#tasm!peter fluff

moonlight - in which peter parker misses you like crazy, and decides to pay you a late night visit

mend - in which peter parker is hurt, and you're the only one who can mend him

skivers - in which peter comes up with a plan to get you out of class on the warmest day of the year

muse - in which peter parker is the perfect muse

tasm!peter parker x reader

summary- in which peter loves your new spider-man t-shirt

tags- established relationship, making out, lowk suggestive, fluff

word count- 1.2k+

a/n- not a big fan of this one, but thank you to the anon who gave me motivation to write this!! realistically I won't post again for a while but who knows, bnd might inspire me. taking requests!

The cafeteria line bustled with kids pushing to get their lunch. You and your friends had practically ran from your classes so you could get to your favourite lunch spot before anyone else. It was a table right in the corner of the room -- close to a window but far enough away from everyone else. You guys were very protective of your spot, and it felt weird to sit anywhere but on that little round table.

You bit into the wrap you packed early that morning, careful not to spill anything on your new shirt. Peter stood in the line across the room, waiting to order lunch. You waved mid-bite, no doubt looking like an idiot. Peter didn't seem to mind -- smiling and waving back. His eyes trailed down, catching on the Spider-man t-shirt you wore. The shirt had arrived in the mail after weeks of waiting, and you were excited to finally show it off at school. Peter's cheeks flushed red, flattered. He pointed at your shirt with a grin, and you scrunched your nose playfully at him, turning back to your friends. You wanted to surprise Peter with it, and his reaction was just as you expected. Flustered and adorable.

Just as if she had been reading your mind, your friend Max spoke up. "I love your shirt, it's so cute."

"Thanks! I've got a top with my favourite person on it now," you grinned, forcing yourself not to look over at the lunch line.

"Ohh, don't let Peter hear you say that," Jane laughed. Unbeknown to your friends, Peter had actually heard you say that. You knew he had. That's why you said it in the first place. His senses had been heightened ever since the bite, so he could hear pretty much anything and everything. You could practically see his ears prick up from across the room.

"Oh, I'm sure he wouldn't mind," you smirked. Peter hid his own smirk behind his hand.

"Oh my god!" Max exclaimed suddenly. Your heart dropped to your stomach. Fuck. Had you just blown Peter's cover? Maybe your hints weren't so subtle.

"What?!"

"Flash is wearing a Spider-man t-shirt."

"No fucking way," you said, jaw dropped. Your head whipped around the cafeteria, looking for Flash. You saw Peter doing the same. He was listening in to the conversation, so he heard the news as soon as you did.

There Flash was -- walking over to his friends wearing a red t-shirt with Spider-man's logo on it. Peter's logo. It was probably the last thing you expected to see today.

"You're matching with Flash!" Jane laughed in disbelief.

"No I'm not!" you cried. Flash's t-shirt was red. Yours was blue. And his one just had a spider on it, not Spider-man himself. They were completely different.

"This is fucking insane. Who would have thought Flash of all people would be wearing Spider-man merch?" Max gaped.

"I'm honestly not surprised. He's exactly the type of guy who would pretend to scale walls and shoot webs in his bedroom," Jane replied.

"You're so right, actually," Max laughed.

"Maybe Flash is Spider-man," you said. You looked at Peter, and he looked at you, aghast. You laughed into your shoulder at the look on his face.

"No, if he was, he'd be going around school bragging about it, not wearing some lousy t-shirt." Max shook her head.

"Yeah, he's too muscular to be Spider-man," Jane agreed.

You couldn't hold back your amusement at that, cackling loudly. A few heads turned, including Peter's. He didn't look very impressed.

"Poor Spider-man," you mused, focusing back on your food.

For the rest of lunch, you, Max, and Jane caught up on news you had missed over the weekend. Since the last time you saw each other, two people had unexpectedly gotten together, so you had a lot to debrief. You also talked about plans to study together after school. You guys had an important chemistry test soon, and you didn't want to go in feeling unprepared.

Peter was nowhere to be seen now, probably off studying in the library. Sometimes you sat together, but lunch had always been the designated time for you and your friends to gossip, and Peter didn't want to intrude. He preferred to walk you home from school and spend hours laying on your bed, watching movies or just simply listening to you talk. It was routine at this point.

So, not wanting to break routine, Peter came over after school that day. The two of you were lying on your bed, with Peter's head on your stomach and arms around your waist. You were preoccupied with updating your blog, absentmindedly running your fingers through Peter's hair. He was so quiet and still that you assumed he was asleep, until he said something out of the blue.

"I really like this shirt." His hand pressed flat against your stomach, thumb smoothing over the Spider-man design on the fabric.

"Yeah?" You replied, pushing away your laptop. "I thought you would."

"Is that why you got it?"

"Partially. And so I could have a little piece of you with me throughout the day."

Peter lifted his head slightly, looking at you with a sleepy, lopsided grin on his face. Your stomach flipped at the sight. You pressed a hand over your eyes so you didn't have to look at his butterfly-inducing face.

"Oh no. I think I better stop before your ego gets too big."

"No, no, no." Peter pushed himself up so he was hovering over you now. "Please don't stop."

You laughed, trying to hide your flushed cheeks by pressing your face into his arm, which bracketed your body. You froze when you felt his hand reach up and pull the collar of your shirt to the side. Slowly, he leaned down and kissed the curve of your shoulder. He made his way up, pressing feather-light kisses on your neck, your jaw, your cheek, the corner of your mouth. You watched as he did so, hand finding his neck when he finally pulled back. Not wanting him to be far, you immediately roped him back in by placing a kiss to his lips, sighing into his mouth. You took notice of the noises he made when you tugged on his hair, his desperation only making you deepen the kiss. Peter's fingers slipped beneath the hem of your shirt ever so slightly, making you shiver. His lips were soft, and his mouth moved in a way that proved he knew what he was doing.

