," you hum, grabbing your wine glasses and the half empty bottle of Sauvignon. "I'm holding you hostage for a little while longer," you call out as you made your way to the couch. "We're gonna watch a movie." you declared, taking a seat.

"A movie?" Peter asked, moving away from the sink and looking to you with a somewhat surprised expression.

"Unless you got somewhere to be." You said, looking back at him.

Peter pulled his phone out momentarily and texted Detective DeWolff that he'd be busy tonight. Shoving his phone back in his pocket, he wandered over to the couch.

"Nope. I'm right where I wanna be," Peter assured and sat right beside you. "What're we gonna watch?".

"Notting Hill," you grinned, "A classic." you sighed contently before taking a sip from your glass.

As the movie began, Peter slipped an arm over the back of the couch and you leaned into him slightly - eyes still locked on the screen. But his gaze was set on you and you knew it.

"The movie is in front of us, Peter," you blushed, not meeting his stare.

"R-right." He stuttered and finally faced forward.

Peter scooted in closer, allowing you to rest your head on his shoulder with his arm now draped over your slouched frame. He inhaled the scent of your perfume. It was something he would remember for years.

You were practically shaking on the inside. A good looking, muscular man was enjoying a romantic film with you? Could've sworn that you were dreaming. But it's not like you'd want to be woken up from it anyway.

He watched as you let out a laugh whenever something comedic happened on screen. Or the way your eyes would widen in surprise as if you hadn't watched this film countless times. Everything you did seemed to amuse him.

After the movie concluded, you walked Peter to the front door and thanked him for such a fun evening. Even as Peter stepped out into the hallway, the two of you couldn't stop talking until

"Hey, some of us got work in the mornin' lovebirds!" a disgruntled voice called out before a door slammed shut down the hall.

"Yeesh," you snickered quietly, "I'll let you go home now," you sighed, looking to Peter. "Text me?"

"Of course," Peter replied like doing so was already part of the plan. "Uhm..."

"Yeah Peter?" you asked, looking to him as he was trying to find the right words.

"Goodnight." Peter finally breathed out after a few seconds.

"Okay, night night!" You beamed before closing the door.

You finally let out the breath you didn't know you were holding in, letting your back rest against the door. But a knock came a second later.

"Yes?" You said, seeing Peter still standing before you as you opened the door.

The energy suddenly shifted into something more intimate as he wordlessly stepped back into you apartment. You heart was racing, thumping in your ears as Peter shut the door behind him without a second glance.

"I don't know what you've done to me," Peter confessed, kicking off his shoes, "But I'm not leaving til I found out," he breathed and cupped your face.

"I could say the same thing about you," You purred before being pulled into a kiss.

Peter lifted you into his arms, as kept his lips on yours. Your hands roaming through his hair, tugging at the roots, and ripping a groan from his lips.

"Where's the bedroom?" Peter hummed after reluctantly pulling away from you.

You pointed to the door and Peter carried you over with ease. Upon opening the door, Peter laid you down on the bed carefully. Even though the moonlight was the only thing offering illumination in the room, it made the moment all the more intimate.

Peter pulled his shirt off in one swift motion. You sat up slightly and took off your top and trousers. You felt a dip in the mattress and Peter joined you on the bed. Spreading you legs, Peter slithered through them and began trailing wet kisses across your chest.

A moan escaped your lips as his lips wander up your body. Peter wove dark hickeys into the crook of you neck. He gave your tits a tight squeeze before pressing his lips to yours again. You gasped as you felt his fingers head down south.

Slipping his hand under the hem of your underwear, he massaged your clit. You whimpered against Peter's mouth as he coated his fingers in your slick. His motions were precise and almost brought you to your release.

"Not yet," Peter chuckled, pulling his hand away from your drenched cunt.

Peter pushed himself off the bed and shoved his pants off along with his underwear. His throbbing cock springing free, you gulped at his size. He looked up at you, smirking at your slight apprehension of his girth.

"Don't worry," Peter assured, crawling back onto the bed. "I know you'll stretch so well for me." he cooed as he positioned himself between your legs.

Your hand grasped his forearm as you eyes blinked at his brown ones, "Slow, please," you begged, a shade of embarrassment on your face.

Peter grunted at your request before rolling his hips against yours. his cock slid with ease into your cunt but stopped halfway. Your hold around his arm never wavering, nails digging into his skin.

He lowered himself, the two of you chest to chest. Tears pricked at the corner of your eyes, your walls barely able to compensate for his length. Peter pushed your legs further apart, allowing himself to rest his chin in the crook of your neck.

You felt his mouth softly nip at your skin, abusing the area that made you moan the most. A choked cry came out as Peter thrusted the rest of himself inside til he bottomed out. After that, he laid on top of you and didn't move a muscle. He felt your walls stretch, just like he said.

