the reading of a quiet boy’s heart ❁ peter parker
summary : these are the contents of nine love letters, sappily written and addressed to you, written by a very lovestruck peter parker. plus a bonus one, because the sap couldn’t resist.
technically a part two to love letters, but you can def read this separately.
wc : 3.4k
author’s note : i didn’t think this through oh my god nine fucKING LETTERS I DID NOT THINK THIS THROUGH i still did it tho enjoy loves
Peter had a kind heart, the softest you’d ever encountered before, and it was the pure goodness inside him that made you begin to fall for him in the first place. He sat beside you, a respectable distance settling between your bodies simply because he was a commendable gentleman and despite everything, despite all his feelings and wants and thoughts about you, he didn’t want you make assumptions about the type of boy he was. He wanted you to continue liking him for quite sometime, which is precisely the reason he was sliding his letters over to you now.
They were his prized possessions from over these past few months, all ten of them, though you’d already had the tenth read to you, and while he had never really expected this moment to come to fruition, he was happy that it was. “So, um, should I read them out loud?” He sifted through the pile to find the first one, and held it out in front of him once it was located. You arranged yourself comfortably on the bed, legs crossed and a ridiculously large smile on your face that Peter couldn’t possibly say no to.
He cleared his throat, ducking his head toward the paper.
Hi. It’s Peter. If you’re reading this, which I highly doubt that you are because why would you be, you know it’s me, Peter, so I probably didn’t need to repeat that like eight times. Whatever. This is pen. I can’t erase it now so I’ll just keep it because the messiness of crossing out all these screwed up sentences would give me anxiety. I figured I’d write this to you because, well, I don’t have the balls to say any of this face to face. I can safely say that such a thing isn’t what I’m ready for. Maybe one day. God, I hope so. I know that if I got a letter like this, I’d be really happy, since it just means that someone was thinking of you and wanted to show it. I hope that one day, if you’re reading this, it makes you happy to know that I think about you. Or maybe you’ll be creeped out. I hope not.
That’d be really depressing. Anyways, I just wanted you to know that I think you’re really pretty and I like when you smile at me in school and yeah. You make me happy. Thanks for that. So yeah. Next letter will be way more thoughtful and intricate. I’m new to this writing this. You don’t care. You’re not even reading this. Okay bye.
Peter was flushed with embarrassment by the time he uttered the last two words, looking at his knees and laughing a bit before looking back up at you. He was glad to see that you weren’t giving him a mocking smirk. “That was adorable,” you laughed, rubbing his back encouragingly. “Go on. Please.” You leaned down to kiss his cheek gently, and his face lit up where your lips met his skin. He found the next letter immediately and faced you as he read it.
As promised, I’ve taken it upon myself to gather my thoughts before writing this to you and I hope I am much more coherent than I was in the initial one. I’m trying here. I learned some new words, too. I more of a whiz when it comes to science and mathematics. I’m decent at English, but you probably know that because you sit behind me. You’re amazing in English class. You probably know that just because you’re you and you know how you perform in your own classes. All right, so maybe I’m not as coherent as I thought I was gonna be. Moving on. In English today the teacher passed out different essays to everyone and we had to peer edit each other’s work. I didn’t get your essay but Ned did and I forced him to give it to me. I think he was just putting up a fight because he likes to torture me, which is fine. What are best friends for, right? Well, I read your essay and you’re probably the most wonderful writer I’ve ever read from. Seriously. You have this way with words and it makes me wish I was more of a writer so that I could express the way you make me feel in better sentence structures than the mediocre ones I’m forming at this very second. You’re an excellent writer. If you ever write a book and you have a book signing in some Barnes and Noble in the city or in The Strand, I’m gonna be the first in line, without a doubt. I’ll buy like fifty signed copies. I swear. Write a book. You’d wow everyone, and I think everyone deserves to read a bit of the Y/N Y/L/N’s work. You’d be doing the world a disservice if you didn’t share your talents, but it’s up to you, of course. Just think about it though.
