Harrison Osterfield!!!!!!!!!!!

OMG THIS LITERALLY MADE MY DAY!!! 😭😭💖💖

Hi could I request a spider man x fem!reader? In which she is kind of an adopted daughter to Captain America and has to figh against Peter and Stark during civil war. But Peter can't hurt her because he has a little crush and after the avengers solved their problems Tony encourages him to confess

blink

pairing: peter parker x fem!avenger!reader

summary: peter and reader are on different sides of the civil war conflict, and peter finds that he just can’t hurt the girl he loves.

warnings: none! just soft, adorable, dorky fluff with this cinnamon roll of a boy

reader pronouns: she/her (by request)

word count: 3.5k (I swear I’m not trying to make a habit of this)

a/n: hello lovely nela! thank you so much for this request, it was such a cute one to write, and I hope that it’s everything that you wanted it to be 🥰 I’ll be honest, this one got away from me a bit, I got super caught up in their meet-cute and the exposition but hopefully that’s alright! I’m super excited to write more peter parker, and I’m really grateful that this was my first request for him. please feel free to request again, but also I’m really keen to hopefully get to your other request soon!

- daniella 🤍

*✧ masterlist ✧*

“Peter, what the hell are you wearing?”

From his crouched position, Peter glanced around quickly before shooting up, glaring at MJ. “I was trying to be incognito. Thanks for ruining it.”

“Uh, you’re literally crouching against a locker wearing all black clothes and black sunglasses in the heart of summer? Pretty sure you were a second away from ruining it yourself anyway.”

“Hey, I resent that-” Peter began, stepping forward as his arms crossed in spite, before his spontaneous attempt to spin back towards the object of his attention caused him to fall flat on his face.

Ignoring the chuckles emanating from the group that Peter was just peering at, MJ shot the back of his head a pointed look, as he remained flat on the hallway floor.

“Just tell me when they’re gone, alright?”

Glancing up at her, and accepting MJ’s outstretched arm, Peter lifted himself from the floor. “It’s not what it looks like.”

Furrowing her eyebrows, MJ retorted, “Oh, so you aren’t dressed as an emo spy, staring at that group of popular kids to get a glance at the new girl?”

A blush coated Peter’s cheeks as his arm automatically raised to rub the back of his neck. “Pfft, that’s uh…that’s absolutely…what I was doing. You got me.”

As he prepared to elaborate on his defeated response to MJ, the bell rang. Thankful for the reprieve, Peter glanced back in your direction, caught your eye from within the group and sent a small, awkward, wave your way. His breath hitched in his throat as you smiled warmly back at him and matched his wave in response, before walking off with the group. His heart soared when you glanced back at him before turning the corner on your way to your next class.

…

Resting his face on his chin, Peter watched you fondly from his regular seat in his physics class. Now, he discovered, one of three mutual classes that you had. You were discussing the work you had to catch up on with Mrs Warren, having transferred to the school part way through the current term, and Peter was mesmerised by your kind smile and glorious laugh.

Suddenly, he was pulled from his reverie by a sudden force, nudging him from his side. Scrambling to sit up properly, Peter turned to Ned, who was now smiling mischievously back at him. “Dude, you’re so smitten. I’ve never seen you like this.”

“Right. Smitten. Yeah.” Peter began, still focused on your conversation, before realising what he was admitting to. “I mean, no! I’m just trying to work out what the new girl’s deal is.”

It was a half-truth. The full truth was that Tony Stark, annoyed that Captain America had a new protégée, had asked Peter to gather intel, to work out what was so special about this girl that the Captain had ignored Tony’s pushbacks and insisted that the Avengers needed her as much as she needed them.

Tony had recounted the conversation to him the day before, with a level of detail that only pettiness allowed.

“She’s a good kid, Tony, and let’s face it - we can use as much support as we can get.”

“It’s not about how ‘good of a kid’ she is, Cap,” Tony began, pointedly. “She’s a kid, do we even know anything about her? Is she even on our side?”

“Our side?” Steve sighed, “Look, Tony, last I saw, she was saving busloads of kids from being crushed by the debris of collapsing buildings. She wants to help, and dammit Tony, she just needs a chance.”

“So you sympathise with her, is that it? She reminds you of how badly you wanted to fight for your country? The scrawny kid that just needed someone to believe in him?” He took a step towards Steve, and locked eyes with him. “You want to give her this chance enough that you’d risk her life for it, then by all means, bring her in. Just know that whatever happens to her is on your shoulders.”

An hour later, Peter had been summoned to Tony’s office.

“-And then he says ‘that’s a chance I’m willing to take, are you?’ and struts out!” Tony had marvelled at a speechless Peter. “I swear, if I have to spend one more minute staring at America’s ass as it walks away from me, I’m gonna lose it.”

Peter had chuckled lowly, unsure of how to respond to Tony’s outburst.

“It’s like, excuse me-” Tony began, spinning to face Peter with a pointed look, “Since when do we get protégé’s, am I right?”

Scrunching his mouth awkwardly as he thought of a way to reply that wouldn’t offend his new mentor, Peter had nervously muttered, “Well, I mean, you have me right, Mr Stark? I guess it seems kinda fair?”

In response, Tony waved a hand noncommittally, “Eh, it’s not the same.”

A little disenchanted, Peter raised an awkward hand to rub the back of his neck. “Uh i-it, it isn’t?”

Tony softened, clearly not meaning to offend him. Placing a hand on Peter’s shoulder, he responded, “Look, kid. I thought long and hard about inducting you into the Avengers, and it’s still something I have my reservations about. I don’t want to risk anyone’s life, but I have faith in you-”

Peter smirked up shyly at Tony’s words, and was met with the face of an inventor at work. “In fact, how would you like a little homework mission?”

And so here he was, sitting in his math class, trying desperately to find a way to talk to you, to find out literally anything about you. Partly for Tony, but mainly because he found himself drawn to you, and was unable to tear his eyes away.

…

Before he’d been able to report back to Mr Stark his findings, lacking as they may be, Peter had been alerted to a crisis that required immediate attention. Suiting up and swinging to his local bank, he was surprised to find the three bad guys already tied up and police sirens on their way. Standing in front of him, however, was a true sight to behold.

There you stood, beaming at him in an electric purple bodysuit. As he took the sight of you in, you walked towards him, placing a hand gently on his chin before whispering, “Looks like someone needs to work on that spidey sense, hmm?”

He barely had the time to regain regular brain functioning for long enough to formulate some semblance of a response before you were gone, vanishing as quickly as whatever witty remark he’d hoped to impress you with. Feeling a sudden emptiness without your intriguing presence, he came to and swung to his regular rooftop pondering space.

…

He could feel your presence behind him before you even said anything. He turned slowly to face you, relishing the moment of suspense as you approached him where he sat, legs dangling over the roof’s edge.

“Mind if I join you, Spider-Man?”

He shook his head, probably too eagerly, but you didn’t seem to mind. As you sat to his right, Peter blushed at your proximity, noting that with the whole roof at your disposal, you bunched up next to him.

You playfully nudged him with your shoulder, “So, what’s a sweet guy like you doing on top of a place like this?”

He chuckled, “Honestly? Trying to process how I’m supposed to feel about my job being done for me, and in such an effortless way.”

You smiled, eyes lighting up beneath your mask at the compliment. “Aww shucks, I’d say I feel bad, but I figure the quicker I am, the less risk there is to you. I’d hate to see you hurt because I didn’t get there fast enough.”