"M-move now," You stuttered, finally releasing Peter's crescent moon marked arm from your grasp.

Peter listened and pushed himself up with his hands, his hips moving fluidly. He watched his cock disappear and reappear with every thrust. Your wet core making his length glisten in the moonlight.

"Haven't fucking let myself feel anyone in so long," Peter grunted, watching your tits bounce with every thrust. "Your pussy feels so good," he groaned as you arched your back.

You couldn't even think of anything to say, incoherent nonsense falling from your lips. He jutted himself into you relentlessly, the pace picking up gradually.

"Peter," you whimpered as the smacking of skin echoed through the apartment.

"What?" he snapped through gritted teeth, focusing on the high he was bringing himself to.

"So fucking rough," you whined but that only egged him on further.

Peter's arms caged your had, allowing his hips to do all the work. You were at a loss for words as your eyes drifted down. His cock ramming into your cunt over and over again.

"Give it to me," Peter hissed, leaning down to kiss you. "I wanna milk this pussy," he ordered before biting your lip. "No one's ever fucked you this good," he chuckled as your eyes rolled back.

"Yes, your dick-oh fuck," you slurred, your mouth agape as his cock worked itself deep inside you.

"What about it? Huh?" Peter remarked as countless moans left your lips. "Is it fucking this tight hole? Yeah it is," he grinned, loving how speechless you were. "So fucking good. The best thing you know how to do is take this dick," he boasted.

"I'm so close," you whispered, cupping Peter's face.

"All this dirty talk is getting you off, huh?" Peter replied, slamming his hips harder into yours. "Cum for me," he instructed, "Squeeze around this dick,".

You came hard around him, legs shaking but Peter never faltered in using your hole. Peter shot ropes of cum inside you shortly after, his hips stuttering slightly. He kept himself inside for a moment despite watching his warm seed leak out of you.

He wanted to hold his tongue because he trusts you. But all that calm, cool, and collected energy went out the window when he got home. After kicking ass and saving the day, Peter walked into what seemed like a date.

A bouquet of flowers on the coffee table, some rom-com playing on the tv, and you were standing by the stove making dinner. Joe was setting the table and glancing up at you like a precious gem.

"Hey baby, you're home!" you smiled, looking away from the simmering pasta sauce. "I decided to make pasta and Jay wanted to come over and join us!" you informed as Peter dropped his bag by the front door.

In an instant, something reawakened in Peter. But in this moment, Peter only thought about marking his territory.

Your boyfriend walked over to you, attempting to hide a small limp he acquired today from fighting crime. Placing his hands around your waist, he pressed a kiss to your lips-a hungry one at that.

"Peter," you tsked, attempting to mask the red hue that rose to your cheeks. "We have a guest," you whispered and cocked your head in Jay's direction.

After dinner, Jay had bored Peter to death while he talked about himself. Jay wasn't even a complex individual to begin with. But alas, you listened attentively with the occasional nod as he droned on.

"Looks like I've lulled Peter to sleep," Jay joked, looking at how Peter disinterestedly rested his chin in the palm of his hand. "I'll take that as my cue to go," he said, rising from his seat.

You trailed after him and the two of you walked to the front door. Jim patted his pockets and muttered a curse word under his breath.

"What is it?" you asked, as Jay glanced around the apartment.

"I think I forgot my wallet," he chuckled, you turned and searched the dining table and found it the chair beside the one Jay sat at. "Thank you," he smiled, taking it from your hand as you held it out to him.

Peter watched as Jay's thumb brushed against the back of your hand. Then he watched as you erupted with laughter after he whispered something in your ear.

"Good seeing you," Peter said curtly, stepping in between you two a second later.

Jay was at a loss for words as Peter practically kicked him out of the apartment. A confused look on his face just before the door was slammed shut abruptly.

"What is your problem?" you gasped, looking at Peter and then back to the door in shock. "That is so rude," you reprimanded.

"I've been out all day. Sorry I just didn't want company over today," he huffed, trudging towards the couch before plopping down.

"You always do this! Always making Jay uncomfortable," you point out, "What has he ever done to you?" you questioned with your finger jutted out in his direction.

"Oh, I don't know," Peter scoffed sarcastically, "Maybe eye-fucking my girlfriend?" he added in a duh tone. “Are you sure he’s just a friend?”

“Why are we asking dumb questions?” You replied, brows pushed together in anger.

“Why are you acting so dumb?” Peter spat back.

“Excuse me?” You huffed, taken aback by his words.

“Or do you just like the attention? The way he stares at you. Or mindlessly agrees with everything you say?” Peter quizzes, stepping up closer to you.

“He’s, my friend! Friends listen and hang out. What’s so wrong about me having friends Peter?” You groaned, frustration evident in your voice.

“It’s wrong when the friend clearly wants to fuck you!” Peter quipped less than a second after.