“Aw, Peter,” you cooed, throwing your arms around him and pressing your lips against his quickly, your face burning but your smile infinite. “You’ll be the first to read my book when it’s finished. You’ll be the one it’s dedicated to.” In response, the shy boy nuzzled his nose affectionately against your cheek, at a loss for words because this girl in front of him was everything he could have dreamed of and more.
We were partners in Chemistry today. I’m sorry if I came off like a rude, inconsiderate jerk. I’m gonna be honest right now. I’m shy. You make me shy. I was quiet because if I had talked to you the way that I wanted to, I would’ve be a stupid and stuttering mess and that’s not how I want to talk to you. I know we’ve had conversations before and they’ve been fine but a lot of stuff is different now and whenever we talk I get these butterflies in my stomach that make it hard to think or breathe or talk or look at you or hold things or do basic human tasks. So, that’s why I wouldn’t talk to you. I just didn’t want to look like an idiot in front of the coolest and loveliest girl I know, also known as you. Please don’t hate me. I don’t want you to hate me.
He coughed, embarrassed again, but he didn’t let that deter him from reading you the rest of the letters. He’d never let anything deter him from talking to you again.
I think I’m in over my head. With everything, not just with you. I can’t really mention specifics, not even to you despite the fact that we’re not acquaintances anymore. We’re more like kind of friends, which is great! It means progress. Progress is good. It’s the one good thing lately. I’ll keep it vague. I get beat up every night and then every day I get picked on by Flash. He doesn’t hit or anything- I don’t think he’d be very good at it- but being called Penis Parker all the freaking time takes a toll on a guy, you know? It pretty much sucks. And I can’t tell May what’s going on because I know for a fact that she’ll freak out and everyone knows that if May starts freaking out, I’m gonna freak out even harder, and that’s a scary sight to see. Plus I had to quit Robotics and I really wanted to take the team to the competition this year. I also quit band but I’m not as upset about that. The uniform sucks. It’s too tight. I guess I’m getting muscles. It’s kind of weird since I’ve always been scrawny but I don’t know, it’s interesting enough. I’m not complaining. Maybe you like that in a guy. I don’t know. I try not to think about what you like in a guy because I’m pretty sure your dream dude won’t be anything like me. It’s fine. I’m happy admiring from afar. I like you a lot. I’m good with just being friends if that’s your wish. I don’t know why I’m telling you all these things that I am, but I feel like if you were really here and watching me write this, if you could read this, you’d listen and you’d understand. You always listen, even when I’m rambling, even though we don’t talk much.
When he stopped talking and reached for the next letter, taking the faded blue piece of paper from his stack, he knew the feeling pooling inside his stomach was nothing short of elation. He was right, as he often was. You listened. You did.
Today, you punched Flash in the nose. No one saw it coming. But I think I fell in love with you right then and there. Or at least, I fell deeper in like with you. He called me Penis Parker again and you grabbed his shoulder and yanked him back, you told him to leave me be and he said that if you were sticking up for a nobody like me, you were nothing better. He was wrong. You’re a thousand times better. You stuck up for me and I’ll never be able to repay you for that. You just looked at me and I’ve never seen you look so fiery or so livid but you did and you raised your fist and you punched him and he was bleeding and you didn’t stop to help him, you grabbed my arm and you marched me away from them. No one has ever done something like that for me before. Ned says that it’s because you might like me, too, and I think I’m gonna hold on to the hope for a while longer. I want someone as kind as you to like me. And let’s face, you were a badass. It was epic. And I seriously hope you like me back, you amazingly awesome human being.
“You should really listen to Ned more often,” you said, leaning your head on his shoulder and pretending that you hadn’t kind of been tearing up this whole time. Peter pretend not to notice like the chivalrous boy that he was and nodded, chuckling. “Yeah, I should, right?”