“I do, uh, I do have super healing, ya know?” He felt sheepish trying to impress you in such a boastful way, “-but I appreciate the sentiment.”

You smiled warmly, just as you had done in class earlier that day, and his worries disappeared. “So, uh, what are your powers?”

You laughed at his bashful curiosity, leaning towards him until your faces were mere inches away, before vanishing before his eyes.

Letting out a shocked gasp, Peter’s eyes widened, before he felt a gentle tap on his left shoulder. As he turned, he was met with a coy smile before you muttered, “Teleportation mainly.”

His jaw dropped in awe, “That’s-wow, that’s so cool.”

“Teleporting myself and small objects comes naturally but I’m still working on teleporting others,” you smiled warmly before adding, “-and don’t get me started on time travel.”

He audibly gasped, causing a fond chuckle to escape your lips. Just as he was wracking his brain for some topic to keep the conversation going, you stood up. “Well, this has been lovely but I have to head home. Hopefully I’ll see you around?”

He stood up, running a hand through his hair as he regarded you. “Yeah! I’d-uh, I’d like that.”

You seemed to consider him for a second, before quickly leaning in and placing a kiss on his cheek. When he looked back up, you were gone, and he found his hand automatically reaching up to where your lips had been, his cheek still tingling.

He was doomed.

…

Blink.

That’s what they’d called you. The week after your official meeting on the rooftop, the tabloids had been almost as fascinated with you as he was.

He had to admit, it was the perfect superhero name for you. Every time he saw you, whether in class or fighting crime, he was always terrified that he’d blink and miss you. In fact, all of your encounters since that day had been brief. And he hated it.

In painful irony, his meeting with Tony the next day had been agonisingly long.

“Alright, kid, what can you tell me about y/n?”

Peter had sighed dreamily. “She’s amazing, Mr Stark. She’s kind, smart, she smells amazing-”

“Woah, Underoos, got anything actually useful?”

Peter had snapped out of it, then, a furious blush radiating from his cheeks. “Oh, sorry Mr Stark, uh, well she can teleport herself and small objects, and she’s working on time travel. And uh…she…”

Tony’s eyebrows had raised in impressed shock, then anticipation as Peter fumbled through the rest of his sentence. “-she may or may not have gotten to a crisis call faster than me.”

“Now that’s something,” Tony pondered aloud, “Good job, kid, proud of you.”

Peter smiled at the ground, “So, are you thinking that she can join the Avengers? because that, gee, that would be-”

Tony rolled his eyes before sighing, “Teenagers.”

…

If there had been any sign that Tony had softened and was genuinely considering inducting y/n into the Avengers, as Peter so desperately hoped, it had vanished as quickly as she could, when the news of the Accords broke out.

Tony wasn’t acting like himself, at least from what Peter had witnessed. He was emotional, more unpredictable than usual, and worst of all, resigned. Peter barely knew the man, but he knew that one thing Tony Stark did not do, was give up.

And so, when Tony summoned him for the fight at the airport, Peter had no choice but to go. What he wasn’t expecting, however, was to see you. He would’ve been delighted, had you not been standing next to Captain America, and therefore, out of his reach.

Determined to prove his worth to Tony, and, though he hated to admit it, you, Peter seized the opportunity to make his presence known by disarming the Captain, using his web shooters to seize his shield.

“Nice job, kid.”

“Thanks! I could’ve stuck the landing a little better it’s just-” Peter was suddenly thrown off-balance as you suddenly appeared behind him, stealing back the Captain’s shield.

“You’ve been busy.” The Captain addressed Tony.

“So have you.” Tony gestured to you, now returning to Captain America’s side and handing him his shield.

Tony turned to you. “Look, kid, I’m trying to keep this guy from tearing the Avengers apart. It’s not personal, but I don’t want to have any more casualties on my shoulders.”

You nodded, respectfully, before retorting. “Is that why you’ve recruited a teenager to fight your battles?”

Captain America smiled proudly at you then, placing an approving hand on your shoulder.

Tony wasn’t having it, however, and the tense conversation quickly devolved into a full-blown fight. As Tony flew away in his suit, he assigned his team fighting partners. Peter, devastatingly, was assigned you.

He groaned, begrudgingly, as he sprinted towards the spot you had just been, gaining momentum to swing himself higher into the airport where he thought he noticed you re-appear. As you appeared before him, he waved, awkwardly. “Hey, y/n.”

You smiled, “Hey, Peter.”

“I hope you weren’t offended by what I said down there, I just think it’s a bit hypocritical for Mr Stark to say that he doesn’t want to take any more risks when he’s throwing you in the firing line whenever it suits him.”

Peter softened, “Ah, yeah. I appreciate you worrying about me, I really do, y/n, but Mr Stark’s a nice guy and he believes in me, I know he wouldn’t risk-”

“Less talking, more fighting!” Peter could hear Tony through his suit, “You can get your flirt on later, kid. I need you now.”

Peter turned to you, thankful for the suit covering his blushing cheeks. “Look, I don’t want to fight you, would you mind maybe teleporting around the airport and I can just give chase? I don’t want to let Mr Stark down.”

You smiled at his loyalty, and winked before vanishing and appearing on the tarmac, next to where Natasha and Clint were fighting. As Peter swings down, you vanish and appear behind him, tapping him on the shoulder. Peter notices your rhythm, however, and just before you attempt to teleport again, he catches you with his web fluid and pulls you towards him, holding your body against his own. He smiles down at you, “Hi again.”

You giggle, “Nice one.”

Before you pull away, Peter feels himself thrown to the ground, ears ringing, and notices Wanda chastising you. As Wanda goes to intervene between Natasha and Clint, you suddenly appear on your knees over Peter. He looks up at your concerned face, and his heart melts. “Are you alright?”

He smiles up at you, “I am now.”

Peter notices your blush at his sudden courage, and feels his heart swell, until he notices a trailer flying towards you and quickly leaps up, holding it above the two of you. “Are you okay?”

Your eyes widened with shock, you nod. “Let me help you with that.”

Peter watches you grimace under an invisible pressure before suddenly feeling a lightness above him. He notices the trailer, slightly bent, appear behind you on the tarmac.

He steps towards you, looking deep into your eyes, “I thought you said larger objects were hard for you?”

You smiled at him bashfully, “I guess this time it was worth the risk.”

Before he could reply, he heard Tony in his suit again. “Kid, I need you inside!”

Apologetically sighing at you, he latched onto the airport hangar and swung himself inside, stopping Bucky and Wilson, before moving back outside to help Tony attempt to subdue Ant-Man, who had now grown to enormous proportions.

Finally finding his groove, Tony praised Peter for his fighting spirit, but at the most crucial moment, Peter distinctly heard a yell coming from the tarmac. It was Captain America attempting to warn you about Ant-Man’s enormous shoe that was seconds from crushing you, but you were too busy disorienting Natasha to hear him.

Peter had a split-second decision to make. The Captain was desperately sprinting towards you, but he wouldn’t make it in time. Similarly, Tony couldn’t hold off Ant-Man on his own, and they really needed to stop him. Staring into the face of the man who’s opinion mattered most in the world to him, Peter muttered an apologetic, “I’m sorry, Mr Stark” before swinging himself in record speed, clutching your body to his as he swung you out of harm’s way just in time, the two of you rolling to a stop further along the tarmac.

