#king!peter parker | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

thollandsgirl2013 · 2 days ago

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𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐑𝐨𝐲𝐚𝐥 𝐖𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠

Parings → King!Peter Parker x Reader

Warnings → Royal AU, streamy, old times, fluff

Summary → Princess Y/n got married with King Peter, they're strangers to eachother, but as the night grows, they grew close too.

The grand castle of the Parker family was alive with celebration, guests mingling in the great halls, music playing from every corner, and the scent of roses and candle wax heavy in the air. Yet, for you, Princess Y/N, it felt as though the world had frozen the moment you stood at the altar.

Your thoughts spun as you locked eyes with your soon-to-be husband for the first time.

King Peter Parker stood there, tall and regal, yet there was a softness in his eyes that instantly put you at ease. He wasn’t the stern, unfeeling king you had feared. No, there was something kind in his gaze, something vulnerable even, as though he was just as uncertain about this union as you were.

He was handsome, just like in the portrait, but somehow more boyish, more human, in person. His golden crown, slightly too large for his head, tilted as he looked down at his feet.

When the priest announced you husband and wife, Peter leaned down to kiss you. It wasn’t what you had feared—a possessive, harsh claim. Instead, it was gentle. His lips barely brushed yours, but it sent warmth flooding through your entire body. You blushed fiercely, feeling the heat rush to your cheeks, as his lips lingered just a moment longer.

Peter pulled back, his eyes scanning your face as though making sure you were okay. You offered a small smile in return, feeling shy and awkward under his gaze, but also… safe.

_______

The feast that followed was grand, as expected. The court members and nobility gathered, their laughter filling the room, but you barely noticed. Peter remained by your side the entire evening. He didn’t leave you alone even for a moment, which was both a comfort and a source of nervousness. You exchanged polite greetings with the guests, accepting their congratulations, but all the while, your heart was pounding in your chest.

You occasionally sneaked glances at Peter, who always seemed to catch you looking. Each time, he would offer a soft smile, his hand gently resting over yours.

"You look beautiful," he whispered quietly between the courses of the meal, his voice so soft that only you could hear it over the din of the hall.

Your heart fluttered. "Thank you, Your Majesty."

"Peter," he corrected gently. "We are married now. I’d like for you to call me Peter."

You nodded, feeling a surge of warmth at his kindness. "Peter."

________

The celebration had ended all too soon, and with it, the part you had been dreading most had arrived—the wedding night. The large wooden doors of the royal chambers closed with a soft thud, leaving you alone with your thoughts and the anxious pounding of your heart.

You stood in front of the grand mirror in the royal bedchamber, staring at your reflection as the maids moved around you in a flurry, helping you out of the heavy layers of your wedding dress. The mirror’s polished surface reflected back the image of a girl who hardly recognized herself. A girl barely eighteen, now a queen, married to a man she had never truly known until today. The thin, delicate nightgown the maids had dressed you in felt foreign, too intimate for a moment you weren't ready for. The silk was smooth against your skin, brushing against you like a whisper, yet it did little to ease the knot of nerves in your stomach.

“You’ll be fine, my lady,” one of the maids murmured as she fastened the lace at the back of your gown. “The king is a good man.”

You swallowed hard, nodding, though her words did little to comfort you. Now, after a day of rigid formality and pleasantries, you found yourself here, in his chambers, awaiting the consummation of a marriage that had been decided for you.

The bedchamber was vast and imposing, yet intimate in its design. The tall stone walls were softened by the flickering light of the hearth, the flames casting dancing shadows across the room. The large bed dominated the space, covered in sheets of crimson velvet, gold embroidery glistening in the dim light. It was already turned down, as though beckoning you to fulfill the expectation of the night. The sight of it made your cheeks flush, and you quickly averted your gaze, your breath catching in your throat.

Your mother’s voice echoed in your mind: 'Obey your husband.' That was all the guidance she had offered, a simple instruction that held the weight of so much more. But how? How were you supposed to obey when you barely knew the man? What was expected of you beyond the formality of your vows? What did it mean to be a wife on a night like this? The answers eluded you, leaving you trembling as you tried to prepare yourself for what was to come.

