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p-redux · 12 days

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Had no idea cherylecheryl was bootsaucepunk but makes perfect sense as both are pathetic, nasty, malicious bullies. Thanks for the interesting info.

Hi, Anon. Sorry it took me a few days to put this together. This post is gonna be a long one. So, grab a beverage and get comfy.

For those who don't know, Tumblr blog Bootsaucepunk has been around for years and has cemented a reputation as a Sam Heughan and Caitriona Balfe hater. As far as her being the Instagram troll cherylecheryl, well, we know Bootsaucepunk's name is Cheryl. How do we know this? Because she OUTED HERSELF and her FULL NAME, Cheryl N. on her OWN, now deleted Twitter account. Everyone who was around back then knows Cheryl's last name, but I won't post it in its entirety since not everyone may know it. Cheryl doxed HERSELF, and I'll show you how down below, but I won't repost her last name for obvious reasons. After Bootsaucepunk revealed her own identity, of course, people easily found her info, including that she's from New Brunswick, Canada. But this is because SHE HERSELF posted her full name and a pic of herself on her Twitter account. Here's the backstory of how she DOXED HERSELF a few years ago...

Bootsaucepunk gloated that she would repeatedly harass Sam on social media, he would block her, and then she'd create new accounts. She also badmouthed Caitriona Balfe, her husband, Tony McGill, and bragged that Cait blocked her too. On the left side of the screencap below, you can see her as Bootsaucepunk talking about Sam reporting her to Twitter, Twitter suspending her accounts, and then she would create new ones. She even joked that she's playing "whack a mole" with Sam. Harassing Sam and Cait is a GAME to her. On the right side of the screencap, she posts a LONG diatribe talking crap about Cait, after Cait blocked her. 👇

Bootsaucepunk continued to boast that Cait blocked her and showed the proof of this. 👇 I've also attached the PROOF that Bootsaucepunk is Cheryl N., provided by HER. 👇 You can see that Bootsaucepunk is asked by another hater, Cant-Resist-Temptation, what Bootsaucepunk Tweeted that caused Cait to block her on Twitter. And Bootsaucepunk replied by posting what she said to Cait WORD FOR WORD. Basically, Cait blocked her for talking shit about her husband, Tony McGill. The thing is those EXACT words were posted on her real life Twitter account, CherylN_____89 (now defunct). 🤦‍♀️ Either she didn't think people would make the connection, or she was so arrogant she thought no one would call her out. (Click on the screencap to read it better). Oh, and notice in the second paragraph, Bootsaucepunk takes the opportunity to continue to talk negatively about Cait.

Let me show it again so that everyone is VERY CLEAR that Bootsaucepunk posted on Tumblr the Tweet that got her blocked by Caitriona Balfe (she's responding to another hater, its-mootpoint). 👇

And it is VERBATIM what Cheryl N. posted on her then Twitter account! 👇

AND Cheryl/Bootsaucepunk was either dumb enough, or arrogant enough, or both to post it on her Twitter account with her FULL NAME and REAL PICTURE. 🤦‍♀️

After that, everyone in the fandom knew EXACTLY WHO Bootsaucepunk was on Tumblr. Bootsaucepunk tried to say that the pic she used on her Cheryl_____89 Twitter account wasn't really her. But, after she posted her full name, the fandom had no problem finding her on social media. 👇 Obviously, the avi pic on her old Twitter account is from YEARS ago, so she looks younger, but the pic matches her Facebook account. There is NO denying it's the same Cheryl N. And I have other pics of Cheryl N. from N.B., Canada proving this. But Tumblr only lets you post 10 pics or collages total. I'm not posting her full face, she did that all on her own, but trust me, it matches the pic SHE POSTED as her avi on her CherylN_____89 account. Same face, same person, no room for doubt. Bootsaucepunk IS 100% Cheryl N. from New Brunswick, Canada.

Again, this is NOT ME doxing her, SHE handed her identity to the fandom on a silver platter...and MANY other people in the fandom then called her out publicly as Cheryl N., and as a Sam Heughan and Caitriona Balfe hater. Here is just a small sample. 👇

Cheryl deleted her CherylN_____89 account on Twitter, but we know the approximate date when she posted the Tweet that got her blocked by Cait...because another person responded to her on February 12, 2020, calling her out for the Tweet. And also chastising for touting herself as a journalist. 👇

Guess WHO else was stirring the pot, harassing Sam, right around the SAME TIME on Instagram? 👇 Instagram troll, cherylecheryl commenting on an Instagram post, stating that besides trolling Sam on Instagram, she would also troll Sam on Twitter. That particular cherylecheryl comment was dated March 20, 2020. And CherylN_____89 was called out on Twitter by the account Fans of Sam Heughan on the SAME DAY--March 20, 2020!

