#however. i did NOT appreciate it i am Scared xo

[ilostyou]

wait can we go back we need to discuss i haven't seen people discussing. i know it's 911 and sometimes they just like being silly goofy but also. chimney asking maddie why they call him chimney isn't really silly haha it's. uh oh possible longer lasting amnesia or other brain issues? uh oh?

[justkending]

Found Memories. Chapter 2.

Finding Memories Sequel: (I advise you to read the 1st series for context).

Series Summary: Following the aftermath of Finding Memories, Bucky tries to complete goals he feels she would have discovered for herself as a way to let her memory live on. However, he never expected to find someone very close to who he believed she would have been if given the chance of normalcy. A journey of mourning someone he lost turned into a journey of discovering someone new happens upon the soldier. Maybe this whole normal thing isn’t as bad as he had pictured it in his mind. Maybe he had a better shot at it than he ever tried to imagine.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x (Teacher) Reader 

Word Count: 4700+

Playlist Song: Magdalene by: The 502's

A/N: I know I said I wouldn't post another chapter until I finish writing the entire series, but I checked the follower count for the first time in a while and realized we passed 3000 followers recently!!! So I'm posting this in celebration of the 3155 people that have been kind enough to follow my writing journey and interact with stories that I put a lot of my time and effort into :) I can not explain how thankful I am for each and every one of your support!! XO

Chapter Notes: This chapter is written from the perspective of the reader. Each chapter will (for the most part) switch back and forth from Bucky and Y/N Clark's 1st person. I've read some books recently that did it in this format, and it was fun to read that way and see all points of view ;) Plus, I thought it was only fair that we saw Y/N's perspective from the last chapter, and you can get an idea of the character she will play. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it because this REALLY IS THE LAST chapter I'm posting until the series is complete. As always, please feel free to comment, even if just emojis or a few words. They all mean the world to a writer!!

Chapter 2:

I hadn't planned on going to the compound anytime soon, but Tony Stark had proved to be a sneaky man when it came to getting his way. 

When I saw Morgan Stark on my enrollment sheet, my principal made a special visit to my room during the last week of summer when we reported before the kids. I was nervous about the kind of parent relationship that was to come after how serious she made the endeavor.

My principal, who is also one of the reasons I'm not staying at this school for another year, made it a big deal and practically scared me shitless that if anything was not to Mr. Stark's liking when it came to his daughter's education, it was on me to fix or else I'd be screwed.

It was a lot of pressure, considering this was a man who had saved humanity more than once and was likely to continue to rack up that number. 

But the pressure was quickly taken away when he showed up to meet the teacher, and he and his wife, Pepper, were nothing short of kind and supportive parents every teacher hopes to work alongside of. 

Now was he a little forward and slightly egotistical? Yes. But I was prepared, considering his reputation. Pepper balanced him perfectly and quickly put him in his place if he started getting a little too brash. 

And it was quickly shown during any minor and major holiday that they were big-time gift-givers and loved to shower those that worked with them with random treats and thoughtful, yet overpriced, 'appreciations' as they called them.

I remember getting a card during Thanksgiving break that seemed simple and like any other card a parent sends as a thank you, but inside was a gift certificate for a spa day. 

And no, not just a mani and pedi or a massage. It was an entire spa day treatment including; mudbaths, facials, full body massage, hot rock therapy, mani-pedi, acupuncture, and a list of other things I had never even heard of or knew as options. They had already paid for and scheduled it for me, and they had handed it to me like a Mcdonald's gift card. 

I didn't feel right taking something like that from a parent even if I knew they were billionaires and it was equivalent to a Mcdonald's gift card to them. So I attempted to give it back and handed it back to Happy, who usually picked up Morgan and told him it was a kind offer, but I couldn't accept it. 

The next day I had a bouquet of flowers waiting for me in the front office and a card that said;

"Sorry for leaving Tony in charge of your holiday gift. He doesn't realize how intense he gets in that department… But please do treat yourself to a spa day! I changed the package so that you and your sister can enjoy it together, and it's not nearly as overwhelming as the things he added to it. We appreciate all you do for our family. You deserve the pampering!"

It was a sweet gesture, and it felt rude to not take it after they had sent it back to me. I asked my assistant principal about it, who had Tony as a parent for the last 5 years, and she also said to take it. I wasn't used to the private school demographic as much, and she assured me that though it was nicer than what most parents gift, she's seen him gift more outrageous things that Pepper had to fix in the past. 

"I had to talk him down from donating a hot air balloon ride for our field day last year. A spa gift certificate is nothing compared to what I've seen that man do…" she had said. 

So though it still felt weird, I took advantage of it and took my younger sister to the spa, and we enjoyed the massages, mani-pedi, and facials we were kindly given.

All that to say, I've learned this semester that Tony was an ornery man. He reminded me of my father when it came to how he joked in conversations and how blunt he could be about his thoughts and ideas. 

I had thrown something back to him during our first parent-teacher conference by the complete mistake of not filtering my thoughts. And when I thought I was going to get fired, he let out a loud laugh and told Pepper, "Finally, someone who can dish it back and not get butt hurt," he had laughed with a giant grin. 

I apologized quickly and rambled about how he has remarks like my dad, and it was just a reflex to say what I countered with, and Pepper laughed too. 

"It's ok, Ms. Clark. Tony needs the sass to keep him in line as often as possible."

"Yeah, it gets boring when people walk on eggshells around you. Where's the fun in etiquette?" 

That got a quick eye-roll from his wife and a slap to the arm, which he laughed at, and we continued our meeting.

Since then, I have kept a professional demeanor around him, but I also don't hold back when he needs a quick sarcastic remark to put him in his place. 

Now his sliding a resume into Morgan's homework folder was also on the list of things I was not expecting. Right next to the custom-made Stark iPad he gifted me for Labor Day. (Which who gives gifts for Labor Day?)

The resume was an offer to be a personal tutor for Morgan once she got to middle school. She was in 5th grade right now, and she was a bright girl. I don't know why he was worried about her having the extra help, but nonetheless, he offered me a job to be her full-time one-on-one tutor for next year. 

He was willing to pay me enough that I wouldn't need a second job as a teacher. I would solely be Morgan's tutor, and the benefits and pay would be enough for me to work little hours for a salary that a top surgeon in New York would make. 

A part of me struggled with the offer. I knew money-wise it would take care of everything I struggled with; rent, medical bills, helping my sister through college, and the list went on. 

I should have jumped at this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to work under one of the wealthiest and most admired men alive, but my heart could never accept something like that merely because it was such an outrageous opportunity to fall in my lap. 

I kept saying in the back of my head that I hadn't joined this career for the money. It was never about the money.

The only reason I took a private school job this last year (which a friend was kind enough to get my foot in the door for) was that money was tight, and I needed the slight boost that public school funding couldn't give me. But I wasn't giving up teaching; I was just moving to a different group of kids to teach. A lot more privileged and supported demographic, but I was still influencing kids' lives.

Though after the last few months, I realized it wasn't a fit for me. As much as I wanted to make it be that and push my morals aside to continue so I could keep paying for things without going into debt, deep down, it wasn't what I signed up for. 

I was meant to help the underprivileged and poverty-level kids. I was that kid that grew up with one parent working more than one minimum-wage job to make ends meet and the other being underpaid as a school teacher themselves for most of my life. The educators who aided and encouraged me to be where I am now made me passionate about the same efforts. 

With all that to be said, I was moving back to the public school in New York after this year, and Tony had found out. 

It wasn't that I didn't care for the kids at this school. I loved them. My group of 5th graders had become 18 of my own personal children. I wanted the world for them and everything in between. The difference was they could have the world and everything in between. They had access to those resources. 

The kids I was going back to had lived in a world I knew far better than the one I was in. I wasn't of major aid to my upper-class students as much as I was to the lower class. And at the end of the day, my job wasn't about the money; I continued to remind myself. It was about the next generation getting the support they needed and deserved. 

So when I saw that Morgan had left her sweater in the classroom before the break and I had the resume in my hand, I called and asked if I could come to talk with him about it. 

I hadn't been to the compound, and the size and security of it all was nerve-racking. The number of guards, levels of clearance, and private entrances I had to go through just to meet him in the lobby was intense. 

I couldn't help but marvel at the architect and the sufficiency the place ran on while walking up the steps outside into the building. 

People were walking around in grey and neutral-colored attire, and I felt like I stuck out like a sore thumb with my bright red and checkered winter coat. Though I like neutral colors, I was never one to keep strictly to that. It was near impossible for me to pass up an accessory or statement piece that popped with color. Hence why I always got the comment, "Oh, you're an elementary teacher? You definitely have the wardrobe for it." 

Thank God I spotted Tony only a few seconds after entering the foyer because there were three different reception desks, which I'm sure went to all kinds of departments of the massive establishment, but I wasn't sure which one to approach. 

He approached me with open arms and gave me a hubristic smile as I gave him a keen one in return. 

"The homework folder is meant to hold Morgan's work. Not your side hustles," I said with a raised eyebrow as I handed him a new folder with just the resume in it.

"It's work from a Stark; does that not count?" he said back, his grin never leaving. 

"Yeah, but the work I'm supposed to review is usually based on story elements and division facts. I don't think Morgan is worried about salary levels and insurance benefits at her age."

"With a work ethic like her mother and a brain like her mother… She'll be managing a place like this in no time," he placed his hands in his pockets, not taking the folder just yet. 

I handed off the sweater instead and held onto the folder, knowing I wouldn't be leaving with it either way. 

"That I can't argue. But she may want to get her math down before she starts something like that up," I held onto my tote bag with one hand and dropped the other with the folder. 

"Which is why I had that in her folder, so math and whatever else she needs help in, she can have you to h-." 

He was cut off when a tall, dark-skinned man approached abruptly. I recognized him as one of the Avengers but didn't want to seem shocked or freaked out, considering I was in their home, basically. 

"Hi," he said. 

Running to his side was a second Avenger I somewhat recognized, but he seemed more hesitant and nervous compared to the man with a sweet gap-toothed smile in front of me. 

Tony's light and teasing mood seemed to disappear with his interruption, and he took a breath before saying, "I told you I would help you after I talked with-." He was cut off as the man patted him on the arm and went to introduce himself. 

"Sam Wilson," he smiled kindly, offering his hand, which I smiled back and took. 

"Y/N Clark. Nice to meet you." 

Sam seemed to give his friend a silent look that communicated something else, and the blue-eyed man extended his hand as well. 

"James Barnes," he gave a tight-lipped smile like he was being forced to converse, but I returned a firm handshake and responded. 

"Mr. Barnes. Nice to meet you." 

I realized then I had seen this man earlier today at the coffee shop I stopped at before my errand here. I didn't have my head on straight at the time cause my sister had called saying that the repair man who was supposed to fix our balcony door had once again canceled and rescheduled. This was the fourth time now, and it felt like our apartment was crumbling beneath us with the 20 other things my landlord had kept pushing off. 

I thought I saw him staring then too, but like most strangers, I see in public, I just gave a brief smile and moved on with my day. Though in New York, I'm still learning that isn't a regular thing here. Many native New Yorkers could go the whole day not making eye contact with a single soul on the overpopulated streets. 

