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pairing: peter parker x fem!avenger!reader

content/tags: peter helps you settle after a tough mission, mentions of blood, he helps bathe you (☹️), hurt/comfort, cuddling, fluffy as can be!!

wc: 954

a/n: this is my favourite thing i’ve written so far, i love soft peter. it consumes my whole brain. i imagined this happening in the avengers tower btw!

peter’s voice was soft, calling your name to signal the bathroom was ready. gritting your teeth, you pushed off the mattress, the swift movement sending a sharp pain coursing through your side. “hey, take it easy," peter murmured, his hand hovering near your elbow, ready to support you the moment you reached the en-suite.

"i’m fine, pete," you tried to convince him, as you reached for the hem of your suit. the fabric was caked with dried blood and torn in numerous places, letting the gashes and bruises on your skin peep through.

"no, you aren't. that’s why i’m here.” peter’s voice was firm. “let me help you, y/n.” as a response, you simply stepped back and lifted your arms, indicating he could finish taking off your gear.

peter’s fingers hooked into the collar of your suit, carefully easing the fabric down your shoulders to avoid catching on your grazes. you leaned on him for balance as you stepped out of the mess, kicking the bloodied cloth into the corner. the confidence in peter’s hands vanished when he realised you remained in only a black sports-bra and a matching pair of spandex shorts.

he cleared his throat, gaze snapping to the wall. "you, uh... you can handle the rest.” a tired chuckle escaped you at the sight of his blush. “just close your eyes.”

navigating the last of your clothes with a wince, you eased into the steaming tub — the soak instantly melting the sharp ache in your limbs. once settled deep in the bubbles, you let out a long, shaky exhale. “okay. you can look.”

still a dark shade of crimson, peter knelt by the tub and reached for your strawberry-scented shampoo. a quiet “thank you for doing this” left your lips, making peter pause, his fingers hovering over the lid of the bottle. “always,” he murmured. his voice was steady despite the flush now staining his neck. “you don't ever have to thank me for that.”

the tension in your shoulders dissolved when he leaned forward, his fingers finally meeting your scalp and lathering the shampoo with a soft pressure. he worked in silence for a long time, his movements incredibly careful as he tried not to hurt you any further. once the soap was rinsed away, he picked up a washcloth, soaking it in the warm, lavender-scented water.

“i’m just... i’ll help with the parts that are hard to reach,” he murmured. he wiped the dried blood and grime from your shoulders and the small of your back with a gentleness that made your own cheeks stain red. after a final, lingering pass over your side, peter set the cloth down and stood up, clearing his throat.

“i’ll wait in the bedroom so you can finish off,” he said, ears still tinged pink. “just shout if you need anything.”

you finished the rest as best as you could, the reality of your exhaustion beginning to set in. when you finally managed to drain the tub and stand up, you realised that you had left your towel in your room, obviously out of reach. “peter?” you called out, your voice sounding small. “can you come back? i forgot my towel.”

a beat of silence followed before the door cracked open. “my eyes are closed!” he promised, his hand reaching blindly through the gap with a fluffy white towel clutched in his fist. you took it from him, wrapping yourself up before retreating to your bedroom.

when you returned, your room was empty. assuming peter had left to take a shower of his own, you pulled on some sleep-shorts and an oversized hoodie. by the time he returned, you were already tucked under the duvet, your eyes heavy and half-asleep.

“peter?” you mumbled, reaching out blindly in the dark. you felt the mattress dip as he sat at the edge of the bed, “you okay? i just wanted to make sure you were asleep.”

