#Dude I had to work so hard to convince myself to tag this at all

[enbyknife]

[voltronisanobsession]

hi!! i was wondering if your requests are open and if they are, can i request a pjo platonic headcanon fic where reader is Percy’s younger half sibling(by like 2 years) and the trio found them while on a quest?

Percy with a Younger Sibling | Platonic!Percy Jackson x Reader

I’ve been wanting to write a sibling thing for a while so HEREEEE😜😜 Also i hope this is what you meant by headcanon fic 😣

Its completely by accident when they stumble upon reader while wandering the city’s streets

Trying to make it to the nearest train station, the trio, so occupied with their current quest, failed to see the person running towards them at full speed until they body slam into Percy

The two go slamming into the ground, Percy taking the brunt of the impact while trying to make sense on why this kid quite literally tackled him

But just as he’s about to complain about the pain on his butt, homie is immediately taken aback by bright green eyes staring at him in shock

“I'm so sorry I-!” You try to lift him up from the ground as quick as possible before hearing shouting coming from behind, signaling you that it’s time to dip

So you run off just as quickly as you came, the three teens watching as a random store owner tries following after you only to give up once you turn into a busier street

Annabeth and Grover thought that was the end of that encounter until they notice homeboy Percy not moving from his spot

“Percy let’s go! The train leaves in 10 minutes. It’s better to be early than late.”

“Uh yeah, sure Annabeth. I’ll catch up with you guys, I gotta do something.”

The two watch with shock as Percy runs down and turns the same corner this random kid did just seconds before

Tbh it doesn’t take long for Percy to catch up to the younger kid since he’s taller and naturally fast as a demigod

Seeing you turn into an alley, Percy cautiously follows after you

“Why are you following me? Don’t you know how weird that is??”

Awkward chuckles escape his mouth as he takes in the younger child in front of him

Your look disheveled in every way possible. Sweater half zipped up, you look quite defensive at the sight of him. Much different to how you looked before when you were helping him up the ground

Reader's eyes are hard to ignore. He recognizes them, recognizes that they’re quite similar to his own. Maybe they’re exactly the same color?

Is this how people normally react to his eyes? Damn maybe he did win the pretty eye color lottery

Taking a small step forward, Percy goes to speak until you take a step back

“Don’t come any closer! You’re probably working with those monsters, aren’t you? Well I can defend myself now!”

This dudes eyes are as big as saucers as he watches you, with great difficulty, manipulate water into a thin stream in front of you from a small puddle

It all clicks in his head in an instance

I mean come on, a kid having powers like this? Controlling water at that?

To think he thought he and Tyson were the only children of Poseidon but life loves throwing surprises his way

I like to think that Percy would give reader a full rundown of quite literally everything, about why monster go after them, why they have these unique abilities, Camp Half Blood, the Olympians, EVERYTHING

It doesn't take much convincing on his end to have you tag along on his quest

Reader's been on their own for a while so finally having someone and somewhere to go gives a new sense of purpose in their life

And it doesn't hurt to admit that it feels nice to have someone look after them, someone to care for them. They've been alone for so long

Percy takes you under his wing, teaching and guiding you to the best of his abilities while on the quest

Annabeth and Grover had many MANY questions at first but soon drop it once they see you using your power for the first time

It makes sense why the green-eyed boy seemed so attached to you despite not knowing you for long

I think while Percy trains you to control your powers better, you'll both have an understanding of your familial relations with each other

Its kind of like an unspoken thing that you guys just quietly acknowledge. You put two and two together when you realize he shares the same ability as you..

ANYWAY

Both of you tend to feed into each others chaotic energy! Yall fall into a sibling dynamic after some point, him riling you up with his sarcastic comments and you easily taking the bait

Being younger than him, Percy does his best to not coddle reader! Yes he's protective of you, you're his younger sibling after all! (Thats gonna take some time getting used to for him) But you've survived on your own for quite a bit, so he has faith that you'll be able to handle yourself in the face of danger

Even if that includes you running away from said danger LMAO💀

Percy would TOTALLY tell you all about Sally! During the night while the others sleep, he would quietly tell you the stories about his mom and her obsession with making foods blue when she could, how she would take him to the beach every year for his birthday

He'll even tell you about Tyson and how he's a cyclops. That alone has you sitting up in astonishment because NO WAY

Hearing all the adventures and stories from Percy has you lowkey looking up to him. He's only 2-3 years older than you but he's been through so much and it honestly amazes you how strong he is.

When asked about him, Percy might even tell you a little bit about Poseidon. He tells you its a bit complicated but he'll sate your curiosity for the time being

He won't ask you outright, but he's definitely curious on how you were able to survive for so long by yourself, considering you're a child of one of the Big Three.

Percy is quite protective of Sibling!Reader! He doesn't want anything happening to you but considering your both like alarms on other monsters radar, its hard to accomplish that well

For the time being though, his main goal is to finish this mission and get you all back to camp, safe and in one piece (hopefully)

He promises that he'll protect you from anything that wishes to hurt, and he usually keeps his promises 😜

[streets-in-paradise]

Waiting - Andy Barclay x Reader

Requested by Anon

" hey can you make a story about Andy Barclay getting jealous at someone because they’re flirting there S/O. Btw it can be fluff or whatever I am having you have that choice thank I love your content ❤️❤️❤️❤️"

Sure, anon! And thank you for your kindness <3

Warnings: No proofreading, Insecure Andy being reassured by his s/o in fluffy and flirty ways.

Summary: A hopeless time of watching him unsuccessfully date other persons in front of you preceded the beggining of your relationship with Andy and now you can't believe he is the one feeling jealous.

Tags: @losersclubisms

Too long you had watched in the shadow of his failures, waiting untill he would stop ignoring the fullness of the woods for a single tree. As a server in the restaurant were most of his disastrous dates took place you had a privileged spot to observe the regular downfalls, convinced that you have never meet anyone with such terrible luck for romance. What started as an empathy driven approach just trying to help him out quickly turned into something else and you found yourself trully Interested on him.

Andy was a sweet guy who just have been lonely for too long. Everytime one of his dates would leave him heartbroken you were there to pick up the pieces hoping he would catch your signs. Getting to a point where you could start dating required a lot of patience from you, virtue that you lost after the redhead fiasco leading to directly asking him out by yourself.

It took him a while to understand you actually wanted to be with him, since at first he was convinced you did it out of pity. His way of loving made you feel as if your relationship was the best thing happening in his life and he was constantly afraid of loosing you.

He was not the kind of man who would start a fight over jealousy, but you could tell whenever he would be swallowing those feelings pretending to be just fine.

The first time it happened you realized he was so not ready to deal with other people flirting with you. A silly confussion with a stranger at a bar ruined the whole moment for him. The actual episode wasn't even a big deal, since you politely declined and sneaked your hands on top of the back pocket of the pants of your silently angry boyfriend to send a passive agressive message making the stranger dissapear.

Andy felt your hands softly squeezing his butt and that at least managed to distract him a bit.

" Did you notice how shocked he was? That dude couldn't believe i'm with you. " He openly commented. " … Sometimes even I can't believe i'm with you. "

" After all I have been waiting for you? " You sweetly complained. " How many cute people did i see you with before you stopped drowning in self pity and noticed I wanted your attention all along? "

He didn't consider that before, probably because those dates had such terrible outcomes he couldn't imagine you caring for that.

" Did I make you jealous?" He asked while a soft shade of blush in his face made him look down for a brief instant. " Me?? How?"

" I saw you put your heart and soul into each one of those, trying so hard for things to work because you liked those persons. That amount of dedication had completely won me over even before we started dating. " You frankly admitted. " They may have been desperate to run away, but I was there watching and wanting so badly to be them. You didn't have an easy life, i could tell that, but you are a wonderfull man so sweet, thoughtfull and handsome. A bit weird, maybe, but still adorable. You wanted love and I was desperate for a shot to love you, but there was always someone else rejecting you that you cared more about. "

" I was a fool, i know. " He apologized, still in disbelief. " Let's say I was misguided by the advice of an old friend. "

" You were driving me insane and I was so jealous of your dates. I began to ask myself what else could I do to make you notice me. I almost changed my hair colour but a friend told me that going redhead would have been too much. "

The confession made him chuckle.

" I love you exactly as you are … and I'm feeling quite jealous."

Verbally expressing his feelings was hard for him, but he did it in the spirit of his surprise.

" You have no damn reason for it, because i'm going nowhere. " You reassured him, pulling him closer. " I'm here with you and there is no other one I could want to be with ríght now. "

He was a happy, awkward mess evidently affected by your words in all kinds of ways.

For so, you decided to carry on taking things a bit further.

" Once we get back to my place you are all mine." You whispered close to his ear. " I'm going to show you exactly how much I love you and how wild you drive me. "

The insidious thoughts temporally faded under such delightfull promise.

[running-in-the-dark]

I've got more to say on that post (tw I'm insane I don't know what to tag this as its just. mental illness man idk.)

I'm really, really glad that other people apparently really don't know what it's like to feel like that. like you're not allowed to think certain things or that thinking them makes you bad.

because fuck I wish that was me.

I find it almost impossible to talk about this but I'm trying because I've found it's really the only thing that helps a little bit - and it feels like literal torture, like. I am having to actively fight every instinct in my head to be able to type any of it.

but. just. man I just can't. sometimes I can do it, but sometimes it's like now and I get so panicked about it that all the words just fucking disappear. literally can't talk about it.

okay, I'll try a different way. so. I get extremely obsessed with fictional characters (which you know if you've ever looked at this blog because duh). obviously that means I think about them. a lot. all the time really. and it's. it is really really hard, honestly. just like. imagine having to basically check every. little. thought. to see if there's anything there that could make you a bad person.

again, can't go into any more detail because My Brain (probably should stop saying that, I guess it's like, part of the ocd tendencies I have or whatever) won't fucking let me.

so, I'm trying to work on that, and for some reason I'm doing that by writing it down instead. because then I have like, the option to go back and look at it and be like actually this is probably fine. not horrible, not the worst thing anyone has ever thought, and even if it was - no one but me is ever going to see this, so why should it even matter?

but more than anything it's like. shown me how fucking insane that is. I literally can't even write so much as like. a hug. without feeling like I'm the most disgusting piece of shit ever (lots of complicated reasons but it boils down to basically. well you're thinking about his body. and that his body would feel nice. and that is absolutely not allowed in any way). when I've said that I'm writing some insane shit I don't mean like haha, this is sooo dirty hehe :3 no guys I mean it is literally insane and mostly me literally having to write paragraphs of dialogue in which the character assures me that it's okay and I'm not horrible for thinking that and. like I'm literally writing him as if he's my fucking therapist because that's the only way I can justify it in my own head.

like, I am not exaggerating when I say that I've made myself feel like I'm physically ill from overthinking this so much. I literally felt like I had a fever because I got so extremely stressed out about it. I think that was about like. holding hands or some shit. I'm 32 fucking years old. I'm literally married (won't even get into that but fuck dude just imagine being like this and. yeah).

and the funniest part about all of that is that I feel so unbelievably ashamed about all of it that I don't think I could even mention it to a therapist or whatever. like the thought alone is so absolutely horrifying that it makes me feel like I need to be punished for it. so I just convince myself that well it can't really be OCD anyway because I don't even have compulsions anymore (even though I did, and they affected my life so much for like, 15 years at least), and well even if it could still be that even without the compulsions well it's not that bad really. I mean I don't have the issues that people with actual OCD have, it doesn't really affect me, so what if I can't think about fucking that fictional guy, imagine how much a therapist would laugh at you for thinking you should get help with that, nope your brain is just fundamentally broken (it's always been that way after all, so it can't be something like that, no you're just broken and wrong and that's why all your thoughts are bad, you're just the worst person on Earth).

I can't explain how hard it is to even like. just talk about the most mundane shit. like let's say there's a picture of The Guy and I think he looks good. it's such a struggle to let myself say that. like literally, something as fucking basic as that. literally anything that is an admission of 'hi I've thought about his face and his body and I think they look kind of nice' makes me feel like I should literally die. that's why I've been trying to say that shit as much as I can lately, with the reasoning being well if I just keep doing it and nothing horrible happens it'll get easier right? (nope it doesn't, not really)

and like, there's so much more to it than social media, obviously. like it's probably 99% my upbringing (didn't even fucking realise until very recently that a lot of it is based on religious stuff because I didn't understand that my family was even that religious. yeah I don't get it either. but there's way more than the religion aspect, just pretty much everything about my childhood and my parents and. everything). but it does play a huge part in it for me and. I don't know what to do about that and I'll probably do nothing because doing anything is hard and I'm already completely overwhelmed by everything.

yeah idk all of that came from thinking about that video too much, idk, I'm shutting up now

[revanchistsuperstar]

Think I got a delayed emotional reaction to OFMD season two because I just started crying HARD listening to This Woman’s Work on the way home from the gay bar tonight. Weepy sad faggot details beneath the cut:

I’ve already said mentioned sort of not explicitly in the tags of a lot of posts what I’ve been going through the last few months but this is a fucking boiling point so let’s get into it.

I kissed a random man at the club tonight. He was gorgeous. He ticked every box I could think to have ticked. Otter, but a bit (lot) fruity. We were at a bear bar, I saw my friends do an awesome drag show, I was having a wonderful, happy time. Got flirted with and desired by a random man, the only thing I as a gay trans man have ever wanted. Almost was like “please, just take me home and fuck me” but he was off to another club and I didn’t feel like comitting to the bit as they say. Because here is the sad truth.

Ketan is the only person I’ve been able to see myself with for months. I love him. I hate that I do, but I do. He kissed me like I literally have never been kissed by a man before, this cisgender gay man, kissed me like I was the most beautiful, desirable man he’s ever known. We’ve known each other for

Eight years.

I’m absolutely not monogamous. I’ve had feelings for other men during the time I’ve had feelings for Ketan. This crush came on when I was still with my ex fiancée, I’ve felt this way for YEARS.

But the mother fucker had to kiss me, make me feel worthy of something for the first time in my life, say “I know,” when I told him I’d felt this way about him for years and kiss me again harder after our lips pulled apart that first time, keep kissing me that whole night over and over and over, and then pull a 180 and suddenly become too scared to talk to me ever again and tell me he was heartbroken and he couldn’t deal with this, when he was the one who came on to ME, because I as a gay trans man am so convinced every cis gay finds me repulsive I’ve never even made a Grindr despite desperately wanting to be dicked down most every day and night.

He had to say “you should have told me how you felt. I still might have done this but I would have been prepared” but then completely ghost me for an entire month.

He had to refuse to discuss it to the point that seven months later I still am so fucking confused I don’t even know how to explain to our mutual friends what the fuck happened.

And now here I am. Kissing a random, beautiful man but thinking of him. Thinking about how insane I went when he wasn’t talking to me at all, how I nearly lost my job because I was so suicidally depressed I would wake up every day and have my first thought be “I don’t want to be alive.”

I should be hoping, but I can’t stop thinking.

The fucking OCD mood.

This weird part of me keeps thinking “you two are meant to be together in the end, just be patient, this is the love of a lifetime and nobody has ever made you feel like this before, you two literally can talk to each other with just looks, every single damn thing about your lives is a mirror of one another, this is fate, this is a higher power doing this” but the rational part of me is so, SO fucking upset and hurt STILL and I hate both of these parts of me and I just don’t know what to do besides cry and dare to hope this might work out like it does on TV.

I miss you so much, Ketan. You’re literally only a few hundred feet away, posting “dinner for one” on your IG story, and I’m so much of a coward I can’t even text you and tell you what I feel.

And there has to be a god damn fucking tv show starring my COUSIN who LOOKS LIKE ME making it easy to project with a song that I’ve loved for years and just cuts to my core because it could be about US and I’m driving home from the club when I should be so over the moon that I got to kiss some dude who was so beautiful I’m just crying instead and…

Ketan I miss you so much. Why the fuck is this so triggering and so hard.

