If There's One Thing I've Been Really Hammering Into My Head And Continually Keep Reminding Myself Of,

good things will happen 🧿

things that are meant to be will fall into place 🧿

Everyone was being so protective of me. I loved this lmao 😭🖐️

Webs of Opacity

Summary: On the eve of the annual Stark Halloween party, you’ve managed to gulp down too much alcohol and tangled yourself into intricate webs of trouble. Even glittering fairies can’t escape the drama, and handsome 80’s film characters can’t always save them from sleazy boyfriends and hangovers.

Pairing: Peter Parker x Rogers!reader (adopted, of course), Steve Rogers x sister!reader, Bucky Barnes, Natasha Romanoff

Word count: 6k

Warnings: underage drinking, reader being very drunk, unconsented kissing, mild violence

A/N: This is a mess, I’m sorry. Started this last fall and rushed to get it done in time for this year. Also happy Halloween and over a week of Midnights being out. Couldn’t help myself from referencing it every other paragraph lol

Also if anyone has any scenarios or requests for my college series please please send them to me! Love your enthusiasm for my Stark U babies and want to keep writing for them

Masterlist

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

Your shiny, entirely fake wings keep bumping into the ridiculous amount of people crammed into this room, and you're sure you have never apologized more times in your life than tonight. Wanda has assured you many times that, no, you should not take off your wings because you look, in her words, adorable. It was her idea, after all, to dress you up like a little flowery fairy for the Halloween party Tony has thrown tonight. She made your wings all fluttery and glittery, and the flowers in your hair sparkle every now and then. It feels like a childhood dream coming true.

"Spider-boy!" you call out over the loud music, jumping as you stretch your hand up in the air to alert the young man twenty feet away.

For a "quiet gathering" there sure are a lot of loud, drunk people here. Then again, it was your mistake to trust the promise of Stark when it came to a party.

Your jumping up and down is entirely unnecessary when you're trying to gain the attention of someone with a creepy sixth sense that allows them to just know everything happening around them. Peter already knew exactly where you were the moment you opened your mouth. It doesn't help that you're just a tiny, little bit of tipsy either.

He smiles a toothy grin as he pushes past the crowd towards you, showing glimpses of his Indiana Jones costume that's honestly a slightly surprising choice. He looks handsome though.

"Hi, Y/n!" he nearly shouts over the music, embracing you in a side hug as he takes a look at your outfit. "You're a fairy! It fits you so great, it's like you were meant to be one,” Peter exclaims happily while you chuckle lightheartedly.

"Thank you, it was Wanda's idea. Indiana Jones, huh?" you ask, raising an eyebrow in question. It's quite uncharacteristic. Last year he went as Nikola Tesla and nobody knew who he was supposed to be.

"Yeah, Tony said I had to go as something cooler this year. He'd disown me otherwise." Peter cringes while your head is thrown back in laughter.

"He told me I looked like a moth earlier," you answer with a grin on your lips, the remnants of your chuckles fading out.

"You look great, Y/n. Very sweet. Think Bucky's gonna get here any second and tell me to keep any 'punks' away from you," Peter tells you. You roll your eyes, though fondly.

"Hm, I bet he will," you hum. "Gotta send him back soon if he keeps that up. Both of them, for that sake."

You nod your head towards the blonde head sticking up in the bar crowd. Your brother is an overbearing mess that you would much rather let you be, instead of hovering protectively around your presence constantly. He seems to have eased up on his duties tonight, though, in honor of the holiday.

"I think it's good that—you know—they look out for you. There are a lot of bad guys out there," Peter says, scratching his head nervously like it would somehow offend you.

"Yeah, that's understandable. Though Steve and Bucky seem to think I'm still a kid." You scrunch your nose fondly.

"Well, you are. Kind of," Peter says. Your mouth hangs agape jokingly, with a silent scoff in answer.

"Oh, that's where we're going! You're only two years older, asshole," you say with a glare, taking a sip from the drink in your hand.

"Those two years make a world of difference." He smiles with a glint in his eyes. "Head off to college and then they'll see you as an adult, maybe."

"I'm going in January—stop looking at me like that!" you yell when he smirks, holding back a laugh. "I'm serious! Alright, okay, we're not playing nice tonight, are we?" You raise an eyebrow in question.

"Sure," he smiles. It falters just as quickly when you snatch the red solo cup out of his hand, gulping down the sweet and bitter liquid before crumpling the cup in your hands. "Hey!" Peter shouts. "You're not 21!"

"Neither are you." A victorious smile adorns your lips. You try not to show the distaste from the bitter liquid burning in your throat.

"In a few months!" Peter blushes and you fight the urge to coo at him because he gets shy over the most peculiar things.

"You're so cute, Parker," you tell him with a bop to his nose.

"Oh, piss off," he says and shakes his head.

"Learnt a new swear word? Impressive. College has really changed you."

"You're really annoying right know, you know that?"

You shake your head frantically, scrunching your nose simultaneously, and there's something different about you that Peter just noticed now.

"You're already drunk, aren't you?" he asks with realization dawning upon him. You gaze up at him with a mischievous glint and a gasp escapes him. "Y/n, Steve's gonna freak out on you!"

"He's never gonna find out. And I'm not drunk. I had three drinks earlier, 's fine," you say with a dismissive wave.

"Three drinks?" he breathes out in disbelief. "That's not little—hey! Hands off, asshole!" Peter interrupts the beginning of his speech to scare away the twenty-something with his hands on your hips.

"Dickhead," the guy mutters under his breath as he backs away. You turn around to meet Peter's eyes with a pout as the guy saunters off, a disappointed frown in between your brows.

"That guy was hot. You scared him away. You ruined my only chance," you pout.

You turn around again before Peter has the chance to answer, roaming your eyes around for the guy. With only a few seconds he's managed to land himself over by the bar, drink raised to his lips as he eyes you hungrily despite Peter's warnings. You smile, biting your lip with a newfound confidence you've never experienced. Yeah, definitely tipsy. Sober you would be hiding away in the cleaning closet by now.

"Well, yeah, he was—Y/n, hello?" Peter lays his hand on your shoulder, turning you around to meet his eyes again. "You know what? We're gonna go for a walk." He lays an arm around your shoulders, gently steering you away from the guy and into the crowd.

"Oh, where?" you ask, already forgotten the source of your previous pout. "Careful of my wings, Parker."

"It's a surprise," Peter says as he loosens his hold around your wings, glancing to see if they're alright. You stop talking almost instantly and for once he's happy to know some silence from you, because right now you can't seem to shut up and he's not used to spending time with your chipper-talkative version.

Peter pushes the two of you through the thick, sweaty crowd filled with lazy costumes and masterpieces alike, ranging from several layers thick to barely covering anything at all. He recognizes some of the people from the compound, some from his college that he doesn't even know how they got here, but most of them are complete strangers.

You send flirty glances and hellos over your shoulder to every guy you gain eye contact with. It's scary how fast the alcohol went to your brain, from being completely unnoticeable to half-drunk in a minute. Peter does not like the drunk you. Or he does, maybe, but not in a room filled with guys who just can't wait to get under your ridiculously cute dress. It's offensive really, how you can manage to look so excruciatingly innocent and hot at the same time. He'll curse out Wanda tomorrow.

The party is so packed with people that it takes ten minutes before he finds the ones he's looking for. Wanda and Natasha sip on their martinis in a ridiculously large couch, gossiping like a bunch of school girls as they shout encouragements at Sam and Tony on the dance floor. Peter sighs, nearly pushing you down on the couch next to Natasha before he slouches down himself.

"What do we have here, huh?" Natasha smirks and takes a small sip of her drink.

"She's drunk. I'm exhausted. Please take her off my hands," Peter says as he throws his head back on the couch. You let out a giggle, leaning against Natasha's shoulder.

"He's exaggerating," you say with your voice muffled by her shoulder.

"Okay, young lady. Drunk, huh?" Wanda asks, raising an eyebrow in question. Her perfectly red lips curl into a smile that shows she's not really upset about it.

"No," you mumble, scratching your nose with your manicured finger for the occasion. "Hiya, Auntie," you coo while curling up besides Natasha.