“No he doesn’t,” you said, shaking your head in disbelief.

“Oh, but he does. No guy has his lock screen set as a photo of him with his platonic girl-friend who clearly has a boyfriend!” Peter deadpanned.

“So, you looked through his phone?” You highlighted.

“So what? I got everything I need to know about that guy.” He scoffed. “Don’t even get me started on the shit in his private browser. Let’s just say all those models look like you” he added, like a slap to the face.

“And how am I supposed to believe you?" you huffed, realizing that your boyfriend was putting up a pretty damn good argument.

"E.V.I.E., pull up our file on Jay," Peter instructed and looked to his computer for a second. "See for yourself," he insisted, motioning for you to step up to his desk.

The artificial intelligence revealed countless images from Jay's devices. Messages with his friends that mentioned your name. Calling you cute, hot, and some other rather NSFW wordage. Countless photos of you, most of them taken without your knowledge. Then the screenshots of search bars from different x-rated sites, search results for content that matched your physical description.

You audibly gagged as Peter stood at your side, waving away everything E.V.I.E. was projecting. It made your skin crawl and your heart sink to the bottom of your chest. Jay turned out to be a disgusting pervert who took advantage of your kindness.

"Believe me now?" asked Peter, you turned to him.

"I'm sorry baby," You frowned before running into his arms. "I should've listened to you," you sighed, taking in his scent which helped calm you.

"You know I don't try to stop you from doing shit. But when it comes to protecting you, I'd do more than slam a door in some douche's face." Peter admitted. "Speaking of which. I gotta do something first." he mentioned, pulling away from the hug.

Peter grabbed his backpack and yanked his suit from it. You watched as he slipped it on, you worried about his tendency for emotional recklessness. He was about to pull his mask on just as you spoke.

"Peter, what are you doing?" you asked.

"I'm gonna teach that fucking weirdo a lesson." he saw before fully covering his face and opening up a window.

"Don't get caught please," you plead as he perched himself on the window sill.

"He'll be lucky if he's still breathing afterwards." Peter chuckled darkly before thwipping away.

"Fallin' For You" by Colbie Caillat echoed through the kitchen of the beach house. You twirled around the island as you grabbed various ingredients to make your famous poppy seed muffins.

You were unaware of Conrad's presence, his back resting on the archway that separated the kitchen from the living room. A soft smile rested on his lips. He watched as you abruptly stopped in your tracks and screamed, dropping the spoon you were using as a microphone.

"Conrad!" You whined, rounding the kitchen island just to land a playful fist on his chest.

"Hey," He gasped, a playful twinkle in his eyes. You let a squeal as he began chasing your around the room.

The two of you kept finding yourselves at opposite ends of the island. Just then, your eyes landed on the sack on flour on the counter. Your intrusive thoughts won as you found yourself grabbing a fistful of the white powder.

"Don't you dare," Conrad warned, pointing a finger at you.

"Watch me," you replied before a heap of flour hit him square in the face.

"This means war. You're so going down," He smirked, hopping over the island.

The two of you left trails of flour around the first floor. You dashed back inside from where you two were having a standoff by the pool. Surely, you lost Conrad since you ended up shoving him in the water. Your chest rose and fell quickly in anticipation as you pressed your back against the wall. Conrad emerged from the pool and swiftly removed his shirt, throwing it on one of the chairs.

He called out your name as he stepped back into the house, you hid in the corner of the formal dining room. Your hand hovered over your mouth, trying to quiet your breathing. The floorboards of the living room creaked ever closer to the foyer.

"I know you're there," Conrad said just as he stepped into the entry way.

You pursed your lips, trying to quietly slip back into the kitchen. That stealth mission didn't work though, and you ended up bumping your heel against the floorboards.

"Gotcha!" Conrad declared, dashing into the formal dining room just as he watched you run into the kitchen once again. "You know I'll catch you eventually, right?" he asked, sauntering in behind you as you stood across from him.

Your eyes briefly explored his bare chest and Conrad caught on almost instantly. He blueish-green eyes staring at your wandering eyes with a smirk.

"Like what you see?" He teased, stepping closer.

"Is this really the time for jokes?" You retorted, stepping back til you hit the table behind you.

Your jaw clenched as Conrad closed in on you, his arms extended at his sides to easily catch you if you tried to run. Throwing your hands up in defeat, you sighed with a pout.

"Don't be so sad," Conrad chuckled just before picking you up and throwing you over his shoulder. "I haven't even thrown you in the pool yet." he adds as he carried you outside.

"N-no! I surrendered!" You pleaded, kicking your legs.

"Well, we're already here," Conrad shrugged before tossing you into the pool.

You shivered at the uncharacteristic harsh words that left your boyfriend lips. But not out of fear but because it turned you on.

With pursed lips and filled with anticipation, you unbuttoned his pants. After yanking down his jeans along with his underwear, you watched his cock hit his lower abdomen.