What if this was the start of a life where you were nothing but a vessel for heirs? The thought was terrifying. What if Peter was kind tonight, only to grow distant or cold as time went on? Or worse, what if he was indifferent, treating this night as nothing more than a duty? You couldn’t bear the thought of being nothing more than a name on a royal ledger, a queen in title but not in heart.

The maids finished their work, their hands briefly brushing against your shoulders as they straightened the delicate straps of your gown. “There you are, my lady,” one of them said, stepping back to admire their work.

You offered them a tight smile, unable to find your voice. The tension in your chest had only grown, tightening with every passing second. Then, as if summoned by your anxious thoughts, there came a soft knock at the door. The maids exchanged quick glances before bowing and scurrying away, leaving you alone.

The door creaked open slowly, and in stepped Peter, the king—now your husband.

He paused for a moment in the doorway, his presence filling the room even before he fully entered. He looked different now, far from the regal figure he had presented during the day’s ceremonies. Gone were the heavy robes embroidered with the crest of New York, the polished armor and golden crown. In their place was a simple white shirt, the fabric loose over his broad shoulders, and soft linen trousers. His hair, chestnut brown and slightly wavy, was a bit disheveled, as if he had run his fingers through it in nervous habit. He seemed as uneasy as you felt.

The sight of him in such informal attire—vulnerable in a way you hadn’t expected—did little to ease the tension within you. In fact, it made everything feel more real. More immediate. He was no longer just a figure on a throne or a portrait hanging in the royal halls. He was here, in this room, about to share this night with you.

Peter cleared his throat awkwardly, stepping further into the chamber. His eyes flicked toward you, then quickly away, as if unsure where to look. His cheeks flushed a deep pink, the color creeping up his neck, betraying his own nervousness. For a moment, the two of you stood in silence, neither knowing what to say or do. The air between you was thick with the unspoken expectations of the night, the weight of tradition pressing down on you both.

“I… I hope you’re comfortable,” Peter finally said, his voice quiet, hesitant. His eyes darted to the bed, then back to the floor, as though he couldn’t quite bring himself to look at you.

You nodded, though the truth was far from it. You felt anything but comfortable, standing there in a nightgown that felt too revealing, in a room that felt too large, with a man you barely knew. Your hands fidgeted with a lace of your gown, twisting the delicate fabric between your fingers as you tried to find the words to respond.

“I am,” you managed to say, though your voice was barely above a whisper. You weren’t sure if he heard you.

Another silence stretched between you, thick and heavy. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest, the sound of it deafening in your ears. What now? What were you supposed to do? You had no experience, no knowledge of what was expected beyond the vague instruction to "obey." But Peter didn’t seem any more certain than you were.

Peter took a tentative step closer, then stopped, clearly unsure of how to proceed. His fingers twitched at his sides, and you could see the tension in his jaw as he struggled to find the right words.

“I don’t want you to feel… pressured,” he said finally, his voice soft. “We don’t have to—I mean, I understand if you’re not ready.”

His words surprised you. You had expected something different—something more commanding, more certain. But instead, there was hesitation in his voice, a gentleness you hadn’t anticipated. He was giving you a choice, something you hadn’t expected to have on this night.

Your eyes met his for the first time since he entered the room, and in that moment, something shifted. The tension that had gripped you both began to ease, if only slightly. There was uncertainty in his gaze, yes, but also kindness. He wasn’t the imposing king you had imagined, nor the distant figure from the portrait in your father’s palace. He was just Peter, a man as unsure and nervous as you were.

A breath you hadn’t realized you were holding slipped from your lips. You nodded, offering him the smallest of smiles, a gesture that said more than words could in that moment. This was uncharted territory for both of you, but perhaps, with time, you could navigate it together.

Peter’s shoulders relaxed slightly at your silent reassurance, and though the night was still young, the weight of expectation no longer seemed as overwhelming. He moved closer, until he was standing right in front of you. He raised his hand but stopped, looking at you for permission.