"Stop calling me Auntie," she mutters and gently pushes you off her shoulder.

"How's your boyfriend? Jake? No, John. Wait! Jack!" you fumble over your words. It might as well be any of the three names, because Natasha has been showing up with a new person on her arm every other month this year. You don't know what it is, really, but you guess you should be glad she's exploring her options.

"Jason," Natasha says through a roll of her eyes. The slightest hint of amusement can be found on her lips, but it's nothing that she shows to someone else. "And he's very much good, now stop asking. He's just getting drinks," she says and nods towards the bar.

"I like that guy," you exclaim excitedly. There's no doubt about your drunken state in this moment, because in no shape or form have you been as wounded up about any of Natasha's past partners.

"Hey, honey," Wanda catches your attention with a gentle hand on your arm, reaching across the sofa. "Where's your brother hiding? I can't imagine he would be very happy with you being drunk, no?" she asks.

"He can't know!" you exclaim with a whispered shout. "He's gonna kill me, please, Wanda."

Your eyes are blown wide open in fear. It's not that Steve would be mad—the disappointment is what you desperately want to evade. He gets that frown in between his eyebrows, puts his hands on his hips and shakes his head while looking down to the ground. Being on the receiving side of that is humiliating, on the verge of heartbreaking. You can't handle that tonight.

"I don't know, sweetheart..."

"Please, Wanda." There's tears gathering in your eyes, more so for dramatic effect than actual upset. You've slid down onto your knees in front of her, begging with your hands on her thighs.

"Oh god," Natasha mutters under her breath, setting down her drink on the table while indifferently glancing over to the bar where her boyfriend of the month resides.

She can't really handle this theatric version of you. There's a reason you're usually one of her favorites, despite your young age—your ability to be fucking quiet. Whoever gave you all that alcohol is on her damn hit list.

While she tunes out the conversation behind her, some kind of settlement is agreed upon where you, of course, get your way. No more alcohol, and Wanda won't tell your brother or Bucky what you have been up to.

When she stands up to leave, you're on your feet again. Now your attention has wandered over to Peter's costume, talking of how 'incredibly accurate to detail' it is despite being thrown together last minute by the college student. The only thing telling what he's dressed as is the hat paired with the old leather jacket.

A wet kiss is pressed to Natasha's cheek as soon as she joins Jason by the bar. His hand instantly finds her waist, pressing her into him tightly. His touch almost repulses her. He's too straightforward with his affection, so obvious in his quest to show her off.

"You look so goddamn sexy," he whispers into her ear. "Been thinking about what we talked about the other day."

Nat hums absentmindedly in answer, raising a finger swiftly to wave over the bartender.

"You know, having another p—"

"Yeah, I know what you're talking about," she interrupts him.

He brought it up about a week ago, and she only entertained the idea because she was bored. Jason is only a temporary occupation for her constant need to destress—there's no way in hell she's gonna adhere to his fantasy of having two girls sucking him off at the same time.

"She's not your real niece, no?" Jason asks suddenly, setting his gaze on your soft curves in that angelic dress framing your figure on the other side of the room.

Natasha's attention snaps from her drink to where his eyes are set. "You know she's not," she mutters as she takes a sip on her martini, suspiciously eyeing her boyfriend.

"I'm up for it," he says, nodding your way.

"Excuse me?" Natasha raises an eyebrow, gracefully setting down her glass on the counter.

"She's our girl, I have a feeling she is. You can ask her, can't you?" Jason smirks as he shamelessly keeps his stare on you. "Pretty little thing like that would be up for anything, wouldn't she?"

It takes exactly two seconds for Natasha to have a sharp fork pressed against Jason's side, just above one of his major arteries and restricting his breathing. A choked gurgle escapes his lips as Natasha's mouth lingers next to his ear.

"I know 72 different ways to break every bone in your body, and I can make 65 of them seem like an accident." Her smooth voice fills his ear. "Keep her name out of your mouth."

She keeps the fork pressed into his skin for a few seconds, just for extra measure, before she lets it go and Jason coughs violently as his hand flies up to his throat. Natasha takes another sip of her drink, glancing over the unsuspecting crowd with a roll of her eyes.

"I suggest you leave. Go clean up in the bathroom, you have a stain on your shirt," Natasha says before taking her drink and walking away.

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

You squeeze yourself through the thick bathroom line, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear while trying to avoid bumping into as many people as possible. You gave up on preserving your wings two drinks ago, because quite frankly you have forgotten them by now.

You might also have ignored your fellow elders' warnings of laying off the alcohol, choosing to indulge in whatever drink you could get your hands on for one evening only. It's a risky move, but it's something you can afford. You rarely stir up any trouble, if any at all. What fun is it if you remain predictable all the time?

The music blares through the floor, thumping along with the people jumping up and down against it. You're out of it in the most wonderful way, rid of your constant presence in your own mind, if even for just a short while. The consequences do not exist and neither does your conscience.

When a guy in his late twenties, or thirties, maybe even your age, grasps a hold of your hand and asks if you want to dance, you answer yes without any hesitation. Sweaty bodies spread their heat around, pushing up against you and the mysterious guy as you move against each other.

You barely know what you're doing. You're only following along, letting him control your movements close to his body. If you were more sober you would have seen how it could be more likened to grinding than dancing, but the weight of his hands on your hips feels grounding instead of unnerving.

"You look so fucking pretty," he says into your ear, muffled by the alcohol buzzing in your head and the music blaring over the speakers.

You throw your arms around his neck, looking up at him with what you think is a smile. You're trying, at least. "Thank—" Hiccup. "Thank you. You're pretty too," you say, even though you can barely make out his features in the darkness.

But you think he looks pretty. A hypothesis based on the way his hands feel on your skin. Hot may be a better word for it, but in your state of mind adjectives do not differ especially much from each other. That's why you let him drag you away from the crowd, pushing through drunk people until you find a relatively secluded corner of the floor.

The wall is cold against your heated skin, your back against it while the man's arms cage you in. The feeling of his lips trailing across your neck barely registers. It just feels nice, you think. Your eyes are fluttered close, back arching while you mumble indetectable words you can't even decipher yourself. You're so fucking drunk you won't even remember this moment in the morning.

That's the problem with you drinking tonight—your alcohol consumption has been so limited that you have no conception of whatever is much or not. You have no idea if it takes three or six drinks to get you affected. You have no idea what you are like on tequila or vodka, on Prosecco or red wine. So now, eight drinks later of so many different types you can't even remember which was which, you're out of it enough to barely remember your own name.

His wet lips against yours are a suffocating presence you would much rather be without. It's sloppy and rushed, not at all what you imagined kissing would be. You wince to yourself, pushing him away just an inch to run the back of your hand against your mouth.

And then he's suddenly gone. You could have sworn he stood right in front of you. It takes a good ten seconds before you find him on the floor, clutching his nose with an angry frown in between his eyebrows.

"What the fuck, man?!" he shouts, looking up at the guy who has a funny hat on his head and a heaving chest.

"Stay away from her," the guy seethes, suddenly taking a gentle hold of your arm.

You don't have it in you to protest. Maybe it's dangerous to follow whoever when they tell you to, but your moral compass is non-existent in this state.

"Are you okay, Y/n?" the guy asks you. You blink, staring at his face while trying to piece together his features. No words come out of your mouth. "Damnit," he sighs, shaking his head.

A woman comes up to him with rushed steps, agitated look on her face. "Is she alright, Peter?" She runs her eyes over your disheveled figure.

"She's completely out of it. Must have snuck in quite a lot of more drinks," he answers. "Your dickhead of a boyfriend is taken care of, by the way. Probably won't stir up anymore trouble now."

"I should have checked so he actually left. It was reckless to think he would leave her alone," she says with a stern face, cold gaze watching the exit.

"Wasn't your fault, Nat," Peter assures her. You sway in your stance, stumbling into his hold while he steadies his grip around you.

"She needs to lay down before she passes out. Get her a glass of water for me, will you?" Natasha commands.