“See how hard you got me baby?” Peter groaned, one of his hands instantly working on smoothing out the beads of pre-cum dripping from his slit.

You licked your lips and nodded wordlessly. Peter chuckled darkly as you subconsciously leaned forward just a bit. His other hand cupped the side of your face before pressing his thumb past your lips.

With his mouth agape, he watched you suck his finger as he stroked his cock. Your eyes remained glued to his while you swirled your tongue around his thumb.

Just then, Peter threw his head back and his eyes were eclipsed by a dark cloud. The amount of arousal rushing through his system basically sent him into overdrive.

You were well acquainted with this side of Peter. Always thrilled anytime he made an appearance. His head snapped back down and stared at you like a predator with his prey.

“Missed me?” Peter asked, his voice dropping a couple octaves. “Been rubbing your thighs together all day-waiting to take this cock, huh?”

“Y-yes,” you stuttered, not denying his observation. “I’ve been waiting so long,” you frowned as Peter stroked his cock lazily.

“Good thing the right guy came out to give it to you baby,” he said, eyes gleaming with pride.

Peter rid himself of his shirt and lifted you over his shoulder with one arm. Wordlessly, he walked over and placed you down on the bed.

He didn’t even wait for you to take off your clothes and began to attack your neck with hickeys. Sure to leave bruises that would last for days. Tearing through every piece of clothing that got in his way.

Your could’ve sworn that your cunt developed a heart beat as Peter ripped your blouse off with his teeth. Buttons scattering across the floor.

Your skirt torn and tossed out of sight and of mind, along with your panties. A whimper fled your lips as Peter dragged you by the ankle. Leaving your legs to dangle over the foot of the bed.

Immediately, he brushed the head of his cock against your folds. Coating the tip with a layer of the wetness escaping from your core.

“Baby, you have no idea how fucking sore this pretty little cunt is gonna be.” Peter shook his head as you begged for him to fill your walls.

Peter’s hands pressed down on the back of your thighs, keeping your hole nice and open for him to use. You shivered as he blew cold air over it, he loved watching you squirm.

“Don’t worry, I’ll have you moaning in no time,” Peter assured before shoving his cock inside you, til he bottomed out.

“Oh fuck,” you hissed, Peter immediately locating that sweet spot.

“Mhm, I know right where you need it baby,” he smirked as his hips snapped against your ass.

Your hands clawed at his chest relentlessly, red marks adorning his abs. Peter watched as his cock disappeared into your pussy. Just for it to bulge slightly at the bottom of your stomach.

He pressed a hand right where the outline of his cock appeared inside you. The pressure making your walls squeeze even tighter around his length. You gasped as Peter kept his hand there, loving the feeling of how deep he was able to go.

Peter’s cock continued to hit your g spot relentlessly. Your eyes instantly sealed shut as your first orgasm hit. But you knew he wasn’t done with you.

His eyes still clouded by pure lust, he flipped you over and finally joined you on the bed. Only for him to position you on all fours and make you take him again.

Your legs shuddered as he slammed his cock into you from the back. His hands grabbed your waist to keep you steady.

“Peter,” you moaned, your voiced being muffled by a pillow as he shoved your head down.

Peter watched your ass quake with every thrust. His hands slithering around your breasts, giving your nipples a pinch.

“Just take it baby, that’s it.” Peter cooed as the sound of skin slapping echoed through the apartment.

You sobbed as another wave crashed over you, your legs finally giving out. Peter smacked your ass after you slumped over.

Peter crawled up to the head of bed, turning you on your back. With the flick of his wrist, he tied your hands to the head board with his organic silk webbing.

With his cock harder than ever, he rubbed it against your face. You gasped at the feeling of his pulsing veins gliding across your cheek. The aftermath of your orgasm spreading all over your skin.

“Open your fuckin’ mouth,” Peter instructed and your jaw immediately went slack. “Good girl,” he praised. Peter shoved every inch down your throat, watching you wriggle about at the loss of oxygen.

“Breath through your nose,” he reminded, tapping you face with the back of his hand. With a relived rise of your chest, he grinned devilishly.

Taking a handful of your hair into his grasp, he guided your mouth around his length. You watched in awe as he rutted his cock down your throat.

“You like tasting this dick baby?” Peter asked, not even waiting for an answer. “Tasting a little of your sweet self, aren’t you?” He teased.

You moaned is response, Peter felt the vibrations rattle around him. He loved seeing you all fucked out and dumb. It’s what drove him to his climax.

“Just like that baby,” Peter groaned deeply as you began bobbing your head down his length.

Peter grabbed the headboard for stability as he shot ropes of cum down your throat. Succeeding his high, Peter blinked. It was like a switch was flipped behind his eyes and cleared his mind. Gently, he pulled his cock from your mouth and removed the webs from your wrists.