You gave a small nod, and he gently cupped your cheek. His touch was soft, almost hesitant, as though he were afraid to hurt you.

Peter cleared his throat, stepping back slightly as his hand dropped to his side. “Would you like to sit, perhaps?” He asked, gesturing toward a small chaise near the fireplace. His voice was soft, as though afraid to disturb the heavy silence.

“Yes, I—thank you,” you replied, barely louder than a whisper.

You crossed the room and sank down onto the chaise, smoothing the delicate fabric of your nightgown nervously over your knees. Peter followed, sitting on the opposite end of the chaise, leaving a respectful distance between you. His hands fidgeted in his lap, the candlelight playing over his sharp features and casting soft shadows across his face.

“I—uh—hope everything today wasn’t too overwhelming,” Peter began, his voice tight with uncertainty. “It must have been… a lot.”

You looked up at him, finding comfort in his unease. It made him feel more real, more approachable. “It was. I didn’t expect so many people,” you admitted, finally meeting his gaze. “But I suppose a royal wedding is meant to be grand.”

Peter chuckled softly, nodding. “Yes, they certainly made sure of that.” He shifted a little, his eyes flickering between you and the floor. “You looked really beautiful in your wedding gown.”

Your cheeks warmed again at his compliment. “Thank you. You looked very regal in your attire.”

He smiled, a little more at ease now. “I’m not sure I’m used to it yet. This crown feels like it weights more than I do.”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, and Peter’s smile widened at the sound. The tension in the room seemed to ease just a fraction. His gaze softened, and for the first time, he seemed to be truly looking at you, not just the princess he was expected to marry.

“You must be tired,” he said, his voice quieter now, almost tender. “It’s been a long day.”

“I am, a little,” you admitted. “But… I don’t really know what we’re supposed to do now.” Your voice faltered, the weight of the unspoken expectations between you sinking back in. “No one told me what to expect.”

Peter's face flushed at your confession, his own discomfort evident. “I… I wasn’t really told much either,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “Just that… well, tonight we’re supposed to…” His voice trailed off, both of you too embarrassed to say the words aloud.

Silence settled between you again, the only sound the crackling of the fire. Your heart raced, not from fear, but from the uncertainty of what came next.

Peter cleared his throat, looking away. "We could just… talk? Get to know each other.” His voice was hesitant, offering you an escape from the weight of tradition.

Relief flooded through you at his suggestion. “I would like that. I mean… talking. I’d like to talk.”

Peter nodded, his shoulders relaxing slightly as he shifted closer, though still maintaining a respectful distance. “Well, um… let’s start with something simple, then,” he said, smiling awkwardly. “What… what’s your favorite flower?”

You blinked at him, caught off guard by the innocent question. “My favorite flower?”

He nodded again, his expression almost boyish in its eagerness. “Yes. Mine are peonies.”

A small smile tugged at your lips. “I think I like lavender best. The scent reminds me of home.”

Peter smiled warmly at that. “Lavender is lovely,” he agreed. “I’ll make sure the gardens are filled with it when spring comes.”

You felt your chest tighten at the gesture. It was small, but it was thoughtful, and it made you feel… seen, in a way you hadn’t expected.

“What about you?” You asked, feeling a little braver now. “What do you like to do in your free time?”

Peter’s eyes lit up, clearly grateful for the shift in focus. “Oh, well… I enjoy reading. Especially books about physics and biology. I’m not much of a fighter, but I like to understand how battles are won. I'm still learning.” He paused, then added shyly, “And… sometimes, when no one’s looking, I like to sketch. I’m not very good, but it’s relaxing.”

You tilted your head in surprise. “You draw?”

Peter shrugged, a little embarrassed. “A little. Nothing fancy.”

“I’d like to see them sometime,” you said softly, and Peter’s cheeks flushed again, though he looked pleased by the offer.

“I—well, maybe I’ll show you one day,” he mumbled, smiling at the thought. His fingers brushed yours where they rested on the chaise between you, and both of you froze at the soft contact. His eyes flicked to yours, questioning, but he didn’t pull away.

