#on who's just a witness* * eating a piece of toast while frantically emoting towards a blank spot on the wall

[starryeyedsweetheart]

What Happened to Us? | Part Four

Author: @starryeyedsweetheart

Pairing: Peter Parker & Reader

Word Count: 3693

Note: so this is the last part of the mini fic thank you everyone who has shown their support and made the experience of writing this so much fun i love you all

Part One | Part Two | Part Three

I hadn’t even gone inside yet and I already hated my life. Before I could even rethink my decision, my mom’s car is nothing but a dot in the distance. Blinking slowly, I wonder if what I’m seeing is actually what Flash’s parties are truly like. I’ve heard rumors of how wild they get, but never in my life did I think I’d witness George Hewitt peeing in one of the shrubs while three of his best friends egg him on with blissful cheers.

Nothing could have stopped me from staying outside the rest of the night and avoiding human interaction. Nothing until I see George Hewitt turn around, his pants still down around his ankles and a red solo cup raised to the sky. I quickly turn away and that’s when I decide to glide towards the front door, hand over my eyes as I pass by the gleeful laughter of him and his friends.

As soon as I’m through the threshold, the pungent, sour smell of alcohol smothers me. Flash was behind a booth, bopping his head and fist pumping to the beat of the song he was playing. The bass of the music shakes the whole house, yet no one seems to care as they bounce around and grind in the large living space. Looking to my right, people were pouring drinks into red solo cups. Others were making out on the counter. Then, through the raunchy bodies of high school teenagers, I see a familiar mess of brown curls and tired eyes eating a piece of toast.

Upon noticing her, I flock towards her. Her brows rise in question as I stick to her side, eyes frantically searching the party and disliking everything I see about it.

“What happened to you don’t like Flash, so you’re not going to the party?” Michelle questions, voice flat, yet there was a hint of teasing.

“What happened to you don’t like people, so you’re not going to the party?” I retort.

A ghost of a smirk flashes over her. Before she could respond, we both see the slight movement of the front door opening, two people sneaking inside. Peter and Ned. And would you look at that? Ned was wearing his new hat. My heart twists at the sight.

“You know, maybe you should try talking to him.” I rip my gaze from the two boys to see Michelle’s somewhat sorrowful expression. This was the first emotion I’ve seen on her that wasn’t disgust or indifference.

“He doesn’t want to talk,” I mutter, surprised she could even hear me above the loud music.

“Then make him listen.”

A body appears on the other side of the kitchen island, causing myself to jump but for Michelle to stay utterly still. Before me was no other than Flash, his smile wide and excited.

“I’m so happy you came!” he cheers.

Michelle rolls her eyes as I mutter a sorry excuse of a reply. As Flash begins to ramble on and on about how great his hair looks because he bought a new hair gel from Macedonia, I look over his shoulder to see Peter. Surprisingly, our eyes meet. His brown eyes, even from here, are blank and emotionless. The only tell I had to see if he felt anything towards me was the way his jaw clenches. Before another second can pass of our shared eye contact, he whips around and storms off deeper into the party, leaving a confused Ned in his wake.

My heart falls as I watch the place where he stood. Michelle, who saw the whole ordeal, subtly nods her head to where Peter went off to before giving me an encouraging smile. Yes. A smile. A whole, teeth showing, lips curling smile. Determination flows through my veins at that  and that’s when I nod back to her. Excusing myself, missing the look of disappointment wash over Flash, I’m taking off to follow Peter, going deeper into the party than I ever thought I would.

I shove against sweaty bodies, internally crippling from the inside when I’m pushed against someone and they take it as an invitation to dance with me in their drunken state. A wasted girl from my English class compliments the blue shirt I’m wearing, but it’s not even blue. My feet are being trampled with each beat of the song as people jump up and down like maniacs. By the time I’m through the bustling crowd of my rowdy classmates, I’m met with a sitting area.

There were two couches, a large group of people lounging amongst them. Some were casually sipping at whatever was in their solo cups as others seemed to have already had too much alcohol. To my surprise, Peter was wedged between Ned and Liz Allan, and my heart did another thing where it flipped a million times and then plunged into a pool of despair. Why did seeing him with her hurt more than it should?

Before I could even get his name out, his head shoots up. Our eyes don’t lock this time as he mutters a quick excuse to the people around him and he’s running away from me once again. My eyes feel glassy and I try to contain myself but this was a whole other level of rejection.

