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justreadertings · 1 year

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Hi, hello, is this Sweet Understanding? No. It is not. My deepest apologizes. However, I was inspired and wrote a baby oneshot that may turn into a couple of oneshots in this AU. Anyway, I super adore this one and only have one more scene to finish for SU so I hope that will be out soon! All my love- Magee

TW: implied miscarriage, mentions of cheating, talks of pregnancy and labor complications

WC: 2324

Eire

Aelin’s whole body ached, and yet, she’d never been happier. She’d been a mother for a whole three days now, and it was the greatest thing the gods could have given her. Her sweet Eire lay sleeping against her chest, breathing softly. Aelin made sure to settle into the pillows as best as she could without disturbing her daughter. She could watch her child sleep for hours and never bore it. Only the soft rapping at her open bedroom door took her out of it.

“Fireheart, do you need anything?”

Aelin’s heart glowed more than it ever had. Her boyfriend’s face was nearly as exhausted as she was, but he never missed a beat. He was so good to her, to their Eire.

“I’m ok,” she said. Rowan’s green eyes swept over her, as they had constantly since she’d gone into labor. “I’m ok, you buzzard, now stop worrying so much. It’s bad for the baby,” she quipped.

“Is it?” He lifted a brow.

“Ummhmm,” she hummed.

Rowan came around to her side of the bed, and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I’ll make sure to keep it in mind.”

Aelin patted the bed beside her. “Come here, come lay with me.”

Rowan obliged, instantly. She nestled into him, and a wave of contentment wafted over her. She hadn’t exactly had the easiest labor- hadn’t exactly had an easy pregnancy for that matter. Her entire body felt sore and tense. She was unfamiliar with it, if she had to admit, and the only time she felt truly at home in it was in the familiarity of her boyfriend’s arms.

“You’re so beautiful,” Rowan whispered against her forehead. “Eire gets it from you.”

Aelin smiled softly. She’d never really had a family before this, and the comfort of it had her more at peace than she’d ever been. Aelin’s eyes began to close, her breathing turning soft.

But their peace only lasted a few minutes, as a knock on the door jolted her awake. Both she and Rowan were quick to make sure their newborn wasn’t disturbed.

“What time is it?” she asked, dread filling her.

Rowan looked at the clock, and let out a sigh. Aelin knew what that meant. “It’s noon.”

Her head fell backwards. “Wyrd save me,” she whispered.

Rowan pressed a kiss to both her head and then their daughter’s before getting up to get the door. Aelin pressed a million kisses to the top of Eire’s unfairly soft head, and breathed her in.

Just a few moments later, brown hair and eyes were standing in her bedroom doorway.

“There’s my munchkin,” Sam said.

Aelin forced a painful smile. She knew this would be hard… but she’d never expected it to be this hard. The whole situation was complicated.

Rowan came into her life when they were teenagers, and they’d fallen in love instantly. They had this… soul connection. But circumstances with Aelin’s foster care never really worked in her favor, and after three years of dating she was shipped away the summer before her senior year. Rowan had promised that when they graduated, he’d go to wherever she was and they would be together.

But then he’d gotten an internship all the way in Dornelle, and Aelin could not give up the opportunity to go to college. The money she’d saved up and the constant moving meant she could only afford to go to in-state schooling. But now, seven years later, they were living together with their baby.

Well… Aelin, Rowan and Sam’s baby. Aelin had met Sam in her third year of college, and they had dated, gotten engaged, and then promptly broke up two months before Aelin found out she was pregnant. Which was right around the time Rowan Whitethorn walked into her favorite coffee shop and back into her life forever.

And he wasn’t going away this time. Aelin planned to keep him forever. She liked to say he was “baby trapped”, but he didn’t think that was too funny. Aelin knew their story was strange, that most men wouldn’t fall in love with a woman who was carrying someone else’s child. But she was Rowan’s and Rowan was her’s. Rowan told her Eire was her, and anything that was her was something he loved.

Rowan had already lost one child. He’d told Aelin that she and Eire were his second chance at happiness. That they were the family he always feared he’d never get.

But that family also, sadly, included Sam.

Sam had come to the hospital the day she was born, and had made plans to see her today. When Aelin asked when, Sam had just said he’d “stop by.” At two this morning, when Aelin was up feeding Eire, she’d received a text that Sam would “stop by” around noon. Rowan was doing a very good job of not strangling him.

Sam came over and looked down at Eire.

Aelin smiled. “Gods, isn’t she beautiful?” To his credit, Sam did agree. “You want to hold her?”

Sam nodded, and Aelin pressed another hundred kisses to her baby before passing her to Sam. When she was sure he had her, Aelin looked over to Rowan for assistance. He was by her side in an instant, and took her by the elbow to help her stand. Pain laced down her sides, down her back. All of her insides were mush, and sweat beaded on her brow.

She was finally standing, albeit leaning into Rowan slightly.

“Gods,” Sam said behind her. “You look awful.”

Both she and Rowan turned to look at the man. Aelin’s fingers dug into Rowan’s forearm. “Push a baby out of your vagina and we’ll talk.”

Rowan snorted.

“Can you help me?” she gestured to their bathroom. Aelin had actually moved her side of the bed- even though she hated it- to be closer to their on-suite. Rowan slid his arm around her, and pain again sliced through her. Her doctor said she’d have to accept that her own healing would take time. Her pregnancy had had its fair share of complications, and she’d had several surgeries in the aftermath, all while dealing with the intense fear that her child was not ok. Eire had gotten stuck on her pelvic bone during labor, and Aelin was sure that her life was flashing before her eyes when her doctor began pushing and prying to get her out.

But they were here, they were ok, they were healthy and above all else- alive. But Aelin really, really, really didn’t need to be mocked about it.

“You don’t want me to help?” Sam asked.

Aelin just kept on her way to the bathroom. Sam hadn’t exactly been thrilled about Rowan being in Aelin’s life. He’d been difficult through the whole thing, complaining that Rowan was at every event with her, that he was there for the birth, even though Aelin had invited Sam and he hadn’t shown up. Sam arrived an hour later, and met Eire when Aelin was in surgery, so neither she, nor Rowan was there to give the ok.

But Eire was Sam’s too, and she just had to accept that. Sam, however, had to accept Eire was also Rowan’s.

Once Aelin had cursed at Rowan to let her pee in peace, she could hear the men sit in uncomfortable silence on the other side of the door. Despite them now being in each other’s lives for nearly a year, they hadn’t exactly warmed up to each other. Rowan was adamant that Sam hadn’t treated her right, and wasn’t a huge fan. He only played nice because he knew how difficult life could be for both her and Eire if they outwardly hated each other.

Sam had bitched about Rowan since the day they met, claiming that Rowan was just a “rebound”. He’d actually ruined her baby shower by giving a far too detailed toast about how, despite them being broken up, the baby had to have gotten there “somehow” in front of all of her closest friends. Rowan had nearly killed him until his best friends took care of the tipsy baby-daddy so he could be there for her.

Aelin’s emotions had been so up and down then, she’d cried for hours after the party before marching over to Sam’s apartment to cuss him out. Ever since then, they’d all been very stiff around each other. Nearly everything they spoke about was baby-related. Aelin thought that was for the best.

After she was done, her body was furious that she’d done anything out of the norm, and cramps began to invade her lower half. She called out for Rowan who was there in seconds.

“Is something wrong?”

She shook her head, hands braced on the counter. “It’s like last night,” she told him.

He ran a soothing hand down her back, and of course, Eire began to cry again. Aelin hung her head for a moment, before moving back to the bedroom. She sat on the end of her bed, and gestured for Sam to give her the baby.

“What’s wrong?” He asked.

Aelin’s finger lightly caressed Eire’s tiny cheek. “I don’t know, I just fed her.”

“Did you do it right?”

She looked up at him to see if he was joking. He wasn’t. “Yes, Sam. I fed her right.”

He leaned back to rest against the wall. “I just didn’t know. Big guy over here made me leave when that boob expert came in.”

“The lactation consultant?” Rowan asked, and Aelin could hear the frustration in his voice.

“Whatever.”

Eire still fussed, so Aelin rocked and cooed at her, and even smelled her, but she didn’t need to be changed. After a few minutes, Aelin looked at Rowan and offered up a smile.

Her boyfriend sighed. “It’s not going to work every time,” he told her, reaching for the baby.

Aelin pursed her lips. “You’ll see.”

Rowan rolled his eyes, but, just as Aelin implied, he began to hum to their daughter. He hummed and held her right to his chest, where she settled and promptly fell back asleep.

“Hate to say I told you so, but…” Aelin mused.

“Quiet,” he warned, playfully.

Sam was watching them with narrowed eyes. Aelin turned to him. “I hate that she’s so fussy right now. I really wanted you to get a chance to be with her.”

Despite how complicated everything was, she would never deny someone as important as Eire’s father the chance to love her. Aelin knew one day, everyone Eire ever met would love her, but that should start with the people who were to raise her.

“You don’t find it weird that you took her out of my hands to give to him?”

Aelin frowned. “I don’t find anything weird about one of her parents holding her, no.”

Sam huffed. “Maybe you’re just too hormonal to see how fucked up this is, but maybe in a few days you’ll come to your senses.”

“Excuse me?” Aelin asked. “If you’re implying that I’m not doing what’s best for my child you’ve got a whole lot coming.”

Sam shook his head. “I just think that maybe you’re trying to punish me.”

Aelin narrowed her brows, and Rowan watched with careful eyes while still rocking Eire. “Trying to punish you?”

“Yeah. You, doing all this, messing with everything… I already apologized for what happened with Lysandra-”

Aelin stood- which hurt like hell, but was necessary to get her point across. “What ‘happened with Lysandra’ was that you asked her to sleep with you, and when she said no, you called her crazy and messaged her boyfriend to flip the story. And when she told me, you gaslit me and tried to make me think I made it up.” Aelin could nearly see red. “And after a fifteen hour labor, three surgeries, and two days with no sleep, do you really think this is a fight you want to start with me? Because I survived all that, and let me tell you, Sam Courtland, I can survive you too.”

Sam shook his head at her. “You know what, I’ll just be absent from our daughter's life, just like you want.”

“What I want is a cherry soda, and about six bowls of Fruit Loops. What I need is for you to look at every single invitation I’ve sent to you about our daughter’s checkups, and how included I’ve made you in all this. What I need is for you to grow up and be a father. If not, there’s the door!”

With that, Aelin sat back down on the bed, and stuck out her arms so she could hold her baby. Rowan gently placed Eire back in her arms, and all of her pent up anger melted away. Rowan pressed his lips to her head, and she was very confident that she desperately needed that.

Sam left about two minutes later with an annoyed, “call you tomorrow.”

Aelin only waved a dramatic goodbye, promising that she’d have a real talk about arguing in front of their daughter on another day.

Rowan braced his hand around her waist as they sat on the edge of their bed. “I’m proud of you, Fireheart.”

All of her fight gave out to exhaustion, and she leaned against him. “Eire is three days old and I’ve already yelled in front of her.”

Rowan shook his head. “You weren’t yelling. And besides, I’m sure she’ll want to see how fierce her mama is.”

Aelin smiled against his shoulder. “Thank you. You’re so calm.” She glanced up at him. “I might need some of that.”

“All in due time, my love.”

Aelin leaned in and Rowan bent down to place a kiss on her lips. With the puppy snores of the baby in her arms, and the soft kiss from the love of her life, Aelin knew despite the chaos and the exhaustion- her life was looking pretty great.

Yeah, how am I NOT gonna write more of them? Anyway, I hope you enjoyed! mwah!!

Taglist:

@leiawritesstories

@tomtenadia

@fireheart-violet

@backtobl4ck

@morganofthewildfire

@rowaelinismyotp

@aelinchocolatelover

@thegreyj

@foughtconquered

@swankii-art-teacher

@booklover242

@stardelia

@numbers-colors-fashion

@bookcide

@viajandosinalas

@rowanaelinn

@elentiyawhitethorn

@emily-gsh

@athena127

@captain-of-the-gwynriel-ship

#Eire #rowaelin #throne of glass #tog #sjm #tog fanfiction #sjm fanfiction #rowaelin fanfiction #baby fic

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cmurphyslaw · 3 months

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Hello! List 5 things that make you happy, then put this in the askbox for the last 10 people who reblogged something from you! Get to know your mutuals and followers :D (no pressure of course)

OKAYOKAY OKAY SO (also sorry this took a million years ☠️☠️)

5 THINGS THAT MAKE ME HAPPY:

MY MOMMM 🩷

SUPERNATURAL (especially sam ahu ahu)

MUSIC ❗️❗️

MY BSF @wadeepilled

ANDDDDD VISUAL ART IN GENERAL ESPECIALLY DRAWING I LOVE DRAWING

AND UHHH UHHH IDK THE LAST 10 PPL WHO REBLOGGED SMTH FROM ME BUT MOOTS HERE GET UR FOOD ‼️

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kissthesun-gvf · 1 year

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A Valentine's Rose

INTRO: I could not tell you where this idea came from considering we have TWO MONTHS until Valentine's but ANYWAYS. Also I learned how to use the read more thing (I think?). I think Josh should come give me a little kiss on the nose for learning how to use Tumblr. I need to put the wine away. Goodnight.

Because Sam could only afford a long weekend away from touring, you both decided to spend Valentine’s day at home this year, ordering food in and having a few drinks in the comfort of your home (and Rosie by your side).

After dinner, you both retreated outside to share a joint and watch the sky, which had become one of your favorite late-night pastimes. Ever the gentleman, Sam offered to let you finish the last couple hits and made his way inside to clean up from dinner. You exhaled slowly and took in the quiet night. That is, until Sam threw the back door open and ran over to you. You looked up and immediately saw fear in his eyes. Shit. “Baby, what’s wrong??” You stood up and reached for him, waiting for him to get his words out. “I was stupid and I left chocolate out, and I think Rose got into it, and fuck, I don’t know what to do, and-” You cut him off by placing a hand on his cheek. “Okay. Let’s go figure this out then. She’ll be okay, Sammy.” He rushed you inside to of course find a happy as ever Rosie sitting on the couch, panting and smiling at you. “How much did she eat?” You asked Sam, who held up the half-empty heart-shaped chocolate box he had picked you up at the airport. “Well, Rose, you had a little treat there, didn’t you?” You kissed the top of her head and set a hand on her chest, feeling her little heart beating as strong as ever. “She seems okay, Sammy, but I’ll call the vet and see if they want us to come in.” Sam gulped, obviously very worried about his best friend. “While I do that,” you reached for your phone, “can you look around and see if we have any Isopropyl Alcohol?” He seemed confused, but nodded off towards the bathroom, glad to have something helpful to do.

The vet decided that the two of you could either attempt to make Rosie bring the chocolate back up at home, or you could drive her to the emergency vet outside of town and have them take care of things for you. Sam, of course, wanted to take her in to make sure she had the best care possible, and who were you to deny him. You loaded Rose into the back of the car and Sam sat in the back with her the whole way to the office, petting her lots and assuring her that she was going to be just fine. She, of course, seemed unphased by the entire evening. After explaining the procedure to the two of you, your vet explained that they usually take the pets into the back alone during it. Sam held Rose closer at hearing it. “Are you sure I can’t go back with her? Just to make her more comfortable?” He had asked, voice almost wavering. You rubbed his back to calm him down- you were fairly sure he was more scared right now than Rosie was. “It’s usually better for them to be alone, I promise. It’ll be over quickly and we’ll bring her right back to you,” the doctor had assured. Sam eventually agreed and gave Rose a million kisses before handing her leash over to the vet tech. He slumped in the chair next to you while you waited, and you could feel the worry he was feeling. Of course you were nervous too, but Sam’s relationship with his dog was much more intense. Right now you were here to support him and make sure he felt comforted and safe, just like Rosie usually did. “She’ll be just fine, sweetheart, she’ll be back with us soon and we’ll take her home,” you calmed, and Sam leaned over to rest his head in your lap. You ran your fingers through his hair for a while, and before you knew it the door was opening and Rose was trotting in to see you like nothing ever happened. “There’s my sweet girl!” Sam sat up quickly, kneeling on the floor to say hello. “How’d she do?” You asked the tech, who assured you that she was a star patient and should be just fine to go home as long as you kept her hydrated. Sam insisted on carrying her back to the car and sitting in the back with her where she quickly fell asleep. You glanced in the rearview mirror to see him watching her snooze. “Hey,” you whispered to him, “I love you.” He smiled back and whispered his return. “I love you too, darling. And I’m sorry we spent Valentine’s day at the vet, I know this wasn’t the most romantic evening.” “It wasn’t, but it’s okay, Sammy,” you laughed. “If you think about it, it really was a night full of love. First ours, but then I got a reminder of how deeply you care about Rose.” He glanced down at her and grinned, running his hand over her soft ears. “Admit it, Kiszka, she’s got you wrapped around your finger. If the vet told you she needed a stomach transplant, yours would have been first on the chopping block.” He laughed in agreement, careful not to startle the sleeping pup. “You’re right, I do really love her. And I love you too,” he glanced up, and you made eye contact through the mirror as you pulled into the driveway. With all other plans for the night at the back of both your minds, you both crawled into bed with Rose between you, deciding to let her sleep in luxury for the night to keep an eye on her. You cuddled in, and Sam reached across to kiss you both goodnight. “My girls,” he whispered to himself before falling asleep.

#sam kiszka #sam kiszka blurb #sam gvf #sam kiszka fluff

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mariacallous · 11 months

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Meduza's The Beet: ‘No normal person would oppose the Afghan War’

Hello, and welcome back to The Beet!

I’m Eilish Hart, the editor of this weekly newsletter covering Central and Eastern Europe, the Caucasus, and Central Asia. This week’s feature story is brought to you by Meduza special correspondent Kristina Safonova, whom you may recall as the reporter behind our poignant long read about the lives of Ukrainian refugees in Poland. This time around, Kristina takes a historical deep-dive into how the Soviet authorities stamped out domestic opposition to the Soviet-Afghan War. But first, Meduza’s very own Sam Breazeale has kindly agreed to share a page out of his notebook. Take it away, Sam!

Hi! Meduza in English senior news editor Sam Breazeale here. I spent part of last week at NATO’s Riga StratCom Dialogue, an annual conference focused on strategic communications (not to be confused with another “StratCom,” the U.S. Strategic Command).

Few capitals feel the urgency of the communication challenges facing NATO and E.U. members as acutely as Riga. As Prime Minister Krišjānis Kariņš was quick to remind attendees during his opening speech, Latvia, unlike many of its Western peers, “never imagined that Russia stopped being a threat” in the decades following the Soviet Union’s collapse. “For years, we were condescended to about [our] ‘special history,’” he said, referring to Moscow’s occupation of the Baltic countries after World War II. “It took until 2022 for the Western world to understand: Russia really is a threat.”

But as Russia expert Keir Giles told me on the sidelines of the event, there’s no guarantee that this belated recognition from Paris and Berlin, for example, will lead Western leaders to heed the warnings of the Baltic countries, going forward. On the contrary, he said, policy prescriptions from Russia’s European neighbors are often dismissed as “unhelpful and unconstructive” — even against the backdrop of Moscow’s all-out war on Ukraine. If Western Europe and the U.S. fail to internalize the “long-term and systemic nature” of the threat Russia poses to countries far beyond its borders, this is “not a good omen for the longer-term future of European security,” Giles warned.

In the short term, meanwhile, Ukraine and its allies are grappling with a different kind of security concern: the proliferation of false pro-Kremlin narratives. And they certainly have their work cut out for them on this front. Just hours before the StratCom Dialogue began, American media personality Tucker Carlson released a video in which he argued that the destruction of the Kakhovka dam “hurts Russia more” than Ukraine. (At this writing, the floodwaters have engulfed dozens of settlements in war-torn southern Ukraine and forced thousands of civilians to flee their homes; Ukrainian officials say the resulting environmental damage amounts to ecocide.)

As one panelist pointed out, Carlson’s clip garnered 60 million views in less than 24 hours. Moreover, it spread the type of message that could undermine future U.S. support for Ukraine — one of Kyiv’s main concerns as its biggest financial backer gears up for a presidential race next year. Ukrainian security expert Hanna Shelest noted that Ukraine and its allies at the start of the war prioritized communicating with national leaders, trusting that they would, in turn, convey to their electorates the danger Russia poses. But it’s ultimately voters who choose those leaders. This means that maintaining the degree of international support that Ukraine has received so far will require new communication strategies that target not just foreign policymakers but their millions of constituents, as well.

Ukrainian journalist Sergiy Sydorenko, a co-founder of the news site European Pravda, also challenged the assumption that Ukraine is clearly winning the “information war.” Citing coverage from major international outlets that described Moscow and Kyiv as “trading blame” for the destruction of the Kakhovka dam, Sydorenko accused the Western mainstream media of “giving five minutes to the Jews and five minutes to Hitler.”