[doberbutts]

Your tags are interesting to me because I am not autistic but am neurodivergent and the large majority of men I've dated and partnered with have been somehow ND themselves and when writing romance and intimacy I almost exclusively write reference 1: myself and experiences I personally have had 2: men I have had as friends and/or partners 3: people and scenarios I find incredibly attractive.

I don't know if I would specifically call it an autistic thing because I have seen it in non-autistic neurodiverse people, but I have also seen it often enough to know it's more common than a lot of folks realize.

I also used to experience similar prior to transitioning. I never really considered my own capacity to be found attractive to someone and in fact was so used to being treated as the ugly daughter/sister that when someone would voice attraction, it would make me feel BAD and I would reject it out of hand as that person just trying to be nice about my obvious ugliness. Literally the worst way to convince baby!me to give you a chance was to say you thought I was visually pleasing because I straight up wouldn't believe you and would get incredibly suspicious about what you wanted from me. Vs now I preen and coo when dudes drool over me online and in person.

And I think I've given Panic a little of both, but a more healthy state of mind than I had when I was young. He's a tiefling that was raised surrounded by humans, and while his family came to accept him before he was old enough to remember anything different, visitors to the monastery were frequently quite frightened of him when he would walk into the room. That is, of course, why he chose to be called Panic.

So the concept of being wanted based on physical traits is a little foreign to him currently- as a traveling monk making just enough money to feed himself by punching bandits and rebuilding wells, most people regard him with a healthy amount of suspicion and keep a wide berth. He's a constant stranger and he's not a folk hero so he doesn't get Wyll's "beloved by the masses" reception when he rolls up to civilization looking for some food. He doesn't do big acts of heroism and in-game he asks the bards to please not sing about him (humility is prized by his patron) so most of his experiences with other people are one-offs.

And also some of it's just Panic himself. He's never thought too hard about pursuing romantic relationships and doesn't even know what gender(s) he likes, Astarion's the first to really tempt him and he's still not sure if he wants to move forward with that or how he wants to respond to the offer. In-game they did have sex but that's mostly bc I wanted the approval points lmao it's fade to black after he gets bit and for whatever reason Astarion never took off his pants even tho Panic did. So for all I know they did a little bit of heavy petting and dry humping and decided to call it there. Which I think would be more accurate for Panic considering, again, his high insight modifier let's him see through the front and I don't think he'd be comfortable pushing for more than that as a result.

So Astarion comes up to him in camp all flirting and eyelash batting and Panic's like uhhh OK. Logically I know you are actively flirting with me. And I suppose the compliment is appreciated. The other night was pretty fun. But A: how do I even respond to this and B: it doesn't really seem like you want it and you not wanting it kills what interest I have in continuing. So instead I'm going to give you a mildly confused look and say Some Monk Bullshit about balance and discipline and give your shoulder a squeeze before going back to what I was doing.

And in the mean time Astarion's like "?????? That usually works what the fuck??? Tf you mean???? Hello??? I'm super hot and you're supposed to be drooling over me wym good morning Astarion the petals of the flowers give praise to the sun today??? I didn't fuck you to have a discussion about mental peace achieved through perfecting your breathing I did it because you're supposed to be seduced by me???"

can i be thirsty for panic in ur inbox

You can. Panic's reaction would be sort of bemused. He's not used to being the center of attention

[crystalizedirongoblin]

Hospital Waiting Room (it’s not the place to get a crush)

Rating: Teen Pairing: Will Byers/Gareth, Will Byers & Gareth Tags: Comatose Maxine “Max” Mayfield,  Eddie Munson Lives, He's also in a coma, Pre-Slash, i don't know how to write romance, just so you know, I'm in rarepair hell, No beta we die like Barb, Siblings Will Byers & Eleven | Jane Hopper, Of Course No One Dies, no one dies, Fix-It of Sorts, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence Summary:  It takes Gareth almost two weeks to convince her mother to let him go visit the hospital, another four days to gather the courage to actually do it, in the end he can't make himself open that door. At least he won't be alone in the waiting room, and hey, the guys keep talking about Will Byers, maybe he can say hi? Or, I've been watching @my_ownhell Will/Gareth tiktoks and if no one is writing about this rarepair, I might just have to do it myself.

Read on AO3

It takes Gareth almost two weeks to convince her mother to let him go visit the hospital, and another four days to gather the courage to actually do it.

He doesn’t know what he’s expecting, he doesn’t know what he wants to say, the only thing he knows is that out of all of the members of Corroded Coffin, he’s the only one who’s even going to see Eddie, and that makes him so, so incredibly angry.

He thinks of Carver’s foot on his hand, pressing hard, hard, hard , he thinks of selling Dustin Henderson out and wants to punch himself. Henderson’s a year younger than him, he’s small, way too bubbly to stand up for himself, and he sent Jason Carver after him, the same psychopath that murdered his girlfriend and tried to frame Eddie for it. He thinks how betrayed he’d felt when he saw Lucas with them, of the broken skin above his eyebrow when they said Carver had punched him, trying to get rid of a witness after breaking Sinclair’s girlfriend bones. Had he outed Lucas as one of their club members then? Had he put him in danger?

He tells himself he’ll only work himself up more if he keeps like this, he had no idea of what was going on, still doesn’t, to be honest, but he knows that his friend is in a coma they don’t know if he’ll wake from, that he saved Henderson and that band chick during the earthquake, that he’d been hiding for days before that and Jeff and Grant, who are supposed to be his best friends are nowhere to be seen. So he steels himself, takes the stairs to a surprisingly empty hallway and marches on.

Outside the room where he knows Eddie is there’s two people; Erica Sinclair, curled up on one of the chairs, sleeping, and a guy he’s never seen before.

The guy tenses and turns when he hears him, and he looks incredibly familiar, but Gareth is not sure where from, but he seems to recognize him because he deflates and offers a tired smile.

“Hey” Gareth’s not sure what to do, he’s never been the best at social interactions, that’s why he always admired Eddie so much, even when he was in Middle School and he was just some dude four years older playing the guitar in the bar across the street from his apartment, even when the only reason he ever looked at Gareth was because his drummer had graduated and they needed someone to fill in, and a middle schooler who could hit the drums somewhat on beat was better than nothing.

Luckily the guy seems to notice he’s incredibly lost, because he offers;

“Hey, I’m just waiting for my sister, she’s in with Max, Mayfield. If you want to go see Eddie just know Dustin and Mike are in the room right now” He darts a quick look at the two closed doors, he swears he can hear Henderson from the one closest to him. The thought makes him remember the freshmen talking nonstop about someone else, the Byers kid, the one who went missing a couple years back. He looks older, but definitely the same guy, same bowl cut and everything, what was his name?

“You didn’t go in with them?”

“Ah, not really, I mean, I’ve heard a lot about him but I haven’t met him yet. The guys talk a lot about him but, you know, I’m not really comfortable going in when he’s not awake, you know?”

“I get it” Thinks of going in himself, watching Eddie laying on the bed. At least he could see him alive, but is it really? Is Eddie really Eddie without that manic energy, that constant noise? He sits on one of the chairs.

“The guys talk a lot about you too, Will the Wise, right?” He really hopes he’s right.

“Yeah, they mentioned me?” He looks surprised, Gareth can’t fathom why, the way they talked about him, he was the missing fourth of the whole person the younger kids seemed to turn into some days, knowing what each other were thinking and holding entire conversations without making a single noise, he feels the sudden urge to make Will understand this.

“Mention you? They wouldn’t stop talking about you, they made you out to be so great that for a while I thought you were as imaginary as Henderson’s girlfriend”

“I’ll let you know Suzie is a very real person.” Will smiles at Gareth’s incredulous snort and holy shit he has a nice smile “I know, it surprised us too”

After that, getting to know Will is easy, the guy is incredibly sarcastic and doesn’t hold anything bad, gareth finds himself almost laughing more than once, and the only thing that stops him is the muffled voices on the other side of the doors, Eddie’s and the Mayfield girl’s rooms.

As it tends to go with him, the conversation moves to music, Will asks about the pins on his vest, and Gareth asks him what he listens to.

He doesn’t understand how that’s a sensitive question, but it clearly is, because Will goes silent. He opens his mouth, tries to talk and changes his mind one, two, three times; in the end he settles for

“I haven’t been listening to a lot of music lately” Gareth’s not sure if he should push, but music’s never been a taboo topic before (unless it’s someone trying to preach something non metal to Eddie, then it’s kind of a bloodbath)

“But there has to be something you like more than others, come on, give me a genre”

“I guess I listen to most of what my brother does, you know? So Punk, I guess” He laughs at Gareth’s grimace “Don’t be like that, there’s more than Metal out there, it doesn’t stop being music because you can actually understand the lyrics, you know?”

“Sure, sure, but that doesn’t make them good!”

“Oh my god, you’re a snob”

“I’m not a snob! Have you thought maybe you just have bad taste? Another little sheep listening to The Smiths”

“What’s wrong with The Smiths?” Bless hi, he looks so offended , Gareth bits back a smile

Keep Reading on AO3

[silversatoru]

Hi, I just finished burdens and OML 🥺🥺🥺

May I request some sort of megumi x reader continuous where the reader ends up becoming a powerful sorcerer (or a cursed spirit👀 whichever you’d like tbh) megumi and the reader somehow cross paths again a little while after the break up and he witnesses her fighting for the first time? I just know that boy would fall in love all over again but she’s moved on and he feels guilty and just angst? And maybe fluff idk. I’m new to requests so I hope I did this right, thank you so much❤️❤️

burdens pt. 2

a/n: hello, part two of this not-so-lovely story is finally here. every single one of you is allowed one free punch to my face for taking so long to write it,,, i’m so sorry. this is its fourth rewrite and it got a little darker than expected but it’s finally done,, i hope you enjoy <3

fushiguro megumi x f!reader

synopsis: you finally see megumi again at the kyoto sister school goodwill event

tags/warnings: angst, some graphic depictions of violence, character death

word count: 3k

“Do you know how tired I am of watching the people I love die? Things would be so much easier for me if you just stayed the fuck away”.

Megumi’s bitter words were on repeat in your head — the harshness of his voice leaving a hollow feeling carved into your chest. Tear-stained cheeks and shaky breathes had become your new normal these past few days. Tight, sharp pains filled your empty stomach, waves of nausea coursing through your body.

You’ve had no motivation to get out of bed lately, nevermind to shower or cook yourself a proper meal — honestly, for all you cared you could rot away in your blanket filled bed. You checked your phone like a fiend too, thinking that eventually, a miraculous text from Megumi would appear and make everything better. It never did.

He’d completely ghosted you since that dreadful day, and that hurt more than anything. You’d held onto a sliver of hope that maybe, just maybe, he hadn't meant what he said. But as the days continued to pass, your hope quickly dwindled.

To say your current state was shameful was putting it lightly, and you were embarrassed at how poorly this was effecting you. You liked to think that you were strong, motivated, independent — that you didn't need some douchebag just to feel happy. But truth be told, breakups are fucking hard, and it's okay to not be okay for a while — or at least that's what you kept telling yourself.

So when you were trudging miserably down the street to your local convenience store and you saw a familiar pair of jujutsu sorcerers, you wanted desperately to sink into the ground. You made a quick turn to head to a different shop, but it was too late, you were spotted.

“y/n! hey!” Two lighthearted voices sang through the air, filling your ears and making your heart clench in your chest.

You turned around and anxiously approached them, your unkempt hair and baggy eyes sending looks of concern across their faces.

“Hey girl, you good?” Nobara shot you a sideways glance, Maki raising a suspicious eyebrow.

“Yeah, uh, ice cream,” You croaked, speaking for the first time in a couple days, “I’m here for ice cream, that’s all”.

“Yeah, but why do you look like a fucking zombie?” Maki pushed her eyeglasses further up her nose, her sharp eyes looking you up and down.

“Ah, he didn’t say anything to you guys, did he?” You shook your head, heavy eyes falling to ground as you refused to meet theirs.

“Don’t tell me…” Nobara’s face contorted, “Did he break up with you?”

You nodded, a pitiful chuckle falling from your lips, because if you didn’t laugh, you’d start sobbing right now.

Maki threw her arm around your shoulder, pulling you to her side and ushering you into the store, “It’s okay, men suck. Hang out with us today”.

Meanwhile, Nobara trailed quickly behind the two of you, anger seething from her teeth and steam practically billowing out of her ears.

“That fuckhead! I swear I’ll fuck his shit up big time, he won’t even know what fucking hit him. I knew that boy was stupid but shit, this is a whole new low for him! I-,” She continued to ramble and rant as Maki led you through the store, picking out drinks and snacks to help ease your pain.

The three of you ended up in a nearby park, sitting around a small picnic table and gorging on the massive array of snacks. Lighthearted conversation and lots of food make your chest ache a little less, and you even found yourself laughing and chatting as if things were normal. You’d told the two of them all about that day, about Megumi’s irrational words and his tragic breakdown that led to some kind of fucked-up break up sex.

“So, how are we gonna get back at him? Egg his car? Put bleach in his shampoo? Bugs in his food? God - it’s a shame his dad is dead because from the pictures I’ve seen that man was FINE and revenge sex—,”

“Nobara,” Maki shot her idiot girlfriend a dirty look, and the orange-haired girl quickly shut her mouth, “As much as I support any idea that revolves around ruining a man’s day, I don’t think revenge is the healthiest coping strategy here”.

You were tracing your eyes around Maki’s face as she spoke, and you found yourself carefully inspecting her purple glasses that rested softly on the bridge of her nose. And that’s when it clicked, the light bulb ignited in your head and you knew exactly what you wanted to do.

“Maki,” your voice was urgent, “You don’t have cursed energy, you can’t even see them without your glasses!”

Her face twisted and her nose scrunched, a look of distaste in her eyes, “I know?”

“So, you could teach me, right? You could help me learn how to use some cursed weapons?”

“Yeah! You have to Maki, then she can beat his ass with me,” Nobara chimed in.

“That’s not a bad idea actually,” Maki’s mouth formed an evil grin, “Could you imagine his face after watching you exorcise a curse?”

The three of your conversed for a bit longer, speculating and potting about training, weapons, and your very own pair of curse-seeing glasses. By the end of the night you had a plan, and a pretty good one if you say so yourself.

From that day on, teary eyes and achy hearts were a thing of the past, not because it was that easy to get over Megumi, but because Maki didn’t even allow you the time to feel dismal anymore. You met her everyday after classes without fail, and everyday she would train you until you thought your arms would fall off. After months and months of sore muscles, sweat, and the occasional injury, you were convinced that Maki was incapable of feeling pity or remorse for other living things. Every time you speculated about quitting, she’d set a fire under you, unafraid to remind you how weak you still were.

The green-haired sorcerer had ultimately decided that you worked best dual-armed -- a long, lightweight blade in each hand. On your final day of training, she officially gifted the two swords to you, as a “graduation” gift.

Skill-wise, you were by no means as incredible Maki, but you definitely held your own, and the progress you’d made in a mere 8 months was astronomical. They’d introduced you to a strange silver-haired man at some point, Gojo, who had taken not only an interest in you but also your plot against your ex-boyfriend. He cackled to himself when you told him why you were here, going on and on about how priceless Megumi’s face would be when he saw you.

Your appearance was highly anticipated, so why not debut at one of the biggest jujutsu events all year? The Kyoto Sister School Goodwill Event — Gojo thought it was the most perfect idea.

You tried hard to exude confidence as you walked at Nobara and Maki’s sides, but behind your arrogant facade your stomach was twisting itself into knots. Truthfully, you were scared to see Megumi again after so long.

And when your eyes met with his as you walked into the meeting room, you thought you just might pass out. You thought you were ready for this — but the look of complete shock, fear, and anger on his face as he looked you up and down almost made you regret all of it.

“What’s going on?” Megumi’s words were incredibly calculated, an edge on his voice.

His question was pointless, however, because judging by the fact that you were wearing a jujutsu tech uniform and had two swords sheathed at your sides could only mean one thing. Your hair was longer now too, and your frame was wider with an extra layer of muscle from all the training — you almost looked like a different person.