Eventually, you had to pull back for air. Peter didn't move far though, your foreheads still touching and lips barely brushing.

"Maybe I should wear this shirt more often," you panted into his mouth.

"One hundred percent," Peter nodded, connecting your lips once again. His hand pressed against your ribs beneath the fabric, making it hard for you to think straight.

"Peter," you gasped softly.

"Hmm?" he hummed, barely pulling back.

"We should stop. Max and Jane will be here soon."

Peter groaned, dropping his head against your shoulder. You laughed at how pathetic he was being, lifting his chin so you could look at him properly.

"You're staying over tonight, right?"

"I am?" Peter perked up. You raised an eyebrow at him. "I am," he nodded firmly, smiling when he saw you laugh.

"Good. This," you pressed a kiss to his lips, "Will have to wait til later."

"Oh, of course," Peter nodded almost seriously, but you could see from the look on his face that he'd find a way to have his chin on your shoulder or arms around your waist while you studied. You weren't exactly opposed to the idea.

tasm!peter parker x reader

summary- in which peter parker is the perfect muse

tags- fluff, best friends to lovers, making out, artist!reader, muse!peter parker

word count- 1.4k+

a/n- the y/n l/n thing kinda ruins the vibe but I didn't know what else I could do I'm sorry 💔 also currently taking peter fic requests!!

The window was cracked wide open, casting a cool breeze on you and Peter. The sun was warm and golden, lighting the space comfortingly. Your back dug into the corner of the room as you sat on your bed, cushioned slightly by a thin pillow. Peter laid across from you, flipping through a random comic book he found on your floor. You filled out pages in your sketchbook as he did so, the both of you enjoying the peace together. Peter's hair was shiny and glowing in the sun, features illuminated. He looked so beautiful it was almost painful to lay your eyes on him. So, you turned your attention to something else.

With your sketchbook hidden behind your knees, you drew freely, lines fluid as you finished off one of the many drawings you had done that day. To begin with, you were drawing the view of the street outside. Then you moved onto sketching one of the many movie poster's on your wall. But at some point you stopped paying attention to what your hands were doing -- what you were creating. You just let it happen, and before you knew it, the page was filled with sketches of Peter. When you realised, you felt your entire body heat up. Somehow you were sure he would know what you were doing. But, of course, he didn't. He was absorbed in his comic book and not paying attention to anything else. So you let yourself continue. Every time he shifted positions, you'd draw it, shading and adding details that you couldn't help but notice. You always noticed even the smallest things about Peter. When you spent every moment with your best friend (and were hopelessly in love with him), that tended to happen. You could probably draw him with your eyes closed.

Just as you were ready to flip the page and begin a new piece, Peter looked up. His comic was closed. He must have finished it already.

"What are you drawing?" He asked, head laid on his outstretched arm. You wanted to tell him to stay in that position so you could add it to your sketchbook, so you could capture it and keep it forever. But you didn't think you could handle the embarrassment.

"Nothing," you said, laying down your pencil.

"You're lying. You've been drawing non-stop for like an hour."

"Wow, I didn't think you'd noticed with how absorbed in that comic you've been." You tried to twist the conversation on Peter, but knowing him it would come back around to you.

"Yeah, of course I noticed. So what were you drawing?" He rolled onto his stomach and rested his chin on his arms.

"Like I said--nothing."

"Liar," he grinned. "Is it me?"

You gaped at him, mouth opening and closing like a fish. You began laughing nervously, and you knew you were screwed. "No, dude," you choked out. "Why would I be drawing you?"

"You so were!" he laughed. "Let me see."

"No!" you exclaimed, trying to pull your sketchbook from his reach. You pinned it to your chest and Peter leaned over you, trying to pry it from your arms. You pushed and pulled with one another, Peter laughing loudly and in turn making you, too. Internally though, you were freaking out. Maybe he'd see the drawings from a platonic point of view. Not your 'I'm completely and utterly in love with you' point of view. Surely.

With Peter having super powers and whatnot, it didn't take long for him to grab the sketchbook. He held it in his hand, still hovering over you as the pages flipped open. His eyes flitted over the sketches of him, taking in the lines of his face and the attention you had paid to him. As you watched him, you could see his features change. His eyes softened, brows unfurrowed, jaw slackened. His fingers traced the pictures, admiring your work.

"You drew me," he murmured, as if he hadn't already come to that conclusion. As if it dawned on him that it wasn't a joke -- it was real. You drew him. When you lifted your head, your breath caught in your throat at how close he was. You tried to act like you weren't losing your mind.

"Yeah," you chuckled dryly. "You caught me."

Peter studied you, eyes raking over your face. You felt nervous beneath his gaze, faces inches apart. You'd never felt something like this with Peter before -- almost as if the air had shifted and something new had replaced it.

"Why?" he asked, so quiet you almost couldn't hear.

"I-I don't know why. I just thought..." You couldn't bring yourself to finish.

"What?" he urged in a whisper.

"I thought you looked too perfect not to draw," you admitted, throat dry and voice barely audible. Time seemed to stop as you waited for a reaction. Had you just screwed years worth of friendship up in a matter of seconds? No. Of course not. Peter wouldn't reject you. He'd just chuckle and say thank you, then go search your room for a new comic to read.

Instead, Peter's fingers brushed your neck as he reached to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear. You shuddered slightly, a shaky breath exhaled. His movements were hesitant and slow, like he knew what he wanted but was nervous to take it.

"You're perfect. Everything about you is perfect," he murmured, eyes dropping to your mouth.