It was your sweet and soft, boyfriend looking at you with concern as if he didn’t just your brains out. Your eyes fluttered shut as he asked if you he was too rough. Much to his relief, you shook your head with a lazy smile.

“Baby, you took me so well,” he whispered, pressing kisses to your cheek. “C’mere,” he sighed and watched you curl up into him.

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.

Steve and Sam were wandering around the pool table, beers in hand, just as Peter strolled up to them.

"Don't tell me that's alcohol juvenile," Sam remarked, pointing to the glass in the teen's hand.

"And if it was?" Peter asked coolly just as Steve snatched it into his grasp. "Hey man-C-Cap," he said quickly, watching the super soldier take a whiff.

"Apple juice," Steve stated with a small laugh, handing the cup back to Peter who's shoulders slumped.

"Keep your voice down," Peter pleaded in a whisper, looking around.

"Ah! The Spiderling!" Thor's thunderous voice boomed as he walked up to the three. "Good to see you again," he grinned, clapping the kid on the back.

"Hey Mr. Thor," Peter chirped, his energy up once again.

"Tell me more of this earthling school you attend," the God of Thunder insisted. "Do you learn of enchanted roots and plants before or after learning how to subdue a three-headed creature?" he asked curiously.

The teen looked back at him confused before replying, "Like herbology?"

"Precisely." Thor nodded.

"Well, I've only heard about that kinda stuff in the Harry Potter movies," the teen answered, causing the God's brow to lift as more questions entered his mind.

"Tell me more of this Harry, son of Potter as we peruse Stark's kitchen," Thor suggests, his arm now fully around Peter's shoulders. "I require help in my search for the pop tarts," he adds as they walked off.

"It's been him?" Sam scoffed in astonishment. "He's the one eating the pop tarts in one sitting?" he looked to Steve quicky.

"Always been," the super soldier shrugged just as the elevator chimed, notifying that someone else has joined the party.

With hands shoved in his pockets, hair combed back neatly, and his beard newly trimmed - in walked Bucky. Shy and apprehensive as ever but decided to make an appearance tonight.

"Hey James," a feminine called out from behind the bar.

The brunette turned and saw Nat, who's current mission was to try to keep the over consumption of alcohol to a minimum tonight. Bucky's lips formed a small smile at the greeting and took his seat at the bar.

"Glad you could make it," the red head said, leaning over the counter before asking "What can I get ya?".

"Uh...Nothing too fancy," Bucky requested kindly.

Natasha served him scotch in a chilled glass and one of those fancy cubes of ice from the fridge.

"Thanks," he nodded before lifting the glass to his lips and taking a sip. "Shouldn't you be enjoying the party over there with the rest of them?" he asked, his vibranium arm creaking back to point at their friends.

"Well, someone needs to keep an eye on the alcohol," the assassin shrugged, "Plus, people watching is fun." she adds shamelesly.

"There he is!" Sam cheered as he and Steve approached the bar, taking their seats beside Bucky.

"It's not a big deal," Bucky sighed, rolling his eyes at Sam's enthusiasm.

"And he got a lil' dressed up," Sam hummed, not caring about the grumpy ray of sun beside him.

"It's a nice look Buck," Steve assured, noticing the dress shirt under his best friend's leather jacket.

Clint plopped down on one of the unoccupied couches and sighed a breath of relief, resisting the urge to kick his feet up. But just as he thought he earned a moment to himself, the twins joined him.

"Oh, hey guys," he greeted, trying to sit up a bit, "Enjoying yourselves?"

"Definitely," Wanda nodded, amused by the chaos around her.

Pietro sped off and returned with a tray of hors d'oeuvres, stolen from one of the servers.

"Where are your manners?" Wanda tsked her older brother, raising her palm and flicking a finger upward.

Suddenly, the tray in Pietro's hands began rising to the ceiling. The speedster rolled his eyes at the levitating food.

"Not fair," He groaned as Clint just watched the interaction, wishing he had popcorn.

Then poof, a bucket of movie theater popcorn appeared in his lap. Wanda gave the older avenger a smile before returning the tray back to the bewildered waitstaff who was insisting to his boss that it had vanished.

"I can take another one you know?' Pietro reminded his sister, who was already fed up with his childish ways.

"And I can take it from you just as easily," the witch retorted before her brother walked off.

"I should start asking for your help getting up into the vents," Clint admitted. "My back's not as young as it used to be," he adds, eating from the seemingly never-emptying bucket.

"You know I hear you in there," Wanda reveals, "Eating chips, watching videos, spying on people" she lists off.

"Don't shame a guy for his knack of boots on the ground journalism," he replied, throwing his hands up in defense.

"You climbed in there to watch Bucky go to the kitchen last week," Wanda reminded.