The fight seemed to stop in an instant, each Avenger in shock at the sight of their two youngest and most recent recruits in a dizzy haze, milliseconds away from tragedy. Tony and Captain America stopped everything, rushing to your sides. Peter looked down at you, desperately, shaking you as your eyes fluttered open and shut. “y/n? oh God, please tell me you’re okay. Hey, look at me.”

Peter rolled off you as you moved to sit up, glancing around you as the Captain reached your side and cradled you. He looked up at Tony, “I hate to say it Tony, but you were right. This is foolish. We need supervision, I was an idiot for bringing y/n into this without proper training. I know we never got a practice run but, for God’s sake, they’re kids Tony. What was I thinking?”

Tony shook his head. “You were thinking that every kid, especially those as brave as these two, deserve the chance to do what they were born to do.”

He turned to Peter, with a hand on his shoulder. “I’m so proud of you, kid. You know so much more than me, and you’re still a teenager. Imagine what you’ll do for this world as you get to my ripe old age.”

Peter chuckled before turning back to you solemnly, he looked at the Captain for permission before offering you a gentle hand to lift you up. “Thank you for trusting me.”

You smiled, “Thanks for having my back.”

…

A week later and Peter was standing in Tony’s office, having been summoned. He was pacing back and forth because, of course, Tony had decided to go and get some water for the two of them, leaving an anxious Peter to overthink whether Tony’s battle panic had worn off and he was about to get chastised for sacrificing the mission for a girl.

Rather, when Tony re-appeared with water and snacks for the two of them, he tried a different tact. “So, Baby America, hey?”

Had he not been so shocked, Peter would have absolutely lost it at the sight of Tony Stark - genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist, and above all, his mentor - wiggling his eyebrows excitedly like a schoolboy.  

Instead, Peter, quite embarrassingly, choked on his water, spluttering onto the table before him.

Tony looked at him with an eyebrow raised. “Gross.”

Peter wiped his mouth, “Oh God, I’m so sorry Mr Stark!”

“Never change, kid.” Chuckling, Tony pat his protégé’s shoulder affectionately. “But seriously, you’ve got the hots for her, right?”

Peter shook his head in disbelief, “Uh, yeah? I do?- I mean, she’s just amazing and honestly really inspiring, I mean, she literally saves lives every day, and she’s beautiful, and she actually laughs at my jokes! Can you believe that? and-”

Smiling fondly at the rambling, lovestruck teenager, Tony couldn’t help but interrupt. “-And so you’re going to tell her all this right?”

Peter’s eyes widened in mortification. “Oh God no! I’m lucky she even wants to spend time talking with me, I’m not going to ruin it by telling her that she’s the most beautiful girl on the planet.”

At that, Tony leaned towards Peter. Peter matched him, leaning forward in confusion. “Uh, kid? I think you just did.”

Slowly turning around as he did that night on the rooftop with you, Peter was met with your gorgeous face once more. Only, this time, the furious blush was for him, and him alone.

As you looked up and met his gaze, you offered him a small, awkward wave, and he was sure that you were meant for each other. He stood up and walked over to you, raising a nervous hand to his neck and rubbing gently - by now an endearing habit of his. “Uh, hi. I’m assuming you heard all that.”

You giggled, shuffling your feet nervously as you looked up at him, “Sure did.”

He grimaced, “Well, that’s embarrassing.”

You smiled warmly, “I think it’s sweet.”

His eyes widened in shock. “R-really?”

“In fact, I think you’re sweet, and I’d kinda like to test that theory, if that’s okay with you?”

He looked down at you, eyebrows furrowed as his brain tried to connect the dots. Instead, he noticed you leaning in and realised what was happening just in time to process your soft lips on his. He closed his eyes, gently cupping your face with his hand as he returned the kiss.

When he opened his eyes, he felt a cool breeze, and realised that you’d teleported the two of you, locked in a kiss, back to the very same rooftop you’d first officially met. He looked at you with such longing as he whispered against your lips, “God, please be mine.”

You smiled at him, eyes crinkling in the corners as you whispered back. “Always.”

He let himself blink, knowing that you weren’t going anywhere.

OMG yes part 2!!!!!! THIS IS A MASTERPIECE

Arranged Marriage | T.H

Pairings: Mob!Tom x reader

Warnings: mentions of sex

Summary: reader who is the daughter to the most notorious mob boss in London is forced to marry mob boss Tom

A/N: part 2?? Let me know!

Standing in front of the large full length mirror, you glance at yourself in the reflection while your mother hurried around you, arranging the long train of your long dress and tightening the straps on your shoulders. A veil was perched on top of your curls, a golden tiara encrusted with white diamonds kept it pinned into place. Your mother stole a quick glance at your face in the mirror, and instantly stopped fussing over you to place a reassuring hand on your shoulder.

“Sweetheart,” she began, sympathy evident in her tone as she watched a single tear slide down your cheek. “You know your father wouldn’t of arranged this marriage if he didn’t think it was the right thing to do.” Grabbing a tissue from the dresser, she gently dabbed at your tear stained face, careful not to smudge your makeup.

“How is signing your only daughter over to a mobster without her knowledge the right thing to do, mum?” That heartbreaking question was the first time you spoke all morning since the night before, when your father announced the news for your marriage to Tom Holland to be finalised immediately. Your family have been at odds with his family for generations dating back to the 1800’s, your father would always say that no amount of money offered could settle the bad blood your family had shared with ‘that pack of heathens’, as he liked to call them. For no cost could ever be agreed upon for the trust and respect that goes into doing business with such people. Until one afternoon, when an offer proposed by a frail, dying Don Holland presented itself by a telegram message written from his deathbed as he settled the last of his affairs. That offer being you.

“I wasn’t entirely supportive of the arrangement too, but as you know dear, your father is not one to negotiate such matters with. I think it would be good for all as time goes on.” Your mother said as she grabbed your hand and gave it a light squeeze in reassurance. Although this plan didn’t lie in the hands of your mother, you did feel some resentment for both parents. “It’ll be good for his business, not for his daughter.” you sighed as you turned to walk away from your mother to sit on the end of your bed. “I always dreamed of marrying someone I loved…” You thought to yourself as your mind drifted off to the thought of Harrison, the handsome young butler who has been the reason for your bed remaining vacant and unoccupied as of late, for lonely nights alone had lead you into the comforting arms of the blue eyed lad, who resided in a single bed dormitory located at the third wing of the mansion where your grandfather had an old wine cellar renovated into servant quarters many years ago.

“You haven’t even met Thomas yet. I heard he is a real gentleman, and very charming.” Your mother replied, casting a playful wink at you as she started to adjust the tiara in your hair. You rolled your eyes and swatted her hand away from you as you stood up. It wasn’t until you smoothed your sweaty palms over your lace dress that you had noticed the hundreds and thousands of tiny pearls woven into the details of the dress. The designer was a mystery to you as your mother had it flown from Paris early this morning, but nether the less, it was gorgeous.

A light tap on your bedroom door awoke you from your daze. Walking across your bedroom, you opened the heavy door where your father’s assistant stood on the other side, a small delicate white box held in his hand immediately gaining your attention.