Peter nods, giving you a concerned glance before reluctantly heading towards the bar. Your head comes to lean on Natasha's shoulder with a whine, letting her lead you wherever she's going. You're starting to feel dizzy and slightly nauseous, and you do not like it. If you had the energy to speak you would launch a heavy string of complaints.

"Come on now, darling. A few more steps," she says, taking on more of your weight.

Your face is buried into her shoulder. The only thing detectable from your blubbering is the whines, wordlessly pleading to take you away from wherever you are and rid you of the nausea.

Heavy glances are exchanged between Peter and Natasha as he pushes through the crowd, fingers clinging tightly onto the large glass in his hand.

"Here," he breathes out, reaching the glass towards her.

She takes it from his hands, tilting your chin up with her manicured fingers. "There you go, Y/n," she mumbles as you gulp down small sips of the liquid.

The music blares loudly throughout the large room, sweaty bodies packed tightly together. What you found exhilarating and exciting twenty minutes ago is now suffocating. It's the only thing you know as you barely stand on two feet amongst the crowd. If it weren't for Nat, you would be in a heap on the floor.

"Let's go." Natasha nods towards the exit, glancing over her shoulder as Peter trails shortly after.

You're barely awake, burrowing your face into the crook of her neck. Peter can smell the stale alcohol on your breath from where he walks just beside the two of you—fruity drinks and vodka and tequila and wine. It unnerves him to think that you might have ingested enough of the poison to make it dangerous.

The bitter night air is refreshing for anyone who's senses are at least partly alert. It's a blessing really, that tonight you only have the short walk from the party to your homes located just on the other side of the compound grounds.

The dewy grass is partially lit up by strobe lights placed along the lines of the premises, soaking Natasha's heels and Peter's loafers. Your bare arms prickle with the low temperature.

It feels like an awfully long journey for Peter as he walks along Natasha, halfway waking up enough from the haze to take on some of your weight as well. There's a thought or two of swinging you back home in just a few seconds, but there's not much for his web to hold onto out here. The anxiety creates shudders in his limbs and forces him to glance over to your figure every other second.

"She'll be fine, Peter," Natasha says without so much as sparing him a glance. "She's just drunk. It'll be over tomorrow."

But his anxiety doesn't ease, rightfully so, when your palm suddenly pushes against her chest with all the force you can muster in your state. You whine, sprawling your legs until they have no option but to release you.

"Wha—"

On your knees, bent over the small bushes meticulously trimmed by the nice gardeners, you throw your guts out with shudders wracking the whole of your body. Awful.

Natasha could have said 'I told you so', but people make dumb decisions while drunk and she already feels bad for you over what Jason did. "Oh, honey," she whispers to herself instead, taking a step forward to reach you.

But Peter's faster. Of course he is. The young man is kneeling down beside you, hand gently wrapping around your hair to pull it aside while the other rubs against your back.

Any other time, when alcohol isn't poisoning your blood, and you would have felt ashamed. You probably will be tomorrow. You would have reacted to Peter being the one to take care of you, especially after showing such irritation about your state earlier.

The grass is cold and wet against your knees, but it is a welcome relief from the heat plaguing your skin. You are almost certain there are tears making their way out of your eyes and you would positively murder someone for another glass of water.

Instead of gulping down another glass, like you want to, you close your eyes while breathing out deeply. The nausea slowly fades away with each second, the heat being replaced by dewy goosebumps on your skin, all the while clarity pushes itself past the alcohol-induced blur.

A raspy cough. A thick gulp, swallowing too much air at the same time but you force yourself to hold it in. "Did I just kiss someone?" you speak for the first time in an hour.

And Natasha nearly laughs, until she remembers the state you were in. You didn't kiss someone.

"No, Y/n," she says softly, glancing up at Peter with a hardened gaze that tells him to keep his mouth shut. "No, you didn't."

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

It's dark, empty of anyone who usually resides in the living room. The lights flickered on one by one, lighting up the space too much for your liking when you stepped inside. A whine was all it took for Peter to turn them off again.

You've been discarded on the couch, legs stretched out over Nat’s thighs with a cold, wet towel laying on your face. Peter sits fiddling with his fingers just beside your head. It's quiet—thankfully—even though you feel much better than before.

"What time is it?" you ask after what must have been ten minutes of complete silence.

"It's, uh, ten past one," Peter stutters out, like he's surprised by the sound of your voice. In reality he just reacts this way each time you speak, but the circumstances have chipped on his resolve. He can't hide his shivers behind a cool facade anymore.

"Happy Halloween," you croak out, earning a quiet chuckle from him. He checks his phone to see the date on top of the screen. 31st October, indeed.

Honestly, Peter has been some kind of obsessed with you since he was sixteen and visited the compound for the first time. You and Steve were walking on the trail slinging around the grounds, deep into solemn conversation.

Peter should have been listening to the endless list of security policy Happy was lining up for him, but he just couldn't tear his eyes off of you. Not because you were beautiful—you are, but he couldn't really see your face in detail from that far away—but because there was someone else his age in the same situation as him. Then he found out you were just Steve's adopted little sister and was a bit disappointed over your lack of involvement with the Avengers.

For weeks he tried to understand why you were in this century too and if Captain America had kept you secret for a reason. Peter was too nervous to actually talk to you until Tony shut him out of some team meeting and you were the only other one in the living room. He saw you everyday after that.

But now he's living hours away at university and he hates that it feels like you're drifting apart and everything is happening without him knowing. You drinking and being interested in men and men being interested in you. He tries to keep the contact up—texts you everyday and calls you and sends messages to Steve or Bucky if you don't answer. For the things you won't tell him, the things he can't see.

He was so excited for tonight. Chose the Indiana Jones costume because Harrison Ford is cool and sexy in those movies and surely you must think that too? And damn it, when he saw you sparkle and shimmer as you walked into the room with your wings fluttering he almost fell to the ground. It was fun as long as you were sober enough to actually talk to him.

Peter's spent the last hour and a half so goddamn mad at Natasha's boyfriend. And of course he is jealous, it should have been him you were dancing with like that, but that man took advantage of your vulnerable state. You could barely stand up, let alone actually protest or give your consent. Peter doesn't know if that was your first kiss or not, but regardless he's mighty glad he knocked the guy out.

You've gone quiet again, and he almost thinks you have fallen asleep, but you peek out from under the towel when the door you all came in through is thrown open. Heavy boots clank against the floor and a frown adorns Steve Rogers', or Fred from Scooby Doo for the night, face when he and his best friend barges inside. It doesn't take long for them to catch sight of the couch occupied by a wide-eyed Peter, stoic Natasha and still kind of drunk Y/n.

"You're going to be the death of me, young lady," Steve speaks up, letting out a deep sigh once he's close enough to tower over your figure.

He got a run-through of the events by a slightly dramatic Asgardian god and an infinitely more concerned Wanda a few minutes ago. You had gotten black-out drunk and found yourself grinding against some punk in the crowd. That was forgivable, even though Steve would much rather you didn’t at this age. Then that fucking jerk shoved his tongue down your throat despite you barely being able to form words. Yeah, Jackson or Jacob or whatever his name was had a talk with Bucky before the two of them rushed over here.

With his hands on his hips and a shake of his head, Steve stands there for a second before kneeling down. Bucky has his arms crossed a few feet away like he still hasn't really decided wether he's pissed or just feels sorry for you.

"You okay, Y/n?" Steve asks you, a little softer. His palm has come to feel your forehead, even though you doubt fever is a common symptom of being hungover.

Peter is paralyzed beside him. He’s quite sure Steve knows how completely infatuated he is with you. Mostly because Peter accidentally, somehow, sent a voice message meant for Ned to Bucky. He must have shared that by now. What should I wear? Y/n is going to be there. Han Solo? Does she even like brunettes? Is she into blondes? Oh god, I’m helpless.

"No," you mutter in answer to your brother’s question. "This sucks. Why didn't anyone tell me?"

Bucky snorts. "What did you even drink? Vodka?"

"No. I don't know. In the beginning it was just some screw-top rosé Peter's roommate brought," you tell him, scrunching your nose with the memory of the taste of it. "It tasted cheap."