I brushed past the fact he was studying me like I was him, as if we were both looking for an answer to a question we didn't even know.

Tony turned all of our attention back to him as he introduced me to them briefly and promptly gave them death glares. Clearly, they were waiting on something from him, and he wasn't showing patience for what I assume were usual antics between the two with how they talked to each other. 

"Cyborge and Birdman, this is Ms. Clark. She's Morgan's teacher. Ms. Clark, these are two of my most impatient co-workers. Who I asked to give me a second before I talked with them…" 

"Thank this one for the interruption," James said while childishly shoving his friend to the point he teetered on his feet. 

"Just seemed rude to not introduce your colleagues," Sam gritted. 

"It's fine," I spoke up, attempting to break some of the tension building. And instantly, Mr. Barnes's eyes were back on me like they had been in the coffee shop. But I acted like I didn't notice and turned to Mr. Stark. "I was here to just drop off these two things anyway." 

I handed the folder off successfully this time since his attention was turned to the other two, and he took it while staring at them still. 

"Yeah, well, I had a few things I wanted to discuss without… This interruption." If looks could kill, his co-workers would be in a casket 6 feet under right where they stood. 

"I appreciate what you're offering, but I've already told you I have a job set with another district after this year."

James Barnes was grinning like a child who just got revenge, but why, I wasn't sure. 

"Yeah, but… Money." Tony said the last word like it was a magic word that would make me reconsider everything instantly and fold. 

"Money is great and all, but it's not what this is about, Mr. Stark." I couldn't help but laugh even if deep down I knew the risk I was taking not accepting his proposal. I went to readjust my tote on my shoulder as a nervous tic. "Maybe after winter break and I get some paperwork back from the new school I'll be at, we will better understand what I'll have on my plate."

"That sounds like a well-worded way to put this conversation off," Tony smirked. 

He wasn't wrong. I had worded it specifically as a way to keep it on the table for him knowing he'd never relent, but also to be able to walk away from the conversation and not get convinced out of my already made-up mind.

"It's Christmas break, Mr. Stark. Have a great vacation with your family, and happy holidays," I nodded, starting to turn out to walk, but before I was completely turned back, I looked at the other two men. "You two as well. I hope the world is kind enough to give you all a break as you deserve during this time." 

It was true. Crime and bad guys never ended, from what the news showed, and I couldn't imagine what big holidays looked like around here. 

"If I know anything about teaching, I know you'll need a break just as much," Sam shouted towards me after I was a few feet away, making me laugh.

"Happy Holidays," I said a final time before moving for the exit, thankful that the two men were there to distract Tony from trying to convince me to join his payroll. 

___________________________ 

"Oh sweet loving sister of mine, I'm home," I shouted in a sing-song voice but was abruptly cut off when I shut the door, and she stood on the other side like a damn statue. "Mother Fu-! Hallie!" I shouted after a scream let out of me first. "Why the hell are you acting like a Victorian ghost-child and standing there like that?" 

"Why didn't you tell me where you were going?" she said, quickly bypassing how she made my heart practically stop beating for 5 seconds too long. 

"I told you I was going to run errands," I answered vaguely, already knowing where she was going with this but not wanting to give her the advantage. 

"Yeah, errands don't normally involve going to the Avenger's Compound!" she shouted with her arms up as she watched me walk into the kitchen and follow me. 

"Jesus, lower your voice. We have neighbors," I grumbled, throwing my bag on the hooks on the wall and taking my coat off as well. 

"Answers, please," she crossed her arms like a mother who had just caught her daughter sneaking out to a party. 

"I had to drop off something that Morgan left at the school. I figured she'd want her coat for winter break," I answered honestly, just leaving out a few other details. 

"Like she wouldn't have a whole room for winter coats alone. Why did you really go?" Hallie continued to interrogate. 

I looked at her, and she was unwavering. I let out a huff of air, going to the fridge to grab a Dr. Pepper and the sweet cream to make my favorite drink after an eventful day. 

"I'm not lying when I said I went to drop that off," I said, pouring the soda into a glass and waiting for the foaming bubbles to go down. "And you know exactly why I didn't tell you I was going there." 

"You act like I'd go insane if I stepped a single foot on that estate," she groaned, pulling a stool out at our island/ kitchen table in the tiny New York City apartment we shared. "Even if Captain Roger's has walked on those tiles and maybe breathed in the same air and all…" 

"Here we go…" I mumbled, shaking the creamer bottle as I waited for what I knew was to come. 

"And so what if Natasha Romanoff has probably sat in the chairs or road the elevator that leads to what I assume are suites and apartments they have to themselves on the top levels?" she paused for effect as if waiting for me to confirm or deny as if I would know. But I just stared at her, and she continued without hesitation. "It's no big deal that Sam Wilson has probably flown the EX0-7 Falcon wingsuit in the field that surrounds the compound. Or maybe even hearing Steve playing an old jazz record. I know that cause there was a girl who used to live on his street when he stayed in the city, and she said there were a few nights that he would play all kinds of old songs with beautiful trumpet solos. Oh, and!" 

I absentmindedly poured the practiced amount of sweet cream into the Dr. Pepper, grabbed a straw to stir it, and took sips of it as I patiently waited for her to finish her fantasies. 

She went on about Clint Barton, Tony Stark, Wanda Maximoff, and any other Avenger that came to mind until she noticed me stop sipping my drink and start to slow-blink at her. 

"Stop. I know that look," she pointed, stopping in her rant abruptly. 

"What the you-just proved-my-point look?" I fluttered my eyelashes at her and took another sip. 

"Shut up," she sneered, even though she knew I was right. 

As if he had just realized people were home, her small senior brown-haired and deaf dog came hobbling around the corner and yipped when he looked at me. 

"Hey, Chuck Norris," I sighed, and he came up to me, barking at my leg like I was an intruder in my own home. "I still don't think he's used to me."

"You say that like you didn't live with him for 10 years," Hallie laughed, walking over and picking him up with one hand and cradling him in her arm. 

"Three of those years were just visits back home. I figured after a month of you being moved in here, his memory would catch up to realize I'm still the same person when we first rescued him." 

Chuck Norris was a tiny little mutt my sister had found behind a dumpster in the parking lot of a Cracker Barrel close to where we lived when we were younger. 

The vet had said he was already about four or five when we brought him in, but he had no microchips or anything showing he belonged to someone. He was also malnourished from only eating scraps that fell out of the dumpster since he wasn't big enough to scrounge through it himself. So he came with a laundry list of things he needed fixing with his tiny weak body. 

We only ever had one cat growing up, so it was a responsibility my parents weren't too sure about taking on. But my sister being who she is, made a presentation the next night and was able to persuade them to let her keep him for at least a month to show she could handle it. 

After a month, they saw how special of a dog he was to her and how she was practically the only one he trusted, and they couldn't just send him to the pound after that. 

The laundry list of illnesses and help he was going to need to get him back on his feet led to a lot of medical bills in his future. But luckily, an old friend of mine I had gone to high school with went into Veterinary school and helped my family out a few times since we were still close. 

Now Chuck Norris lived here, and he didn't care that I, even if I was paying most of the bills, lived here along with him. He only trusted one person wholeheartedly in his life, and that was my sister. 

Now being 14, possibly 15 years old, his eyes weren't great, and he was almost a hundred percent deaf besides sharp noises he happened to hear every once in a while. I'm almost positive he had some form of dementia, too, cause he treated me like a stranger most of the time.

He must have been sleeping when I came in cause a lot of times, if he sees my walk in, he's at my feet barking and acting like he's going to be the one to bring an end to the big monster that teases and picks at his mom. 

As for the name… Don't ask. My sister's an anomaly, and that's the only answer I have to give for that.

"Back to the question at hand," my sister continued, and I groaned overdramatically before walking to the couch with my drink and turning the TV on. "Why didn't you tell me you were going to see the Tony Stark?!"

"First off, I think you answered that question when you went on your little tangent of extremely specific details. You've for sure daydreamed about the Avengers, you nerd," I started, looking up at her where she stood by the coffee table with the glossy-eyed brown mutt in her hand, who I couldn't tell was looking at me or the window that was behind me. "And second, who's to say I even saw Mr. Stark? I was just dropping off a sweater, and I could have very well just left it at reception and carried on with my day." 

"It's the fact you're saying it all as a 'could have' scenario instead of just saying you did," she deadpanned. 

She had me there, and that one was on me. 

"It's not like it's the first time I've ever met him. He is the parent of one of my students, so it's not a big deal to me anymore," I brushed it off and looked to the TV, and started mindlessly scrolling through the evening shows. 

 She immediately cut off my view by standing right in front of it.

"Move," I said, peeking my head around her body, which she quickly blocked again. 

"Once, I'm asking once, that I get to meet him," she bargained. 

"Eventually. Just not before the break. We're all tired and have been busy, him, I'm sure more than anyone, and I don't think the compound is where he wants to worry about crazy obsessed fans bombarding him," I looked at her with a big-sister stare. "Now, the whole thing is already over and done. Can I please just drink this and watch an episode of this documentary I've been waiting to decompress to all day?" 

As if I was asking too much and the universe needed to humble me, the coat rack I had hung my coat and tote bag earlier fell to the floor with a harsh crash. 

I didn't even look in the direction of the latest home improvement added to the list, but instead closed my eyes and sat up some. 

"Classic," I mumbled and started to move to the closet we kept our toolbag in, but before I could stand up, Hallie stopped me. 

"Don't. I bargained with the building repair man to come tomorrow instead of making us wait another week," she said, looking back at the damage. "He can do that as an extra fix for being an ass."

"How'd you manage that?" 

I looked at her, impressed, considering the guy was a nuisance and very much a man's man. In other words, "How could two girls on their own ever manage without a big strong man to come and save them when things fell apart?" I think he got off on being able to make us wait for him when it came to things we couldn't actually fix. Talk about a savior complex.

"I said I had to bake some cookies for one of my classes and said I would bake some extra if he came sooner," she shrugged. 

"You're a musical theater major. What class is having you bake cookies?" I gave her a weird look. 

"None. I just didn't want him to think I was baking them just for him," she said with a witty smile. 

"Attagirl," I chuckled, patting the couch next to me. "Just for that, I'll let you pick which documentary we binge tonight." 

"Why is it always with the documentaries?" she huffed, sitting next to me despite acting like she was upset with the option. 

"Don't lie and act like you don't get sucked in." I stood up and put the now half-empty drink down. "I'm going to change, but look through the ones we've already started and pick from those."

"Does Unsolved Supernatural with Shane and Ryan count?" I heard her shout as I turned into my room. 

Normally the answer was no, but I could go for something fun and not so serious. 

"Sure, but pick a good episode!" I shouted back. "Let Christmas break commence…" 

The tags have not been acting right as of lately, so if I tagged you and you did get a notification, please let me know! I'm trying to see if people are getting the notifications or not. Thank you!

Let me know if you want to be tagged by sending me an ask here!

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[tweedlydumbtweedlydoo]

Gestures | Elijah Mikaelson x reader

Requested by anon / Summary: Elijah confesses his love for you in multiple ways, but you don’t believe it until he finally says those three words. 