“Hey, let’s go somewhere quieter.” Looking up, I see Ned, his mouth turned into a pitiful smile as I allow him to lead me towards an unknown hallway. He opens a door and then, he plops himself down on the cold tiled floor of the bathroom. He pats the space beside him as I slowly slide down the wall with a sigh. “He’s an idiot,” Ned says.

“I know.”

“You know he never wanted to hurt you.”

“I know.”

“He doesn’t hate you.”

Ned’s head slowly turns at my lack of a response. He may have been expecting me to constantly repeat those two words with each of his statements, but he doesn’t truly understand how I can’t believe his words when Peter doesn’t act upon them. He screamed at me in his bedroom. He talked about me in the library. He’s avoiding me at this stupid party. It was enough for me to prop my head against the wall behind me and sigh so deeply, it rattled the pain in chest.

“Why does he keep running away from me?” I ask almost inaudibly. A part of me didn’t want to know the answer. I wasn’t sure if I could take more of the anguish swirling within me like a hurricane waiting to destroy.

“Because he’s scared,” he states simply.

“Of what?”

“Of you. I don’t think he can stand to see you hurt by him again.”

My hands restlessly fold in my lap, thumbs spinning around one another as I try to steady my breathing. Thinking of him always made my heart race, but now it beats with a different kind of longing. “I miss him,” I whisper.

“Do you miss him enough?” he inquires. Furrowing my brows, I look at Ned oddly. “Do you miss him enough to stay in this bathroom with me or enough to fight for him?”

I lunge towards Ned, a genuine smile on my face as I hug the life out of him. I forgot how much I love him, and would never want to spend another week without him or his idiot jokes. His own warm arms wrap around me as I sigh into his shoulder. “I really like your hat,” I mumble into his shirt, feeling his body shake with laughter.

“I wore it just for you,” he says.

With a grateful thank you and one last squeeze, I get up from the floor and leave the bathroom. The first place I go to look is the couch area, where Liz Allan remained, but no sign of Peter. I take off through the bustling crowd of teenagers, pushing against them like they’re a part of an obstacle course. As I’m going deeper into the party, I can’t help but feel this massive surge of adrenaline.

I love Peter Parker. I’ve known this since I was eleven years old when we watched the city life from his fire escape. I remember his laugh and how it made my heart dance around, even if I could barely hear it over the car horns and shouting citizens.

I love Peter Parker. I’ve felt it deep within me when we were lying in my bed, staring up at the ceiling of glow in the dark star stickers because the city lights always masked the real ones. I remember the way his hand brushed against mine as we mumbled sleepily to one another about future plans. At first, I could feel my cheeks redden at the touch, but they were set ablaze when his fingers suddenly weave through mine.

I love Peter Parker. Even when he was yelling at me. Even when we were standing less than five feet apart and it felt like a whole ocean, I’ve never loved him more.

The more I run through this house, the more love I have for him. He needs to know that I’m willing to fight for us. As my chest heaves up and down from climbing the massive staircase to the second floor, I suddenly spot Ned’s hat amongst the crowd. Beside him, was no other than Peter.

And as if he felt my stare, just like he always has, his head turns to me. Our eyes meet and for the first time in a week, my heart explodes with pure, genuine joy. But, as he slowly drops his eyes, hand coming up to rub at the tip of his nose, his body is spinning around as he pushes past people.

Before my heart could feel the full effect of his absence, I begin to sprint down the steps, praying to whomever that I won’t tumble down. I’m shoving against the crowd once more, practically dodging the couches as I pass through them. The dance floor was a war zone as I attempt to squeeze past.

Amongst the sea of teenagers, I suddenly can’t breathe. The way their bodies press against mine as I fight my way through causes my breath to hitch in my throat, clogging any possible airway. I think of fighting for Peter, but the adrenaline is gone.

What’s the point? I can’t keep chasing someone who won’t stop running.

Blinking back the tears, I finally emerge from the dance floor, seeing Peter walk through the front door. Despite the constant agony tearing me apart, I fight through it. One chance. I just need one chance to make things right, and afterwards, this feeling will subside. The love I have for him will fade. Time will go on. Things will get better.

But now is not the time. I sprint through the front door, it slamming behind me as I take in the sight of Peter walking down the front lawn. And just like that, the little sanity I have left disappears.