“Good morning Miss Y/N,” the assistant who’s name you can never remember said. “I have a delivery from Mr Holland.” Confused, you hastily grasped the box from the man and carried it to your large four poster bed, eagerly pulling and untangling the fine pink silk ribbon that adorned the otherwise boring, plain white box. Your mother hurried to your side as you lifted the lid, curiosity getting the better of you both as you were both stunned by what was inside. A gorgeous diamond necklace, like nothing you had seen before was sitting before you. Reflecting the light of the room from the many stones that coated it glimmered from each and every angle. A note was tucked in behind it that read:

“For my beautiful bride. With love, T.H”

It's "rebound" by @peterparkouryo !!!!

Does anyone hace the name of a fanfic about peter parker dating reader but then he confesses he is in love with MJ and breaks up with reader on her birthday

OMG I LOVED THIS 💖💖💖

Dear Mr. Right

Peter Parker x Fem!Reader

Summary: During the week leading up to valentine’s day you begin to receive love letters from an anonymous writer. For some weird reason, the handwriting looks exactly like your new English partner’s: Peter Parker.

WC: 4.2k

TW: Peter being an idiot with a crush, reader who hates Valentine’s day, tooth-rotting fluff that chipped away at my lonely soul. Mentions of anxiety (lip biting, bouncing leg up and down to relieve stress)

AN: happy valentines day!! And ignore my mistakes </3

You do not have permission to re-post my work anywhere. It’s my shit, don’t steal it.

Dear Y/n,

Roses are red We’re told that violets are blue I can’t admit my feelings But please know they’re true

February approaches And the sun still shines Though not as bright as you Would you ever think to be mine?

I’ll watch from afar Eternally gazing at you If the world contains any mercy Maybe you’ll feel the same too

I’m no savior I’m certainly no knight I’m a horrible poet But maybe I’m your Mr. Right

- Your secret admirer

Keep reading

🔥🔥🔥😍😍😍

Peter's maid. (Peter Parker x reader)

Summary: Tony hires a new maid that is assigned to Peter's Room.

Mature content 18+, language, maid kink.

Masterlist

You were desperate for a job. Times were tough for your family right now, and there wasn’t much money to spare. You tried keeping positive but it was hard at times. Especially when the new Animal Crossing game came out.

As an inexperienced eighteen year old, you had no idea where to start. All you knew was you wanted to avoid customer service and cleaning.

Until you saw Tony Stark’s advertisement.

In your defense you thought you were signing up for a paid internship, but when meeting his associate the whole dynamic changed. You met with an older man who was quite stoic. He asked you a bunch of questions and even made you provide several background checks. On the third meeting, he looked over his files once more. “Okay.” He mumbled. “You will be expecting a call in the next three to five business days for the maid position. Thank you for coming in.” He sighed.

Your eyes shot up in pure shock. This grumpy old shit must have confused your application with someone else’s. “Thank you.” You politely said not wanting to confront him. You left the office quietly mentally beating yourself up for their mistake. You decided on just trying your luck somewhere else.

As you napped peacefully after school, eyes slowly shutting as you relaxed more and more, your phone went absolutely bananas. “Shit!” You groaned. You lazily sat back up and turned on your phone, messages from your friends kept popping up along with a missed call from an unrecognized number. You saw a voicemail notification pop up right above it. You rolled your eyes and clicked on the notification.

“Hello, this is Stark Industries calling you back about your job application, Y/n L/n? We would love to have you at our office again at, 5pm on Tuesday. Please come prepared for your first day. If you are not present on the property we will give your spot to someone else. Thank you.”

“Oh gosh…” you whispered to yourself. “It couldn’t hurt to check it out right? Maybe I can just explain to them their mixup and maybe then I could be recommended for an internship.”

••••

“So what do you think?”

“Well girl. I think you should like totally go for it.” One of your best friends, Lily said. She ruffled her luscious, long blonde locks.

“You’d be stupid not to!” Your other best friend, Ryan, scolded you.

“What about the whole maid thing?”

“Honey, listen. It’s Stark Industries. Tony Stark is like the richest man alive! He’s a total dilf too! If you’re not gonna take it I’m gonna buy a wig and pretend to be you.” Ryan playfully rolled his eyes. “And if that fails, just tell him you’re the prettiest girl at Midtown high according to the yearbook.”

“When all else fails just use high school popularity!” Lily deadpanned.

You rolled your eyes at Lily and Ryan’s slight teasing but decided it wouldn’t hurt to go. It was a shit load of money after all.

The 6th period bell rang and the three of you grabbed your backpacks and started heading out of the cafeteria. “I’ll see you lovely ladies later, I’m off to show my entire drama class how much more talented I am than everyone else.” Ryan grinned.

“Bye Ry.” Lily and you both sung mockingly.

“What’s your 6th period again this semester? I’m having trouble remembering all of the new changes. I freaking hate the beginning of January.”

“Yeah me too, I’m still writing 2021 on all of my papers.” You laughed. “I have Mrs. Warren now. I love not having her for 8th period, she made the last period of the day drag out sooo long.”

“Why is it better during 6th then?” Lily said as you both began your way up the staircase.

“Because then 7th and 8th I have art and then French so I can relax and not have to be either completely stressed out or completely zoned out. Her class makes me feel like my brain is on fire.”

Lily giggled. “I’m glad then. Hey! Since you have it before me now, can you take pictures of the answer keys now for me?” She pleaded.

“Lily…” You mocked.

“Pleeease! Just one quickie picture when you get the answer keys, especially next Friday! I have no idea what is happening in class right now. I don't know how I’ll be prepared. If you get caught just blame it on me! They can’t expel us, we're in the popular group.” She teased.

“You’re right. “ You shook your head. “Plus you’re dating Flash!” You gasped. “She’ll totally let us get away with it if it comes down to that.” You paused in front of Mrs. Warren’s class.

“I know we’re joking, but can you name one time anyone in our group has gotten like an actual punishment for something they did. They literally like worship us here.”

You sighed. “As much as I hate to say it, yeah. Did you see that Asher only got one detention for giving some kid a wedgie up to his neck?”

“Oh yeah I did!” Lily clicked her tongue. “That’s awful actually.”

“Yeah, no one deserves that. I feel pretty bad about it, I have gym with that guy and he still has marks from the underwear being wrapped around his neck. I also think we as a society should collectively retire the word ``wedgie.”

“Yeah. It’s a really, really gross word.” Lily snorted. “Bitch, I have to go to class. Text me okay?”

“Of course.” You smiled sweetly as you said your temporary farewells.

Upon walking into your class, you saw him. Peter Benjamin Parker. You had always been slightly envious of Peter Parker. Sure, you were popular, breathtakingly gorgeous yet humble, funny, had lots of genuine friends, a nice family, yet the fact that he was always one step ahead of you pissed you off. In middle school, when you first met Peter, you had practically every class with him. Despite you both only having said a few sentences out of all the years you had known each other, you were competitors, in your mind at least. You were always second to Peter in academics. No matter how hard you tried, you could never compare. He always came out on top.

You didn’t hate the guy, hell you didn’t even dislike him. You didn't even know him! You just envied him.

“Hi, Y/n.” Mrs. Warren warmly greeted. “Welcome to 6th period! We tend to go a little faster than in 8th period, but don’t sweat it. I know you can handle it. Take a seat next to Peter, right in front of Flash.” She pointed, nearly causing you to faint. Your legs felt like complete jelly as you made forced eye contact with Peter.