"Oh, because you know things like that now, do you?" Bucky says, raising his eyebrows at you. "Can tell expensive wine from cheap-ass rosé?"

"Buck," Steve says before you even have the chance to answer. Chastises, maybe. "You're not 21 yet. Who gave all that alcohol to you?"

You turn your head away, pressing it into the pillow. Steve turns you back to him with a hand to your shoulder, giving you a pointed look that holds some level of amusement. He acts like God's righteous man, but he was a troublemaker in his youth. Tony would have a field day if he knew all the times Steve came home drunk at sixteen after drinking some musty home-made brandy.

"Peter?" Steve looks up at him when you choose not to answer, using alternative, dirty methods to get answers. Cheater. Your mouth falls open, looking over at both your brother and Peter with an offended glare.

The young man stutters, eyes glancing frantically between the two of you while trying to figure out who scares him the most. "I—uh, don't know. My roommate. Apparently. Natasha's boyf—ex?"

The playful tone dims into stern faces and clenched jaws as the villain of the evening is mentioned out loud. You're caught up deciphering the sudden switch in attitude for longer than you should have before solving the riddle. Natasha told you nothing happened, but unfortunately you have vague pictures of a man, her man, shoving his tongue into your mouth. Oh god.

You sink even further into the couch, if that's possible, shielding yourself from the undoubtably judgemental gazes shared in the room. Natasha's boyfriend cheated with you and you didn't even say anything.

"Don't hide from us, sweetheart," Steve says, brushing hair away from your face. "Hey, it's not your fault. That punk took advantage of you. You weren't in your right mind."

Your dickhead of a brother knows you too well. Can tell with just a glance when you're overthinking and analyzing and blaming yourself for problems that have nothing to do with you from the beginning.

"Calm down, birdie,” Nat says softly, earning your attention even though you want to crawl out of your skin. “That's not a conscious decision, when you're drunk like that. It wasn't your fault in the least. Fourty minutes ago you couldn't even stand straight.”

"I'm really sorry, Nat," you say, eyes flickering down to your legs draped over her lap.

"Stop it. That fucking dickhead thought it would be a good idea to tell me he wanted to have a threesome with you. I told him to stay away from you and leave, but he obviously didn't. Probably just to spite me."

"Threesome?" Steve chokes on his breath and the word comes out as more of a cough. He tightens his hold on your hand until you let out a wince, drawing a whispered ‘sorry’ from his lips.

“Me?” you breathe out, sitting up a little higher.

Peter pushes you down onto the pillow again not even a second later. He doesn’t want you to strain yourself. He’s also fucking pissed now because that man not only assaulted you, he also asked Natasha to have a threesome with you. A 19-year old.

“I’m sorry that he took advantage of you, Y/n. Not going to bring anymore of these assholes I keep dating.” Natasha sighs tiredly, letting her head fall back against the couch.

“That’s not your fault either, you know,” Bucky mutters, earning a pointed look from her that says more than her words can. A ‘thank you’ and ‘I know, dickhead’ simultaneously.

A comfortable silence spanning a dozen of seconds is shared between the five of you. It’s late and everyone is tired and what needed to be said has already been said. You’re fine after all and Natasha will be okay, if she isn’t already.

Peter shifts uncomfortably beside you, brushing against your hair and alerting you even more of his presence. He’s been so sweet to you tonight. He always has been. It guilts you now that you have taken his kindness for granted with time, but Peter cared for you the entire evening despite his teasing words.

You don’t know if it means something. Peter is good to everyone. And he has—MJ and him seem so close. They most likely spend all their time together now when they go the same college. Both geniuses. You don’t really have much to contribute except being the younger sister of America’s favorite hero and embarrassing yourself in a fairy costume on Halloween.

So you push the thought aside. Bury it deep and take in the rest of your surroundings. A quiet snort rests on your lips as you assess the brooding man who has finally seated himself down on an uncomfortable chair from the kitchen.

"Your costume is horrible, Bucky. You're not even dressed up,” you speak up, breaking the silence with a playful smile.

"Yes. I am," he mutters. "I have a mask."

"That does not count. You're wearing your normal clothes." You giggle while he rolls his eyes, earning a chuckle from you brother too. He’s glad to see you cheering up.

“What is considered a real costume then, sweets?” Bucky asks you, raising his eyebrows while pinpointing you with his ingenuine glare.

“I don’t know.” You look around, glancing over your brother’s attempt at a classic Fred, Natasha’s Dorothy, before landing on Indiana Jones. “Peter’s is good,” you mumble, heat spreading to your cheeks from nowhere. Why are you reacting this way?

“Yeah, sure lucky ‘bout that since he planned it all for you,” he mumbles under his breath. “Punk is head over heels.”

The breath escapes the two of you—you and Peter. Because Peter knows Bucky is right and you can’t believe what you just heard.

“What?” both you and Steve say simultaneously. Your brother has turned his entire body towards Peter.

You raise yourself up to a seat, glancing between Bucky and Peter. The latter’s eyes are wide open, lips parted. Guilty.

“Peter?” you ask him, so quietly he almost has to rely on the shape of your lips to hear what you said.

A clearing of his throat. Scratch on the back of his neck.

“Yeah, about that…”

your instagram while living in the tomholland!spiderman universe

Liked by mystery.jones and 128 others

thereal.y.n @spiderman.offcial. thanks for returning my bike!

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→ the_amazing_flash he really is the best     → thereal.y.n for once we agree flashlight

→ mystery.jones how did you lose that thing in the first place, idiot?     → thereal.y.n HEY goldfish memory is a real problem y’know!

→ spiderman.offcial. no problem @threal.y.n just doing my job as the friendly neighbourhood spiderman!      → mystery.jones i didn’t know space counted as “the neighbourhood”      → TheGuyInTheChair dude havent you been to space??

Liked by _peter_parker_ and 87 others

thereal.y.n. who needs a valentine when you’ve got a @mystery.jones?

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→ TheGuyInTheChair you guys went to the beach without us?!      → thereal.y.n sorry ned it was a girls only trip, we’ll got Moira’s tmr promise

→ the_amazing_flash your only saying that bc you were sad and lonely on valentine’s day      → mystery.jones it’s you’re* @the_amazing_flash

→ _peter_parker_ i thought you got a secret rose?      → thereal.y.n oh yeah i almost forgot abt that

Keep reading

Loved this!! 💖💖

so i checked out your guidelines and you said that you like plot to be included too so i hope this isn't too much for you.

R is 11 here if that's okay with you.

can i ask you to write an avengers x teen!reader where tony adopts a kid from foster care and the team is trying to get her to open up but she locks herself in her room because she's used to moving from home to home or being abused in the system so she's scared to do anything normal like interact and stuff like that. when they showed her room on the first day she was hesitant to go in bc she's used to poor treatment. Wanda and Nat are the first ones to notice her behavior and they point it out to the rest of the team. they come up with a plan to help her but it only pushes her further away from them bc she isn't used to that much attention. they decide that when she's ready she'll come to them so one game night she tip toes downstairs and peaks in the living room to see them having a good time. wanda or vision senses her energy and she tries to silently sneak back but they invite her in and she reluctantly joins them. she isn't too familiar with the games they're playing so they teach her then afterwards they watch a bunch of movies and they're glad they can give her the family she never had.

Family

Summary: Sometimes it takes a while to find your true family.

Pairing: Avengers x teen!reader

Warnings: none

Word count: 1116

a/n: This is not too much at all! Thank you for the request :) (I’m sorry this is terrible)

Tags: @thought-of-you-and-me @rafecameronswhore

Walking into an entirely new surroundings is always anxiety inducing, but it’s especially scary when the people leading you to your so called new room are the world’s mightiest heroes.

There’s two men and two women in front of her, she knows who they are, of course, but she isn’t going to bring it up. Surely they have already sensed it.

One of the men, Iron Man, or Tony, as he told her to call him, is talking constantly. His hands are moving up and down, side to side as he gestures to different rooms and what’s in them. He is walking right in front of her, creating a sort of barrier between them. Wanda on the other hand, is walking next to her, occasionally glancing down at her.