“Stop avoiding me!” I finally find it in myself to scream, voice cracking from the pain brewing within me. His back turns rigid, his muscles tensing and his body stopping in Flash’s front lawn. With the door closed behind me, the bass of the music barely moves us. The smell of alcohol is no longer pungent and time stands still. I could already feel my eyes sting from the tears I’m already holding back. Peter’s back continues to face me. He may only be a couple of feet away, but it feels as if there’s an ocean lying between us when I whisper, “Please stop.”

I squeeze my eyes shut, letting the first of my tears fall. I instantly wipe them away as he keeps ignoring me. My hands shake, but balling them into fists only causes my nails to dig into my palms. I chew on my bottom lip, feeling my chest shake with each passing breath. The pain suddenly hits me like a bus, the adrenaline gone. Sadness sweeps over me as we stand idle, waiting for something unknown.

Is this really how this is going to end? What happened to being at each other’s weddings? What happened to all the idiotic plans we had for when we were 18? What happened to forcing our kids to be best friends so our legacy would live on?

What happened to us?

I press my lips together, heart aching. The tears well up in my eyes and I continue to squeeze them shut to get rid of them. I had to stay strong. I had to push through. “Please,” I plead, not missing the wavering in my voice as I spoke. “Just…just turn around.”

He didn’t. I could clearly see his body breathe heavily, probably from the annoyance and hatred he felt for me because I couldn’t let him go. I couldn’t leave the broken remnants of our friendship as easily as he did because he had time. Peter had time to detach himself from the picture perfect friendship I thought we had. Me? I was thrown into the cold water, drowning beneath it all as he stands on land with a lifejacket.

“Peter, I can’t help how I feel,” I say, even if talking to his back was like talking to a brick wall. “I didn’t want to fall in love with you.”

“So, why did you?” he finally speaks, yet his voice is small, barely audible above the muffled chatter from inside the house. My breath hitches in my throat just like it always does when I hear him talk. I suppress another cry, almost choking on it when he suddenly turns around with his big brown eyes filled with tears of pure sorrow. His cheeks were as puffy as mine. Peter’s bottom lip quivers the same way mine does because I couldn’t keep the despair in anymore. “Why did you have to make saying goodbye harder than it needed to be?” he questions harshly, his voice full of misery.

“I told you, I didn’t mean to fall in love, but I did. And I know you didn’t mean to hurt me, but you did. So, can you just please, give us another chance?”

“I already told you how I feel!” he shouts, but it doesn’t pierce through me like it did the first time he raised his voice in the small space of his bedroom. It didn’t add salt to the wound when he said it again in the library.  Instead, it just fires up this undeniable, searing rage within me. I’m so fucking sick and tired of constantly feeling helpless. I’m over being the only one hurting. Whatever it was that Peter wanted to do was fine by me, but I’ll be damned if I let him walk away without trying one last time.

I can’t help but stalk towards him, anger fueling my actions. “So, tell me again!” I yell back. Different emotions swirl within me, my heart not knowing which is to act upon anymore. The determination, hurt, and anger concots into one feeling as I breath heavily.

His face falls for a moment, expecting me to crumble before his eyes once more. Not this time. This time, I’ll stand my ground. I’ll fight for this. I’ll fight for us, even if we’re only friends because not having him as a boyfriend is nothing compared to not having him at all. “Tell me, Peter. I want you to tell me the truth, even if it hurts me. Look me in the eyes,” I say, my voice matching one of a raging storm. Our eyes meet and a shooting pain tears me apart from the inside. “Look at me, and tell me you hate me.”

“I…” he begins. My stomach twists, but our eyes never leave each other’s. “I h-hate…” he says again, his voice strained with anguish. He blinks before mumbling out a jumbled mess of words. I shake my head, a small feeling of hope creeping up on me. “I hate y-you,” he chokes out. “I hate you,” Peter repeats.

“You don’t.”

Peter sniffs before breaking eye contact to look at his feet. He wipes at his face with the back of his hand. His posture looks so beaten down, so different from the tense stature he tried so hard to maintain when his back was to me. Even if his eyes were hidden from a curtain of his wavy curls as he longingly stares at the floor, I could still see his bottom lip shake and the tears stream down. Peter lets out a broken cry, as if he didn’t want it to come out in the first place. Amidst his sorrow, he hiccups the one thing my heart had been yearning to hear. “I don’t,” he confirms. “I don’t hate you.”

