word count; 1.6k / fluff & angst
summary; when you met peter at seven years old, your parents joked about the two of you growing up and falling in love; they never thought they'd be right.
au; childhood best friends to lovers
a/n; here is the second part to the latest update. hope you guys enjoy!
originally posted on my bts tumblr: hobiance.tumblr.com / sorry if there are any name changes i didn't catch. this was written with a different original pairing and i had to adapt it, so there may be some discrepancies.
-=-=-=-
When you woke up that morning, you found that you were still on the couch, the scent of freshly brewed coffee floating in the room. A decorative pillow was clutched tightly to your chest, and a fluffy blanket was tucked around you.
Huh, that's weird. You didn't remember grabbing it from the bedroom before you fell asleep on the couch. And why did you smell coffee? You definitely hadn't brewed any.
Lost in your thoughts, you almost didn't hear the soft footsteps making their way from the kitchen to the living room.
"Y/N?" a soft, familiar voice asked from behind you.
Whipping your head around, a disheveled Peter was presented in your line of sight; he was standing in the doorway with two mugs. His chocolate curls were sticking every which way, and he was still wearing his sweats from the night before.
"Want some coffee?" he gestured towards you with one of the mugs, stepping around the chairs and making his way towards you on the couch when you gave a small nod in confirmation.
"Did you put this blanket on me?" you asked, noticing the way his ears turned red at your question, "I don't remember grabbing it before I fell asleep."
"Yeah," he replied, handing you your mug, "I, uh, didn't want you to get cold. Our heating system sucks ass."
You took a long sip of the coffee, peering over the rim to watch him as you contemplated how you wanted to bring up what happened the previous night. "Where did you go last night?"
"Ned's," he shrugged, "Crashed in his spare bedroom, but came home around 5am. Didn't sleep very well."
You hummed in response and nodded in understanding. Ned only lived a few minutes away, and they'd known each other since grade school; it made sense that he'd go over there. You were surprised that you hadn't guessed it from the beginning.
"Why'd you sleep on the couch?" he asked in return, guilt flashing in his eyes momentarily when he heard your response.
"It didn't feel right to sleep in our bed alone."
An awkward silence hung over the two of you as you sipped your drinks, unsure of what to say. It was clear that most, if not all, of the anger from the night before had already dissipated. Now all that was left was guilt, regret, and a sense of general unease.
"So..." you mumbled, letting the end of the word drag off into nothingness. You still weren't sure why he got so upset in the first place, so you decided to let him guide the conversation.
"I guess I should start by saying I'm sorry," he said shyly, rubbing the back of his neck nervously with his free hand, "I assumed things that weren't true and put words into your mouth rather than allowing you to explain. I jumped to conclusions, and that isn't how communication within healthy relationships should work. I'm sorry."
You set down your mug on the table and sighed, scooting closer to him until your thighs were just barely brushing against each other. "Why did my response upset you so much?" you asked, not unkindly; your voice only held a tinge of curiosity, and Peter knew that you were genuinely confused as to why he'd flown off the handle seemingly out of nowhere.
"It's just—" he paused, trying to come up with the right words, "It's just that my insecurities get the best of me sometimes, which I know isn't a real excuse. A lot of my friends are getting engaged, and even if they haven't, they've at least had conversations with their partners about it. I guess that it just made me feel like— like you don't see a future with me. Like this will all end because you end up finding a guy who's nicer or smarter or better than me. And when you said what you said last night, my mind twisted it to make me believe that all of my fears were true."
"Pete," you reached up to wipe away the tears that had slipped out, "I never meant to upset you. I'm sorry. I should've phrased my comment better and taken your insecurities into consideration."
"You didn't know," he interrupted you, not wanting you to apologize for something that he didn't view as being your fault, "You couldn't have known."
"Still, my comment was phrased in an insensitive way no matter how you look at it." You held up a finger to his lips when he tried to argue back. "Can I explain my response in a better way than I did last night?"
