it must be love — p.p.

summary: a series of moments where y/n and peter say ‘i love you’.

warnings: fem!reader. just fluffy :’)

wc: 2.3k

THE SOFT FABRIC drowned your body, so much so that the short sleeves almost came to your elbows and the hem grazed your thighs - covering the cotton of your little pyjama shorts wholly. It smelt like him, like honey and hazelnuts and all things great. The very thought had your beating heart, candescent and warm, becoming doused with a gracious intent.

It brought a glow to your cheeks, a soft smile lifting your lips as you peered down at yourself. It was one of his science pun tshirts that you loved to no extent, and you were wholeheartedly surprised when he had plucked the clothing item from his drawer and gently placed it in your hands with a shy smile only a couple of minutes beforehand.

It was his favourite shirt, and he wanted you to wear it.

The revelation only made the apples of your cheeks glow an even darker hue, your body blushing along with them. You turned to the mirror of his bathroom, eyeing the way your face was makeup free, but glowing with a radiance of pure happiness and a fading fiery blush. You looked happy, you observed as you grappled with your hair in the reflective surface - finally getting it up into a messy bun on the top of your head after a few tries. You were happy, and you only had Peter Parker to thank for that.

Gingerly, you twisted the lock with a click, and opened the bathroom door. The light under May’s bedroom door was out, and you knew she’d gone to sleep for the night. It was quite late, after all. With that acknowledgement, you tiptoed past her door and crept across the hall - ever so gently opening Peter’s bedroom door and slipping inside, not wanting to wake the kind woman.

Your warm eyes of honey and love were instantly brought to life when you saw your boyfriend stood in the centre of his room, clad in cerise hello kitty pyjama bottoms and a plain shirt. The gracious light from his bedside lamp had his features glowing angelically, the light luminous against the pout of his cupid’s bow and the rosiness of his cheeks, as he flicked through the channels on his tv - unaware yet so lovely.

Your bare feet padded quietly against his carpet as you neared him, wounding your arms under his and around his middle from behind. You felt him jump lightly against your daint hold, obviously not hearing you come back from getting ready for bed despite his spider-senses. You didn’t know that Peter’s thoughts were so consumed by you that he couldn’t concentrate on anything else, not even the abilities of his superhero alias.

The sound of your faint giggles, as you leant your forehead on the area between his shoulder blades and pressed a kiss to the middle of his back, had Peter smiling so lovingly. Your heartfelt affection always warmed his heart, and he couldn’t help himself when he swivelled around in your gentle clutch and let himself hug you back - close to his chest, where you belonged.

“Nice pyjama bottoms,” You mumbled into his clothed chest, and he could practically feel your teasing smile pressed up against him.

“I look better than you, baby,” He joked right back, his beam happy as he pulled back just so. He peered down at your attire and the grin on his lips slowly dropped into an open-mouthed gape, his eyes widening and his cheeks suddenly ablaze with hot reds.

The sight of you dressed in his favourite science pun tshirt, your legs on display and seemingly going on forever - it stirred feelings up in Peter that he’d never felt before. You, in his adored ‘I’ve lost an electron,’ ‘Are you positive?’ tshirt. You were perfection, how did he manage to get himself someone like you?

You noticed his reaction, bashfully bringing your bottom lip between your teeth. Your arms unwinded themselves from around his middle as you stepped back slightly and tugged the material, trying to cover more of your skin, shy under his admiring gaze.

“Okay,” His voice was high in pitch as he nodded, swallowing roughly, before planting his hands on the curve of your waist and tugging you close to him once again, “Okay, um, I take it back. Y-You look so so pretty, you always do, wow, I love you.”

-

Wistful tears tumbled down your rosy cheeks as you peered up into his hazel eyes; they were filled with worrisome concern as they darted across your features, to and fro and wide with anguish. Your trembling bottom lip broke his heart into shattered pieces in his chest, and he hated how his thumbs couldn’t keep up with the tears falling from your eyes of glass.

His hands tenderly held your face between them, cradling your cheeks with his fingertips getting lost in the strands of your hair and the pads of his thumbs swiping away the tears as they raced down your cheeks. But, soon they were collapsing in heart-wrenching drops like unrelenting rain, too quick for him to wipe away before they slipped from your jaw and hit the carpeted ground.

Seeing you like that tugged ruthlessly at Peter’s heartstrings. Bad day, he knew. It happens, he knew that too. But, you never deserved it to happen to you, not someone as kind and caring and beautiful as you, that he was so certain of. The sound of your dismal sobs slipping from your lips, the feeling of your fingers clutching his tshirt in their grip so desperately.

He couldn’t help but wrap his arms around your figure, the unmerciful cries racking your body as he pulled you close to his chest. With his chin resting ever so gently atop your head, his arms wound tightly around you, and his body faintly rocking the two of you back and forth in a soothing attempt to calm your cries, Peter found himself whispering sweet nothings and everythings all at once to the shell of your ear. That it would be okay, that he’s there and will always be, that he loved you.