“Look,” I say. The fury that had pumped through my bloodstream slowly diminished at the sight of Peter’s weak state, but it still lingers. When we were younger, Peter would always be the strong one, holding my hands and calming me down with his soothing words. The tables have turned. I grab his hands delicately, worried that he’d pull away at any moment. To my surprise, he allows it to happen and even looks up at me with the saddest eyes I’ve ever seen. “It’s okay if you don’t want to be friends anymore, but you don’t have to lie to me. I’ll let you go if that’s what you want, if that’s what you need.”

Peter nods solemnly.

“I just have one question though, and you don’t even have to answer it if you don’t want to,” I say, voice strained. “Did you ever love me? At any point in time?”

Looking up from our intertwined hands, I see Peter with a sad smile on his face. Another tear falls from his miserable eyes as he whispers, “I always have.”

Furrowing my eyebrows, I suddenly realize something. Those words sound so familiar, but I was too caught up with what Peter had just said to me. “Why would you...What? Then, why’d you leave?” I question, pure sadness laced into my words.

“Because…” he trails off. His thumbs begin to run over the back of my hand, a thing he always does whenever I feel like I’m falling apart. A thing he always does even when he’s falling apart too. “Because….I loved you too much.”

And that’s when it hit me.

And that’s when I hit Peter in the shoulder as hard as I possibly could.

“You idiot!” I scream, Peter’s eyes widening. His hands go up to deflect my next hit that would never come because I threw my arms into the air out of frustration. “You’re Spiderman?!” I squeak.

Peter instantly lunges forward, his hand covering my mouth. I smack him off. “Get your little webby fingers off me,” I seethe. Before he could defend himself, my shoulders suddenly slump forward and I realize the truth. “You...you didn’t want me to be in your life to protect me, didn’t you?” I question, voice small. He nods and I groan, rubbing my face with my hands. “You’re so stupid. So, so, so, so stupid.”

“For wanting to keep you safe?”

“For using the same words Spiderman said to me on the rooftop. Oh my God, I confided in him. I confided in you!”

“But you’ve always talked to me about your problems,” Peter defends.

I throw my hands up in the air. “But never about you to you!”

All of a sudden, in the messy blur of my stressed home gestures and rambling comments, Peter suddenly grabs me by the arms and tugs me into him. I could feel his breath fan against his face. His nose grazes mine. Peter’s eyes fondly gaze into my own and I can’t help but melt into his touch.

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly, barely audible above the pounding music behind us. His words were smooth and sincere, face contorting into a painful expression of guilt. “I thought that keeping you out of my life would keep you from getting hurt, but you did anyways. By me. And I never want to see you so broken again.”

“You could have told me. I would have understood.”

“I didn’t want you to understand; I wanted you to find someone who deserves your love and attention.”

I furrow my brows, still wondering how I’m able to function when one small movement of my neck would cause Peter and I to kiss. “You don’t think you’re good enough to be with me?”

He shakes his head, and that’s when I realize that none of my words will ever convince him of how much I love him. Maybe that’s why the night in the his room didn’t work. It was because he didn’t believe the entire truth to my words. Smiling to myself,  I quickly lean forward, closing the small distance between us without another second to spare.

I could have lived through so many lifetimes, met so many different people, but none will ever compare to the feeling of my heart bursting with pure ecstacy in my chest. He tugs me closer and I revel in the feeling of his lips pressing against mine in the same passion. I’m the first to pull away, taking notice of the way his eyes were still shut and the way he kept leaning in as if he couldn’t get enough. My amused laugh is what finally got him to flutter his eyes open, his lips turning into an excited smile right after.

“I love you,” he whispers to me. Something about those three words and the way he said it, as if they were only meant to be heard by me, made my heart dance and my smile shine with absolute wonder.

In an excited fit, I lean in once more to bask in the happiness that has washed over us in a warm light. I kiss him. Then, I kiss him again. And again. And again because with Peter Parker, actions speak louder than words.