“I’ve been training with Maki, I-,” You spoke up to explain yourself, but you weren’t even granted the opportunity.

“No, no, Maki, what the hell did you do?” His eyes were shaky and laced with concern.

“I only did what she asked me to. I’m not the one who gave her a complex about being weak, you did that,” Maki shrugged, “and she’s not your girlfriend anymore dude, what do you care?”

Absolute confliction flashed through his eyes, uncertainty and madness swirling in his irises, “You’re right, I don’t care. Let me know when the event is starting”.

He took a sharp turn out of the room and let the door slam a little too hard behind him. The sound of his icey voice and the door shutting with unkind force was all too reminiscent of the night you broke up. Burying every emotion you had deep into your stomach you gave Maki a small, reassuring smile and plopped down on one of the couches.

“Alright, so when does this thing start?”

after the start of the event

Fighting the Kyoto students was proving to be much harder than you initially expected, but you were holding your own at Maki’s side. The two of you had easily taken down a small, kind, blue haired girl named Miwa, and now you were watching an emotional battle between Maki and her sister unfold.

Wait here, she’d told you, I want to do this one myself. Take some notes on my form and watch our backs, okay?

Okay, you’d said, a little confused but ultimately finding a nice spot up in a thick tree to carefully observe from. Maki was truly a force of nature, and it seemed like the other girl never actually had a chance of winning. It was honestly only a few minutes before the small black, haired girl was slumped against a tree and Maki was making her way back to you. Things were looking good, two of Kyoto’s student’s were down already and adrenaline was pumping through your veins.

You couldn't quite shake the awful feeling churning in your stomach though, and Megumi’s face was haunting your thoughts. You hadn’t seen him since before the event started, when an odd, pink haired boy jumped out of a box and freaked everyone out. Nobara had later explained who he was and what had happened, and you wondered how many awful surprises Gojo had planned today -- first you, then that.

A small rumble rippled under your feet, and Maki grabbed your arm as you watched a giant brown vine lurch it’s way out of the ground a few hundred yards in the distance.

“That technique doesn’t belong to anyone from Kyoto,” She shot you a look of concern and determination, “let’s go check it out”.

You gave her a firm nod, the two of you making your way towards the horrifying wooden vines. By the time you managed to arrive, Inumaki was already down and so was a dark-haired boy from Kyoto. A muscular, white curse with black markings and wooden branches for eyes was moments away from taking Megumi on all by himself — thank god you got here in time to help.

Megumi, however, was horrified when he saw you jump over the tall roofed building with Maki at your side. He’d just watched two incredible sorcerers get their shit rocked by this curse, there was no way you would stand a chance against this thing. But before he could even try to stop you, you and the green-haired sorcerer were flying through the air and taking shots at the curse. The two of you worked perfectly in sync, the months of daily training finally paying off.

He watched with intent glazed over his eyes, his heart threatening to lurch up his throat. You were a spectacle, and he always thought you were beautiful but seeing you now with dirt and blood stained clothes, cursed weapons gripped firmly in your hands, you truly were ethereal. He hated it though, he hated that he was falling in love with you all over again, especially under these circumstances. Guilt and anxiety was eating away at him — why did you have to get involved? Why couldn’t you have just stayed away like he told you to?

He was quick to join the two of you, sticking close to your side to protect you if need be — but, even with all three of you together the curse still had the upper hand. Maki had been swatted to the side, her back slamming hard against one of the tiled roofs and knocking her unconscious. It was down to just the two of you now, beads of sweat causing your hair to uncomfortably stick to the back of your neck. This was something that Maki’s training could have never prepared you for.

Megumi was getting tired, taking one wrong step and losing his footing momentarily. The curse saw this as a perfect window of opportunity, sending a spiral of vines and branches hurling for Megumi. It was fast, but the adrenaline coursing through you helped you to move faster, launching yourself through the air and intercepting the attack. The barky, wooden vines twisted violently through your stomach, shooting clean through your back and ripping a violent scream from your throat.

It hurt so bad, feeling the plant wriggle through your organs and tear you apart from the inside out. The curse retracted his vine a few moments later, leaving your mangled body to fall helplessly to the roof. Tears rippled from your eyes, your body shaking and seizing as you coughed up a few sprays of blood.

A long, strong pair of arms scooped you up instantaneously, and your head was resting against a firm chest — probably Megumi, but you didn’t quite have the energy to open your eyes to check.

“We’ll take it from here, get her to Ieiri!” You heard a pair of deep voices yelling to Megumi, but it was too foggy and far away for you to understand what they were saying.

Megumi was seething with anger, moving as fast as his feet could carry him and he ran through the school. As you waved in and out of consciousness, you batted open your eyes, stealing quick glances at his twisted features and — were those tears on his face?

“I- I’m sorry Megumi… I think I finally understand what you were so afraid of all this time,” Your voice was barely a croak, “when I saw it coming, I couldn’t stomach the thought of having to watch you die. I suddenly just thought I would do anything to keep you safe”.

Yeah, those were definitely tears, you could see them a little clearer now. His eyes were red and his cheeks were dried with salty streaks.

“You’re so thick-headed,” he mumbled, his grip around you tightening slightly as he picked up his pace, “I wish you would have made that realization before there was a giant hole in your stomach”.

“Me too,” You hummed, but you weren’t really in any pain anymore. The pain had subdued to a sweet warm sensation inside your stomach, and an intoxicating sleepiness was washing over your head, “I was angry for a long time, but I’m not mad at you anymore, Gumi. I hope you can forgive me too”.

You offered him a tiny smile, but the blood leaking from between you keeps made it anything but sweet.

“There’s nothing to forgive you for, you never did anything wrong,” He spoke quickly, his voice quiet and cracking.

“No, but we’re not gonna make it to Ieiri, I know that and so do you,” You fell into a violent fit of coughs again, sputtering red splatters all over the front of his uniform.

“Shut up”.

“It’s not your fault, none of it was ever your fault,” you choked out once the fit of coughs subsided — and you weren’t just talking about yourself, you were talking about all of the unfortunate tragedies he’d witnessed throughout this life.

“And you’re allowed to be selfish sometimes, you know? I hope that when you meet someone, your soulmate even, you can allow yourself to love them with every part of you”.

The words painfully left your lips, but you meant every single one of them. You were starting to realize that you and Megumi were never meant to make it to the end. You weren’t his soulmate, you were here to help him grow, so that when he did finally meet them he’d be ready.

“You deserve to be loved, Megumi,” You looked up at him with big eyes, but his face was starting to get really fuzzy now.

Your fingers were going numb and your mouth felt like it was filled with sand. You were so tired, letting your eyes flutter shut and your head rest softly against Megumi’s chest. You felt him stop running, you could even hear him screaming at you — but it was too far away for you to hear. You drifted closer and closer to eternal sleep, your soul swollen with love for the boy who broke your heart.

Megumi didn’t even feel sad when you stopped breathing in his arms — he just felt hollow. More empty and broken than he’d ever thought possible. You were the most incredible person he’d ever met — someone with extreme motivation, who acted with no fear or hesitation, who always had love to give, even when he didn’t deserve it. He’d never forget you, not for as long as he’d live anyway.

Even when he did meet a new girl a few years later — a compassionate, brave girl, who reminded him a lot of you — he wouldn’t forget. He wouldn’t forget your words and for the first time in his life he’d let his walls down for her. He’d allow himself to truly love, and be loved in return.

And maybe you were right, maybe he did deserve to be loved like this, because god, he finally feels whole again when she’s around. He just wishes you were still here so he could say thank you.

[hanniiesuckle17]

Blue Skies Chpt 3: The Mexican Standoff

A/n: I know the title is hella weird so imma just drop a definition for yall. Mexican standoff- a confrontation in which neither party stands any chance of victory. (also this is not edited so sorryyy) Tag List is open <3

Tag List: @woodiegochile @mini-meanhoe @leggomylino @hanstagrams @desertofdessert @hoes4hoseok @jeonqqin @geminirules @mrsunshine999 @jisungsjheekies @hannie-squirrel00​ @cotccotc​ @kodzu-ken​ @konenichi​ @yangs-jeongin​ @binniebutter​ @orangegyu​ @little-precious-baby ​

Blue Skies TL: @etherealyoonghwa​ ​

Summary: Y/n and Hongjoong were only acquaintances in college. They were on the same dance team but never crossed paths until one day both took notice of the other. One magical night after a party resulted in Y/n leaving with a guilty and angry conscious and surprisingly a blue stick. Three years later, Hongjoong is a hit producer and Y/n is a successful single mom. What happens when their paths cross yet again?

☁

Hongjoong’s POV

The three of us walked down the street, hands shoved in out pockets. Yunho’s little brother had told him about this awesome bar he had been to the other night and now the six foot man was dragging both San and myself all the way to Sangsu-dong just to go to ‘The Tipsy Devil Pub’.

“You guys are so slow. Come one!” The giant bellowed, already several steps ahead of San and me.

The red neon sign glowed in the night. It was hard not to smile seeing the cheeky devil design illuminating the street below it. “This place better have amazing food.” San groaned as Yunho pushed open the door excitedly. A buzz of volume leaked out of the pub.

“It’s not like you’re going to eat it. You’re on a diet.” I said with a laugh.

“It could be my cheat day. You don’t control me.”

As we entered the establishment my ears were greeted with a familiar sound. The door shut behind me and I watched my two friends ahead take in the dimly lit and packed bar. From the speakers my song drifted over the heads of everyone in the room. 

Blue skies don’t stay when yours is the only smile in my mind

Lips on mine.

Legs entwined.

Little Miss Blue Skies will never see the sunrise.

Not with me.

Little Miss Blue Skies,

Come back to me.

Yunho smiled turning around to face me. His long finger point up as if gesturing to sound waves in the air. “Dude! They are playing Blue Skies!” I nodded, getting my own look around the bar. 

“You think if we are with him we can get free drinks?” San suggested, pushing to the back of the bar. A row of booths lined the wall, a maroon velvet covering the seats. 

“If you can afford that Chanel belt, you can afford your own martinis.”

“That’s offensive,” San paused, not bother to look back at me. “You know I drink Daiquiries.”

Yunho scoffed, sliding his long legs into the curved booth. “Like that’s any better.” I sat on the outside of the seat- my eyes scanning the crowded venue. My eyes fell on a certain figure sitting at the bar. 

He was a pretty lanky guy, but his features were soft and very attractive. One arm of his was wrapped around a young boy who couldn’t be much older than three. The boy sat in the stool next to the man, feet dangling over the edge. 

A nudge to my shoulder brought me back to the conversation which apparently had moved on without me. San tilted his head as if to ask what I was looking at. Not really knowing how to justify the fact I was looking at a three year old, I just pointed to the bar. 

“Who the fuck brings a child to a bar?” The handsome man scoffed, tossing a cashew into the air and catching it with his mouth. He grabbed another handful from the bowl on the table. Guess today was his cheat day.

Yunho followed where my gaze led and pouted his lips a little. “Oh- Gunho, told me about that. Apparently that’s one of the owner’s kid. Sometimes if they can’t find a sitter I guess one of their friends at the bar watches him.”

“So that’s his dad? The owner?” I asked, pointing to the good-looking man at the bar. 

My friend shook his head, stealing some nuts from San. “He said his mom runs the bar with her friend. I think she’s single.” He looked around all the moving bodies in the space before pointing to a woman behind the bar. She was turned away from us, but she gave off an aura that sent chills down my spine in a good way. 

“Single moms aren’t usually your type, hyung.” San laughed, flagging down a waitress to order some drinks. Tearing my eyes away from the girl’s back I turned to my friend, brows raised and questioning his teasing tone. 

“Hongjoong’s type are usually the ones who leave,” Yunho struggled to say without laughing. Seeing my glare he chose to sip on a glass of water. “I could have said you like psycotic bitches..... It’s really a toss up between the two.” 

I rolled my eyes, thanking the waitress and she handed us our drinks. After a few rounds of some random drink in a rocks glass (Never again was I going to let San order for me), I felt a tug on my sleeve. 

Thinking some drunk stranger just bumped into me I paid it no mind. Feeling a harder pull I turned, vision not quite keeping up with the speed of my body. Once my brain could decipher through the alcoholic daze I saw the little boy from before. 

“Hey, bud,” I put down my drink and saw that Yunho had a goofy smile on his face looking at the kid. Should have known the gentle giant liked kids. “Can I help you?” 

The toddler looked up at me with big curious eyes. “What’s your name?” The boy asked in choppy words. My brother had a daughter and she talked like that around this age. I smiled, leaning over to better speak with him.

“My name is Kim Hongjoong. What’s yours bud?”

The little boy smiled, revealing a toothy grin. “Mr. Kim you look like my daddy!” 

I blinked a couple times attempting to process what the young child just declared. The other two men with me froze as well. “Hyung- is there something you need to tell us?” San stuttered, looking from the boy to me. 

“I-I... I don’t think so....I haven’t had a girlfriend since.....”

“Blue Skies- we know.” Yunho interrupted. “Maybe you just look like the guy?”

I nodded, trying to convince myself that Yunho’s suggestion was probably the most likely one. There was probably a ninety percent chance I looked like the kid’s father. Wetting my now dry lips I said, “H-how do you know? Where’s your dad?”

The boy shrugged, completely oblivious to the panic on my face as most kids would be. “My daddy isn’t here, but my mommy showed me a picture of them together.” He stumbled over some of the bigger words and if I wasn’t freaking the fuck out I would have found it cute. “My daddy had dark hair though,” The boy smiled, pointing to my fading blue locks. 

Pushing past the lump growing in my throat I asked the question burning in the back of my slightly inebriated mind. “Where’s your mom?” 

Fully turning around, the little boy pointed to behind the bar where not only the man from before was staring at me, but also a familiar set of E/c eyes. Staring back at me was a face I thought I would never see again. A face I thought I lost. A face that left. 

Y/n. 

She looked just as beautiful if not more than when I remembered her. Unable to stop myself, I stood up trying to see her better from across the crowded room. “Hyung... is that?” Yunho asked, probably not wanting to say her name just in case. 

“Yeah.....that’s her.”

Before I could say anything else or turn back to the boy, a woman sprinted across the bar and scooped up the kid. As she was running towards the bar, the toddler waved at me with a clueless and happy grin. Even if I hadn’t just drank three...whatever San ordered...I don’t think I would have been able to process what happened in those next few seconds. The woman shouted something to Y/n, who nodded not even batting an eye as the in my eyes, kidnapper, rushed out the door with a man who challenged even Yunho’s height. 

Shaking myself out of shock, I pushed through the rowdy mass of intoxicated young people, Yunho and San following me. I never took my eyes off of Y/n, not even when she yelled something to a man coming out the kitchen and bolted towards the exit. 

The second she got to the door I switched directions only to be stopped by the handsome man from the bar and the guy who basically Naruto ran out of the kitchen. 

“Hey! Big fan! I’m Wooyoung,” Naruto said, introducing himself all while keeping me from following Y/n. “I’m one of the owners and I just want to say how honored I am you came tonight. Can I get you a drink?”

“No. I just need to talk to that girl.” 

“Sorry, dude. That’s not gonna happen.” The other guy stated. He obviously wasn’t strong and the owner, Wooyoung was holding me back the most but I got the feeling I didn’t want to mess with this guy. 

I sighed, looking back to Yunho and San who were being absolutely no help. “I just need to fucking talk to her okay!” 

The two shared a look, before the skinnier one turned back to me, shaking his head. He was about to open his mouth and say something when the more excited one interjected. “You know....I can’t let you go talk to her....but for the right price....I’ll give you her number.”

“Woo, you devil spawn.”

“He’s not going to agree to it-”

“Done.”

“Excuse me, what.....” Wooyoung turned away in surprise from the argument he was having with his friend. 

At this point I was desperate. Wooyoung’s eyes turned to saucers as I started pulling out all the cash in my wallet (which was quite a bit). “How much?” The two of the just stood staring at the money in my hand. “Not enough?” I heaved an anxious sight before looking over my shoulder at my friends. “Yunho give me your wallet.” 

