He held eye contact and had a firm hand shake. His eyes were gentle. I felt instantly comfortable, like we had already met hundreds of times before this, and we were simply going through the motions one more time. His eyes searched mine, and he cracked a joke that made my laughter dance around us. I felt lighter. He listened to me, and responded in a way that made me feel truly heard and accepted. He talked circles around me, touching on every topic that was of interest to me and when I’d add something to his point he’d smile fondly at me like he was so proud of me for understanding his view of the world. He taught me things, helped me explored feelings and concepts that before were slightly beyond my grasp. His body was facing towards me all night, and when his curly brown hair fell in his face I had the smallest urge to run my fingers through it. Not yet, calm yourself. He brought out this deep tenderness inside me that I normally have to pull out through gentle coaxing, but that softness seemed to sprint at him like he was the sun itself. I think he could sense my curiosity, and my warmth, and he welcomed it. Our bodies kept facing one another and we’d stare intently as we spoke of creative projects. Our eyes sparkled and our smiles came easy. He arrived just as I had hoped he would; with a calm and deep knowing of the way things were, are, and ought to be. His ambition is captivating and inspiring. His musical voice wrapped around me all evening, and I couldn’t stop thinking about how it would feel to hear him sing. We talked all night, until the light seeped through the curtains. I could feel his interest on me. I could feel the small bud of adoration reaching for the light that was me. I could feel myself reaching back.
You’d been in the industry a long time, tattooing on many celebrities and normal folks in your time. You’d seen many different characters, to say the least. Your favourite phrase was “Tattoo parlors are like hair salons with more entertaining equipment.” That was mostly because when people got their tattoos, they had a story or two behind them, whether it be a bad bet or a death in the family. You always had people telling you stories about anything and everything.
Your favourite was a certain yellow haired man name Joshua. Joshua came in every once in a while for touch ups and the odd addition to his intricate sleeve. He had the most amazing stories about his life, and you always found yourself enthralled by the fact that, in his twenty-eight years on this planet, he’d lived more life than most of the people who came in. You found out he was in a band when he came in for a final touch up before leaving for tour.
“Well, at least let me give you my number before you go so I can make sure you’re healing properly,” you said before cashing him out.
“T-totally,” he stuttered, adorably. Usually he was so confident in himself and his music, it was nice to see him flustered, “and I’ll see you when I get back? I’ll have some great stories.”
“You know it,” you answered, coolly. You handed him your card with your information on it, “text me when you get the chance.”
Joshua was gone for a whole four months, by your estimation. You didn’t have much time to think about how much you missed seeing him, as you had many appointments scheduled after Josh said publicly that you were his artist, but when you did think about him, it hurt. He only texted you once in those four months, despite your efforts to talk, but you didn’t blame him. Performing every night takes its toll on people.
Then, one night you got a text from him; however, it was not the one you were expecting. You unlocked the phone and opened the notification, and began to read.
Joshua: dude, i cant get her outta my head. weve been gone for four months and its like shes all i can think about. fuck it, i should just text her. but what woild I say? “hey, (y/n) the tattoo artist and most beautiful woman alive. wanna have drinks sometime? maybe when im not touring the world?”
You couldn’t believe it. He found you beautiful? Since when? Why hadn’t he just texted you normally, instead of mistaking your number for his best friend’s? You quickly started to message back.
i would love drinks when you’re not touring the world.
Your eyes were practically out of your skull as you waited for a response. He couldn’t leave you hanging now, not after such a long message.
But, he did.
You fell asleep waiting for an answer that never came. Soon enough, you gave up hope. A week passes, no text. Two weeks pass, no text. A month, two months, three months pass, not even an appointment at the parlor.
You moved on. If he wasn’t going to be a man and talk to you, you didn’t want to talk to him. It was as simple as that.
One morning, you walked into work, your dusty boots clicking against the linoleum as you made your way to your room. You unlocked it and set up shop for the day, sterilizing your station and making sure every needle was in place. Your first appointment came in for the day. A lovely girl by the name of Jenna, who wanted two small black bands around her wrist.
“(Y/n)! There’s a call for ya’, sweet cheeks!” You heard your co-worker, Jason, call from the front desk.
“Can you tell them I have an appointment?” You yelled back.