--

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[justsomewritingsandshit]

New Anniversaries

 Daniel Francisco Sousa II (OC) x Reader, former Steve Rogers x Reader, mentions of Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes 

Length: 3483 words (yeah, I got carried away)

Warnings: none really, allusions to previous part, and some swears, reader moving on, pretty much made up Peggy Carters family - quick rundown. Peggy married Daniel Sousa, they then had a son, who had a son himself

Requested by @iamwarrenspeace

Masterlist for this series | Part 2 to Missed Anniversary

“Love?”

“…Yeah?”

“You awake?”

Both the bed springs, and yourself, groaned as you flopped onto your back. “Apparently.” You looked pointedly at your boyfriend in accusation. “What time is it?”

Daniel, the love of your life and; the sweetest man on the planet, looked a little guilty. This was a big indication of what the time was. Your eyebrows raised, seeming to further his awkward look. “… It’s seven, love.”

You closed your eyes, “Then, I’ll see you in two hours.”

“No!” Daniel pouted, scooting closer to your body, “Please, I made you a breakfast!” Your eyes shot open in horror. While Danny was a wonderful person, who was as smart as a whip, and as gorgeous as an Adonis, he cannot cook. He once set fire to a pot of water he was boiling, literally. You still don’t know how. Obviously seeing your frantic look, he back-tracked, “Okay, I ran down the road to get us French toast… But, I made the coffee, though!” His proud expression, which somewhat reminded you of a small child’s excitement, made your chest warm. Daniel made you happy, you loved him so much.

You let out a sigh of relief at his confession. The man couldn’t cook to save his life, but the Brit could make a mean cup of joe. “Darling,” You cooed, using one of his own terms of endearment against him, “I love you, and I love that you’ve done this,” Your hand gestured to the tray of food he’d been holding the entire length of the conversation, “But I am so tired. Please let me sleep.”

You could see Dan considering, his face softening slightly as he saw your under-eye bags, “Love,” He sighed gently, “Please eat breakfast with me.” His voice was too sweet, far too sweet for you to say no to.

In fairness to him, Daniel had just returned from the south of England the night before, after he’d visited his father. You’d definitely missed him, just as much as he’d missed you. He’d been absent from your life for three weeks, celebrating his father’s birthday with him, as well as to taking his annual leave from work. Dan worked hard, constantly trying to stay ahead of himself. It’s news to no person in the workforce, in any industry, that paperwork piled up after a while, if left unattended for even a moment.

Originally, you’d planned to accompany him, but you’d been forced to cancel those plans, to take over the position for a woman you worked with, after she’d gone into early labour, thus swiftly forced on maternity leave.

“Okay, fine!” You reluctantly sat up to eat, exposing your warm skin to the cool morning air, as your blanket shifted around you. “But I want you to know, that I’m only doing this,” You were referring to being awake before nine, “Because I love you!” Snatching a piece of French toast, which had been drizzled in syrup, you took a large (probably unattractive) bite, before letting out a borderline sexual moan, “This tastes so good, babe.”

Daniel smiled happily at you, “I asked Mel,” The woman who usually did the morning shift at the diner down the street, “To put extra syrup on it for you.” Your man knew you had a sweet tooth. You continued to messily munch on the food, not caring about the consequences, such as the mess you were making. “Hey.” Dan caught your attention, before he gently cupped your chin with his large hand, turning your head towards him. He leaned in close, softly kissing just below your bottom lip, before he pulled away, licking his smiling lips. “You had some syrup on you,” He explained casually, but you saw the underlining cheekiness in his grin.

You’d gotten extremely lucky with him. The man could still make you blush, after two years together. Thinking back, now, you wondered how you could have possibly believed you loved Steve. You never felt such a raw, powerful connection him, unlike with your Daniel. Did you ever truly love Steve? You weren’t sure. All you knew, was the day you met Detective Sousa, was one of the best days of your life.

You met Detective Daniel Sousa at your workplace, approximately six months after you left Steve.

 The museum had become your second home after your breakup, as it was the perfect place for a history nerd such as yourself to hang around. You enjoyed your job, creating exhibits, and giving tours – especially to the elementary schools who visited on their school trips. After all, children were the most unintentionally funny people on the planet. The only downside to the job, was having to frequent the Captain America exhibit, and being forced to look into the eyes of the man who’d betrayed you, as well as the eyes of the man who’d been partner to that betrayal. Although, after a few months, when you walked past the exhibit, the sting of heartbreak faded, leaving only memories. You guess it helped to remember them as heroes they were, rather than your own personal villains.