He nodded, albeit reluctantly. He didn't think you owed him any explanation at all, but if you were determined to, he knew he couldn't stop you.
"I know that some of your friends are already moving into the next stages of their lives, but I'm only twenty, Peter. Marriage isn't something I'm even close to being ready for. In a few years, yes, I would love to get married. For me, marrying you isn't a question of whether— it's a question of when. The 'when' part just isn't meant to happen now."
"You make it sound like being twenty-two is old," he joked, causing a smile to grace your lips. There was the Peter you knew and loved.
"It is old to me," you grinned, leaning up to press a gentle kiss to his soft lips, "From now on, let's talk things out in a calmer manner and try not to bottle up our emotions. Okay?"
"Okay," he breathed, pulling you closer as he silently vowed to never let you go again.
-=-=-=-
You were 24 and Peter was 26 when he held your hand in his, stroking soothing circles into your skin with his thumb as you walked down the gravel path. It was a beautiful spring day; the flowers were in full bloom, and the lively trees swayed in the gentle, cool breeze.
As you neared the bench at the end of the path that overlooked the small pond, you felt a warm tingle spread throughout your body. This had always been yours and Peter's favorite spot in town, and it never failed to make you feel an inexplicable sense of home.
Just after taking a seat on the bench, you turned your head to the side in confusion when you felt Peter's hand pull out of your grasp. Your questioning look turned into one of astonishment, shock, and disbelief when he sank to one knee in front of you, pulling out a small blue velvet box from the pocket of his pants.
"Yes!" you squealed, tears already flowing down your cheeks. Peter let out a small oof when you flung yourself from the bench and into his arms, squeezing him as tight as you possibly could while burying your face in his neck.
"You didn't even let me give my speech," he chuckled, wrapping his arms around you to hold you close as you cried into his shirt.
"I didn't need to hear it to know my answer was yes," you sniffled in response, pulling away so you could plant a salty kiss to his lips. He smiled into it, only pulling away to open the small box and slide the beautiful wring onto your trembling finger.
"I can't wait to be Mrs. Parker," you giggled, pinching his cheeks, "Our kids better have your cute ass cheeks when they're born."
"And they'd better have your cute ass nose," he booped it with the tip of his finger, letting out a laugh when you leaned forward to press yet another kiss to his lips.
"I love you," you grinned, butterflies exploding in your stomach when the reality of what had just happened finally set in.
"I'm glad," he yelped when you lightly hit his arm, "I mean, you did just agree to spend the rest of your life with me."
-=-=-=-
"Ready?"
You turned your head to look over at your dad, smiling softly when you noticed the tears already gleaming in his eyes. He looped your arm through his and gave your hand a small squeeze.
"Mhm," you turned back to face the large oak doors, heart threatening to beat out of your chest as they were pushed open and your gaze fell on the man you loved with every fibre of your being.
Peter was standing across the church at the altar; his hair was styled away from his face, and his clean black suit looked devastatingly good on his figure. When you met his gaze, you could see that pink tinged his cheeks, his mouth slightly parted as he stared at you in all of your beauty.
Never once did you take your eyes off of your soon-to-be husband as you made your way down the aisle. Whispers of admiration and excitement floated through the room, the occasional sniffle surfacing as well. The two of you had been raised in a small town, so almost everyone you'd grown up with was present.
Peter was practically glowing when your father handed you off to him, allowing you to place your hands in his larger ones when the priest began to speak. Tears threatened to spill over as you stared into his deep brown eyes, an overwhelming feeling of joy seizing your chest. This was the man you were marrying; the man you'd been in love with for ten years and counting.
"You may now kiss the bride," the priest spoke, applause filling the room when Peter squeezed your hands and planted a gentle kiss on your lips. When you pulled away, you felt him brush away the tears painting your face, a giddy smile gracing his lips.
"You look so beautiful, Mrs. Parker," he breathed, a few tears of his own slipping down his cheeks.
In that moment, when he was looking down at you like you were the stars that shined, you were never more sure of the fact that you wanted to spend the rest of your life with him.