This one’s gonna be short, because May is bothering me about who I’m always writing to and I promised I’d explain. I hope you don’t mind that I’m gonna tell her about you. These letters just help me blow off some steam and I guess it makes me feel pretty good to think maybe you’d potentially wanna read them someday. I don’t know. I think it’d be cool to give them to you, but I doubt that day will come. I think I already wrote that in a letter. Damn. I’ll move on. You got detention for punching Flash, sorry about that. Still, you told me that I shouldn’t feel bad about it because the guy had it coming. He totally did. You’re really cool. I’m gonna stop now because this letter is lame bye I like you.
You poking the dimple emerging on Peter’s cheek and he wrinkled his nose, cringing back. You kissed the little indent. He didn’t want you to ever stop kissing him. The little I like you placed at the end of most of the letters really sealed the deal.
Aunt May is now dying to meet you. I’m so sorry. I hope you never actually meet her because she’ll probably ask you to marry me and hit on you on my behalf just because she’s afraid I won’t be able to do it myself. She thinks you’re awesome. It’s probably because you punched someone. May is very big on girl power. I think you’d like her. Maybe you could meet her one day? I don’t know why I’m asking you’re not actually reading this and it’s a rhetorical question so yeah. Did I mention I like you? You gave me your book to read today after I mentioned that the series was something I was interested in. Seriously, you just whipped out the whole series and told me to read it whenever. You have the nicest smile when you smile at me. Please stop having such a nice smile. It’s unfair for the rest of us and I keep liking you more and more. It’s getting out of hand. Ned thinks so, too.
“See, that was a situation where you shouldn’t have listened to Ned.”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Should I keep reading?”
“I wouldn’t forgive you if you stopped.”
I can’t stop thinking about you. It’s going to drive me mad. I like you so much it’s gonna suffocate me. Talking to you is the highlight of my day. My affection for you keeps growing and growing and growing as time passes us by and I don’t know what to do about because if I tell you I could either lose you or have the opportunity to be with the greatest person I’ve ever known besides my aunt and my uncle and Tony Stark, but if I don’t tell you I could lose you. Either way, I could potentially never be with you. And I can’t take the risk. Maybe I should just get over you. Maybe I’d be better off.
Without wait, Peter flipped to the final letter.
It’s been awhile. Sorry about that. I thought I’d try to move on. I tried to like Liz, I figured I could at least try, but she doesn’t compare even though she’s very nice to me, too. She’s not you. You’re the only you. You’re Y/N and I like Y/N not Liz and you’re Y/N and I no longer know what I’m saying. Michelle told me you’re avoiding me because of Liz and that you think I like her and it’s making you upset. Don’t be upset with me. That’s the last thing I wan. I just wanna scream HEY Y/N YOU LOVELY HUMAN BEING YOU I LIKE YOU DON’T HATE ME BECAUSE I LIKE YOU AND YEAH I LIKE YOU DATE ME LOVE ME. I said love. I’m gonna go now. Bye.
Peter placed it atop the stack, and you added the tenth one there as well. He wasn’t going to be embarrassed about his feelings. They were right there, right in front of you, his heart already read aloud and listened to you and appreciated by you. The thought seized him and made him lace his fingers through yours, shy smile shy eyes that met yours before closing and kissing you, and everything about him was soft. Soft lips that slanted against yours and kissed you in the way that anyone in love would want to be kissed, with love and with passion and as if he’d never want to do anything else for the rest of his life. Soft hands that tentatively found their way to your hips but didn’t go beyond there, soft hands that caressed your face in that adoring way he did and wound in your hair. Soft eyes that locked on yours and didn’t look away when you both broke for a second, your breathing labored. His forehead pressed against yours. He didn’t want to pull away, ever.