Peter, on the other hand, felt similarly. Despite sitting on the stool, his kneecaps immediately turned into jelly, his cheeks began to blush faint pink and he could feel his heart beating more rapidly. The girl he had been crushing on since middle school was now coming over to sit next to him.

“Hi.” You shyly smiled. “I’m supposed to sit next to you. Could you move a little bit over?”

“Y-Yeah! Of course…” Peter stammered, almost falling out of his seat in the process. You smiled again at him which caused him to turn his head upon seeing your pretty smile. You noticed his awkwardness and smiled again to yourself. You had always found him pretty cute, and seeing him this close up, you realized he was really cute.

You whipped out your phone and turned down your brightness just enough so you, and only you could see your screen. You clicked on the groupchat with Lily and Ryan.

‘Guess who I’m sitting with’

‘Don’t tell me that loser Ken who farts all the time. I had to sit next to that creature for an hour before I demanded a seat change.’ Ryan sent.

‘Guess again.’

‘Brad Hottie Davis?? He’s so into you.’ Lily texted back.

‘Not my type I’m def not into Brad. It’s Peter Parker.’

‘Who?’

‘Who?’

‘I’ll text you guys l8ter. Class is starting.’

••••

The day had gone by slowly and you could feel your head begin to throb as you made your way back to the Stark building. You had to go through heaps of security before entering the same lobby you once were in. A man who you had not recognized stood before you, he gazed upon you just as stoic as the last man who previously interviewed you.

“Hi, Y/n L/n?” He asked.

“Yep, that’s me.” you stammered.

“I’m Mr. Hogan.” He greeted. “So, you were an excellent candidate and Mr. Stark loved your application. Although I was quite surprised someone as qualified as you would apply for a maid job.” he mumbled.

You opened your mouth to speak but your words wouldn’t form.

“Uh okay, take the elevator up to the third floor, check in at the maid station, they will supply you with your uniform and assign your room number.” Happy pulled his phone back out and continued on with a phone call leaving you there.

You had absolutely no idea how to even be a maid, hell you didn’t even know how to clean properly. You had the choice to run out right now. Yet, if you had stayed at this job until payday, you would definitely have enough money to buy Animal Crossing and help out your parents a bit.

••••

In the changing rooms, you opened the box and feasted your eyes on the Stark maid uniform. You pulled it out to see it more closely, not believing your eyes. The top part of the skimpy black dress had a perky white collar, with a cute black bowtie. The bottom half of the dress had a white apron that tied around the waist which had frilly ends. The skirt fluffed out a bit, which had frilly ends as well. You then saw white fishnet stockings that barely reached past your knees. Along with black Mary Jane’s with a slight heel. You shivered upon seeing the uniform in its entirety. You took a deep breath and slipped on the outfit and shoes. It was definitely short, and showcased your legs. You played with your bowtie for a few seconds before turning around. Your butt just barely getting full coverage from the dress. You looked down at the card placed in the box with your uniform and shoes. You were assigned to room 105.

“Am I really gonna fucking do this?” You sighed and looked at yourself in the mirror, almost admiring yourself.

••••

You walked into room 105 and was hit by the stench of Axe body spray, practically burning your nostril hairs off. You were disgusted by the mess. Clothes were thrown everywhere on the floor, the bookshelf was messy and each book was just thrown, the bedside drawer was messy as well with organized clutter and boxes were out just full of stuff waiting to be put away. Not to mention random legos just popping up all throughout the room. “Holy shit!” you exclaimed.

You brought all of the cleaning supplies into the room with you and shut the door behind yourself. Your hands become sweaty just thinking about cleaning this disgusting mess. You had no idea how you were going to pull this off.

As you got started, you noticed the room wasn’t dirty which was a step up. It was just massively unorganized. You put in your earbuds and began to clean. You threw most of the clothes on the floor into the hamper, you hung up the ones on the bed, and gaming chair in the closet, you picked up the tiny lego pieces and set them in the corner of the room and began organizing the bookshelf. You admired the books that sat messy on the shelf, physics books, Star Wars books, chemistry books, and even some comic books. You giggled to yourself as you looked through one of the comic books.

Peter stood on the windowsill and unlatched the lock, he pushed the window upwards and panicked seeing another individual in his bedroom. He sneakily jumped on the ceiling and watched you organize his belongings. You turned around to pick up a small feather duster. He audibly gasped upon seeing you.

His five year crush was now in a sexy maid uniform dusting his book shelf. Peter might have been upside down but that didn’t stop him from taking in every inch of you. He began to feel himself go weaker upon gazing at you and licked his lips as his eyes fell to your cleavage. Last fall when Peter had been in a hotel in Switzerland, he had ordered some porn that showcased a girl in a sexy maid uniform, although she couldn’t compare to you he realized he had some sort of kink for it. That whole week in Switzerland, after fighting and going on missions with the avengers he would masturbate to soothe himself at night.

After organizing the bookshelf you decided to take a break and flopped down on the twin bed. You placed your earbuds away and rested your head on the pillows. You shut your eyes softly and sighed.

“Hey, prettygirl.” Peter jumped down from the ceiling still in suit.

You jumped upon hearing this familiar voice and became even more startled as you fluttered your eyes open to see Spiderman standing above you.

“H-Hi!” You squeaked in terror. Peter could see you tense up and hear your heartbeat increasingly rapidly.

“Oh! Please don’t be scared!” His voice instantly softened. “I’m not gonna hurt you! You see, this is my room.” he said sheepishly.

You looked down and noticed his growing bulge in his pants. Your cheeks instantly flushed again.

Peter noticed the look on your face. “I’m so sorry- do you want me to wait outside for a few minutes?”

“O-Oh it’s okay! I’m just finishing up.” You stammered. You looked up at him and met his eyes. “You just kinda remind me of someone.”

“Who?” the eyes of his mask narrowed.

“What?”

“W-Who?”

“You just sound like this guy I’ve always kinda had a thing for.” Unsure of why you blurted this out to him.

Peter’s heart instantly dropped as he processed this sentence. He stood silent for a minute. “Take off my mask.”

“What?” you exclaimed.

“Take it off…Please.”

Your hands shook as you jumped up from the bed obeying him. He grabbed your wrists and rubbed your arms gently before sliding you even closer to him. Your perfectly manicured hands gently peeled off the mask and before you know it you saw Peter Parker’s deep brown eyes staring back at yours. He looked away slightly as he gave you a toothy grin.

You looked at him in utter shock, searching for anything, anything! To say.

“I really envy you, you know?”

“W-What?” Peter stuttered.

“I’m jealous. I’m jealous of how smart you are. Although, most of all I admire how smart you are. My admiration for you always outweighed my jealousy.”

He looked back at you in pure surprise.

“You know, after all this time. I just realized how much I like you.” You gushed. You wrapped your fingers on his shoulders and pulled him even closer to you.

Peter obeyed and was inches away from your face. Your cheeks blushed being so close to him. “O-Oh!” You flushed. “You can’t tell anyone.” You took a few steps back.

“About?“ Peter still on ecstasy from being so close to you.

You furrowed your eyebrows and tugged on the hem of your skirt. “This!”

Peter examined you for a minute, loving every single second of this. “Well you can’t tell anyone about this!” He mocked you and tugged gently on his suit.

“Oh y-yeah, I still haven’t quite processed you being Spider-Man yet.”

“Well I haven’t quite processed you being a maid yet.”

You blushed again at his words. “I-I really need the money.”