Not batting an eye, the tall dancer gave it to me and let me start taking cash out of his billfold. I handed them the thick stack of cash, looking at them expectantly. Slowly, Wooyoung reached out and pocketed the money before speaking again. 

“You know I was just going to ask for a selfie, but that works too.”

Previous Chapter   ☁   Next Chapter

Blue Skies M.List

Masterlist

[echos-newlegs]

Oh my god dude can I get 116 for Jesse??? Bc he seems like the type of smug lil shit who would wear full lingerie under his armor and show you just to get you flustered 👀

Surprised?

HA, I finally got time to write! So sorry for being inactive on you guys D: I've had zero motivation, plus work, prepping for school, and holiday stuff I've been so scatter brained. Plus I was hard-core pinning for a dude and WHEW that distracted the heck out of me but I'm convincing myself it's not worth it and to focus on myself 😎👍(I'm failing but oh well.)

So, Jay bestie, this ask has been living in my mind rent free since the day you sent it. I love it so much, it is such a Jesse thing. That man would kill me if I saw him in lingerie of any type. Also I self indulged because suspenders are *chef kiss* in my opinion. Anywhoo, let's get on with it.

Jesse x Reader: "Wanna see what I'm wearing underneath all this?"

Words: 819

Readers Gender: neutral! Nothing specific stated :) (gunna start adding this part because U always forget to include if the reader in gn, f, m, etc.! Don't forget you can request gender if you send a request as well!)

Warning: leads onto suggestive content, but there is no actual smut! I was too lazy to write it out. So that's up to you to imagine I guess. Might make a pt.2 if I ever feel like it? There is mentions of drinking, lingerie, kissing, uhh- think that's it?

Tags: Tag List: @murdertoothpick @andiebell2023 @kaitou2417 @tacticalsparkles @baroclinicinstability @captain-rexs-girlfriend @kirinpl @anotherdudeinthisworld @bitchylittleredhead @neekid @dwarfplanet69 @phoenixhalliwell @spaceydragons @marvel-starwars-nerd @perfectcolortreestudent @ladykatakuri @my-own-oracle @808tsuika @blueplaidhood @bleghbreakdown @edlix @ahsoka1 @nahoney22 @perpetual-fangirl900

"Wanna see what I'm wearing underneath all this, you seem eager enough, mesh'la." His voice was muttered in your ear while you sat on his lap in a booth at 79's. The two of you had met up at the bar way more than you'd care to admit. A few drinks or so and now you were in his lap, teasing him. Or at least you were trying. 

"I seem eager?" You muttered back, glancing back to him just the slightest. Rather thankful the other 501st boys were off doing their own things. 

"Oh, you do," he affirmed, groping your thighs with his large hands. Smirk finding its way to his face at the way your breath hitched. "You're always eager for me." He cooed, and you both knew he was right. 

"Bold words coming from you, Jesse," you spoke under your breath, yelping a bit when he pinched your hips. The action from you made a small laugh elicit from deep in his chest. You could probably feel the rumble of his chest if it weren't for his armor. 

"Jesse," you hissed, which only egged him on to continue his devious schemes. 

"Yes, Beautiful?" He cooed, lips pressing soft, warm kisses against your neck. Hands rubbing up and down your thighs with small hums. 

"I still have a drink to finish, I can't just leave it." You stated persistently. Smiling smugly at the groan he let out. 

His hand beat you to your drink. Snatching and downing the substance. 

"What drink?" He asked after a sharp sigh. 

You rolled your eyes with a small pout. "I was gunna drink it," leaning back against him with folded arms. To glance up to his face, only to notice the smirk he was shooting you. If it weren't for how handsome he was, you'd probably smack him. 

It wasn’t before long until the two of you were back at your apartment. You were pressed flat against the bed, Jesse hovering over you. Something you were sure you'd never get used to. How his heavy form above you made the mattress around you dip. His surprisingly soft lips against yours. Calloused, ungloved fingers, trailing over what exposed skin they could find. 

"I do have a surprise for you," he offered. His surprises were always something that you'd never expect. This one was beyond your mind as well. 

"Oh yeah?" You asked with a grin. His lips pressing another gentle kiss to yours. 

"Yup, but I need to undress first, I promise, you'll love it," he spoke with a wink. A small groan leaving his throat. Then he kissed and nipped at your neck. Both of you giggling at the way you gasped and yippee at the sensation of his teeth pinching your skin. 

He climbed off you. Leaving the room for the fresher. Leaving your mind to wander. What was this 'surprise'? The two of you had been together for forever, now. Yet he still had oh so many tricks up his sleeves. Was it a new tattoo? A toy? It was honest to the maker, hard telling with the man you fell in love with. 

"Jesse," you hummed out. Scooting further back onto the bed. "You need some help?" Your voice with soft and persuasive. A small smile pulling at your lips when you heard the way he seemed to speed up the way he removed the plastoid and fabric from his body. Along with the small curses falling from his lips. 

"Nope, almost done, cyare." 

The two of you hadn't done anything suggestive for quite a while now. So you could hear the desperation sneaking through his voice. The way you could hear him race to the fresher door and kick his armor aside with his feet. It made you smile quite fondly with how madly insane you could drive this man. 

The fresher door finally opened, and you were in shock, putting it mildly. Your eyes raked up his body. The way he leaned against the fresher door. One arm above his head on the door frame. Other resting on his hip. His one ankle crossed over the other, and that signature smirk plastered on his face. But that's not even what had you in shock.

"Surprised?" He asked. Using the hand on his hip to motion at his body. 

The man was wearing a set of navy blue lingerie. His chest was bare, besides the suspenders that hooked to the 'shorts' he was wearing. Covering the tiniest amount of his chest. 

"Surprised doesn't cover it, hot stuff," you quipped. Which only made him snicker. Your words which only fill his growing ego. 

"Well, now guess what?" He asked. One knee resting on the bed beside you. Mattress dipping once more. Leaning down to run a hand beneath our shirt. 

"What, handsome?" You purr, batting your eyelashes. 

"Now it's your turn to undress, unless you want another ripped outfit." 

[dakarimainink]

Rooftop Drinks

WARNING: Fluff, slight angst, smoochy smooch

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x Reader (You)

Wordcount: 1,7K

Note: Not betad, all mistakes are my own.

This is part 2 to the story Night Swim

Masterlist

It was the perfect summer day. The sun was setting behind the tall city buildings, setting the sky on fire and casting long shadows.

With a bottle of your favourite drink in hand, you admired the view from atop your apartment building. Your friend Michael had managed to unlock the door leading up to the roof, allowing you to have a small summer party with your closest friends. The soft hymns from the portable speaker set a relaxing mood. The scent of flowers and warmth made you smile.

“Hey, sorry we’re late.”

Your ears perked up at the familiar voice. You looked over your shoulder and saw Pedro walking through the rooftop door. Your heart fluttered and ached at the same time; it had been six years since you last saw him.

You admitted to yourself he looked just as good as last time, if not better, with a sharper jaw, slightly messy hair and trimmed beard. You had deliberately stayed away from movies you knew he had appeared in, mostly to stop yourself from longing for him, as the ache was too much.

Behind him came an unknown woman. You furrowed your brows at the sight of the young and beautiful woman with long silky-brown hair, pouty lips and shiny blue eyes. She almost clung to Pedro as they stepped onto the roof but threw herself around Sofia with a big bright smile.

“Sofia, it has been forever.” The young lady chimed.

You turned away to gaze back at the view over the city. You felt your heart ache. You didn’t even want to think about it, but you convinced yourself you were happy for him. After all, it had been six years since you last saw each other, even spoken with each other.

“Elle, let me introduce you to the group.” Sofia said. “Over there is Michael, Samantha, Anna and Jonathan, and over there is Y/N.”

You turned around at the sound of your name and quickly nodded at her, mostly out of courtesy. Your eyes were immediately caught by a pair of dark brown orbs staring right at you. You couldn’t hold back the smile stretching out your lips when he had caught your attention.

“Drinks are over there in the cooler.” Sofia added and guided both Elle and Pedro over.

You didn’t know if you should approach them or just stay put. You had missed him. A lot. A lingering pain within you for the past few years. You remember the first time your friends had asked you to join them to the cinema to see Pedro at the big screen, but you had declined, terrified it would be too much for you.

You decided to be the bigger person, you couldn’t continue to ache for a man that clearly wasn’t interested in being more than friends, except now he might not even be interested in that.

You shuffled your way over to your group of friends and sat down next to Anna. She clinked her bottle with yours and you took a sip.

“So tell us, Pedro, how’s New York been treating you?” Samantha asked eagerly.

He rubbed the back of his neck with a breathy chuckle. “Well, with a mix of hard work and luck I seem to have managed to make a somewhat name for myself.”

“I know! You were absolutely amazing in Game of Thrones.” Anna chimed in.

“Yeah dude, Oberyn Fuckin’ Martell.” Michael high fives Pedro with a proud smirk.

“Thanks guys. It’s been quite an adventure.” He admitted and smiled. “I have been missing you though.” His eyes wandered across all of them and stopped at you.

You felt your heart jump at his staring eyes and awkwardly gulped down your drink. A slight blush rose to your cheeks. Why did this man still have such an effect on you?

Sofia placed a deck of UNO cards and two board games on the table. “Let’s play some rounds.” She smiled.

After two hours of drinking, playing games and reminisce over past adventures, you had noticed Elle was clinging more and more onto Pedro. For each touch, giggle and smile, you felt a punch to your guts. You had considered to just leave the party, make up a lie you weren’t feeling well, but a part of you believed it would help you get over him, to see him happy with another woman.

You stood up from your chair and sauntered over to the cooler to grab another drink. Instead of walking back to the table, you walked over to the edge of the rooftop and sat down on the parapet.

“You’re not joining for next round, Y/N?” Anna called from the table.

You turned your head to look at them. “No, I’m out this round.” You reply and turn back your head again. Your eyes slid across the lit streetlights and the small black figures roaming the streets below.

“Hey.” The soft voice tickled your ears and you turned your head to look at Pedro. “This seat taken?” He gestured to the available space on the parapet next to you.

You smiled warmly. “No.”

He sat down next to you with a beer in hand. His eyes stayed on you before he turned to look at the city. “You’ve barely spoken all night, is everything okay?”

You keep your gaze at the tall buildings. “Everything is fine.” You fiddle with the bottle in your hands. “Elle seems like a really nice girl.” You mumbled.

He glanced over at the table before turning back to you. “Yeah, she is.” He replied. “How have you been? We literally haven’t spoken in six years.”

You looked up at him. “I’ve been good.” You lied, feeling that lingering ache in your heart. “And you?”

“I’ve been good, perhaps a bit miserable without you guys, but good. I am sorry I never texted you back, a lot happened and it all drowned away with the acting and then I got a new phone and number and lost all the contacts on my old phone.”

You looked back on the street below. “Don’t apologise, I understand.”

“But I need to apologise, Y/N. I’ve felt terrible the past years, especially the day we were going to meet up for coffee. I tried to call you but didn’t get through for some reason and I never had time to drop by the coffee shop due to me having to leave.”

“Pedro.” You breathed out and looked up at him again. “You don’t need to excuse what happened. I am glad you found success in New York; I am very happy for you.”

The silence lingered between the both of you. Neither sure on how to proceed. It was obvious to Pedro you felt some kind of resentment towards him. He took a sip from his beer and gazed out on the city again.

“Remember the night before I left?” He asked with a smile.

The corners of your lips quirked up at the memory. “Of course I do.”

“Remember I wanted to tell you something?”

“Yeah, I assume you wanted to tell me about New York.”

He turned his head towards you and his dark brown eyes scanned the side of your face. You turned to meet him.

“No.” He breathed out.

“No?”

He chuckled nervously. “I wanted to tell you; that I wanted to kiss you.”

Your jaw lowered at his words. Your heart sped up and you felt your consciousness almost blacked out.

“And I still do.” He admitted and swallowed thickly.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea considering your girlfriend is right over there.”

He furrowed his brows. “Who? Elle?” He sounded surprised. “She’s not my girlfriend, we work together and she is an old friend of Sofia.”

“Oh.” You felt like an idiot. You wanted to bury yourself in a deep black hole, never to return. “I am sorry, I thought…”

Pedro laughed deeply, his laughter vibrating through his chest. “It’s okay, I know she’s very clingy, it’s her way of coping with anxiety. She leans towards people she trusts.” He explained.

You lowered your gaze, feeling like a true idiot.

“But as I said, Y/N…” He placed a warm finger under your chin and lifted it up to meet his eyes. “I still want to kiss you.” While holding your gaze, he slowly leaned forward and stopped a mere inch from your lips. His breath hot breath brushed against your lips.

You leaned forward and lightly claimed his lips. It was soft and gentle, the feeling of longing resonating between you both. His fingers brushed along your jawline to the back of your neck and pulled you closer, deepening the kiss.

Your heart fluttered and a warmth enveloped your body as he parted your lips and begun a slow and erotic dance with your tongue. You lifted your hands and carefully intertwined your fingers in his dark locks.

He placed his other hand on top of your thigh and pulled you closer until your knees bumped. He ended the kiss and sighed out while admiring eyes scanned your features.

“I’ve missed you.” He whispered and tucked a loose hair strand behind your ear.

“I’ve missed you too.”

You smiled at each other. He grabbed your hands and stroked his thumbs across your knuckles. “Y/N, I want this to be something more and I want it to work.” He confessed and held your eyes. “I have wanted this for a long time.”

“Me too.” You admitted and your smile widened. “Let’s give it a try.”

His eyes lit up at your words before leaning forward and capturing your lips once more. One hand slid up to the back of your neck while the other were placed on your hip. He continued the dance between your tongues.

“About time.”

You pulled back and turned to find Jonathan looking at the both of you. Your cheeks burned red.

“I was wondering how long it would take for you to finally get together.” He winked, took a sip from his beer bottle and wandered off to the others.

You looked at Pedro again and chuckled. Jonathan was right, it was about time you finally made it.

(Wanna be added to my tag list for Pedro Pascal and his characters? Let me know.)

(taglist: @lazyunknownwerewolf @rrtxcmt @linnie0119)

[chrisevansluv]

Here is the 2012 Detail Magazine interview with chris evans:

The Avengers' Chris Evans: Just Your Average Beer-Swilling, Babe-Loving Buddhist

The 30-year-old Bud Light-chugging, Beantown-bred star of The Avengers is widely perceived as the ultimate guy's guy. But beneath the bro persona lies a serious student of Buddhism, an unrepentant song-and-dance man, and a guy who talks to his mom about sex. And farts.

By Adam Sachs,

Photographs by Norman Jean Roy

May 2012 Issue

"Should we just kill him and bury his body?" Chris Evans is stage whispering into the impassive blinking light of my digital recorder.

"Chris!" shouts his mother, her tone a familiar-to-anyone-with-a-mother mix of coddling and concern. "Don't say that! What if something happened?"

We're at Evans' apartment, an expansive but not overly tricked-out bachelor-pad-ish loft in a semi-industrial nowheresville part of Boston, hard by Chinatown, near an area sometimes called the Combat Zone. Evans has a fuzzy, floppy, slept-in-his-clothes aspect that'd be nearly unrecognizable if you knew him only by the upright, spit-polished bearing of the onscreen hero. His dog, East, a sweet and slobbery American bulldog, is spread out on a couch in front of the TV. The shelves of his fridge are neatly stacked with much of the world's supply of Bud Light in cans and little else.

On the counter sit a few buckets of muscle-making whey-protein powder that belong to Evans' roommate, Zach Jarvis, an old pal who sometimes tags along on set as a paid "assistant" and a personal trainer who bulked Evans up for his role as the super-ripped patriot in last summer's blockbuster Captain America: The First Avenger. A giant clock on the exposed-brick wall says it's early evening, but Evans operates on his own sense of time. Between gigs, his schedule's all his, which usually translates into long stretches of alone time during the day and longer social nights for the 30-year-old.