A/N: I am so sorry it’s took so long to get this out! I’m slowly working through my requests I have, so I apologize if you are still waiting for yours!  I hope you enjoy xx 

Tag list is at the end. Let me know if you want to be added xx

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Confessing your love for someone is not always the three spoken words of I love you. There are simple gestures that can show that person you love them. However, sometimes the message gets lost in translation and that person only sees you as being kind, sweet, thoughtful. 

Elijah stood at the stove, an apron around his hips and a towel thrown over his shoulder, cooking your favorite meal. He’d remembered a conversation you two had a long time ago and you’d told him your favorite meal, so he decided to surprise you when you came back from shopping with Rebekah. 

The two of you’d met in the French Quarter and hit it off as friends. You’d come to meet Rebekah and became a good friend to her as well. They both enjoyed your company, but Elijah’s fondness for you grew. He began to see you more than a friend, but as someone he could love. He’d never been good with his words and decided actions were the best confession. So, he made himself a list of the things he could do to show his love for you. First was cooking your favorite meal. 

“Something smells delicious!” You comment as you enter the kitchen, arms full of shopping bags. Rebekah follows you with the same amount of bags. Setting them down in the floor you come to Elijah’s side, “Is that my favorite?” You ask with a smile. 

“I thought you’d enjoy it after a day of shopping with my dear sister.” He gathers a small amount on the spoon, making sure to blow on it first to cool it down, “Careful darling, it might be hot.”

You hum in content as you taste it, “Elijah, this tastes amazing! Just like how my family made it.” 

He’d never tell his secret, but he’d called your family and took detailed notes on how to cook it perfectly like they do. “Good, i’m glad. It should be ready any minute now.” 

You and Rebekah decide to freshen up before dinner and on your way up the stairs you ask her, “Did you tell him about my favorite dinner?” 

“I didn’t even know what your favorite dinner was.” She laughs. 

You frown and continue up the stairs. You hadn’t mentioned that it was your favorite recently.. You wrack your brain wondering when you would have told him and then it hits you. You told him the very first day the two of you met almost a year ago and he’d remembered. 

~ 

The second thing on his list was show interest in your interests such as your favorite music. It wasn’t his cup of tea, but he listened to it. The two of you were currently in the car on your way into town for a late lunch. 

“Shall we play some music?” He asks as he turns on the radio. 

You groan, “Please Elijah, none of that stuff you listen too.” 

He chuckles, “None of that today...” He hits play and your favorite artist fills the speakers. 

“Oh my god! This is my favorite artist!” 

He smiles at your excitement, “it’s actually not that bad.” 

You gently hit his arm, “I told you just to give them a chance!” You’d been telling him for weeks to just listen to some of their songs and that he’d like them. 

The two of you sang, well more Elijah watched you with adoration as you belted out the lyrics. He almost told you he loved you then, but he wasn’t great with his words. 

~ 

The third thing on his list was writing love letters among other gifts. However, his love letters weren’t love letters at all. He woke up every Monday morning before you left for work to grab your favorite flowers and would write a small note attached, Good morning beautiful. Have a great day at work. xo -E 

He’d leave the flowers on your doorstep so when you’d leave for work they’d be there waiting for you. Monday’s were always the worst, but when you’d find those flowers on your doorstep it made your Monday’s even better. It left you looking forward to Monday’s. He almost wrote that he loved you on the note one morning but decided in person would be better. 

~ 

Elijah turned on the record player and soft music filled the living room. “Care to dance?” He asks as he holds his hand out to you. 

You laughed, giving a small curtsy, “Why I would love too.” You took his hand in yours and he pulled you into his chest. 

The two of you swayed softly to the music.

“y/n..” 

You pulled away from his chest to look up at him and your stomach filled with butterflies. This was it, the moment you’ve been waiting for. You weren’t blind, you knew now that these small gestures were his way of confessing his love. At least you hoped that was what they were. Would friends really buy flowers and leave a note every Monday morning just because they know you hate Monday’s? 

But you wanted to hear those words from him. 

“Yes?” You breath out. 

“I..I-” He gulps, the words are stuck in his throat. He shakes his head and clears his throat, “Nothing.. It’s just late. I know you have work tomorrow.” 

To say you were disappointed was an understatement. He wanted to tell you and he almost did, but he couldn’t bring himself to say it. You felt yourself become frustrated, “yeah you’re probably right.” You harshly pull away from him and snatch up your things from the couch. 

“Is something wrong? Did I say something to upset you?” He frowns at your change of attitude and turns off the music. 

“It’s what you won’t say.” You can’t help the tears that fill your eyes. You wanted him to say it. You’d learned from the past that when a girl says I love you first, it scares the boy off or it turns out you read into it wrong and it wasn’t love, so you’re left in embarrassment. Your eyes meet his and then you rush out the door only to be greeted with a downpour of rain. 

Elijah uses his vampire speed to run to you, stopping you in your tracks, “Y/n please.”

“Just let me leave Elijah.” You try to put your bag over your head to shield you from the rain, but it’s no use, you’re already soaked so you let your bag drop back at your sides. 

“I’m not very good at my words. I thought the gestures.. I thought they would be enough!” 

“Well, they aren’t! I know you feel it when we are together. Tell me I’m not imagining things, that i’m not hallucinating that you love me!” 

“I-I..” Again the words are caught in his throat. 

You shake your head and push passed him. He knows it’s now or never. He must confess or he may lose you. 

“I love you!” He yells out after you, finally able to get the words out. 

You stop and slowly turn around to face him as the rain continues to drench everything around you. 

“I love you,” He breaths out once more, “I could never get the words out. I was a coward and thought the gestures would be enough to show you that I love you,” he shakes his head, “You deserve much better than me, better than what I can give you.”

“Elijah, you’re more than what I deserve. You’re everything I’ve always wanted in a man.” You take a few steps closer to him and you’re standing within touching distance. Your hand reaches out to cup his cheek, “I love you, too.” 

One hand covers yours and he uses the other to wrap around your waist, pulling you to him, capturing your lips with his.

Your arms move up around his neck and he moves his other hand to your hair, leaving the other on your lower back. There’s not an inch of space between the two of you as he whispers, “I love you,” against your lips. 

The two of you stand in the downpour of the rain kissing as if there is no tomorrow. There was nothing left standing in his way of getting you and the happiness he deserved. He finally had confessed those three words and now there was no stopping him from continuing to say them any moment he got. 

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[carrotmakar]

Tell Me You Want Me

Pairing: Harry Styles x Reader

Word Count: 1.5k

Summary: You play truth or shot with Harry, Mitch, and Sarah backstage and things get a little out of hand.

Warning(s): drinking, jealous!h, fluff, talk of sex but nothing explicit, cursing (but what’s new)

A/N: cleaning out my inbox!!!!! @harryskittenxox​ requested: Please can I request a fluffy angst imagine with H where you’re all playing drinking games backstage at one of his shows and he gets protective and jealous - thanks so much! Thank you for requesting this!!! Here’s what I came up with based on this request, so I hope you enjoy it!!!!

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Reblogs help so much to support creators and they are greatly appreciated!

*

You and Harry have been in a pretty unconventional “relationship” for quite some time now. You’re friends, nothing more than that, but you sleep together. It had started as a way to relieve stress, a way for the two of you to release some steam while also satisfying your needs. It had started as nothing more than meaningless sex.

But now, four months later, you’re touring the world with Harry because he swore to you that he couldn’t go more than a few days without you by his side. Your late night rendezvous with Harry had stopped ending with you sneaking back to your house (or in this case, your hotel room) and progressed to you just spending the night.

As much as you hate to admit it, you’ve become the one that falls for their best friend as they go through a friends with benefits agreement. Regardless of how much you try to deny it, it hits you every single time that you see his face. Coming on tour with him made it ten times worse, as well. Seeing him on stage every night, exuding power and confidence, is going to be the death of you. He just looks so fucking good up there, entertaining thousands of people.

Every night, including tonight, you’ve been there to greet him as he runs offstage. Normally, he’d be high on his adrenaline, and you’d help him calm down and get to bed. Tonight, though, things are a little different. 

As soon as he got off the stage tonight, he flung himself into your arms, letting you hold him for longer than normal. You didn’t really question that, though, just chalking it up to him being a little more affectionate after this show. It’s happened before, so it was easy to decide that was most likely what was happening.

When Sarah and Mitch come over with a bottle of Tequila and shot glasses, however, you know why he’s giving you a little extra attention. He knows that whatever they have planned will lead to a very drunk Harry, and in turn a Harry that’s not able to perform like he normally does. 

It’s not like you really mind, though, you’d rather spend time with Harry getting drunk that having sex that you have to pretend means nothing to you.

“Okay so, since we’re on different floors of the hotel, I figured that we’d just sit here and play truth or shot.” Sarah chirps, smiling wide.

“I haven’t played that since I was a teenager.” Harry drawls, looking over at you and smirking. Why he did so, you have no idea, but you have a feeling that you’ll figure it out at some point soon. 

“Yeah, well, you’re about to play it again. Let’s go!” You follow behind Sarah as she leads you to Harry’s dressing room. There’s a table already set up with four chairs around it, so you make your way to it and take the seat closest to the door. Harry quickly slides into the seat next to you and tries his best to pull you closer to him.

Sarah gives you a look as she sits down, but you just wave her off. There’s no need for her to question anything between you and Harry when there’s not even anything going on. It’s not like he actually has feelings for you, so there’s nothing to discuss. 

“Alright, bitches, I’ll start.” Mitch, surprisingly, speaks up. He waits until Sarah pours the alcohol into each pint tinted shot glass and distributes one to everyone. Clearing his throat, he points at you. “Y/N, what’s up with you and Michael.” 

Of course, Mitch would start with that. Sighing, you pick up the shot glass and throw it back, letting the alcohol burn your throat on it’s way down. You wince slightly as you place the glass down and watch Sarah refill it. 

Harry looks over at you and furrows his brows. Fuck, you forgot to tell Harry about him. Michael wasn’t really anything to you, just a guy that had begun flirting with you at work. He had gone so far as to ask you out a few times but every time that he gives you a time, you already had plans with Harry. You had planned to tell him about Michael if something actually happened, but since nothing had, the only person you had told about him was Sarah (who apparently thought it was a good idea to share with Mitch).

You mouth “later” to him and turn back to Sarah and Mitch. You can feel how stiff Harry’s become next to you, and you can’t figure out why. Maybe he thinks that you’ve been sleeping with Michael and not telling him about it. That would explain why he’s upset, it was in the rules after all. If either of you started seeing someone else, the arrangement was off. Neither one of you were okay with cheating, so you get why he could be reacting the way that he is.

Since you were asked the last question, it’s your turn to ask one. Smirking, you turn to Harry. “So, Styles, when are you putting fans out of their misery and releasing Anna and Medicine?”

He chuckles, shaking his head. He’s still stiff, but you can tell that he’s trying his best to calm himself down. “Probably never.”

You zone out as you watch his lips form around the words. It’s almost sad, really, how fast he can consume your attention. You let your eyes trace his face as subtly as possible until you hear your name being called.

Shaking your head, you look over at Sarah. “Yeah?”

“Harry asked you a question.” Your eyes widen in recognition.