“I respect that really!” Peter rubbed the back on the neck. “It doesn’t look very professional though?”

“It’s the required uniform Tony gives to all the maids.” You explained.

“Oh!” He clicked his tongue. “Now thaaat makes sense.”

You nodded in embarrassment.

“Okay, uh! Well think about it this way. No one will see you like this except me! Because you clean my room-“ he trailed off realizing. You now clean his room. He swallowed slowly.

“Y-Yeah.” You looked down shuffling your feet.

“On one condition.” Peter’s voice cracked.

“Which is?”

“Twirl for me in that sexy maid uniform.”

You smirked at this reply. “I’ll do you one better.”

His eyes widened at your bold statement.

“How about a lap dance?” You winked.

I thought about that too!!!!!! 💖💖💖

Just a thought but Peter Parker dating Kingpin's daughter

How To Finally Shift If You’ve Been Trying For 2+ Years

⚠️ Little warning before we begin: don’t get scared off! I might sound a little negative at first, but that’s not the point of this post. My goal is for you to reach the end of this and think “Oh, I’m definitely going to shift to my DR now!”

Having said that:

If you’ve been on your shifting journey for two or more years, doing methods, reprogramming your mind, consuming advice, maintaining a mental diet, manifesting, forcing assumptions, trying to create assumptions, etc, etc⏤and you still haven’t shifted your awareness to your DR, maybe it’s time to stop trying to make yourself shift.

Stop trying to shift.

Stop trying to trigger a shift.

Maybe the thing you need at this point in your journey is to stop trying to make yourself shift.

And I’ll explain why by asking you a question:

In these two, three, four, however many years of effort, don’t you think you would have shifted by now?

Think about it. You’ve oversaturated your mind with the intention to shift. You do all your methods correctly. You try to convince yourself that you're already in your DR. You feel symptoms. Sometimes you even "mini shift." And yet… you're still here. Doing the same things. Searching for advice that leads you right back to doing the same thing:

Trying to shift. Trying to trigger a shift. Trying to shift your awareness.

Trying.

Trying confidently.

Trying hopelessly.

Trying angrily.

…Trying.

If you were going to shift by inducing a shift, triggering a shift, or successfully shifting with a method, it would have happened by now.

“But Clover, I still have a lot of soul-searching and work to do! I just need to put in more effort!”

Awesome! Then click away, because this advice isn’t for you. I’m not talking to you.

I’m talking to the person who is tired. Who is drained. Who, despite applying all the sage advice on the internet, is just burnt out from the process of shifting.

And if that sounds like you, let me repeat: Maybe you need to stop actively trying to shift.

Your work is done. And that’s a good thing.

You’ve spent years ingraining the idea of shifting into your subconscious. You’ve impressed the intention to shift so deeply that it’s already there. Congratulations! You did all the mental work. It’s done.

Your DR is already yours. You already have the ability to shift.

So stop trying to trigger it. Stop trying to make yourself shift.

Let go of the “making yourself shift” process.

“Oh my god, she’s going to tell me to take a break.”

LMAO you thought.

Yes, breaks are excellent. They help reset and recharge your mindset. I always encourage taking breaks if you need them. But let’s be honest. Sometimes, even the thought of taking a break feels just as mentally exhausting as staying on your shifting journey.

“Oh no, she’s going to tell me to do nothing at all.”

Once again, you thought.

Instead, you’re going to capitalize on the fact that you’ve already done all this work. The intention to shift is always, always, always in your mind. Your subconscious knows you want to shift. Just like it knows how to shift your awareness.

So, the next time you lay down to do your shifting process...

Instead of trying to shift…

Instead of trying to induce a shift, induce the void, or force an outcome…

Give yourself exactly what you want.

Give yourself the feeling of being in your DR.

Drop the conscious, active intention to shift because your subconscious already has it covered. You don’t need to keep hammering it in. Instead, focus on inducing the emotions you would feel if you were in your DR.

Imagine waking up in your DR. Imagine being there. Imagine spending time with your DR friends, your S/O, whatever makes you happiest. Personally, I lean toward wake-up scenarios. You can listen to music, meditate, visualize, even do a shifting method if you enjoy it—but instead of doing it with the intention to shift, you’re doing it just to give your body and mind the feeling of being there. The happiness, the calm, the excitement, whatever it is for you.

This does not mean you’re lying there thinking, “Okay, this is going to make me shift.”

No. No, no, no, no, no.

Drop the idea of shifting entirely. That process is done.

And I’ll say it one more time:

If you were going to shift by inducing a shift, making yourself shift, or triggering a shift, it would have happened already.

So let it go. Drop it.

Induce the emotions of being in your DR, and then let go. Once you do that, go to sleep. Or go about your day. That’s it.

So why does this actually make you shift?

Because feeling is the language of the subconscious.

Think about it: The moments in your life that shaped you the most weren’t just things you thought. They were things you felt deeply. Joy, fear, excitement, grief. Emotions imprint on the subconscious. That’s why certain smells, songs, or places instantly bring back vivid memories. Because your subconscious records experiences based on emotions, not logic.

So when you stop trying to shift and instead just focus on feeling like you’re in your DR, your subconscious responds by aligning your awareness to match that emotional state.

Because to the subconscious, there’s no difference between imagination and reality. When you visualize something vividly enough, your brain fires the same neurons as if you were actually experiencing it. Athletes use this trick to enhance performance. Musicians use it to refine their skills. And guess what? It works for shifting too.

When you let go of the effort and just immerse yourself in the emotions of already being there, you bypass the resistance that trying creates.

And that’s when the shift happens.

It happens because you stopped forcing it.

It happens because your subconscious already knows how to shift, you just needed to get out of its way.

So, again, drop the struggle. Drop the effort. Stop trying to shift.

The more precise or perfect you want the shift to be, the more pressure you put on yourself. Your brain rebels against that because rigid control drains energy.

Remember this:

High Emotion + Low Attachment = Flow.

When you feel something strongly but aren’t clinging to the result, your subconscious has room to act. This is why sometimes, when you care less or focus on something in a passing, emotional way, it manifests easily.

This is why people can give up on shifting entirely and shift. This is why people let go of the need to shift and shift. This is why you shift without meaning to.

You: “No, I can’t do this! I need to keep trying to shift or else my subconscious will think I don’t want to shift anymore!”

Me:

*As always, take what resonates, discard what doesn’t, because we’re all different people who need to hear different things :)

Awww this was too cute!!!!

scripts thrown into the fire

peter parker x reader

summary: you and peter make a bet before spending seven minutes in a closet before new year hits, and he ends up telling you what he feels

word count: 3,117

warnings: another enemies to lovers, peter being a huge dick, mentions of gross alcohol, fluff and slight angst

a/n: nothing. i just really really liked this :)

MASTERLIST

༻✦༺ . ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ . ༻✧༺

“Fuck Peter Parker.”

MJ looked at you, eyes widening at your vulgarity. “Fuck him? Or… fuck him?”

You glared at her. “You know what I mean.”

She scoffed, lips turning into a frivolous smile. “Trust me, I don’t. You could mean – fuck Peter Parker, he’s a douchebag – or – I would like to fuck Peter Parker.”

You rubbed your temples, closing your eyes. You were already having a headache from the absolutely blinding lights, and MJ’s question made your head hurt even more. “Michelle, I hate him. I despise him.”