"I could just make this . . . disappear," says Josh Peck, another old pal and occasional on-set assistant, in a deadpan mumble, poking at the voice recorder I'd left on the table while I was in the bathroom.

Evans' mom, Lisa, now speaks directly into the microphone: "Don't listen to them—I'm trying to get them not to say these things!"

But not saying things isn't in the Evans DNA. They're an infectiously gregarious clan. Irish-Italians, proud Bostoners, close-knit, and innately theatrical. "We all act, we sing," Evans says. "It was like the fucking von Trapps." Mom was a dancer and now runs a children's theater. First-born Carly directed the family puppet shows and studied theater at NYU. Younger brother Scott has parts on One Life to Live and Law & Order under his belt and lives in Los Angeles full-time—something Evans stopped doing several years back. Rounding out the circle are baby sister Shanna and a pair of "strays" the family brought into their Sudbury, Massachusetts, home: Josh, who went from mowing the lawn to moving in when his folks relocated during his senior year in high school; and Demery, who was Evans' roommate until recently.

"Our house was like a hotel," Evans says. "It was a loony-tunes household. If you got arrested in high school, everyone knew: 'Call Mrs. Evans, she'll bail you out.'"

Growing up, they had a special floor put in the basement where all the kids practiced tap-dancing. The party-ready rec room also had a Ping-Pong table and a separate entrance. This was the house kids in the neighborhood wanted to hang at, and this was the kind of family you wanted to be adopted by. Spend an afternoon listening to them dish old dirt and talk over each other and it's easy to see why. Now they're worried they've said too much, laid bare the tender soul of the actor behind the star-spangled superhero outfit, so there's talk of offing the interviewer. I can hear all this from the bathroom, which, of course, is the point of a good stage whisper.

To be sure, no one's said too much, and the more you're brought into the embrace of this boisterous, funny, shit-slinging, demonstrably loving extended family, the more likable and enviable the whole dynamic is.

Sample exchange from today's lunch of baked ziti at a family-style Italian restaurant:

Mom: When he was a kid, he asked me, 'Mom, will I ever think farting isn't funny?'

Chris: You're throwing me under the bus, Ma! Thank you.

Mom: Well, if a dog farts you still find it funny.

Then, back at the apartment, where Mrs. Evans tries to give me good-natured dirt on her son without freaking him out:

Mom: You always tell me when you think a girl is attractive. You'll call me up so excited. Is that okay to say?

Chris: Nothing wrong with that.

Mom: And can I say all the girls you've brought to the house have been very sweet and wonderful? Of course, those are the ones that make it to the house. It's been a long time, hasn't it?

Chris: Looooong time.

Mom: The last one at our house? Was it six years ago?

Chris: No names, Ma!

Mom: But she knocked it out of the park.

Chris: She got drunk and puked at Auntie Pam's house! And she puked on the way home and she puked at our place.

Mom: And that's when I fell in love with her. Because she was real.

We're operating under a no-names rule, so I'm not asking if it's Jessica Biel who made this memorable first impression. She and Evans were serious for a couple of years. But I don't want to picture lovely Jessica Biel getting sick at Auntie Pam's or in the car or, really, anywhere.

East the bulldog ambles over to the table, begging for food.

"That dog is the love of his life," Mrs. Evans says. "Which tells me he'll be an unbelievable parent, but I don't want him to get married right now." She turns to Chris. "The way you are, I just don't think you're ready."

Some other things I learn about Evans from his mom: He hates going to the gym; he was so wound-up as a kid she'd let him stand during dinner, his legs shaking like caged greyhounds; he suffered weekly "Sunday-night meltdowns" over schoolwork and the angst of the sensitive middle-schooler; after she and his father split and he was making money from acting, he bought her the Sudbury family homestead rather than let her leave it.

Eventually his mom and Josh depart, and Evans and I go to work depleting his stash of Bud Light. It feels like we drink Bud Light and talk for days, because we basically do. I arrived early Friday evening; it's Saturday night now and it'll be sunup Sunday before I sleeplessly make my way to catch a train back to New York City. Somewhere in between we slip free of the gravitational pull of the bachelor pad and there's bottle service at a club and a long walk with entourage in tow back to Evans' apartment, where there is some earnest-yet-surreal group singing, piano playing, and chitchat. Evans is fun to talk to, partly because he's an open, self-mocking guy with an explosive laugh and no apparent need to sleep, and partly because when you cut just below the surface, it's clear he's not quite the dude's dude he sometimes plays onscreen and in TV appearances.

From a distance, Chris Evans the movie star seems a predictable, nearly inevitable piece of successful Hollywood packaging come to market. There's his major-release debut as the dorkily unaware jock Jake in the guilty pleasure Not Another Teen Movie (in one memorable scene, Evans has whipped cream on his chest and a banana up his ass). The female-friendly hunk appeal—his character in The Nanny Diaries is named simply Harvard Hottie—is balanced by a kind of casual-Friday, I'm-from-Boston regular-dudeness. Following the siren song of comic-book cash, he was the Human Torch in two Fantastic Four films. As with scrawny Steve Rogers, the Captain America suit beefed up his stature as a formidable screen presence, a bankable leading man, all of which leads us to The Avengers, this season's megabudget, megawatt ensemble in which he stars alongside Scarlett Johansson, Mark Ruffalo, Robert Downey Jr., and Chris Hemsworth.

It all feels inevitable—and yet it nearly didn't happen. Evans repeatedly turned down the Captain America role, fearing he'd be locked into what was originally a nine-picture deal. He was shooting Puncture, about a drug-addicted lawyer, at the time. Most actors doing small-budget legal dramas would jump at the chance to play the lead in a Marvel franchise, but Evans saw a decade of his life flash before his eyes.

What he remembers thinking is this: "What if the movie comes out and it's a success and I just reject all of this? What if I want to move to the fucking woods?"

By "the woods," he doesn't mean a quiet life away from the spotlight, some general metaphorical life escape route. He means the actual woods. "For a long time all I wanted for Christmas were books about outdoor survival," he says. "I was convinced that I was going to move to the woods. I camped a lot, I took classes. At 18, I told myself if I don't live in the woods by the time I'm 25, I have failed."

Evans has described his hesitation at signing on for Captain America. Usually he talks about the time commitment, the loss of what remained of his relative anonymity. On the junkets for the movie, he was open about needing therapy after the studio reduced the deal to six movies and he took the leap. What he doesn't usually mention is that he was racked with anxiety before the job came up.

"I get very nervous," Evans explains. "I shit the bed if I have to present something on stage or if I'm doing press. Because it's just you." He's been known to walk out of press conferences, to freeze up and go silent during the kind of relaxed-yet-high-stakes meetings an actor of his stature is expected to attend: "Do you know how badly I audition? Fifty percent of the time I have to walk out of the room. I'm naturally very pale, so I turn red and sweat. And I have to literally walk out. Sometimes mid-audition. You start having these conversations in your brain. 'Chris, don't do this. Chris, take it easy. You're just sitting in a room with a person saying some words, this isn't life. And you're letting this affect you? Shame on you.'"

Shades of "Sunday-night meltdowns." Luckily the nerves never follow him to the set. "You do your neuroses beforehand, so when they yell 'Action' you can be present," he says.

Okay, there was one on-set panic attack—while Evans was shooting Puncture. "We were getting ready to do a court scene in front of a bunch of people, and I don't know what happened," he says. "It's just your brain playing games with you. 'Hey, you know how we sometimes freak out? What if we did it right now?'"

One of the people who advised Evans to take the Captain America role was his eventual Avengers costar Robert Downey Jr. "I'd seen him around," Downey says. "We share an agent. I like to spend a lot of my free time talking to my agent about his other clients—I just had a feeling about him."

What he told Evans was: This puppy is going to be big, and when it is you're going to get to make the movies you want to make. "In the marathon obstacle course of a career," Downey says, "it's just good to have all the stats on paper for why you're not only a team player but also why it makes sense to support you in the projects you want to do—because you've made so much damned money for the studio."

There's also the fact that Evans had a chance to sign on for something likely to be a kind of watershed moment in the comic-book fascination of our time. "I do think The Avengers is the crescendo of this superhero phase in entertainment—except of course for Iron Man 3," Downey says. "It'll take a lot of innovation to keep it alive after this."

Captain America is the only person left who was truly close to Howard Stark, father of Tony Stark (a.k.a. Iron Man), which meant that Evans' and Downey's story lines are closely linked, and in the course of doing a lot of scenes together, they got to be pals. Downey diagnoses his friend with what he terms "low-grade red-carpet anxiety disorder."

"He just hates the game-show aspect of doing PR," Downey says. "Obviously there's pressure for anyone in this transition he's in. But he will easily triple that pressure to make sure he's not being lazy. That's why I respect the guy. I wouldn't necessarily want to be in his skin. But his motives are pure. He just needs to drink some red-carpet chamomile."

"The majority of the world is empty space," Chris Evans says, watching me as if my brain might explode on hearing this news—or like he might have to fight me if I try to contradict him. We're back at his apartment after a cigarette run through the Combat Zone.

"Empty space!" he says again, slapping the table and sort of yelling. Then, in a slow, breathy whisper, he repeats: "Empty space, empty space. All that we see in the world, the life, the animals, plants, people, it's all empty space. That's amazing!" He slaps the table again. "You want another beer? Gotta be Bud Light. Get dirty—you're in Boston. Okay, organize your thoughts. I gotta take a piss . . ."

My thoughts are this: That this guy who is hugging his dog and talking to me about space and mortality and the trouble with Boston girls who believe crazy gossip about him—this is not the guy I expected to meet. I figured he'd be a meatball. Though, truthfully, I'd never called anyone a meatball until Evans turned me on to the put-down. As in: "My sister Shanna dates meatballs." And, more to the point: "When I do interviews, I'd rather just be the beer-drinking dude from Boston and not get into the complex shit, because I don't want every meatball saying, 'So hey, whaddyathink about Buddhism?'"

At 17, Evans came across a copy of Hermann Hesse's Siddhartha and began his spiritual questing. It's a path of study and struggle that, he says, defines his true purpose in life. "I love acting. It's my playground, it lets me explore. But my happiness in this world, my level of peace, is never going to be dictated by acting," he says. "My goal in life is to detach from the egoic mind. Do you know anything about Eastern philosophy?"

I sip some Bud Light and shake my head sheepishly. "They talk about the egoic mind, the part of you that's self-aware, the watcher, the person you think is driving this machine," he says. "And that separation from self and mind is the root of suffering. There are ways of retraining the way you think. This isn't really supported in Western society, which is focused on 'Go get it, earn it, win it, marry it.'"

Scarlett Johansson says that one of the things she appreciates about Evans is how he steers clear of industry chat when they see each other. "Basically every actor," she says, "including myself, when we finish a job we're like, 'Well, that's it for me. Had a good run. Put me out to pasture.' But Chris doesn't strike me as someone who frets about the next job." The two met on the set of The Perfect Score when they were teenagers and have stayed close; The Avengers is their third movie together. "He has this obviously masculine presence—a dude's dude—and we're used to seeing him play heroic characters," Johansson says, "but he's also surprisingly sensitive. He has close female friends, and you can talk to him about anything. Plus there's that secret song-and-dance, jazz-hands side of Chris. I feel like he grew up with the Partridge Family. He'd be just as happy doing Guys and Dolls as he would Captain America 2."

East needs to do his business, so Evans and I take him up to the roof deck. Evans bought this apartment in 2010 when living in L.A. full-time no longer appealed to him. He came back to stay close to his extended family and the intimate circle of Boston pals he's maintained since high school. The move also seems like a pretty clear keep-it-real hedge against the manic ego-stroking distractions of Hollywood.

"I think my daytime person is different than my nighttime person," Evans says. "With my high-school buddies, we drink beer and talk sports and it's great. The kids in my Buddhism class in L.A., they're wildly intelligent, and I love being around them, but they're not talking about the Celtics. And that's part of me. It's a strange dichotomy. I don't mind being a certain way with some people and having this other piece of me that's just for me."

I asked Downey about Evans' outward regular-Joe persona. "It's complete horseshit," Downey says. "There's an inherent street-smart intelligence there. I don't think he tries to hide it. But he's much more evolved and much more culturally aware than he lets on."

Perhaps the meatball and the meditation can coexist. We argue about our egoic brains and the tao of Boston girls. "I love wet hair and sweatpants," he says in their defense. "I like sneakers and ponytails. I like girls who aren't so la-di-da. L.A. is so la-di-da. I like Boston girls who shit on me. Not literally. Girls who give me a hard time, bust my chops a little."

The chief buster of Evans' chops is, of course, Evans himself. "The problem is, the brain I'm using to dissect this world is a brain formed by it," he says. "We're born into confusion, and we get the blessing of letting go of it." Then he adds: "I think this shit by day. And then night comes and it's like, 'Fuck it, let's drink.'"

And so we do. It's getting late. Again. We should have eaten dinner, but Evans sometimes forgets to eat: "If I could just take a pill to make me full forever, I wouldn't think twice."

We talk about his dog and camping with his dog and why he loves being alone more than almost anything except maybe not being alone. "I swear to God, if you saw me when I am by myself in the woods, I'm a lunatic," he says. "I sing, I dance. I do crazy shit."

Evans' unflagging, all-encompassing enthusiasm is impressive, itself a kind of social intelligence. "If you want to have a good conversation with him, don't talk about the fact that he's famous" was the advice I got from Mark Kassen, who codirected Puncture. "He's a blast, a guy who can hang. For quite a long time. Many hours in a row."

I've stopped looking at the clock. We've stopped talking philosophy and moved into more emotional territory. He asks questions about my 9-month-old son, and then Captain America gets teary when I talk about the wonder of his birth. "I weep at everything," he says. "I emote. I love things so much—I just never want to dilute that."

He talks about how close he feels to his family, how open they all are with each other. About everything. All the time. "The first time I had sex," he says, "I raced home and was like, 'Mom, I just had sex! Where's the clit?'"

Wait, I ask—did she ever tell you?

"Still don't know where it is, man," he says, then breaks into a smile composed of equal parts shit-eating grin and inner peace. "I just don't know. Make some movies, you don't have to know…"

Here is the 2012 Detail Magazine interview with chris evans:

The Avengers' Chris Evans: Just Your Average Beer-Swilling, Babe-Loving Buddhist

The 30-year-old Bud Light-chugging, Beantown-bred star of The Avengers is widely perceived as the ultimate guy's guy. But beneath the bro persona lies a serious student of Buddhism, an unrepentant song-and-dance man, and a guy who talks to his mom about sex. And farts.

By Adam Sachs,

Photographs by Norman Jean Roy

May 2012 Issue

"Should we just kill him and bury his body?" Chris Evans is stage whispering into the impassive blinking light of my digital recorder.

"Chris!" shouts his mother, her tone a familiar-to-anyone-with-a-mother mix of coddling and concern. "Don't say that! What if something happened?"

We're at Evans' apartment, an expansive but not overly tricked-out bachelor-pad-ish loft in a semi-industrial nowheresville part of Boston, hard by Chinatown, near an area sometimes called the Combat Zone. Evans has a fuzzy, floppy, slept-in-his-clothes aspect that'd be nearly unrecognizable if you knew him only by the upright, spit-polished bearing of the onscreen hero. His dog, East, a sweet and slobbery American bulldog, is spread out on a couch in front of the TV. The shelves of his fridge are neatly stacked with much of the world's supply of Bud Light in cans and little else.

On the counter sit a few buckets of muscle-making whey-protein powder that belong to Evans' roommate, Zach Jarvis, an old pal who sometimes tags along on set as a paid "assistant" and a personal trainer who bulked Evans up for his role as the super-ripped patriot in last summer's blockbuster Captain America: The First Avenger. A giant clock on the exposed-brick wall says it's early evening, but Evans operates on his own sense of time. Between gigs, his schedule's all his, which usually translates into long stretches of alone time during the day and longer social nights for the 30-year-old.