Turning to him, he’s smirking at you. The smirk falls almost immediately once he starts talking, however. “Who’s Michael?”

“H, I said later.” You respond immediately.

“Well I want to know now.” He reason, although he just sounds like a whiny child.

Pushing up from the table, you flash Mitch and Sarah a smile. “Have fun with him, I’m going back to the hotel. I don’t want to play anymore.”

By the time Harry catches up with you, you’re already outside of the venue, pulling out your phone to call an Uber. “Listen I’m sorry, okay? Just, why won’t you tell me who Michael is?”

Scoffing you turn to face him. “Why do you care, Harry? Me and Michael aren’t doing anything, and all me and you do is fuck. So please, tell me why it’s so important.”

He flinches back, like your words physically hurt him. “You think that all you are to me is a fuck?”

Laughing, you run a hand through your hair. “Harry, you’re the one who made the rules. You’re the one who said “this is just sex” so do not pull the “that’s all you think of us?” card.” 

“Yeah, I made the rules because I was fucking scared, okay?” He sighs, taking a step closer to you.

“Scared of what, Harry?” You cross your arms over your chest to block him out. You know that without doing that, his arms would have been around you in just a few moments.

“Of falling in love with you.” He hangs his head as he says the words, and you have to strain to hear them. When you register what he says, you scoff.

“How does that make any sense? Harry, you started a relationship that’s based on being intimate with one another, but you’re scared of falling in love with me? Yeah, okay.” You roll your eyes as you turn away from him and go back to ordering an Uber.

“Okay, listen. I know it sounds stupid, alright? I get it. But I wanted you close. Hell, I still want you close. I just didn’t know how else to do it. It’s not like you’re in love with me.”

Turning on your heel you send him a death glare. “Do not tell me how I feel, Harry. I am so in love with you. I literally can’t get you off my mind, okay? But you’re not making any sense.”

You can’t help but mirror the smile that breaks out on his face. “Listen, just come back to my place, okay? I’ll explain everything there. I know that how I went about it was fucked up, but I love you, and I just want you to be mine.”

Sighing, you slip your phone back into your pocket. “Take me home, H.”

*

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[companionjones]

You Just Wanted A Nap

Requested by: @theradkid​

Request: Hey, if you are accepting requests- could you write an imagine with Conrad Hawkins x reader? Maybe something about the reader being a total badass and they work at the same hospital? xo

Pairing: Conrad Hawkins x Reader

Fandom: The Resident (FOX)

Warnings: Extreme violence, hospital shooting, dead body, blood

*******

    “Are they still going?” Conrad wondered as he came in for his morning shift at Chastain.

    Devon nodded with a look of amused appreciation that mirrored the resident. “They’ve been non-stop since last night.”

    “Jeez,” Hawkins chuckled, “You know where they are now?”

    Pravesh answered, “They’re just finishing up in OR2.”

    Conrad smiled, “Thanks,” and headed off to find you.

    “Whatever it is, I’m not available,” you notified your boyfriend as you were washing your hands and he came into view. “I just finished a triple shift. I’m dead on my feet. I’m going to take a nap.”

    Again, the resident chuckled. “I know, I’m not here to ask you to do anything...except maybe this--” He pulled you in by the hips and kissed you.

    Your hand went up to circle around his neck, and Conrad brought you closer. The kiss ended some odd moments later. Not that either of you could tell. Both of you had gotten lost in the embrace.

    Once the two of you parted, you sighed, “Alright, unless you want to carry my unconscious body to the nearest bed, I think it’s time for me to go.”

    “Who says I wouldn’t be up for carrying you?” Hawkins wondered cheekily.

    “Me and my professionalism,” you responded with some laughter.

    Conrad gave you one last kiss, and he let you out of his arms.

    The on-call room you found was empty and dark enough for you. You would’ve gone to the apartment you shared with Conrad if you weren’t so tired. You fell asleep almost as soon as your head hit the pillow.

    “Hhhgghh...Why am I being paged now? Haven’t you people had enough of me?” you mumbled to yourself as you blindly reached for your pager.

    Your whole demeanor changed once you saw the code on the screen. Suddenly, you were wide awake. The code meant that there was an active shooter in the building.

    A million thoughts raced though you head. Was Conrad okay? Were your patients okay? Were your friends okay? Protocol told you to secure yourself in whatever room you were currently in, but when you went to block the door, gunshots sounded from the other side of it. You finished your task, backed up, and hid yourself.

    Screams and violence sounded for what seemed like a very long time to you. Shakily, you crawled to the door so you could look through the small crack under it. Three people were in your line of sight. You couldn’t tell if they were alive or dead. One of them moved. She was begging a man (you could only see his feet) to spare her. He shot her in the head.

    The man walked toward your door. You held your breath. He didn’t seem to pay much attention to the room. The mystery murderer just continued down the hallway.

    As soon as his footsteps faded from your hearing, you went to work. You opened the door and raced to the injured. Only the woman that you witnessed being shot was dead. You did your best to focus on your job. Once everyone else was stable and hidden, you got really dizzy. You knew it was the adrenaline in you going no where. Taking a deep breath, you settled on what you needed to do. You followed the shooter’s path so you could “clean up” after him and hopefully save some lives.

    Meanwhile, Conrad was locked in a room with one of his patients, as per protocol. You occupied most of his thoughts. Poor Conrad had no idea where you were or if you were okay.

    He was used to what was happening because he had been in Afghanistan. You, on the other hand, had never seen any of what was going before. He could only hope that you were somewhere safe.

    Suddenly, gunshots flew though the air on the other side of Conrad’s door. Conrad immediately moved to comfort his patient.

    “I know why you’re doing this!”

    Conrad froze at the sound of your voice on the other side of his room’s door.

    “I know why you’re doing this,” you repeated with your hands up in surrender. “Can we talk about it?”

    The killer shook his head. “There’s nothing to talk about. She’s dead. You idiot doctors killed her!”

    “That’s awful. You must be furious.”

    He nodded, “I am. I loved Lyla more than anything in this world. And you took her from me.”

    “Okay, listen. I understand you’re in pain, but you have to remember...only a few of the doctors in this hospital worked on Lyla. I wan’t one of them, and neither were any of these doctors in this area right now. I can take you to--”

    The shooter angrily interrupted you, “No, no! Everyone is responsible. Anyone could have saved her, and nobody did! You’re all responsible!”

    Conrad couldn’t breathe. Hearing you talking to a confused and devastated man with a gun in his hand was killing Conrad. He needed to be out there with you, but Conrad was terrified that stepping out there would set the shooter off and get you hurt.

    However, the shooter was getting more agitated. Conrad felt that it was becoming true that you would get hurt no matter what. He stepped out of the patient’s room. “Don’t shoot! Don’t hurt them!”

    Conrad entering the situation scared the gun man. A shot rang out, but it wasn’t aimed at you. It was headed toward Conrad.

    “No!” you screamed, and charged at the shooter.

    Everything happened so fast after that. The next thing Conrad remembered was being swarmed by a bunch of doctors. He sat up. “I’m fine. I’m fine! Where are they?”

    Devon, who was luckily present, answered, “Y/n’s over there. They’re not hurt. Unlike you! Your arm was just shot! Conrad!” The intern yelled after the resident when Conrad got up to go see you.

    When your own group of doctors parted, Conrad saw you, bloody and in shock, clutching a bloody scalpel. The dead shooter was laying some distance away with several stab wounds in his torso.

    “Hey,” Conrad greeted softly as he knelt down next to you.

    “Hey,” you responded, deep in shock. “Are you okay?” You gazed at his bandaged arm in extreme concern.

    Dr. Hawkins shook his head. “Don’t worry about that. How about we focus on your breathing?”

    “Yeah. Yeah, sure.”

    For a few moments, it was just you and Conrad. He leaned his forehead on yours. Your breathing didn’t slow down right away. In fact, it sped up. You were finally processing what had happened. But Conrad was there with you. He held your hand and kept you close. It took some time, but you calmed down.

    “Excuse me, Doctor.” An emergency tech placed his hand on Conrad’s shoulder. “But we need to take Dr. L/n--”

    “I know,” Conrad cut off, but it wasn’t malicious. He kissed your knuckle. “I’ll see you in a few hours, okay? Then maybe we can finally take that nap.”

    The joke pulled a small smile from you. “I love you.”

    “I love you, too.” Conrad kissed you on the cheek and he disappeared into the crowd of doctors.

*******

Author’s Note: Thank you so much for reading! Fill up that heart and reblog if you liked it. I also would love a comment if you have the time. If you would like to read more, I have more fics on The Resident over on my page. You should check it out. Also, REQUESTS ARE OPEN. I take requests for one-shots, drabbles, multi-chapters, headcannons and preferences. No smut, please. I write for a variety of fandoms. If you’re wondering if I write for a specific fandom, please ask me. Have a nice day, night, or whatever time it is for you.<3

[tinabean37]

My Superman Part 4

My Superman Part 4

Catch up with Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Summery: Reader and Henry make plans for their date.

Warnings: None

Important: I do not know or own Henry Cavill. The characters in this story are made up by me.

**This chapter took forever to write, and I apologize for that. I started and restarted this chapter more times than I can count. I hope I came up with something you all like. Feedback is definitely appreciated. Let me know what you all think! And also...Asks are open. Send me ideas. :)**

******************************************************

The harsh sunlight of the new day shone brightly in your bedroom window. With a groan, you grabbed your phone off the nightstand to check the time. You were met by a notification for an unopened message from Henry, and that made you smile. You clicked on the message and the smile stayed on your face while you read his reply.

“Y/n. I was absolutely serious about getting together again. Tonight was one of the nicest times I’ve had in a while. I would love to see you again this week if we can? Think on it tonight. Sweet dreams darlin’.” He was serious? And wanted to see you again? This was the best news. You decided to fire off a quick reply before you got ready for the day. You were too eager to wait.

“Good morning Henry. This week would be wonderful. I am free tomorrow night, so if that works for you, I would love to see you again.” You hit send and put your phone away so you could clear your racing thoughts and be prepared for your day.

Once you got in the office, you were quickly met by your 2 workmates who you went out with the previous night. They were quick to apologize for leaving you and to see how the rest of your night went.

“Y/n, we’re sorry we left off last night. We met up with some gorgeous guys that we couldn’t say no to. Was the rest of your night alright?” Your friend offered. As you told them of last night's events with the horrible stranger, Andy, you decided not to be upset with them. If they hadn’t left you all by yourself, you most likely wouldn’t have met Henry. Which you told them as much. When they heard about your amazing chance encounter, you could pick up on their obvious jealously. You were unable to call them on it, however, as your boss took that moment to call the meeting to order.

When the meeting was over, you hurridly checked your phone on the way back to your desk. There were no unopened messages yet. Slightly disappointed, you sat down and decided to distract yourself with the project your boss set upon you this morning. This worked because the next thing you knew, your friends were at your desk inviting you to lunch, to make up for the night before. Taking them up on their offer, you grabbed your bag, threw your phone inside it, and headed off to grab a bite to eat.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Henry had barely made it through his door from his early morning meeting when he heard his cell phone ringing from the kitchen. He quickly ruffled Kal’s head, as he came to greet him, and rushed to grab it before the ringing stopped. Before he swiped to answer, he saw the name and face of his brother shining on his phone.