Discussing the challenges of thwarting “disinformation,” Vera Michlin-Shapir, a lecturer in strategic communications at King’s College London, said that a more lasting solution would require addressing the real grievances that give these narratives their appeal in the first place. For governments, this would mean implementing social and economic changes to accommodate people’s need for both security and stability. “The worst thing that can happen is for us to brush [people’s] concerns away,” Michlin-Shapir underscored. “Ban them, and they move to more radical spaces.”

* * *

And now, on to this week’s feature story. May you find Kristina’s reporting, which I have translated and abridged for length and clarity, as fascinating as I did.

‘No normal person would oppose the Afghan War’

Protesting the USSR’s invasion of Afghanistan came at a heavy cost. In Russia today, history is repeating itself.

By Kristina Safonova

In December 1979, Soviet troops invaded Afghanistan. Upon hearing the news, 31-year-old Natalya Lazareva, an artist from Leningrad, penned an “Appeal to the Women of the World” condemning the invasion. But when she read over the text, she wasn’t happy with how it had turned out. So she crumpled the piece of paper, put it in a folder, and forgot all about it.

Nine months later, KGB officers who raided Lazareva’s studio discovered the abandoned “appeal.”

Initially, the artist was accused of violating article 190-1 of the Russian SFSR’s Criminal Code on “spreading deliberate fabrications that slander the Soviet political and social system.” However, Lazareva ended up standing trial on a different charge, perhaps so the authorities could avoid further accusations of human rights violations against the backdrop of the war. The artist was ultimately convicted of forging employment records and sentenced to 10 months in prison.

Lazareva served half of her term in Leningrad’s notorious Kresty Prison and the rest in a women’s penal colony in the Leningrad region. “Having gone through this, I could no longer stay on the sidelines and refrain from engaging in human rights work, which in those days was considered ‘anti-Soviet activity,’” she said years later.

In March 1982, less than a year after her release from prison, Lazareva stood trial once again — this time on felony charges of “anti-Soviet agitation and propaganda.” She then served another four years in a Gulag camp for women political prisoners in Mordovia.

‘The bloody mess of the Afghan venture’

“International assistance” — that’s how the Soviet authorities justified the Afghanistan invasion, recalled a historian who specializes in the dissident movement in the USSR during the Thaw and Stagnation eras. The Soviet leadership had used this playbook before: when they crushed the Prague Spring in 1968, for example. “In the case of Czechoslovakia, [claims] that they had asked for this aid were simply made up,” the historian underscored.

Please note: The historian quoted in this article was granted anonymity for safety reasons. As you may recall, the Russian authorities outlawed Meduza as an “undesirable organization” in January 2023, making any “cooperation” with our newsroom a criminal offense in Russia, punishable by fines and, in some cases, imprisonment.

Representatives of the People’s Democratic Party of Afghanistan, which came to power after a coup d’état in April 1978, did in fact appeal to the USSR many times, but to no avail. The Soviet authorities only decided to initiate a military operation against the backdrop of deteriorating relations with the United States and its allies — namely, in late 1979, after revelations about NATO’s plans to deploy Pershing missiles in West Germany, within striking range of Soviet territory.

Soviet officials told the population that only a “limited contingent of forces” was sent into Afghanistan, claiming that servicemen were mainly involved in building roads, hospitals, and schools, the historian recalled. “Soviet society truly had no idea about the scale of the losses,” he added.

Despite the dearth of reliable information, many people in the USSR opposed the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan. However, they weren’t able to express their anti-war stance openly. The Soviet Constitution guaranteed citizens freedoms of assembly and speech, but only in accordance with the “interests of the workers.” And these interests were determined by none other than the Communist Party leadership.

Under these conditions, writing appeals to the Soviet authorities and Western leaders became one of the main forms of protest. On January 21, 1980, for example, the Moscow Helsinki Group adopted “Document 119,” which demanded the implementation of a U.N. General Assembly resolution calling for the “immediate withdrawal of foreign troops from Afghanistan.” Since the Moscow Helsinki Group’s founding in 1976, its members had been under constant pressure from the KGB. The rights group was forced to stop working in 1982.

The Moscow Helsinki Group resumed operations at the height of the Perestroika era in 1989. In January 2023, however, a Moscow court ruled in favor of the Justice Ministry and ordered the Moscow Helsinki Group’s dissolution, thereby shutting down Russia’s oldest human rights organization.

The USSR’s most prominent human rights activist, physicist and Nobel Peace Prize laureate Andrei Sakharov, also condemned the invasion — both in his personal letters and in interviews with the Western press. A month into the war, on January 22, 1980, both Sakharov and his wife Elena Bonner were arrested and exiled to the closed city of Gorky (now Nizhny Novgorod) without trial.

Assessing the overall scale of the protests against the Afghanistan invasion remains difficult, the historian told Meduza’s correspondent. Expressions of dissent were “individual” and “unrelated.” People like Valeryan Morozov (an economist from Nizhny Tagil), Pyotr Siuda (a worker from Novocherkassk), and Viktor Tomachinsky (a mechanic who repaired dissidents’ cars) all spoke out against the war, independently of each other.

In the Moscow Metro, unidentified protesters scrawled “Freedom for Afghanistan!” across subway cars. Leaflets calling on citizens to start fighting the Soviet authorities at home rather than dying “for a foreign land” appeared across Ukraine.

Posev, a Russian-language socio-political magazine printed in West Germany and circulated clandestinely in the USSR, published the testimonies of Afghan refugees and recounted how “yesterday’s tenth graders” were dying after being “thrown by the caring hands of the government into the bloody mess of the Afghan venture.” The Samizdat magazine Maria, created by activists from the USSR’s underground women’s movement, urged mothers not to send their sons off to war and quoted the recollections of conscripts who had returned from Afghanistan. And the Group for Establishing Trust between the USSR and the USA — a pacifist dissident organization — repeatedly tried to hold demonstrations in both Moscow and Leningrad.

According to the historian, there could have been more protests if not for the fact that many key human rights activists had been locked up before the Afghanistan invasion, in preparation for the Moscow Summer Olympics in 1980. “It’s easier to name who wasn’t arrested in 1979 and 1980 and who was arrested later,” he said.

As a rule, the war’s opponents were charged with “spreading deliberate fabrications slandering the Soviet political and social system” or with “anti-Soviet agitation and propaganda” — criminal offenses that carried punishments of up to three years in prison or up to seven years in a Gulag camp and five years in exile, respectively. Repeat offenders charged with “anti-Soviet agitation and propaganda” risked up to 10 years in the camps.

The authorities even forced some dissidents into psychiatric hospitals, where they underwent punitive “treatment” using potent drugs and brutal methods that left some disabled.

But people protested nonetheless.

The newscaster

For Radio Moscow World Service announcer Vladimir Danchev, it all started with a misprint in a news bulletin. “The meaning of the sentence was completely distorted by the chance appearance of the grammatical particle ‘not,’” he later recalled in an interview. “I thought, What if I don’t take out this [‘not’] on air and read it as is? Worst comes to worst, I can point to the typo.”

No one noticed the “mistake” during the broadcast — and so Danchev gradually started changing the scripts himself.

These “dangerous games” continued for about a year. During a news program on May 18, 1983, Danchev reported that “the leaders of the Afghan tribes [had] vowed to fight against the Soviet invaders.” Two days later, he declared that “the Soviet Union [had] again shown that it’s not ready to develop constructive solutions regarding nuclear arms limitation in Europe.” On May 23, he condemned the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan in three consecutive news reports.

Fellow radio announcer Vasily Strelnikov was listening to the radio at home when he heard the news that “Soviet occupiers have burnt down a village.” He couldn’t believe what Danchev had said (Strelnikov described his colleague as a “Community Party member” and “an exemplary Soviet citizen”). The next day, he asked Danchev if everything was all right following his “mistake.” “I read out everything just as it should be,” his colleague calmly replied.

The Moscow Radio leadership found out about Danchev’s dissident messaging from the Western press. The newscaster was fired from his job, expelled from the Communist Party, and exiled to his hometown of Tashkent, where he was forced to undergo psychiatric “treatment.” In 1990, Danchev said in an interview that a group of French journalists helped secure his release.

The geophysicist

In 1972, nuclear geophysicist Iosif Dyadkin moved from Bashkortostan to Kalinin (now Tver). There, he befriended Soviet dissidents and, a few years later, decided to conduct a demographic study. In his work, which was poignantly titled “Extras,” Dyadkin analyzed official population data and determined that famine and repressions killed 10 to 15 million people in the USSR between 1928 and 1941.

Just as he did with other uncensored articles, Dyadkin typed up his findings and circulated it among his friends and acquaintances. In April 1980, he was arrested on charges of “spreading deliberate fabrications.” Investigators accused him of “slandering” the Soviet authorities not only in his writing, but also in conversations with his colleagues at the Geophysical Research Institute. Among other things, he had called socialism “a regime of violence and mass extermination of peoples,” referred to Soviet “assistance” to Czechoslovakia and Afghanistan as “aggression,” and said that the “Soviet Union’s foreign policy had led to the outbreak of World War II.”

Dyadkin was put on trial along with 27-year-old Sergey Gorbachev, a junior employee at the Centerprogramsystem Research Institute. “Apparently, [the authorities] decided that if they arrested and put pressure on him, then he would testify against me. But they miscalculated,” Dyadkin recounted. “Sergey, although he wasn’t a dissident, wasn’t the kind of person who would testify against a friend.”

Gorbachev was accused of printing copies of Mikhail Rozanov’s “Non-political Letters” (a pamphlet about totalitarianism and how to resist it) and giving one to a friend. Both men pleaded not guilty and received the exact sentences the prosecutor had asked for: three years in prison for Dyadkin and two for Gorbachev.

The poet

Boris Mirkin, a senior laboratory technician at the Research Institute of Military Medicine, was known as a “calm, peaceful, and quiet” man who wrote songs and loved to play the guitar. His arrest in 1981 provoked surprise and disbelief.

A month earlier, during a “secrecy inspection,” the 44-year-old was found in possession of “typewritten materials in poetic form” — poems in which Mirkin had condemned the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan.

Investigators alleged that Mirkin’s poems were “malicious fabrications” that slandered the USSR’s state system, as well as its domestic and foreign policy, and contained “calls to overthrow the Soviet government.” Mirkin didn’t deny that he used poetry to express his political views but maintained that he wasn’t guilty of committing a crime. His colleagues at the research institute agreed.

Nevertheless, in August 1981, Mirkin was convicted of “anti-Soviet agitation” and sentenced to three and half years in prison. He served his sentence in Perm-35, a Gulag camp for political prisoners. There, he trained as a wood turner. After his release, he was no longer allowed to carry out scientific research and continued working as a tradesman.

The archeologist

In 1984, Evgeny Denisov, an archeologistfrom Dushanbe, spent several days doing excavation work near Tajikistan’s border with Afghanistan. In his recollections of that trip, he described helicopters carrying rockets flying overhead and the muffled sounds of intermittent explosions coming from the South. “One of the members of the expedition showed me a small cape on the opposite bank of the Amu Darya [river] where, according to him, a group of Afghan guerrilla insurgents were corralled and then burned alive with Napalm from a helicopter.”

The next day, Denisov wrote, the members of the expedition were “laughing and discussing everyday trifles.” The events on the neighboring shore seemed as though they were “on a big television screen.” But upon returning home — where “it seemed as though the ‘television’ had been turned off” — Denisov realized that he couldn’t stay silent.

For the next year, he spent his free time typing up leaflets calling for the withdrawal of Soviet troops from Afghanistan. “I wanted not so much to tell the truth as to nudge others towards opposing this never-ending, bloody madness,” the archeologist explained.

In December 1986, the 35 year old took another work trip — this time to Moscow. While there, he mailed more than a dozen letters to magazine and newspaper editors in the capital, and another three letters to friends, imploring them to “forward” his anti-war texts “to the West.” Denisov then made his way to the GUM department store, where he climbed to the top floor and proceeded to scatter anti-war leaflets. Once finished, the archeologist simply waited for the police to come and arrest him. Officers took him in for interrogation, first at a police station and then in the psychiatric hospital at the Matrosskaya Tishina pre-trial detention center. He was then moved to a cell in the KGB’s Lefortovo prison.

A court convicted Denisov of “anti-Soviet agitation” and sent him for forced “treatment” at a special psychiatric hospital in Tashkent. “Because no normal person would oppose the war in Afghanistan,” the archeologist commented sardonically. Denisov was released in September 1988.

* * *

In late 1986, Soviet leader Mikhail Gorbachev gave Andrei Sakharov and Elena Bonner permission to return from exile. Three years later, Sakharov gave a speech before the Congress of People’s Deputies — the highest official body in the USSR in the years leading up to its collapse.

“I have deep respect for the Soviet army; the Soviet soldier who defended our motherland in the Great Patriotic War,” the academic said. “The fact of the matter is that the war in Afghanistan itself was criminal. A criminal venture undertaken by no one knows who. We do not know who bears responsibility for this enormous crime against our motherland.”

The deputies in the hall interrupted Sakharov’s speech with disapproving cries, whistling, and stomping several times.

Andrei Sakharov died on December 14, 1989. Ten days later, the Congress of People’s Deputies voted to denounce the Soviet Union’s 1979 invasion of Afghanistan. However, as the historian interviewed by Meduza’s correspondent pointed out, the courts refused to rehabilitate those who had been persecuted for condemning the war until Russia passed a law “on the rehabilitation of victims of political repressions” in 1991.

“Often those [in the justice system] responsible for rehabilitation were the very same people who, for example, had previously upheld dissidents’ sentences,” he explained. “The times changed, and they started to act in accordance with the times.”

Some of these people are still in power today and use the same tactics to go after their opponents, the historian added. “Consider the president [Vladimir Putin], who took part in raiding the homes of dissidents in the 1970s. Or Chief Justice Vyacheslav Lebedev, who tried human rights activists in the 1980s. The new is the not-so-well-forgotten old.”

‘Everyone has forgotten everything and history is repeating itself’

In April 2023, a coalition of lawyers and human rights groups — including OVD-Info, Memorial, and Russia Behind Bars — filed complaints with Russia’s Constitutional Court on behalf of 10 people charged with “discrediting” the army.

According to OVD-Info, the authorities have opened more than 6,800 misdemeanor cases against people for “discrediting” the armed forces since Russia began its full-scale invasion of Ukraine in February 2022. Some people were charged for holding up Ukrainian or white-blue-white flags, others for carrying signs with the words “Peace” or “No to War.” Other defendants were charged for poetry readings or even for wearing yellow-and-blue clothes. Another 80 people are facing criminal charges for allegedly “discrediting” the Russian army repeatedly.

“Any critical opinions about the armed forces are punished,” underscored OVD-Info lawyer Maria Nemova. “The ornate wording [of the law] is just tinsel that distracts from the unconstitutional, repressive aims of this article.”

“It seems that this lesson should’ve been learned,” said OVD-Info lawyer Violetta Fitzner. “But as we see now, everyone has forgotten everything, and history is repeating itself.”

Indeed, Russia’s ongoing crackdown on any and all anti-war sentiment increasingly resembles the Soviet authorities’ efforts to stamp out dissent.

“It’s the same policy: a monopoly on the truth and the interpretation of what’s happening,” the historian said. “The truth doesn’t matter, what matters is how information is used. If this information is used to criticize, in a manner of speaking, then the authorities say that it’s unreliable. Everything that’s not in our favor is a lie. Everything that’s in our favor is the truth.”

* * *

In the winter of 1983, Oleg Orlov — then a 30-year-old researcher at the Institute of Plant Physiology at the USSR’s Academy of Sciences — regularly spent his nights going around to different Moscow neighborhoods and pasting leaflets on bus stops and in the lobbies and elevators of apartment buildings. Orlov’s leaflets called for the withdrawal of Soviet troops from Afghanistan and an end to the war.

Photocopiers were few and far between in the USSR. So in order to print his leaflets, Orlov had taken it upon himself to assemble a hectograph — an old gelatin duplicator used by Russian revolutionaries at the turn of the 20th century. “To my wild astonishment, it turned out that a hectograph is a very simple thing,” Orlov told Memorial’s podcast Single Protest (he found the instructions in a pre-revolutionary Brockhaus and Efron Encyclopedia).

Even under cover of night, carrying out this type of protest action was “scary,” Orlov recalled. “It was especially scary when I’d done it and that’s it — it’s already irreversible. Maybe [the authorities] are looking for me already,” he said.

KGB officers never did manage to find Orlov. The raids of his home would take place many years later, on March 21, 2023. That same day, the news broke that Orlov — now the co-chair of the Memorial Human Rights Center — was facing criminal charges for repeatedly “discrediting” the Russian armed forces.

The Russian authorities have twice fined Orlov for conducting solitary pickets against the country’s all-out war on Ukraine. Now, he faces up to five years in prison. The formal pretext for opening a criminal case against him was a Facebook post: Orlov had shared one of his own opinion pieces titled, “The Wanted Fascism — And They Got it.”

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shurisneakers · 3 years

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harmless (x)

Summary: Bucky volunteers to go stop a small time villain, but nothing can prepare him for what exactly he has to deal with. (Bucky x villain!reader, drabble series)

Warnings: cursing, frustrated bucky, dramatic reader, anxiety, smidge of angst, mentions of violence

Word count: 7.8k (i went overboard. clearly.)

A/N: as well all know, i am a humanities student writing science geeks. if any of this sounds unrealistic or nonsensical, it’s because it is and i am honestly too exhausted to research data privacy and AI so here’s my take on how STEM should work i.e. the power of friendship <3 major shoutout to @iamlittlesparkler for the idea for this chapter!

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Previous Part || Series Masterlist

“As you know, we have a busy week ahead of us.”

Coffees line the conference room table, pens click against the stacks of paper that settle in front of various agents and the smell of deodorant mixed with post-training sweat lingers at the back of the room like a disgusting witch concoction.

“The annual parade is coming up and since there are a few security threats, SHIELD has been asked to step in. Therefore, all of you will be working security this week, possibly even at the parade.” Murmurs broke out in the room the minute this was said; mostly from first year field agents who were way too excited to have earpieces and fingerless gloves.

Bucky, on the other hand, doesn’t think much of it. They’ve dealt with threats before, most were declared empty the minute it got out that SHIELD or the Avengers were involved. It’s the 12th one that year.

“That’s only if we don’t catch it first,” Steve continued. “Our first priority is precaution. The tech and analytics teams are working on it. However, if you see anything suspicious, bring it up with Director Fury. He’s going to be around to make sure we’re not overlooking anything. Do you have any questions?”

More whispers erupted at the mention of Fury’s name. Wait till they realise he lives up to his name when they accidentally manage to set him off just by existing incorrectly.

Bucky smirks at the thought.

“You can leave then.” Steve straightens up as chairs shuffle against the carpeted floor, over twenty people leaving the room.

“And remember, if you see an eagle today, be sure to stand there and thank it on behalf of Steve for its service. Freedom! Liberty! And whatever else,” Tony calls out from the corner of the room, earning a sigh from the captain. Others only snicker as they close the door behind them.

“Thanks.” Steve stares at him stone faced, bemused at the symbolism that had been bestowed upon him.

“Gotta keep the patriotism high.” The only ones that remain are the official team. Bucky thinks that he should have left with the other agents but apparently, it was rude and not a good show of team spirit.

“How serious is this threat anyway?” Clint has his head face down on the table, hand holding his to-go coffee cup so it doesn’t fall over.

“We’re not sure.” Steve finally takes a seat on the chair in front of him. “It’s the biggest event we’ve had this year, wouldn’t put it past them.”

“If it’s those Welsh kids again, I’m gonna punch a hole through their house this time,” Clint warns, voice muffled through the furniture.

“It’s not them, we checked.” Nat had her leg up on the armrest of Clint’s chair. “Tech team’s been working overtime to figure it out.”

“You have anything that could help?” Sam sends a nod towards Tony.

“I got a few things but it’d take a while to put it together.”

“Didn’t you learn quantum physics in a night?” Wanda’s picking apart a cookie into pieces, chewing slowly.

“Thermodynamic astrophysics,” he corrects her. “Quantum science took lesser.”

Bucky scoffs slightly at the brag, eyes still trained on the table in front of him. Maybe if he made no noise, they would forget he’s here.

“Yeah, so this should be a piece’a cake.”

“If your cake was somehow made out of a highly specified tracker that somehow doesn’t violate the data privacy of the entire world while analysing millions of terabytes worth of information, then yeah. A piece of it.”

“What he means to say-” Bruce interjects, “-is that we’re trying. It’s just taking longer than usual.”

“Well, the parade’s this Sunday. Think it’ll be done by then?”

“Hey FRIDAY,” Tony crosses his arm over his chest. “How many hours have I slept this week?”

“Three and a half, boss.”

“How much more will I be getting?”

“From previous experience, about six.”