"And aren't you glad that I asked Shuri and T'Challa to send us a vibranium refrigerator?" Clint quipped, "The guy ripped the fridge door clean off," he reiterates, pulling his arm back to reenact how Bucky literally disarmed the kitchen appliance.

So much went on in Avenger's tower that night.

Rhodey and Sam had to call multiple taxies for the guests who got a little too drunk to drive home.

Bruce finally joined the party after Vision listed off the reasons why secluding oneself from co-human activity was bad for one's mental health.

Thor tore another humongous hole through the quinjet landing platform because he insisted on retrieving the best mead in all of Asgard.

Steve showed Peter his vinyl collection, insisting that some classic tunes should be included in the teen's Spotify playlists.

Wanda winning countless rounds of Jenga, but no one dared to suspect that she was cheating.

Tony getting a call from Pepper and having to assure her that everything was fine even though she got a message from Happy about the ventilation system getting switched off again. We all know it was Clint anyway.

Nat and Bucky sharing a beer and watching as everyone got totally shit faced from the safety of the bar area.

The gossip column arrived on doorsteps all around Mayfair. Just days after Lady Danbury hosted the very first ball of the season.

As you sat in your home's drawing room, the sound of excited footsteps came from down the hall. Eloise rushed through the doorway and stood before you.

"The latest Whistledown has arrived!" she held two pamphlets in her hand triumphantly before lowering them down to your eye level.

You took one eagerly from her with an anticipated gasp as she joined you on the sofa. Eloise cleared her throat before reading;

"Dearest Gentle Reader,

The season has at last risen from her slumber, and as the ball held at Danbury Estate revealed, the ton has returned with renewed zeal. This writer must commend the hostess, for not all who orchestrate a gathering can do it as masterfully as Lady Danbury.

Apart from the ball room adorned with crystal chandeliers, wall draped silks and jewels, a certain gentleman caught this writer's attention. For seemingly, his mind was not set to depart from festivities as he's done previously.

It would seem that Mr. Benedict Bridgerton has developed a distracting habit. For he spent a large portion of the evening stationed in one corner of the ballroom, paying no heed to the conversation held in front of him.

Whether the lady he focused on from afar was made aware of the unwavering attention, remains a mystery. Perhaps, someone ought to suggest that she look up and around from her conversations with others long enough to catch Mr. Bridgerton's hopeful glances.

One can hope she returns his affection, before his gaze wanders elsewhere."

Eloise looked up from the paper with a look of disgust, "I didn't want to read about my brother's love life in today's pamphlet" she said, pressing the paper flat on the cushion beside her.

Whatever else your best friend had said in that moment became a distant whisper.

"The mystery lady couldn't possibly be me" you thought, because how could it?

There were countless other marriage-minded ladies in London that Whistledown could be referring to. Your mind retraced every moment you had with Benedict;

He smile every time I am near... he smiles at everyone He acknowledges my interests... he was being polite He seeks me out... because that's what good friends do

The thought of Benedict having any romantic interest in you felt ridiculous, humorous at this point.

"I wonder who she is," you wondered aloud, a sense of intrigue and curiosity overtaking you.

"Who?" Your brunette friend questioned, whipping around to look at you.

"The woman who caught Benedict's eyes," you clarified, raising the paper slightly before dropping it back onto your lap.

"Well whoever she is, ruined my morning," Eloise huffed, "Say, why don't we try these chocolate truffles to ease our minds of this rather ridiculous column?" she suggested, already reaching for the desserts on the table in front of her.

You suddenly felt significantly less interested in whatever today's itinerary held in store. The smile you held faltered, conversation seemed less entertaining, and your world felt like it had been colored a shade of grey.

"Who has captured your attention dear?" Violet asked her son, entering the drawing room.

"I haven't got a clue as to what you are referring to, Mother," Benedict responded honestly, having barely gotten out of bed and dressed as it is.

"Well the Whistledown-" Lady Bridgerton began.

"Speaks rumors and lies once more?" her son replied with an amused look.

"What has she written about our family this time?" Francesca questioned as Lady Bridgerton offered her the latest issue in her hand. "Ah yes, Benedict's hopeful eyes have garnered the attention of the entire ton," she sums up sarcastically but still matter-of-fact.

"I have not done anything with my eyes that would be significant enough to write an entire gossip column about it!" Benedict's eyes widened in shock, his arms momentarily thrown above his head in defeat.

"It says here, that you spent a majority of Lady Danbury's ball gawking at an unknowingly lady,' Francesca said, her eyes flickering from her mother to her brother.

"That's preposterous," Benedict insisted, sinking a bit more into his chair as he attempted to recollect his memories from that night.

As he sat there in deep thought, pinching the bridge of his nose - you and Eloise waltzed in. He peeked over his shoulder and offered a small wave.

"Hi," You blushed, but the dreadful feeling in your stomach hadn't died down just yet.