"I could just make this . . . disappear," says Josh Peck, another old pal and occasional on-set assistant, in a deadpan mumble, poking at the voice recorder I'd left on the table while I was in the bathroom.

Evans' mom, Lisa, now speaks directly into the microphone: "Don't listen to them—I'm trying to get them not to say these things!"

But not saying things isn't in the Evans DNA. They're an infectiously gregarious clan. Irish-Italians, proud Bostoners, close-knit, and innately theatrical. "We all act, we sing," Evans says. "It was like the fucking von Trapps." Mom was a dancer and now runs a children's theater. First-born Carly directed the family puppet shows and studied theater at NYU. Younger brother Scott has parts on One Life to Live and Law & Order under his belt and lives in Los Angeles full-time—something Evans stopped doing several years back. Rounding out the circle are baby sister Shanna and a pair of "strays" the family brought into their Sudbury, Massachusetts, home: Josh, who went from mowing the lawn to moving in when his folks relocated during his senior year in high school; and Demery, who was Evans' roommate until recently.

"Our house was like a hotel," Evans says. "It was a loony-tunes household. If you got arrested in high school, everyone knew: 'Call Mrs. Evans, she'll bail you out.'"

Growing up, they had a special floor put in the basement where all the kids practiced tap-dancing. The party-ready rec room also had a Ping-Pong table and a separate entrance. This was the house kids in the neighborhood wanted to hang at, and this was the kind of family you wanted to be adopted by. Spend an afternoon listening to them dish old dirt and talk over each other and it's easy to see why. Now they're worried they've said too much, laid bare the tender soul of the actor behind the star-spangled superhero outfit, so there's talk of offing the interviewer. I can hear all this from the bathroom, which, of course, is the point of a good stage whisper.

To be sure, no one's said too much, and the more you're brought into the embrace of this boisterous, funny, shit-slinging, demonstrably loving extended family, the more likable and enviable the whole dynamic is.

Sample exchange from today's lunch of baked ziti at a family-style Italian restaurant:

Mom: When he was a kid, he asked me, 'Mom, will I ever think farting isn't funny?'

Chris: You're throwing me under the bus, Ma! Thank you.

Mom: Well, if a dog farts you still find it funny.

Then, back at the apartment, where Mrs. Evans tries to give me good-natured dirt on her son without freaking him out:

Mom: You always tell me when you think a girl is attractive. You'll call me up so excited. Is that okay to say?

Chris: Nothing wrong with that.

Mom: And can I say all the girls you've brought to the house have been very sweet and wonderful? Of course, those are the ones that make it to the house. It's been a long time, hasn't it?

Chris: Looooong time.

Mom: The last one at our house? Was it six years ago?

Chris: No names, Ma!

Mom: But she knocked it out of the park.

Chris: She got drunk and puked at Auntie Pam's house! And she puked on the way home and she puked at our place.

Mom: And that's when I fell in love with her. Because she was real.

We're operating under a no-names rule, so I'm not asking if it's Jessica Biel who made this memorable first impression. She and Evans were serious for a couple of years. But I don't want to picture lovely Jessica Biel getting sick at Auntie Pam's or in the car or, really, anywhere.

East the bulldog ambles over to the table, begging for food.

"That dog is the love of his life," Mrs. Evans says. "Which tells me he'll be an unbelievable parent, but I don't want him to get married right now." She turns to Chris. "The way you are, I just don't think you're ready."

Some other things I learn about Evans from his mom: He hates going to the gym; he was so wound-up as a kid she'd let him stand during dinner, his legs shaking like caged greyhounds; he suffered weekly "Sunday-night meltdowns" over schoolwork and the angst of the sensitive middle-schooler; after she and his father split and he was making money from acting, he bought her the Sudbury family homestead rather than let her leave it.

Eventually his mom and Josh depart, and Evans and I go to work depleting his stash of Bud Light. It feels like we drink Bud Light and talk for days, because we basically do. I arrived early Friday evening; it's Saturday night now and it'll be sunup Sunday before I sleeplessly make my way to catch a train back to New York City. Somewhere in between we slip free of the gravitational pull of the bachelor pad and there's bottle service at a club and a long walk with entourage in tow back to Evans' apartment, where there is some earnest-yet-surreal group singing, piano playing, and chitchat. Evans is fun to talk to, partly because he's an open, self-mocking guy with an explosive laugh and no apparent need to sleep, and partly because when you cut just below the surface, it's clear he's not quite the dude's dude he sometimes plays onscreen and in TV appearances.

From a distance, Chris Evans the movie star seems a predictable, nearly inevitable piece of successful Hollywood packaging come to market. There's his major-release debut as the dorkily unaware jock Jake in the guilty pleasure Not Another Teen Movie (in one memorable scene, Evans has whipped cream on his chest and a banana up his ass). The female-friendly hunk appeal—his character in The Nanny Diaries is named simply Harvard Hottie—is balanced by a kind of casual-Friday, I'm-from-Boston regular-dudeness. Following the siren song of comic-book cash, he was the Human Torch in two Fantastic Four films. As with scrawny Steve Rogers, the Captain America suit beefed up his stature as a formidable screen presence, a bankable leading man, all of which leads us to The Avengers, this season's megabudget, megawatt ensemble in which he stars alongside Scarlett Johansson, Mark Ruffalo, Robert Downey Jr., and Chris Hemsworth.

It all feels inevitable—and yet it nearly didn't happen. Evans repeatedly turned down the Captain America role, fearing he'd be locked into what was originally a nine-picture deal. He was shooting Puncture, about a drug-addicted lawyer, at the time. Most actors doing small-budget legal dramas would jump at the chance to play the lead in a Marvel franchise, but Evans saw a decade of his life flash before his eyes.

What he remembers thinking is this: "What if the movie comes out and it's a success and I just reject all of this? What if I want to move to the fucking woods?"

By "the woods," he doesn't mean a quiet life away from the spotlight, some general metaphorical life escape route. He means the actual woods. "For a long time all I wanted for Christmas were books about outdoor survival," he says. "I was convinced that I was going to move to the woods. I camped a lot, I took classes. At 18, I told myself if I don't live in the woods by the time I'm 25, I have failed."

Evans has described his hesitation at signing on for Captain America. Usually he talks about the time commitment, the loss of what remained of his relative anonymity. On the junkets for the movie, he was open about needing therapy after the studio reduced the deal to six movies and he took the leap. What he doesn't usually mention is that he was racked with anxiety before the job came up.

"I get very nervous," Evans explains. "I shit the bed if I have to present something on stage or if I'm doing press. Because it's just you." He's been known to walk out of press conferences, to freeze up and go silent during the kind of relaxed-yet-high-stakes meetings an actor of his stature is expected to attend: "Do you know how badly I audition? Fifty percent of the time I have to walk out of the room. I'm naturally very pale, so I turn red and sweat. And I have to literally walk out. Sometimes mid-audition. You start having these conversations in your brain. 'Chris, don't do this. Chris, take it easy. You're just sitting in a room with a person saying some words, this isn't life. And you're letting this affect you? Shame on you.'"

Shades of "Sunday-night meltdowns." Luckily the nerves never follow him to the set. "You do your neuroses beforehand, so when they yell 'Action' you can be present," he says.

Okay, there was one on-set panic attack—while Evans was shooting Puncture. "We were getting ready to do a court scene in front of a bunch of people, and I don't know what happened," he says. "It's just your brain playing games with you. 'Hey, you know how we sometimes freak out? What if we did it right now?'"

One of the people who advised Evans to take the Captain America role was his eventual Avengers costar Robert Downey Jr. "I'd seen him around," Downey says. "We share an agent. I like to spend a lot of my free time talking to my agent about his other clients—I just had a feeling about him."

What he told Evans was: This puppy is going to be big, and when it is you're going to get to make the movies you want to make. "In the marathon obstacle course of a career," Downey says, "it's just good to have all the stats on paper for why you're not only a team player but also why it makes sense to support you in the projects you want to do—because you've made so much damned money for the studio."

There's also the fact that Evans had a chance to sign on for something likely to be a kind of watershed moment in the comic-book fascination of our time. "I do think The Avengers is the crescendo of this superhero phase in entertainment—except of course for Iron Man 3," Downey says. "It'll take a lot of innovation to keep it alive after this."

Captain America is the only person left who was truly close to Howard Stark, father of Tony Stark (a.k.a. Iron Man), which meant that Evans' and Downey's story lines are closely linked, and in the course of doing a lot of scenes together, they got to be pals. Downey diagnoses his friend with what he terms "low-grade red-carpet anxiety disorder."

"He just hates the game-show aspect of doing PR," Downey says. "Obviously there's pressure for anyone in this transition he's in. But he will easily triple that pressure to make sure he's not being lazy. That's why I respect the guy. I wouldn't necessarily want to be in his skin. But his motives are pure. He just needs to drink some red-carpet chamomile."

"The majority of the world is empty space," Chris Evans says, watching me as if my brain might explode on hearing this news—or like he might have to fight me if I try to contradict him. We're back at his apartment after a cigarette run through the Combat Zone.

"Empty space!" he says again, slapping the table and sort of yelling. Then, in a slow, breathy whisper, he repeats: "Empty space, empty space. All that we see in the world, the life, the animals, plants, people, it's all empty space. That's amazing!" He slaps the table again. "You want another beer? Gotta be Bud Light. Get dirty—you're in Boston. Okay, organize your thoughts. I gotta take a piss . . ."

My thoughts are this: That this guy who is hugging his dog and talking to me about space and mortality and the trouble with Boston girls who believe crazy gossip about him—this is not the guy I expected to meet. I figured he'd be a meatball. Though, truthfully, I'd never called anyone a meatball until Evans turned me on to the put-down. As in: "My sister Shanna dates meatballs." And, more to the point: "When I do interviews, I'd rather just be the beer-drinking dude from Boston and not get into the complex shit, because I don't want every meatball saying, 'So hey, whaddyathink about Buddhism?'"

At 17, Evans came across a copy of Hermann Hesse's Siddhartha and began his spiritual questing. It's a path of study and struggle that, he says, defines his true purpose in life. "I love acting. It's my playground, it lets me explore. But my happiness in this world, my level of peace, is never going to be dictated by acting," he says. "My goal in life is to detach from the egoic mind. Do you know anything about Eastern philosophy?"

I sip some Bud Light and shake my head sheepishly. "They talk about the egoic mind, the part of you that's self-aware, the watcher, the person you think is driving this machine," he says. "And that separation from self and mind is the root of suffering. There are ways of retraining the way you think. This isn't really supported in Western society, which is focused on 'Go get it, earn it, win it, marry it.'"

Scarlett Johansson says that one of the things she appreciates about Evans is how he steers clear of industry chat when they see each other. "Basically every actor," she says, "including myself, when we finish a job we're like, 'Well, that's it for me. Had a good run. Put me out to pasture.' But Chris doesn't strike me as someone who frets about the next job." The two met on the set of The Perfect Score when they were teenagers and have stayed close; The Avengers is their third movie together. "He has this obviously masculine presence—a dude's dude—and we're used to seeing him play heroic characters," Johansson says, "but he's also surprisingly sensitive. He has close female friends, and you can talk to him about anything. Plus there's that secret song-and-dance, jazz-hands side of Chris. I feel like he grew up with the Partridge Family. He'd be just as happy doing Guys and Dolls as he would Captain America 2."

East needs to do his business, so Evans and I take him up to the roof deck. Evans bought this apartment in 2010 when living in L.A. full-time no longer appealed to him. He came back to stay close to his extended family and the intimate circle of Boston pals he's maintained since high school. The move also seems like a pretty clear keep-it-real hedge against the manic ego-stroking distractions of Hollywood.

"I think my daytime person is different than my nighttime person," Evans says. "With my high-school buddies, we drink beer and talk sports and it's great. The kids in my Buddhism class in L.A., they're wildly intelligent, and I love being around them, but they're not talking about the Celtics. And that's part of me. It's a strange dichotomy. I don't mind being a certain way with some people and having this other piece of me that's just for me."

I asked Downey about Evans' outward regular-Joe persona. "It's complete horseshit," Downey says. "There's an inherent street-smart intelligence there. I don't think he tries to hide it. But he's much more evolved and much more culturally aware than he lets on."

Perhaps the meatball and the meditation can coexist. We argue about our egoic brains and the tao of Boston girls. "I love wet hair and sweatpants," he says in their defense. "I like sneakers and ponytails. I like girls who aren't so la-di-da. L.A. is so la-di-da. I like Boston girls who shit on me. Not literally. Girls who give me a hard time, bust my chops a little."

The chief buster of Evans' chops is, of course, Evans himself. "The problem is, the brain I'm using to dissect this world is a brain formed by it," he says. "We're born into confusion, and we get the blessing of letting go of it." Then he adds: "I think this shit by day. And then night comes and it's like, 'Fuck it, let's drink.'"

And so we do. It's getting late. Again. We should have eaten dinner, but Evans sometimes forgets to eat: "If I could just take a pill to make me full forever, I wouldn't think twice."

We talk about his dog and camping with his dog and why he loves being alone more than almost anything except maybe not being alone. "I swear to God, if you saw me when I am by myself in the woods, I'm a lunatic," he says. "I sing, I dance. I do crazy shit."

Evans' unflagging, all-encompassing enthusiasm is impressive, itself a kind of social intelligence. "If you want to have a good conversation with him, don't talk about the fact that he's famous" was the advice I got from Mark Kassen, who codirected Puncture. "He's a blast, a guy who can hang. For quite a long time. Many hours in a row."

I've stopped looking at the clock. We've stopped talking philosophy and moved into more emotional territory. He asks questions about my 9-month-old son, and then Captain America gets teary when I talk about the wonder of his birth. "I weep at everything," he says. "I emote. I love things so much—I just never want to dilute that."

He talks about how close he feels to his family, how open they all are with each other. About everything. All the time. "The first time I had sex," he says, "I raced home and was like, 'Mom, I just had sex! Where's the clit?'"

Wait, I ask—did she ever tell you?

"Still don't know where it is, man," he says, then breaks into a smile composed of equal parts shit-eating grin and inner peace. "I just don't know. Make some movies, you don't have to know…"

If someone doesn't want to check the link, the anon sent the full interview!

[buckbarnesjames]

Chapter One (Updated)

Summary: “If I cannot get it right now, I don’t want it at all”.

Pairings: Bucky x Reader

Warnings: discussions of sugar daddy/sugar baby relationships. swearing. discussions of sex. 

Word Count: 2216

A/N: Hey guys, I’ll be back to writing this soon as inspiration has hit again, I’m just updating the previous chapters! I had to repost this one as I couldn’t find the original post to edit it. Please enjoy and as always, feedback is welcomed. The taglist is OPEN so feel free to ask to be tagged! 

Masterlist | Series Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Bucky spent the rest of Friday afternoon mulling over how to broach the subject with you. He didn't want to make you uncomfortable in the work environment, but he had secretly always dreamed of having a more personal relationship with you and it wasn’t as if he was new to the sugar baby/sugar daddy dynamic - in fact, he rather enjoyed it. Eventually, he decides to let it go for now and think more about it over the weekend. Meanwhile, whilst Bucky is preparing to spend the weekend overthinking his predicament, you’re preparing to spend time with Nat and Wanda.

Saturday evening you meet them for drinks at a popular nightclub. “Hey, sugar baby” Nat teases you. You roll your eyes and stick your tongue out at her. “Enough of that, Natalia. I told you to drop it” you sass back at her. After a few more minutes of teasing from Nat and Wanda, they finally drop the subject. The waiter approaches your table and you order a round for you and the girls - a Cosmopolitan for Wanda, a white Russian for Nat and a Daiquiri in your favourite flavour for yourself. After a few rounds, you’re feeling brave enough to hit the dance floor.