Y/N keeps her eyes on Tony’s back. She doesn’t want to look anyone in the eyes or seem too fearful by mapping out the place.

“And this here,” Tony stops walking and opens a door, “is your room.” He turns to look at her with a big grin.

Not moving, Y/N stares inside the room. The four of them keep looking at her, waiting to see her reaction, but they get none.

Tony clears her throat. “You can go in, kid.” With small steps, she goes into the room. “We know it’s a bit empty, but you just tell me whatever you need and want, and I’ll buy it.”

She doesn’t need anything. It’s not like this room will be hers for long. It’s usual for her to stay in a home for a month at best. So, it’s better to not get attached to anything or anyone.

Wanda has a frown on her face as she watches Y/N set down her tiny bag. She’s worried of the girl, but puts those feelings on the side, this is a big change after all.

“Should we leave you to settle in?” Steve speaks up when the silence starts to drag on for a long time. “Someone could come get you when dinner is ready.”

With a nod from Y/N, the four of them close the door and leave her alone with her thoughts. With no one around, she lets out a deep breath and starts inspecting the room. It’s bigger than any other room she has had, and cleaner.

It’ll definitely be harder to leave this room behind when the time eventually comes.

After two very uneventful days, Natasha and Wanda have started talking with the other Avengers how Y/N doesn’t seem to get better, even though they’re giving her plenty of space. So, they decide to try another approach.

Wanda knocks on the door with a huge smile. Some of the other team members are behind her with boxes.

Opening the door only slightly, Y/N peeks through the gap. “Hi!” Wanda waves. “We got you something, if you could open the door a bit more?” Her voice is gentle and on the quieter side.

Y/N opens the door properly. Her eyes widen when she noticed the others and all the boxes waiting there. “We bought you some furniture and decorations.” Natasha brings one of the boxes in the room. “Obviously, we don’t know for sure what you like, but I think we got some good stuff.”

She stays frozen on her spot, out of the way, staring at the others walking in and out of the room. There are so many of them at the same time. Y/N doesn’t understand what they’re doing. Is this a test?

In fear of being punish for a wrong reaction, she decides to not react at all. Her hands are shaking behind her back, but she doesn’t let them see her fear. She just stares at them with a stoic expression.

“What do you think?” Wanda asks once the things are set. “You can obviously change things around if they aren’t to your liking, but this is a good start, yeah?” When Y/N just nods mutely, Wanda’s smile falls.

A silence falls over the room. Very uncomfortable and heavy silence. “Well,” Natasha clears her throat. “We’ll let you be.”

When the door closes, Wanda and Natasha glance at each other. “That didn’t work out the way I wanted.” Wanda mumbles. “I really thought that’d help her get out of her shell.”

“Maybe we just need to let her be.”

She huffs. “I know, it’s just so difficult when I can basically hear her worries.”

“It’ll happen, lets just do it on her terms.”

A week goes by where it almost seems like Y/N pulled into her shell even more. She wouldn’t speak to anyone, or even want to physically be in the same room as someone else. One of the team members always had to go knock on her door and leave a plate of food in front of it, so she would eat.

Most of the team got back into their regular routines, though their worry stayed the same, but they couldn’t stand outside her door forever. Wanda and Natasha would talk to her through the door at times, even if the conversation was fully one sided.

Today, the Avengers decided to spend the evening playing different board games. It’s not unusual for them, as they like to do bonding activities together.

Tony knocked on Y/N’s door to ask her to join them, but only got a small head shake as an answer. However, after an hour and a half, Y/N opens the door carefully.

She sneaks towards the living room, being cautious not to make any noise. Stopping right before the room, she peaks in. All the team members are laughing and shouting together.

Y/N takes deep breaths to calm herself down, these kind of situations still make her incredibly nervous. Suddenly, Wanda turns to look at her.

Her eyes turn wide and she is just about to turn away to go back to her room’s safety, but Wanda speaks up before she can. “Hey, sweetheart. Do you want to join us?” Now some of the others turn to look at her.

With hesitance, Y/N starts walking towards them. They’re surprised by this, but try their best not to show it. “We’re playing Monopoly. You ever played it?” Tony asks as Y/N sits between Wanda and Natasha.

“No.”

“That’s alright, we’ll teach you.” Wanda smiles, putting one more pawn to the board.

Y/N stays quiet for quite some time during the game night, but when the evening goes on, she starts initiating conversation more and even leans on Wanda’s side at times.

Maybe this family is different after all, it certainly isn’t ordinary.

#lovely!!!

Oh m gee girl the last fanfic you wrote was just >>>> *chefs kiss* loved it- also act you knowing who I am hehehhshshde you might or might not ill never tell ;) anyway cos im obsessed with Peter Parker…. hc mcu! Peter Parker meeting y/n and falling in love with her in first sight, and doing everything he can to get her to like him~ bonus points if my dude mr. stark or Loki (loml) helps him flirt with herrr~~~~

🌸 anon <3

Oblivious (( peter parker x reader )) ♡ author's note: Flower anon you sure are cheeky >:D thank you for feeding ur hopeless writer with ideas huhuhuhu~ also im changing this bit format cos the old one looks horribly OOGLY ehhehsswdwdfsfs- also this is placed after homecoming but before far from home (aka when tony stark is alive because i refuse to believe he's dead lmao *cries*)

♡ synopsis: peter parker meeting y/n and falls in love in first sight, and tells her unexpectedly. strangers to best friends to lovers au.

♡ pairings: peter parker x fem!reader, platonic! loki x peter parker, platonic! tony x peter parker

♡ word count:

♡ warnings: fluff, strangers to best friends to lovers au, mild swearing, one sexual reference because tony blackmailed me and forced me to write that >:((, peter being a flustered MESS because I love him that way skdjksjsf

—

You were the newest intern at Stark Industries. You couldn’t have imagine how you got in, compared to the hundreds of other people who applied. You squirmed into the building, awestruck at how the building was so large. You hitched your breath and kept the files close to your chest. A bag was pulled by your right hand, and as you entered the place you stopped to admire the architecture of it.

The place was bustling with fancy men and women in suits. You flushed, looking down to your attire. A casual oversized hoodie with a pair of black tights. Your hair was let open, and you thought you looked like a mess compared to everyone else.

All the posh ladies had their hair tied either in a bun or a ponytail. You shuffled through your purse to check if you had a spare scrunchie. 

You suddenly heard a loud crash from behind. Startled you stumbled back. Before you could say anything, someone ran into you, pushing you back and making you drop all the files and paperwork.

“Not this,“ you mumbled, running a hand through your hair. This was not a good start to your day. 

You bent down to pick the papers up, when an unfamiliar boy came to help you. He picked the files up before you could react and handed them over to you, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly. “Who-“ You were cut off by him apologising.

“I’m so sorry for shoving you, “ The boy went on, “I was running late and didn’t see you and I-“

“It’s fine,”

“You could’ve gotten hurt-“ “Nah,” You shrugged, “It really isn’t that big of a deal,” 

The boy looked about your age. A bit taller than you, and he dressed around the same way. He was wearing a bone white shirt which read a geeky science joke. His curly brown hair reminded you of that one fictional character you had a crush on in first grade. The resemblance was uncanny.

“It isn’t every day you knock a pretty girl over,” He blushed, putting his hand in his pocket. “Why don’t I treat you for a cup of coffee to pay you back?”

Your cheeks reddened. The feeling of heat rose in your face. “I would- err- love to but,” you started, “I’m an intern here and if I bunk my first day, Mr. Stark would probably have a bad impression of me.”

He burst out in a grin. “I know Mr. Stark personally, and I’m sure he wouldn’t mind if you do it once. And I’ll obviously tell him I initiated the idea if he asks.”

You debated if you should go or not.

‘Heck,’ you thought to yourself, ‘I get the chance to talk to a cute guy who doesn’t think I’m a idiot for once, I’m not getting rid of this chance’

“It’s a date then!” You smirked, watching him blush.

—

Two months passed by. You were currently Mr. Stark’s favourite intern. Now that you knew Peter Parker (the boy) was also interning, you could spend all your time with him. You hanged out with the Avengers with him, and told all your secrets to him. 