Eloise ushered you towards the sofa across from a very concentrated Benedict. She insisted that a change in scenery would uplift the random change in your demeanor.

"So who's the lucky lady?" Eloise teased, leaning forward.

"Not you as well," Benedict grumbled, his eyes rolling hard in disbelief.

Just then, John, the Bridgerton's footman cleared his throat and announced, "A Lady Cowper and Miss Cowper are here to see you, Mr. Bridgerton" his eyes locked on the back of Benedict's head.

"Wonderful," Eloise commented bitterly as Mrs. Wilson and the other housemaids flooded the drawing room with refreshments.

You watched as Benedict quickly adjusted his attire and brushed a hand through his hair. "How do I look?" He asked jokingly, looking to you.

"Handsome," you answered truthfully.

"Stupid," Eloise retorted at the same time.

In came Cressida and her mother. Cressida's undeniably well-constructed hair and her dress an eye-sore shade of magenta.

Benedict rose to his feet and Lady Bridgerton moved and stood at his side. They greeted the pair with a warm smile, Lady Bridgerton ushered for them to take their seats at the farther end of the drawing room.

She then turned to you and Eloise and spoke, "Out you go ladies, and do take Francesca with you please,".

You watched as Cressida and Benedict slipped into conversation immediately. The blond fanning herself slowly as she giggled at whatever words he spoke, easily amused. Benedict wore a kind smile and never once pulled his gaze from her, even as you departed.

Cressida had always been known as the opportunistic type. But seeing the way Benedict spoke to her - you hadn't even realized that the pair shared a bit of chemistry.

In the days that followed, Eloise would update you regarding Cressida's increasing presence at the Bridgerton's. Which was why you found yourselves either lounging in the comfort of your own home or on promenade more often.

You saw less and less of Benedict, seeing that his attention had been drawn somewhere else. This made it easier at times not to interact with him because one would never want to sway a man's decision. And Benedict clearly chose Cressida.

Even though the pairing was a bit odd, you didn't have a say. Benedict was never your's and neither were you his. Maybe that's what pained you the most, knowing that you never stood a chance.

"Will you be attending the concert later this evening?" asked Eloise, pulling you from deep thought while you strolled through the park.

"Yes, my parents have decided that we would," you nodded, "And you?"

"God no, I will find myself fallen ill and bound to my bed shortly before my family departs," she says with smile, proud of her plan.

"Is a concert just so dreadful?" you laughed as she nudged your shoulders together playfully.

"I simply do not feel like being cinched into a corset all evening and finding myself unable to breath," Eloise explained, linking her arm in yours as you continued your walk.

You looked out the window as the carriage came to a halt in front of the theater. You noticed the Bridgertons had arrived as well, stepping out of their carriage one after the other.

"Lady Bridgerton," your mother called out to her friend as she stepped out.

You and your father followed and found yourself face to face with Benedict. He stood there charming as ever in a gorgeous, rich shade of blue.

"Good evening," he greeted with a playful bow.

You did the same with a smile, "Good evening to you as well, Benedict".

"Apologies, Eloise has successfully managed to remain at home for the evening," he mentions as he fell in stride with you.

"She mentioned she would this morning," you noted, Benedict's eyes lighting up in surprise. "Something regarding a corset and not wanting to be stuck in it." you added.

"If I had to wear one, I wouldn't wish to be in one all evening either," Benedict admitted just as someone stepped in front you. "Ms. Cowper," he announced as she shot you a conniving smirk.

She squirmed herself in between the two of you and locked arms with Benedict. "Mr. Bridgerton," she sighed sweetly before her gloved hand motioned for you to be gone.

You turned on your heel, agitated and not hesitating to leave the two alone. Your feet carried you further into the theater as you tracked down where your parents had gone.

After locating them in the Bridgerton's booth, you took a seat in the same row as Colin and Francesca. The three of you laughed at Eloise's ploy to not be in attendance just before the lights in the theater dimmed.

Lady Bridgerton turned to you and wore of look of confusion as if you someone was missing. "Where's Benedict, dear?" she asked quietly.

"He must be with Cressida," you replied, hoping your response didn't sound as disgruntled as the way it formulated in your mind.

Lady Bridgerton paused for a moment before turning back around and resuming her conversation with your mother and Lady Danbury.

Moments later, after the orchestra performed the first piece piece of the night, Benedict came in, and gestured for Colin to move down a seat - vacating the one on your left.

"What have I missed?" he asked you in a hushed tone after taking his seat. The way his hot breath danced dangerously close to your ear made you shiver.

"A violin concerto in d major by Beethoven," you whispered back, trying not to focus on how close he hovered next to you.

"I've been looking for you," he admitted, "You rushed off after Cressida arrived." he reminded, still quiet as ever.

You looked at him, not truly believing that he was searching for you after being whisked away earlier.