 There had been a break-in at work, so the local precinct had sent some of their officers to the crime scene, and thus; you were introduced to Detective Sousa. He’d been there to investigate the crime, but had stuck around, long after the case had been concluded.

 It began casually. After his shifts had ended, he would often escort you to the subway stop nearest to you work, claiming that he had to protect you from the evils of the world. Daniel wasn’t capable of being a subtle flirt, not at all.

 His ‘protection’ shtick, had originally left you weary (for obvious reasons), but you eventually conceded to grabbing coffee with him when he asked you (the second time), nearly eight months after you became single. The two of you had stopped at a local Starbucks on the way to catch the train that night, all the while arguing if it truly counted as a ‘date’. You both guzzled an entire cup of coffee, before realising you’d missed your train (too concerned by your conversation to notice the time), and the next train would take ages to arrive. Daniel offered you a ride, which you had accepted almost instantly – you weren’t subtle, either.

 That was the first time you’d kissed him. Your body had pressed against the stick-shift of the car, his tanned hands cupping your cheeks, the both of you enjoying the moment you were sharing. When you’d pulled back, you both were breathing heavy, knowing that there was an undeniable connection between you two.

 “It’s still not a date.” You had winked at him teasingly, not-so-subtly letting him know that you weren’t entirely sure your words could be classed as true.

 After that first kiss, your friendship and relationship with Daniel only flourished. Before you’d know, Daniel was asking you to officially be his girlfriend, letting you know that he only wanted to kiss, and love, you. Honestly, he barely got out he words before you’d agreed. Ironically enough, that day, your and Daniel’s anniversary, was the day you had left Steve. It was as if the stars had aligned in your life.

Your fathers loved him.

 Who wouldn’t, though?

 Daniel was classically handsome, and had a natural charm to him – he reminded everyone of an old-Hollywood movie star. He had the tanned skin and the perfectly tousled dark hair, as well as the jaw, nose and lips that you were sure had to be carved by angels. Not only that, but he was funny. He had a dry wit, the product of his British background he said, that kept you laughing. Also, he enjoyed all the nerdy things you did – you often spent hours conversing about the Lord of the Rings, and Harry Potter, dissecting every aspect together.

 You fell for him so easily.

The world stood still the day you’d discovered his secret.

 Six months into ‘officially dating’, Daniel had sat you down to talk. When he opened his mouth, you’d been ready for the worst – he’d found someone else, he was secretly married, he already had children and another family, etc.

 What you hadn’t expected, however, was that he was the grandson of Peggy Carter. You knew who she was. How could you not? Agent Peggy Carter. You knew her from the textbooks you’d studied at school, from the exhibits you ran at the museum, but mostly; you’d known Peggy Carter from the man you had loved.

 When you’d first started with Steve, all those years ago, you’d known that he missed her. After all, she was the first woman he ever loved.  You had helped the captain move on, as at that time Peggy was in her last years of her long, fulfilled life, and Steve had been in his late twenties. For the entirety of your relationship with Steve, you’d compared yourself to that strong English woman, admittedly scared of her ghost.

 It turns out, she was the wrong spectre to watch out for.

 Daniel knew of Steve. You’d told him everything – every memory, emotion, and thought. You’d kept no secret from your sweet detective, which is why this admission wounded you. “Why didn’t you…” You remember that you’d trailed off, struggling not to cry, scared that Steve’s past was going to ruin another relationship for you.

 The man you’d fallen for, took your hand into his own, “It wasn’t to hurt you, not at all. I love you.” This was the first time either of you had said it aloud, “I didn’t want his past to hurt you. I’m not going to let that happen. What we have, is too good to let be ruined by some family history.”

 His words had moved you, “T-that’s fair enough.” Your attempt to be casual was failed by your stutter, which was to distract from your tears. “M-my f-family used to be c-conservative, and t-that’s s-scary t-too.” Your joke hadn’t been that funny, but it still made you two laugh.

“So, now that I’ve consumed this breakfast food, can I rest?” You’d worked a particularly long shift the day before, which had consisted of school trip after school trip. Then, you had stayed up late, in order to witness Daniel’s return from the British Isles.

Daniel shifted the tray of empty plates and cups, to one of the bedside tables, before scooting up to you. “Okay.” The two of you had curled around each other, both tired but entirely content. “Before you fall asleep, love, I want to ask you something.”