Instagram troll cherylecheryl has DIRECTLY harassed and bullied Cait, Tony, Sam, and EVERY woman Sam has ever dated. This is well documented for YEARS. But here's just a small sampling of cherylecheryl harassing Sam's ex, Anna Modler and most recently, the Brazilian fan who got a pic with Sam in London, and inadvertently posted a video of Sam and rumored current date, Sarah Holden. 👇

And those are the MILD comments, she's said some horrible stuff to Sam's ex, Mackenzie Mauzy, Gia Marie, as well as many others.

Something else that's of note. An ex-shipper who got sick of Cheryl's bullying, DMed me and showed me cherylecheryl's Instagram account and something very interesting on it. Here's the content of cheryelcheryl's Instagram account. 👇 It's all faux shippery Sam Heughan and Caitriona Balfe pics. Fake, fake, fake, fronting as a shipper, yet we KNOW all the crap she's said to Sam and Cait, and about them. The cognitive dissonance is staggering. And she also follows all the hater accounts that mock Sam's dates and Cait's husband, Tony. Her oldest post is dated January 10, 2022, in it, she attacks another fan, she attacks actress Hannah James directly, and boasts the fan blocked her. BUT, if one checks her account info, it shows the account was started in March of 2018! It's not logical that she created an account in 2018 and didn't post anything until 2022. No posts at all for 4 years? NOPE, she obviously posted from 2018 to 2022, and then DELETED posts that would identify her as Cheryl N. This is also why the account shows she's changed her username 2 times. Lemme guess? Was it originally CherylN_____89? 🤔😊 👇

For those saying cherylecheryl isn't Bootsaucepunk, um, I just PROVED to you beyond a shadow of a doubt that Bootsaucepunk IS Cheryl N. And Cheryl N. has an extensively documented history of saying horrible things about Caitriona Balfe, her husband, Tony McGill, Sam Heughan, and EVERY woman he's ever dated. Cherylecheryl on Instagram has an extensively documented history of saying horrible things about Caitriona Balfe, her husband, Tony McGill, Sam Heughan, and EVERY woman he's ever dated. And I showed you in a screencap above that cherylecheryl on Instagram talked about going go harass Sam Heughan on her Twitter account. Just like Cheryl N. aka Bootsaucepunk. Gee, what are the odds that there's another Cheryl who's a horrible troll and isn't Cheryl N. aka Bootsaucepunk? C'mon, now.

Regardless, there is NO doubt WHO Bootsaucepunk is = Cheryl N. And not only is she a Sam hater, but she's also a Cait hater. Let that be known to newbies who aren't aware of the history. I'm shown accounts who claim to be Cait fans but they associate with Sam hater accounts who interact with Bootsaucepunk, comment on her posts, let her comment on their posts, and mutually reblog. In your disdain for Sam, you're inadvertently commiserating with a Caitriona Balfe and Tony McGill hater.

So if the hill you want to die on is proving that Bootsaucepunk on Tumblr isn't cherylecheryl on Instagram, that's on you. BUT, do not forget that Bootsaucepunk IS a PROVEN Cait hater. There are MANY other examples of her hate toward Cait, but the ones I showed you up above should be enough to distance yourself from her. Make NO mistake, Bootsaucepunk hates Sam Heughan AND Caitriona Balfe, and has gloated about her disdain for them BOTH for YEARS. There's no justifying or excusing Bootsaucepunk/Cheryl N.'s behavior and anyone who associates with her is guilty of condoning such behavior.

I rest my case, your honor. Case closed, Edith.

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smolmakerel · 9 months

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"Do you sit down in the shower, Tara?"

Tara blinked in surprised before narrowing her eyes. "What?"

Her new therapist, Abby Turner, was staring at her with a relaxed expression of genuine curiosity. She didn't really look the part of a therapist, sitting there in a yellow cardigan that matched the socks with SpongeBob on them. If anything, she looked a lot like a teacher Tara had in second grade minus the thick rimmed glasses.