“stay,” you whispered. you hadn't meant for it to sound like such a plea, but you were so exhausted that you couldn’t bare to feel shame.

peter knew not to ask why. he just rounded the bed and climbed in beside you, the duvet lifting as he settled into place. “always,” he breathed, his voice a low murmur next to your ear. his breath ghosted over the back of your neck, making the tiny hairs there stand on end as he tucked himself against you. “i’m not going anywhere, i promise.”

he reached out, his arm wrapping around your waist, hand grabbing yours. “you’re shaking,” he noted softly. he didn’t push for details or ask how you were feeling —instead, he just let his thumb trace circles on your knuckles in small, steady motion that made your throat feel tight.

you shifted, turning just enough to see the sharp line of his jaw against the faint light of the city in your window. “please... don't leave,” you breathed, the words barely audible.

peter looked down, his brown-doe eyes searching for yours in the shadows. he reached out, his thumb catching a stray, damp strand of hair and tucking it carefully behind your ear. “i’m not losing you. not to anything. you hear me?”

you nodded weakly, the exhaustion finally beating you as your eyes slipped shut. “hear you loud and clear, bug.”

“good,” he whispered. he leaned down, pressing a quiet, lingering kiss to the top of your head, the scent of your strawberry shampoo filling his lungs. “go to sleep. i’ll be here when you wake up.”

“promise?” you mumbled, your voice already trailing off into the dark.

pairing: peter parker x reader

content/tags: academic rivals to lovers, kissing, fluff, study dates! peter is your tutor

wc: 4.7k

a/n: i might make a part two as i feel the ending is rushed (not proofread)

⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨ᰔ୧₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹

your arch-enemy.

peter parker.

peter is your biggest competitor in everything: science, math, english. the list is endless. everything academic somehow turns into an unspoken competition between you and him.

you sink into your seat with a small sigh, fingers tapping lightly against the desk. today’s the day you get your chemistry test back - your worst subject, and, unfortunately, peter’s best.

you already know you failed. you felt it the moment you walked up to the teacher’s desk to hand it in.

a buzz fills the classroom as your teacher starts passing tests out. you watch as peter - who sits in front of you - takes his paper back, scanning it for barely a second before his face lights up.

of course.

you drop your gaze just as your teacher reaches your desk, placing your test face down without a word.

before you can even muster the courage to flip it over, peter turns around in his seat, glowing. you meet his look with a flat expression.

“so, y/n… what’d you get?” he asks.

you blink at him. “why would i tell you?”

he shrugs, the smile still lingering. “well, my aunt wants me to start tutoring… and i know you kinda struggle with chemistry,” he finishes, a little softer, like he suddenly realises how that might come across.

you raise an eyebrow, finally flipping your paper over.

a solid, unmistakable d stares back at you.

you don’t react at first, just stare at it hoping it’ll magically change if you look long enough.

you can feel peter’s eyes on you. his expression was curious, maybe even dotted with a touch of concern.

you sigh and lean back on your plastic stool. “let me guess,” you mutter, “you got an a. again.”

there’s a pause.

“…a+,” he admits, sheepisly.

you let out a short, humourless laugh. “of course you did. why wouldn’t you?”

peter winces slightly. “hey, y/n, it’s not - i mean, i studied a lot for this.”

“really?” you shoot back. “i studied too, and look where that got me.”

you tap the paper with your pen, the cap resting between your lips.

then, quietly, “that’s why i offered to help you.”

you narrow your eyes at him. “help, or do you mean gloat parker?”

his head snaps up. “what? no! i’m not gloating - i don’t -“ he exhales, running a hand through his curls. “i’m not trying to make you feel bad, okay? i just thought… i don’t know. you seem like you struggle in this class.”

that catches you off guard.

you cross your arms, while studying him carefully. “…you’re serious.”

“yeah,” he says, meeting your gaze. “i am.”

you glance back down at your test, then gesture at it. “…you think you can fix this?” you ask, half-challenging.

a small smile tugs at his lips. “i know i can.”

“…fine,” you mumble at last.

peter blinks. “wait, really?”

“don’t make it a big deal,” you mutter. “it’s just temporary. until i stop failing.”

“temporary,” he repeats, nodding. “got it.”

“if you tell anyone about this,” you add, pointing your pen at him, “i will ruin your life, parker.”

he raises his hands in surrender, still smiling. “your secret’s safe with me.”

you wonder if you’d regret your decision as the bell rings, people start packing up, chairs scrape loudly against the floor and conversations spill out into the hallway.

you don’t look at peter when you stand. not when you shove the crumpled test paper into your bag quickly. not even when you feel his gaze flicker toward you.