“Yeah, we can get it done.” Tony looks back at Steve.

“Ask someone on the tech team to help you out.” Everyone was well aware of Tony’s bad coping mechanisms and how futile it was to get him to change his mind about it, but they still tried.

“They’re too busy.” Bruce pressed his lips into a straight line.

Bucky tunes out at this point. If he could help, he would have reluctantly chimed in by now, but he couldn’t.

“So what now?” Sam rips Clint’s doughnut into two, keeping one half for himself while leaving the other to the latter who still hadn’t lifted his head up from the table.

“I actually asked Fury if I could call in an external to come help,” Tony pipes up.

“And he agreed?” Nat raised an eyebrow.

“After he realised I wasn’t going to leave his office until he said yes.” He pulled out his phone, rapidly typing out a message before hitting send. “It didn’t take too long.”

“Do we know this person?” Steve asks a little suspiciously.

“Well-” Bruce sneaks a glance at the broody man on the chair, “-kinda.”

Everyone can tell Bucky isn’t paying attention by the way he’s glaring holes into the plant. He doesn’t mean to, it just so happens that it looks like he wants to kill it. Nobody tends to bother him during meetings, knowing well and fully that he did not care.

“You’re about to.” Tony jumps up, making his way to the door to pull it open.

Bucky perks up. An open door means they can leave, right? He can go watch The Bachelor? He’s not sure what everyone was talking about, but if the meeting was over he could go ask Wanda who was always kind enough to help.

“Our newest recruit,” the billionaire announces, quickly adding the next part, “on a trial basis.”

Bucky looks at the door.

His jaw drops open.

“No,” he says loudly, posture immediately stiff as a plank.

“Hello to you too, Barnes.” You roll your eyes before sending a small wave to everyone else. “Hey everyone.”

“What are you doing here?” He looks like he’s seething.

“Don’t tell me you forgot about our date.” You cross your arms over your chest in defiance. “You told me 3 o’clock, you player.”

“What is she doing here?” He whips to Steve for an answer.

“Hey Y/N,” Sam greets with a smile on his face before Steve can reply.

“Sam Wilson, good to see you again.” You grin.

“Right back at ya, sugar.”

Wanda looks amused, Clint finally lifts his head off the table at the mention of your name while Nat takes her feet off his armrest, and Steve’s body relaxes when he realises what’s going on.

“Okay.” Tony claps his hand. Bucky shoots daggers at him. “As you all know, this is Y/N. She’s going to working with us this week.”

“This is ridi- how did you even find out about her?”

“Aside from the fact that she’s all you talk about?” Clint snorts. Bucky shifts his glare to him. It was bullshit and an exaggeration and Clint was going to get a shoe up his ass very soon.

Your grin only grows bigger.

“We saw one of the repulsors she made some time ago,” Bruce answers his question like the sane person that he is. “Tony’s had her in mind for a while.”

“Repulsors? How on ear-” Bucky connects two and two together before turning to Sam. “You. You got her this job.”

“Sam’s my best wingman.” You send him a small heart made from your hands. Whether the pun was intentional or not, no one would know.

“Don’t look at me, I had nothing to do with this idea.” Sam raised his hands to brush off the blame.

“You’re a villain,” he points out loudly.

“I’m a saint.” You raise your hand to your heart in mock offence. “I have done nothing wrong in my life, ever.”

“Listen, Robocop,” Tony interrupts your conversation, bringing the attention back to him, “I cleared it with Fury. He’s the boss here.”

“Fury doesn’t know-”

“What don’t I know?” The atmosphere of the room changes the minute he saunters in.

With an eyepatch on his face, gaze sharp and a long black coat, Nick Fury puts Bucky’s dark outfits to shame. Not like he was competing.

Bucky doesn’t continue his sentence. Nick’s imposing presence loomed at the doorway, putting a stop to the ridiculous arguments that were beginning to boil. Instead, he looks at you, only to find your attention trained on the man of the hour.

“Nicholas,” you half cheer from where you had shifted to in the middle of all the commotion.

Nicholas?

No one had ever called him Nicholas.

“Y/L/N,” Nick addresses in return. “Been a while.”

“You haven’t come to the lair in months, Nick.” You pout at him. “I even sent you an invite.”

Bucky furrows his eyebrows. Since when are you on such good terms with Fury? Since when was anyone on good terms with Fury?

“It must have gotten lost in the mail,” he fires back, “Or maybe it’s because I just happen to be the busiest man in the damn country. Take your pick.”

You roll your eyes, muttering something under your breath, but the good natured smile on your face shows that you didn’t take any of his passive- or straight up- aggressiveness to heart.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realise I was interrupting your little tea time.” He looks around the rest of the room with an edge in his voice. “Don’t you all have work to do?”

“We do,” Tony interrupts, holding up his hand before pointing to Bruce and you. “Everyone else just sorta sits around and looks pretty.”

“I’m gonna go talk to the organisers, see what spots are most vulnerable.” Steve stands up. “You coming?”

“Yep,” Sam responds, flicking Clint’s shoulder to drag him along. “Come on, man. When was the last time you took a shower?”

“I’ll go see what the kids are up to in training. They’re probably flying off the handle right now.” Natasha brushes off crumbs from her lap. “Barnes, you in?”

Bucky silently shakes his head, eyes focused on you as you introduce yourself to every Avenger who walks out of the room, sharing a small fist bump with Sam.

“I’ll do it,” Wanda volunteers instead, finally leaving behind only the Science Bros, you and Bucky in the room with Fury.

“I’ll give you a tour of the lab.” Tony beckons and you nod, following him. “New eyepatch, Fury? Prada, I assume?”

“Stark,” Nick says curtly.

Bucky stares after you, arms still folded across his chest.

“Any problem, Sergeant?”

Other than the fact that his arch nemesis was now working with his friends, no, not really. But that did seem like a pretty big one.

“No,” Bucky mumbles instead, getting up from his place finally.

Apparently, no one else was worried about the possibly lethal combination of you and Stark, even with Banner there to dilute it.

Fine.

Guess he just has to observe you the whole week.

Well, half a week. It was Wednesday.

He observes inconspicuously over the rim of his coffee cup. He has a newspaper spread in front of him at Bruce’s table.

It’s not suspicious. He’s been there multiple times to sit in silence with the scientist who occasionally tinkers with something while engaging Bucky in tidbits of conversation. He finds it calming, refreshing even

Today he has an agenda. Everyone knows about it too.

“You know he’s staring at you, right?” Bruce looks up briefly from the giant blueprint laid in front of the group.

Tony had been dragged away to get a proper meal into him after he stayed up for 36 hours straight with caffeine keeping his system running.

“He has a tendency to do that.” You’re looking over the plan the three of you had come up with the day before. There were certain changes to be made in terms of efficiency. “Turns out if you annoy him, he stares harder.”

“We’ve heard about the inventions. Inators, he calls them?”

“Yeah,” you point out something on the sheet, drawing a circle around it to come back to later, “only good things I hope?”

“He doesn’t really talk much.” Bruce writes down a small comment against your arrow mark. “But if he hated them, he’d have a lot to say. So I’d take it as a compliment.”

“Would it annoy him if I did?”

“Probably.”

“I’ll take it as a compliment, then. Pass me the ruler?” You draw a line connecting two pieces.

Bucky’s ability to lip read is excellent but he refuses to do it, for privacy purposes. He knew that SHIELD had pulled some strings and had another teacher substituting for your classes the whole week since your other option was to come only after school hours. Anything else about this plan was murky.

“You gonna sit there all day?” Tony looks over his shoulder, following his line of sight.

“I’ve done it before.” He continues to look over the newspaper at you with your finger extended at something on the blueprint as you explained something to Bruce.

“You look like- how do I say this nicely.” He wasn’t going to. “A fuckin’ stalker.”

“I’m supposed to stop her from doing anything evil.”

“Sure.” Tony snorts. “That’s what this is. Should I get you a fedora and sunglasses while we’re at it?”

Of course Stark wouldn’t care; he brought you into this project. It was pretty much impossible to get him to agree with Bucky.

Bucky just narrows his eyes and continues his observation.

The menu of the cafeteria keeps changing. They like to keep things interesting.

Every time they do, Bucky spends too long staring at the menu, trying to figure out what exactly is familiar enough to order. Vietnamese week had him eating pho the entire duration it stayed.

“You plannin’ on eating anytime this century, sarge?” He recognises your voice immediately.

He knows what time your break is and he knows that you generally eat lunch in the cafeteria with the science team. Generally, the three of you pour over solutions and debate points all through the meal, and he spends the time getting acquainted with his new, lowkey Instagram account.

He blocks the Bucky Barnes hashtag the minute he gets an account again. God save his eyes from people asking him to break their back like a glow-stick. However, one afternoon of accidentally watching three cat videos has led to his entire explore page being taken over by them and he’s been trying for three days to get it to stop.

“Just trying to-” he tilts his head. “-understand what I’m reading.”

“Not a big fan of Greek food?” You join him in looking at the menu.

“Never really had the chance to try.” Tony and Bruce don’t seem to be in the room, probably pushing aside their meal to work on it as they’ve often done.

“Ah.” You already had your order in mind but you wait there.

Two minutes later he’s still staring at the menu. He can feel your presence next to him, unmoving. It unnerves him.

“Why are you still standing here?” He cranes his neck to look at you.

“I’m just seeing how long it takes for you to order.” You shrug. “So far it’s been five minutes and forty six seconds. Forty eight now.”

“Go away.” The concept of someone standing beside him, waiting for him to do something reminded him far too much of him trying to bag his stuff at the grocery counter rapidly while other customers waited to pay.

“Six minutes and thirty seconds. This is just sad now.”

“Your face is sad.” It was pathetic that he had now resorted to this.

It earned a laugh from you.

As entertaining as it was to be able to get on his nerves by just standing silently next to him, you finally ask, “Do you want a recommendation?”

He eyes you wearily. “You gonna give me food poisoning?”

“Not today, no.” You shake your head slightly. “Maybe tomorrow.”

He stares a little longer. You remain unshaken in your offer.

“Fine.” He sighs, stepping aside.

You tell him that since it’s his first time, you’d get him something basic. He thought it made sense.

He argued with you when you ended up paying for the both of you, only shutting up when you told him he’s holding up the line and that he could pay you back later. It doesn’t stop his incessant mumble complaining.

He ends up with gyros at his table and you sitting opposite him with your meal. He asks where the Science Bros are. You tell him it’s Science Hoes now, as christened by Tony, and that they’re in the lab.

“So?” You look at him eagerly.

“What?”

“How is it?” you urge, nodding at him.

He takes a cautious bite, really taking his time with it to annoy your impatient ass.

“Well?” You raise your eyebrow at him.

“It’s-” he pauses, looking down at his food. “-good.”

“Aha.” You lean back victoriously. “Knew it.”

He likes it. He also knows that this is probably going to be the only thing he orders for the next week unless you had planned otherwise.

“You’re not eating?” He gestures to your untouched tray.

“Taking it up to the lab. Got a few things to work on and we’re already behind.” You gather up your stuff and get up.

“Uh-” he pauses from practically inhaling the entire thing. He was already halfway done with it. “-thanks.”

“No problem. You wink at him. “Try figuring out what’s wrong with it.”

You turn on your heel to leave, taking your order with you. He can see your shoulders bobbing with silent laughter.

He stares down at his plate, swallowing slowly.

He pokes at it with a fork, lifting up the leftovers to check if there’s anything underneath. Nothing.

He checks to see if his limbs are still intact or his face was a different colour. Nope.

His stomach twists in worry about what’s going to happen. He still has a bit left but he pushes the tray aside.

The rest of the day he spends supervising you has you occasionally catching his eye, only to laugh. It only freaks him out more.

It takes eight hours of waiting and self induced tests later to realise there was nothing wrong with it. You were just playing with him.

He’s surprised to find you in the rec room when he strolls in with Sam, given that you haven’t taken a break all day.

You don’t share the same surprise... almost like you expected him.

“How long have you been waiting for me?” he immediately asks.

"I wasn’t here for you.” You raise an eyebrow at him. “Heard that Wilson was makin’ an appearance here soon so I stopped by to get a good look at him."

"Take a picture, it'll last longer.” Sam laughs, inserting a dollar into the machine and punching in the code for what he wanted.

"Gladly. Strike a pose, would you?" You grin, raising your phone.

“Maybe when I’m not covered in sweat.” Sam counter offers and you accept with a thumbs up.

“You going to the parade, Sam?” You toy with the can in your hands.

“I’ll be working security, so probably.”

“Sarge?” You take a swig of your drink.

“Huh?” He snaps back into the conversation, putting a stop to the mental list of reasons he was making of why you could be here at the same time as him. He knew your schedule, it wouldn’t be very hard for you to figure out his.

“You coming to the parade on Sunday?” you ask again.

“I guess.”

You wince.

“What?” he asks instantly, curiosity making him a lot sloppier than usual.

“It’s just- you wear so much black.” You gesture to his current getup to prove your point. ”I feel like all the bright colours would vaporise you if you looked at them.”

He doesn’t look amused.

“You know, like Prince Philip.”

“I think I’ll be fine.” He gives you a sarcastic smile.

“You comin’ Buck?” Sam laughs, unwrapping the bar he bought from the machine.

“You go ahead, I’ll catch up,” Bucky says offhandedly, still glaring at you innocently drinking your soda.

Sam chews absentmindedly on his protein bar as he walks out, amused at the situation Bucky pulled himself into.

“What’d you do?” Bucky asks, studying your body language.

“I bought a soda.” You lift the can to prove your point. “And now I’m drinking it.”

“Why are you waiting for me?”

“I thought I’d return the favour,” you point out. “I’m supervising you.”

“Don’t.” He walks to the vending machine, pulling out his wallet for some loose change. There was a Snickers bar he had been craving since morning that he bought every alternate day. Small joys.

“Why? I have the time.” You take a sip, setting it down with a clang.

“You’re only here for this week.” Bucky counted the coins he had. He’d use a dollar but he was trying to get rid of the jingling in his pocket that made him sound like a fucking clown when he walked.

“Actually,” you begin innocuously, “Tony offered me a full-time position.”

Bucky’s movements stop, hunched over the money in his palm.

“What?”

“Yeah.” You nod seriously. “A full nine-to-five as a researcher here.”

“And you’re taking it.” He shakes himself out of the minor shock to assess the damage.

“I don’t know. I got a lot of things to consider.” The chair scrapes against the tiled floor as you stand up. “But maybe you should get used to seeing me a lot more around here.”

He punches in the code for his Snickers. The row whirs forward slowly.

“See you at the lab.” He hears you discard the empty can in the trash before exiting.

He waits patiently for his bar to drop while his mind internally screams about the consequences of having you work here. You wouldn’t be evil anymore. Unless you were here to steal secrets from the Tower. On the pro side, his weekend would be free again. On the con side, his weekend would be free again.

His bar stops right at the edge of the row. He waits for it to fall over. It doesn’t.

He shakes the machine, suppressing the primal urge to beat the shit out of it when the damn bar refuses to fall.

He punches in a few random buttons hoping that at least it would give his money back.

The little monitor instead flashes a new message across the screen.

‘Have a good day, sarge <3’

Motherfucker.

Captain America looks less daunting up close, you realise. But he is still a very large man with very large shoulders. You know at least four people who would like to scale him like a tree, not that you’d ever tell him.

“Hey, Y/N.” He sends you a small smile when you walk into the room for a mid-week update. A clipboard in your hand, report attached and a few stationery items in case some points needed to be noted done, you look professional and ready.

“Afternoon, Captain.” Tony saves a seat for you and Bruce beside him since you’re on the same project. You almost miss the fact that Bucky isn’t in the room.

He walks in a few minutes late; tall, dark and brooding, immediately bringing the excitement in the room down by 40% by just existing.

Bucky surveys the room before catching your eye. He picks up his chair with ease and drags it over to where you are, sitting right beside you, ignoring the small cry of protest from an agent whose view he now obstructed. Everyone else just silently shifted over.

“Clingy much?” you whisper at him, eyes still trained on Steve who had waited till everyone was seated to continue.

“I’m supposed t’be keeping an eye on you,” he rebuffs in a hush.

“Well, you’re late. What if I went rogue, huh?”

“Therapy ran overtime,” he mumbles.

“Oh.” You blink. “How was it?”

“Same old.”

“You good?”

He refrains from answering when Steve starts addressing the room but yes, he was fine. He sends you a nod to confirm.

“This is just a usual checking in. We’ve received all your reports, but just to keep everyone on the same page-”

Bucky logs out mentally. He knows what his job is, he’ll probably lead a division of the security team or join the mission to neutralise the threat in case they find it first. Either way, he’ll figure it out without having to listen to an intern nervously stammer their way through their team’s report.

On the other hand, you’re not listening either. You were until you saw Bucky’s eyes glaze over while glowering at the window, assuming that he had stopped paying attention when his gaze doesn’t shift.

You should be listening. You’re new here and you should know what’s going on because any bits of detail are crucial to the working of your system.

Instead, you rip out a sticky note and discreetly place it on the back of Bucky’s metal arm. He doesn’t notice.

You bite your lip to stop yourself from smiling. More post-its from your pile of stationery make their way onto the vibranium, shades of pink, purple, green and yellow decorating his arm like a bulletin board.

You’re about to contemplate sticking one on his shoulder blade when he whips around to look at you. You freeze, hand in the air with a sticky note. He looks down at his arm, a scoff escaping him in disbelief.

“Are you serious?” He twists his arm to check the extent of how far you’ve gone. “What are you, six?”

“How’d it take you so long to notice?” You watch as he tugs them off one by one, counting to see how many you had managed to get on there.

“It’s impossible not to zone out in these shitty meetings,” he mumbles, pulling off the last one, crumpling all of them into a ball to throw at you. You skilfully avoid them.

“Don’t you feel pressure or heat or anything here?” You poke at his metal arm.

“No.” He clenches and releases the fist. “It can block bullets though.”

You snort. “Bet that’s a popular line in bed.”

He rolls his eyes. “I mean, it helps that I can’t feel anything. Sometimes,” he adds the last part as an afterthought.

“Like when you’re blocking bullets.”

“Especially then.” He nods.

“Would you ever want to?” you ask casually. “Like if you got the choice, would you prefer having feeling in that arm?”

“I don’t know.” He’s thought about it, but it doesn’t seem feasible in his line of work. He’d like it, though, to feel sand slipping through his fingers and the comforter under his palm. “Maybe when I’m retired.”

“Aren’t you well past that age?”

“Shut up.” He rolls his eyes. “And pay attention. You’re next.”

“So you are listening.” True to his word, Steve asks about what’s going on with your team. “Traitor.”

Tony shoots off about how you only had to test it out on a small batch first to see if you could acquire the targeted data without compromising anything else. You chime in about a few specifics, and Bruce more or less just confirms what you both are saying, only stopping to let them know that you’d be finished in a day or two.

Steve nods, moving on to the next committee.

“Did I get a good grade?” you whisper when you lean back again.

“B minus at best.”

“Fuck you, dude. I was great,” you protested. “It’s definitely worth a gold sticker.”

Someone shushes you sharply. You apologise quietly, whacking Bucky’s metal arm when you see a dumb smirk on his face.

He narrows his eyes at you.

You try sticking another post-it on him.

You’re only here for a week. That’s what he’s been told. Over six times, actually, after which he’s been told to go away the next time he asked.

No one’s brought up the job offer so he asks Tony if it was true and all he gets is a dismissive ‘yeah, whatever’. Besides, you haven’t told him if you accepted or denied it yet so isn’t sure if this entire thing is set in stone, per se.

So then why do you have a giant box of your belongings that you’re lugging around the lab, looking to set down?

And why does Tony allow you a table right in the centre of the lab for everyone to see as soon as they walk in?

There are a gazillion trinkets, picture frames and obnoxiously bright stationery that stands out against the dull minimalism of the lab.

“Every single one of these is a fire hazard,” he reports, standing over your desk.

You give him a side glance before reaching over to the side of your desk, pulling up a fire extinguisher and setting it on the table in front of him. “I came prepared, bitch boy.”

He doesn’t dignify that with a response. He chooses to look at what exactly you’ve brought with you because it’s a lot.

There are small cards with ‘thank you!’ sprawled on them in uneven lettering, bits and pieces of paper with small cartoons on them, little clay models and other miniature trophies with ‘you’re the best!’ under it.

“Your students gave you these?” He can’t remember the last time he gave his teacher anything other than a headache.

“Sometimes they learn or communicate better when they have something to keep their hands busy.” There’s a certain fondness in your voice that he isn’t used to hearing. “I end up with a lot of doodles and craft.”

“’s nice of them.” He can tell that this means a lot to you. He hasn’t seen it before.

He thinks the little decorations are adorable and maybe he’d keep another fire extinguisher on hand, just in case.

Until you start pulling out a set of framed photos and his smile drops.