“Mhmm?”

“Will you marry me?”

You shot up, absolutely startled, and managed to elbow his chin in the process. Not that you noticed. Had you just hallucinated? “W-what?” You loved Daniel, but were you ready to commit to him in this permanent way? Your heart filled with happiness, knowing that you loved him unconditionally. “Marriage?”

Daniel nodded, smiling happily over at you. “I want to marry you, Y/N.” He watched your face, taking note of the shock and slight apprehension on it, “I love you, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you, sometimes eating waffles in bed.” As you let out an awkward chuckle, he reached over to the tray he’d just placed on the bedside table. Then he lifted a small, white ceramic sauce bowl up, revealing a gorgeous ring inside. “It was my mother’s.” Dan explained, as he brought the ring closer to your face, “When I told my father that I was going to ask you, he insisted that I give it to you. He said it was a family heirloom.” From what you knew of his family, they were big on tradition – this must be another one.

“Danny, I-”

“You don’t have to say yes, if you’re not ready yet, love.” He reminded you, once again letting you know why you fell for him, and furthering the warmth in your heart. “We can pretend this didn’t happen, if you want.”

“No.” Daniel froze in shock, he genuinely wasn’t expecting such a blunt rejection from you. “No! I mean yes, I want to marry you! The ‘no’ was to your idea of pretending the proposal didn’t happen.”

“So… yes?”

“Yes.”

“Yes?”

“Yes!”

The engagement party was at your shared apartment, as your work at the museum, and Daniel’s at the police station, didn’t really earn either of you mega bucks –  this meant hiring out a venue was not possible. It didn’t matter, though. The two of you cooked and baked all day (well, you did). Daniel, instead, stuck to occasionally handing you a spoon, or the flour. His father, who’d flown in for the event, had brought champagne on his way from his hotel. Your fiancé had spent a fair few hours organising the apartment, moving furniture, and setting up what he said was a ‘sick’ Spotify playlist for the evening.

It was going well, too. Your dads’ had flown in from Wyoming, as well as several of your other family members, and they were now mingling amongst Dan’s family, both of your friends, and co-workers. The evening was going so well, and everything went to Daniel’s schedule. You didn’t expect anything less than perfect, as Daniel strived to make this the best party you two could afford.

Of all things that you didn’t expect to happen, however, Tony Stark showing up to your engagement party was pretty high on that list. You didn’t remember inviting him, as he was barely known to you. Sure, you’d been in his building a few times, when you’d dated Steve, but that was literally years ago. But there he was, sipping on a flute of champagne, chuckling along to the story Daniel’s father was telling.

“Hello.” Dan slid his arms around you, pulling your body into his. He seemed to be either un-aware of Tony Stark’s odd presence, or completely nonchalant to his placement in the room. “What’s got you so pouty?” You’d been standing in your small apartment kitchen, having run to grab some more food for a few plates that were running low in the living room. It was then that you spotted Stark, and had paused to stare in confusion, just out of sight. “Are you pouting, because your dad told the story of how you walked in on him and your step-dad?”

“What?” You spun around quickly, “No! He told that story?” You shoved your face into Daniel’s shoulder, “No!” After your mother’s death, your father (to your knowledge) hadn’t even looked another persons’ way. At least, that’s what you thought, until you came home early from a sleep-over one day, only to be visually scarred by the image of your father having sex on the couch. The fact it was with a man was irrelevant, it was the fact it was your dad – you didn’t sleep that night, and you were too scared to have sex until well into your twenties.

Daniel chuckled, and kissed the crown of your head. “Yeah, it made my dad and Uncle Tony crack up.”

You froze, up until this moment, you’d thought that Dan only had aunts’, and cousins’. “Uncle Tony?” Your voice was chilling.

“Yeah,” Daniel paused, his face morphing into his embarrassed, slash guilty, face. “I forgot to tell you that he’d my godfather, didn’t I?” When you glared at him, he tried to defend himself, “It’s not something I can casually tell people!”

“Daniel Francisco Sousa, the second, we’ve been dating for over two years!” So, he’d been keeping secrets from you again, “Is there literally anything else, about you, that I should know? Tell me, is the Queen of England, also a relative?” The sarcasm was you trying to show that you weren’t being too serious, but you were pissed.