“wait,”

you look up, slower than needed, thinking if you stall long enough he’ll change his mind. peter’s already pulling a pen from behind his ear, flipping his notebook open before you can protest.

“what are you doing?” you ask, watching him scribble something down.

“just in case,” he says simply, that somehow explains what he’s doing.

peter checks the page once and slides his notebook toward you. you glance down, but you’re met with a phone number written neatly in the corner - a smiley face scribbled next to the last digit.

you look back up at him, brows knitting together. “really?”

he shrugs, he seems unsure in the gesture now that you’re looking at him. “you said it was temporary. this just makes it easier.”

“easier,” you echo flatly.

“yeah,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “so you don’t have to publicly admit you need help.”

you study him for a second, then huff quietly under your breath. “…that might be the smartest thing you’ve ever said.”

he lets out a small laugh. “i’ll take that.”

you tear the corner of the page neatly, folding it in half before slipping it into your bag. “this doesn’t mean i’m texting you.”

“you probably will,” he says, far too boldly.

you narrow your eyes at him. “you’re confident today.”

“i’m right a lot,” he shoots back.

you roll your eyes and turn away before he can catch the way your expression almost softens.

———

you don’t text him after school, or the next day. you tell yourself you don’t need to, that you’ll figure it out on your own. you are not about to rely on peter parker of all people.

the number stays in your bag, still folded neatly and untouched.

it’s late a few nights later when you finally give in. your room is dimly lit, your notes spread out haphazardly across your desk, the same question staring back at you. you’ve redone it three times now, and it’s mocking your stupidity.

you sigh, dragging a hand down your face before reaching into your backpack. the paper’s slightly creased when you unfold it, the ink a little smudged at the edge.

you stare at the number for a moment, then grab your phone.

you type in his number and then hesitate. you stare at your message for a second, then hit send before you can start to overthink it.

“parker. i need help”

his reply comes through quickly.

“no hello? i’m hurt.”

“what are you stuck on?”

you glance back down at your notes, the same problem sitting half-finished on the long page of questions. grabbing your phone, you snap a quick picture and send it without another message.

the typing dots appear almost instantly.

“you skipped a step”

you frown slightly, sitting up a little straighter when you look back at your paper.

“where??”

“second line. you didn’t balance the oxygen properly :)”

you squint at it, pencil already in hand as you go over the equation again. you erase it quickly, rewriting it the way peter advised. this time, the numbers actually line up.

“it worked”

there’s a brief pause this time before he replies.

“you were close!”

a slight smile graces your lips, he was trying to make you feel better about your failure.

“that actually helped”

“yeah? good”

setting your phone down for a moment, you look back at the rest of the worksheet. it doesn’t feel as impossible as it did ten minutes ago.

your phone buzzes again.

“send me the next one”

“you don’t have to”

“yeah, i do,” he replies. “you’re not failing the next test”

you don’t respond right away.

your pen taps lightly against the page.

“that’s enough for tonight” you type after a moment.

there’s a pause.

“okay”

“text me if you get stuck again”

“maybe,” you send back.

———

when you reach school the next morning, the midtown hallway is the same as always. your surroundings are crowded, loud, full of overlapping conversations and the slam of lockers. you move through it on autopilot, bag slung over your shoulder, headphones on, not paying attention to anything in particular.

you notice him before you even mean to.

peter’s walking toward you from the other end of the hall, weaving easily through the crowd, one hand casually hooked into his backpack strap. he looks up at the last second and catches your eye.

for a moment, it feels like he might say something. there’s a flicker of hesitation, his mouth parting just slightly, like he’s about to.

then he doesn’t.

and you don’t either.

you both just keep walking, brushing past each other like it didn’t happen.

———

as soon as you sat down at your lunch table, you knew betty was interested in your quiet demeanour. “okay,” the blonde says after a minute, leaning forward slightly, her tone already suspicious. “what’s going on?”

you don’t look up. “nothing.”