"Do you sit down whenever you take a shower?" Abby asked again, shifting to cross her legs. She drew her fingernail over the metal clip of her clipboard.

Still, Tara was taken aback by such a question. She felt oddly seen through.

"Why?" Tara shot back instead.

Abby laughed softly. "There's no need to be defensive. I was going over our notes from last time and thought about what you said."

What she said? What did Tara say, exactly?

"I don't remember saying anything bad," mumbled Tara.

"No, nothing bad. I'm sorry if I made you panic."

At that, Tara hardened her gaze and looked away. Leave it to the therapist to know when her thoughts were spiraling out of control. God, Tara only had 7 sessions with her, and Abby thought she knew everything about Tara.

"It's ok if you do," Abby went on to say. Tara's face soured, and Abby unfortunately caught that. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Another one?" Tara tried to joke, but Abby saw through her facade. "If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were trying to play 20 questions."

She chuckled awkwardly. "Why do you sit down in the shower?"

"Because... I uh..."

"Take your time."

Tara was at a loss for words. Why did she sit down in the shower? She never really noticed she did it until Abby sent her back with homework to figure out things she noticed about her dailey routine. Which included an hour long shower; Tara would be sitting in the tub allowing the hot water to hit her back. While she sat, tremors would rack her body and her irritation would rise.

"I get in the shower in the morning," Tara explained slowly, still processing her thoughts. "Before class so no one has to see me all... icky."

"And do you think there might be another reason for sitting down?" Abby inquired. "I only ask because of your water bottle comment."

Tara looked unsure at that. She brought her hands to her lap to fidget with her nails. The comfortable gray armchair she sat on never felt more uncomfortable under the watchful eye of her therapist.

"S-Sorry, but I don't remember talking about that."

"That's ok," her therapist assured her. "Last time, you talked about how you needed to clean your room. You have a lot of water bottles on your table and floor, clothes in your bed."

Recognition flashed in Tara's eyes. "Right. Sorry."

"Depression and anxiety after a traumatic event is completely normal, Tara. In fact, I would be surprised if you didn't have one of those with what you've been through."

Tara shrugged. "It's nothing. Other people have been through more than me; I'm just being selfish."

Selfish. She had always been selfish; even her own mother thought so, and she made sure to remind Tara anytime she was in town.

Abby wrote something down, nodding to herself as if all of Tara's issues were understandable now.

"I sit on the floor," Tara suddenly said in the uncomfortable silence. She didn't look at her therapist at all, ashamed. "I get so... tired sometimes. And it isn't because of the metal in my leg! It's me! I wake up tired, go through the day angry because of how tired I am, and go to sleep tired. But then I can't sleep and I just..." She huffed in frustration, nails dug into her palms. "I don't know what to do."

Abby leaned back in her chair and flipped her clipboard over on her lap. Her eyes watched Tara's face closely.

"Is there anything you have that could help you sleep?" Abby asked. "A stuffed animal, a nightlight...?"

Tara's mind immediately drifted to her older sister. Sam was strong enough to keep Tara's night terrors away, yet she's soft enough to wrap Tara in her arms and calm her down. No matter how much Tara yells and sobs in her sleep, no matter the bloody scratch marks on her arms, no matter how Tara dissociates to protect herself. Sam was always there.

"No," Tara claimed instead.

Abby cocked her head. "And your sister isn't willing to help you?"

Tara shook her head. "No, she is but... I don't want to bother her with my problems."

Abby flipped her clipboard back over and wrote something down. Tara wanted to chuck the damn thing out the window. She lowered the clipboard again.

"Based on what you've told me about your sister, she sounds like just the person you need at night," Abby pointed out with a soft smile. "I'm sure she'd be willing to help if you asked."

'But I can't!' The words burn acid on Tara's tongue.

"Ok."

Fuck.

[♡♡♡]

Tara raised her hand at Sam's door and drew it into a fist. It hovered in the air for a long few seconds.

Then she knocked.

The door opened not even a second later, and Sam was standing there rubbing her eyes.

"Tara?" Sam mumbled. She instantly woke up, eyes darting over Tara looking for some sort of injury. "Are you ok? What are you doing up right now?"