You and the girls dance close together, the feeling of the bass pumping through your ears. You feel a pair of eyes watching you but brush it off and continue to dance. Halfway through the next song, you feel Nat’s hands on your waist as she leans in close enough that you’re able to hear you, “Hey...isn’t that Mr Barnes?” she says, tilting her head in the direction of the bar. Sure enough, there he is and he’s watching you rather intently. “Let’s give our boss a show, shall we?” she says before spinning you around. You throw your head back laughing, the alcohol probably clouding your judgement, and try to scold her in between giggles. You and the girls dance for a while, with Nat periodically confirming that Mr Barnes - and his friend - are indeed watching you.

Eventually the dancing wears you out, and you all head back to your booth. The waiter approaches again with a fresh round when he notices you all taking your seats. As he places the final drink down, he points towards the bar where Bucky and his friend previously stood, “The gentleman over there would like a moment of your time” he says, smiling knowingly. You look over to see that he’s still there along with his friend, who you now recognise is his business partner, Steve Rogers, nursing glasses of whiskey. As if he can sense your eyes on him, he looks up at you and smiles.

“I’ll be back in a moment” you say to Nat and Wanda. They look between you and Bucky in surprise before Nat drunkenly declares, “Uh oh, you’re in trouble” and giggles. Wanda tries to shush her whilst motioning for you to go as you stand there nervously tugging your dress down, which you now feel is way too short, and taking a long sip of your drink.

You approach Bucky and Steve, “Mr Barnes, are you trying to proposition me?” You joke, the fresh drink in your system giving you a little confidence. If only you had an idea of the thought that had swirled around his mind all day. He had originally called you over to discuss the conversation he had overheard, the alcohol in his system impairing his judgement, but now that you’re standing in front of him he can’t get the words out so instead chuckles at your joke. “Of course not, Miss Y/L/N. I just wanted to offer you a drink, you've worked hard this week” he smiles at you and awaits your answer as you try to ignore your brain suggesting that he’s also referring to the little dance show earlier.

“I appreciate that, Mr Barnes, but we were just about to leave.” Bucky looks a little disappointed at your reply. “Maybe another time though?” you smile at him brightly before realising what you had said. You could feel embarrassment coursing through your body. You had no idea why you’d suggested grabbing a drink with your boss. You excuse yourself quickly after that and head home with the girls, missing the way Bucky smoothes his tongue over his lips. You looked good in that dress.

“Is that the girl you were talking about? Your assistant?” Steve interrupts the tirade of dirty thoughts racing through his mind, and he’s grateful. He shouldn’t be thinking about you like that. The whole sugar baby/sugar daddy thing was a ridiculous idea, a momentary lapse in his judgement. He nods at Steve in reply and downs his whiskey, ordering another one as he places his glass down on the bar. “You have it bad, dude” Steve laughs and Bucky scowls at him. “I can see why, but I prefer redheads” Steve continues joking, looking to the exit as you, Wanda and Nat leave. “Nat would eat you alive, pretty boy. She’s ruthless and that’s why she’s head of the finance department” Bucky bites back. Steve laughs and proudly declares that he could handle her, to which Bucky continuously denies for the rest of the night as Steve tries to convince him to give him Nat’s number.

You arrive on time to work on Monday, your car having spent the weekend in the garage, and the next few days pass by in a blur of meetings, business proposals and coffee making. You don’t see much of Bucky through the week but put it down to the time of year and not the encounter you’d had with him Saturday night. You knew he was probably planning the end of month gala to celebrate acquiring an important business deal. Before you know it, Thursday arrives.

Bucky is working late again. As usual, you’d order him some food and placed it on his desk. You’re packing your bag to head home when Bucky enters the office, closing the door behind him. “Miss Y/L/N, could I talk to you for a moment?” he says, his tone serious and you begin to worry that you’ve done something wrong. “Of course, Mr Barnes. Is everything okay? I haven’t messed something up have I?” you ramble on. You couldn’t afford to lose this job, the pay was great and allowed you to live comfortably in a decent Manhattan apartment. “Y/N,” Bucky interrupts your inner monologue, “Everything’s fine. I just wanted to talk to you about a conversation I overheard the other week.” Your stomach drops. Oh, shit. He’d heard you, Nat and Wanda.

You look to the floor, embarrassed. “Mr Barnes, I can explain…” Bucky interrupts you again, this time by placing his finger under your chin and lifting your head so your graze meets his. You gasp at the contact. Bucky had never been this informal with you before. “You’re not in trouble, Y/N. In fact, I found the conversation rather interesting.” Bucky says, removing his hand from underneath your chin once he’s sure you won’t break eye contact. “Look, I’ve been thinking about this for the past week and I don’t want to overstep any boundaries but well, If I don’t ask then I’ll never know.”

“Thinking about what, Mr Barnes?” You look at him in confusion, your head tilted slightly to the left. Bucky finds the action endearing. You look so innocent. He takes a deep breath before speaking again, “Look, you know as well as anybody around here that If I can’t get what I want right now, then I don’t want it and well right now… I want you. I want you in the capacity that you and your friends were talking about on Friday.” Bucky hears as you sharply inhale. “You mean, you want me as...as your sugar baby?” you ask, your voice an octave higher than usual. Bucky chuckles softly at your nervousness. “Yes, Y/N. You’re free to say no, I’ll never broach the subject again and we can continue to work together in a professional capacity but...I’d really like it if you were to say yes”.

“Why me?” you ask. You don’t know why but it’s the only thing you can say. For some reason, your feet aren’t carrying you out of the office and home as fast as possible, like you’d wished when this conversation had begun. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that you’d secretly fantasized about your attractive boss since the moment you began working at Barnes Industries. “I have more money than I have sense, Y/N, and if I’ve gotta spend it on someone other than myself then I choose the beautiful girl who has sat at the desk across from me for the past two years”. Bucky watches you, surveying your reaction. He was pushing the boundaries so far right now but god, he hadn’t been able to get this idea out of his head all week. “Beautiful?” You ask, as if that was the most ridiculous thing he had said in the last five minutes. “Beautiful” he says firmly.

“How would this even work, Mr Barnes?” you ask, the wheels in your head are spinning a thousand miles and hour and you can’t stop yourself from entertaining the idea. BUcky smiles and you see him visibly relax. He pulls a recognisable Tiffany & Co box out of the pocket of his suit pants. “Well...if you were to agree, I’d love for you to accept this gift and wear it every day around the office.” He opens the box to reveal a drop pendant with five, shining stones. You gasp at the simplistic beauty of it. “And what then...if I accept?” you whisper. You had no idea why you were whispering, you knew that you and Bucky were alone in the office. “If you were to accept, I would take you on an initial spending spree and buy you whatever clothes, shoes and products you desired. I would then give you a weekly allowance of an agreed upon amount” Bucky says, his tone similar to the one he uses in business meetings. “And what would you require from me?” you ask. He knows what you’re implying. “You wouldn’t have to do anything you were uncomfortable with. I’d require your company at any events I have to attend and I would love to spend time with you outside of the work environment, taking you to dinner and things but that would only happen if you wanted it to” he answers, watching as a mixture of emotions flash across your face - surprise, confusion and relief. It stings a little when he recognises the look of relief on your face, he’d always been attracted to you and hoped the feeling was mutual.

“This is all so sudden, James” given the situation, you address him informally. His heart flutters at the way you say his name. “I know, and you don’t have to agree but if you decide this is something you want...then text this number before eight tomorrow morning and I’ll send a car for you” he says and he hands you a card with a cellphone number that you don’t recognise.”It’s my drivers number” he answers the question he can see formulating in your mind. You smile, knowing he’d given you that number because his personal phone tended not to be charged unless you’d done it. “I’ll let you go home now and think about things,” he says, taking a step back from you and giving you some breathing room. You silently pick your bag up and make your way to the door of the office, with shaky legs. You turn back to look at him offering him a small smile and a “Goodnight, Mr Barnes”.

You toss and turn all night, mulling the idea over. It wasn’t like you needed the money, Barnes Industries paid you well - probably above the national salary of an executive assistant - but the idea of spending time with Bucky in a more personal way was gnawing at your mind. It was no secret between you and your friends that you had always harbored a little crush on him, and now he was practically on his hands and knees in front of you offering himself - and his money - to you. You get out of bed at seven AM, deciding there was no point in lying around any longer. You get dressed for the day quickly and attempt to eat some breakfast but the nervousness in your stomach doesn’t allow you to eat much so you just drink a coffee and eat a few spoonfuls of oatmeal. You pick up your phone and the piece of paper Bucky had given you last night and take a deep breath before typing out the words that would change your life forever.

I thought about it, Mr Barnes. You type out, clicking send immediately after - giving yourself no chance to change your mind for the millionth time. And what did you decide, Miss Y/L/N? The reply is instant, as if he had been waiting around all morning for you to come to a decision. You quickly type and send your reply.

Yes.

[karlajoyner]

Stole My Heart Part 2 (Owen Patrick Joyner x Reader)

A/n: Hey guys! I know it’s short and I could have definitely gone in way deeper in the smut but I just don’t know how much you guys want to read into that! So comment and let me knowww also I want to know if you guys think I should start a tag list if so let me know as well so I could put you down for it! And finally send in some requests!!!

Warnings: Somewhat Sexual (16+)

————

"You can't be serious Jules" I spoke sitting up from my spot besides Jeremy.

"Do you know how much trouble I'll get into if I get caught?"

"I told you guys she wouldn't do it" Owen said standing up from his spot.

"But no one ever listens to me"

"Come on y/c/n! Julie and the Phantoms needs a manager for the night. Someone to talk business read over the contracts were probably gonna get offered tonight. We need you there" Charlie pleaded standing on the coffee table.

"What about Flynn? Her parents won't kill her for going out on a school night"

"Flynn doesn't know a thing about contracts you took college classes on business"

"Because I had to. I'm just as much of a high schooler as you Jules. I don't understand a thing"

"Says the girl with a 4.5 gpa. I didn't even know the numbers got that high"

"Because your gpa was 2.1" Owen spoke in a sarcastic tone earning a glare from Charlie.

"Look y/c/n you don't have to do it if you don't want to" Jer said taking my hands in his.

"All we're saying is if you did this. For the sake of the band, we'd really appreciate it. You know this is a big night for Julie and the Phantoms. The band. Your boyfriends in might I add" Jeremy spoke giving me puppy dog eyes. I turned to the side noting everyone with hopeful looks in their eyes.

"Seriously? You send in Reggie when all else fails?" I asked.

"Depends. Did it work?" Owen asked figgeting with his fingers. I sighed watching their faces deflate in defeat waiting for the no.

"I-I don't know how I'm gonna sneak out on a school night but I'll be there" I spoke watching my cast mates faces light up as they all jumped up in happiness.

"Yes!" Madison yelled jumping up to come hug me.

"I owe you big time"

"You're my best friend Jules. I'd do anything for you. You know that"

"But you did this for me too right" Jeremy asked extending his arms out for me.

"Of course Reggie. You know I can't resist those puppy dog eyes" I spoke walking into his hug. I smiled as I felt him place a kiss to my forehead.

A worried look plastered itself on my face as we pulled away. Quickly uplifting myself I turned back to the rest of the group. Owen and Charlie dancing happily.

"Julie and the Phantoms is so getting signed tonight! And it's all thanks to you y/c/n!" Charlie yelled high fiving Owen.

"Cut!" Kenny yelled.

A smile forming on my face as we all were able to break character.

"Come on babe we need to disinfect you" Owen said jokingly wiping away the spot Jeremy had kissed making everyone laugh out loud.

"Hey! Be lucky I didn't aim for the lips Joyner"

"There right here Jer!" Owen yelled puckering his own lips making me burst out in laughter as his arms wrapped around my waist.

I waited for everyone to disperse for lunch before turning to look up at my boyfriend who already had his eyes on me.

"Hey you"

"Hey you" He repeated smiling at me.

"Your a dork you know that?"

"And your hot. You know something about you acting just-"

"Turns you on?" I giggled feeling something poking at my leg.

"Seriously Owen it's like 12:00 o'clock in the morning and your horny"

"Have you seen yourself? Look it's lunch and no ones in Julie's room. We'll be quick" He whispered placing a kiss behind my ear.

"Seriously?" I whispered yelled.

"Come on baby please. I need you so bad right now" Owen said pulling me closer of it was even possible. I slightly groaned feeling his hard on press deeper into my thigh.

"What if we get caught?" I asked looking around to make sure no one was paying attention to us.

"We won't" He insisted.

"What is it with you and that set?" I asked dragging him towards the house making sure not to look suspicious.

"Maybe it's cause I never got to screw you in it" He whispered in my ear as we entered it.

Quietness filling the air. We hurriedly rushed upstairs knowing we didn't have a lot of time before people questioned where we were.

"Owen" I moaned as he pushed me up against the door not even waiting until we were inside to attack my neck.

"Mmm" He mumbled against my skin. Fumbling with the door knob behind me.

As soon as it was opened he hoisted me off the floor walking into the room. I began to nip at his neck knowing Sonya was gonna have a field day with him for the one.

"Really babe? A hickey" He panted shutting the door behind him with his foot.

"It's called payback" I said before he tossed me onto the bed immediately removing his shirt.

"In a rush?" I asked biting my lip.

"We don't have time for foreplay baby" He said tugging on my shirt as well. I sighed realizing he was right. He was quick to remove the his jeans and boxers not wasting any time.

Making sure to be as quiet as possible was a task when we could be caught at any moment. But it was definitely worth it.

We walked out of the house trying to not look suspicious. Realizing a few people had already begun returning to set for the next scene.

"Y/n!" I heard a familiar voice.

"Jadah!" I smiled at the young girl who ran up to hug me.

"Hey Owen" She said as she pulled away.

"Hi" He said waving slightly.

"Sacha told me I'd probably find you two together. I was wondering if we could run some lines together later. You know for our scene"

"Of course" I smiled.

"Hey guys" Charlie said walking up with Jeremy by his side.

"Woah guys you look rough" Jeremy spoke towards us.

"Yeah I think you should head back to hair and makeup before the next scene" Jadah commented as well.

My eyes widened really in taking Owens look. His hair was tousled, he looked like he was glistening under bright lights, and he just appeared completely disheveled.

As soon as Charlie noticed my face realization hit him.

"Don't" I muttered pointing out that Jadah was here and it was not the time.

"Don't what?" The girl asked.

"Nothing, nothing"

"It's obviously something. I know you'll tell me later so I'm just gonna go find mads" She smiled before skipping away. As soon as she was out of earshot I heard Charlie begin to laugh.

"Seriously?" He asked earning a confused look from Jeremy and Owen.

"What?" Jer asked.

"You can't tell dude? Look at them" Charlie spoke pointing towards us.

Jeremy took a step back taking in our appearance as my cheeks began to burn.

"Where?" He asked once he realized what had happened.

"You don't wanna know"

"Why not?"

"Because we still have a few more scenes to film in there" I spoke as Owen wrapped an arm around my waist.

"How'd you get her to do it?" Charlie asked the blonde who just smirked.

"It didn't take a lot of convincing"

"Owen" I scolded him.

"Sorry" He said sheepishly.

"Geez guys you just couldn't wait til later when we're not in the middle of filming"

"We were on a break" As soon as Owen said that Kenny came up to us breaking our conversation.

"Hey guys. So were shooting the skate scene next. We need a new board replacement for Julie's bedframe. The old one broke somehow so I'll see you boys in a bit" Kenny spoke before leaving.

My eyes widened along with Owens. Knowing Charlie and Jeremy were never gonna let us live this down.

[certifiedceraunophile]

Hi! A fan of your writing here. I just love the way you write Caroline. An Avoidable Heart is my comfort fic and I am constantly in awe with the way you write and craft the dynamics in that story. Caroline's inner monologue is just priceless and God! I just love that intro scene where Caroline is walking into the Mikaelson compound with vampires and hybrids in the surrounding ready to pounce on her.

I would love to hear how you would have visualized Caroline crossing over into TO or not? Like in what season and why? How it would have likely gone?

Thank you!