One time you caught Peter changing out of his Spiderman suit, and knew why he was disappearing at random times and why he knew everything about the Avengers (mainly because he is one)

Peter was your best friend, you couldn’t imagine what you’d do without him. He sneaked in your room during the night and talked to you for hours. You never told him about your little crush, scared that he wouldn’t return the feelings for you.

Little did you know, he was falling hard. From the moment he saw you, he was in love. Peter would do anything to steal little moments with you, from almost losing Aunt May’s trust from visiting you every night, to showing you top secret inventions in Tony’s lab. When you were in concentration to do anything, he stopped whatever he was supposed to do, and stared at you, taking in the essence of your elegancy (even when you were stuffing food in your face which did not look elegant to everyone but him)

Thing was, you didn't notice. This was the first time you had a best friend, and you couldn't draw the line between romantic or friendly. Peter would buy you a box of your favourite chocolate and the whole series of that one book series you've been wanting for the past week, and you'd say it was a 'best friend thing' as Natasha smirked evilly and Clint laughed hysterically

"BEST- OH GOD SAVE ME- NAT DID YOU HEAR THAT- AHAHAHAHA-" Clint wheezed. "Don't tease the young lovers," Natasha rolled her eyes playfully. "He isn't in love with me!" You exclaimed. "Suuureeee he isn't," Clint grinned, "The same way I don't think Thor is the hottest avenger." "Gaaaaayyyyyy," Tony yelled from across the room. "Like you don't think the same, Tin Can!" Clint stuck his tongue out

You huffed and walked out. Stupid Avengers. —

"She's so cute..." Peter thought out loud, from behind the entryway of the kitchen. You were doing your math homework on the kitchen counter, and you threatened to kill anyone who disturbed you.

Tony, who was making pasta in the, leaned back. "You think so?" He mused.

Peter stumbled back and balanced himself, scared from Tony's outburst. "Oh- mister Stark- h..hihi!" He said all too quickly. "I Didn't- didn't see ya- oh boy I did not see you there- haha-"

Tony raised and eyebrow and walked towards peter, draping an arm around him. "First of all kid, she has her headphones on so she can't hear us even if we scream," He said, "Second of all, cut the shit son." "What?" "Yeah, We know you like her" "WHAT!?"

Tony sighed. "It's not like you're hiding it well, you're acting like a lovesick dork around her."

Peter flushed. "I don't act like-" "You almost tripped on the stairs and broke your nose trying to give her roses on her birthday." "It was her birthday! I couldn't not give her something!" "Roses, parker. You gave her roses and you expect me to think you don't like her romantically."

Peter bit his lip. "Maybe I... Maybe I do have a small crush on her-" "Small?" "Fineeeeee, a big crush," He murmured, "But I know she'll never like a loser like me..."

Tony shrugged, glancing back at him, and then you. "Don't worry, kid. I have a few tricks up my sleeve." A smirk was plastered across his face, and Peter knew trouble was brewing.

—

"No, No I am not doing this," Peter vigorously shook his head, talking to this earpiece attached to his ear, where he could communicate with Tony and a specific mischievous god who overheard their little 'conversation' in the kitchen island when he sought some Swedish Fish He wore a slick black suit and tie, personally tailored by Loki, who took an interest at the 'spiderling's love life.'

There was a prayer to Freya, norse goddess of love, sewn on the cuffs in gold and tints of red, for good luck.

"Small Spiderling," Loki comforted, his silky smooth voice instantly calming Peter, "I have seen you with Lady Y/N. It is no secret that you have feelings for her, she is an impressively kind and considerate woman."

"I mean, loads of other guys like her too, y'know," Peter whispered into the bug.

"Trust me," Loki smirked, "I have my ways of guessing. 99.999% I'm right!" "If you aren't- I swear I'm gonna chop your horns off, Reindeer Games," Scowled Tony.

Peter took a deep breath, standing at your door, holding a bouquet of your favourite flowers. "Kid, you did this before. Why can't ya do it now?" Tony asked through the earpiece.

"Because I wasn't confessing my eternal love for her that time!" Peter grumbled. He nervously knocked on the door, waiting for someone to answer.

You swung it open, and were delighted at the sight of him. "Peter!" You said, gesturing him to come in. "I didn't know you were coming tonight!"

He flushed and handed the flowers over to you, "These- These are uh- for err.. for you," Peter stumbled on his words.

You twinkled, taking them from his hand. "These are wonderful, Petey!" You sniffed them, taking in the smell blissfully. "But.. What's the occasion?" you asked obliviously. Tony facepalmed from his end.

"Oh," He started, "I just, uh, wanted to tell you something for a, errr, long time."

You didn't hear him, and instead went inside to keep the flowers in water.

Tony groaned at your sickly sweetness. "Just do it already, spandex-man!"

Peter sat at the edge of your sofa, regretting listening to the two men. He just couldn't have been just friends. Hell, this could ruin your friendship!

He would rather be a platonic interest in your life than not even be in your life. He was sure you'd hate him if he said the dreading three words. How was a girl like you supposed to like a boy like him?

"How?" He murmured. You had your back turned to put the flowers in a pot.

"Just slide over with a seductive smile and confess. Who knows, you might even get laid today!"

"MISTER STARKKKKK!" Peter gasped. You turned around on your heel and furrowed your eyebrows.

"Is anything wrong, Petey?" You inquired. "N-nope!" his heart warmed at the affectionate nickname. The poor boy couldn't help but be a flustered mess. "Oooookaayyyyy" You said, giggling, and facing the other way.

Peter straightened his suit and fixed his tie, walking towards you. 'It was now or never' Loki stated.

"Petey?" You asked, at the sudden stance of him towering over you. You set the vase aside and focused on him. His impeccable jawline looked so sharp and dashing, that you almost forgot about the bumbling boy who you talked to all the time.

The room was getting a bit heated, and you just noticed this was the first time you saw him in a suit. No, not a superhero suit, but a proper tuxedo. "I have to tell you a secret," He started.

"And what is that?" You flaunted, crossing your arms and raising an eyebrow. "Do as we practiced," Loki demanded. Peter scrunched his nose and bent lower, looking you straight in the eye. You stood still, afraid to move a muscle. Was this charming boy, your Peter?

"You do know I'm the best secret keeper to ever exist. right?" You nervously bantered, a smile tugging at the edge of your face. "Promise not to tell anyone," He said breathily, his face meeting yours. You leant toward him, taking in the essence of his cologne. "I won't, promise," You whispered, dead serious. From across the line, Loki and Tony smirked deviously.

"You swear?" "I swear," "You really aren't going to tell anyone?" "Not a soul," "Not even your best friends, MJ or Betty?" "Just tell me already, you idiot!" You huffed.

Peter tilted his head and put and finger to your chin, raising it to meet his eyes. You stuck your tongue out playfully, rolling your eyes. Peter broke out from his sudden seriousness and laughed. You couldn't help but join in.

"Dude, what was that?" You wheezed incredulously.

"I'm sorry!" He cringed. He couldn't stop letting out loose laughter. Tony guffawed loudly from his end. Loki facepalmed at how badly his plan went.

The sight of you snickering hysterically, the light of the sun from the windows hitting you in such a way, that you looked ethereal, made his heart soar.

"I love you so much," Peter breathed out giddily. You paused, looking at him in awe.

"Petey," You mumbled in a small voice, "Did you just say you... you loved me?" "Uhhh-" Peter's face was beet red. He stammered gibberish and avoided your eye contact, when you pulled him toward you by the collar. You kissed him tenderly, and he felt extremely ambiguous from it. Your lips crashed against each other, locking into his. His entire body buzzed from the unexpected smooch. His cheeks were burning up, and his lungs clenched. You ran your fingers through his hair, messing it up. He rested a hand on your hip, pulling you against him. You wrapped your arms around his neck and grinned eagerly through the kiss. You broke free and saw his stunned expression, and let out a loose chuckle. He caressed your face gingerly.

"Took you long enough," a snarky remark escaped you. Loki and Tony smiled knowingly, realising what the long silence meant. "I love you too."