"Can... Can I sleep in here with you?" Tara asked and before Sam could respond, she was babbling. "I'm sorry if I woke you up with this. Fuck, I'm so stupid. This was a mistake, I didn't mean to wake you up with my stupid problems. I-I'll go back to my room. Sorry -"

"Tara."

Tara's breathing hitched when Sam gently cupped her face, and - Oh. That was actually kind of nice. She sank into the warmth of Sam's palms.

"Let's go to bed, ok?" Sam whispered.

Tara nodded, throat thick with emotion. "Ok."

It was about 20 minutes later when they were settled in Sam's bed. Tara was dozing off finally, face buried into Sam's chest as her arms wrapped around her.

She stirred slightly when Sam kissed the top of her head. Her fingers tucked a few strands of hair out of Tara's face.

"I love you, Tara," Sam muttered.

Tara, too exhausted to say anything, simply turned her head and kissed Sam on the palm. She settled back down and relaxed into a peaceful sleep.

#scream #scream 2022 #scream vi #sam carpenter #tara carpenter #I was tempted to make the therapist bad but then I thought of my therapist and how nice she is and thought “better not”#They're so soft for each other #I'm still figuring out how to write them tbh #So enjoy while I'm working on breaking your hearts in my next post #Tara learning how to ask for help after everything #She trusts Sam but doesn't trust herself #And it's all because of Christina fucking Carpenter #Fuck Christina Carpenter #My writing

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noeou · 1 year

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hello:) this is based off of aces halloween card because he has a line something like saying he has his makeup down and wants to try on us sometime. could you possibly do the first years x reader headcanons of them doing the readers makeup !! i love your crush ones

HIDDEN TALENT.

letting them do your makeup, willingly... or not.

includes: ace trappola, deuce spade, epel felmier, and sebek zigvolt. ( x gn!reader )

next parts: currently unavailable.

contains: fluff! romantic.

sincerely noe ,⠀thank you for your kind words, nonnie! im glad you enjoyed them and will enjoy these just as much :) there is no jack or silver because i can't see them being interested in makeup to that extent, i'm sorry.

ACE TRAPPOLA

although it may not look like it, ace is a lot better at makeup than you'd think. he's very quick about it as well.

when you asked him to do your makeup for no particular reason, he was actually excited. spent the whole night looking at different styles that would suit you and practice on himself. yes, he did fall asleep with makeup on his face, doesn't matter.

you first got brunch at sam's, it was (in a way) awkward with ace just staring at your face but what did you expect?

"wow, you brought a lot more than i'd expect."

you stared at your once empty vanity filled with the supplies he brought. you didn't know whether to be flattered at his effort or offended at the fact he thought he'd need this much.

"only the best for the prefect," he mumbled, mind clearly elsewhere.

he worked in silence. it was kind of funny, how close he was to your face yet not once making eye contact with you. the concentration is truly on another level.

it didn't take too long before he stepped away, somewhat proud of his first attempt on your face.

"that was a lot harder than i thought it'd be." ace sighed, glad to finally rest his arm.

you glared at him for that statement, despite knowing what he truly meant. as much as you wanted to bring up how rude the statement could be interpreted, you noticed something was off. ace was much, much paler than usual, other than his eyes that were darkened.

standing to get a better look at his face, you finally were able to look in the mirror (he wanted you to be surprised so he had you turned away.)

no, you were not met with a monstrosity. three hearts of different sizes were made around your left eye, resembling the single one on ace's. you never would have expected such a thing from the ace trappola, infamous prankster.

a gentle snore interrupted your thoughts; a grin tugging at the corner of your lips, you worked to move him to a more comfortable spot to get some rest.

DEUCE SPADE

he learned a lot of what he knows from his mother. to start, he'd catch his mom watching makeup tutorials as background noise while she'd do anything. that's how he was introduced to the art.

when you asked him to do your makeup, the one he wanted to do immediately came to mind. it was one he was still working on perfecting, it was inspired by one of the characters in a drama his mother frequented; his favorite one (don't tell anyone.)

before getting to work, he watched the first episode with you to show you who the look was inspired by. he kept it on as he worked, not getting distracted for a moment.

"can you look up for me?" deuce requested, gently pulling your chin upward.

"she's actually pretty cool," you hummed, eyes still glued to the screen. "i can see why you chose her as inspiration."

he tapped your nose with the end of the brush in his hands, scoffing at your comment. "i chose her because she's my favorite in the show."