Several collages of Bucky in flower crowns, him with terribly edited backgrounds of beaches and mountains, a photo of him laughing with ‘Live, Laugh, Love’ next to it in an italicised font.

“What the fuck,” he states, grabbing one of them.

You stifle a laugh, pulling out several more to place along your table.

“Where did you fucking get these?” He starts pulling them off the table one by one.

“I don’t think you know how much the internet is obsessed with you.” You set an especially large one of him in a Hello Kitty bowtie right in the centre. He doesn’t miss the star shaped frame you chose for this.

“What is wrong with you?” He swipes that up immediately, looking for a place to discard, possibly burn these pictures. “Why do you even have these?”

“It’s imperative that people know we’re friends.” You bite your lip, bringing out the last thing to annoy him.

“What is that?” A teddy bear with a blue jacket and a grey felt arm stared into his soul.

“A Bucky bear.” Don’t laugh, don’t laugh, don’t laugh. “Limited edition.”

He snatches it along with the fifteen other picture frames, thinly veiled distress and mostly disgust on his face.

“I hate you.”

“But I love you.” You lift the small heart shaped locket you hung on one of the pictures of your class.

You use both your hands to click it open for him, watching his face morph into one of disbelief.

Bucky my beloved, it read on the right with a small picture of him on the left looking intensely disgruntled. He doesn’t bother asking where you found that specific picture of him outside a Burger King at 3am.

He doesn’t even make an effort to take it away this time. He knows that you’ll simply bring up more and more until you drove him crazy.

“You still have to see the Avengers calendar.” You reach for the inside. “I changed all the pictures to you, it looks great-”

He turns around and leaves before you get a chance to flip open the pages.

He wanders around, looking for the best disposal area he can find. He knows there’s a giant fireplace in the common room in the Tower, and for that, he’d have to go up a couple of floors.

He steps into the elevator, chin pressing down on the several picture frames in his hands to prevent them from falling over.

No one sees him carrying a couple of fan edited pictures and merchandise of him. Which was good.

Unfortunately, the doors ding open on the next floor and his best friend steps on with possibly the worst timing ever.

“Buck?” Steve sounds confused. He should be, considering the sight.

Bucky shimmies slightly to get a better grip on his belongings. “Steven.”

Steve glances at what he’s holding.

“Is this,” Steve pauses, trying to frame his words correctly to sound as supportive as possible, “a therapy thing?”

“No.”

Steve waits for a further explanation.

“It’s Y/N’s,” he elucidates. Steve’s eyebrows furrow.

“Why are there so many pictures of you?” He looks at the content in his hands a little closer. “And a bear.”

“She’s evil. And I hate her.”

“Alright.” It doesn’t answer his question but his friend looks irked enough.

The elevator dings to the common room floor.

Bucky turns on his heel to head toward the place to set all the pictures on fire. He saves the picture frames to give back to you though, he’s sure those cost money. But he makes sure every last square inch of the picture with several hearts around his portrait burns to ash.

Bucky knows that by the time Saturday afternoon rolls around, the three of you would have been working for thirty hours straight, scrambling to get the last minute details done.

You’re still at it but he can tell through the adrenaline of the upcoming deadline that you’re exhausted.

Now he’s grouchy but he’s not an asshole. He’s already done two coffee runs for the team and brought you food when you didn’t show up for lunch. He mumbles something and dismisses it when you call out a ‘thank you’ his way. He considers it a debt repaid for the gyros.

He’s still keeping an eye on you but along with an emergency box of doughnuts for any sugar rushes that may be needed and bottles of water that he occasionally leaves at the corner of the table for you three to subconsciously keep yourself hydrated.

“Are you sure we checked it?”

“Yes.” Bruce nods.

“Double checked it?”

“Yes.”

“Triple checked it.”

“Yes.”

You look satisfied enough to move on to the next item. “Pass me the welding torch for a second.”

Bucky has a book in front of him that he hasn’t moved beyond the second page of. He’s more interested in seeing who collapses from burnout first. He has the infirmary on speed dial.

After another hour or so Tony holds up a silver tablet, roughly the same size as a smartphone, examining it from all sides.

“That’s it,” he states. “The final product.”

You exhale lightly.

“We should name it.” You have your hands on your hips, looking down at it in wonder. Maybe the zero hours of sleep was finally kicking in because you couldn’t believe you were finally done.

“You got any suggestions?” Tony asks.

To be frank, no, you didn’t.

“No.”

“Okay, we’ll do that later.” Tony sets it down, not sounding too disappointed. “F.R.I.D.A.Y, tell the team to get down here, please.”

“Yes, boss.”

Bucky jumps off his chair to join you in the lab, leaving the book behind.

It only takes a few moments for the others to join. Fury and Steve walk in together, already engaged in conversation.

“Greetings.” You clap your hands together. “We did it. We think.”

“We think?” Nick raises an eyebrow.

“We know,” Bruce clarifies quickly, stepping in. “We’re positive it works. We tested it out.”

Tony pulls up the holograph of F.R.I.D.AY’s system, sliding the tablet to the middle of the table.

“Is it secured under FRIDAY’s core?”

“Locked and loaded.” Tony hits the table lightly to signify that it was safe.

“I think we’re ready,” Bruce confirms.

“We better be, or else half the country is suddenly going to lose their internet connection,” you say under your breath.

“What?” Bucky’s eyebrows knit together.

“Nothing,” you beamed, “Okay F.R.I.D.A.Y., run sequence, global parameter.”

“Running sequence,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. parrots.

There was no going back now.

From what Bucky can see, Tony looks fairly confident but you have your bottom lip caged between your teeth, chewing on it nervously.

There are several hundreds of photographs popping up and disappearing within a minute. Everything looks like it’s going according to plan.

The giant holograph of the AI dims. Your face drops when F.R.I.D.A.Y. seems to sputter to a halt.

No one breathes.

In the midst of the tension, Clint mutters if they should play some background music. It’s followed by a swift ‘ow’ when Natasha flicks him in the shoulder.

You could hear a pin drop.

It suddenly picks back up again, running faster than the last time and the sigh everyone collectively heaves is almost comical.

It runs for a few seconds more before a list of names suddenly pop up accompanied by a series of photographs and geo locations.

“Sequence complete. Six names detected, zero encroachment on public or private databases,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. broadcasted. “Location determined to be Holland. Exact coordinates are computed into the quinjet.”

You let out a small cheer, looping your arm around Bruce, squeezing him in a half hug. He has a smile on his face, dropping his head as he laughs slightly.

“How dangerous are they?” Tony, however, continues to ask.

“A few prior convictions and a series of similar threats. Danger level determined to be at approximately five out of ten.”

“That’s not bad,” Steve commented. “Looks like we don’t need the full team there.”

“Romanoff, Barton, Wilson, Rogers can go ahead and take care of that,” Nick finally spoke up. “Everyone else is working security tomorrow, just in case anyone else decides that terrorism is on their fuckin’ to-do list for the day.”

“Buck, assemble a team and go over strategy for tomorrow,” Steve adds on. “Everyone else go suit up, wheels up in thirty minutes.”

“Fuckin’ Holland,” Sam scoffs, shaking his head. “Of all the places.”

“What do you have against Holland?” Nat asks as they leave together.

“Just don’t like ‘em.” Their voices grow faint the further they get.

“Hey.” A small greeting from behind you has you turning around.

Wanda stands in front of you and you have to ignore the fact that the most powerful being on Earth is talking to you.

“Hey,” you say back.

“I just wanted to say congratulations. You did a great job.” Bits and pieces of her accent poked out. She didn’t seem like she was putting in the effort to cover it up as opposed to the press interviews you had heard a few years ago.

“Thank you.” You smile. “T’was a team effort.”

“Well, we owe you one anyway,” Steve joins the conversation, leaving aside Tony who was still talking to Bruce.

“I wish I was humble enough to turn it down but I’m not.” You laugh. “It’s nice to have an arsenal of superheroes at my disposal.”

Steve looks like he’s going to respond but his attention is drawn towards F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s announcement that the quinjet was ready to go. He shoots you an apologetic look but you sign for him to go on, you’d meet with him later.

You watch as he claps Tony on the back, telling him to go get some sleep and something with more nutritional value than a pizza pocket in him, nodding at Bruce before taking leave.

“Y/L/N,” Nick stands beside you, looking ahead at the conversations being had as Steve tugs Clint along with him.

“Nicky,” you tease.

“I know at least seven underground prisons I can put you in if anyone hears you calling me that,” he says stoically.

“We all know you won’t get rid of me.” You shake your head. “Who’s gonna send you a Christmas card then, huh?”

He simply shakes his head, jutting his hand out and offering a handshake. “Not sure anyone here could handle another day of a highly caffeinated, sleep-deprived Stark.”

“Just say ‘thanks’, Nick, geez.” You roll your eyes.

Bucky watches the entire interaction unfurl; only the body language, not employing the lip-reading ability.

“You’re welcome.” You let go of his hand, a devilish look on your face. “You know what I want in return.”

Nick gives you a long, hard stare that could probably melt through Steve’s shield before turning around to leave.

But Bucky doesn’t miss the subtle high-five he gives you while walking out, unbeknownst to anyone else, bringing the biggest grin to your face.

He makes it a point to ask you what the fuck kind of leverage you have over the man for him to play favourites with you.

You finally collapse at your desk, letting out a loud exhale. You clench your eyes shut, your body finally melting into your chair. You look exhausted.

He’s not sure how to help. You don’t seem like you have the energy to tell him.

Bucky leaves a doughnut and water bottle on the table in front of you before shuffling out of the room quietly.

He’s certain that he’s spent far too long in Bruce’s lab this week. He liked the man as much as the next guy, but he probably wouldn’t come down there for the foreseeable future.

You’re at your assigned desk, reading light illuminating the space. Thankfully you’ve cleared up most of your stuff from the table, leaving no more liabilities to fall over in case he walked into the desk.

“So you’re done for the week.” His voice surprises you. You were scrolling through your phone, slightly hunched over.

“It appears so.” You put your phone down, swivelling the chair to look at him.

“How’d it go?” He leans against your table, making sure he isn’t using his full weight.

“Well, I slept for fifteen hours straight, so...” you leave him to connect the dots. He’s done the same several times.

“You’re probably gonna need more,” he says, mostly from his own experience, “I’ll see you tomorrow then?”

“Actually-” you reach beside your table and lug your gigantic box of belongings onto the table with a loud thud, “-you won’t.”

He looks at the box that was nearly overflowing with its contents, the majority of the space being taken up by empty picture frames. “I thought you said Tony offered you a job.”

“He did,” you confirm. “I didn’t accept.”

“Why?” He watches you shift through a few things, adjusting it so that it wouldn’t fall over.

“This whole thing- it’s cool and all, but it’s not what I want to do.” You shrug. “I like teaching. I miss my class.”

He gaze lands on one of the thank you notes sticking out from the corner of the box. “Ah.”

“Back to school from tomorrow.”

“And evil on the weekends?” he prods, dropping a pen into the heap of stationery.

“Obviously.” You give him a lopsided smile. “Where else am I gonna use all this brilliance?”

You point to your head. He lets out a small exhale in the form of a laugh.

“Speaking of-” You look like you just remembered something.

You rummage through your backpack and pull out a small container, handing it to him.

“What’s this?” He turns it over, looking for any hidden clues. “Are you proposing again, because I’ve said no-”

“I’m not proposing,” you interrupt, “yet.”

He gives you a deadpan look.

“Open it,” you urge, and he complies.

Two small squares sit side-by-side. They’re slick black, barely bigger than the face of a dice.

“You put one of them here-” You tap on his bicep “-and the other here.” You tap his shoulder, a few inches below his clavicle.

“What does it do?” He thinks it’s like Nat’s little taser things, a nifty little tool that he could use on missions.

“It, uh-” you hesitate “-it allows you to feel sensation in your metal arm. Heat, pressure, texture.”

His breath hitches in his throat. He doesn’t mean for it to happen, it just does.

“You said that sometimes you’re glad you couldn’t because of the bullets and stuff. They’re detachable, so just take them off when you go on missions and wherever it is you Spandex ambassadors go.” You scoff slightly.

He can’t remember the last time he felt something soft with that arm or used it for something that wasn’t directly related to his job.

“I’m not messing with what the Wakandans gave you. It’s the most advanced piece of tech out there.” You shrug. “But if you ever want to feel it when someone attaches sticky notes to your arm, this could work. Just thought it’d be nice to have an option.”

He can’t decipher what he’s feeling right now. He looks up at you, only to catch you eyeing him cautiously, assessing his reaction. When you notice he’s looking at you, a nervous smile makes its way onto your face.

His stomach does a flip.

“Thank you,” he says quietly.

“Don’t mention it.” You sound a little relieved, picking up the box that he’s pretty sure weighed a ton what with all his memorabilia in it. “See you next week.”

He doesn’t know how to explain what it means to him.

Instead, he shoves his hands into his pockets. “What are you doing later?”

“Nothing.” You pause. “Why?”

“Are you gonna watch the parade?”

“Yeah, probably.” You shift your weight to your other leg to compensate for the box.

“Want some company?”

“Aren’t you heading a security division?” You have to consciously hide the bewilderment from your voice.

“Yeah. The place I’m stationed just so happens to have a good look into the street,” he explains, toying with the bracelet on his wrist. “Can’t really promise that I’ll be paying attention to it or that I’d even be there the whole time but for the most part...” he trails off.

“Uh-” You force yourself to shove aside your surprise at his determination, “yeah, sure. That’d be cool.”

He nods. “Okay. See you there.”

“See you,” you murmur as you walk to the elevator.

He opens the tiny container to look at the small chips. They’re still there, silently like they don’t change his world just by existing.

Gosh.

Next part

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #mcu fic #bucky fic #bucky barnes fic #bucky fluff #bucky barnes fluff #bucky angst #bucky barnes angst #winter soldier x reader #Winter Soldier #bucky barnes #bucky

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simplymurdock · 3 years

Text

Decontamination

summary: after a long night getting chased by dead serial killers from shadyside’s past (y/n) figues it’s now or never to confess her feelings for her best friend.

pairing: simon x female reader

warnings: langue, mentions of death, underdressing in front of someone (that’s all i could think of but if i missed anything let me know and i’ll add it <3)

word count: 1,359

authors note: after a million and a half years i finally wrote something and went through with it !! everyone can thank @jinxthequeergirl simon headcanons that spark this and @fearstreetss entire blog only fueling my love for simon. I hope y’all enjoy it because pure fluff is sum of my favorite things to write about.

The lost and found box was placed on the school floor as everyone crouched down and started going through it. Each finding something that actually fit and didn’t have giant holes in them. “Alright, we have to decontaminate.” Josh said as they all piled their clothes into their arms.”You can’t have any of Sam’s blood on you.”

“Well, not much we can do about that.” Sam muttered before walking off to a class room as Deena followed. “Deena, you have to get clean too! Not a single drop, oaky?” He yelled after them.

“Rub-a-dub-dub time!” Simon remarked as the three of them were going into the bathroom as Kate stopped them seeing she was going in by herself.. “Hey, wait. I don’t want to go in by myself. don’t want to go in there alone,”

“I don’t either, which is why I’m staying with the one who knows what’s happening, and Simon.” (y/n) remarked getting a ‘hey’ from Simon.

“I’ll go with you,” Josh said as Kate gave him a smile in return as Simon and (y/n) shared a look thinking the same thing. Holding the door open for her as he followed in right behind her.

(y/n) took the sink at the farest end while Simon took the sink one over from the door. Each piling off their clothes, turning the water on and washing away the blood and dirty they could. But it came clear to her that she was gunna need some help. She glanced over to him seeing he was looking over himself.

“Hey Si--,” She started to say but had to clear her throat, “Can you check my back?”

At first he didn’t answer looking her up and down once before looking in face not wanting to push anything she didn’t want. As she stood in front of him in her underwear and bra. She stepped closer waving in front of his face. “Hello? Earth to Simon?”

He blinked a couple of times before nodding, “Yeah, yeah, yeah.”

“You sure? You zoned out for a sec,” She asked as he nodded insteading he was fine. She turned around holding her hair up. He looked over at her lightly moving her bra strap to check under it as small bits of electricity jolted through her body while each touch made tiny goosebumps raised on her skin. “Good news you’re clean,”

“And bad news?” She asked knowing there was always ‘bad news’ with him.

“Our therapist will think we’re crazy.” He said, making her laugh. He loved her smile and definitely needed it after what they had seen.

She turned back to face them as she quickly realized how close their faces, each other noses basically brushing against one another.“Yeah that’s if we make it through tonight,” She remarked, grabbing the ugly gym shorts she had and bending down and putting them on.

“Hey,” He said softly, grabbing her hand getting her attention, “We are going to get through this. Alive, all of us.”

“Yeah, well I have things I want to do before I die, so I hope you’re right about this.” She remarked looking down. That certain thing was how she felt about him. She had a crush on Simon for as long as she could remember. Kate knew how she felt after one to many longing looks in his direction. She made her swear on everything that she would never say anything to him. But what (y/n) didn’t know was Kate had a few hours earlier sworn to him she wouldn’t say anything to (y/n) about his feelings for her.

He smiled pushing his floppy hair from his face, “Oh really? What are these things?”

She quickly looked down picking at her nails, not wanting to look him in the face. Knowing if she didn’t say something now she wouldn’t ever do it. Not knowing if the adrenaline from running from dead serial killers all night was still going through her veins, or if it was actually herself doing this. He saw her picking at her nails knowing she only did it when she was nervous about something.

“You know what--”

“No it’s okay, I--” They both said speaking over each other, Simon trying to change the topic and get her mind off it not wanting to see her stressed. And (y/n) just trying to get it out, but the words just wouldn’t.

“No really you don’t have to--”

“I like you.” She blurted as the room fell silent as they both looked down.

“It's just…” She trailed off picking at the white part of her nail, swallowing harshly. “I just don’t want to die with regrets. And with everything we’ve seen I don’t want to take any--” She started to ramble as he quickly cupped either side of her face and pressed his lips against hers.It was sweet and simple but made the same goosebumps appear on her arms.Pulling apart from each and pressed their foreheads together. “--chance.”

His wide smile quickly made its way on his face, swiping his tongue along his bottom lip tasting her sweet cherry chapstick. “God I’ve been wanting to do that forever,”

“Took you long enough,”

The two basked in each other for a little to long. Realizing it and quickly throwing on whatever clothes they could find that didn’t have blood or dirt on it. “You two almost done? We got some serial killer ass to kick!” Kate yelled banging on the door frame as the door was a simply push door.

They smiled at each other before walking out. (y/n) fixing the stiff loose fitting shirt that swallowed her body, while Simon followed out behind her. “Blame my shoes, they didn’t want to tie properly.”

Josh nodded looking around for any sight of his sister and Sam, while Kate knew better. Seeing how close they stood next to each other, closer than normal, and how with each glance at each other a smile grew more and more on each of their faces. But the nail in the coffin was when she noticed they had the same red tinting on each other's lips. She crossed her arms as a sly smile creeped it’s way onto her lips. “Right. Your “shoes” took up both of y’alls attention.” She used air quotes before gesturing between the two. “It was about time,”

“Oh really?” (y/n) questioned looking over at Josh and back at her. “Please, it was barely first base.” She insteaded.

Simon grabbed (y/n)’s waist turning her to face Deena and Sam, “Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait. Did you… all go to pound town?” He asked after resting his elbows on her shoulders so he could talk with his hands.Everyone stayed quiet before he broke out into a giant grin, “Us too!” She looked up, hitting his chest lightly shaking her head.

And they went to get started on the plan. Kate and (y/n) were about to walk off to get the CPR dummy before Simon grabbed her hand playing with fingers.”One kiss before we die?”

She smiled turning her full body towards him looking at his lips as she brought her lips closer to his. Swiftly putting her finger to his lips, “You can get the kiss when we survive,” She said walking backwards, “We’ll be right back, I promise!” She shouted, turning and hooking her arm with Kate’s.

#fear street #fear street part one: 1994 #fear street simon #horror #netflix #netflix horror #movienight #horror movie #flimtv #fear street kate #fear street deena #fear street sam #fear street josh #horror x reader #simon kalivoda #simon kalivoda x reader #fear street 1994 x reader #fear street x reader #simplymurdock

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puppypeter · 3 years

Text

✨ All fics are complete! ✨

He Loves Me Cause I’m Cute, He Thinks I’m Pretty Funny | 2588 words 📱

He watches it back one more time after it posts, checking for typos in his subtitles and captions, and has to laugh again.

Steve fucking Rogers? His brain thought he could pull Captain America, literal superhero and America’s favorite sweetheart?

“Hello I’m a 35 year old amputee living in New York and I think that I could get Steve Rogers.”

the one where bucky posts a tiktok and steve is utterly smitten.