After receiving no response he mentioned, "I haven't seen of you recently. Perhaps you're avoiding me." he meant for it to be a light-hearted jab.

"You've been busy," you said, eyes returning to the stage below you.

"It seems as though you've been busy as well," Benedict suggests but didn't receive a response. Something tells him that there was something amiss with you.

Your usually talkative and bright self has seemingly crawled back into her shell. Benedict is never one to pry but a feeling of genuine concern rushed through him.

"Is something the matter?" he asks, causing something inside you to rupture but you took a deep breath.

"I hope you're happy," you say with a strained smile, not daring to face Benedict.

His own smile falters at your words and merely says, "What?". Benedict's mind scoured for any reason that could've resulted in your coldness.

"Cressida?" you remind but he still doesn't fully understand. "She seems lovely," you say before clearing your throat as Benedict fell back into his seat.

But then he realizes and turns to look at you once more, your eyes couldn't help but turn to his blueish-green orbs. He searched your face for a moment, hinting that you were joking but he could only see an unreadable expression.

"Are you jealous?" Benedict blurts out, but it doesn't roll off his tongue teasingly but almost...offended. "Is that what you think?" he questions as the heat of embarrassment rises to your cheeks.

Before you could think of anything else, you rose from your seat and excused yourself. You found your father and claimed that you felt unwell. Lying, in hopes that you would leave this retched concert.

Benedict watches as you depart with your parents just moments after he had finally made a breakthrough. He felt as though he was spiraling as his mind replayed every moment.

The Whistledown pamphlet, Cressida sticking to his side like a disease, and your newfound avoidance and coldness. It finally clicked, you believed that he had found someone else.

Cressida hadn't even entered his mind as someone he could picture himself marrying, let alone courting. In his mind, he was merely being polite since he was meant to be a gentleman in society. But doing this only pushed you away from him. He ultimately decided that he must do something about it.

In truth, Benedict realized that the one person he looked for in any room was you. Now he worried that you believed he had taken your feelings for granted. He was just too oblivious to notice at first.

Benedict was now in a carriage, insisting to the Coachman that it was of high importance that he make it to his destination. The evening moon trailed after the carriage, as it rushed across cobble and dirt roads. He had left the concert early, determined to speak with you at once.

He nearly launched himself through the carriage door and handed the coachman a shilling or two more than the posted rate, thanking him for making haste.

His fist met with your front door, hopefully knocking loud enough to wake anyone. The door swung open and your footman looked at the rather disheveled and breathless Bridgerton.

"Mr. Bridgerton?" he asked, "Are you alright?"

He requested your presence, "Wake her if necessary,' he instructed as he entered your home.

Benedict watched as the footman nodded and called over one of the house maids, murmuring something inaudible. The maid then rushed up the stairs and out of Benedict's view.

Moments later, you came downstairs in your nightgown with your hair braided neatly over your shoulder. Seeing Benedict this late at night caused your brows to stitch together in confusion.

"Benedict, what are you doing here?" you asked, gesturing at the house staff to leave the foyer where the two of your stood.

"I came to see you," He replied, his hands placed at his hips.

"Clearly," you huffed, "It's nearly midnight," you said with wide eyes.

"I had to speak with you, before you conjured up anymore wrong assumptions," Benedict explained, making your bite the inside of your cheek anxiously. "I enjoy your company immensely. Then your visits stopped and instead I was bothered by countless debutantes. Even Eloise became unbearable," he smiled, you laughed at this. Your laugh made his smile grow exponentially. "I wish it hadn't taken me so long to realize what I was missing," he confesses as he looked into your eyes.

Your breath nearly hitched under his intense gaze. "So... you weren't looking at Cressida?" you asked, Benedict's face contorted at this.

"I hardly noticed she was in attendance," he shook his head. "In every room, I long for your presence. I look forward to every time we speak to one another because you feel like a breath of fresh air. It is like you add color to my life. Colors that even as an artist, I never knew could be created." he said, his eyes possessing the very hope you read about before.

"The look of hope was meant for me," You finally realized.

Benedict didn't wait a moment longer and crashed his lips against yours. His hands cupped your face gently, like he was afraid to break you again. The two of you relaxed as your mouths mold together.

You smile into the kiss and so does he. As it deepens, it isn't one of lust but one of relief. Relief from misunderstanding and feelings no longer being hidden from one another. You both instinctively pulled back from the kiss and gazed into each other's eyes.

Benedict wanted to picture or rather paint this moment, exactly as it was - perfect.

He grazed his thumb against your soft lips, wanting to kiss them once more. But instead, he took your hand into his grasp and began walking towards the door.

"Where are we going?" you asked as he opened it quickly.

"We must tell my mother," Benedict announces, "I've grown awfully tired of allowing people to guess where my admiration lies," he says with a smile.