𝐏𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐫 𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐭 𝐁𝐨𝐨𝐤

Warm Hands, Warmer Heart

Parings → Peter Parker x Reader

Warnings → Mentions of period pain/cramps, Comfort, Fluff

Summary →Peter takes care of you during painful period cramps with cuddles and warmth.

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You weren't even being dramatic this time. Your uterus was literally trying to murder you.

Every inch of your body aches, your back, your legs, your stomach. It felt like someone had balled up a bunch of cramps and shoved them directly into your lower abdomen, then gave them a steel bat and told them to go to town. You'd been lying in bed all day, curled in a sad, pathetic ball, quietly whimpering into your pillow while Netflix played in the background.

The bedroom door creaked open.

"Hey, baby," Peter's voice was soft, careful, like he was approaching a wounded animal. "How're you feeling?"

You just groaned, not even bothering to lift your head.

Peter stepped in fully and shut the door behind him, already shrugging off his hoodie. "That bad, huh?"

You nodded into the pillow.

"I brought reinforcements." He held up a small shopping bag and a microwave-safe heating pad like a trophy. "Chocolate. Painkillers. Gatorade. The purple one you like. And this little baby's been in the microwave for exactly two minutes and thirty seconds-hot, but not 'burn your uterus' hot."

You finally peeked up at him, eyes tired but grateful. "I love you."

He grinned. "I know. Move over."

You scooted the tiniest bit, wincing as your stomach clenched again. Peter crawled into bed behind you, carefully tucking himself around your body like a spoon-shaped security blanket.

"Okay," he whispered, gently placing the heating pad over your stomach and wrapping an arm around your waist. "Mission: Save My Girlfriend from Her Evil Womb begins now."

You snorted, even through the pain.

"Want meds first, or just cuddles for a minute?"

"Cuddles," you mumbled. "Forever."

"Forever, it is."

He kissed the back of your neck and nuzzled into you, hand resting right above the heating pad. You could feel the warmth of his palm even through your hoodie, and it was somehow more comforting than the pad itself.

After a few minutes of peaceful silence, Peter shifted a little.

"Hey, question," he said. "Why does your uterus have to be so dramatic every month? Like, she could just... chill."

You cracked a small smile. "She's a diva."

"A menace."

"A terrorist."

Peter chuckled. "If I could fight her for you, I would. Like, get in there, Spider-style. Web her to the wall and be like, 'ma'am, you need to calm down.'"

You laughed weakly. "You'd get eaten alive."

"I'd do it for you," he whispered, brushing his fingers down your arm. "Every single month."

He reached over to grab the water bottle and painkillers from the bag. "Okay, meds time. You gotta eat something with it, though. I brought soup and chocolate."

You sat up slowly with a groan. "What kind of chocolate?"

"Only your favorites." He pulled out a bar of Dairy Milk, a mini Toblerone, and a KitKat. "This is not a drill. This is period protocol."

You giggled and reached for the Dairy Milk. "You're spoiling me."

"I'm taking care of you." Peter handed you the painkiller with the water. "Now hurry and take this so we can get back to cuddling."

You swallowed the pill and lay back against him, letting your body fully relax.

Peter played with your hair as he talked about his day-silly little stories from campus, something about Ned accidentally crashing a student council Zoom meeting, and how MJ roasted a frat boy into oblivion for wearing socks with sandals. You weren't even fully listening, but his voice and the rise and fall of his chest against your back were grounding.

"Hey, Pete?" You murmured after a while.

"Yeah, sweetheart?"

"I'm sorry I'm all grumpy and gross."

He leaned down and kissed your temple. "Shut up. You're not gross. You're in pain, and I love you."

You blinked back a small tear. Stupid hormones.

"I don't deserve you."

He shifted so you were facing him, his fingers tilting your chin up so he could look into your eyes. "I want to be here. You don't have to 'deserve' anything. This is what love looks like, babe. It's taking care of each other when things suck."

You reached for him and wrapped your arms around his middle, burying your face into his chest.

Peter just held you tighter.

Eventually, he reached for your phone. "I'm putting on Pride and Prejudice. The 2005 version. Don't even try to argue."

You didn't.

He held you the entire time. Rubbed circles into your back. Let you shove your cold feet between his calves. Feed you little squares of chocolate every time you looked sad. Kissed your forehead every time you winced.

And when you finally dozed off against his chest, Peter whispered, "I love you," like a vow.

Even your uterus couldn't fight that.

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