"You don't know how relieved I am to hear an oblivious idiot like you say that,"

Yes! I LOVE TOM'S PETER and suddenly all the Tom fics disappeared 😩😩😖😖

Ok I noticed when whenever I look up Peter Parker x reader no way home etc I see a lot andrew Garfield Peter which I don’t mind I adore him but aslo can I get more tom Holland ver of Peter as well please 😙😙😫

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"Vitamin Peter B Parker." 💖💖 I loved this 😂😂😂

pretty girl

synopsis: peter finds his way into your home and does something out of character, but it makes your heart soar.

pairing: peter parker x fem!reader

taglist: @sp1deys @inu1gf @stanmixtapes @wilczachannn @peterparkertheloml ( send an ask to be added! )

warnings: mildly injured peter parker, she/her pronouns used, LOTSA fluff!!!

author’s notes: i just hit 200 followers!!! holy cow thank you so much !!!! <3 my requests are open!!! likes+comments+reblogs are always appreciated!! <3

y/n’s eyes widened, hearing the sound of someone shuffling around on the fire escape beside the window in her room. she stared at the window, trying to rationalise with herself. it wasn’t uncommon for peter to pay her visits late at night after he did his patrol, claiming something about having to know if ‘his favourite person was tucked in nicely’, despite y/n claiming she could tuck herself in perfectly fine, ‘nope! nothin’ beats the old peter parker burrito blanket special!’ he would say in return.

the window started to slide open, y/n’s nerves easing as she saw the red and blue suit slowly roll through the window and dropping to the ground with a thud.

“peter what the fuck! i said be quiet when you do this!” y/n scolded him, keeping her voice quiet, but the tone harsh. obviously, she wasn’t actually mad at peter, but he was both risking her parents catching him and finding out he is spiderman.

“sorry,” he giggled getting up on his feet, a goofy grin on his face.

“hey, hey, c’mere..” y/n’s face softened, noticing a cut on his face, right across his cheekbone. she sat up and peter sat right in front of her, still smiling, “what happened?”

her hands went up to his face, cupping his cheeks gently, “i’m okay, just some drunk guy with a knife is all, you should’ve seen him, he was like swish fshh woosh, but then i was like fwip sheew pow.”

“i’m sure you were great out there, bug boy,” y/n laughed, walking over to her dresser and searching for the clothes he left there. once, she found a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt, she threw them behind her.

“ow.”

y/n turned around to look at peter with the items of clothing over his head, “you can dodge bullets, but not clothes?”

“it’s- it’s complicated..” he smiled, removing the clothes from his face and standing up to get changed. his hand pressed down on the spider symbol branded on the chest of his suit and at an instant the suit fell down his body and he was left in his boxers.

“really? you wear your face on your boxers?” y/n raised an eyebrow at him.

“technically the mask isn’t my face.” peter covered his boxers with his t-shirt, his face red from embarrassment.

“i think it’s cute, maybe i can get a matching pair,” y/n chuckled grabbing a wet wipe from her dresser to clean up his face, waiting for him to get dressed. peter smiled to himself as he got changed, the idea of his girlfriend wearing merch of him making him all giddy inside.

“finally… bed time,” peter sighed, letting himself fall back onto the bed, smiling at y/n.

“did you hit your head why are you looking at me like that?” y/n smiled, laughing a little bit at his facial expression. he looked like a little puppy staring at his best friend in the world.

“missed you a lot, pretty girl.”

y/n’s eyes widened and she froze, just staring at peter, “are you sure you didn’t hit your head?”

peter just frowned dramatically at her, reaching his arms out and acting like if she didn’t join him in bed in the next three seconds he would just combust into flames. y/n rolled her eyes and got into bed with him, making sure to clean his face off before they cuddled. she held his face gently and as carefully as she could, she cleaned the dried blood off his face and cleaned the cut. even though she knew it would be gone in the morning, it was still hard to see the man she was so in love with getting hurt night after night.

“what’s on your mind, pretty girl?”

there it was again. that nickname. it sent butterflies straight to her stomach.

“oh, the usual - y’know, my very adorable boyfriend but his side hustle as bug man always getting him hurt,” y/n chuckled, throwing the wet wipe away and quickly planting a kiss on peter’s cheek, just under the cut to make sure that she didn’t hurt him.

“c’mere,” he mumbled grabbing y/n by the waist and pulling her on top of him. she smiled and wrapped her arms around his neck and looked up at him.

“there’s my pretty girl.”

it wasn’t that peter didn’t compliment y/n - oh, he did. a lot. but nicknames was something he never did, he wanted to of course, but he was just awkward and it never felt natural to him. but boy did it make y/n’s heart soar to hear the nickname ‘pretty girl’ coming from him.

“what’s with the nickname?” y/n laughed softly.

“what? you don’t like it?” he raised an eyebrow, he didn’t want her to be uncomfortable at all.

“no, no, i like it. i really like it,” y/n admitted, feeling slightly flustered, “i’ve just never heard you call me that.”

peter smiled, pulling her closer to him, “i just want you to know how pretty you are… you are so pretty.”

y/n knew he was sleepy, he usually got very sappy and sweet at bedtime, “and you, peter parker, are even prettier.”

he scrunched up his nose as she kissed his chin and laughed quietly, “i don’t think so, you can’t say that when i have the prettiest girl in new york in my arms.”

“just in new york?” y/n teased.

“in the world- no! in the universe!”

“you are so cute,” y/n chuckled, hiding her face in his chest.

“i love you, y/n… so much,” he sighed, his hands moving up from her waist to her back, “i am deeply in love with you, sometimes it’s distracting, but that’s good, because while i’m out spidermaning i have my pretty girl here waiting for me all pretty in her pyjamas.”

“you’re such a sap, i love you peter.”

“the avengers banned me from talking about you, said i can’t talk about you unless they meet you,” he laughed.

“they want to meet me?” y/n’s eyes widened.

“who wouldn’t want to meet you?” peter smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling at how widely he was smiling.

“maybe one day, but right now you better sleep, i’m lacking vitamin b.”

“what?”

“vitamin peter b parker.”

“that was awful, y/n.”

“at least i’m pretty, right?”

How to GENUINELY create an assumption without feeling like you’re lying to yourself/pretending/have to “convince” yourself. How to actually accept your desire as TRUE.

Please, please understand that an assumption isn't forced or something you have to "try" to believe because it's just something you accept as true without question. You don't wake up every day wondering if you have a name, if the sky is blue or if gravity works. You just know with certainty. That's how conscious manifestation works. You decide something IS true and of course it reflects like every other assumption. You need to ACTUALLY assume you have something to get it please don't pretend or hope. A real assumption isn't forced, it's something you accept as fact without needing proof. If you say you assumed something but then claim it didn't happen you didn't actually assume it lol. You either doubted it, contradicted it or held another assumption alongside it. You assuming is NOT a technique and it's not something you "do" to get something.

The reason some people treat creating an assumption like it's a technique is because they think if they repeat it enough their mind will suddenly be tricked into believing it. That's NOT how an assumption works. An assumption is just accepting something as fact. If you're trying to "convince" yourself you're admitting you don't actually accept it as true. Come on… your mind is not stupid. It knows when you're forcing something versus when you genuinely accept it as reality (assume it). You need to be so certain that questioning isn't even an option and idc if other people disagree because who questions an assumption? An assumption is something you accept as true without proof go search it up. You must stay firm. It's not hoping, testing or checking for results it's about knowing aka accepting it as a fact. When you truly assume something it becomes your reality instantly. Reality will always reflect your truth.

So how do you truly accept something as true? It's actually simple but people overlook because they think taking time to face what's holding them down will waste their time. It's better to find out why you're finding it difficult and address it instead of staying stuck in a loop forever.