“Do you really hate him? Or do you just hate him because you’re afraid of how much you love him?”

With your jaw slacking the slightest, you scoffed in offense. “I don’t love him! And if I did, it wouldn’t be love, it would probably be infatuation.”

“So you admit it! You like him!”

“I said ‘if I did’,”

“Same thing.”

“No- no it isn’t!”

She’d caught you off guard. MJ smirked, placing the cup back between her lips.

You never liked Peter Parker. You didn’t know what it was that just ticked you off – that struck your nerves. Maybe it was because he did nothing but strut down the hallways with that smug look on his face knowing he was the smartest, or that he dated the hottest girls or that everyone appreciated who he was.

You didn’t know when you started hating him because you felt that way for years. But you knew why you hated him.

You hated him and that was it. Your new normal.

MJ disappeared, excused herself and got inside the bathroom beside her. You didn’t know what to do next, so your legs mindlessly brought you to the crowded kitchen, grabbing another slice of pizza.

“Is it just me or something smells rotten?”

His voice, like a deceitful man, rang around your ears. You felt like you were about to explode, the blood inside you boiling as he appeared beside you like a Devil in disguise. Rolling your eyes, you sucked your cheeks in before giving him a forced smile.

“Ah, so you are a dog. Smelling things from afar and whatnot.”

“Do you ever shower? Or is that just the grease from the kitchen I smell?”

“Did it ever occur to you that the grease you’re smelling is from your shirt?”

“What grease?”

Your fingers, previously holding your pizza, dragged itself on the side of his shirt. Peter yelped, eyes widening when you touched him. You smiled when you spotted the imprint of your fingers that he was now wiping with a towel. “Thanks for the tissue.”

Still rubbing the spot, he sneered at you. “You’re disgusting.”

“Learned from the best.”

“Who? The blonde senior you slept with? Or the guy with the mullet who sells beer at the store near campus?”

Your eyes widened, but not in offense (if you were being honest, you would be offended if it were MJ or any other friend, but it was kind of shocking when Peter said it). “How’d you know about that mullet guy?”

“I have my ways,” he shrugged, taking a sip from the cup in his hand. “Honestly, don’t you have to look for something interesting to do?”

“Oh, like being Spider-Man is interesting?” You raised a brow, taking a bite from your pizza despite losing your appetite the second he came. “You’re a new type of stupid.”

His head tilted sideways, placing his elbow on the kitchen counter to look at you. Peter smiled, with a hint of nervosity, and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. He contemplated on saying that no, being Spider-Man is fun. But he remembered that he was still denying the truth to you, and he wasn’t about to prove you right. “For the last time, sweetheart, I’m not Spider-Man.”

You chewed on your pizza, looking at him. “You wanna bet?”

Peter continued to stare into your eyes, like it didn’t spend half of his life burning him alive. But he didn’t care – he liked the burn. He liked anything your eyes gave him, threw at him, said to him. If it meant getting your attention, he’d endure that imaginative fire scalding his skin.

“Sure,” he whispered, finger dragging along the skin of your neck, pushing the hair away. “If you have me saying a secret of mine by midnight, I’ll tell you the truth and everything that comes with it.”

You raised your eyebrow. “And if I don’t?”

He smiled. “I get to kiss you.”

Your mouth parted.

You wondered if the iceberg you created between the two of you had melted from the heat of the fire your eyes lit on his body; if it melted and created a puddle beneath you so you’d blunder in your thoughts.

Peter Parker wanted to kiss you.

No, he doesn’t. He’s a cocky bitch with an ego as big as his ears.

Peter Parker created a game in his masquerade; He was so foolishly cynical in himself that he’d end up unmasking in his own play. He knew that, and you might have known that too but at that moment you didn’t, because all you could think about was the brevity of your breath the second you imagined his lips on yours during your demise.

You wanted to back down, maybe even tell him he can go fuck himself. But you weren’t like that – you wanted to fight a war he’d most definitely lose in. So that he’d be the one looking up at you, calling you his queen, and you'd be lost in your own pious ataraxis.

It was a quintessentially monarchical thought, but why not.

“Deal.”

Literally just made a deal with the devil. Kind of fucking nervous.

You offered your hand for him to shake, but instead he placed his soft lips on the skin of your knuckles, remaining eye-contact. “Can’t wait to kiss you, pretty girl.”

Peter smirked when your small smile disappeared. You fought the urge to place both your hands on his face and slam his head on the counter, breaking his nose. Instead, you gathered up the courage to smile again, tilting your head.

“And I can’t wait to tell everyone that you’re Spider-Man,” maybe you were drunk, maybe you weren’t, but you didn’t mean that. You knew that if he were ever to tell you that he was Spider-Man, you wouldn’t tell anyone. But you enjoyed seeing him get anxious and feel the sweat in his hands knowing you caught him off guard.

You pat his cheek before walking away.

-

“Flash, I’m not your mom. Stop begging me for attention.”

Peter almost laughed when he heard you say that, but his eyes narrowed at your failed attempt to shove Flash’s arm off your shoulders. “That was mean,” Flash said, pouting. “Just join us, (y/n)!”

The drink in his hand was stagnant now. Peter grimaced at the bland taste, throwing the substance into the sink. But he didn’t know which grossed him more: his drink that he was sure had a hotdog thrown into before he took it, or that Flash was weirdly holding you in his arms, pulling you into the living room, and that you were letting him touch you like that.

“Dude,” Ned hissed in his ear for the third time, narrowing his eyes. “The longer you stare at them, the more you’re being obvious.”

Peter frowned, standing straighter. He wanted to be oblivious (“what do you mean obvious ?”) but he figured Ned would have just told him what he didn’t want to hear at the moment. “S-sorry.”

“C’mon man, just talk to her.” Ned pushed his shoulder. “There’s no harm in telling her the truth. Well, the Spider-Man one, maybe. But that you like her? What’s the worst that could come?”

“Rejection?”

“…right…”

He shook his head. He didn’t know why he made that bet in the first place. Peter was in the spur of the moment; he wasn’t thinking straight, and he blamed it on the alcohol. But who was he kidding? He wasn’t even at least half dunk.

He blamed it on you. Not because you probably knew that he was Spider-Man, but because you had the most exquisite and alluring eyes he’s ever seen that he felt like he had just gotten hypnotized into making the bet – a bet he knew he’d renounce his heart in.

Peter sometimes didn’t enjoy what your eyes did to him. Whether it was roasting him alive, or making him helpless in the knees; your eyes always made him anxious, and quite often, had him making stupid decisions. But he liked it when you looked at him, regardless of what your eyes currently signified.

He liked it so much that he couldn’t help but stare directly into your eyes that were glaring at him from across the room drunkenly. It tore his concentration away from Flash, who still stood beside you.

“Hey,” Ned nudged him. “They’re playing Seven Minutes in Heaven in the living room. Come on.”

He dragged his arm before Peter could protest. He sat opposite from you, cautiously eyeing the bottle in the middle of the carpet as people gathered around him.

11:52

Peter could feel his skin sweat from the watch wrapped around his wrist. Flash sat beside you, hand on the bottle.

“This game is for middle schoolers,” he heard you mutter underneath your breath. Flash frowned, fingers playing with the glass.

“Didn’t you suggest this?” he said softly, looking at you.

“What? No, Cindy suggested it.”

“Then why’d you agree with her?”