“right,” she says, clearly not buying it. “so we’re just going to ignore the fact that peter parker has been looking at you for the past five minutes?”

your fork pauses mid-air before you set it down carefully. “…he has not.”

betty raises an eyebrow, “he literally just did it again.”

you glance up before you can stop yourself.

he’s already looking away.

your gaze lingers for a second, then drops back to your tray. “coincidence.”

“mhm,” betty hums, unconvinced.

you push your food around your plate, trying to act nonchalant. “we had one conversation. that’s it.”

“one conversation,” your friend repeats you slowly, clear that she doesn’t believe a word you’ve said. “and now he’s staring at you across the cafeteria.”

you exhale through your nose. “he’s not staring.”

“you can keep telling yourself that, y/n,” betty says lightly.

you don’t respond to her. you also choose to not look up again either.

her words sit there. you try to ignore it - focus on your food, on the laughter around you, on anything that isn’t the fact that you’re suddenly very aware of where peter is sitting in the cafeteria.

“you’re thinking about it,” betty says after a minute, she was far too observant.

you glance at her. “i’m not.”

she smiles, like she’s already won the conversation. “you definitely are.”

you roll your eyes, pushing your tray forward slightly. “like i said, betty, it was one conversation.”

“and a number,” she adds.

you pause.

“how do you know that?”

“i see everything,” betty giggles lightly. then, after a second, “and ned.”

“oh. ned.”

“mhm,” she nods. “peter told him. ned told me of course, he’s so sweet.”

you stare at her. “you’re joking.”

she shrugs. “not really.”

you let out a quiet breath, dropping your gaze back to the same spot you’ve been staring at on the table for the last however long. “it is literally just tutoring.”

betty still is clearly entertained by your discomfort. “but you’re being weirdly secretive about it.”

you narrow your eyes slightly. “i’m not being secretive.”

“you kind of are,” she says. “you didn’t even mention it.”

“because it’s not a big deal,” you shoot back.

betty watches you with a knowing look. “right. not a big deal. just peter parker giving you his number and staring at you across the cafeteria.”

“and,” she adds, a little more lightly, “for someone who doesn’t care, you’ve spent this entire lunch avoiding looking in his direction.”

“i’m not avoiding.”

betty laughs. “sure you’re not.”

you don’t argue this time and betty pretends to let it go. you can easily tell she hasn’t. her eyes were warching you intensely, more than peter supposedly was at this point.

you exhale through your nose, grabbing your backpack as the bell rings. “there’s nothing to discuss.”

“right,” betty stands up opposite you. “because there’s nothing going on.”

———

in your next class, you find yourself noticing things you never did before. you swear it’s not intentional, but your attention keeps drifting back to peter parker without your permission.

you noticed the way he answers questions without hesitation, as if he already knows he’s right. the way he leans back in his chair when he’s thinking, pen tapping softly against the desk in a rhythm that somehow stands out against everything else in the classroom.

the way he doesn’t look at you.

not once.

it shouldn’t matter.

if anything, it’s what you wanted - no comments, no smug remarks, no turning around with that annoying smile.

your eyes flick up before you can stop yourself, just for a second. you look back down immediately, jaw tightening as you press your pen harder against the page of your notebook than necessary.

you force yourself to focus on your work, on your notes, on anything that isn’t the boy just a few feet in front of you.

but it keeps happening.

the way he laughs under his breath at something someone says. the way he plays with his hair. the way his handwriting looks when he passes a paper forward.

the bell rings before you realise how much time has passed. chairs scrape loudly against the floor, people already begin to pack up before the teacher can even finish speaking.

———

the rest of the day passes, but it lingers in a way you don’t appreciate. by the time you get home, you’re more tired than you should be, dropping your bag by your desk and throwing your shoes in the direction of your closet. you tell yourself you’ll start studying in a minute, but you don’t. you just sit there, staring at the page without anything really registering.

it’s quiet, and your mind keeps circling back to the same things. the hallway, lunch, class. it shouldn’t matter.

your phone buzzing pulls you out of your trance. you glance over, expecting a random meme from betty, but when you see his name, you hesitate for a second before unlocking it.

just a “hey”

you stare at the message briefly, then type back.

