pairing: peter parker x reader
content/tags: academic rivals to lovers, kissing, fluff, study dates! peter is your tutor
a/n: i might make a part two as i feel the ending is rushed (not proofread)
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.
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.”
“…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.
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.
his reply comes through quickly.
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 frown slightly, sitting up a little straighter when you look back at your paper.
“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.
there’s a brief pause this time before he replies.
a slight smile graces your lips, he was trying to make you feel better about your failure.
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.
“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.
“text me if you get stuck again”
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.
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.
“i see everything,” betty giggles lightly. then, after a second, “and 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.”
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.
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.
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.
you stare at the message briefly, then type back.
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.
“what about what you’ve done so far?”
you let out a quiet sigh under your breath.
“it hasn’t been the worst”
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.
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.
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”
you don’t answer straight away.
“you mean like tutoring tutoring”
“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.
“my place, i’m free tomorrow?”
“my aunt will be there, don’t worry”
you snort quietly at that.
you question your life choices before simply replying,
“but this is still temporary”
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
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”
“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.
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.
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.
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.”
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.
“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.”
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.”
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 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.
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.
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?”
she smiles again like she doesn’t believe you for a second. “mhm.”
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.”
“yeah,” he murmurs, a small smile forming, “and i’m being a bad teacher.”
