Peter accidentally sends a photo of his bruised ribs and abs to the girl he’s been crushing on for eight years instead of Ned while sending the physics notes she asked for to Ned.
💬 328.7k
@margo7685Tuesday, 10:47 PM. Peter’s room smelled like stale pizza and the faint metallic tang of dried blood from his knuckles.
He was sprawled on the floor, back against his bed, phone held above his face. His ribs ached with every breath, a deep, throbbing bruise spreading like a storm cloud across his side.
Peter Parker
typing dude i swear it hurts so bad
reading the reply, groaning how bad?? like, worse than the time you fell off the roof of the school?
He rolled his eyes, even though Ned couldn't see it. Then, with a grunt of effort, he lifted his shirt, angled his phone, and snapped a picture of his torso. The bruise was ugly—black and purple and green at the edges.
Peter Parker
typing like really bad
typing sending you proof
He hit send, tossed his phone onto his chest, and stared at the ceiling. A full three seconds of peace before his phone buzzed again.
Peter Parker
reading, snorting that’s not a bruise, that’s a whole crime scene. you’re gonna look like a bag of overripe fruit by friday
He smiled, small and tired, and was about to type back when another notification slid down from the top of his screen.
Y/N (Maggie)
hey sorry to bother you
can you send me the physics notes from today? i missed class
Peter’s brain short-circuited.
Eight years. Eight years of sitting three rows behind her in classes, eight years of memorizing the way she tucked her hair behind her ear when she was concentrating, eight years of absolutely nothing.
And now she was texting him.
Peter Parker
sitting up way too fast, ribs screaming in protest okay okay okay. physics notes. physics notes. I have them. I have them.
He fumbled for his phone, thumb swiping to his camera roll. His hands were shaking. He scrolled, spotted the photo of his notebook from third period, and hit send.
Peter Parker
here
He leaned back, heart hammering, a giddy little smile tugging at his mouth. She needed his notes. That practically made them best friends. Or something. He was already planning what he’d say if she asked a follow-up question.
His phone buzzed.
Y/N (Maggie)
um
Peter Parker
smiling wider yeah?
Three dots. Disappeared. Appeared again. His stomach dropped.
Y/N (Maggie)
i think you sent me the wrong picture
Peter’s smile evaporated. He opened their conversation.
And immediately wished the floor would swallow him whole.
The photo he’d sent was not the physics notes.
It was the one for Ned. Him, shirtless, torso angled toward the camera, dark purple bruise painting his side, the dim light of his bedroom catching the lean muscle of his shoulders and stomach. In what universe had he thought that was a notebook?
His thumb hovered over the screen. His soul was already leaving his body.
Peter Parker
typing, deleting, typing, deleting
oh my god
that was. that was for my friend. i meant to send you the notes.
the physics notes. i have them. i’m sending them now.
Another message came through before he could hit send.
Y/N (Maggie)
also
Peter stared at the screen, breath caught in his throat.
Y/N (Maggie)
since when are you built like that???
His phone slipped from his fingers and clattered onto the floor.
Eight years. Eight years of silently loving Y/N—Maggie—from a distance. Eight years of staying quiet, staying invisible, staying safe. And in the span of thirty seconds, he’d managed to ruin all of it by sending her a half-naked photo of himself like some kind of accidental thirst trap.
Peter Parker
grabbing his phone, typing frantically it’s not what it looks like
pausing, rereading his message, groaning oh my god that’s exactly what it looks like
A new text came through. From Ned.
Ned Leeds
bro why did you send me the homework
Peter stared at the screen. Then at the ceiling. Then at the ceiling again, because he had no other options.
Peter Parker
typing to Ned don’t. just. don’t.
typing to Maggie it was an accident. i promise. please forget you saw that.