“hi”

“do you want something?”

there’s a short pause before he replies.

“i just wanted to ask how finishing the chemistry went”

you glance down at your notes, the unfinished question still sitting there.

“i haven’t finished”

“what about what you’ve done so far?”

you let out a quiet sigh under your breath.

“it hasn’t been the worst”

“good y/n”

peters words are simple, but it makes you stop for a second. you roll your pen between your fingers, looking back at the question in front of you, already feeling frustration creeping in.

your phone lights up again.

“so you still working on it now?”

you hesitate, then type back.

“yeah i am”

“stuck?”

“maybe a little”

the conversation flows easily after that. peter helps to point out the things you missed, nothing actually major, you don’t feel stupid for not seeing it the first time.

you find yourself actually understanding, fixing things properly instead of scribbling over them and hoping for the best.

“my aunt’s making me start actual tutoring sessions soon”

“and i’m your first victim?” you type back before you can stop yourself.

“i was gonna say ‘first student’ but that works”

you chuckle softly, shifting in your seat.

“same thing”

“not really”

there’s a slightly longer pause this time between messages, you can tell he’s thinking about how to word it.

“i was gonna ask if you wanted to just do it properly”

“like in person?”

you don’t answer straight away.

“you mean like tutoring tutoring”

“yeah”

“it might be easier than texting”

“and it would be good for my college application” he adds on.

it probably would be. that’s the annoying part.

“where and when”

“my place, i’m free tomorrow?”

“my aunt will be there, don’t worry”

you snort quietly at that.

“i wasn’t worried”

“sure”

you question your life choices before simply replying,

“i can be there at 4”

“but this is still temporary”

“btw send me ur address”

you then lock your phone, tossing it lightly onto your desk before not looking at it again.

———

the next day goes by in a blur.

you do the work, you answer when you have to, but none of the information really registers in your head. everything kind of blends together until the final bell brings you back into reality.

you pack up quickly, slipping your books into your bag and pulling it over your shoulder as you head out into the hallway with everyone else.

you almost make it to the doors before you hear his voice

“y/n.”

you don’t turn around right away, just slow slightly until he catches up beside you.

“you still coming over later?” peter asks, his voice careful.

you glance at him briefly. “yeah, why wouldn’t i?”

he nods, like he expected that, but still needed to hear it. “i just wanted to make sure”

there’s a small pause.

so, you keep walking.

“i’ll—uh, i’ll walk with you? to the gates.” he adds, awkwardly, it sounded to you he didn’t plan on saying that out loud.

you look at him again, more properly this time. “you don’t have to.”

“i know,” he says. “but i have to go that way anyway.” he shrugs, and you don’t say no.

peter walks next to you like it’s normal, acting as if you haven’t spent months treating each other as an unspoken rivalry.

you reach the front of the school without really noticing how fast you got there. you slow slightly, adjusting your bag on your shoulder as you step out with the crowd.

peter stays beside you.

he doesn’t say anything for a second, just walks with you until you’re past the gates, where the floods of students start to thin out.

then he stops.

you take another step before realising, turning back slightly. “uhm, bye peter”

“i’ll see you later,” he says, a little quieter now that it’s not surrounded by hallway noise.

“don’t be late,” he adds instead, a small smile pulling at his mouth.

“see you at four”

“four,” he repeats.

———

you don’t hesitate as long as you envisioned you would when you arrive at peter’s door. you knock lightly, shifting weight on the balls of your feet as you wait.

the door opens. but it’s not peter.

“oh,” she says, surprised for only a second before her expression turns into warm smile. “you must be y/n.”

you blink, a little thrown off her. “uh, yeah i am”

“i’m may,” she says, smiling again as she steps back to let you in. “peter’s aunt. he told me you were coming.”

you nod, stepping inside. “yeah, we - um. tutoring.”