"Oh, I don't know about--"

You were cut off quickly by Peter's lips against yours. At first he was soft and hesitant, almost as if he was waiting for you to pull away and reject him. Instead, you did the opposite. You sat up slightly, wrapping your arms around his neck so no distance remained. Sensing your eagerness, Peter deepened the kiss, tilting his head and brushing a thumb over your cheek. Your noses bumped against each others, and you pulled away slightly.

"Peter," you whispered.

"Hmm?" he hummed, slowly opening his eyes and looking at you as if in a daze.

"This is insane," you said, because it was. The amount of times you had imagined this happening was honestly embarrassing, and now that it finally was, you were trying not to lose your mind.

"Do you want to stop?" Peter asked, suddenly more alert.

You answered him by pressing a kiss to his soft lips, this time firmer and fiercer. It was desperate. A slight whine came from your throat as Peter slid his tongue over your lips, opening your mouth for him. Your arms were covered with goosebumps, and you weren't sure if you would experience something as perfect as this ever again. Peter's arms around your waist felt safe and familiar, providing a sense of comfort to you in the moment. You had never kissed someone before, and quite frankly you were scared to, but all the fear was wiped away when you realised this was Peter, that it was him who was holding you and making your chest feel all giddy. You tugged at each other's hair and gasped into each other's mouths, until eventually you had to part for air. Your chests heaved loudly. Glancing up to see each other in such a state made you and Peter laugh, full of a giddiness and excitement you hadn't felt so intensely before. Peter held your face in his hands and pressed your foreheads together, missing the closeness you had when you kissed.

"I'm so glad I did that," Peter told you breathlessly, the cutest grin on his face.

"I can't believe it was my shitty drawings that finally made you make a move," you laughed, and Peter pulled away, offended. His hands remained on your cheeks though, not wanting to lose contact.

"Your drawings are far from shitty. I love them."

"You know, I may or may not have a whole collection of very similar ones at home that you can have."

"Drawings of me?" Peter asked in surprise.

"Yes, dumbass, of you! I've drawn you more times than I can count!" It was true. Those ones definitely were shitty, considering you drew them from memory.

"I'm your muse, huh?" Peter gave you a lopsided grin that was impossible not to kiss. You gave him a quick peck before pulling back to speak.

"Yes, Peter, you're my muse."

At that, Peter pressed kisses all over your face. Your cheeks, your forehead, the corners of your mouth, until finally he stopped at your lips.

"I am in love with you, Y/n L/n," he murmured against them. "I always have been."

"And I'm in love with you, Peter Parker. Always have been."

Peter finally closed the gap, kissing you softly and sealing your words with a promise.

tasm!peter parker x reader

summary- in which peter parker is hurt, and you're the only one who can mend him

tags- fluff, angst??? ig???, hurt/comfort, cleaning wounds, established relationship

tw- mentions of blood/injury

word count- 1.2k+

When you heard the tap on your window, you weren’t surprised. You should have been scared shitless, considering it was nearly two in the morning, but there was only one person it could be. You'd been waiting for Peter to come. He was later than usual, but you were just glad he came at all. You placed down the book you had slowly been chipping away at, quickly adjusting your hair before rushing to the window. 

When you lifted the pane, you expected to see Peter's bright grin he usually greeted you with. Instead, you saw a face cut up and bloody, lip swollen and only giving you a tight smile. 

"Jesus, Peter. What happened?" you asked, stepping aside to let him in. He stumbled through the window, leaning against the wall to steady himself. Peter simply shook his head slightly -- code for I don't want to talk about it. You nodded at him, eyes worried. Usually he was chatty, even when he was injured. You didn't want to press however, so you headed over to your dresser. You knew he’d talk when he was ready.

"Here, change into these and meet me in the bathroom once you're ready," you said, handing him a stack of clothes. You had a collection of his sweatpants and shirts, so it wasn’t hard to find something that would fit.

"Thank you," he managed, wincing as he accepted them. You tried not to look too concerned as you headed into the bathroom. Peter didn't want you worrying about him. 

You grabbed the first aid kit that you bought just for Peter. He had come wandering into your room covered in gashes one too many times before. The bathroom light was yellow and a bit bright for your tired eyes. You could see your eye bags clearly in the mirror, dark and hollow. 

Footsteps padded across the tiled floor. You felt Peter's arms wrap around your waist, face burrowing in your neck. Instinctively you brought your hand up and ran it through his hair. Peter held you closer, a way of telling you not to stop.

"Are you okay, Peter?" you asked. "And please don't sugar coat it. I can tell something is wrong." More wrong than usual. 

Peter took a deep breath before he replied. "This guy is stronger than the other's. I barely fought him off tonight, and I just don't know if..."

You watched him through the mirror, saw the cuts on the side of his head, and couldn't imagine the pain he must have been in. Your vision began to blur. 

"I'm just so tired," he whispered, voice cracking. It took everything in you not to cry. Your voice was shaky as you spoke. 

"How about I disinfect your cuts, and then we can go to bed. We can even take the day off school tomorrow."

Peter lifted his head to look at you. "I thought your parents said--"

"Screw my parents. I want you to spend the night. I don't give a damn if they find out."

"Okay. Yeah, okay," Peter smiled slightly, pulling away to sit on the counter. You had your own little routine -- Peter sat on the counter, you in-between his legs as you cleaned his cuts.

Looking up at him now, you realised he didn't have a shirt on. His chest and stomach were covered in gashes. They weren't too deep, thanks to his suit, but they were still awful looking. You weren't sure you should be the one doing this, but it wasn't exactly like Peter could go to the hospital and tell them what happened.