May casually strolled into the room, and Peter pulled back quickly but with annoyance, raising his eyebrows at his aunt. She’d let the boy have his kiss, happy- so happy- that her Peter was getting what he deserved, but she was still the parental figure and parental figures had to be responsible. That’s what she had been told, anyway. “Sorry, honey, I just wanted to be introduced to that girl you were telling me about just, like, two days ago.” She said cheerfully, smiling adoringly at her nephew and then at you. You grinned back, standing up to introduce yourself.
“I’m Y/N, it’s really nice to meet you, Mrs. Parker,” you stuck your hand out, but May pulled you in for a hug instead.
“You can just call me May.” She gave you a squeeze, very motherly, and you missed Peter’s outstanding beam as he watched his two favorite girls embrace. May lightly shoved Peter’s shoulder, then said, “Peter, are you gonna invite her to stay for dinner or what?”
“Maaayyyy, let me get my own dates,” he pouted, ushering her out of the room. When she left, her laugh still ringing throughout the apartment, Peter leaned causally against his doorframe in a painful attempt to look cool. “So, Y/N, would you stay for dinner?” Before you could reply with an obvious, May’s voice called, “Or forever? You could stay forever. I’d be on board with that!”
Peter blushed, rushing out of the room to tell her to keep quiet, but you didn’t mind one bit. Staying with Peter Benjamin Parker forever didn’t sound like a bad life, not one bit.
You hadn’t left Peter’s apartment until nearly ten o’clock, and even then, he had rode the train home with you to prolong the night. He kissed you at your doorstep twice, once on the lips, swift and sweet, and then once on the forehead, tender and caring. Then, he left, continuously looking back at your grinning face so much that he walked straight into your mailbox and nearly squashed a stray cat that had been wandering by. You smiled all the way up to your bedroom, thinking about the adorable idiot that had ensnared your heart in his hands. That night, he wrote you another letter, this time with the intent of giving it to you.
He delivered it at your locker a week later (he had spent that week editing it over and over again, making sure his feelings were true), appearing just as you were shutting the metal doors with an envelope in his outstretched hand. He was fidgeting, yes, but he was excited, and you took the letter in your hands after leaping into his arms and sending him flying across the hallway. He didn’t fall, though, which was a plus.
I’ve heard from a few people that I don’t know what love is because I’m fifteen and technically my brain hasn’t fully developed. Here’s the thing, though: I don’t care. There’s not one part of me that cares about what science says right now. They can say what they want. Maybe, just maybe, I don’t know what love is. Maybe I haven’t the slightest clue. But maybe is a word that means you can never really know and that everything just a possibility. So, there’s only a very slight possibility that I don’t know what love is, but there’s a greater possibility that I do. However, for now, I’ll tell you what I do know. I know that when you smile at me even for just a second I can feel my entire heart quicken in its beats. I feel my pulse racing. I know that when you look at me in that soft and sweet way you do I feel for just a second that nothing could ever possibly hurt me as long as you keep looking at me like that, forever. I know your laugh makes me blush and that when you kiss me I’m completely invincible. I know that every song on my playlist can connect back to you someway somehow and I know that the sound of your voice can make my whole day.
If that’s not love, then I have no clue what love is. I’m pretty sure it’s love, though. Correct me if I’m wrong, my love. I’m pretty sure that these feelings that flutter around my stomach day and night and make miss you even when you’ve only been gone for five minutes are love, because what else could they possibly be? I love you, and you’ve made the world, my world, a better place just by making yourself at home in my heart. So thank you for letting me love you and loving me in return. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to repay you, just like I can’t repay you for punching Flash, but I plan on spending as long as you’ll allow me trying to do so.
Your very in love boyfriend who knows this is too sappy but doesn’t care,
Peter Benjamin Parker :)
He added the smiley face in, a quick little doodle, and sometimes you liked to joke that the smiley face was what made you know you were in love with him. It wasn’t. It was everything else about that wonderful boy. But it the smiley face was certainly adorable.