Summer Slipped Us Underneath Her Tongue | 10712 words 🧳

Bucky is a tour guide who enjoys sharing the rich history and culture of each city they pass through with a bunch of early-20's college students who just want to know the cheapest place to get drunk.

Except for Steve, who asks Bucky for a personal tour around his hometown.

The rest is, as they say, history.

You Make My Heart Skip A Beet | 3853 words 🧑🏼‍🍳

“I made soda bread.” Steve lets out the 6’2” supersoldier equivalent of a squeak. “Oh, I love soda bread,” he says eagerly, rolling forward on the balls of his feet like he does when he gets excited. “My mom used to make it all the time when I was growing up.” The tips of Barnes’s ears turn red, and he mutters something that sounds suspiciously like, “I know.”

Ollie Meets Bagel | 5517 words 🥯

He was a skater boy, Steve said let's get bagels, boy.

Steve wants to start doing this twenty-first century thing properly. He gets help in the form of skateboarding, skateboarders, bagels, and Sam Wilson.

Taxi | 5113 words 🚕

Bucky Barnes was, he hoped, a good taxi driver.

He's so good, he actually tries to return lost property that ends up left in his car and... well. It has some unexpected consequences involving a National Icon.

Enough said.

Leg Day | 12157 words 🏋️‍♂️

“So talk to him,” Sam says.

“I can’t,” Bucky groans. “I can’t, Sam, I. He just.” He fluffs his hair up and stares at Sam, distraught. “I want him to bench press me.”

“Okay, so it’s serious,” Sam interprets. “Got it."

(Or: The one where Sam is Bucky's long-suffering roommate, Bucky is a hot mess of a millennial, and Hot Steve spends far too much time on the Lat Pull-Down machine.)

Love In Aisle Four | 2127 words 🛍️

When Bucky needs to swing by the supermarket after a long, hard day of work, the last thing he expects is to meet a cute grocery clerk named Steve…

Coming Up Easy | 45515 words ✍🏻

“Listen, I was just thinking,” Steve says, his face open, eyebrows raised in a tentatively hopeful expression. “Why don’t you come stay at my place for a while? I’ve got an office that I barely use, and a change of scenery might do you good, right? Help you beat that writer’s block?” With a crooked smile, he adds, “I promise I’m not a serial killer.”

While Bucky would normally crack a joke about how that’s exactly what a serial killer would say, right now, all he can do is blink at Steve in surprise, heart tripping over itself in his chest. Steve wants him to come and stay at his place. In Massachusetts. Just the two of them.

"Oh," Bucky croaks. "I- Wow."

“I mean, no pressure,” Steve says hastily. “Totally fine if you don’t wanna. I just thought I’d offer, in case it might help, y’know?”

“Yeah.” Bucky ignores the little voice in his head that sounds an awful lot Nat and Becca, telling him he’s setting himself up for heartbreak. “I mean, if you’re sure, that would be amazing.”

Anywhere The Wind Blows | 8845 words 👨‍🚒🎖️

After a catastrophic fire that shakes him to his core, Steve Rogers quits his job as a Brooklyn firefighter and relocates to a cabin in the remote Canadian wilderness, wanting quiet and solitude and to maybe never have to speak to another human being ever again. He gets his wish, more or less, until a recently injured Bucky Barnes is discharged from the Army and rents the cabin next door.

The Safer Course | 7918 words | Part 1 of Won’t You Be My Neighbor 🏡

When Steve moves to the suburbs in 2033, he intends to retire from superhero life.

He does not intend to fall in love with his pain-in-the-ass neighbor.

Every Year I Have You | 7064 words | Part 2 of Won’t You Be My Neighbor 🏡

Steve set the bar pretty high, as birthday presents go.

Bucky is determined to outdo him when July 4th comes around.

Beneath The Mistletoe | 21203 words 🎄

Bucky had a bet with his sister that if he didn’t have a boyfriend to bring home for Christmas by the time he was 25, he had to give her $200 and go blonde for a year. But now he's 25, it’s nearing December, and not only is Bucky as single as ever, but he’s also running low on cash. He doesn’t exactly want to bleach his hair, either.

At least Steve is willing to upgrade their relationship from best friends to fake boyfriends.

The Settler | 52203 words 🍞

“What do you want to do?”

Steve pauses and looks at them.

What he wants is to stay with them. He doesn't have any family left, they all died before he even joined the war and became... this. Captain America turned whatever he is now. But Natasha and Sam have become his family over the years. Not just because they're on the run together, fugitives and vigilantes, but way before that too.

He doesn't want to leave that.

But he knows that, realistically, he can't stay with them and they can't stay with him.

So he looks at them with a smile and lies. “I don't know.”

OR; In which Steve retires and finally finds a place to call home.

You Can’t Put Your Arms Around A Memory | 1148 words 🐈

"Alright, Bucky," Steve slows his steps, watches his neighbour stop at the bottom of the next flight of stairs. There's a canvas bag in his hand that Steve didn't notice earlier, cream coloured with the figure of a sleeping, black cat painted on it. "Have a good day."

He thinks Bucky's cheeks pink up a bit right then and there, but Steve can't tell. He's too distracted by his pounding, foolish heart, by the way Bucky smiles bashfully, and ducks his head. The way he seems like he wants to stay.

To Believe In Tomorrow | 3959 words 👨🏻‍🌾

Bucky's mornings at the community garden get a little more interesting when the new guy shows up.

Maybe This Christmas | 24873 words | Part 1 of Maybe ❄️

Bucky’s not going home for Christmas. But it’s fine. He’s spending Christmas alone in his apartment, but it’s cool. He’s not feeling up to seeing his family after his accident anyway, plus he has to work. He’s totally fine with it. But then he runs into Steve, literally, and suddenly his Christmas isn’t looking so empty after all.

-----

Hurrying was a bad idea. Bucky’s foot hits a patch of ice and slides out from under him in what would have been a comical cartoon banana-peel-like trip, if it wasn’t happening to him, and he braces himself to hit the ground. This is going to hurt.

“Fuck,” Bucky screeches, but as he lands on his back, it’s not the cold hard concrete he expected, but a solid mass beneath him. Oh god, Bucky thinks as he realises he smacked into the person behind him and took them down with him.

Maybe This Year (Will Be Better Than Last) | 133868 words | Part 2 of Maybe ❄️

Last year, Bucky Barnes met Steve Rogers. Well actually, he slipped and fell on him. What followed was the best Christmas either of them had ever had. But what happens when Christmas is over and life returns to normal? What happens after the Christmas miracle?

-----

Bucky should have known. He did know. When things seem too good to be true, they usually are. And Steve is the best thing that has happened to him in a long time, possibly ever, so of course it couldn’t last.

Maybe This Time (I Hope I Get The Chance To Say Goodbye) | 34561 words | Part 3 of Maybe ❄️

Steve and Bucky Barnes are happily married. They've made it through some hard times and come out stronger and happier, together. Then Steve gets called on to come out of retirement for the most important mission of his life and everything changes. Everything.

-----

“Have yourself a merry little Christmas…” Steve starts singing along softly, and Bucky chuckles, before leaning his head onto Steve’s shoulder, always happy when he’s in Steve’s arms.

“From now on, our troubles will be miles away…” Bucky joins in.

Dancing round their living room, just as in love as ever, their troubles seem light-years away, if not non-existent.

Sadly, they’re closer than they think.

The Unexpected Gift | 9504 words | Part 1 of When Winter Comes 🐕

Steve Rogers is fine.

After ending a long-term relationship with Sam Wilson, Steve moves back to New York. He's tired and lonely but depressed? No. At least, that's what he thinks.

From the window of his apartment, he watches a dark-haired man and his service dog sitting in the park, wondering what his story is.

The Winter Storm | 2218 words | Part 2 of When Winter Comes 🐕

"If I could give you one thing in life, I would give you the ability you see yourself through my eyes, only then would you realize how special you are to me."

After Bucky and Steve confessed their feelings for each other, life has its own twisted way to challenge the most profound love.

One January Night | 4213 words | Part 3 of When Winter Comes 🐕

Before going back to work, Steve Rogers still has things to learn: 1- Depression is a bitch and the battle against it isn't an easy one. 2- Dating a person with disabilities comes with its share of challenges.

Bucky Barnes Has His Shit Together (And Other Lies He Tells Himself) | 14159 words 🔒

You’d think a guy who owns one of the most successful bakeries in Brooklyn, has a million-dollar smile and that antiquated good ol’ boy charm, blond hair and blue eyes and biceps for days, would know what’s what.

But don’t let that fool you: Steve Rogers is a mess.

Obvious | 917 words ☕

"Oh, I have a prompt! So, it makes me laugh how painfully obvious Steve and Bucky's feelings are to everyone when they're in that pining, slowburn, does-he-doesn't-he phase. But imagine Steve and Bucky working in a coffee shop together and constantly bickering, nudging and playfully flirting with each other. And all the employees and patrons are so invested in their relationship and just want them to kiss already but no one realizes that Steve and Bucky have been married since they got out of HS."

#stucky #steve rogers/bucky barnes #bucky barnes/steve rogers #stucky fics #stucky fic #stucky fic rec #stucky fic recs #stucky fics rec #stucky fics recs #stucky fan fiction #stucky fiction #stucky ao3 #stucky complete #stucky au #adorable stucky fics

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wearywinchester · 3 years

Text

Back Again

Mechanic!Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: When it’s time to say goodbye after a date, Dean finds that it’s a little harder than it looks to do just that.

Requested by @halietigges: “Hello! Can I please request a oneshot where Dean is driving the reader (gender neutral) home after a date and the two share a goodbye kiss before the reader leaves the car and returns back into their home?”

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: none—fluff, kissing

You sigh as you smile, content as ever as you walked to the car. Dean’s hand enveloped yours, keeping you close as you made your way along the well worn path. It was quiet, save for the growing breeze and the birds chirping before sundown, save for the two sets of footfalls over gravel. The clouds were rapidly becoming abundant as the breeze continued on, but even the impending storm couldn’t dampen your mood, couldn’t dissolve the happiness simmering in your stomach.

You felt a bit of relief when you caught sight of the Impala, the raindrops falling against your skin having been sparse but you knew it was only a matter of time before they’d pick up their pace. You quickened your step as you pulled Dean along, hearing his chuckle behind you.

“Easy there, sweetheart. The car’s not going anywhere,” he says, teasing in his tone as he wraps his hand around the door handle, opening the passenger’s side for you.

You spun on your heel as you looked at him over the door, his amused gaze catching yours as he began to walk around the front end to get to the other side. He stops in his tracks at the mere smile on your face, his lip between his teeth as he awaits your next words.

“You know,” you start, your smile widening even more as you look at him, “you keep sayin’ that, and maybe one of these time Baby just might prove you wrong, Winchester.”

He rolls his eyes at that as you duck into the car, closing your door as he opens his. You don’t fail to see the smile tugging on the corner of his mouth or the shake of his head, or the laugh that leaves his lips softly. His hand hovered over the key that sat in the ignition, his words on the very tip of his tongue as your words replayed in his mind. That’s when he turned to you.

“You’re ridiculous, you know that, sweetheart?” He says, gaze fond as ever as he looks at you.

“You bet I do.”

His tongue swipes over his lips as he shakes his head once more, starting the car as his smile still lingers as he pulls out and looks at the road ahead. He turned on the radio, halfway through a song that he’d been quick to hum along to as he sped down the road.

It was the end of another date night amongst many, this one just as good as the last and the others before that. It was one that left you smiling to yourself as you looked out of the window at the trees and street lights passing by.

You’d gone to that diner in town, the one with those fries you swear are your favorite you’ve ever had. He knows that and it’s why he brings you there whenever he gets the chance, because that smile you’ve got on your face every time you get them makes it all worth it to him. That diner’s got that bacon cheeseburger he orders every single time without fail because nobody makes them quite like they do there. You know that and that’s why you pick that place every single time.

Your thoughtful reasons were unbeknownst to each other but still very much there each and every time.

He’d picked you up after he closed up at the garage for the day, having taken you straight to dinner the moment he found it in himself to stop looking at you like the lovestruck guy he knew he was. He’d never in a million years admit it though, no matter how much Bobby picks on him for it, no matter how much Sam teases him for it even for the years that built up to him finally asking you out on that very first date.

You were his best friend, the one he fell in love with and it took him a lot of stubbornness and a lot of Sam talking Dean out of backing out of making that move. He was glad he did and he wouldn’t admit that to Sam either.

He’d shown up on your doorstep with that famous Dean Winchester smile, the one that’d always seemed to be reserved just for you despite you being unaware of that fact. But just about everyone that knew the two of you were very much aware of it, it was hard not to be. You had your usual meal at that special diner you’ve alway found yourselves in one way or another for a number of years. You sat in your usual booth with all the contentment in the world as you sat there across from one another.

He’d snagged the last two slices of apple pie when it was nearing sundown, taking them to go and heading off to the one place you always went to. It was a quiet spot, nestled with trees standing tall all around the lake they framed. There was a wooden dock on the water’s edge, one you sat on together more times than you can count ever since you were teens who were too oblivious for their own good.

Now you were a couple of twenty-five year olds who’d finally worked up the nerve to be more than fools who’d pined for each other in secret, still oblivious to just how much you’d cared for one another.

You sat on the edge of that dock with your pie, a couple teasing jests shared amongst yourselves and bites stolen from the other’s slice. It was just the two of you there and you wouldn’t want it any other way than just that. It was your spot.

Dean Winchester wasn’t a man for fancy, best of the best restaurants, or the suits and ties and pristine fashion that come along with attending such a place. He wasn’t a man for wine and five course meals that cost way more than they’re worth. He loved greasy diner food and beer and the coziness that comes with eating in a place like that; it felt like home and it was comfortable. In fact, he’s still got some grease stains smudged across his cheek and under his nails from work. Still smudged on his t-shirt and the flannel he wore over top of it, his knuckles scraped up and busted from a car he can’t quite remember had been the cause.

He wasn’t one for expensive gifts, didn’t have the means for it despite the way he wanted to give you everything you deserve. It was one of the reasons he’d been so stubborn on talking himself out of taking you out on a date some time ago because he felt you deserved better than him, more than him, but that was something he’d push down forever because he’s quite sure that feeling wouldn’t ever go away.

Because despite that, he couldn’t keep himself from you, regardless of that nagging feeling he shoved down, he’d never be able to keep himself from anything that’s you.

But he wasn’t one for all that stuff in the movies and you couldn’t care less. You’ve got everything you need and there wasn’t a single thing you’d change about any of the dates he’d taken you on. You could do the same thing with him for forever and a day and not a single time would you find yourself growing tired of it so long as you did it with him.

You turned your head and looked at him, his gaze on the road as his elbow rested atop the ledge of the door as his hand draped loosely over the wheel. It didn’t take him very long to feel your gaze, his suspicions confirmed when he looks to his right and finds you smiling that smile at him, the one that makes him weak in the knees every single time.

He bites the inside of his cheek as he looks forward once more, and you know that look anywhere.

“You know, sweetheart,” he starts, throat clearing as the corner of his mouth quirks up a little more. “I heard if you take a picture, it might last longer.”

There it is.

You roll your eyes at his words, head shaking as you bite back your smile.

“You should maybe consider taking your own advice some time too, Winchester,” you say, your smile widening all the more at the look on his face, at the faux frown tugging at the corners of his mouth before his lips purse.

But that look didn’t last long, not at all as a quiet laugh fell from his lips.

You grinned as you looked down at your hands, at the small bouquet you held bunched in your loosened fist. It was a cluster of an assortment of flowers that didn’t match, picked spontaneously from the patches of wildflowers by the lake. It was something sweet that he thought of the moment he saw them, but it was something that made him make a mental note to get you a real bouquet next time.

But the small bunch of flowers grasped in your hand was more than enough for you, the look on his face when he’d plucked them from the ground and given them to you would be something stuck on your mind for a good long while and you were more than content with the idea of that.

The drizzling rain was steady as he pulled onto your street, the clouds having covered what was left of the sunset in favor of a looming gray, a contrast to the weather when he’d first picked you up. It didn’t seem like it would be stopping any time soon, heavy droplets pelting against the windshield and ricocheting off the hood of the Impala.

But that seemed to be the least of your concerns the very moment he pulled up in front of your house, parking along the curb.

You ran your tongue across your lips as you sigh, gaze looking out at the rain until it inevitably landed on green eyes as he’d done the same. He’d since turn the heat on low on your way home, seemingly a comfortable comparison to the chilly and gloomy evening weather just outside of the car. But when you met his gaze, just about everything else seemed to melt away and slip to the very back of your mind.

“I’m really starting to hate the idea of kissing you goodbye every time we go out on a date, you know,” he says, the corner of his mouth quirking up.

“So, you hate kissing me goodbye?” You jest, head tilted as you try your hardest to bite back your smile.

His lips purse only momentarily as his eyes roll, tugging you all the more closer as his hand settles on your cheek. Your cheeks burn with a light heat as the warmth of his breath sweeps over your lips, his smile very much there.

“Sweetheart, you know what I meant,” he murmurs softly, lips pressing to yours in a kiss almost feather light, lingering there for a moment or two. “It’s the goodbyes I’m worried about.”

Your laughter is quick to simmer against his lips and dissolve into a hum just as quickly as it sounded, his lips warm against your own as the pad of his thumb brushes along your cheek. The tip of his freckled nose bumps against yours as he tilts his head, his own smile pressing into his kiss.

In not so perfect timing, a crack of thunder sounded, drawing your attention away from him and to the more than obvious fact that it might be in your best interest to head inside before the weather worsens.

Your gaze flickers from the windshield to Dean, his lips kiss swollen and pink as he swipes his thumb over his bottom lip with a sigh, his head tipping back momentarily. But he finds he can’t keep his eyes from you that long, the fondness of the look he’s got on his face mixed with the dread of parting ways for the night melding together in his expression.

He had his hand on the door handle, ready to get out and hurry you to your door in the rain before you stopped him.

“De, there’s no use in having you get rained on too,” you say, your brow raising when his lips purse. You knew he couldn’t care less about that but he also knew you wouldn’t budge. “Goodnight, Dean.”

“Night, sweetheart,” he says quietly in the close proximity as you lean over the bench seat, kissing him once more.

You braced yourself as you stepped out into the rain, rounding the front end of the car before hurrying up the walkway to your front porch, the rain having dampened you being less than ideal. But he waited, he waited until you got up to your porch, waited until you got your keys after fumbling for them, waited until you opened your door and got inside safely before he even thought about pulling away. He always did that and he always would.

It wasn’t until you closed your door that you sighed, back pressed to the wood surface as a sigh left your lips, breathless from your rain dampened jog up to your house and breathless with utter content as your eyes fell closed for just a moment. Your smile still lingered just as it had done almost the entirety of the last few hours, sitting on your lips as you set your flowers down, set your keys on the table by the door.

You had to admit, goodbyes were the worst part of every date, of every bit of time spent with the older Winchester. The thought of it always had dread pooling in the pit of your stomach and it’d felt that way for as long as you could remember, but the both of you were far too stubborn to admit just how much you hated it.

But you didn’t have much time to think about it with the knock that sounded against your door.

You spun on your heel and twisted the door knob, opening it a crack before the smile tugged at your lips in an instant. When you opened it fully, green eyes stood on the other side of it under the covered porch, a half smirk on his lips as your flannel sat grasped in his hand. The one you kept in there for safekeeping should you find yourself running cold.

You take your lip between your teeth as you look up at him, your amusement more than evident in your expression.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re making excuses just to see me, Dean,” you say, matter of factly as your hand remains pressed on the edge of the door.

“What do I look like, some sappy rom-com guy?” He asks, trying his hardest to sound offended in the slightest bit.

“Do you really want me to answer that?”

You watched those dimples appear by the corners of his mouth despite his ever present grin, his tongue wetting his lips as he looked away for a moment. Watched as droplets of water drip from the ends of his hair and roll down the bridge of his freckled nose to the very tip of it, dripping down to the ground.

You shake your head at his antics as you let go of the door, stepping out onto the porch.

“You really are something, Winchester,” you say.

You lean on your toes and settle your hands on his cheeks, lips brushing over his and your flannel drops from his hand in favor of wrapping around you his smile pressing into yours.

Goodbyes were what he’d dreaded most, even if he’d see you the very next day. It didn’t matter. You knew it’d be a matter of time before he’d shown up on your doorstep once more that night with a more than foolish excuse—he always did.

And you were fine with that.

—

Tags: @flamencodiva @stixnstripesworld @elegantbutedgy @humanmistakes @agalliasi @campingmonkey @deandaydreaming @lanea-1 @akshi8278 @kidd3ath @taikawho

#dean winchester #dean winchester oneshot #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester fic #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fanfiction

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vibraniumwing · 3 years

Text

my stars know about you.

a sam wilson x fem!reader blurb wherein sam finds the old videos the reader has when he was snapped away.