"just like i'm your favorite in this wonderland?"

"you are aware that i can mess your makeup up at any given moment, right?" deuce said, glaring.

"okayokay–" you grinned, "i'll stop."

which you did, until you didn't.

funny enough he finished when the show did. and the show wasn't short. nonetheless, you took so many pictures with and without him. going as far as to fix your hair like hers, just to tease him further.

"i'm never doing this again." he groaned, falling into a pillow to hide his flushed face. it was his best attempt at tuning out your professions of love in anaccent similar to the character's.

EPEL FELMIER

he needed a face to practice makeup on that wasn't plastic in order to complete vil's assignment, leading us to where we are now.

while he may not be a makeup pro, he could be mistaken for one given how much attention to detail there is in his work. the precision is unmatched among his peers, apple carving was to thank for that.

he went for a more minimalistic look, if only it didn't sting as much as it did.

the melody of piano being played in another room made sitting through this easier than it was, humming along to that epel put you through an hour's worth of skincare (not including the time you spent on it the night prior to) before getting to the makeup part.

an unexplainable joy filled you when there was only lip gloss left on the table, you watched as epel began tidying up his other belongings before finishing the last part.

he quickly dragged his thumb across your lower lip, to check that the chapstick had already been absorbed. the warmth in your face was at first our of shyness at the unexpected gesture, which quickly turned to irritation when your lips began to sting.

"my lips burn, again!" you poked the skin around it, wanting to wipe off the plumper but at the same time not wanting to mess up the hours of progress.

"don't talk, ya might get some in your mouth." epel said, looking up at you for a brief moment. "i need to take pictures, don't mess it up."

"wasn't planning on it…" after a few more minutes of silence, an idea struck you, "as long as you kiss it better."

taking advantage of the confusion in his face, you quickly pressed a kiss to his cheek. at least you won't be suffering alone.

SEBEK ZIGVOLT

out of the other, he is definitely the most shy about being able to do makeup. he doesn't keep his knowledge secret, but he doesn't go out of his way to tell people about it either.

he knows a lot about more traditional styles, finding the modern ones very… silly, if you will.

given his more tradition preferences, sebek is definitely one to never use products found in stores. he makes his own. and yes, he does use them very often.

over a break, lilia convinced him to take you with them to briar valley. they planned a ball for a reason you can't recall, but it's allowed you to learn more about this side of sebek.

it took him a while to stop being flustered with the amount of skincare and make supplies he's mad. when he did, he most certainly geeked out about it. it was more of like what styles you do when, and techniques.

"ooh, we match!" you grinned excitedly, looking at your face in the mirror.

you noticed a light shade of pink dust his ears at you observation.

"it's tradition that knights match with their lover at gatherings like these."

“what? really?” you gaped, you’ve truly come a long way.

it was almost like yesterday he was embarrassed to know you exist and now he’s willing to show your relationship to those he’s grown up with.

you pressed a kiss to his cheek before (debatably) skipping off to change.

#twst fluff #twisted wonderland #twst #twst imagines #twisted wonderland imagines #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twst headcanons #twst first years #ace trappola #ace trappola x reader #deuce spade #deuce x reader #epel felmier #epel x reader #sebek zigvolt #sebek x reader

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coffeebeans18 · 2 years

Text

Favorite coffee cup

Dean Winchester Smut

Pairings: Dean x Y/n

Warnings: Some kinky shit.

Size kink

I'm in the bunker's kitchen, where some asshole's put my favorite coffee cup on a high shelf. Again. It wasn't me. Of course it wasn't me. It's my favorite coffee cup. Why would I put my favorite coffee cup on a shelf that I can't reach?

I think one of the guys is fucking with me. Maybe I did something and they're trying to get back at me. Or maybe they're just being dicks because they're tall. I've noticed that they like to use their tallness against me.

Why?

Who knows. Who knows why the Winchesters do what they do. That includes using their tallness against me.

"What are you doing, Short Stack?"

There's that stupid nickname. One of them. One of the million short related nicknames that the guys have given me. I turn my head and see Dean, standing in the doorway, watching me.

"Some asshole keeps putting my favorite coffee cup on the highest shelf."

"Some asshole?" He asks, sounding a little offended.

"Yeah. Some asshole. I'll refer to them as something else once they stop doing this shit."