Awhile later, all that could be heard was the light sniffles of the remnants of your broken sobs. Your tear stained face was resting in the crook of his neck, your fingers delicately tracing the hemline of Peter’s shirt. You were so utterly grateful for him. He was an angel, and you were sure that you didn’t deserve him. Not when he dropped everything and raced to your house as soon as he heard your faint cries in his ears when you dialled his number.

But you didn’t want him to rethink, and come to the rightful conclusion that he deserved the world and more. So instead, you simply pressed a kiss, so soft and so loving, to the exposed area of his neck - your lips mumbling against his skin just after, “Please stay and cuddle with me? I love you.”

And he did.

-

He was ecstatic. Just like he always was when he took a test in Chemistry and got his results back later on in the week.

Other students sat anxiously in their seats waiting for their teacher to hand back their test with their percentage written in the top right-hand corner, the taunting vermillion ink of the pen in the shape of a number staring back at them.

Peter didn’t sweat, he and everyone else in his class knew what he was capable of in Chemistry, and it was not a rare occasion for him to get 100% and pass with flying colours. Everyone knew he was a genius, and it got to the point where it was simply expected of him - nobody gawped at the giant three-digit number, nobody grinned and patted his back in congratulations, nobody noticed his efforts. Not anymore.

Nobody but you.

Your reaction when he flashes you the sheet of paper with his grade etched into it always has his heart lifting in his chest, glowing with such adoration. You, despite knowing that your boyfriend was a complete genius and would go ever so far in life because of it, never failed to be utterly astounded with his intelligence and hard work.

Your eyes still blew wide with excitement, your lips still turned up into a radiant beam, your arms still flung themselves around his middle and pulled him close to you. Even after it had been the billionth time in a row that he’d gotten full marks.

“I’m so proud of you, Peter! That’s amazing!” You squealed quietly, your heart bursting with admiration and joy as you pressed a swift kiss to his lips, then another, and another, “You’re amazing; you’re so smart, I love you. I love you. I love you.”

-

A knock at the door, and immediately you were a grinning mess of flustered breaths and racing hearts. You weren’t expecting him, he hadn’t called or texted to let you know that he was coming over, but the rap of knuckles in a familiar tune let you know who was standing on your porch, regardless.

Tap tap, pause, tap tap.

You opened the door, a soft smile pulling your rosy cheeks upwards as you saw Peter standing on your front step. His eyes were bright upon seeing you (despite your lazy attire of sweatpants, his Midtown hoodie, and your hair up in a messy ponytail), his cheeks flush from the cool spring wind, and in hand: a bouquet of perky daffodils, bright the colour and sunny the feeling.

“Hey,” You greeted quietly, moving to the side to let him into the warmth of your home before shutting the cold outside with a thud of your door closing. Spinning around, your eyes were gleaming with a soft kind of happiness as you leant up on the tips of your toes and pressed your lips to his, your fingertips so daint and delicate in caressing his jaw.

When you drew back, he was smiling down at you. His smile reminded you of honey, sweet and lovely, and you had to peck his lips one last time because of it.

“Hey angel,” He took the hand hanging limply by your side and locked his fingers between the gaps of yours, “I saw these when I was walking back from the shop and thought of you, because you’re bright and sunny and I love you.”

-

Bonus:

The cafeteria was filled with bustling students, chattering to their friends, casually munching on their lunches. Peter’s lunch remained in front of him, untouched. Instead, he sat beside Ned, his chin rested in the palm of his hand and his eyes locked upon something on the opposite end of the lunch hall.

He was captivated, not hearing a word that his best friend was saying. Rather, the entirety of his attention was focused solely on you. You were sat with Michelle, your smile wide and your hands flying up animatedly as you explained something to the brunette girl.

The two of you did usually sit with Peter and Ned during lunch, the quartet close and tightly knitted as friends. But that day, you’d wanted to tell Michelle about the dress you’d brought for Homecoming - and Peter wasn’t allowed to know any details of your outfit until the night; it was a surprise. The only clue he was allowed was the colour, purely because May wanted his tie to match your dress. A deep red.

So, Peter spent the whole of lunch with fully-fledged heart-eyes, peering over at you across the distance between the two of you with a longing of wanting to be close to you again. He thought you always looked beautiful, but you’d pinned your hair back and out of your face that day so your features were glowing under the light of the sun filtering in through the windows even more than normal. He felt compelled by the radiance, and he couldn’t look away even if he wanted to. Which he didn’t.

“Peter, listen to me for like two seconds. I’m the guy in the chair, you’re supposed to listen to me,” Ned snickered, his elbow jabbing at the arm that was holding Peter’s head up.

The lovestruck boy jolted back at the offending action, glancing over at his friend with slumped shoulders and eyebrows knitted into a furrow. “But look at how good my baby looks today,” He let out a dramatic sigh, “She’s so pretty and I can’t even tell her right now,” His voice came as a childish whine, his eyes moving back to where you were beaming with happiness as you showed Michelle something on your phone.

Then, the shrill shriek of the bell echoed throughout the grounds of Midtown High, signalling students to make their way to fifth period. Peter knew that Ned shared your next class, and as Ned was turning away to walk to Product Design - Peter called out to him shamelessly over the sound of jostling students.

“Ned! You gotta tell (Y/N) that I said I love her!”

cutesy :)))