“Are you… alright?” He asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded, your heart thudding in your chest. “I’m alright. Are you?”

Peter smiled softly. “I am.”

His fingers intertwine with yours, and in that quiet moment, something changed. You both stood at the same time, an unspoken agreement passing between you. Now standing in front of each other, the flickering light of the fire bathed your faces in a soft glow. His eyes, warm and tender, locked with yours, and for the first time, it felt like the distance between you had completely disappeared.

Peter’s hand reached out, hovering just beside your arm, as if asking for permission without words. You gave him a small nod, allowing him to take the next step. Gently, he placed his hand on your arm, his fingers grazing the bare skin of your shoulder, sending a shiver through you.

His gaze softened, and though you could sense the nervousness still within him, there was also a newfound determination. You could see it in the way his eyes flickered with uncertainty but also with trust. Slowly, his hand moved from your shoulder, trailing down to your waist.

“You’re so beautiful, Y/N,” he whispered again, his voice full of awe, as if he were still in disbelief that you were standing there, with him.

Peter took a step closer, his breath mixing with yours in the small space between you. You could feel the heat radiating from him, and yet there was no rush, no urgency. He was taking his time, waiting for you to lead him through this delicate moment.

Your hand found its way to his chest, resting gently against his heart. His heartbeat was steady but quick, mirroring your own. You looked up into his eyes, a question lingering there, and he answered it with the slightest of nods.

Peter raised his hand again, this time cupping your cheek as he had before, his thumb brushing over your skin with the lightest of touches. His eyes, filled with affection and understanding, never left yours.

"I’ve never… done this before," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper, his thumb continuing to caress your cheek.

Your eyes widened slightly. "You haven’t?"

He shook his head, a small, almost shy smile playing on his lips. "No. I wanted to wait. I never thought it was right… to be vulnerable with someone I didn’t care about."

The honesty in his words made your heart swell. For the first time, you felt truly connected to him. He wasn’t just the king you were supposed to marry—he was Peter, a man who, like you, was stepping into the unknown with nothing but trust and hope.

"You’re kind," you said softly, your fingers tracing the fabric of his tunic, feeling the strength beneath it but also the tenderness in his actions.

Peter’s smile widened, a flicker of relief passing through his eyes. "And you’re enchanting, Y/N."

Your heart raced at his words, and you felt the tension in the room begin to dissolve completely. Peter lowered his hand from your cheek, letting it drift to the thin straps of your gown. His fingers hovered there for a moment, as if asking for permission once more.

"May I?" He whispered, his voice almost trembling with care.

You nodded, your breath catching in your throat as his fingers gently slid the straps from your shoulders. His movements were slow, deliberate, giving you all the time in the world to pull away if you needed to—but you didn’t. You trusted him entirely.

His touch was soft, almost reverent, as though he were afraid of hurting you, but you could feel the warmth radiating from his body as he stepped even closer. There was no rush, no pressure, just the two of you in this quiet moment, standing before one another, your hearts open and vulnerable.

Peter’s eyes searched yours as if seeking reassurance, and you offered him a small smile, one that said you were ready, that you were in this together.

As the fabric of your gown fell away, leaving you bare before him, you instinctively crossed your arms over your chest, feeling exposed.

Peter’s eyes softened, and he stepped closer, his hands gently resting on your arms. "You don’t need to hide from me," he said gently. "You’re gorgeous. I want you to know that."

Your heart swelled at his words, and slowly, hesitantly, you lowered your arms. Peter’s gaze never strayed from your face. He wasn’t looking at you with hunger or possession—he was looking at you with admiration, with respect.

He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to your bare shoulder, then another to your collarbone. His lips were warm, gentle, and you felt yourself relax under his touch.

Peter took a small step back, his eyes still on yours, before his hands moved to the hem of his shirt. You watched as he slowly pulled it over his head, exposing the toned lines of his chest and the subtle definition of his muscles. His movements were careful, deliberate, as if he was just as nervous as you, yet determined to let you in.