“Hey, Hank. how’s it going, man?” Henry's brother Charlie always gave his mood a pick-up. They were always close growing up, as they were the closest in age.

“Not too much. I just had a meeting with the studio heads. My new project starts up in a few weeks.” Henry continued to fill his brother in on his latest project and where that would take him and for how long. Afterward, Charlie updated Uncle Henry on how his nephews were doing, as well as what was new in his life. The brothers spoke at least once a week and always had a lot of catching up to do. Those Cavill boys were a busy bunch.

“That’s great, Henry, about the new project. But away for 4 months? Do you still not have anyone there who would miss you, and want you home?” Charlie always found a way to steer the conversation back to Henry’s love life. Or lack thereof. He didn’t do it to be mean. He legitimately cared about his brother and wanted him to be happy.

“Charlie, you know how bare that area has been. However, I did meet a girl last night. Might see her again too. She’s great. It was at the pub last night. Just walked right up to me. No idea who I was, and asked me to pretend to be her guy to scare off some arsehole who wouldn’t leave her alone. We got talking after that, and really hit it off.”

“Talk about chance encounters.” Charlie joked. He heard the excitement in Henry’s voice when he spoke of the girl, hoping for him that this worked out. He let his brother gush about this new girl for a bit longer, and after an agreement to keep him up to date on how it goes, the brothers ended the call. As Henry was about to put his phone back in his pocket, he saw the envelope icon on his phone, and his heart jumped as he saw that y/n had replied.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You and your workmates were having a coffee after lunch when you heard your phone buzz. You were so excited you almost threw it across the cafe with your jittery hands. Two pairs of excited eyes watched you intently as you stared at your phone, your mouth erupting into a giant smile.

“Y/n, don’t leave us in suspense. Is it from him?” You only nodded, too flummoxed to speak, as you handed your phone over to your friend to read the text message you received.

“Y/n, I hope you weren’t late for your early meeting this morning. I know I kept you late. I cannot wait until tomorrow. I haven’t been able to get you out of my head all day. I will pick you up at 7 at your flat. Until then, xo.” After the message was read aloud, your phone was roughly handed back to you with a scoff. That huge smile was still beaming on your face when your eyes fell on your two workmates, and couldn’t ignore their jealous edge. They passed looks between them two that you couldn’t ignore. You decided to finally put them in their place.

“I cannot believe my luck. Thanks again guys for leaving me at the bar last night. I really owe this to you.” You knew that comment may have taken things over the line with them, but you couldn’t bring yourself to worry about it. They didn’t seem to worry about you last night. You packed up your lunch, tossed the rubbish in the trash, and made your way back to your desk. When there, you sent your response.

“You have been in my thoughts all day as well. Tomorrow seems so far away. I will wait impatiently until then.” You put your phone down and dove back into your work. You had to keep yourself busy to keep your thoughts on track. 7 pm tomorrow couldn’t come fast enough.

[buckyreaderrecs]

Bucky Barnes and the Girl With Too Much Power: Chapter 4/?

Summary:  Nobody knows about your power. You’ve never really wanted to use it, let alone hurt someone with it. But, someone has figured you out, and now they’re following you. There’s only one place you can go for help - The Avengers. Good news is they’re good people. Bad news is your power is entirely relevant to soft, sad, recovering, broody Bucky Barnes. Chapter 1. Chapter 2. Chapter 3. 

Chapter 4: You have to leave behind the life you knew. 

Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Reader Characters: Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanov, Sam Wilson, Tony Stark, Wanda Maximoff, Peter Parker Additional tags: Bucky needs a hug, recovering Bucky, mostly canon compliant (Infinity War and Endgame didn’t happen, Stark Tower still exists), angst, possible future smut (who knows, not me), mutual pining, reader has powers / enhanced!reader, she/her pronouns, more tags/characters to be added with future chapters

Notes: I haven’t updated this fic in months and monthssss. Let me know if there are any continuity errors, and if this is still a fic worth me plugging away at. Thank you for any and all support! xo Rhi

Bucky Barnes and the Girl With Too Much Power Chapter 4/?

There was nothing comforting about having Stark-employed agents tailing you. Logically you knew that besides maybe a well-placed and patient sniper, nobody would be able to get close enough to hurt you. Not with spiders and witches and falcons watching over you. Certainly not with the last remaining Howling Commandos on your side.

Although you couldn't see him, even when you tried to covertly spot him, you could feel Bucky. You could feel him watching you and you knew it was him because it wasn't like before. It didn't make you feel sick with dread.

All of that was probably in your head though.

More tangible aspects of the situation were the beads of sweat rolling down your spine and pooling in the small of your back. Very real was the awkward pace you were keeping - definitely faster than a casual walk but a solid attempt to appear calm and normal.

It had been decided that you would walk the entire way home. It was doable, but you'd usually catch the bus. The people who wanted you would have to see the future to know when and where you'd catch a bus, but that wasn't outside the realm of possibility. Not anymore. So, you walked for 40 minutes.

…

Unless he wanted you to see him, Bucky Barnes was invisible. He'd always been good at camouflage, but programming by Hydra included 'how to disappear 101.' And under your power, it was like that again. Not a single soul saw Bucky as he followed you block by block. There wasn't even a gust of wind left in his wake to alert people that someone… something, had gone by.

Entirely focussed and keen eyed, Bucky watched your strange gait. If there was no power clouding his mind, he would have smirked a little; even Hydra couldn't take the sass out of him.

After he climbed through an unlocked bedroom window and landed on the floor behind you, Bucky stood up straight at attention. You were on your hands and knees, pulling things out of the bottom of a closet. There was a duffle bag in there somewhere, you were sure.

"Yes!" you whispered to yourself, standing and spinning around. The yelp that escaped your mouth sounded through Bucky's earpiece to the other Avengers situated in, on, and around your apartment building.

"Buck?" Steve asked, muscles already poised to move.

"Package is safe," Bucky replied, no emotion in his voice. The lack of it went unnoticed by Peter Parker - who was still too new and in awe to know Bucky beyond reputation and limited interaction. He didn't mean to, but Bucky had avoided Peter; he reminded him too much of pre-serum Steve. However, Wanda, Sam, and Steve all heard the tone, and all frowned to themselves from their respective positions. Nobody did anything though.

"You scared me," you said as soon as you yelped. When he didn't move, speak, or even shrug it off, you were reminded of your spell. A small, sad, "Oh," was uttered. "Stop. You can stop your… mission," you ordered him.

It didn't work. Maybe it wasn't specific enough. Without a lot of practice, you really weren't good at using your power when you actually needed to. You realised that you shouldn't have given Bucky a complex and prolonged order in the elevator.

"Ah… Relax. Be yourself…?" you tried. Bucky's blue eyes simply remained fixed on you and he went to speak, but you cut him off. "Oh! Ignore my previous order. Do not… feel compelled… to… Fuck. What did I tell you to do?"

"Make sure I get to my house safely. Help me get what I need, and bring me back here," Bucky said, repeating your command word-for-word. It was unnerving.

"Yeah… Don't… Don't do that. Unless you want to. Only do that if you want to."

When his posture gave (by only the slightest amount), you breathed out. It had worked, but you weren't sure exactly which part.

"Bucky?" you asked gently. Bucky smiled and it felt like rain in a drought. "You okay?"

He nodded, being much more used to giving non-verbal responses. Sam's voice was in his head though, encouraging him to speak, pushing his recovery forward faster than Steve's love alone could do. "Yeah, I'm fine…"

You could hear it in his slow drawl- that slight cognitive lag people sometimes experienced after your power left their minds and they were free again.

"I'm sorry,"

"No, darling', you don't have to keep saying that. It's alright,"

"But-"

"Please," he interrupted. He shook his head slightly, but it was enough for you to see he didn't want to talk about it. "You did good,"

"I just… walked," you replied.

"Yeah, but that isn't easy when you think someone's about to kill ya,"

"Wow. Reassuring. Thanks," you said sarcastically, moving around him to put the bag on the bed.

Bucky chuckled, then sat down next to the bag.

"Aren't you gonna, like, check the cupboards and stuff?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Christ, how unprofessional do you think we are?" From the dresser you were digging through, you looked over at him and shrugged in confusion. "Stark had people in here as soon as he figured out where here was,"

"Guessing that was pretty quick?"

"Yep," Bucky replied, popping the P sound purposefully.

"So, random people have been going through my stuff?" Looking around, nothing seemed out of place. It was unnerving, actually.

"Not random. People Stark trusts,"

"Do you trust them?"

But he hesitated and he saw that you'd seen. He couldn't but smile a little. "I don't not trust them."

Thinking for a couple seconds, you decided on, "Probably fair…"

Bucky nodded, and you continued to pack. He decided it wasn't worth telling you that in the very early hours of the morning, after the city was asleep and just before the sun woke up, he'd gone to your apartment too. Clues in the cupboards. Secrets under the seats. Anything really. Steve had been awake when Bucky slipped out. He'd thought maybe Bucky was checking for Hydra. Or possibly, Steve hoped, his best friend was driven by the fact that you looked a lot like a couple of the girls Bucky had charmed before the war meant anything to them.

Bucky followed you as you went room by room, filling the duffle, then a backpack, then an empty shopping bag.

"You planning on never coming back here?" he asked, mostly joking. When you stopped, moving like a deer in the headlights, Bucky realised. "Oh…"

"Am I? Am I coming back?" you asked, on the cusp of hopeful. The glimmer of it in your eyes killed Bucky.

"I don't know," he answered, voice a little too soft to be comforting.

Looking around your apartment, you tried to look brave. "I guess… it doesn't really matter. Hadn't really built much of a life anyway,"

"Of course it matters, Y/N."

Before you could say anything else, there was a loud knock on your door, followed by the shrill voice of your neighbour. "Y/N?! Did I just hear ya come home?! Where've ya been?!"

You and Bucky turned to each other at the same time, both expecting the other to do something.

"She's not gonna go away," you whispered.

"Make her," Bucky said.

"I don't want to use-"

"No," Bucky interrupted. "Just talk to her…" His tone implied the 'obviously.'

As soon as you swung the door open, Barb went to step in.

"Ah, sorry, Barb. Bit of a mess in here… Did you need… something?" you said, stopping her.

She eyed you suspiciously, tried to look past you. "You didn't come home last night,"

"Stayed at a friend's,"

"That's lovely… Which friend? That nice Lisa girl?"

"No, um, new friend. James."

Bucky almost laughed.

"A boy? I didn't realise you were dating." She emphasised the last word like it was taboo.

Normally, you'd be better at dealing with Barb; she meant well, but was incredibly nosey. Normally, you didn't answer all her rapid-fire questions immediately, but you were nervous.

"It's not like that. He's just a friend,"

"That you spent the night with,"

"Barb, it's 2020. We can be friends with guys now,"

"So defensive, Y/N! Must really like him," she said with a knowing smile.

"I'm just on my way out, actually,"

"Such a social butterfly all of a sudden. I was just coming over to see if you're alright,"

"I'm alright. And I appreciate it. I really do. I'm just… a bit busy right now,"

"Alright, alright," Barb said, holding her hands up in surrender. "I know when I'm not welcome-"

"No, Barb, it's not-"

"No, no, it's fine." She took a step backwards.