WARNING: a bit of angst and tfatws spoilers for those who haven't watched but aside from that, nothing else.

A/N: ha yes hello i impulsively wrote this bcs my muse was so high all of a sudden and i have this monologue ready for it. listened to this playlist right here and wendy ft. john legend’s written in the stars <3 also, is this still a blurb ??

---

Sam had promised you he would clean around the house while you go on a fun little weekend with Sarah and the boys, wanting to give you more time to relax and be around his family; his lips churning up into a small yet giddy smile at the thought of the small velvet box hiding somewhere in your shared room that contained the necklace you’ve been eyeing whenever the two of you could go out.

He was half-way done with the things hidden in your work drawer when he came across a flash drive that had a label written on it called visual diary. His brows furrowed lightly as walked to his side of the office, opening his laptop and plugged it in, opening the files to see multiple videos titled with dates, the first one from all the way back in 2018.

Sam shifted in his seat, clicking on that certain video only to be greeted by your tear-stained face and bloodshot eyes, under eyes dark from the possible lack of sleep. His heart dropped at the distraught look on your face as you took a deep breath in before looking into the camera.

“hey sam, it’s me. it’s一 it’s been exactly five days since Nat called me about how you were one of the people who, unfortunately, got snapped into non-existence.”

The way you spoke caused goosebumps to form along his skin, realizing that these were probably videos you'd made five years ago, when the snap happened. Sam’s heart was shattered at how lost you looked from the other side of the screen, wanting nothing more than to cradle you in his arms.

“I’m with Sarah right now, she’s sleeping in her room with Aj and Cass. She’s been strong, but you can see the worry in her eyes一 she’s holding up much better than I am though. I’ve been such a mess, I can’t look into the mirror without seeing… feeling you beside me. I miss you.”

Sam stopped the video, his own tears starting to choke him upon seeing the state that you and his younger sister have been. He knew that it was hard, after seeing Sarah struggle with the family business and keeping things together; seeing you wake up at night with cold sweat glistening on your skin as you jolted up from yet another nightmare of him not coming back.

He wanted to stop from diving deep into the videos but his curiosity was stronger. He scrolled through some more videos, randomly clicking on one.

This time, Sam was greeted with a somewhat cheery you, out on the hill you first confessed your attraction to him一 the same night he admitted that he loves you more than a friend, where everything started between the both of you.

“hey there, handsome. i surely hope you can recognize where i’m at right now, if not, then i guess i’m kicking your ass.”

He chuckled, finding your humor amusing despite how lackluster your tone was as you spoke into the camera. Sam reached up to trace your features that were present on his screen, remembering every single feature of yours, engraving it into the forefront of his mind.

“today’s the day we’re supposed to celebrate our first anniversary, sammy. we should’ve been in hawaii by now, swimming with the fishes or explore the beauty of that island. instead, i’m here, in my car alone on the hill where we first admitted our feelings for each other.”

Sam didn’t fail to notice how you were trying your best to hold back your tears, taking note of how your tongue poked the inside of your cheek一 a habit he noticed you would do whenever fighting strong emotions一 and he whispered a small, “Don’t hold your tears back, sweetheart.” and as if you heard him, you let out a small chuckle.

“if you were here right now, i know you would say something like, “don’t bottle those tears up, beautiful” or something along those lines. i want you to know that i’m trying, sam. but it’s hard, it’s been five long months since you’ve been gone and i don’t know how long i can last without hearing you say you love me or your obnoxious laughter that would resonate through the house.”

“I love you, baby.” was all that left Sam’s lips, tongue jutting out to dampen his lips as he listened to you speak, mind blank as too many thoughts about what he wants to say to you as of the moment are too much.

“i’ve told the stars about your laughter. it’s niche and cliche, i know, but mom told me to tell them all about the people i treasure the most whenever i can’t tell others about them.”

“i told them about how beautiful you are一 about how scintillating your eyes are that they could battle even the brightest star in the sky tonight. i let my stars know about how amazing of a chef you are even though you almost burnt my old apartment’s kitchen down because you forgot about the cake you tried so hard to bake.”

Sam cringed at the memory, nose scrunching up in disbelief that he could forget such a simple task; he spent the night apologizing and all you ever did was smile and lean in to give him a kiss in hopes to shut him up.

“i told my stars about how brilliant you are一 how your words are so deep even with the shortest sentences, about how you can easily captivate me and a bunch of others with the stories that you speak… about how much love you have for me and for everyone you care for. it never ceases to amaze me how you can stand up and fight for the people that you love.”

At this point, Sam was already in tears as you shared about how you spoke about him. He adored how your eyes were filled with that well-known fondness you have whenever you speak about something you love.

As the video ended, Sam was left to look at the reflection of himself on the screen, staring at his reflection as your words echoed in his mind. He always listened to you ramble on about how everyone’s destiny was written somewhere in the skies, their lives aligned like the constellations that shined bright in the nighttime.

Normally, he would brush it off, skeptic to that belief but as he tuned into your stories, he can’t help but believe that in what you were saying. Sam was about to play another video when he heard the familiar jangle of your keys in the front door.

Sam pulled out of his chair and raced over there to meet you, immediately engulfing you in a tight hug before you could even close the door. “Hello, beautiful.” he softly greeted, pulling away to place a light kiss on your temple. “How was your weekend away with Sarah and the boys?”

You chuckled softly at the sudden affection he was giving, dropping your duffel bag on the floor to wrap your arms around his torso, feeling how relaxed he was against you. “It was great! Could’ve been better if you were there to be with us.” you answered, reaching up to peck his lips a few times, making the latter smile. “What’s with the affection? Did you break something, Samuel? Wait一 were you crying?”

He shook his head, adamant in admitting that he was, he lifted you up easily as he took you over to your shared office, sitting back down on his office chair with you in his lap as he showed you the compilation of the videos, “I… I found the flash drive while cleaning and I got a little too curious and decided to see what was on it and well, turns out I got a bit more than what I expected.”

“I was going to show them to you one day, Sam.” you admitted, making yourself comfortable as you snuggled up to him, his arms laced around you securely. “But I wanted to make it a bit more… special since this was a very vulnerable time for me.” the softness in your voice made him curl a single digit under your chin to make you look at him.

“I’m sorry that I left you alone for that long, baby girl.” Sam apologized, feeling incredibly guilty for leaving. Despite knowing it wasn’t his fault, he couldn’t bring himself to accept that you and his sister had to spend so many years without him. “I know you’ve told me multiple times that I shouldn’t say sorry, but I can’t help it. You’ve waited for so long.”

“And I’ll wait a million more if it meant I could be with you.” you cut him off, shifting slightly to make you face him completely. “You can go anywhere, anytime, for how long and I would wait for you to come back every single time. So please don’t feel guilty about it, love.” your hands holding the sides of his face as you start to pepper it with gentle kisses.

You smile at his peaceful expression, “My heart is in peace knowing that we’re written somewhere in the stars.” you say to him softly, squishing his cheeks in a playful manner, light laughter filling up the room.

Sam smiled, sealing the feather-like kisses with his lips on yours, capturing it for an intimate one that conveyed how much love he has for you, resting his forehead on yours right after. “You know that I love you, right Y/N?”

“I do and I love you so much more, Sam.”

---

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to those whose urls are in bold, i can't tag you for some reason. join my taglist! it's in my main main masterlist <3

#sam wilson #sam wilson x reader #sam wilson x y/n #sam wilson x you #sam wilson imagine #sam wilson imagines #sam wilson fic #sam wilson fics #sam wilson drabble #sam wilson drabbles #sam wilson fluff #mcu #marvel x reader

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omgrachwrites · 3 years

Text

Home With You - Joaquin Torres

Pairing: Joaquin Torres x Reader

Summary: When your boyfriend comes back from a long mission, you decide to spoil him and help him with his insecurities.

Warnings: fluff, tooth rotting fluff, so much fluff!!

Words: 1459

A/N: Basically this is me simping for Torres, I just love him so much and I really enjoy writing for him! Hope you guys enjoy this one and please let me know what you think, I love you all! xxx

The smell of your lemon scented disinfectant filled your small kitchen and you wrinkled your nose at the strong smell. Your boyfriend, Joaquin was coming home from a month long mission today and you did what you normally did when he was due to arrive back home. You gave the whole apartment a deep clean so you wouldn’t spend the whole day watching the clock, waiting for his arrival. Excitement and longing fizzed through your body as you stood back and admired your handiwork, smiling to yourself. Your cell phone started ringing, making you jump and you grinned when you saw the caller ID.

“Hey, handsome,” you smiled and your heart soared when you heard his deep chuckle, you had missed the sound of his laugh so much. His laugh was your favourite soundtrack.

“Hello, beautiful. God, I missed your voice,” you blushed at his words, you just wanted to see him and kiss him, “I’ve just got back to base, though traffic at rush hour is going to be a nightmare, so I’ll probably be home with you in an hour. Sam is going to give me a ride,” his voice was distorted by a long yawn and you coughed to cover up a giggle, “I love you, angel.”

Joaquin sounded exhausted, usually when he got home after a mission he would insist on taking you out for a drink, he’d always say, ‘why can’t I treat my baby girl? Are you gonna hold that against me?” he’d give you those great big puppy dog eyes and you’d know that you were done for. However, he sounded so tired and he’d just been away on a mission with Sam and Bucky, a mission that he’d been worried about. So tonight, you were going to spoil your Prince.

“I love you too, sweetheart, see you in an hour.”

When you’d both hung up, you got a bottle of champagne that you had reserved for his homecoming and you left it in a bucket of ice to make sure it was even more crisp and refreshing. You dug your special lavender candles out of the bathroom cabinet and you lit them in the bathroom when he messaged you to say that he was on his way up to the apartment.

As soon as Joaquin walked through the door, kitted out in full army gear with that lazy smile on his face, your heart fluttered. You couldn’t stop yourself from running into his arms, flinging your arms around his neck. Joaquin didn’t seem to mind as he chuckled and lifted you off the floor. In his arms, you felt like you were home again.

“I missed you so much!” you pulled back to look at his handsome face.

He smiled and cupped your cheek, pulling you in for a deep kiss that made your head spin, “I missed you more, you look beautiful by the way,” his eyes were so warm and soft and he made you feel like a million dollars, when in fact, you were merely in your sweats, “where would you like to go tonight?”

“We’re staying in, Torres,” you teased, tapping his nose.

“But I always take you out when I get back home,” he tilted his head, looking confused.

“Yes, but you’re exhausted, let me spoil you like you always spoil me.”

It was then that he let out a lopsided grin, that took your breath away, “have I told you that I love you today?”

You beamed, your eyes drinking in the beautiful sight before you as you dragged gentle fingers through his hair. He closed his eyes in contentment as he leaned into your touch, “you literally told me about an hour ago but I always love hearing it.”

He laughed as he pulled you in for a deep kiss, “I love you, Y/N,” he muttered against your lips before he set you down on the floor.

“I love you too,” you smiled, resting your hands on his chest, “let’s work on getting these clothes off you,” you grabbed the bottle of champagne.

Joaquin scoffed playfully, “God, I’ve barely been here ten minutes and you’re already trying to get me naked.”

“You know me too well baby,” you smirked, pressing a lingering kiss to his lips.

As you ran the bath – putting in some of your fancy bubble bath – Joaquin’s arms wouldn’t stray from your waist, “will you get in with me?” he asked in a shy voice.

You smiled as you turned in his arms and found him blushing, “of course darling,” you giggled.

As the bath filled up, Joaquin let you remove his uniform, shivering when you ran your hands over his skin. When he stood before you in his boxers, you poured him a glass of champagne, “how was the mission, Joaquin?” you asked, massaging his forearms.

Almost at once, his face fell, “I um don’t really want to talk about it right now, is that okay?” he asked biting his lip.

“Of course handsome,” you kissed his chest, wrapping your arms around his waist.

When the bath was full and Joaquin pushed his boxers off, you flushed and couldn’t look him in the eye, even though you had been together for a couple of years and you had seen him naked so many times. He chuckled and tucked a finger beneath your chin and he leaned down to kiss you. Joaquin helped you out of your clothes slowly, kissing the back of your neck.

“You’re so beautiful, Y/N,” he beamed when you flushed and he helped you into the hot bath, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you against his chest. You smiled as you pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek and curled your arms over his.

The both of you sat in the bath until it went cold, whispering sweet nothings to each other. When you got out, you wrapped the both of you in a fluffy towel. You and Joaquin were both grinning like lovesick fools.

Later on, after you had ordered the greasiest take-out food ever, you were snuggled up on the couch, watching shit TV. Joaquin’s head was leaning against your chest with his arms wrapped around your waist. You stroked his hair off his forehead and delved your fingers into his thick hair, massaging his scalp.

“Mm,” Joaquin moaned in bliss, “that feels so good angel,” you smiled at his words and kissed his forehead. He turned to jelly in your arms, he was completely relaxed, “I think that Sam thinks I’m an idiot,” he breathed against your skin in a small voice.

You raised your eyebrows as you pulled him closer, “why do you think that, baby?”

“The mission went wrong and I think Sam thinks it was my fault. Bucky certainly thinks that I’m an idiot.”

“Bucky thinks that everyone is an idiot,” you giggled, trying to lighten the mood but Joaquin didn’t seem to think that it was funny. You sighed as you cupped his cheeks and those endless brown eyes were sad as he looked at you, “if Sam thought you were an idiot he wouldn’t have asked you to go on the mission with him. Whatever happened wasn’t your fault, I promise you that.”

Joaquin smiled a little uncertainly as he kissed your cheek, “I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you too.”

The both of you decided to go to bed earlier than usual and your gorgeous boyfriend cheekily grinned at you from beneath the covers as he watched you get ready for bed, “thank you so much for tonight, beautiful, I really needed it.”

You glanced over your shoulder at him and grinned, “you’re welcome baby, you deserved to be spoilt.”

Joaquin smiled a little shyly as he fiddled with his fingers, “will you sleep naked with me tonight? No funny business, I just want to feel your skin against mine.”

Your heart melted at his request, who were you to deny him? Without a word you slipped off your sleepwear and his eyes raked over you with a loving look on his face. He held out his hand to you and you kissed his knuckles as you slipped beneath the covers with him. Joaquin’s skin was warm against yours as he pulled you into his arms, lightly trailing his fingers down your back. You kissed his chest, resting your hand on his stomach.

“I love you so much,” you grinned smiling up at your beautiful boyfriend; you have never been so in love before.

Joaquin smiled down at you as he kissed your forehead, “I love you too, Y/N and I always will,” you were so happy that he was safe and he was back home with you again. In his arms you were home again.

------------------------------

@smiithys @elayneblack @amelie-black

#joaquin torres #torres #joaquin torres one shot #joaquin torres imagine #joaquin torres fluff #joaquin torres fic #joaquin torres x reader #joaquin torres x reader insert #joaquin torres x you #joaquin torres x y/n #you x joaquin torres #torres x reader #torres x reader insert #torres x you #torres x y/n #you x torres #tfatws #The falcon and the winter soldier #marvel

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wizardofrozz · 2 years

Text

Lightning in a Bottle

Thor Odinson x Professor!Reader, Sam Wilson, Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers, Loki Laufeyson, Gamora, Rocket, Groot, Drax, Peter Quill, very brief Wanda Maximmoff

Word Count: 3,247

Warnings: grief (I think that’s it)

Part 3

1 year later

(Y/N) wiped the excess water off the counter as she finished the last of the dishes, letting out a heavy sigh. The relaxing melody of her favorite song floated through the kitchen as she plopped down at the island, pulling her laptop towards her in an attempt to grade a few more homework assignments. She got through grading one more project before she heard the snap of the lock flipping over, followed by the thump of footsteps that quickened her heart rate, a smile stretching across her face. She twisted in her chair just as Thor appeared in the doorway, shoving keys into his cargo pants pocket near his knee.

“Hello, darling,” Thor greeted, pressing into (Y/N)’s space. He rubbed a hand down her back, leaving behind a trail of warmth in his wake as he leaned down to press a kiss to her head, his lips lingering.

“What’s wrong, honey?” (Y/N) hummed, resting a hand against his stomach, leaning her head against his chest. “You seem…upset.” Thor let out a long sigh, resting his face against her hair and shifting to wrap his other arm around her shoulders, awkwardly hugging her. “Thor?”

“I have to go,” he whispered, his throat clicking as he swallowed.

“Go where?” (Y/N) asked, her voice muffled against his chest.

“Something happened off-world,” Thor continued, mindlessly carding through her hair.

“Oh,” she breathed, tilting her head, pressing her chin into Thor’s sternum, forcing him back a few inches. She always knew this was coming one day, but there was no way to prepare for it when it did. (Y/N) didn’t kid herself; she knew Thor was, for lack of a better word, extraterrestrial and a king in charge of the safety of millions of beings. Regardless, sadness settled around her heart, making her chest feel hollow, like a black hole opened behind her ribs.

“I’m sorry,” Thor croaked, squinting his eyes shut.

“No, no,” (Y/N) mumbled, brushing her fingers over the sharp line of his jaw. “I’m not angry with you; I was waiting for this to happen. Can you tell me about what’s going on?”

“The Black Order members from our timeline are rallying troops,” Thor sighed, his eyes still tightly closed. “After I ended Thanos, they were presumed dead, but it seems that that wasn’t the case. The Guardians requested help, and I’m one of the only ones capable of going.”

“I’m not surprised they aren’t giving up,” (Y/N) grumbled, rolling her eyes. Thor reached up, brushing a stray piece of hair behind her ear, finally opening his eyes to meet hers. (Y/N)’s heart clenched at the redness in the whites of his eyes, and tears immediately burned in her own eyes as she traced his face until her fingers twisted into the now short hair behind his ear.

“I wish I didn’t have to leave you,” Thor rasped, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed a few times.

“I know,” (Y/N) whispered, giving him a sad smile. “When do you have to leave?” Thor glanced over his shoulder at the digital clock on the stove, his shoulders pitching up with his inhale.

“Four hours or so.” (Y/N) slid off her chair, her hand trailing down Thor’s arm until her fingers fit into the spaces between his, and pulled him towards the hallway, earning a confused look from her boyfriend. Instead of explaining, she winked at Thor, who laughed and swept her up in a breathing kiss, kicking the door shut behind them.

The sound of the front door clicking shut was deafening in the silent apartment, echoing off the walls that usually housed joy and laughter. With no idea when Thor would be back, the mood in the apartment plummeted almost instantly, and (Y/N) ended up curling up on the couch, staring at the empty TV screen. She faintly recognized the vibrations of her phone rattling the glass of the coffee table, and it took a few tries to drag herself out of her blanket cocoon to grab it.

Hey, Sam greeted softly.

Hey, (Y/N)! Bucky yelled in the background.

“Hi, Sam. Tell Bucky I said hi too,” (Y/N) whispered, slumping back into the warmth of the couch.

I take it Thor left already, Sam sighed, his voice sounding a little staticky.

“Yeah.” (Y/N) tugged the blanket higher, tilting her head against the arm of the couch so she could rest her phone on her face and pull her arm back under the blankets.

If I can, I’ll update you when he checks in if you want, Sam offered.

“I’d like that,” (Y/N) whispered, squinting her eyes closed. The rest of the conversation with Sam was reasonably uneventful, aside from Bucky’s random exclamations, and (Y/N) ended the call with a promise to call them if she needed anything. She stayed bundled up on the couch until her need for food made her stomach cramp, forcing her off the couch. She decided she didn’t have the energy or willpower to cook, so she threw on a pair of sweatpants along with a hoodie to run out for takeout.

The closest thing to her apartment was a pizza place, meaning she was there and back in under 20 minutes. Only having one hand to try and maneuver her keys proved to be challenging, so with all her attention focused on her key ring, she nearly kicked the package sitting on her welcome mat. (Y/N) wrestled the door open, using her foot to slide the box over the threshold as she balanced the pizza box on one arm. After a few minutes of struggling, she finally dropped onto the couch with her pizza on the coffee table and the light package in her lap.

(Y/N) tried to remember what she could’ve ordered, but she was drawing a blank, and there was no shipping label or return address on the box, just her name printed on a label. She used her apartment key to break through the packing tape with shaky hands, gently folding back the box flaps to reveal another black box inside. She tossed the cardboard aside, cradling the sleek black box in one hand as she gently peeled the slip of paper off the front. The curve of her name brought tears to (Y/N)’s eyes as she recognized the handwriting immediately; she rested the box in her lap, unfolding the paper.

I went back and forth with how I wanted to give you this, which ultimately ended in me running out of time. Now that I backed myself into a corner, I find myself wishing I would’ve been there to give you this, but here we are.