You grabbed a clean cloth, soaking it under the tap and wringing out the extra water. You had to clear away the dried blood before tackling bandaging the wounds. With light strokes, you wiped at Peter's face. He kept his eyes shut and brows furrowed. Peter held you tightly, rubbing circles on your hips with his thumbs. You thought it helped him sooth himself, but it also helped you too. It freaked you out to see him covered in blood and wounds. 

"You're so gentle," he murmured at one point. 

"I don't want to hurt you," you said, dabbing at the cut across his eyebrow. 

"You won't hurt me." As the cloth drifted down to the split skin on his nose, a wince escaped Peter's lips. "Okay, that one hurt." He chuckled softly.

You smiled, lifting the cloth. "Sorry."

"It's okay. I've had worse."

You knew he was trying to make you feel better, but the words tugged at your chest. You wished he wasn't Spider-man. No teenager should have the pressure of protecting a whole city alone. As much as he tried to hide it, you knew it was too much for Peter. 

You ripped open a pack of wound closure strips, placing them carefully on Peter's brow, nose, and cheekbone cuts. The butterfly stitches held the skin together surprisingly well. 

"How do I look?" He asked, eyelids heavy as he looked down at you.

"Honestly?" You stared up. "Super hot."

"Really?" he laughed, turning to look at himself in the mirror. You leaned against the counter, admiring his face. 

"Uh huh. The cuts on your nose and lip look hot." you repeated.

"I'll take it," he smiled, turning back so you could work on the rest of his gashes. The ones on his chest and stomach were bigger, so you quickly washed and disinfected them, opting to wrap most of his torso in bandages. He looked like a mummy by the end of it. 

"We'll have to clean the cuts again in the morning and change the dressing. We don't want them getting infected," you said, washing the flecks of blood from your hands and drying them quickly. 

Once in your bedroom, you pulled back the sheets and grabbed an extra pillow for Peter. He'd never spent the night before, and so despite the circumstances not being the best, you were excited. All you wanted was to have him in your arms. 

You got into bed after Peter, tucking his hands under your chin and holding them tight.

"Thank you for taking care of me. I hate that you have to do this," he spoke quietly. 

"I like doing it." That was a lie, technically. You liked helping him, but you didn't like seeing him in pain. "Don't ever hesitate to knock on my window, no matter how late it is."

Peter nodded with closed eyes, pressing his head to yours. "I'm scared," he said, almost too quiet for you to hear. "I'm so scared, Y/N."

"Oh, Peter," you croaked, sympathy evident in your voice. "I know it's scary. It's terrifying. And it's bullshit that you're the one that has to keep this city safe. But you're safe right now, and we don't have to worry. Not now. We'll be okay."

"I wish things were how they used to be," Peter said. "Back when all we had to worry about was which classes we'd have together."

"Me too. You know, I'm still pissed we only have biology together," you chuckled quietly. 

"It's bullshit," Peter smiled.

"Complete bullshit," you grinned. Peter laughed, pulling you closer. You squeezed his hands and kissed his knuckles. 

"I love you," he whispered. "Thank you. Not just for tonight. For everything."

A tear rolled from your eye and soaked into the pillow. "I love you too, Peter. So much."

You couldn't really sleep after that. You stayed up and watched Peter drift off, just to make sure he did. He needed the rest more than you did. 

tasm!peter parker x reader

summary- in which peter parker misses you like crazy, and decides to pay you a late night visit

tags- fluff, established relationship, limited use of y/n

word count- 1.7k+

a/n- this is my first fic on here, so please ignore any errors or typos 🙏🏻

It was late at night, and yet you were up. Moonlight pooled through your window, illuminating the room so you weren't in complete darkness. Your eyes felt heavy and your body stiff, but somehow you weren't able to fall asleep. The TV hummed quietly with the laughing track of Friends. You were on your eleventh episode of the night, and was about to move onto the twelfth when your phone began to buzz. Furrowing your brows, you picked up your cell and flipped it open, pressing it to your ear.

"Hello?" you whispered, so no one in the house could hear you.

"Hey, uh, it's me."

You smiled to yourself, sitting up in bed slightly, phone pressed between your ear and shoulder. "Couldn't sleep?"

"I guess you could say that," Peter said. "I miss you."

"I just saw you at school, dude," you laughed, cheeks hurting from how much you were smiling. You were sort of being a hypocrite. You missed him as soon as you parted ways to walk home.

"Which was eight hours ago. That's a lot of time, y'know."

"That's true. But at least we get to see each other in bio tomorrow."

"Hmm, I don't really feel like waiting that long," Peter said, and you could hear the smile on his face. "Do you think you could open the front door for me?"

You froze, looking ahead in shock. "What?" you hissed. "Don't tell me you're outside."

"Uhhh...okay. I won't tell you."

"Peter!" You whisper shouted. "Are you kidding?! I can't just let you in the front door, my parents will hear!"

"Well, I would take the window, but we both know what happened last time." Yep. He fell onto your floor and woke the whole house up. You didn't think you'd ever recover from that.

"You know, somehow I think the front door will go even worse than that."

"It's worth a try, right?"

"Peter..." you hesitated. You wanted him to come in. Really badly. But considering the reaction from your parents last time you got caught, you weren't sure you wanted to risk it.

"Please? I'll be quiet, I promise. I just really want to see you," Peter pleaded. You bit your lip, trying to decide if you should really be doing this. It didn't take very long. When it came to Peter, you couldn't help but agree.

"Fine. But you better shut the hell up so you don't wake anyone." You hung up the phone as your feet met the carpet. Your steps were slow and deliberate, trying to be quiet. If someone woke up now, you could easily play it off like you were getting a glass of water. But if you opened that door and someone heard, you'd be utterly screwed.