"Barb-"

"When will you be home then?"

Fuck.

You tried to look over your shoulder into your apartment as casually as possible. Glancing at Bucky, all he could offer was a shrug. You realised then that you would have to lie, really lie.

"Actually… Might be gone for a while. Got family upstate that need me."

Barb was quiet for a second, searching through everything she knew about you. "I hope everyone's alright," she settled on. She wanted to say that she didn't know you had family upstate… or any family at all, for that matter.

You'd lived in the apartment complex for five or so years. Barb had always looked out for you, especially since her kid went off to college. She'd met a couple of your friends, heard about work, but never once had you spoken about family. Barb hadn't pressed, although she very much wanted to. Something inside her was keeping her from doing so.

"Yeah, yep… They will be," you replied, nodding.

"Okay… Well, you'll have to come over for tea when you get back?"

"I will. Thanks, Barb."

She left.

Bucky watched you close the door, lock it out of habit.

Your eyes were full of tears. "I can't come back here," you whispered to him. "If someone is after me, I can't bring them here,"

"They probably already know where 'here' is," Bucky replied, almost immediately knowing it was the wrong thing to say. "But," he quickly added. "If they were gonna do anything, they'd done that already."

Bucky didn't believe that to be true at all. More likely, the people following you, upon discovering your sudden disappearance, would try to draw you out. If they knew Barb was a friend - it could make her a target.

You watched Bucky's expression. You read the lie. You didn't need to force the truth out though. You let the fact that he was trying to reassure you, reassure you.

"We'll keep surveillance here."

You nodded, moved slowly to continue packing.

Bucky stayed quiet, watched, tried to remember all the details of your apartment. Maybe they'd come in useful at some point.

"Okay, I'm ready," you announced.

"There's a car downstairs waiting for you," Bucky said.

"You're not coming?"

"I'll go out the way I came," he answered. When you didn't move, he added, "You'll be okay… Steve and everyone… they'll look after you." He wasn't lying that time. "Go."

Slinging bags over your shoulder, you nodded and left Bucky Barnes in the apartment you would never return to.

What would happen to the rest of your stuff? Would Stark pay for a storage unit? Pay your rent? What about work?

By the time you got to the car, you were again, on the verge of tears.

Upstairs, from a window of your apartment, Bucky watched you leave. He made a note to tell someone to teach you not to get into cars without checking if it was safe first. You hadn't even asked to see the driver's ID.

"She's aboard," Bucky relayed into coms.

"Copy that," Steve's voice came back. "Buck?"

Bucky was in his head.

For longer than Steve liked.

Chapter 5 is coming soon...

Tag list for this fic (open): @animegirlgeeky @brighteyedmichelle @howthehellisbucky @bitterstar88 @thatweirdwalangpake

Tag list for all my work (open): @bubbabarnes @browngirlmagic @lookalivefrosty @aynaraxas @vibraniumwitch @the--sad--hatter @fairislesheets - still won’t let me tag you?

[ugh-supersoldiers]

gracey’s (@ugh-supersoliders) 5k writing challenge

What’s up everyone! It’s official, my blog has hit 5k which is NUTS (especially given how stupidly inactive I’ve been over the last year) and in celebratation, I’m hosting a cute lil writing challenge!

I’m honestly vibing so hard with this so without any more delays here are the rules:

You don’t have to be following me to participate, but it’s always appreciated <3

Please reblog if you’re joining (and consider signal boosting even if you’re not xo)

All formats are welcome (AUs, drabbles, multiparts, oneshots) so long as they reach 450 words!

This is an mcu challenge, however if you want to use other characters portrayed by an mcu actor that’s very okay too (I’m looking at all you Seb hoes out there)

Please tag me (@ugh-supersoliders) and #graceys 5k challenge when you post your entry

I would also highly recommend sending me an ask telling me your fic is up.This just helps me keep track and guarentees it won’t get lost in my notifs!

Likes from me are bookmarks so I can read it later. I fully intend to reblog and give feedback when I have the time

Please BOLD your chosen prompt in your fic

Of course, if you have any questions please feel free to message me about it

One writer per prompt, one prompt per writer (I will be crossing out the ones that have been claimed)

INBOX ME WITH YOUR REQUESTED PROMPT AND NUMBER PLEASE AND THANKS!!!

𝓹𝓻𝓸𝓶𝓹𝓽𝓼

“You know, sometimes I honestly think you piss me off just to see what I’ll do to you.”

“I could never regret you.”

“I’m good, but I’m no angel.”

“Let me keep you safe.”

“You’ve fantasized about me before?” “Oh, baby. You have no idea.” @softhairbarnes

“If you could feel what I feel when you walk into the room, everything about ‘us’ would change.” @nekoannie-chan

“I wanted you to fight for me and you didn’t!”

“No, please, point your gun at me! Whatever helps you relax!”

“I’m not strong enough to handle losing you. Not again.”

“Sometimes I think it’s a good idea to kill the messenger.” “Why’s that?” “‘Cuz it sends a message.”

“I can only watch you break so many times before I start to crack.”

“C’mere.” “No, you’re gonna hit me.” @artemisrogersbarnes

“I’d run to you.”

“You’re quite the firecracker, aren’t you?” @immortalbarnes

“Starting without me?”

“I know you’re scared, but I am too. Isn’t that enough of an incentive for you?”

“Do you take naughty little pictures like this often?” “No.” “Well, you should.”

“I really hope one day you realize that you’re not the villain in your own story.” @breathinginthevapor

“That’s the best thing though, no one can tell us what to do out here.”

“I- I can’t. I’m sorry, but I can’t.” @anjali750

“I’m yours and nothing can change that, okay?”

“Please, just tell me I’m not a total lost cause.”

“I don’t know how to put this nicely, so I won’t.” @baezen

“You don’t have to say it back, you’re worth the wait. You always have been.” @blueberrythor

“I never stood a chance did I?” “That’s the saddest part; you did once.”

“I’m not the type of person that deserves this kind of love.”

“We all fight our own battles, your war’s just lasted longer than you thought it would.”

“I lost control.” @imagine-all-the-imagines

“I’d give anything to kiss you right now.”

“I thought I lost you.” @littledarlinwrites

[elles-choices]

Chapter 3: The “S” Question (Marrying You - MC x Mr. Sinclaire)

Book: Desire & Decorum

Summary: Clara and Mr. Sinclaire are getting married in a few days. Everything should be perfect but something her grandmother said is bothering her. Will Mr. Sinclaire be able to ease her mind?

Pairing: Mr. Sincaire x MC (Clara)

Characters: Mr. Sinclaire, Lady Clara

Words: about 1250

Disclaimer: All characters belong to Choices by Pixel Berry

Note: This mini series called “Marrying you” is about the final preparations for MC and Mr. Sinclaire’s wedding, their wedding day and night and their honeymoon… I hope you guys enjoy it :) Thank you for stopping by.

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

Marrying you: 

Chapter 1: The Last Fitting (Marrying You, MC x Mr. Sinclaire)

Chapter 2: Something Old, Something New, Something Borrowed, Something Blue  (Marrying you, MC x Mr. Sinclaire)

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

Clara and Mr. Sinclaire have wandered together through the Gardens of Edgewater for uncountable times. It was indeed a habit of his to take Clara for walks before their weekly supper at her residence — these strolls would usually take up to one hour as they shared with each other what they have been up to through the week. He would never admit it, however, he loved Clara’s chatty self and how she would always comes up with new ways to tease him.

This afternoon specifically, a few days away from their wedding, there was something different about her that Mr. Sinclaire could not quite grasp. It has been almost twenty minutes since Clara said something — it is so completely out of  her character that he started to count the minutes on his pocket watch.

„You once told me that strolls like this were meant for social interaction, dear. However, I have not heard much of you today. Is there anything you would like to share with me?“ He stops in front of a bench, holding her hand in his. „Are you worried about the wedding? Is there anything I can do for you, my Lady?“

Clara smiles embarrassed, feeling caught in her mind absence. She is not one to hide her thoughts, especially not from Mr. Sinclaire, however, this one she could not… she would not, out of her own choice, discuss with him.

„You do not worry, Sir. There has been things on my mind, however, nothing worth your time“, she shakes her head as if she could shake her worry away and gives him a forced smile „How are you feeling now that we are just days away of becoming husband and wife?“

Mr. Sinclaire knows Clara like the palm of his hand — so he thinks. However, in this particular occasion, he is right about her. There is indeed something she has been trying to hide. „I could not be happier. Not only because I am marrying the most beautiful and intelligent maiden in all of the Kingdom. I must confess that wedding preparations are all sorts of ordeal“. Clara chuckles for she knows Mr. Sinclaire must have been bored to death deciding decorations and dishes for the traditional wedding day breakfast. He takes her to the bench and they sit down to admire the trees, which are starting to change the colours of their leafs. The weather is awfully warm for an Autumn late afternoon, however, it is not as if they would complain — there was still hope that the wedding reception could take place outside. Mr. Sinclaire caresses her hand, looking into her eyes, „I admire your effort to converse with me, however, I can see that there is something you are not telling me… whatever it is, I do not want it standing between us, love“.

Clara knew, he would never let it go. Since Mr. Sinclaire opened his heart to her about his feelings towards her and his wife’s relationship with the Duke, he promised never to hide anything from her again — it goes without saying that he expected the same from Clara. 

„If you must know, Mr. Sinclaire. I have actually a question, however, I do not think you would appreciate my asking“, Clara breaks eye contact and try to organise her thoughts before spilling it all out.

„Whatever it is, I would never judge you, my Lady“. He tries to reassure her looking for her eyes. However, she tries to avoid his as if she was ashamed of her thoughts. So, he squeezes her hand showing his support.

„I… hmm… I have a question… it is about our wedding night“, she whispers hoping he will not be able to hear it. She looks at Mr. Sinclaire and realises he is flushing shades of red. „I told you that you would not appreciate my asking!“.

Visibly uncomfortable with Clara’s question, he looks to the opposite side of hers and mumbles, „Next time I will make sure to listen to you, my Lady“. He reaches to tug his collar - it has suddenly gotten hotter, he thinks. „We are having quite the heat wave, do you not think?“, turning his head back to her just to see her giggling. He raises an eyebrow, „Do you not think that on these sort of questions you should rather consult with your grandmother, Lady Clara?“

„Actually, we already talked about it… I mean, she talked and I… I almost cried of fear. The things she told me are giving me nightmares“. Clara flushes just remembering some of the details.

Mr. Sinclaire chuckles „I know I will regret it, however, I have to ask. What did she say that scared you so much? And pray, spare me the intimate details of your grandmother’s life“. He tries to avoid her eyes as he cannot believe they are discussing „baskett-making“ al fresco.

The words keep coming out of her mouth without any pausing for breath, „She told me it is going to be extremely painful, uncomfortable and I would bleed. That I have to face this night with no symptom of desire or lust whatsoever for I am pure and a virgin — these desires are dormant inside me, still to be awaken and I may look upon what we are doing with horror. Basically, my job is to lay on the bed by your side wondering what fate has in store for me and at your disposal“. Clara looks at him scared for her life as he tries to organise in his mind everything Clara has just said. He has never heard his fiancée talking so fast in his life.