You couldn’t help but let your eyes wander, taking in the sight of him. His skin was smooth, his frame lean but strong, and for a moment, you found yourself staring, completely captivated. His arms, his chest, the way his muscles shifted with each breath—it all felt so new, so intimate.

As Peter’s hands moved to the waistband of his pants, he paused for just a second, his eyes meeting yours, silently asking if this was still okay. You gave him a reassuring nod, biting your lip as he pushed the fabric down, leaving him standing in nothing but his boxers.

The sight of him like this—vulnerable, exposed, yet confident—made your cheeks flush with heat. Your eyes briefly flicked down to his body again, admiring the strong lines of his torso, the way his muscles tensed slightly as he stood there, waiting for your reaction.

But then Peter caught you staring, and a soft laugh escaped his lips. "Caught you," he teased, his voice light but gentle, no judgment behind it.

Your face burned, and you quickly looked away, embarrassed by how obvious you’d been. "I wasn’t—I mean, I didn’t mean to stare," you stammered, crossing your arms over your chest again, feeling shy all over.

Peter stepped closer, lifting your chin with his finger so your eyes met his again. There was nothing but warmth and affection in his gaze, no teasing or embarrassment—just understanding.

"It’s okay," he said softly, his hand brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. "I’m looking at you, too."

His words sent a shiver through you, and despite the nerves fluttering in your stomach, you felt a sense of comfort. This was Peter—your husband—and in this moment, it was just the two of you, figuring this out together.

Peter took a deep breath, his own nervousness clear as he rested his forehead against yours. "We’re in this together," he murmured. "No rush, no pressure. Just… us."

You nodded, your heart swelling with warmth at his words. Slowly, you allowed yourself to relax again, leaning into the closeness between you, knowing that you were both equally vulnerable, both equally new to this—but equally willing to explore it together.

When he pulled back again, there was a soft smile on his face. "Let’s go slow," he whispered. "We have all the time in the world."

He moves closer to the bed, pulling back the covers before motioning for you to join him. You hesitate for a second but eventually follow, your feet sinking into the plush rug as you walk. The bed is impossibly large, and as you climb in, you feel a rush of anxiety again. This is really happening.

You settle under the covers, feeling the cool fabric against your skin. Peter climbs in beside you. He hovers over you, admiring you in the dim light.

The warmth of the bed felt foreign to you as the night unfolded, your heart racing with each passing second. You had married King Peter, and now, in the quiet stillness of your wedding night, you both lay together, trying to navigate this new reality.

Peter leaned in and kissed you. His lips were soft, gentle, as though he was afraid to push too far. The kiss was tender, innocent, but it sent a warmth spreading through your body. You felt his hand on your waist, pulling you closer, and you let yourself fall into the moment.

As the initial awkwardness melted away, Peter had been gentle, kind, and patient—his touch tentative, as though he was afraid to move too quickly. Your heart raced not from fear, but from the sheer intimacy of the moment, the connection forming between two strangers.

When your bodies intertwined, it wasn’t rushed or forceful. Peter had taken his time, checking in with you every step of the way, his eyes never leaving yours as he asked, “Are you okay?”

You had nodded, feeling a blend of nervousness and excitement, and as the night deepened, your new bond solidified. There was passion but also care, a tenderness that neither of you had expected. And when it was over, you lay there, your body still trembling in the aftermath, Peter’s arm wrapped protectively around you as you both drifted off into an exhausted sleep.

__________

The first sensation that stirred you from sleep was warmth — Peter’s warmth, to be precise. His body was nestled against yours, your legs tangled together beneath the soft, silk sheets. Your cheeks flushed when you felt his bare skin pressed intimately against your own. As your eyes fluttered open, you saw Peter, still asleep, his arm loosely draped over your waist, his peaceful expression making him look completely at ease.

The events of the night before rushed back into your mind, sending a wave of embarrassment through you. You and Peter had been newlyweds for just a few hours when everything had led to a night full of intimacy. It was beautiful and overwhelming all at once. Now, in the morning light, the reality of it all made your heart race.