I don’t know how long I’ll be gone, but I want you to know that you’re never alone. I’m sure if Sam, Bucky, or Steve haven’t called already, one of them will soon, but just because I’m away doesn’t mean I can’t still protect you. The amulet I’m giving you is a piece of my power and, in a sense, a piece of me. I have earned myself some powerful enemies in my lifetime, and I never want to put you at risk, but things don’t always go as I intend. If you ever find yourself in danger, an emergency, smash the amulet, and no matter where I am, I’ll find you. I will always come home to you.

Thor

(Y/N) pitched forward with a choked-off sob, clutching the note to her chest as tears dotted the carpet under her feet. The ache in her chest amplified as she felt her heart breaking; the painful reality that something could happen to Thor made her cry harder. (Y/N) sobbed under her throat was hoarse, and her sinuses felt like they might burst under the pressure, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t stop the steady stream of tears.

As she slowly started to regain her senses, the sting of something digging into her stomach pulled her attention back to the box that had accompanied the note still held to her chest. (Y/N) unfolded herself, carefully setting the message on the cushion next to her as she picked up the plain black box, examining it for any markings. Now that all of her attention was focused on the box itself, she noticed odd energy emanating from it, vibrating through her hands.

(Y/N) flinched back at the light pouring from under the lid, but she didn’t stop until the cover went back as far as it could. Nestled in a dark velvet-looking material sat a small flat, yet round, glass bottle that fit perfectly in her palm; now that the lid was open, the light that the bottle gave off wasn’t nearly as bright, but something seemed weird about it. (Y/N) picked up the amulet, holding it between two fingers, and marveled at the contents, feeling the energy bouncing around against the thin walls of the container.

Her brain did the equivalent of a record scratch as her eyes adjusted, and she noticed what appeared to be clouds billowing inside the bottle. Tiny bolts of lightning erupted from said clouds, ricocheting off the walls of the bottle, throwing light against the creases of (Y/N)’s hand.

“A storm in a bottle,” she whispered as the realization hit her.

6 months later

The New York sky was dark with clouds as snowflakes swirled through the air, slowly accumulating around the campus. (Y/N) trudged through the inch or so of snow that had already collected on the ground towards her office, tugging her coat closer. The campus reminded her of a ghost town since most students stayed in the confines of the warm buildings unless they had to leave, and she envied them as she hurried along.

About halfway through her journey to her office, (Y/N) felt eyes on her, and she looked around, only noticing a few scattered students hurrying between buildings. She suddenly felt the ever-present hum of her amulet against her collar bones, wondering if she might have to use it. She slipped an ice-cold hand under her scarf, running a finger over the leather cord as her eyes darted around the deserted walkways.

“Excuse me, dear,” a smooth accented voice called. (Y/N) spun around, eyes wide as she glanced around for the source of the voice; her gaze landed on a man standing a few feet away, and the first thing she noticed was how little he had on. His black peacoat was open to reveal an onyx suit, and the only color in his entire outfit was a bright green scarf hanging around his neck. Vibrant green eyes followed hers as she scanned his slim frame, noting the ebony curls that blew in the frigid breeze.

“C-can I help you?” (Y/N) asked, tightening her grip on the cord around her neck.

“No need to use that, little one,” the man laughed, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his coat. “I mean you no harm.” Inevitably, (Y/N)’s grip tightened anyway, his words only making her uneasy and making her want to use it even more.

“Who are you?”

“I thought you might recognize me,” he laughed, tilting his head with a mischievous grin. “I’m hurt that my dear brother never mentioned me.”

“No,” (Y/N) gasped, finally letting go of the leather cord, stumbling back a step. “Impossible. You’re….”

“Dead? Yes, so I’ve heard,” Loki laughed, his eyes lighting up. “I really wish people would stop underestimating me.”

“What do you want?” (Y/N) whispered, shuffling away from the God of Mischief.

“My Gods,” Loki sighed, rolling his eyes. “Nothing. Can’t a man introduce himself to the woman his brother is courting?”

“What,” (Y/N) blurted, narrowing her eyes.

“I’m not going to hurt you.” Loki rolled his eyes again, looking more annoyed by the second. “I only wanted to see what had my brother spending so much time here.”

“That’s it, really?”

“Really,” Loki replied flatly, raising a dark brow at her.

“Hold on, back up. How are you even alive? Thor watched Thanos….”

“I can’t reveal my secrets, darling,” Loki purred, winking at her. “Now, come, let’s get out of the cold.”

“It doesn’t even bother you, though,” (Y/N) noted, narrowing her eyes at him.

“Well, no,” Loki agreed, turning his back on her, “although it does bother you.” (Y/N) stood rooted in place as she watched Loki stroll down the path towards the coffee shop, only snapping into action when he called over his shoulder again.

6 months later

“Thor,” Gamora called, bracing her hands on the table in the middle of the ship. “Incoming call from Steve Rogers.” Thor sat staring into the thousands of colors zipping past as the ship tore through space, not even registering Gamora’s voice.

“Yo, big guy,” Rocket yelled. Thor finally snapped out of his trance when a can bounced off the side of his head, and he looked around frantically as his brain slowly reminded him where he was.

“Hm,” Thor rumbled, spinning his chair around to face Gamora and Rocket.

“Call from Steve,” Gamora sighed. Thor took a deep breath as he pushed himself to his feet, pausing to pull back half of his hair back before moving to Gamora’s side. She offered him a half-smile before wandering into the underbelly of the ship in search of Quill while Thor clicked on the flashing icon. Steve’s face appeared at eye level with Thor; his eyes cast down as he read something Thor couldn’t see.

“Hello, Steve,” Thor yawned, twisting at the waist, wincing when his back cracked.

“Hey, buddy,” Steve beamed, lifting his head to meet Thor’s eyes. “How’s it going out there?”

“It’s…” Thor trailed off, glancing around the screen at the little information they had been able to gather. “Not great.”

“Well, give me whatcha got,” Steve sighed, giving Thor a tight smile. It took barely five minutes to fill Steve in on the little bit of new information they gathered from Knowhere, and Thor couldn’t help the hopelessness hammering away at his heart.

“Better than nothing,” Sam cut in, bringing a slight smile to Thor’s face. His smile grew a little wider when the tiny outlines of Bucky and Wanda in the background, waving happily, appeared behind Sam and Steve, but it only lasted a few seconds. Thor forced air through his nose, leaning one hand on the table while he traced the patterns on the surface, keeping his eyes everted as he asked his next question.

“How is she?”

“She’s good,” Steve assured, his voice taking on a nervous edge. “We had a little bit of an issue….”

“What!” Every muscle in Thor’s body tensed, and his head snapped up, his eyes glowing a blinding blue with barely contained fury, sending Steve and Sam stumbling back despite the galaxies between them.

“Everything’s fine!” Sam assured, holding his hands up enough that Thor could see his fingers.

“What happened?” The light started to dim until Thor’s eyes were back to their usual sky-blue color.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea to breach that subject with you being lightyears away, but just know she’s perfectly fine. It was a false alarm,” Steve promised, giving Thor a small, pixilated smile.

“Okay,” Thor breathed, dropping his head again, a strand of hair falling from behind his ear.

“I’ve been trying to get her approved to come for a video call, but Ross isn’t too keen on it,” Sam grumbled, crossing his arms.

“I appreciate the effort,” Thor huffed, pushing off the table to stand at his full height again.

“Any messages you want us to pass on, buddy.”

“Just…tell her I miss her dearly,” Thor whispered, meeting the hologram of Steve’s eyes.

“Of course,” Steve whispered, the skin around his eyes creasing with sadness despite the smile on his face. “Well, stay safe, buddy. I’ll talk to ya in a week.” Steve waved briefly before Sam, Bucky, and Wanda crashed into his side, knocking Steve half out of frame as they yelled their own goodbyes.

“Goodbye, my friends,” Thor laughed, watching until their images disappeared, leaving him to stare at the front of the ship again. The blue glow of the ship’s lights threw shadows over his face, the faint whining of the engines floating through the stagnant air of the cabin, reminding him of his mission, and yet all Thor could think about was (Y/N).

“So, who’s the lady you were talking about?” Quill cuts in, startling Thor out of his head. Thor rolled his head to the side, glaring at the slightly shorter man at his side and the movement of the rest of Guardians filing back in behind Quill drew his attention to the spot over Quill’s shoulder.

“Quill,” Gamora scolded, smacking his arm, making him flinch away from her.

“What, like you don’t want to know,” Rocket snorted, jumping up on the table.

“I am Groot.”

“No! I don’t wanna know that kind of stuff! Jesus, who even told you about that,” Quill shouted, covering his ears. Groot pointed at Rocket, a pleased smile making his face creak slightly, and Rocket dropped his head, rubbing between his eyes. Thor watched the Guardians argue, a bored look smoothing out his face even though a small part of him was glad the conversation was steadily moving away from (Y/N).

“You feel deeply for her.” Thor jerked away from the unnaturally pale hand resting on his bicep, glaring down at Mantis’ giant black eyes. “You feel love. Love that is blanketed in guilt and grief.”

“Stop it,” Thor hissed, swatting at Mantis as she reached for him again. “Stop…feeling my feelings.”

“You long for her,” Mantis continued, completely ignoring Thor’s growing irritation.

“She gotta be pretty awesome to put up with you,” Quill laughed, nudging Rocket for approval. Thor’s jaw ticked as he aimed all of his rage at the side of Quill’s head, grinding his teeth together to keep from throttling the man he barely tolerated on a good day.

“Shut up, Quill, she could probably kick your ass,” Rocket scoffed, raising a furry brow at him.

“That is true,” Drax agreed, looking over at Thor. “You continue to gain weight.”

“Can we not discuss my weight anymore!” Quill snapped, shifting his glare around the table. Thor waited until the arguing was in full force to slowly back away from the table, glancing behind him to make sure he didn’t knock anything over in his hasty escape to the back of the ship.

“You’ll see her again.” Thor jumped again, spinning around to face Gamora, trying to hide the startled squawk that passed his lips. “And they’ll” -Gamora jerked her head towards where the others continued to argue- “forget about whoever she is in the next, hm, ten minutes.”

“She’s…” Thor trailed off, looking down at his feet.

“You don’t have to tell me,” Gamora whispered, resting her hand on Thor’s arm, smiling up at him. “Just know you’ll see her again.”

“Thank you,” he breathed, giving her a shaky smile. Gamora smacked his arm gentle before moving away again, joining the rest of the Guardians in their loud argument about who knows what at this point. Thor slumped back against the side of the ship, sliding down until he settled on the floor, resting his elbows on his bent knees. His fingers slid into his messy hair, tugging a few strands free as he stared down at the floor, fighting off the pain ripping the air from his lungs as they hurtled through space.

Part 4 | Masterlist

Taglist:

@itsafansworld07 @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @iamcavainna

#thor #thor odinson #thor x reader #thor odinson x reader #professor!reader #marvel #god of thunder #mcu #guardians of the galaxy #steve rogers #bucky barnes #sam wilson #wanda maximoff #loki layfeyson

31 notes · View notes

elliesguitarstrings · 3 years

Text

promises, promises || part one: what used to be

masterlist || series masterlist

tom holland x reader

summary: you're crying over someone you haven't seen in two years, tom is straight up depressed, your friends are trying to set you up, and sam is just trying his best to help

warnings: ANGST, language, mentions of sex, little bit of fluff, probably typos

A/N: PART ONE IS HERE!!!! i absolutely love this fic and i hope you guys love it as much as i do :)

p.s. this ended up being really long sooooo i decided to make it into a series instead lol if y'all haven't figured that out