“Because – just spin the fucking bottle and let’s get this over with.”

He shrugged, followed by a wry chuckle as his wrist twisted and the bottle spun. Peter didn’t know why, but his senses heightened in anticipation, watching as the glass spun unevenly against the carpet.

When it slowed and landed on him, his eyes immediately darted to yours.

You weren’t looking at him.

“Parker!” Flash bellowed. “Get in the fucking closet!”

Peter’s eyes widened, moving backwards. “What? Why? I don’t want to go in there.”

He stood up nonetheless. Peter didn't know why, but he felt himself blush when Flash had grabbed your arm and hauled you up for you to stand, pushing you towards the closet.

“Hey, what the fuck?” you hissed, rubbing your shoulder as you glared at Flash. “I do not consent-”

“Blah blah,” he cut you off. “You suggested the game, you go in first.”

“But- Cindy suggested it!”

Cindy looked at Flash in faux-innocence, shrugging. “No, I didn’t. You did. Right, Flash?”

You gasped, tugging on your arm but no matter how much you tugged, Flash kept his grip on you. “Stop gaslighting me!”

Peter was roughly forced into the closet. He didn’t know why he let himself be pushed like that. He could have effortlessly opposed back, but maybe the idea of you being stuck with him in a small expanse made his body unexpectedly go limp and he decided not to fight back.

You fought back, however. Something about being stuck in a room with the person you loathed the most made you want to hurl, albeit it was a way for you to have an opportunity to win the bet. You knew you had him encased around your finger; you’ve seen the way he looks at you and you knew what your stare does to him. It made you feel emphatic, no doubt, and you knew you could easily make him fold but you just couldn’t stand being in a small room with him.

It had gotten to a point where Flash had to wrap his arms around you and carry you inside while Peter stood watching like a fucking idiot.

Flash closed the door, and neither of you heard the sound of the lock snapping.

You glared at Peter. It became a habit - glaring at him. And even though he enjoyed your murderous gaze, it almost always caught him off-guard. “I fucking hate you.”

“I’m honored,” he leaned closer, bending slightly so his eyes met yours directly, “to be fucking hated by you.”

11:53 was on Peter’s watch, signifying that you’ve only been with him for a minute. It felt ironic, really, that he was with you six minutes before New Year inside a closet - it felt ironic because you’re supposed to spend it with your family but instead here he was, in a closet with you.

He felt his chest compress when he recognised how tight both of you were. The tips of your shoes abutted, and he could feel the faint touch of your chest against his. You were both so close but Peter felt as if you were far away from him - incapable for him to touch; to sense.

Peter frowned when you shifted uncomfortably and pushed yourself off the wall, not even caring that your forehead now touched the fabric of his shirt. Your eyes warily darted on each corner of the room, and he could sense how your heart beat rose each look you took.

“Are you alright?” he asked genuinely. “Are you claustrophobic?”

You looked at him, the glare in your eyes softened the slightest as you leaned backward. “No. I’m Peter phobic.”

His jaw tightened. “That’s a made up word, dumbass.”

“All words are made up, dumbass ,” you mocked. “God, you’re such a fucking know-it-all.”

“And you’re so fucking infuriating!” he hissed, eyebrows furrowing in frustration. “Why can’t you just be fucking nice even for seven-fucking-minutes?! Being mean to me the entire fucking time isn’t going to make time faster.”

Your eyes narrowed, jutting your chin upwards. “How can I not be mean if you’re being pretentious?”

Peter scoffed, arms flinging. “What do you mean pretentious ?!”

Despite the thickness of his shirt, it pricked his skin when your nail dug on his chest. “You act like you’re such an angel when in reality you’re a pretentious, purposely self-effacing person. Not to mention the fact that you’re annoyingly meretricious and I can’t see why people praise you for being a smartass without even them knowing who you really are,” you took a step closer. “I may sound like I’m jealous, or I’m a bitch, but I don’t care. You’re a liar, Peter Parker.”

Your remarks didn’t hurt, but the look on your face did - you looked like you were on the cusp of crying, seeming like you genuinely hated him for being himself. It appeared as if you hated him because he was selfless and he didn’t know why. “Why do you hate me for it, then?”

“Because I envy how you can be so selfless and I can’t,” you whispered. “We’ve gone through the same shit and somehow people praise you for being a better person than I am.”

11:55

He took a deep breath for your pause. “(y/n), did it ever occur to you that you don’t actually know me?”

“And did it ever occur to you that I know you’re an asshole?” you snapped. “I hate you because you were mean to me and I was the only person to actually see you for who you were. And yet I was still seen as the bad guy-”

“Just,” he put a hand over your mouth to shut you up, and you let him, your arms going up to tightly grasp his forearm. “Let me explain, please?”

He didn’t wait for you to nod your head nor shake it to respond to him. Peter slowly removed his hand over your mouth, settling them faintly against your waist. “I-I wasn’t nice to you because I was afraid.”

If it was possible, Peter could feel you relax but tense at the same time. “Afraid of what?” you whispered, your eyes darting from his right eye to his left. “Afraid of me?”

“What- no! I- I was afraid of how much I’d be attached to you.” he replied. “I was afraid because everyone that was important to me died and I didn’t want you to be one of them.”

“What do you mean…?”

“You’re an angel,” he whispered, the sides of his fingers lightly brushing the hair out of your face, lingering there for a bit. “You’re an angel and it’s hard not to fall for you. And I know that if I let you too much into my life, you’d end up hurt and I’ll regret that for the rest of my life.”

11:57

Somehow, you ended up with your hands on his chest, blinking rapidly. “Half of my life, I spent it hating you.”

“Then hate me,” he grabbed your hand, kissing your palm. “Hate me for the rest of your life, and I’ll love you for the rest of mine.”

You looked up. A moratorium on your heart, you repeated his words in your head like a mantra-like a poetry you ought to remember. You were an indecisive person, stuck between hating and loving Peter Parker.

But hating him was easier - it was your own special way of loving him.

11:59

It was now 30 seconds before the new year and you spent the past minute staring into his deceitful eyes that scanned your lips repeatedly.

You could feel his heart beating against the palm of your hand. Something about it felt calming, feeling it beat simultaneously as yours. The benign rhythm proposed at the exceptional moment. They relied on each other to create the most exquisitely dynamic scenery one ought to bestow upon; the sound was inevitably pleasant to the ears that it felt like a composition of operatic music.

His heart beat relied on yours, so he could keep loving you for as long as he lived.

“Can I kiss you?” he whispered, leaning closer. Nose bumping yours and lips touching at the faintest.

“But I won,” you said with a small smile. Peter’s hand gripped the one on top of his heart, his other cupping your soft cheek. “You told me a secret.”

“But I want to kiss you,” Peter replied, tracing your jawline. “I want to kiss you for the rest of my life, and I want you to hate me for it.”

You nodded. “Oh, I’ll totally hate you for it.”

When Peter heard the clamorous sound of the fireworks demolishing outside, he felt the fireworks inside him ignite too as he placed his lips against yours in a swift motion, lips moving at each explosion. He told himself that it didn’t matter how much you hated him, or how much you wanted to physically hurt him. He’d keep loving you despite what you do to him.

You broke his heart a million times.

And still, he kissed you while the world fell.

༻✦༺ . ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ . ༻✧༺

SAME 😩😩💖💖

i love tom holland so much it’s not even funny anymore, that man has too much power over me