“he’s in his room. peter!” she calls over her shoulder. “you have company!”

there’s a muffled noise from somewhere down the hall - something clatters, followed by a rushed, “what? oh okay!”

“make yourself at home,” she says. “he’ll be here in a second.”

you shift on your feet again, standing a probably really awkwardly for a moment.

and, then , peter appears, slightly out of breath. “hey, y/n,” he says, a shy smile pulling at his lips.

you tilt your head. “long time no see, peter.”

he manages a soft laugh, running a hand through his hair - a habit of his you’ve noticed. “yeah, it’s been… what, an hour?”

“felt longer,” you reply easily.

his smile lingers, “come on,” he says, stepping back and gesturing down the hall.

you follow him, glancing around briefly as you walk. his apartment is nice, homely.

“my room’s this way,” he adds, a little quieter. you trail after him until he pushes the door open and steps aside for you to enter first.

you walk in, taking it in without trying to be obvious. it’s what you’d expect from peter. messy, but not in a gross way. papers, books, random parts of devices you don’t recognise.

you set your bag down near his desk, leaning against it slightly. “so,” you say, glancing over at him, “this is where the magic happens?”

“yeah. something like that.”

peter lingers by the door for a second before shutting it quickly, then shuffles past you, clearing a space on his desk in one quick motion, stacking papers that didn’t really need moving in the first place.

“ignore the mess,” he says.

“i wasn’t judging,” you reply, even though your eyes flick around the room anyway.

he pulls his chair out, then pauses, glancing at you. “you can sit. i’ll just…” he gestures vaguely toward the edge of the bed.

you raise an eyebrow. “kicking yourself out of your own chair?”

“i’m being a good tutor.”

“right.”

you sit anyway.

he drops onto the edge of the bed, leaning forward, elbows on his knees, hands loosely clasped.

“soo,” he says, a little quieter, “chemistry.”

you sigh but pull your notebook out, flipping it open and turning it to face his direction. “i couldn’t figure out this one.”

he gets up without thinking about, stepping closer to the desk, leaning in beside you.

closer than he probably needs to be.

his hand reaches past you to study the page, fingers brushing lightly against yours for half a second. you believe it was probably accidental, unnoticed by him.

neither of you say anything.

“you skipped this part,” he murmurs, his voice lowered, clear he was focused.

“i didn’t skip it,” you say quietly. “i just didn’t get it.”

“yeah,” he says, still close, still not stepping back. “i can tell.”

you exhale softly through your nose, trying to focus on the page instead of how close he is. “then help me fix it,”

he chuckles quietly, shifting just enough that his shoulder brushes yours as he rewrites part of the problem.

“bossy,” he mutters.

“i’m just good at convincing,” you correct.

“debatable,” peter smiles.

“y/n, i’ve noticed you keep doing this thing,” he says, nodding towards your work. “you get close, but you stop with the question halfway through.”

you glance up at him. “i don’t stop. i just - get stuck.”

“same difference.”

“not really.”

he lets out a small laugh again, shaking his head.

“try this one,” he says after a second, stepping back just enough to give you space to work independently.

you take the pen, fingers brushing his again as you do.

this time, neither of you pull away quickly.

you write it out slower. you can feel him there, just to your side, watching you work.

“that’s it,” he says, softer. “see? you’ve got it.”

you glance up at him again. “don’t get used to it.”

he smiles. “too late.”

and when you both reach for the notebook at the same time, your hands knock together again, lingering just a second longer before either of you move.

you go through another question, then another. less talking now, just small corrections, quiet comments, the occasional “wait” or “no, that’s right” from him.

when you finally drop your pen, you lean back slightly, from habit, forgetting that he was right behind you somehow.

“okay,” you say. “that’s enough.”

he nods, like he expected that. “yeah.”

you begin to get up, reaching for your bag.

peter grabs it before you, you mumble a quick “thanks”, before he guides you out his bedroom.

you follow him out, the quiet from his room giving way to the softer, lived-in sounds of the apartment again. voices from the tv, something clinking faintly in the kitchen.