Seeing that he's got no interest in using his tallness to help me, I get a chair from the kitchen table and bring it to the counter. I stand on it, immediately getting a concerned look from Dean. Now he's concerned? He wasn't concerned when I was telling him about my coffee cup. But he's concerned when I'm standing on a chair, to get it down?

"You don't think there's a safer way to get it?"

"Probably. But this way works, too."

"Or-"

He pauses, but I don't really worry about it until I feel him lift me from the chair and put me on the ground. That was hot. He just lifted me like I weighed nothing. To him, I probably do weigh nothing. He's pretty buff. The things I'd let him do to me... I want this man to do unholy things to me. He's so big and so strong and I really just want him to manhandle me. What? Uh...I mean... No. I said what I said.

"Here." He says while handing me my coffee cup.

"Um, thanks."

He nods and leaves the room. Did he only come in here to get my coffee cup for me? He didn't do anything else. He came in, watched me struggle for a bit, then got the cup down for me. Then he left the room. Whatever. I have my coffee cup. Now I can make coffee. As I'm making coffee, Sam walks in, dressed like he's about to go somewhere.

"Where are you going?"

"Supply run. You need anything?"

"No, I'm ok. But we're running low on coffee."

"Alright. How'd you get that cup down?"

"Dean got it for me."

"Really?"

Why's he sound so shocked? I mean sure, sometimes it's shocking when Dean's nice to people. But why's it shocking that he got my cup down for me?

"Yeah. Why so shocked?"

"Uh, no reason. Just-"

"Don't lie to me."

"Look, I'm sorry, but Dean told me not to-"

"I don't give a shit what Dean told you. What aren't you telling me?"

"Dean, may or may not have, put your cup on that shelf."

"What? Why?"

"Because he knew you'd have to ask for help. And he thought it would be funny."

"Funny? What's funny about putting my things on high shelves?"

"Dean's just got a funny way of flirting. That's all. I'm sure he didn't mean any harm."

Flirting? With me? No. Dean's not flirting with me. He's just being a dick.

"Flirting?"

"You still haven't figured it out?"

"Figured what out?"

"Dean's got a crush on you. I thought you'd have figured it out by now. It gets more and more obvious every day."

"If Dean had a crush on me, he'd tell me."

"I think this is something you should talk about with him. I'll be back later."

He leaves the room, then the bunker, leaving me to wonder why Dean wouldn't tell me if he's got a crush on me. He's Dean. If he's got a crush on you, you're gonna know. He'll make sure you know. Maybe he's been giving me signs, but I just haven't noticed them. I've always been a little slow when it comes to romance and love signals.

Thinking back on it, Dean's definitely been giving me signals. I thought that was just the way friends or siblings act, but I'd be a little concerned if someone treated their sibling like that. He's definitely been giving me signs. I'm not sure how to feel now. I'm not mad about it. I've actually been crushing on Dean for a while. It's nice to know that he feels the same.

I just don't know how to bring this up to him. How do I talk to him about it? How do I talk to someone about their crush on me without seeming self absorbed? "I know you have a crush on me" Ew. You can't say that without seeming self absorbed.

"Hey."

I turn my head and see Dean. Only this time, he's right next to me. How did I not notice him approach me?

"Um, hi."

"You gonna drink that or just stare at it?"

I look down and see my coffee, in front of me, which still hasn't been touched. I was so lost in thought that I had completely forgotten about it. So how long have I been standing here? More importantly, how long has Dean been standing next to me?

"Um, I'm gonna drink it."

"You ok?"

"Yeah, I was just thinking."

"About me again?"

"What?"

"I know how much you think about me. Like when you're alone in your room at night."

There's no way he knows about that...

"I don't know-"

"Do you think about me when you're touching yourself, Y/n?"

Yes. Every time. Every. Single. Time.

"Uh, I, yes."

If he knows about it, I might as well tell him the truth. I think about him while I touch myself. I'm thinking about him right now, while worrying about the growing wet spot in my pants.

"You're thinking about me right now, aren't you? All the things I could do to you? All the things you want me to do to you?"

How in the fuck is he doing that? It's like I'm under a spell, just from looking into his eyes. A good spell, that gives unholy thoughts... They might be unholy, but they sure are pleasant.

"Um, well, I mean-"

"Tell me what you want."