After a few seconds in silence, Mr. Sinclaire cannot hold back the laughter for he has never heard such poppycock. He looks at her not even knowing where to start. „My Lady, pardon my reaction… it is just… this is blood-curdling. One could even wonder how women survive such a torturous night“. Clara narrows her eyes because she knows he is making fun of her. Mr. Sinclaire takes her hand in his and kiss it. „Sweetheart, your grandmother — and with this I mean no disrespect — is from a different time. I am not an expert in the matter of first times for I have only slept with one woman before, however, I can assure you that almost none of it applies to us“.

„Almost none of it?“, Clara looks at him unsure. 

„See, it might hurt and you might feel some discomfort, it could even bleed a little. It is okay to be nervous about it, I am nervous too. However, if I do my job properly… if I get you to relax, I am sure you will enjoy it as much as I will. Also, I would never want you to do something you are not comfortable with… if you are not ready, I’ll be glad to wait for you“. Mr. Sinclaire leans in and kisses her cheek.

Clara smiles for a quick second and than looks at him curious „Wait a minute... what is exactly your job? What will you be doing to make me relax?“. As Mr. Sinclaire hears her further questions, he starts coughing uncontrollably and in that second the bell for supper rings.

He stands up nervously and takes her hand helping her to her feet. „Oh, thank God!“, he mumbles to himself. „Well, my Lady, we will have to discuss this matter another day. We do not want to let your Lady Grandmother waiting, do we?“. Mr. Sinclaire starts walking briskly.

“But Mr. Sinclaire...”, Clara tries to keep up with him through the gardens, on the way to the manor.

-----------

Read more:

Chapter 4: Here Comes The Bride (MC x Mr. Sinclaire)

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[hollandtomholland]

Champagne - Part One

- A Tom Holland Fic

A/N: It’s been a while! This one has been sitting in my drafts since before I wrote my other two pieces, because I couldn’t think of a way to end it properly. So, instead of ending it, I just made it part one of two. Hope you enjoy, and as always feedback is much appreciated! Much love xo 

Summary: Since becoming Hollywood hot property, your best friend Tom hasn’t changed a bit. He’s still the charming down to earth guy he’s always been, and if anything, the two of you are closer than ever. It’s hard to say no when he convinces you to join him for a party, and yet something about tonight feels different. Maybe it’s just the champagne, but is Tom acting a little strangely?

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t just stay in and watch Netflix till my eyes fall out”

You stared expectantly at Tom, arms folded as you blocked the doorway to your flat. He simply rolled his eyes and shook his head, choosing to ignore your blatant show of stubbornness. “Because you’ll enjoy it! Now if you’d just let me in...” he insisted, making an attempt at moving past you. 

“Really? Is that the best you can come up with?” you shot back, not budging an inch. “When has anyone in the history of ever enjoyed a networking party?” 

“I do, when I’m in the right mood” he replied, leaning casually against the door frame. His calm demeanour was beginning to infuriate you; he knew you well enough to know that you’d give in to him eventually, and though you hated to admit it, you knew this also. You’d been good friends for a while and had grown closer since you moved to the city for your job at a talent agency. Tom had been the best guide you could’ve hoped for, introducing you to important people and helping you find your bearings. You barely went a week without seeing each other these days, apart from when he was away on a job. The situation you were currently in was nothing new; in fact, it was almost a ritual you played out every time Tom got you invited to another event that he knew would help you in the long run. All he had to do was play it cool, flash that charming smile and wait for your resolve to crumble. He had you wrapped around his finger and he knew it. 

Still, it wouldn’t stop you from trying your utmost best to drag this out as long as possible. “Look at me, Tom. Do I look like I’m in the mood for a party?”

“A pyjama party maybe” he smirked, eyeing your less than fancy choice of outfit.

“Exactly! Pyjamas means I’m settled in for the night” you stated, and he sighed.

“Off you go”

“What?”

“Go and get dressed” 

“My mind is made up and you’re more than welcome to join me when you realise that I’ve definitely picked the better option” you retorted, trying to ignore the intense eye contact he was serving you just then. You waited for him to come back with a smart remark or a sound piece of logic, but he simply continued to stare, eyebrows raised and a smile playing across his lips. 

“What? Why are you staring at me? Use your words, Tom, I’m not a mind reader”

Still nothing. Just a cool, patient stare that held your gaze in a way that stirred up something in the back of your mind, something that you chose to ignore this time and every other time he played this game. The longer he stared, the thicker the tension grew. You crossed your arms tighter across your chest, caging in any questionable feelings that threatened to surface. Not a good idea, you told yourself. Not with Tom. 

“Give up, Tom. I’m not coming and that’s final”

------

Twenty minutes later you were sat in the passenger seat of his car, scowling out of the window as you cruised through the city. Every so often Tom would glance over at you, a victorious smile pulling at the corners of his lips no matter how hard he tried to suppress it for your sake. “You scrub up well” he commented, and you looked down at the too-expensive dress you’d bought specially for occasions such as this. It was the fanciest outfit you owned, and it helped you to fit in at these parties where everyone was clearly much more wealthy and worldly than you were.

You rolled your eyes. “You say that every single time”.

“Because it’s true. You look lovely” he countered, the honesty in his voice coming through. You shuffled down further in your seat, turning your face away to hide the blush creeping onto your cheeks. “Thanks” you muttered indistinctly, and Tom grinned.  

“Any time”.

------

You had to admit, this was better than most other networking parties you’d been to before. By the time you arrived the the wine was flowing free and the room was bustling with already tipsy revellers, spilling out onto the grounds of the grand hotel it was held in. You recognised a few people here and there, relieved that you wouldn’t have to be a thorn in Tom’s side the entire night. Of course, you knew that he’d never think of you that way. He was always incredibly accommodating of you, making sure to introduce you to everyone he knew and ensuring that you were included in the conversation. As much as you’d relied on his efforts when you were new to the city and your job, eventually you’d realised that you should probably break off on your own and give him some space. The more people you met the easier this became, and by this point you were fairly confident about going solo for most of the night.

A small part of you was grateful that you didn’t have to spend the entire night with Tom, for a reason you would never admit to him. At parties such as these, he was not ‘Tom, the guy you’d known for years’. He was ‘Tom Holland, Hollywood hot property’. That’s not to say his behaviour had changed in any way since his fame; he was as down to earth and gracious as he’d always been, regardless of the setting or company. When in public, you were suddenly aware of Tom the way everyone else saw him. He was a movie star on the rise, and you were a lowly agent’s assistant trying to pretend you fitted into his world. Your job meant you could justify your presence at events such as tonight’s, but justifying your presence by his side was something else entirely. Perhaps it was just your own insecurities, but sometimes you swore you could see people looking at you with thinly veiled confusion. Who was this girl who Tom introduced as a friend? How could you possibly know him? How did you, a veritable nobody, fit into his life? 

The last question was one that had been playing on your mind uncomfortably often in recent months. You felt guilty for even thinking it, knowing that your friendship hadn’t changed at all since Tom entered the public eye. In fact, you were closer than ever, so truly there was no reason for you to have such doubts. It was stupid, you told yourself, in a bid to squash your negative thoughts back into the locked box they belonged in. It was the same box which held other thoughts about Tom, ones which weren’t so negative. Ones which entered your mind as you watched him from across the room, laughing and joking with a group of guys who’d already had a few beers too many. He stood tall and confident, a hand brushing idly through his tousled hair. It was a force of habit that he couldn’t seem to stop himself from doing, an idiosyncrasy that you loved to tease him about. You smiled as you watched him, thoughts drifting back to a recent afternoon you and Tom had spent together. ——

“Ten times in as many minutes”

Tom looked over at you from his position on the couch, nose crinkled up in confusion. “What are you on about? 

“That little hair thing you do, I’ve been counting. It’s like...” 

You ran a hand through your hair, flicking your head back to mimic his gesture with the addition of an over-exaggerated pout. “I do not make that face” he protested, only to earn more hair flicking and preening from you as you strolled around your living room. “Oh hey there, I’m Tom” Flick. “Don’t mind me, I’m just...” Flick. “Making sure everything looks...” Flick. “Perfect!” Flick.

“You’re terrible at impressions, I’ve never said that in my life” Tom scoffed, watching your performance with frustrated bemusement. You ran a hand through your hair again, stopping briefly in front of the mirror to admire yourself. “Aren’t I just a sight to behold?” you asked, flashing him a teasing smile over your shoulder.

“Come on now” he warned playfully, “Don’t make me have to come over there and stop you”

By this point you were enjoying yourself too much to stop, only spurred on by his warning. “Look at my curls, aren’t they luscious? It takes effort to have hair this spectacular” you continued, as he pushed himself up onto his feet. 

“That’s it, you’re done for”

You picked up the pace as he began to follow you. “I’m Tom Holland and I can’t even last sixty seconds without touching my hair” 

“Brace yourself” he advised coolly, hardly having to make an effort to catch up. Still you persisted, caught up the thrill of the moment... and besides, a big part of you wanted him to catch you. “I’m the most attractive guy on earth!” you announced, seconds before his arms wrapped around you from behind and pulled you into his body. He wrestled you onto the sofa with ease, pinning you down into the cushions with his full weight. “Jesus you’re strong” you managed to blurt out through your laughter, as he grinned down at you. “Damn right I am”.

You stared up at him as you tried to get your breath back, neither of you moving from your tangled position. As your breathing calmed, you became aware that you could feel his heartbeat through his chest. His breath was warm against your neck, his face mere inches away from yours, his knee between your thighs... and suddenly the playfulness of the moment shifted. The room was filled with an unfamiliar energy, one which both excited and scared you. It was the second emotion that you felt the strongest, however, and the cautious part of your mind pushed through the fog and took over. 

“And you’re so heavy!” you exclaimed, pushing a hand against his shoulder. In an instant, the tension was broken. Tom sprang off you as quickly as he could manage, stumbling a little as he got to his feet. You sat upright, filled with a nervous energy. “Right! I’m gonna make a us a cup of tea, back in a minute” 

You stood up and made your way to the kitchen, trying to shake off the residual awkwardness.  Out of the corner of your eye you could see Tom watching you. “Do you really think my curls are luscious?” he asked, bemused. Unsure of what to respond to that, you faltered for a moment. As you tried to come up with a answer that sounded casual enough, you spotted Tom raising a hand up to his hair. You snapped round to face him triumphantly. 

“See! You’re doing it again!”

------

You were brought back to the present by the feeling of something coming to rest on your shoulder. Craning your neck to investigate, you discovered that the object in question was in fact Tom’s chin. He grinned tipsily at you, empty glass in hand. “Hey” he said, wiggling his eyebrows teasingly, “How’s it going over here”. You’d been too caught up in your reminiscing to even notice that he’d moved, and you hoped the pang of embarrassment you suddenly felt wasn’t visible on your face. “I’m having a pretty good night, actually” you replied, and his face lit up at your words. “Yesssss! That’s what I like to hear!” He slurred, nudging your neck with his nose. 