You shifted slightly, trying not to disturb him, but the smooth fabric of the sheets slid over your skin, making you more aware of how exposed you were. Naked. Both of you. Your face burned, and you quickly tried to pull away from him, but Peter stirred beside you, his eyes lazily blinking open.

“Mmm, good morning,” he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep, his lips curling into a soft, sleepy smile as he pulled you closer. “Why’re you up so early?”

“Peter,” you whispered urgently, biting your lip. “The maids might—”

Before you could finish, there was a soft knock at the door.

"Your Majesties?" Came the polite but firm voice of a maid from the other side of the door. The sound sent a surge of panic through you.

Peter groaned, still half-asleep, his hand tightening around your waist as he murmured, “Too early... Go back to sleep.”

The knock came again, louder this time. "Your Majesty, we've come to help you prepare for breakfast," the maid’s voice called.

You froze, your eyes widening in alarm as you shook Peter more insistently. “Peter! The maids are here!” You hissed, feeling your pulse quicken. The thought of them walking in now, finding the two of you like this, was mortifying.

Peter blinked, clearly still waking up as he sat up, rubbing his eyes. "Right... Uh..." His face flushed as he became more aware of the situation. “We should—”

But before either of you could do anything, the door creaked open. You barely had time to react before two maids peeked their heads inside. Their eyes widened immediately, taking in the sight of you both tangled in the sheets, your clothes nowhere in sight.

“Oh!” One of the maids gasped, her face turning bright red as she quickly averted her gaze.

“We’re so sorry, Your Majesties!” The other maid exclaimed, trying to hide her shock behind a polite tone, but her voice wavered with amusement.

Peter’s face turned a deep shade of crimson, and you felt your cheeks heat up as well. You quickly pulled the sheets over both of you, hiding your embarrassment. “What are you doing here?” Peter stammered, trying to regain some semblance of dignity.

“We were sent by the court to check on you,” the first maid explained, barely able to contain her laughter. “There’s a tradition to ensure that the marriage is… successful.” She gestured around the room, her eyes dancing with mischief.

The second maid nodded, “We didn’t mean to barge in, but the court is quite curious about the wedding night!”

Peter sighed, running a hand through his messy hair. “Okay, okay, we get it. Can you please… give us a moment?”

“Yes, of course!” Both maids hurried to leave, though not before you caught a glimpse of their stifled giggles. They quickly pulled the door shut behind them, but you could hear their excited whispers and laughter retreating down the hall.

Peter groaned again, burying his face in his hands. "Well... that’s one way to start the day," he muttered, his voice muffled.

You let out a nervous laugh, feeling a mix of embarrassment and relief that it hadn’t been worse. “They’re going to tell everyone, aren’t they?” You asked, already knowing the answer.

Peter dropped his hands and shot you a sheepish smile. “Oh, definitely. The whole court will know by lunch that the King and Queen consummated their marriage.” His tone was laced with sarcasm, but there was a glint of amusement in his eyes.

You groaned, covering your face with your hands. “This is so embarrassing! I can’t believe they just walked in!”

He laughed softly, pulling you into his arms. “Hey, relax. It’s fine. Let them talk. We’re married — this was supposed to happen.”

“I know, but…” You peeked up at him through your fingers, feeling shy. “I didn’t expect them to actually come in.”

Peter smirked, his confidence showing more now that he was fully awake. “Well, they’ve got to confirm it, right? It’s their job to report that everything went according to plan.” His eyes softened as he gazed at you, his hand gently stroking your arm. “Besides, last night was… perfect.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, and you couldn’t help but smile, feeling the embarrassment melt away. “It was.”

Peter nodded, leaning closer to press a soft kiss to your forehead. “I’m glad it was you,” he murmured, his voice low and sincere. “I know we didn’t have much choice in the matter, but… I think we can make this work.”

Your breath caught at his words. You looked into his eyes, seeing the warmth and affection there, and suddenly, all your nerves and worries about the marriage seemed to vanish. “I think so too,” you whispered, reaching up to touch his cheek.