Your bare feet stuck to the wooden floor slightly as you reached the bottom of the stairs. You glanced to your right, making sure the bedroom doors were shut. The walls were pretty thin, so you weren't confident in Peter's plan.

You wrapped your hand around the cold metal door handle, taking a deep breath. Slowly, you pushed down and edged the door open, wincing at the sound it made. Peter looked up to meet your eyes, and when you saw his face you were glad you agreed to let him in. He stepped into the hallway as you shut the door behind him, and you both glanced upstairs.

"All good?" Peter whispered after a moment.

"All good," you replied. You made your way up the stairs behind Peter, moving slightly quicker than you had on the way down. You swore you could hear someone moving upstairs. You hurriedly made it to the bedroom, and Peter and you rushed in, shutting the door behind. You froze for a moment, making sure you were in the clear. You heard the sound of a toilet flushing, and your blood ran cold.

"Fuck."

Peter stared back at you dumbly, head whipping around for a place to hide. Your bed was just a mattress on the floor, so he couldn't exactly hide beneath it. Quickly, you slid open your wardrobe door and shoved Peter inside. "Sorry!" you said in a rush as you closed him in, running for your bed. You clamped your eyes shut, waiting to hear if anyone was coming in to the room. Footsteps came closer, and you were beginning to sweat with nerves. Just as you thought someone was about to walk in, the door next door to yours opened and closed, and you sighed in relief. It was just your younger sibling. Even if they overheard you and Peter, you knew they wouldn't tell your parents. At least, they wouldn't if you bribed them.

Just to be sure, you lay in bed for a minute or two longer. Your heart rate slowly came down, and you let Peter out of his hiding spot.

"Jesus, never put me in there again," he breathed heavily, tugging the collar of his shirt out to cool himself down.

"Well, if you keep showing up at my door in the middle of the night, then I'm going to have to," you said, moving back to your bed. Peter followed this time, and you sat cross legged across from each other. Now that Peter was here, you weren't tired at all. You were wide awake and giddy and still not over the fact that he had snuck out at midnight to see you.

"So," you huffed. "What's happened in the eight hours since I last saw you?"

"Hmm, let's see." Peter tapped his chin, looking away in thought humorously. "Uhh, Aunt May made mac n cheese for dinner."

You stared at him, holding back a grin. "That sounds delicious. Did you do anything else, or..."

"You know what, I think that was about it," Peter smirked. You laughed quietly, shaking your head at him. "What about you?"

"Well, I had a ton of homework to do, so I thought about doing that, but then I realised I'd rather sit in bed and watch TV. I've basically been sat here since I got home."

"When's the homework due?" Peter asked.

"Um. Tomorrow."

"Oh, you are so screwed."

"Yup."

"Do you wanna--?"

"No, Peter, we are not doing homework right now," you cut him off. You'd rather face your teacher with no assignment than actually do the assignment.

Peter shrugged. "Worth a shot."

"Nerd," You chuckled.

"I am not a nerd," Peter said in mock offence.

"Really? You're the one that was going to ask if we could do homework in the middle of the night."

"Yeah, to help you," Peter pushed your shoulder with a smile. The sweet look on his face made you melt into him. You pressed your forehead against his chest, feeling his hands come to rest on your knees.

"As terrifying as it was to sneak you upstairs, I'm glad you came over. I feel like we don't get to see each other as much as we should."

"I know," Peter said, chin coming to rest on your head. "Biology a few times a week isn't enough."

"And it isn't even that good of a subject!"

Peter pulled away to look at you. "Hey, hey, biology is a good subject."

"Uhh, not really."

"Yes, really."

"Peter, all you're doing is proving to me that you're a nerd."

"If defending bio makes me a nerd, then yeah, I'm a nerd."

"Shit, I should have been recording. I can't believe you just admitted that," you laughed.

"Shut up," Peter chuckled back. The pale light from the moon shone on his features, making his face look bright and beautiful. Your chest felt warm at the sight, and you couldn't contain your smile.

"What?" he asked lightly.

"Nothing, you just--you look gorgeous."

Peter looked at you in surprise, eyes taking in the way you were looking at him. His big brown eyes were inviting and warm, and the fact that they were on you of all people was enough to make you pull him in. You kissed him lightly, lips brushing softly in a way that made your head spin. His hand held you at the nape of your neck, fingers in your hair. You had kissed Peter many times before, but it was something you would never get used to. Each time was as good as the last.

After a moment, Peter moved to rest your foreheads together. You kept your eyes closed, wanting to absorb the moment and hold him close forever. You could feel your eyes getting heavy though, and you knew you needed to sleep.

"We should probably go to bed," you murmured, pulling away.

"Nuh-uh," he whispered and tugged you close, eyes closed. "Don't wanna leave yet."

"You don't have to leave. Stay with me."

Peter settled his eyes on yours, trying to see if you meant what you said. Of course you meant it--you didn't think you'd be able to handle being apart from him for the rest of the night.

"But what if in the morning--"

"We can get up a bit earlier, and you can leave before my parents wake up. No one will know you were here." Was it a bad idea? Yes. But Peter really did look gorgeous, and you felt so safe and at peace in his arms. He couldn't leave.

"Okay. I'll stay," he smiled. You grinned back, pulling him up to your pillow and beneath the blanket. You laid face to face, looking at each other with a strange sense of giddiness. Peter had never spent the night without permission, let alone on a school night. It felt exciting and dangerous all at once.

"I think we're going to get caught," Peter said, but he didn't seem to care. Neither did you.

"If I get grounded, it'll be worth it." Peter laughed at that. His hand grabbed yours and squeezed, before bringing them to his lips and kissing your knuckles. While your hand was still by his face, you ran the back of it along his cheekbones, his jaw, his lips. His eyes fluttered shut at your touch, sighing happily when you brushed your fingers through his hair.