“leaving already?” may calls, stepping into the hallway with that same easy smile.

you glance over. “yeah, i didn’t want to overstay my welcome.”

“nonsense,” she says lightly. “you’re welcome anytime.”

you nod, trying to be as polite as possible. “thank you, mrs parker”

she looks between you and peter for a second, then smiles again. “call me may, sweetie, and get home safe, okay?”

peter’s already reaching for the door. “i’ll walk you.”

“you don’t have to.”

“i know”

you don’t argue.

you don’t talk much on the walk home. a few comments and small jokes here and there, nothing that really matters. you felt it becoming actually quite natural.

when you reach your block, you slow down, adjusting your bag slightly.

“this is my street,” you say.

neither of you move right away.

“thank you, peter, for the help and uh- walking me home,” you add, a little quieter.

“anytime.”

you hesitate for half a second, then lean in and press a light kiss to his cheek.

“bye, parker,” you smile.

you don’t wait for a reaction. you turn and head inside, slamming the door behind you before you can see his flustered expression.

———

you hear about it the next day.

“so?” betty says immediately, sliding into the seat next to you like she’s been waiting all morning. “how was your little study date?”

“it wasn’t a date,” you say flatly.

“right, so how was it?”

you shrug, pretending to focus on trying to find something in your bag. “fine. he helped. that’s it.”

she watches you for a second too long. “just fine?”

“yes, betty. just fine.”

she smiles again like she doesn’t believe you for a second. “mhm.”

you ignore her.

but you can feel it again - that same lingering feeling from yesterday, sitting deep in your stomach.

———

the tutoring stops feeling temporary a lot faster than you expect. what starts as “just chemistry” turns into a weekly routine. long afternoons are spent at peter’s desk, conversations drifting further from work and into whatever you can think of.

the tension between you continues to grow in small, quiet ways: him grabbing your hand to lead you to his room, the way your back brushes against his chest when you’re sat at his desk, you can feel he watches you attentively.

you constantly have to remind yourself it’s for the grades, even when you start to understand the problems without his assistance.

then one day, somewhere between a half-finished problem and a distracted laugh, it comes to a head. you’re both leaning over the same page, close as usual. when you catch his eyes, neither of you look away this time.

the silence in the room feels heavier than before. peter’s eyes flick down to your lips, and that’s all it takes.

you push up slightly and press your lips against his. peter immediately reciprocates. your hands wrap around his neck, trying to make the awkward position where your smushed against his desk work. peter notices your discomfort and pulls you up with no effort.

his hands settle on your waist, firm but not harsh, just keeping you close as you shift into him. your fingers curl in his hair, and he exhales quietly against your lips. one of his hands moves, thumb brushing lightly in circles against your side.

the kiss slows, not because you want it to, but because you’re running out of breath.

you pull back slightly, just enough to look at him.

“we’re getting distracted,” you murmur, voice uneven.

his lips twitch. “i was about to say the same thing.”

you raise an eyebrow. “i’m not the one who’s supposed to be tutoring.”

“yeah,” he says, glancing briefly at the abandoned notebook before looking back at you. “i think we’ve moved a little past that.”

your fingers loosen slightly in his curls, though you don’t pull away completely. “i’m not complaining.”

“neither am i,” he replies, a smirk tugging at his mouth.

his thumb brushes your side again, absentminded this time.

“kiss me again, peter,” you breathe.

“yeah?” he asks, softer now.

you hold his gaze. “please.”

peter’s hand tightens slightly on your waist as he leans in again, more confident this time.

your fingers slide back into his hair without thinking. he makes a quiet sound against your lips, and it sends warmth straight through you.