wc: 5k

~~~~~~~~

"I got the part! Holy shit I actually got the part!" Tom throws his computer across the bed in disbelief, almost hitting you.

"Wait, like THE part? Like Spiderman?" you question excitedly.

"YES!!! Check the Marvel Instagram right now!" he crawls over to you as you whip out your phone and quickly search up the account. You scan the page to see a post captioned, "Click the link in our bio to see who the new Spider-Man is!" You quickly find the link and impatiently wait for the page to load. And then you see it, boldface print and giant letters across your phone.

The new Marvel Cinematic Universe Spider-Man will be played by: TOM HOLLAND

"HOLY SHIT TOM! You're fucking Spiderman!" you tackle him with a hug, squeezing him so tightly that he has to fight for breath. "I'm so proud of you, I knew you were gonna do big things." you smile brightly.

"We have to go tell everyone else, come on!" Tom pulls you off of him, dragging you out of his bedroom and down the stairs to give his family the big news.

The rest of the Hollands were already together in the family room, and they immediately took notice of yours and Tom's excitement as the two of you are bounding down the stairs.

Out of breath, Tom sprints to the center of the room. "Attention everyone, I have an extremely important announcement to make!" He pauses for dramatic effect, his family waiting in anticipation. "I'M GONNA BE SPIDERMAN!"

This causes an outburst of cheers and applause from his parents and brothers, each one of them getting up to hug Tom and congratulate him on this huge achievement.

Paddy pipes up, "How did you get the news? Did they call you or something?"

"Um, not exactly. They posted it on their Instagram and on the Marvel website as well, wanna see?" He turns to you, "Y/N, show them your phone!"

You pull out your phone and open the screen you were just looking at, showing the Hollands the Instagram post and article.

"No way, they're totally hacked." Harry remarks, earning disapproving looks from Nikki and Dom. "if you were really gonna be the next Spiderman, they would have called you."

Before Tom has the time to argue back, his phone rings, as if on cue. Tom pulls it out of his back pocket and nervously studies the number across the screen.

"Well, what are you waiting for div, answer it!" Sam chirps impatiently.

The rest of the room is silent while Tom listens intently to the person the other line. You can't make out what they are saying, but the eventual smile on Tom's face completely gives it away.

"Yes, thank you. Thank you so much for this opportunity," he holds while the other person talks again. "Yeah, I'll be in touch, definitely. Thank you again." Tom ends the call and lets out a sigh of relief. "That was fucking Kevin Feige! I got the part! I actually am gonna be the next Spiderman!"

You and the rest of his family cheered even louder than before, enveloping him in a giant group hug.

"I say we celebrate!" Nikki announces. "How about we go out for a nice dinner?"

Tom smiles, "If I'm honest mum, as nice as that would be, I'd rather just stay in and celebrate here tonight. I like your cooking better than any fancy restaurant anyways."

"Of course honey, I'll make your favorite. We can have a nice big family dinner, how does that sound?"

"Sounds perfect mum, thank you."

She dashes into the kitchen followed by Sam, the aspiring chef of the family, while Dom, Harry, and Paddy go to dress the table.

You take this as your cue to leave, seeing as you don't want to disrupt the rest of Tom's night with his family. "I guess I should get going then," you turn to Tom, hugging him once again. "Congratulations again, I'm so proud of you Tommy." you smile as you head to grab your things before you leave.

"Nonsense! You're staying for dinner too!" Tom stops you.

"Tom, I can't, you should spend this night celebrating with your family." you try to reason with him.

"But I want you here too!" he pouts.

"And you are family!" Nikki pipes in from the kitchen, earning nods of agreement from the rest of the family.

"See, everyone wants you here Y/N, please celebrate with us?" Tom cups your face.

"Are you sure? I really don't want to-"

Nikki cuts you off, piping in once again, "Y/N, I insist you stay for dinner with us. You've been a part of this family for so long, and you know that. So please stay and celebrate with us!" she smiles.

You giggle, "Well, I guess I can't say no to that." Tom smiles, giddily engulfing you in another hug.

After a long and delicious dinner, you and Tom now lay under the stars in the treehouse in his backyard. Dom had built it for you two when you were eight years old, and it's been your special place ever since then. Obviously, it has been upgraded and redecorated since then, now that you and Tom were both eighteen, but it still takes you back to the old days when you were just carefree little kids.

You cuddle into Tom's chest, looking up at the night sky through the small window in the roof of the treehouse. "I wish we could stay here forever," you whisper.

"Me too." Tom pulls you closer, kissing your forehead.

"Everything's gonna change you know. We're graduating in two weeks, and then you leave for America. I don't know what I'm gonna do without you." A small tear rolls down your cheek which doesn't go unnoticed by Tom.

He wipes the tear off your face with his thumb, cupping your chin to make you face him. "Hey, hey, look at me. Things might be changing, but that doesn't mean we have to. I'm only gonna be gone for a few months, and then I'll be back. I love you so much, and a few hundred miles is never going to change that. I will never let anything come between us, ever, okay?"

You smile softly, "You promise?"

"I promise darling. It's you and me forever. I'm never letting you go. Never in a million years." he kisses you lovingly, and you swear you could just live in this moment forever with him, and only him.

That was six years ago. And what Tom said was true, everything had changed. You just wish everything else he had said that night was true too.

Now, Tom is a world-famous actor, living a luxurious life out in Hollywood. You, however, have stayed in England, living only thirty minutes away from your childhood home with your newfound best friends Julia and Finn. You are no longer a part of Tom's life, and he is no longer a part of yours. But that doesn't mean you've forgotten about him.

How could you possibly forget about Tom? Your entire childhood was spent with him. From the ages of two to twenty-two, you were inseparable. To this day, you still remember when you first met, and you think about it often.

"I no wanna go! I stay home and watch princesses!" you cry, defiantly pulling away from your mother's firm grip as she tries to stuff you into shoes that are much too small for your rapidly growing feet.

"I know honey, but we have to go welcome the new neighbors who just moved in across the street. We made them brownies, remember?" she smiles.

You scrunch your face up, " No! I stay home!"

Your dad chimes in, kneeling down to your level. "Listen peanut. How about we make a deal. You come with us and say hello to the new neighbors, and then after we get home you can watch any princess movie you want and maybe even have some ice cream, how does that sound?"

You smile, "Ice cream with rainbow sprinkles?"

He rubs your head, "With rainbow sprinkles."

"Okay. I go then."

Your parents smile, and you hold their hands as you walk across the street to meet the neighbors. Your mom rings the doorbell, and the door opens to reveal a red-headed woman, smiling at you and your parents. Hiding behind her is a small, curly-headed brunette boy about the same height as you.

Your mom introduces herself, "Hi! My name is Y/M/N, this is my husband Y/D/N, and this is my daughter Y/N. We live right across the street, and we just wanted to welcome you into the neighborhood." She outstretches her arms, holding the brownies, "I made these for you as well, I hope you like them!"

The woman smiles, "Oh, wow, thank you so much, you are so sweet! Would you like to come in for a bit?"

"Of course, as long as you'll have us."

She ushers the three of you in and you stay close to your mom, still wary of entering a stranger's home.

As she closes the door behind her, she introduces herself as well, "Sorry, the house is a little messy, we’re still getting settled in. But I'm Nikki, my husband Dominic is unpacking in the kitchen, and this is Tom." She motions to the boy behind her, "Tom, say hello to the nice people!"

He timidly steps forward, waving at you and your parents. "Hello." he says quietly.

"Oh my, he is adorable!" your mom gushes. She walks over to him, "How old are you Tom?"

He holds up two fingers, "This many."

She smiles, "Two years old? Wow, you're so big! Guess what, you know who else is that many?" Tom shakes his head no. "My daughter Y/N!" She motions for you to come, and you shyly walk forward.

You wave at him, and that makes him smile. Nikki taps Tom on the shoulder, "Do you maybe want to show Y/N your toys upstairs?

He nods his head, smiling at you, "Wanna go play?" he asks.

You smile back, looking at your mom for permission. She nods her head and pushes you forward. "Okay, we go." you respond. He takes your hand and pulls you upstairs, seemingly coming out of his shell. You don't know what it is about this boy, but he makes you feel warm, like a hug. It's something your two-year-old brain can't quite comprehend, but suddenly you couldn't care less about watching princess movies or eating ice cream.

Sometimes you wish that day had never happened, that you had never met him. You wish your little two-year-old self had fought harder against your parents so that you wouldn’t have to endure the years of pain he would cause you later in life. But you can’t go back, and in part, you’re glad about that. He was your first friend, your first crush, and your first love. But he was also your first heartbreak, and that’s something you can never forget.

You're snapped out of your thoughts by a sharp knock on your bedroom door. "Hey, are you almost ready? We have to leave in ten or we'll be late!" you hear Julia's muffled voice from the other side of the door. Finn is hosting a gala tonight for his art studio, and being his best friends and roommates, you and Julia are basically required to go.

"Uh, yeah, I'm about done, I'll be out in a minute!" You haven't even started getting ready, but you don't have any more time. You quickly raid your closet and find a short v-neck black dress and matching heels. You wiggle into the dress as you make your way into the bathroom. You had planned on straightening your hair, but you have no time, so instead, you brush it back into a sleek low ponytail and spray it with a bit of hairspray. There's no time for the elaborate makeup look you had planned either, so you quickly throw on some concealer, blush, mascara, eyeliner, a bit of highlight, and you're set. As you walk to the door, you grab your purse and slip on your heels, making sure you have your phone and keys. Finn and Julia are already waiting in the car, both with disapproving looks.

"What the fuck took you so long? We were supposed to leave five minutes ago! You know I can't be late for this thing." Finn complains as you slip into the backseat.

"Sorry, I, uhm, don't feel well. A little nauseous." you lie. You don't feel like telling them that you were actually crying about someone you haven't seen or talked to in two and a half years like you do every other night.

"You're not pregnant are you?" Julia chuckles.

"Oh please, we all know that Y/N hasn't gotten any since he who must not be named." Finn replies for you.

"Thanks Finn, what a great friend." you joke sarcastically.

He's not wrong though. Since you and Tom broke up, you haven’t slept with a single person. You’ve been on a few dates and kissed a few guys, but nothing past that. The closest you got was about a month after Tom broke it off with you. You were looking for someone to take your mind off of him, so you found a random guy named David at a pub and took him back to your place. But as soon as he took off his shirt, you saw a birthmark on his back that looked eerily similar to Tom’s, and you promptly broke down crying.

No matter what you do, you just can’t seem to get him off your mind.

"Alright bitches, we're here." Finn sighs. "Help me bring my stuff in, we don't have much time thanks to someone who took ages to get ready."

You give a halfhearted apology as you grab Finn's paintings from the back of his car. Julia stops you before you follow Finn into the venue, "Babe, are you sure you're doing alright?"

You smile lightly, "Yeah, I'm fine. I'll be fine."

"Okay, if you say so. And sorry about Finn mentioning... him. It's been two years, he should know better."

"Oh, no. No, don't worry about that. It's okay. I don't care." you lie.

She gives you an encouraging nudge on the shoulder, "Hey, who knows, maybe you'll find a hottie here tonight and finally get back out there! What do you think, huh?"

"Yeah, that would be great, actually. Maybe Finn can introduce me to his friend James, I know he's pretty hot." you say just to get her off your back. You know for a fact that you won't be going home with anyone tonight, but you want to ease her conscience, so you continue to lie.

"That's the spirit! Good luck hun, love you."

"Thanks Jules, love you too." you smile.

Halfway through the gala, you already want to go home. Finn is over at the bar flirting with some guy, probably trying to get him to buy his artwork. Meanwhile, Julia has disappeared into the bathroom with her boyfriend Ollie, who she invited about thirty minutes into the event because she "got bored."

You look at your phone and realize it's already midnight, and you know the event won't be ending anytime soon. You slowly make your way over to Finn through the sea of people and tap him on the shoulder, drawing his attention away from whatever guy he's flirting with.

"Hey Y/N, how's it going with James?" he asks excitedly.

"Oh, um, it didn't work out, thanks for introducing me though. I just wanted to come tell you that I'm still not feeling well, so I think I'm gonna head home, sorry."

"Oh, okay, no problem. You're probably gonna be alone tonight though, just a heads up. Jules is going back to Ollie's for the night, and" he starts to whisper, "I think I might be going home with this hunk."

You laugh, "Okay, thanks Finn, see you tomorrow then."

"Bye babe. Do you have a ride?" he questions.

"Uh, no, I'm just gonna Uber home, it's no problem."

Finn gasps, "Not this late at night you're not! Let me drive you, hottie with a body over here can wait."

"No, no, don't let me ruin your night. I'll just call Sam then."

His eyes widen, "Like... his brother Sam?"

"Yeah, we're friends still, it's not a big deal. Trust me."

"Okay, fine. But text me when you get home, okay?"

"Okay, love you Finn, see you later." you give him a quick hug and walk outside to call Sam.

You aren't lying, you and Sam are still good friends. Back when you and Tom were together, Sam was the brother that you were closest to, and you felt that it would be unfair to cut ties with the rest of the Hollands just because Tom was a dick to you seeing as they were as much of a family to you as your own parents were, maybe even more. He was attending culinary school in the area anyway, so you decide he’s the best person to call.

As expected, he's happy to drive you home, and about ten minutes later he arrives at the venue where you are still standing outside.

"Hey Sam, I'm sorry for calling this late, but thank you so much for picking me up." you smile as you slide into the passenger seat.

"It's no problem, I wasn't going to sleep anytime soon. How've you been?"

"Fine, I guess. How about you?"

"C'mon, I know that look. Something's up with you." he pries.

"I told you on the phone, I'm just not feeling well." you lie, hoping he doesn't catch on.

"It's Tom isn't it?"

"How the fuck do you always know?"

He chuckles. "He is my brother, remember? And you're basically my sister too. I've known you both for literally my entire life, so trust me, I know when it's about him."

You sign in defeat, "I don't know why I can't get over him Sam. It's been nearly three years since we broke up, and I haven't seen him since. My roommates think I'm overreacting, and honestly, I'm starting to agree with them. I should be moved on by now, but I just can't stop thinking about him."

"Hey, hey, don't listen to them, you aren't overreacting. You and Tom were literally attached at the hip for twenty two years, and you weren't even dating for most of them. It's completely normal for you to feel like this, trust me. And I know it doesn't help much for me to say this because I've said it a million times before, but Tom's a complete dick for what he did to you. He's my brother, and I love him, but he's a dick."

"Thanks Sam. I just wish I knew why, y'know? Why, after twenty-two fucking years, he just completely cut me out of his life." you feel your eyes brimming with tears.

"I wish I could have an answer for you Y/N, I really do. But I haven't got a clue. Hell, I honestly don't even know if Tom knows why he did it."

You sigh, "Well, he must have had a reason. Plus, he seems to be doing great in Hollywood. He seems perfectly happy without me."

"You've been stalking him on Instagram, haven't you?" Sam chuckles.

You laugh, "Shut up." That's the great thing about Sam. He can always lighten up a situation, no matter how serious or how sad. Tom did the same thing, that was one of the things you liked most about him.

You and Sam sit in silence for a few minutes, until he finally breaks it. "He's not, you know."

"Huh?" you question, confused.

"He's not happy. You said he seems happy without you, but he's not. He's doing terribly, and it's not just from stress or his work. He won't admit it, but he misses you." he pauses, "I know I shouldn't be telling you this, but he asked about you the other day. About how you were doing and shit like that. I think he would take it back if he could."

You want so badly to believe him, belief that Tom actually still cares about you after all this time. But false hope is the last thing you need right now.

"Well, he can't, can he?" you say sharply, tears still threatening to flow out.

You and Sam sit in silence for the last five minutes of the ride back to your apartment. As he slows the car to a stop, Sam looks over at you sympathetically, "Look, I'm sorry if what I said made things worse. I just wanted you to know that your feelings aren't... one-sided I guess."

You know better than to yell at Sam, he was just trying to make you feel better, so instead of spitting out the sarcastic remark that was on your tongue, you manage out a half-hearted, "It's okay, thanks Sam." and shut the car door.

As soon as the door of your apartment closes behind you, all of the emotions come crashing down on you. A mixture of sadness, anger, guilt, and regret crushed your heart, smashing it into a million little pieces. It feels like two and a half years ago, when he first broke up with you, all over again. Everything was fine until Sam brought him up again, and the memories just all flooded back in. You fall to the floor, clutching your chest in pain, wishing someone was here for you. Wishing he was here for you. At the moment, it feels like you have no one. In reality, you do; you have an entire support system of people who love you so much and would do anything to protect you. But you only want him. You need him. He is the only person you have ever wanted, ever needed, and he's gone.

You want to hate him, you really do. He's caused you more pain in the past two and a half years than anyone or anything has ever caused you in your entire life. But you can't. You can never, and will never, hate him. Which makes you hate yourself.

After what feels like hours of crying, you finally calm down. There's no one at home to talk to and it's too late to call anyone at this point, so you flip on the tv. There's nothing good on Netflix or Hulu that you haven't seen yet, so you scroll through the other apps. You remember that you just got a free Apple TV subscription with your new phone, so you check to see what's on there.

And there it is. Cherry.

His face right on the screen in front of you, lighting your dark bedroom red. You know it's a bad idea and you know you'll regret it, but something draws you to watch it. You need him right now, and this is about the closest you're going to get.

It's fine at first. It's actually nice to see his face again after so long. He looks basically the same as the last time you saw him, just a little more mature. You feel good supporting him, even if he doesn't know it.

But then it's not fine. His character had just gotten into a fight with his girlfriend, so she comes to visit him in his apartment. They talk, and eventually he reveals that he joined the army and has to go away for two years.

"It's just a couple years. Just a couple years and a lifetime together." he whispers.

Then it all hits you, and you break down crying once again. You can't help but think back to that night in the treehouse, and how the conversation is so eerily similar. You wonder if Tom was thinking about it too, while he was filming the scene. Obviously, the circumstances were different, but it still makes you wonder.

You quickly shut the TV off, unable to bear it anymore. With nothing else to do, you try to sleep, but your thoughts keep you up. And as much as you try to fight it, your mind drifts back to the day you so badly want to forget. The day that it all ended.

"Hey, Tommy, what's up? I'm excited to see you tonight!" you pick up the phone. Tom is supposed to come back to London after filming his first solo Spiderman movie, and you could not be more excited to see him. It's been almost a full year since he left for America, and you miss him so much.

"Yea, uhm, about that. Plans have, er, changed a bit." you can hear the solemn tone in his voice.

"Oh no, what happened? Did your flight get delayed or something? I know there's some rough weather in Atlanta, but I didn't realize it was that bad."

"No, no, it's not that. I don't really know how to say this," he sighs, "I'm not coming home."

Your heart drops to your stomach. "What?"

"Yeah. I'm, um, I'm staying in America for now. I found a house in LA, it's nice."

"Well when are you coming back then?" you utter in disbelief.

"Not anytime soon. I have work, so it's just easier for me to be in America. I'm sorry." his tone is stiff.

"But what about us? I miss you so much, these past few months have already been hell for me. I don't think I can survive much longer without seeing you."

No response.

"Tom, are you still there? You know I can't move in with you. I'm already enrolled in university here in London, I can't drop everything and come to America if that's what you want."

"That's not what I want." At this point he seems to have no emotion in his voice, as if he's reading directly from a script.

"So then what do you want?" you start to really worry, tears already stinging your eyes.

"I think you can probably figure that out by now, Y/N."

"Tom, no. You seriously can't be thinking-"

"Yeah, I am thinking that. You've already said that these past few months have been hell, and I'm too busy with work, so I think that's the only option."

You plead with him, "Tom, please! We can figure this out, I love you so much. We can't break up Tom, I can't lose you." You're sobbing at this point, scared to lose the one person you need the most.

"No, we can't figure this out. We have to break up, there's no other choice."

"What happened to you and me forever? That- that night in the treehouse you said you wouldn't let anything come between us!"

"We were kids, Y/N! We had no idea what our lives were going to turn out like. That was a stupid thing to say and I never should have said it, okay? You can't keep every promise you make, especially when you're eighteen. But we're mature adults now, and the mature way to handle this is to break up. Understand?" His voice is booming through your phone speaker, and it's nothing you've ever heard come from him before. He was always calm, looking for a way to work things out. But now, he's completely giving up.

"Tom, please, I-"

"No, Y/N, I don't have time for this right now, I'm sorry. Goodbye."

He hung up. He's gone.

That was the last time you spoke to him. You didn't even get to properly say goodbye, let alone see his face before he was gone forever.

Unbeknownst to you, that phone call is still, to this day, Tom's biggest regret. Almost immediately after he hung up, he wished he had never called you in the first place. He was stressed from work, he was angry at his management team for making him stay in America, but most of all he missed you. So he did the only thing he could think of to take it all away - separate himself from you. He thought that if he broke up with you, he would feel better about his career choices and he wouldn’t have to wwc:orry about missing you anymore because it would be over.

He was wrong.

Every day since then, he’s wanted to call you, text, you, or somehow contact you to apologize; explain why he did what he did and how he still loves you, still needs you, still misses you every second of his life. But he knows he can’t. You would never be able to forgive him for breaking it all off so suddenly. There’s no way in hell you could still love him after something like that.

So he’s stayed out of reach from you for good. And he hopes that maybe one day he’ll be able to move on, find someone new like you’ve probably done by now. But deep down he knows he never will.

You’re still unable to sleep, and now that it’s almost four in the morning, you decide that you probably won’t be able to for the rest of the night. Not knowing what else’s to do, you begrudgingly roll out of bed and go to the kitchen to make a cup of tea. As you fill up your mug with warm water, you hear a knock at the door.

Who the fuck would be coming to your apartment this early? You suspect it’s Finn, as he always manages to forget his key. Maybe his night with the mystery bar hunk didn’t go as well as he had planned. You quickly set a tea bag in your mug and walk to open the door.

“Back so soon Fi... what the fuck.” your heart drops to your stomach.

It’s him. The same brown-haired, brown-eyed, British boy that you remember, staring down at you from outside your apartment at four in the morning.

“Hey.”

~~~~~~~~

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#tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland fluff #tom holland smut #tom holland angst #tom holland fanfic #tom holland fic #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland series #peter parker #peter parker fluff #peter parker x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x fem!reader #soph writes #promises promises

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mcufox123 · 3 years

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Table 5 (Chapter 5)

Summary: It’s your first night not working by the stove, you were very nervous. What happen’s when a group of well known people show up to your restaurant? And what is going through Wanda’s head?

Warnings: None I don't think?

A/N: So I tried to write Wanda’s POV this chapter so there is a POV shift. It’s not my favorite chapter for sure but oh well! Hope you all enjoy! Be prepared for the next chapters!

Chapter1 Chapter2 Chapter3 Chapter 4 Chapter6

Wanda’s POV Wanda got back to the compound at around 11 and she hoped nobody was in the kitchen. Wanda was disappointed when she walked in to see Tony and Sam, however. The two people who she did not want to be there.

“Look who finally came home! Good morning witchypoo how was your night?” Tony said with a smirk on his face.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” Wanda continued to walk to your room to get ready for training. She put y/n’s clothes on the bed before changing into her training gear. She left to meet Natasha and Steve and the rest of the crew.

They ran through what she would be doing and paired her up with Natasha for hand-to-hand training. She tried to stay focus but kept imagining y/n face and how she was excited to see her again. Natasha slammed her on the mat for the 7th time in a row.

“Are you good Wanda?” she asks concern clearly written on her face.

“Yeah, I’m good. Let’s go again.” Wanda said out of breath.

“I just beat you numerous times and you aren’t going to try and get better?” Natasha questioned walking off the mat and untaping her hands. Whenever Wanda usually got beat down the next time, she would come back with a vengeance that made her opponent regret taking her down in the first place.

“I’m just out of it today I guess.” Wanda shrugged while grabbing her water.

“Does it have to do with you not coming home last night?” a mischievous grin appeared on Natasha as she teased the young woman in front of her.

“It has everything to do with why I didn’t come home last night.” Wanda had a small smile playing on her lips as well as she pictured your face. She wasn’t afraid to hide you from her best friend.

“Oh, is this thing an it or is it a he?” she asked wiggling her eyebrows.

“Yeah, sure I’ll go with that.” Wanda said sitting on the bench. She didn’t know why but she was nervous to tell her teammate about her new discovery about herself.

“Ok, ok. Now I am going to get all serious with you but remember it’s for your own good.” Natasha said staring the young girl in her eyes to make sure Wanda knew that. “Do they know how intense your job is? Long hours? Life or death situations? The possibility of going to other worlds?”

“Yes, she knows I’m an Avenger and all of the things that go along with that.” Wanda talked about Y/N. In truth they barely brushed upon the topic. Being with Y/N was so calming and it took Wanda out of the superhero world. It made Wanda feel normal. So, the topic was never brought up.

“Oh, she is a she?” Natasha was shocked.

“Yes, she is a she.” Wanda repeated.

“That’s amazing Wanda I’m so happy for you! And I’m so happy she is understanding! Do I know her? What’s her name? Can I meet her?” Natasha continued with the questions. Wanda breathed a sigh of relief at how her friend was truly excited for her.

“Her name is y/n. You have probably heard of her, but I’m not telling you how I’ll let her tell you. She gets very excited about her line of work. And you can she is coming to movie night Wednesday night.” Wanda informed Nat who squealed with excitement.

Training went on better after she told Nat about y/n. She was able to focus more on her technique. After training and showering Wanda went to the kitchen to see what the plans were for dinner only to run into Steve and Vision.

“Hey Steve! Hey Vis! What’s for dinner? Am I cooking or are we ordering out?” Wanda asked her friends.

“Hello Wanda. I was actually just telling Steve about that restaurant we went to. Where the kitchens are on the floor. What was it called again?” He asked and Wanda froze because she knew he was talking about Contento.

“Hmm I have no idea Vision.” She said trying to cover up and think of a different restaurant.

“You know the one I proposed to you at? I had the steak, and you had the fish. The Chef walked it to our table.” Vision continued. It wasn’t weird for them to talk about that night. The team teased them about it all the time now that things have cooled off.

“Oh, right that restaurant Contento? I think they are super booked all the time though.” Wanda said hoping to sway them in a different direction.

“Nonsense I’m sure Stark can work his magic and get us a table I’ll send him a text right now.” Steve said as he sent the text and Wanda’s stomach dropped.

“Perfect he got us a table for tonight at 7.” Steve said as he looked at both Wanda and Vis.

“Perfect!” Wanda forced a smile on her face. “It’s 5:00 now I should go get ready.”

As she ran to her room Wanda sent y/n a text to give a warning but knew that it would be of no use as the restaurant had already opened.

As she got ready a million thoughts ran through Wanda’s head. She had to have the whole superhero talk with you as soon as she could. She didn’t want to hurt you in any way and wanted to be as honest with you as she could.

Wanda picked out an outfit that would be sure to shock you and did her makeup before meeting the team to go to Contento.

When Wanda arrived at the restaurant her eyes immediately went to the kitchen counter to where you both had spent countless nights cooking. She was shocked however to see you in the wrong spot. You were at the counter instead of cooking by the stove like you should’ve been. She followed the team to a big table set up for them.

Y/N POV You were on the other side of the table making dishes look presentable, lining them up with their tickets, and helping servers run their food. All of the years watching Bill you thought he had the easy job but boy were you wrong. You were just getting ready to run a porkchop and a salmon to a table when your eyes met with a pair of all too familiar green ones.

She looked beautiful in a maroon dress. She took your breath away. The way it hugged her body, and she wore her hair down almost as beautiful as the first time she laid eyes on you. She gave a small smile before walking to her table and that is when you noticed the rest of the avengers were also eating at your restaurant.

“Hey Bill, all of the Avengers are here.” You say over the counter, and he just looks up and swallows. He was nervous you could tell.

“Alright we will finish the orders we have up there now before we get their order.” Bill ordered the team behind the counter. You were proud of your best friend taking over his new job seriously.

“I am going to go greet them.” You say as Bill just nods and continues to work. You make your way over to their large table standing right across from Wanda.

“Good evening everyone! My name is Chef Y/N and welcome to Contento. I hope you all have a wonderful evening and if you need anything I will be right over at that counter.” You say trying to look at everyone, but your eyes kept falling on the beautiful girl in front of you once again. You ended by pointing to the spot you have been working all night.

You felt her eyes burn into your back as you made your way back across the restaurant. Once back at the counter you fix up the plates that were waiting for you and run them.

About 5 minutes later you have a lull before the Avengers put their order in and you look across to see not one girl but two girls now staring at you from the Avengers’ table. The first with a look of curiosity and the second was trying to assess your every move. The latter gets up and decides to walk over to the counter where you were working.

“Chef Y/N let me just say it is so nice to meet you! I have heard so much about you.” Black Widow walks closer to you, and you start to feel nervous. You have never interacted with an Avenger outside of Wanda and Vision.

“Black Widow, nice to meet you as well! Thank you so much for choosing to eat here tonight. It is such an honor to have you all here.” You say glancing around the restaurant to find your girlfriend having a conversation with Sam but also glancing at you every few minutes.

“Please call me Natasha. Chef Y/N, can I ask you a question? Why do you keep glancing at our table and why are you so nervous talking to me?” she asks with a smile still on her lips.

“I'm just so happy you guys are here! I can’t believe earth's mightiest heroes decided to eat at my restaurant.” you say avoiding eye contact. She is still trying to read you though.

“I know who you are. I know you are close with her,” she says nodding her head back to the table where Wanda is sitting. “Let me just tell you that I have not seen her this happy since her brother passed. Take care of her. But also keep an eye out for yourself. Our job takes a toll on us and the people we are close with. If you can’t handle that, get out now.” You stare at her in shock, your mouth goes dry, and you just nod your head slowly forgetting how to speak.

“Can’t wait for movie night Wednesday! See you then.” She finishes before walking away. You digest her words for a moment before Bill is leaning across the counter snapping in your face.

“You ok in there? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” He says plating the salmon dish.

“I’m dating the Scarlet Witch and I’m terrified.” You say honestly. He freezes for a minute as he looks out at the long table then back at you.

“That’s ok we can talk about it after work. I’m here for you but right now we have to get these orders out.” Two more dishes are put on your counter. In that moment you were grateful for Bill keeping you on task, but you were still thinking about the words the scary woman said to you.

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