“Na’ he’s sayin’ it’s urgent,” he said. You groaned.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart, I’ll only be a minute,” you calmly stated. You sat down the tattoo gun you were about to use, knowing full well it would be against your conscience to use it after laying stagnant for a few minutes. You quickly rushed to the phone and put the speaker against your ear, “This is (Y/n), how may I help you?”
The voice on the other end let out a shaky breath and said “yes, do you think I can fit an appointment in? I can pay out of pocket.”
“Are you sure? They can get quite pricy if you don’t know the price point.”
“I know the price point, is there any way I can be fit in or not?” They seemed to be getting restless. Rustling and talking could be heard in the background and you had half a mind to hang up then and there, but you needed the hours.
“I have an opening at ten o'clock, PM,” you suggest.
“That works! Thank you!”
The line went dead. You looked over at Jason, who was watching you intently to ensure you were okay, and shrugged your shoulders, “probably last minute touch ups.” You swiftly walked back to your room and went on with your current client.
“And I told Tyler that he needs to take a break and he looked me dead in the eye and said ‘baby, it’s Taco Bell, I can’t take a break,’” Jenna laughed. She had just explained that she was getting bands around her wrist to match her husband Tyler, and she’d told you stories about her adventures with him. You finally finished and looked over your work.
“You’re all done, Jenna!” You giddily said, eager for her to see your work. She looked at the bands on her wrist and was surprised to see only one small edition to her wrist, the tiniest heart between the two bands. You dould only tell it was there if you looked hard enough.
“You’re amazing!” She exclaimed, pulling you into a hug.
“Oh, o-okay then” you stuttered, surprisedly. No one had ever reacted this way. The blonde pulled away and looked down at her wrist lovingly.
You glanced at the clock on your stations wall, it was almost ten. Your last client should have been coming in any minute. Your eyes began to shut, until you finally hear the bell ring.
You slid into the lobby and was surprised by a familiar head of yellow hair and the very blonde you were tattooing earlier, with who you assumed was her husband, Tyler. You let out a dry laugh as you walked toward them, “I guess you couldn’t stay away that long.”
They all looked at you. The colour drained from Joshs face, as if he wasn’t expecting you to be there. Jenna nudged him forward and the other man chuckled.
“Yeah, well, um” he scratched the back of his neck, trying to find the right words, “I guess avoiding your texts and you was easier than embarrassing myself again.”
“You didn’t embarrass yourself, you just accidentally texted the girl you like,” Jenna said, matter-of-factly.
“Not helping,” Josh chastised, sending an icy glare at her. He looked back at you and the ice melted, “can we just, you know, start over?”
“Will you answer my texts this time?” You asked with a dry chuckle.
31) Get your head outta your butt and focus.
Pairing(s): Dean x Daughter!Reader, Sam x Niece!Reader
Requested?: Nah, dude
Warnings: Fluff, read the Extended Ending with caution, things I can’t reveal, over-use of prompt(??), some crappy parts
Word Count (Not including age time-stamps, abbreviation keys, or Extended Ending notes): 1,108
A/N: Written for Katie’s 1 Year Celebration with prompt 31. @winchesters-favorite-girl. I’m also not going along with the SPN timeline. I may have used the prompt too many times in this, but bear with me? [MASTERLIST] [SEND FEEDBACK]
Warnings: ANGST. Depression, Violence, Smut, Mutant Reader
(ALWAYS) powers include immortality, healing and telekinesis. Currently can’t
think of anything else.
Summary: 5 years after the events of CACW, you are the live-in
therapist for the newly reconciled Avengers, Steve’s Fiancé. The first words
your soulmate speaks appears on your body, but only after your first
conversation has taken place, making it impossible to know who your soulmate
is, what will happen when Steve brings Bucky too live at the compound?
Song: Blink 182 Obvious
I saw you again
I think you used me again
Should we try this before we give up and move on
And pretend to restore what we have and hold on
At times like these
The fights been raging for what feels like hours, remnants of a
vase lay shattered on the floor from your aimed throw at Steve’s head, There’s
a hole in the wall where Steve put his fist through it, you’re hurling insults
at him, He’s steadily getting redder with every word out of your mouth “you
haven’t touched me in a week Steve! Am I that fucking repulsive? Do you hate me
that much?” your breaking down in front of him, tears are streaming down your
face “you cant even look me in the eye! You’re a fucking coward!” you
spit he takes two long steps forward, grabbing you by the arms and
shaking you slightly “Don say things ya cant take back doll, I don’ even know who ya are anymore!” he hisses “I’m getting sick of playin second fiddle to Bucky,
you better make a decision” you’re eyes narrow “Fuckin typical of you Steven!