Peter smiled, leaning down to capture your lips in a gentle kiss. His touch was soft but full of emotion, and you melted into him, feeling a sense of closeness that had only begun to form the night before. When he pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours, the both of you just soaking in the quiet moment.

Peter pulled back slightly, his gaze wandering over you. “You look beautiful, you know that? I could get lost in your eyes.”

You felt your cheeks heat up again at his compliment. “Thank you.”

“How about we get some breakfast? I could definitely use some food after last night.” Peter said after a few moments.

“Sounds perfect,” you agreed, though you didn’t make any immediate move to untangle yourself from him.

Reluctantly, you both started to get up, reaching for the scattered clothing that had been left in a trail from the night before. As you dressed, you couldn’t help but glance over at Peter every now and then, feeling a sense of comfort and warmth in the easy way you both moved around each other. It felt… natural, even though everything was still so new.

Once you were both dressed, Peter wrapped his arms around you from behind, resting his chin on your head. “You know,” he began, his voice soft, “I never really imagined what this would be like… being married to you.”

You tilted your head slightly, curious. “Oh? And now that you are?”

Peter chuckled, pressing a kiss to the side of your neck. “Now that I am… I think I’m really lucky to have you.”

Your heart swelled at his words, and you turned in his arms to face him, smiling up at him. “I'm lucky to have you too.”

He grinned, his eyes sparkling as he leaned in for another kiss, this one deeper, more passionate. When you finally pulled away, both of you were breathless, and you couldn’t help but laugh at the giddiness you felt.

“Okay, we really should get breakfast before the maids come back again,” you joked, trying to regain some composure.

Peter nodded, though his grin didn’t fade. “Agreed. But first…” He gently tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, his eyes full of affection. “Thank you for last night. It meant more to me than you know.”

Your chest tightened with emotion, and you leaned into his touch, whispering, “It meant a lot to me too.”

With one last kiss, you and Peter finally left the bedroom, hand in hand.

__________

Aunt May was waiting at the breakfast table for the royal couple. You and Peter hurriedly got dressed in appropriate attires, and made your way to the grand dining hall.

When you entered the dining room, you were greeted by Aunt May—Peter’s aunt and one of the most influential women in his life. She was seated at the head of the table, sipping tea with a knowing smile on her face.

“Well, well,” May said with a playful grin, her eyes twinkling as she looked between the two of you. “Look who finally decided to show up. You two must’ve had a long night.”

Peter blushed immediately, his cheeks turning bright red as he stammered, “Aunt May, please—”

“So,” she said, a teasing smirk playing on her lips. “I hear the marriage was quite the success.”

Peter nearly choked on his tea, his cheeks flushing red as he shot you a quick, embarrassed glance.

“Aunt May…” he muttered, clearly mortified.

May chuckled, clearly enjoying her nephew’s discomfort. “Oh, don’t be so shy, Peter. It’s a good thing! Everyone’s been waiting to hear about the royal union.”

You couldn’t help but smile, though your cheeks were just as red as Peter’s. The tension from the night before had melted away, replaced with a growing sense of comfort around your new husband.

“So, how was your wedding night, my dear nephew? I need to hear it from you.”

Peter flushed, a mixture of embarrassment and amusement crossing his face.

You couldn’t help but giggle, feeling a sense of comfort in the familial teasing. “I-It was beautiful,” you replied, trying to maintain a straight face.

“Beautiful, huh?” Aunt May raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk on her lips. “I expected nothing less from my boy. You both look positively glowing.”

“Can we not, please.” Peter groaned.

“Okay okay, let’s eat! I made your favorite, Peter—pancakes and berries.”

The delicious aroma filled the room as Aunt May led you to the table, where a feast awaited you. As you settled into your seats, you felt a sense of warmth enveloping you, the bond between you, Peter, and Aunt May growing stronger.

As you ate, Aunt May continued to tease Peter about his new responsibilities as a husband and king, and you joined in on the fun, feeling more at ease with each passing moment.

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