You need to find out what is preventing you from accepting your own word as the truth. Why don't you trust your own word as a fact? If you tell yourself "I have my desire" but deep down you're doubting or waiting or looking for proof then ask yourself "why don't I trust myself?" What thoughts are making you second guess your own reality? Is it because you're treating the physical world as more real than your own assumptions? Is it because you think that the physical world is the reason why you think you don't have what you want, when in reality it's because you assumed it first for it to reflect? Did you forget that reality is a mirror of your assumptions? Could it be you're looking at your circumstances and saying ughhh this is what's happening instead of actually understanding that what's happening is just a reflection of what you have been assuming up until this moment? Or maybe you've placed your power outside of yourself right? You believe circumstances or external factors hold weight in your manifestation rather than realising that NOTHING is set in stone and the only thing dictating your reality is your current assumption right? Maybe you think you have to do something and this is far too simple?

Figure it out and actually just spend time with yourself to pin point where you are struggling. Stop running away from your problems and address the reason why you can't accept your word as the truth. Remind yourself of the basics of the Law if you need to.

Now ask yourself what are you ACTUALLY assuming? Look at you telling yourself "Oh I'm affirming for my SP" and that being reflected back: you affirming for your SP. Look at you treating the concept of "just decide" like another method or technique to get to your desire and that being reflected in your reality: you in the process of using "just decide" like a technique to manifest. See how perfect the Law is? It's reflecting exactly what you're assuming. You're seeing your assumptions play out exactly as they are because manifestation is always based on what you're ACTUALLY assuming. You're STILL giving options to reality when there are no options… it's only what you say it is. As soon as you drop the debate you have with yourself in your mind and stop entertaining opposing thoughts you'll see how easy it is. You don't argue with yourself about basic facts of your life do you? You just accept them as true. That's exactly how you need to see your assumptions. Yes you need to be that certain and firm.

I PROMISE you the "key" everyone talks about to getting what you want… repeat with me… is to decide once and for all that it's done and that's it. Just accept it as true. Please just say f*ck all and accept it as true. What will you lose? Just do it.

💖💖💖

The Disappearing Act

Peter Parker x Teen!Female!Reader

What’s a hero without a villain? The early-days of “Spider-Man” come to light as he fights off his very first foe, a girl with the ability to disappear.

Peter didn’t know what to do anymore.

How was he supposed to fight someone he couldn’t see? He was punching blind, running into dark alleys with no real sense of direction. He could hear her laugh, cackle, tease and taunt from all directions, and it made him feel weak.

What was he thinking? Was he truly ready to fight against a world crawling with evil? This girl wasn’t even the full strength that the Avengers had ever fought off, yet he was incapable of laying a single finger on her. He’d only ever caught a glimpse of her face, but even that wasn’t enough to identify her.

“What’s wrong, Spider-Boy? Have you given up already?~”

Peter’s face twisted into a deep frown. His emotions were bubbling away; conflicted between continuing with the facade of confidence and determination, or breaking into an obvious frustration and scream out loud. He couldn’t keep chasing after an enemy he couldn’t physically see.

What was he supposed to do?

There was a pause of silence; it felt so thick that Peter found it hard to breathe. The cold night air tickled his cheeks through the knitted fibres of his mask, making him feel slightly numb. He tried to conceal a shiver by roughly looking around, but it only caused him to strain and pull a muscle. How awkward.

Then, Peter heard a sigh from the left. Somewhere above him, hiding on the fire escape that lead into a closed-down restaurant. “Come on, I’m getting bored. Do a flip or something.”

“Is that why you’re doing all this?” Peter shouted, his eyes squinting and searching the darkness for some sort of movement. He could hear the faint creaks and squeaks of the rusted metal, the structure groaning under the added pressure of this strange girl. It was an old building, so no doubt the fire escape hadn’t been checked for safety in a long time.

“Hm?” A pause of quiet again. A moment to breathe. A moment to observe. “Doing what?”

Peter watched as something shuffled forwards, a fabric of sorts nearing into the light. Thank God the city had street lights that reflected far and wide, even if it was dim, it gave him enough of a spotlight to catch sight of something. He knew she was crouched above him, possibly holding onto the rail.

If he could get a clear enough shot to web her to the wall…

“Breaking into places… is it because you’re bored?” Peter knew he needed to drag out a conversation, long enough to keep this girl distracted. The longer she stayed engaged in a conversation, the better chance he had at succeeding. That’s how the hero’s in movies did this type of stuff, right? Through distraction?

The girl laughed; it was a light laugh that echoed through the narrow alley, and it sounded sincere. “And why do you chase after me, Spider-Boy? Have you also succumbed to boredom?”

There was another shuffle, and soon enough a hand broke through the darkness. Slim fingers wrapped around the metal railing, gripping tight. Peter felt his heart skip a beat in excitement, his breath hitched inside his throat as he quickly extended an arm and aimed at the limb.

A web shot out, shooting through the darkness and towards its target.

Bullseye.

“What… ew, gross!”

Peter wasted no more time as he sprung into action. He leapt upwards and grasped the bottom of the ladder, hastily hoisting himself onto the first platform. The structure shuddered under his weight, but he ignored the way it practically shivered. He twisted his body around and jumped onto the railing, using it as a boost up to the second level.

He listened closely to the sound of his target grunting and whining in disgust and frustration; she was tugging and pulling at the webbing, but Peter was positive it’d stay sticky long enough for him to capture her properly.

Peter flipped up to the third and final level, his feet planting firmly. He turned his eyes towards the girl on her knees, one hand glued to the railing and the other desperately clawing at the web. Her panic increased as he neared closer, close enough to kneel beside her.

He did it.

“Not so smug now, are you?” Peter muttered, a satisfied grin breaking across his face. Now that he was looking closer, he could finally see her facial features better.

And damn, she was beautiful.

A murderous glare twisted across her face, eyes so sharp it could slice Peter into millions of pieces. She looked almost feral, unafraid to cut a bitch. “What the fuck is this made out of?” She questioned lowly, her voice on the verge of a growl.

Peter looked between the webbing and her. “Just… just some stuff I made.”

“Good to know it’s not coming out of you.” Her eyes drifted back to the alley, looking almost distant.

Quiet fell among the two, and Peter suddenly felt awkward. Now that he had captured this girl, after a few days of zero sleep and intricate trap designs (which wasn’t actually very detailed), Peter didn’t know who he was supposed to hand the girl over to.

The police? No, Peter had dropped hints to them on multiple occasions. It was because of their lack of interest that Peter had involved himself so quickly. This girl had broken into many establishments without leaving a single trace, or a single clue as to how she had done it. She was skilled, too clever for the police.

The Avengers? That just felt too extreme. They dealt with “end-of-the-world” business, not petty thieving.

Then again, this wasn’t petty thieving…

“Why are you just sitting there?”

Peter’s attention snapped back to the girl, his stomach twisting with butterflies at the intense eye-contact. Her nose scrunched slightly.

“I—uh, what?” He stammered.

The girl rolled her eyes. “You caught me, so why are you just sitting there? Aren’t you going to hand me over to the police or something?”

So it was obvious that Peter didn’t know what to do. Perhaps if he contacted the police then they’d know some sort of special forces that could contain this girl properly? Right, that seemed like a more reasonable option.

There was no way that humans with incredible gifts were making appearances all over the country and the government weren’t creating a containment plan. They constantly had backup plans.

“I, yeah, no, I was totally about to contact the police,” Peter confirmed. He stood to his full high and shuffled back, digging his hand into his pocket and pulling out his phone. He unlocked it and skimmed towards the dial pad and held the device to his ear, listening to the dial tone briefly.

Peter only looked away for a second, but when his eyes landed on the exact same spot as the girl had previously been sitting, he came to the indescribable horror that she was gone.

Peter ended the call with zero hesitation, a string of swears leaving his lips as his eyes darted around the area.

Where did she go?

A sharp whistle drew his attention further up the building. Leaning over the edge, waving playfully and shooting Peter a small wink, the girl flaunted her freedom.

“That was fun, we should do this again sometime!” She hollered loudly. “See you around, Spidey!”

And with Peter’s intense gaze glued to her form, he watched as she vanished before his very eyes. She just disappeared, no warning, no aftermath; just gone.

Peter stood rather dumbfounded for a minute longer, allowing time to process what had transpired. He was so close. Why had he hesitated in contacting the police? If he had been just slightly more efficient in his motive, then he would have surely been successful. Right?

But this wouldn’t be his final encounter with this girl. He knew they’d meet again.