Tom was already a pretty affectionate guy when sober, but Drunk Tom always took this to a whole new level. After a few glasses of wine you would find yourself on the receiving end of countless hugs and compliments, personal space becoming an alien concept to him. What struck you, however, was that he rarely got himself to this stage when out in such a public setting. He was usually much more measured with his drinking, making sure to stay relatively in control whilst still having a good time. 

“Seems like someone’s having a pretty good night too” you teased as you turned to face him, watching him sway a little as he tried to re-steady himself. 

“Every night’s a good night when you’re around” he effused, ruffling your hair with an uncoordinated hand. 

“Looks like a few champagnes might have something to do with it too” you suggested, and he shook his head vigorously. “What are you talking about, I’ve baaaarely had one glass” 

“You liar!” You gasped, mock-accusingly. He slipped his arm around your waist and pulled you into his side, pressing his flushed cheek against yours. “Maybe more than one then, but who’s counting?”

“Clearly not you”

His face dropped. “Are you mad at me? Dammit, I was supposed to be driving wasn’t I? I promise I won’t drive us back, I’ll get us a taxi or an uber or...”

“Of course I’m not mad at you, Tom” you cut in, silencing his rambling. “I’d be taking full advantage of the free bar too if I wasn’t working early tomorrow” 

You felt his body relax into yours once again, and he squeezed you a little tighter. “Good. I don’t want to make you mad, I’d hate it if you hated me”

You couldn’t help but laugh at the implausibility of his words. How could anyone ever hate Tom, least of all you? Hate was the opposite of what you felt for him, the voice at the back of your head chimed in unhelpfully. You squashed it back down into its box once again, choosing your words a little more carefully.  “I’d never hate you, Tom, you’re one of my best friends”

A look you didn’t quite recognise crossed his face, the drunken glint in his eyes replaced with an unfamiliar seriousness. He opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted by the arrival of a guy you recognised from a few of these events. Tom stepped away from you to shake his hand, his fingertips brushing your hip as he withdrew. “How’s it going mate? Good to see you!” he exclaimed, glancing back at you briefly as he launched into friendly conversation with the new arrival. You stayed and chatted obligingly for a minute or so, but your mind was preoccupied with the fleeting strangeness you’d just experienced. Excusing yourself politely, you stepped outside to get some much needed fresh air. 

The patio was still heaving with party goers, so you grabbed a glass of champagne from a waiter and kept walking until you set foot on the grass. It was more peaceful here, though you could still hear the muffled sounds of the party even from this far away. You sat cross-legged, back resting against a grassy slope as you tried to push Tom’s expression out of your mind. Clearly you were overthinking things. The boy was drunk, nothing he did merited any deeper reading than that. You knocked back a considerable mouthful of your champagne, feeling the bubbles fizzing at the back of your throat. Perhaps things would be clearer if you were just as inebriated as everyone around you.

Why couldn’t you just enjoy yourself like a normal person? Tom had made all that effort to get you out to a great party and here you were, sitting alone like a recluse. And why was it that you couldn’t seem to talk to him without joking or gently making fun of him? The nature of your friendship had always been playful, but recently it seemed like nothing that came out of your mouth around him was entirely genuine. It’s a defence, the voice at the back of your head chimed in. You’re overcompensating. It stops you from saying how you really feel.

It was getting harder and harder to keep these thoughts locked in their box, no matter how many times you shoved them back down. Taking another long sip of champagne, you decided that the most rational course of action was to process these thoughts. Once that was done, you could lay them to rest for good and carry on with life as usual. Perhaps a little more champagne would be helpful, you thought, before downing what remained in your glass. Now you were ready to unlock the box. 

At the heart of the issue was one very plain fact: 

You liked Tom as more than a friend. 

That seemed simple enough, you thought. Tom saw you as a friend, a best friend at that, but apparently that was no longer enough for you. Well, it would have to be enough, wouldn’t it? Your friendship was much too precious to risk derailing it with a few silly little feelings, and it just wouldn’t be fair to put that kind of pressure on Tom anyway. It was much more important to keep what you already had, without causing any unnecessary problems. What did it matter that your heartbeat quickened every time he smiled at you? What did it matter that ever single innocuous compliment made your cheeks turn scarlet with an unstoppable blush?  And what did it matter that every time he hugged you goodbye, you wished it had been a kiss? None of it mattered. You’d kept your feelings hidden for this long, and hidden they would stay. 

So, that was that. Feelings finally processed, you mentally closed the lid on the issue and tried to think of something else to keep you occupied.

“Found you!”

You looked up to see Tom standing at the top of the slope, his expression triumphant. “What are you doing all the way out here?” he asked, before plopping himself down beside you. He hadn’t sobered up at all since you’d last spoken. If anything, he was even more drunk. “Fancied some fresh air” you explained, watching as he pulled up a handful of grass and sprinkled it into your lap. 

“Thanks, just what I wanted” you told him, and he grinned. 

“You should come back inside,” he suggested, gently elbowing you in the ribs. “So many awesome people you should meet”.

You made a show of checking your phone, and tutting at the time. “I should probably make a move actually, I have to be at work by half seven”

“Nooooooo, come on!”

He leaned into you, one arm wrapping round your shoulders to pull you into a hug. “We’ve barely seen each other tonight, I wanted to party with youuuu!” he slurred, eyes wide. You couldn’t help but smile at the puppy dog expression he was pulling, something he tried whenever things weren’t going his way. It nearly always worked on you, so you were going to have to stay strong if you were to take your leave any time soon. “We can party together another time” you assured him, which didn’t seem to make a difference.

“How am I supposed to enjoy myself if you’re gone, huh?” he grumbled, folding his arms across his chest and pouting exaggeratedly. 

“I’m sure you’ll be just fine”.

“You have enjoyed tonight though, haven’t you?” he asked suddenly, seemingly genuinely concerned. “I know I dragged you out, but -”

“I’ve had a great time, I’m glad you dragged me out” you insisted.

“So you don’t hate me?”

You frowned at him, intrigued as to why he seemed so hung up on this tonight. “Tom, why do you keep thinking I hate you? Like I told you earlier, you’re one of my best friends” 

“Oh, frieeeeeeends!”

He rolled his eyes dramatically, throwing his head back in drunken disdain. “Friiieeeeends,” he repeated dragging the word out as long as possible. You stared at him in confusion, wondering just how much more he’d had to drink. “Are you okay?” you asked, shuffling round to face him properly. This level of Drunk Tom wasn’t one you were familiar with, and you weren’t sure what to make of it. He laughed bitterly. “Of course I am! We’re frrrrriends!”

“What do you mean?”

He ignored this, swaying away from you to rest against the slope. He folded his arms across his chest, staring up at the sky with an indignant expression on his face. “Tom? Talk to me, I don’t understand” you implored, and he snapped round to face you. His expression changed from indignant to serious, his gaze focused on your face. He stared intently at you as he sat up straighter and swallowed hard. “Fuck friends” he whispered back, his eyes dark and his brow furrowed. And again, with more certainty, “Fuck friends”. 

His hand came up to caress your cheek, before he leaned in slowly. He paused just inches away from your face, brown eyes staring into your own as if searching for objections; you had none. His expression softened entirely when he realised this, and he closed the gap between you with his lips pressed softly against yours. It was gentle at first, cautious even, but it soon deepened as he felt you kiss him back. He kissed you with passionate enthusiasm, leaning into you as he let himself be swept up in the moment. 

A million thoughts raced through your head, and you fought to keep them at bay. This was a moment you’d hardly dared to dream about, and finally it was happening. Tom was kissing you. What did it matter that he was drunk and… he was…

Tom was very drunk.

You could taste the alcohol on his lips, a sharp reminder that he wasn’t altogether lucid right now. One glass alone had blurred the edges of your mind, and who knew how many he had indulged in? Tom was kissing you, but… no, this wasn’t how you wanted it to happen. Your eyes snapped open as you parted from him suddenly. He moved with you, his body swaying forwards as a sigh left his lips. You placed a hand firmly on his shoulder, holding him up before he could fall into you entirely. “Tom, I –“

“Hey Tommy! You out here?”

The voice came from the direction of the patio, and the pair of you craned your necks to see above the slope. “Down here!” Tom yelled back, his slurred speech confirming everything you were thinking. He turned back to grin at you, a hand reaching out to tuck some stray hair behind your ear. “I will be riiiiight back for you” he mumbled softly, before staggering to his feet. You could only stare mutely up at him as he stumbled away, calling out to his friends: “I’m coming lads!”.

For a moment you sat in silence, struggling to process everything that had just happened. You’d only just worked through your feelings about Tom and yet here you were, even more confused than you’d been in the first place. That kiss… it had felt so right, so natural, until you’d let overthinking get in the way. But maybe you weren’t overthinking. He was undeniably drunk, so how could you possibly know if the kiss had been sincere on his part? He’d always been an affectionate drunk, and maybe this was just an extra, accidental step in that direction. Maybe he hadn’t known what he was doing at all. Maybe it was a mistake.

It had to be a mistake.

This was all wrong. You may not have been sure about your feelings, but you were sure that you needed to get out of there. You pulled yourself to your feet and walked yourself out to the car park, choosing to go around the building rather than risking bumping into Tom inside. You threw yourself into one of the taxis lined up outside, grateful for the swift exit. Leaving without saying goodbye wasn’t the kindest option, especially after the effort he’d been through to get you here, but you just couldn’t face him right now. What would you even say? You couldn’t pretend that everything was okay, but you couldn’t have a serious conversation with him either. Chances are he was so drunk that he’d forget you were there. Hopefully he was so drunk that he’d forget you’d ever been there… forget that he’d kissed you. 

Halfway home, you felt your phone buzz in your pocket. Taking it out, you felt your chest tighten as Tom’s contact image lit up the screen. It was a picture from your birthday, his arm wrapped around your shoulder as he pulled you in for a kiss on the cheek. You stared at it as the call went to voicemail, only for it to ring again seconds later. When you let that go unanswered too, a message popped up on the screen: can’t ffind u, uu stil heerre? zxx

Usually endearing, the drunk texting only made you feel worse. Quickly, you typed out a reply: In taxi home, enjoy the rest of your night x

Hopefully, that would put his mind at rest. Your mind, however, was not so easily placated. How were you going to deal with this one? How could a kiss, a kiss you’d been dreaming about you for so long, make you feel this bad? You know one thing, though. Your friendship with Tom had changed irreversibly, and whether that was for better or for worse, you would have to wait to find out. 

PART 2 HERE 

[supersleepygoat]

Also, if Jared or Jensen or any of the crew went through the same thing Michael did then I'd also believe the child until proven innocent. I love them, but I know better than to believe they are faultless. I do however doubt they'd ever do shit like that bc it is not in the nature of their persons to do so. Now, Michael is dead and may he rest if he truly was innocent. Anyway, anon your racism is problematic and you should not be a fuck face towards anyone. There are good people of every race 💖

Thank you so much again for saying that and I 100% agree with you. The children would be what matters to me, not the adult that I fangirl over. Having victims be heard is more important to me than a show. And, I really appreciate you reaching out and offering me your support. you are a really sweet person. I hope I didn’t scare too many people off and I am dropping this issue once and for all. So, thank you so much, hun. xo