“y/n,” he murmurs between kisses, breathing heavily against you, “this is… really bad tutoring.”

you huff softly, barely pulling back. “you’re the one in charge.”

pairing: peter parker x fem!reader

summary: you and peter are forced into close proximity during a mission, things escalate

tags: fluff, kissing, whole lotta tension, close proximity, reader is also a superhero

a/n: hiiii if anyone sees this! this is my first fanfic, so i’d appreciate any feedback :p i imagined tom’s peter while writing but any one works

wc: approx 800

⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨ᰔ୧₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹

peter’s body was pressed up against your own, causing your masked cheek to be squished against cold brick. “just a tip, bug, warn me next time before you shove me into a wall,” you mumble, voice barely above a whisper.

“well, it’s either this or we get jumped by five guys with alien weapons,” peter whispers back, his arm bracing beside your head, caging you in fully.

“why couldn’t we have just…” inhaling softly, “swung away? considering we literally have the ability to do that,” you continue to complain.

peter immediately slaps a gloved hand over your mouth, edging somehow even closer than before. “stop whining. they’re gonna hear you, y/n.”

you huff against his large palm but decide to become silent. the only sounds you could focus on becoming the low schemes of the nearby criminals and peter’s breathing, shaky against your ear.

you can feel him, he’s holding himself completely still. there’s barely any space left between you, one hand was still covering your mouth, and hole the other braced beside your head, pinned in place.

the noise fades, voices start to drift further and further out. the danger feels distant now, like it’s happening someplace else entirely.

peter’s hand slowly drops.

“they’re leaving,” you murmur, as softly as you can muster.

“yeah,” peter agrees, he doesn’t sound like that matters anymore.

you finally manage a full breath in, turning your head slightly to look at his masked-face properly.

peter’s already looking at you.

he’s very close.

way too close for your usual comfort.

your breath catches and it feels so loud in your chest. for a second, neither of you say anything.

“we should probably move,” you whisper.

“probably,” he echoes your words, but there’s no effort of movement behind it.

you don’t make a move to leave the alleyway either.

your hand lifts without thinking, resting against the spider emblem on his chest. it’s a gentle touch, barely anything, but it’s enough to indicate the tension in the air. peter’s gaze drops to where your hand is, then drags back up to your face.

his fingers lift to your jaw, slowly and carefully, giving you time to stop him.

“peter…” you start again, quieter now, weary even uttering his name could break the moment.

“y/n,” he breathes, but he doesn’t sound certain. he sounds like he’s trying to convince himself that this is really happening.

hesitantly, he lifts your mask just enough to reveal your face, the tip of your nose, your lips. he pauses there, lingering, you both know crossing that line means something new for your relationship.

your grip tightens against his chest, pulling him closer.

peter’s now free hand drifts to his own mask. he lingers there longer this time, you wonder if maybe he’s considering stopping. but then he exhales, shaky, and pushes it up just enough to reveal his mouth, his strong jaw.

his breath ghosts over your glossed lips.

it’s noticeably uneven.

“do you want to-“ peter starts, his voice barely there.

you don’t let him finish the sentence.

you close the distance, pressing your lips to his in a manner that it seems you’ll lose your mind if you hesitate even a second.

for a split second, peter stills, your urgency shock him.

then he’s kissing you back.

his hand finds your waist almost desperately, pulling you close as humanely possible to make sure you’re still present, feeling you might disappear if he lets go. your fingers curl tighter into his suit, anchoring yourself to him as his chest rises sharply.

the kiss feels almost desperate, neither of you meant for this to happen, but now you can’t bring yourselves to stop now that it’s started.

it deepens slightly, still careful, still unsure.

for a moment, everything else disappears.

there was no alley, no voices and a forgotten mission.

just peter.

just this.

“y/n, they’re coming back-”

you both jerk apart, fumbling your masks back into place.

peter lets out an awkward laugh, it seems he doesn’t know how to deal with the aftermath of the kiss. “right,” he mutters, clearing his throat. “uh, the mission.”

“yeah… the mission,” you repeat, sounding noticeably off.

“we’ll.. talk about that?” he adds, but this time fails to meet your piercing gaze.

you hesitate, then begin nodding- even though he can’t see the full movement under your suit. “mhm,” you reply gently, but the response doesn’t sound certain.

neither of you seem mention how neither of you pulled away.