Heaping the blame straight onto my shoulders! Get your self -righteous head outta
your ass and open your eyes!” “The hell do ya mean? I gave you space! I see the
way you’re eyein him when you think I aint lookin! I won’t be surprised if its
gon’ further than that!” Crack, you’re panting, the red imprint of your hand marking his
flawless porcelain skin, his mouth is opening and closing, searching for
something, anything to say that will fix the cluster fuck
that you both seem to have created, clenching his jaw he takes a deep breath
and says “I love you, but we aint happy, we gotta either fix this mess or give
up on it, I hate the thought of you with him, but if that’s what it takes then
I won’t stand in your way, if you wanna be with me then be with me, you can’t
have it both ways doll” he steps away from you, “Let me know what ya decide,
ill take one of the open rooms in the compound till ya can tell me what ya
want” he adds, he moves to kiss your forehead, but you shove him away from you “you don’t get to do that Steve! you aren’t even going to try and fight for us? MAKE UP YOUR MIND!”
“this is not my decision (y/n), it’s yours” he somberly replies
“so you’re just gonna walk out on me? This isn’t fair Steve, we’re supposed to be partners, We’re supposed to mean something!” you sob
“Guess it didn’t mean as much as we thought it did” he replies as he leaves.
I saw you again
I know you fucked him again
Can you comfort yourself with a sense of revenge
Are you leaving me here with the taste of the end
Bucky had heard the screams emitting from your bedroom and cautiously made his way toward the noise, scanning the corridors for a threat, he ducks into a corner as he sees Steve exiting the bedroom, he knows that look, that’s the look he gets whenever he wakes screaming from a nightmare, drenched in sweat ans shivering with the horror, making his way to the open door, he spies broken glass and plaster scattered around the floor, you’re a mess, face blotchy and red from crying Fuck Steve He think as he watches you sink to the floor, letting out a wail that has
tears coming to his eyes, he rushes forward gathering you in his arms he rocks
you backward and forwards, making vague shushing noises, hoping you get some sort
of comfort from his presence, your shaking in his arms, tears soaking through
his shirt, he absently strokes your hair “I’m here Printsessa” he soothes “let
At times like these
At times like these
This is his fault, he should
never have come here, he should have gone back to Bucharest when he had the
chance, in the space of a few weeks he’s managed to fall in love with his best
friends girl, and what seems to him, break them up, he takes in your sobbing
form sprouting out incoherent sentences, all he can make out is “Bucky”,
“Please” and “Make it stop it” and he breaks, the fuck is wrong with him? What
has he done? Your sobbing is calming down some when he hears you whisper
“Please don’t leave me too James” he gives you a watery smile “I ain goin
I saw you
again and again and again
There’s some room to move on, to move on, to move on
And I saw you again and again and again
How do we fix this if we never have vision
Bucky picks you up bridal style and lays you down on the bed, placing a lingering kiss on your wet cheek, your insides ache, Steve just walked out, a 5 year relationship down the drain, and you couldn’t wrap your head around it, you wouldn’t believe it, couldn’t believe it. you are handling everything wrong, you’re destroying more than just your own relationship, you’re dragging down a friendship that spans a century, you need to stop this now, before you do irreparable harm to them both, you cant be with Steve without hurting Bucky, And you cant be with Bucky without hurting Steve, you can be without them both and hurt only yourself though. With that final heart wrenching thought you utter the words that you know will haunt you for the rest of your long life:
Shock doesn’t even begin to cover his expression “ Wha’ (y/n) No, we-”
“Get. Out. Find Steve. Fix this”
“Don’ do this” He begs
“Leave, right now. I don’t want you here” you lie
The pure gut wrenching sorrow on Bucky’s face almost has you taking back every horrible thing you’ve said, but then Bucky’s face hardens, winter Soldier replacing the warm caring man you have come to know. the look he gives you is so full of venom you physically recoil from it, “Tha’s right doll, let’s ignore each other, Try to pretend the other person doesn’t exist, but deep down we both know it wasn’t supposed to end like this” and with that he turns to leave slamming the door on his way out.
You cry yourself to sleep.
At times like these
At times like these
Tags: Thank you guys for reading. Some of these tags refuse to work!