"I love you," he murmured tiredly.

"I love you too," you replied.

"You're beautiful," he said, opening his eyes.

"Thank you," you whispered. If it was anyone else that told you that, you wouldn't believe them. But the way Peter said it--full of love and admiration-- told you he meant it.

"You're welcome," he smiled with sleepy eyes, and you laughed lightly at how cute he was.

"Goodnight, Peter."

"Goodnight, Y/N."

teamUSAsnowboardertasm!peter x teamCanadaFigureskaterF!Reader || WC: 3.15K

-when your olympic team goes into Cortina village without you, your teammate left a questionable crush, Peter Parker, in your head. when the power went out throughout the whole olympic village, guess who shows up at your dormstep?

tags : slight crack, fluff, angst if you squint hard enough,0 use of Y/N, major use of side characters (Hi Hattie!!), voluntary proximity, Team Canada being your second family, both you and peter are 18!, peter being the most awkward person oat, mentions of ex gf Gwen Stacy (at least shes not dead), winter version of summer olympic cardboard beds.

authors note !- hey party people! feels like its been forever (or 6 months) since i wrote on this blog. i missed it and it doesn't help that life's been a bitch for everybody recently. it took me wayyy too long to write this and im kinda happy with the final results. since winter is obviousy coming to an end, im excited to have more free time to write more! enjoy!!!

credits to @uzmacchiato for dividers!!

“Come on, you’re in Milan— this is the last place to be a homebody.”

Your teammate cooed, trying to shake you from your anchored stance. Your body had sat idle, refusal written through your facial expressions.

“And do what, Hattie? Watch you and a good portion of ‘Canada’s most prosperous winter athletes’ get shit-faced, and I have to drag a few, I don’t know,— 30 — back to the mobile homes? I refuse— no! I happily disapprove of my even stepping out of this room.” Your refusal was immediately met with a disapproving sigh, but your stance was clear.

18 in Milan? Watching a group of 30-some shameless Men and Women flirt with other athletes and listen to their perverted thoughts being publicized to anyone who dares to indulge? Absolutely not. You had just gotten off the plane, and the idea itself was overstimulating enough. A good tea and book would keep you afloat. But, as expected, your teammate was persistent.

“You are seriously out of your mind. Never mind us, this is also a chance to meet new faces, talk to new faces—hell— kiss new faces!” You hurtled a pillow at her as soon as the idea was sketched on her face.

“Haha. Mature,” your response was monotone, but the concept had made your heart flutter. Surely it’s just to get to your head, but unfortunately, it worked.

The sight of your gears turning gave a victorious reaction to your teammate, moving her to sit next to you. She snatched your phone, seemingly typing your password. You tried to act like it didn’t bother you; it was just her being stupid.

“Hattie, don’t search dumb shit on my phone. Go out, have fun, I’ll be—“Ah Ha!”— what?” You overlapped her shoulder, staring at the screen curiously, earning a snort from Hattie. There was the Roster of Team USA, 232 pictures littering the screen.  She had scrolled to the men's snowboarding section, a group of 49 on the screen.

“Where is he?” Hattie’s eyes scanned the screen till she pressed on the seemingly youngest athlete on the roster. Oh my…

“Violà. The youngest snowboarder on team USA. 18 year old professional snowboarder, Peter Parker.” The sight of him had made your past fluttering problem relocate to your stomach. Eye candy was the most respectful way to describe him. He had a nerdy charm, but it didn’t overpower his strong facial features. His eyes were coffee brown, and his hair was messy and lush but it fit him. Overall, he was gorgeous. You had stared at his picture till your eyes started stinging, but it felt worth it just to gaze at him.

“He..” She pointed at the screen, staring at you,

“He could be out tonight, and you’re giving it up for books?” she whined. But—what if?

What if he was strolling in Cortina, roaming and looking for someone, rather than something?

You looked at Hattie desperately and sighed, giving her a look.

“A guy like that..” You mumbled, carding your hair anxiously, “…has no chance of being single. Have fun, Hattie, get out of my head… and room.”

Hattie snorted and got up, wiping her pants. “I tried. Have fun by yourself.” She smiled and walked out. Leaving your minds’ defenses destroyed by the idea of what ifs. You found your head on your pillow, imagining the curves from the popcorn ceiling to be mountains. You mumbled curses about Hattie, hoping the worst for her hangover.

Ping!

You rocked your head towards the sudden sound of your phone going off, sitting up and recollecting your thoughts.

Hades: I’ll see if I spot him in the wild, babe. Wish me luck!

You tossed the phone, leaving it dangling at the end of your bed.

Much to Hattie’s surprise, you had found solace in your books, packing a few books to keep yourself entertained. Well, they were packed to keep you entertained.

Now their use is much more suited to be described as a distraction.

You flipped through pages, but you couldn’t find retention within the sentences. Rereading didn’t help either. This was the only book you had packed that didn’t have an overwhelming undertone of romance to it, but even it was too much.

But it seemed everything had been ‘too much.’

The stiffness of the chair,

The roughness from the Sherpa carpet,

The overwhelming warmth from the fireplace?

You knew you were in over your head.

You let out a defeated groan, placing the book down and closing your eyes, hoping your thoughts wouldn’t betray you and succumb to the ‘what ifs.’

knock..

knock…

….

knock..?

You could feel the hesitation through the door, but you still got up to answer. You lazily dragged your feet, guessing it was just a drunken teammate who miraculously found their way to you.

You heard soft mumbling from the other side of the door, your curiosity finally kicking in. You twist the door handle and open the door cautiously, open enough to get a good look at the unexpected visitor.