“No,” He sighed, kissing your cheek in affection, nuzzling it, trying to get back into your good books, “Love, that’s the last surprise about me, I swear!” Picking up the plates you’d abandoned, Daniel walked over to the door to the kitchen, “Now come on, I’ll introduce you!”

Three months later, you found your way back into the Avengers tower. You walked into the same elevator, spoke to the same JARVIS, but this time you requested that you be taken to Mr Stark’s office, rather than Steve’s floor. The elevator arrived, and the doors then opened, leading you into the large room.

“Y/N!” Tony Stark greeted you. His arms were thrown wide, drawing you into a hug the second you’d stepped off the elevator. “What are you doing here?” He wondered, although judging by the look on his face, you were sure he already knew.

“I’m here to talk about this,” You held up the cheque that had shown up in your mailbox, the large sticker on the front telling you it came from the desk of the Avenger in front of you. “This is too generous, Tony.”

The man rolled his eyes, “Nonsense! You and my godson aren’t gonna be able to pay for that wedding alone!” He waved his hand dismissively, wandering over to his desk, “Look, I don’t have a kid, the closest I got is Daniel. I’ve always helped his parents out, for all his stuff – school, camps. When I was told he was getting married, I wrote the cheque before I even knew it was you he was marrying. I was going to give this money to him, anyway.” Tony slumped into his chair. “I was surprised it was you, though.” He continued quietly, whilst you stood silently in front of the elevator, not sure what to do, or what to say. “I’m glad the both of you found each other, you suit each other well, and I’m glad you didn’t hold who he is over his head.”

Your shook your head, “I would never!”

The billionaire nodded, “I know. I’m happy for you both.” Tony smiled at you, “Now, I have a meeting, so you should head off.” It was a clear dismissal, “Also, I’m not taking the money back!”

You shook your head, but you still managed to smile slightly, “Goodbye.”

“By the way, was that Y/N I saw earlier?” Pepper Potts, right hand woman of Tony Stark, questioned later that night. Those who were at the Avengers tower that night, sat around the large dining table, consuming a nice Chinese takeaway that Natasha Romanoff had suggested. Across the table from Tony, was Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes, the two men responsible for so much of Y/N’s emotional damage. “What were they doing here?”

“Y/N’s the one marrying Daniel.” Steve’s head shot up, noodles hanging out his mouth as he stared at Tony in shock. Y/N was getting married? “Yeah, I met her officially at the engagement party, that you missed,” Tony gave a mocking scolding look to Pepper, “They’re perfect for each other.”

“Why was she here, though?” Pepper once again asked, before noticing Tony’s sheepish look, “What did you do, now?”

“Nothing!” He received her narrowed eyes in response, “Okay, I gave them some money for the wedding! Y/N didn’t want to accept it, but I insisted! They’re family, now, after all!”

“Family?” Bucky asked, pretty much choking out the word. After all, his stint as the Winter Soldier meant that a lot of Stark’s family had been taken out.

Tony glared at him, he was well aware of what had happened, and for that reason he did not trust Barnes. That, and the whole affair thing, too. “Daniel’s my godchild.”

“Daniel?”

“Yes, Daniel Francisco Sousa, the second.” Tony threw a glare towards Barnes, before being struck by a thought. He turned his attention to Steve, who was very interested in his food. “Daniel’s father and I pretty much grew up together, you know. His parents and Jarvis were all I had after my parents died.” Tony paused, to look at Bucky, before continuing, “You might know one of them, Peggy Carter-Sousa?” Steve’s neck nearly snapped with the force of him turning to look at Tony, his eyes wide. “Mhmm, I guess that means that technically, Y/N is going to be a part of the Carter family…”

Steve stood up suddenly, his chair flying backwards. He stormed out of the room, leaving a sad-looking Bucky, a shocked Pepper, and a smug Tony, behind. On the way up to his room, the same one where he broke Y/N’s heart nearly three years ago, he thought to himself about what he’d just discovered.

Y/N was getting married… to someone who was related to Peggy… his best girl.

His bright blue eyes began to water, and he felt a heat begin to spread. He was feeling waves of jealousy, and guilt descend.

Y/N had managed to get a piece of Peggy. Y/N had Peggy’s grandson. Y/N didn’t need him. Maybe, Y/N never needed Steve. And now, Y/N had everything he’d ever wanted…

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