First of all lovely anon gimme a moment to breathe, asdfghjkl why are people so lovely 😭😭🥺✨ It means sooo much to me that you’d take the time to jump into my inbox and send these kind words, like please I’m not worthyyyyy, But you make me smile and feel really freaking warm so *handcuffs your hand to mine* you aint leaving 💖✨💞🙃

But OK ALSO oh my god dude THAT CAROLINE WALTZS INTO THE COMPOUND AND TAKES ON A COUPLE HUNDRED VAMPIRES BY HERSELF SCENE???? Ughhhhh I’m sorry but I have SUCH a boner for Caroline in that, like my badass -I admit kinda op- QUEEN IS HERE and she’s fucking shit up, I’m sorry but I love that scene so much it’s so dear to me I was killing myself over how self-indulgent and grossly Over powered Caroline is but like idgaf man it’s such a hot scene and Caroline is practically invincible and we just love to see that, so seriously lovely anon, you telling me you LOVE that scene??? Puts the biggest smile on my face and reassures me a LOT bc I was whining and cribbing over how absolutely unbalanced that scene is to literally everyone BUT LIKE YOU JUMPING OUT OF NOWHERE and pointing that exact scene UGHH…...meant to fucking be the both of us 💖💞✨

And ALSO Caroline’s monologue is quite honestly the easiest inner monologue out of the three voices I wrote for that work, Klaus’s is the real pain in the ass tbvh like it is NOT easy writing pretentious besotted losers with a Kardashian complex especially when you need to make them sound cool when they’re the lamest OP dude bros to ever exist - and no I don’t hate Klaus although I seem to try my darndest to convince ppl I do- I just personally believe that a feral fucker like that with a thousand years of existence under his belt can grow a pair and graduate from his kindergarten level of emotional maturity to adult sometime soon, But then on the flipside he’s so grossly adorkably smitten and feral for Caroline plus hella horny for her all the time that its usually easy to write the trashed and devoted idiot he is into something pretentious and powerful and potent when relating to his unflappable arrogance and his narcissism, but sometimes I also need him to be *deep* and ffs profound for the sake of the plot and jfc my muse just wont work with me on that, she’s like I’m sorry I’m not about to bust my ass to make this mongrel intelligible like no sir all I wanna do is make him uncomfortably horny for Caroline and leave him like that.

So smh yeah the struggle is real….but lmao Caroline is just so precious and fiercely protective and just so achingly lonely in that story, so desperate for connection and trust and intimacy yet so guarded and impervious to everyone like it hurts me to write her like that but it really challenges me as an author to balance out her inherent light with the “void” I create in her and through her, so yeah it’s a very fulfilling task and I wouldnt change it one bit, and also I had to balance out her physical op-ness w half a millennium of the ugliest emotional trauma lol so I guess that figures, but the point being….once again I am overjoyed knowing that you liked a facet of the story that I tried so hard to make as authentically Caroline and achingly real and moving as I can and I cannot possibly feel more accomplished than rn for it so ty ty ty ty for reaching out to me and telling me *tackle hugs* It makes me GIDDY knowing that you enjoyed that particular part of the story like ugh stab me please you're too sweet.

And ok NOW, coming to The Originals part of the ask, (also please note that when I say TO headcanon; Hope does not exist, Hayley is a dead in a ditch and ofc Klaus will stop being that lil bitch they tried to pawn off as Klaus in TO) 

HEADCANON 1

Honestly my biggest headcanon when it comes to TO crossovers somehow always include non-humanity!Caroline like it’s just so perfect to me?? The opportunity to make shit BLOW UP b/w them like imagine the DEBAUCHERY, the heat, the SEXUAL TENSION, the repression of one Klaus Mikaelson, the EXPLORATIONS, and omg the role reversal when Klaus has to be the voice of moral reason between them and not bc he believes Caroline would not be able to stand herself if she does something heinous and monstrous but bc he wants her to be completely and utterly herself, and yk *aware*, when she DECIMATES ppl to the ground and is in full-on predator mode, like he wants her monster to come out and play with him when no part of Caroline is locked away or suppressed, so obviously when she is w/o her humanity KLAUS exercises restraint on her behalf, like can you imagine that, Klaus restraining himself and being the vague, extremely broken and just largely inaccurate moral compass between the two of them for ALL the wrong reasons- and the entirety of NOLA just standing there watching him herd this baby vampire who seems to be intent on riling him up and angering him when all she is doing is giving him a massive hybrid hard on, like IMAGINE THE GOODNESS of non-humanity Caroline wrecking NOLA and Klaus letting her wreck it bc he is helpless in the face of Caroline Forbes and also bc he is quite honestly *enjoying* the debauchery himself so why put a damper on the festivities.

-I might wanna add that I favour this headcanon a lot bc I genuinely do not even remotely *like* the idea of NOLA as Klaus's chosen place to set his roots so like I would love Caroline going to NOLA and destroying everything there just bc I detest NOLA and the storyline behind it in TO. (yes is it petty? Obvi, but like I am a petty soul and I make no apologies ma’am)

HEADCANON 2

So yeah that’s my main TO headcanon, but my other one being, one I talk about very frequently, scream about in tag rants to an obsessive level, and like this is a cracky one but still very valid, where Caroline rolls up to NOLA humanity intact and all, finds Hayley preggo and is just laughing her fucking ass off bc anybody ANYBODY, with half a brain and a two minute convo w klaus would know how UTTERLY stupid the entire baby shit is especially when it’s with an immemorable one night stand, and Caroline’s just losing her shit about how like an entire city is obssessed w this baby and she just straight up tells Klaus he’d SUCK as a dad (which he really does tho like he was a shitty fucking dad canonically too) and Klaus is just like *sigh* girl tell me about it. I mean basically he’s finally relieved that someone is on his side about the whole baby thing and how he definitely does not want his entire millennium of life to finally sum up to this one squalling leaking stinky infant/unicorn Hayley is apparently baking in her oven, and I say this headcanon is cracky bc klaus would never have put up w this mess long enough for Caroline to come in and sort it out, there’s this preferred method of disposal of his called heart ripping that would've been employed quite early on and honestly saved us all a lot of brain cells and minused years of life, bc let’s be real any Klaus who’s NOT a lil snivelling bitch wearing a Klaus skinsuit would’ve yeeted the baby and the mama first chance he got, and that’s just how I see it.

Lmao I really hope I didnt scare you away w my *strong* opinions Ik they can be a bit much but I enjoy having them so theyre not going anywhere, anyways this ask answer got WAYYYY too long but I’m hoping I answered your question well with this or atleast left you slightly confused and bemused over my feral screaming....either ways I’m really really really happy to have got your ask and the chance to rant so much bs, Twas cathartic and honestly I had nothing to do today so I was more than happy to dish this baby out for you. Thank you so much sweet anon for putting a smile on my face today I am absolutely HONOURED by your words you’sa cutie 💖💞✨🗣🗣

[blueaura]

Lost and Found Ch. 8

A/N: Hello again! This chapter is a little shorter than the last couple of chapters but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless. Thank you for the feedback on the last chapter, it means a lot. Also, I’m making a seperate tag list for people who would like to be tagged in all of my supernatural stuff (one shots, dabbles, other series etc.), so let me know if you want to get on that. Also, Also - if any of you have any requests for one-shots or the like, I’d love to do that. Thanks to everyone who’s read and re-blogged it this far. As always, any tips and suggestions are welcome. Feedback would be amazing. Thank you and happy reading!

Summary: Sam and Dean meet a young hunter who is a little rough around the edges and they reluctantly take her under their wing. But she might be a little more connected to them that any of them realise. 

Word Count: 1.8k

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7

Chapter 8

To Dean it felt like it took forever.

He watched Cas’s hand glow as if he were healing her, not even daring to breathe. Sam stood beside his brother in support. Cas had his eyes closed in concentration. Dean was looking worriedly at Y/N but she didn’t look like she was in any pain. He trusted Cas with his life and knew he would never knowingly hurt Y/N, but worrying came naturally to him and he had to make sure she was safe. There was an instinct there that he was usually used to associating with just his brother.  

Cas had only wanted to see her soul but as soon as he put his hand on her, he was bombarded with her memories. Her thoughts, her pain, her experiences – they were so loud. He had never felt so crippled by a human mind before. He was surprised by the intense anger he felt on her behalf. The girl didn’t seem to harbour much anger herself – there simply wasn’t any place for it beneath the fear, uncertainty, loneliness and hurt. He saw her memories like he had once seen Dean’s when he pulled him out from hell. Once he was sucked in, he couldn’t get out until she let him even though he felt like he was somehow violating her privacy. But, if he ever had any doubt that there was a part of Dean Winchester in this girl, the burning determination underneath everything else would have been enough to remove it. Even without seeing her soul, shining as brightly as her father’s.

Y/N was expecting pain even after Cas assured her that there wouldn’t be any. What she was not expecting was the warmth. It felt like she was bundled in the softest blanket and nothing could hurt her as long as she stayed in the cocoon of that warmth. It was bright light and hope and love and like nothing she had ever felt before. She almost didn’t want to let it go but she could feel the sensation trying to pull away from her. She chased it until she couldn’t. She didn’t know how long had passed before she came back to Earth, so to speak.

Cas’s hand slid from her forehead down to her cheek momentarily.

“I’m sorry for the hard life you’ve had Y/N. You are truly an incredible human being and I vow to protect you to the best of my ability from here on. I shall not let any harm befall you.”

The intensity of his words surprised her but she didn’t say anything. Dean, on the other hand, balked at the words.

“Wait, what just happened?” he asked, looking from Cas to Y/N and back again.

“What’s with the vow of protection? Is this some kind of Twilight imprinting bullshit?!” Dean’s voice grew more hysterical with every word, making Y/N muffle a snort.

“Dude, why the hell do you even know what that is?” Sam asked incredulously. Dean ignored him in favour of glaring at his friend.

Cas turned away from Y/N to give Dean his best imitation of Sam’s bitchface.

“No, Dean. I didn’t imprint on your daughter. I can assure you I have no intention of mating with her,” Cas sarcastically dead-panned, which would have normally impressed and even amused Dean but his brain had stopped working at that moment.

Daughter. Daughter.

Fuck.

There was a ringing in his ears. He could hear Sam calling his name, could feel the weight of his hand shaking his shoulder, but everything was muffled – the only thing he could focus on was the fact that he had a fucking daughter.

Of course, he had known it was a possibility – that was the whole damn point of the angelic test, but now… it was real. He was a father. Just like that. In that moment – he fucking hated Sandra.

Sam would have loved to say that Dean reacted maturely and focused on Y/N and didn’t freak out at all, but father or not, he was still Dean Winchester. So, Sam wasn’t all that surprised when instead of making sure his daughter was alright, Dean stormed out in the direction of the shooting range, or so Sam assumed. He knew his brother and he knew that it was how he processed things. Working on his car or shooting stuff was Dean’s way of dealing with the news and Sam was just grateful that he didn’t choose to turn to the bottle instead.

He watched Dean walk off but instead of trying to reason with his brother, he turned towards the other person affected by the news. His niece (Holy shit, he had a niece) was frozen in place, her eyes not really focused on anything. Cas looked at him worriedly and Sam realised that Cas hadn’t meant to drop the news in such a way. He smiled at him reassuringly, and walked to where Y/N was still standing.

Instead of calling out to her, he gently guided her to the library and made her sit down on a chair. She didn’t react at her which didn’t necessarily surprise Sam but worried him nonetheless. Cas brought a glass of water from the kitchen and Sam quickly thanked him before setting it down on the table and kneeling in front of Y/N.

“Kiddo? Hey Y/N, are you alright?” he instinctively asked and winced. Of course, she wasn’t alright. Her entire world had just turned on its head.

“Y/N, you with me?” he tried instead.

She looked at him without really seeing him. He had to repeat the question a couple of times before he even saw a hint of acknowledgement in her eyes. He waited patiently until she finally shakily nodded her head.

Her throat was dry. She reached for the glass of water blindly. Sam quickly picked it up and placed it in her waiting hands, watching as she took small sips.

“Where’s…” she trailed off, sipping at the water again just to have something to do.

“Probably in the shooting range. He’s… processing. But I guess so are you,” he said uncertainly.

“You have a shooting range?” She was clearly avoiding the big elephant in the room, but Sam didn’t take the bait.

“I’ll show you later,” he dismissed the topic change expertly. “How are you holding up?”

“You mean after learning that my mother lied to me my entire life?” she spat out. Sam winced at the tone but ignored the hostility, only squeezing her shoulder in response. She deflated at the lack of a fight. He simply waited.

“I don’t know,” she said finally. “I wasn’t expecting… I know you were all but convinced but I wasn’t. San- my mother always gave me the impression that my father was dead. Until a few minutes ago, I didn’t even have distant relatives that I could call family. Now suddenly, I… I don’t know how to deal with that,” she said, frustration heavily lacing her voice.

Sam noticed the hesitation at her mother’s name and stored that little piece of information for later. His heart went out to her, it truly did.

“Look, I can’t even begin to imagine being in your position right now. Or Dean’s, for that matter. Hell, I’m still reeling from the fact that I have a niece, and I’m not even the one directly affected by this! So, I cant tell you how to feel or what to do. That’s up to you. What I can tell you is that you’re family now, Y/N. That word has way more weightage in this household than it probably does anywhere else. So, whatever you’re going through, you won’t be alone. I’m here, Cas is here and when he eventually gets over his little temper tantrum, Dean will be here too,” Sam smiled wryly.

Y/N chuckled a little even as emotion clogged her throat, shaking her head at Sam’s attempt at levity. She was suddenly pulled into the tightest hug by Sam, but this time she refused to cry. She’d had way too many breakdowns in the past few days and she’d ignore the stinging in her eyes and the burn in her throat if it was the last thing she did.

Instead, she sniffled into Sam’s plaid shirt, realising this was the second time in as many days that she was in this position. She chuckled at that, and instead of pulling away burrowed herself deeper into the comfort of the embrace.

Sam squeezed her tighter and kissed the top of her head. This was his niece. He was a fucking uncle! What did uncles even do? She was probably too old for toys. He also didn’t see much pranks in their future, at least for a little while. He could teach her he supposed. She clearly needed education and didn’t seem particularly thrilled about any form of formal institution. Yes, he would be the brainy uncle, who answered all the questions. He could do that.

Eventually, she pulled away. Seeing the hopeful expression on Sam’s face, she managed a weak smile at him, trying to tell him that she would be alright.

“I think I’m going to get some sleep and… process all of this. Let me know if De-Dean comes back soon,” she stumbled a little, not entirely sure what to call Dean anymore. Was ‘Dean’ inappropriate? It was way too soon for anything remotely in the ‘Dad’ ballpark. She put it away as a problem for later, not wanting to deal with the headache that accompanied thinking about her new family.

“Yea- yeah! No issues, kid. Get some rest. Dean will probably be a couple of hours. Cas already went to him earlier. He’s good at making Dean sort through things. I’ll probably head over there myself in a few,” he said assuredly.

“What’s up with that anyway?” she asked, her earlier curiosity making it harder for her to keep her mouth shut.

“What’s up with what?” Sam sounded confused.

“Cas and Dean?”

Understanding dawned on Sam’s face, immediately replaced with a look of long-suffering exasperation. Y/N giggled at that, making Sam smile subconsciously at the sound.

“If you ever figure it out, let me know,” he sighed and with a last kiss to her head, walked away.

Y/N shook her head and walked up to her room. She once again took stock of all the things that supposedly belonged to her. The mattress was the softest she’d ever slept on. She had her own freaking room. She had food to eat and clothes to wear and a couple of guys who cared more for her than what she thought she was worth.

Maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t so bad.

TAGS: @vicmc624​ @carisi-sonny​ @zizzlekwum​ @geekqueen5​ @mondefantastique​ @lemondropirwin​ @hamildork​ @mrswhozeewhatsis​ @singingsongbird1318​ @strrynigxts​ @only-for-cee​ @now-its-time-to-get-funky

If anyone else would like to be tagged, please send me an ask (: Thanks for reading!