Peeping, you caught a glimpse…

oh..!

You immediately slammed the door, letting out a particularly high-strung screech. Surely your eyes are blurry from the jumbled words, but there is no way, no chance…

Immediately feeling guilt, you flung the door open, trying to pick up the pieces of resolve you still had left. He hadn’t moved from his spot, probably still in shock, but your eyes weren’t wrong.

Peter Parker was standing an arm's length away from you.

So much for going out.

The apologies spilled out as fast as they had come into your brain.

“Oh my gosh, are you okay? I don’t know what got into me, that’s so embarrassing-“

“No, no- it’s fine your fine, it’s just uh- I’m uh—hi...”

His unparalleled kindness made you truly realize how deep into this you actually were.

Heat crawled up your face, and hoping your fluster wasn’t visible, you gave him a shaky smile, “hi..”

“I-I’m Parker- Peter. Peter Parker. I just uh- just wanted to see if your power was still on?” You paused for a second, confused at the question. Why wouldn’t it be working? That’s when you decided to take a closer glance at him. Check if he might’ve been drunk, of course.

His hair was dripping wet, and he still had water running down his face. He must’ve been cold.

“Uhm- no? I mean mine is working just fine, I don’t—“VRRRR..!”—“ both you and Peter draw your attention to the back of the room, where suddenly in that same instance, everything has shut off.  Heat, water, lights. Gone.

“Shit.”

You and Peter glanced at each other before he put on a what you personally perceived as a guilty smile.

“I must be bad luck, huh?”

You smiled politely even though you didn’t want to say it out loud. “It’s fine, my fireplace is still working. Come in, you look cold.”

He let out a relieved sigh as you stepped to the side, letting him in.

He’s much prettier up close.

His movements were hesitant, and he looked almost scared. You flickered a soft smile on your face, settling into how awkward this whole situation is.

“Sit anywhere, I don’t bite.” He chuckled, finally meeting your eyes with a goofy smile.

“Thank God, I have enough of that back home.” Though his joke had fallen terribly short, you still gave him a small giggle, hoping humoring him would spark a conversation instead of a chain of unbearable silence.

“You don’t have to laugh, that wasn’t funny.”

“At least you’re self-aware?” His smile had gotten noticeably larger, making that tingly feeling reappear from earlier in the night.

The silence had lasted momentarily, both of you never truly making real eye contact. You cautiously sized him up, taking careful notes of his features. As you go up his head, you remember how soaking wet his hair is. Has he been standing here drenched in water the whole time?

“Oh my gosh. Has your hair always been that wet?!” You made haste to your room, grabbing a clean towel. He had stayed in place, looking around like a lost puppy.

“I must’ve forgotten when I came out of the shower, I didn’t even—“head down,”— realize..” he reluctantly followed your orders, keeping his head still as you aggressively ran the towel through his hair.

“My bad,” he muttered under his breath.

“What are you sorry for? Just making sure my pristine guest doesn’t catch a cold.” You both giggled, letting the moment sink into a quiet moment of intimacy…

..intimacy between two strangers.

You jolt back immediately, Peter flinching at your reaction. “What?”

“I’m sorry, it’s just— are you comfortable with me doing that? We don’t really-“

“I just stood here and let you do it for about a minute. I’d hope I’m comfortable with you.” He retorted.

“Yeah, but we just don’t…know each other-Like that?” You pulled on the hems of your shirt, heat settling onto your face.

Peter paused for a moment, letting your troubles float in the air for a few seconds. He then sat on the floor closest to the fireplace, dragged a blanket down with him, and patted the open area right next to him. “Well then, let’s get to know each other. Don’t want my pristine host to feel uncomfortable,” a smile —almost wimpy at that— broke through, and you settled next to him, the tension slowly breaking into something you couldn’t quite place yet...

It wasn’t as awkward as you thought.

That is— letting your VERY fresh crush stay in your dorm while the power was still out.

You had learned a lot about Peter in a short time, actually. You had especially learned that TMI was foreign to his knowledge.

He was the goofy type. The type who talks with his hands. Your type.

Currently, you both lie on the floor, shoulder to shoulder, covered in the warm shared blanket, talking about whatever has come to both of your minds.

“How do you have time to train if you’re constantly in school, though? Like I devote all my energy to skating, you’re crazy.”

Peter laughed easily at the comment, taking a second to think.

“My aunt, she gave me the option to switch to homeschool, but I felt like I would miss out on important stuff.”

“…like?”

He paused for a second, turning his head to look at you. A sickly sweet smile kicked onto both of your faces as you both maintained eye contact.

“What?” You breathed out a laugh.

“Nothing, it’s just I-well, I wouldn’t really miss out on shit.” He laughed, and you followed suit.

“Really?”

“Yeah, I- I mean, I had okay friends? And I had  rigorous coursework, but I can live without that….maybe Gwen? That’s about it.”

Gwen…

“Gwen?” You sat up a little, getting leverage from your elbows. The blanket had fallen successfully to your hips. “Girlfriend?”

He didn’t make eye contact; his mouth had only opened slightly before he formed a word. “Uh huh...yeah.”

You shifted uncomfortably, the tension from earlier wrangling its way back into your conscious part of your brain. “Ah.”

He closed his eyes and let out a deep sigh, wiping his face for no apparent reason. “She was…a lot,” his use of past tense caught your attention, but you weren’t gonna do anything without confirmation. “She was just amazing. She was so down-to-earth and humble about everything; it felt like a safe space.” He talked about this girl as if he owed her his life, and deep down, you felt you couldn’t measure up to that.

The idea of having someone having to rely and depend on you for such a long period of time made you feel weird, alienating at that. You hadn’t realized you even zoned out until you heard “but-“, your attention refocusing back to him.

“I couldn’t love her…not how she wanted me to. She was... amazing, yeah, but we were... how do I say it...” he snapped, hoping it would spark a wave of recollection in his brain.

“..on different wave lengths..?” You offered, but were met with silence.

“..on different wavelength…yeah.. I was just too busy for her. She needed more from me, and I couldn’t love her properly. It was just ‘eat, snowboard, study, repeat,’ and I didn’t have room for her in there. And don’t get me wrong, I still loved her, but she needed somebody who could keep up with her. I just- couldn’t.” He sighed, his palms now fully covering his face. “I….just told my whole love life to a girl I just met who probably couldn't care less.” He let out a breathy laugh, but you, for the first time tonight, didn’t return the favor.

It was an awkward silence, partially because this conversation made your head spin with ideas, and partially because you, in some ways, completely get him.

“I get it.” You said, your eyes never breaking contact with the ceiling. “I’m sorry. She seemed amazing.”

“Yeah, but I just want her to be happy...” he sighed. Your teeth gnawed on the bottom of your lips, and your mouth moved faster than you could process the words:

“But don’t you as well? Deserve to be happy, I mean.” It was a second of silence, but it felt more drawn out. He had sat up, mirroring you at this point, listening.

“Well, you shouldn’t let your passions dictate your relationships. You sound a little sappy if I may add,” You both chuckled quietly at the comment. “You’re kind, very smart, and overly trusting from what I can tell, don’t cancel yourself out just because you have one too many things on your plate.”

It was quiet for a second, and his lack of response did scare you, but alas, you kept going.

“We’re in Milan, Parker. Some of the best athletes have flown out to be here. A lot of them are in the same boat as you. Spent half of their career playing hockey, snowboarding—“figure skating...”—figure skating! Anyone could be out there tonight, and you’re just gonna give it up? For stupid snowboarding? No way, Peter..go out and find someone. I promise it’ll be worth it…”

“Well, I don’t think I have to go far.” He mumbled, and after a distinct pause, a laugh came as a natural response from both of you. You nudged him softly on the side, but you couldn’t hide the excitement written on your face.

“Flirting with the girl that you not only just spent an hour talking about your ex with, but you also only met her...—“6 hours ago-“— 6 hours ago, is a risky move, Parker.” You cooed, unconsciously drifting closer to his body warmth. He laughed, completely on his side at this point, one hand slithering across your waist to consciously pull you closer.

“Yeah, I’m sorry about that,” he rasped softly, “how can I make it up to you?” The reflection of the fireplace onto his glasses perfectly paired with his brown, doe eyes.

What a tease.

You thought playfully, rubbing your chin to try to formulate an answer.

“You could….stay with me tonight, watch the sunrise over the mountains tomorrow morning?” He bit his lip, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Are you sure…? Anything more, I don’t know- closer, less cold, needs more… face-to-face contact?” You giggled childishly at his last comment.

“Just say you want to kiss me, Parker.”

…..

“I want to kiss you, Parker.”

He mimicked, but it fell short as your foreheads had pressed together already, his grasp around your waist had curled tighter. You slowly took his glasses off, and your hands cupped his face, fingers shaking slightly on his heated cheeks. It didn’t go unnoticed by Peter.

“You sure you wanna do this?” He asked one last time, “We can take this slow...rain check this and go for a coffee in the morning?”

“I think 6 hours is slow enough. Can we get this show going?” You snickered, helping Peter close that pesky gap.

At first, your teeth knocked together, both of you stopping to laugh, then again, which led to a chain of sloppy, heavy kisses.

The surreal sensation was hitting hard, a combination of his freshly washed hair still dripping hesitantly onto your forehead, the fireplace screaming unceasingly, and the faint taste of probably his dinner still on his lips. It was overstimulating in the best place possible, your whole body becoming sensitive to even his simplest touch.

You had shifted yourself to his lap, effectively straddling him, somehow not breaking lip contact. You hear him let out a strong sigh as you both pull away to catch a quick breath. You were trying to read his face; you knew that much. You pushed his hair back to get a full view of his features, leaving a new sense of giddiness to settle in your stomach.

He left a dizzying kiss on your forehead, the hot air blowing once he lifted as he was trying to catch his breath. “So-“

“Uh huh.” Your breath hitched with a lazy smile kicking to your face. You felt his hands climb up your sides, but you feel his soft shaking.

“You’re shaking, Parker.”

“So are you.”

..

"…. Can we do that again? my- my eyes were closed. I didn’t get the full experience."

"Oh my god." You snorted, softly pulling his nape back to get a better perspective. “You’re so stupid.”

“And you’re still kissing me so-“

You brushed his lips softly, Peter pulling you closer for a more proper kiss. It was slower than before, as all the adrenaline had almost fizzed out, but it was still just as meaningful.

“I hope she’s not sleeping, I brought her back some—oh??” You practically pushed Peter off of you, his whole body slamming to the ground.

“Fuck!” He groaned in pain. You both looked over at the doorway to see Hattie and a few of your (very drunk) teammates filling up your doorway. Embarrassing felt too light a word to describe how you felt. You removed yourself from his lap, which induced a whine from him, and stood up, walking frantically towards them.

In a team fashion, everyone had the same star-struck look on their face. especially the ring leader. Hattie let out a screech before wrapping her arms around you and surprisingly lifting you in the air, giggling like a toddler. Her words were so incoherent, but you had a hunch about their meaning.

You looked back at Peter, who was now swarmed by the rest of your team, their words slurring and poking him like he was a never-before-seen artifact.

Your eyes softened as you both made eye contact. “I’m sorry,” you mouthed towards him, earning you a childlike grin and a sincere “It’s okay.”