"I want you."

"Want me to what?"

Ok. Now he's teasing me. And I'm not even mad.

"I want you to fuck me."

And before I know it, we're both naked and I'm layed out on the table. I don't know how it happened, but it happened fast and I'm not complaining. One of Dean's hands is massaging one of my breasts while his mouth works the other. After a few seconds, he moves down my body, to my wet core.

I thought he was gonna finger me, but no. He's tongue fucking me. I didn't know someone's tongue could make me feel so good. That's the magic of Dean Winchester. It doesn't take long for me to cum on his tongue, with seems to amuse him. The best part was when he licked my thighs clean.

"Now I want you to do that on my dick."

"Ok."

He lines himself with my entrance, just in time for Sam to walk in and drop everything he was holding.

"OH, MY GOD! DEAN!"

We both freeze, not exactly sure what to do. I'm absolutely positive that Sam's gonna be having nightmares for a while, now. This, ladies, gentlemen, and anything else you might identify as, is how you give your best friend nightmares and possible life long trauma.

"ON THE TABLE?! ARE YOU TWO FUCKING SERIOUS?!"

"Uh, Sam, do you think maybe you could, uh, get out?"

"GO TO A BEDROOM! PLEASE!"

He rushes out of the room, tripping on the way out, and Dean and I look at each other.

"You wanna take this to my room?"

I nod and he picks me up. He carries me to his room and locks the door. We finish what we started and end up cuddling in his bed. I like this. Being held in Dean's arms while he presses gentle kisses to my head.

"We're still friends after this, right?"

"I was hoping we'd be something more."

"You want me to be your girlfriend?"

"I want you to be my girlfriend."

"Then I'm your girlfriend."

All because of a coffee cup on a high shelf. If I had known that would get me a boyfriend, I'd have complained about it way sooner. Coffee cups on high shelves = giant boyfriends. Who knew?

#supernatural #supernatural smut #dean winchester #dean winchester smut #dean smut #dean x y/n #size k!nk

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satans-helper · 2 months

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Smother the Flame in Your Heart - Part XX

Read previous parts here or read on Ao3 // Playlist

Pairing: Danny Wagner x Sam Kiszka

Word Count: ~2700

Warnings: vampire & sexy time ;)

Sorry I'm a day late and sorry it's a bit short. The past couple weeks have been difficult and I literally didn't write a damn thing. I think things are breaking through now, however, and I'm not quite sure when this series will end, but we haven't reached it just yet!

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It hadn’t been an easy decision for Sam. He’d made the decision quickly though, because the reflections on his brotherhood and a better understanding of Jake’s desires had soared through his mind when he’d pulled Danny away from the kitchen table, whisking him into action. He’d been shaking in the living room as they stood there and spoke quietly–at times silently and only exchanging facial expressions–discussing what was to be done.

Sam felt like he had two options. He could scorn Jake yet again, force him to turn away and never come back, and allow both of them to cause irreparable damage to themselves and their entire unit, including Danny, that they would always regret. Or he could show some grace and sacrifice in a way he’d never had to sacrifice before.

Danny was patient, as he always was–that was one of Sam’s favorite qualities of his soulmate. He let Sam take the reins and make the decision himself. Sam knew Danny would follow along no matter what that was. And he trusted Danny so completely that, when he did decide, he knew he didn’t need to be in the room with them when it happened. Sam didn’t want to see it, but he had no fear for what Danny might do–he’d do nothing except what he was asked. Sam also did trust Jake, although prickles of anxiety and doubt made that trust seep in more slowly.

All in all, it was just a couple minutes. And then a few more. Sam waited, pacing the kitchen in his bare feet, not making a sound. His own silence scared him too–he couldn’t mutter to himself, couldn’t make a single noise to exemplify what he was feeling because there were too many feelings stewing inside his heart and mind. But, when the timer went off, he just hoped that whatever Jake needed was accomplished and over with. And when Danny came back to him, Sam felt an overwhelming and unexpected sense of relief flood his veins.

Danny spent the next few days absolutely doting on him, which made Sam feel even more loved. Gifts and food and weed and alcohol, plus infinite kisses and massages and cuddles–Sam was ensconced in affection and he was eating up every second of it.

During an early and easy morning, they had gone back to bed after a quick breakfast–and no coffee. It was like Danny just wanted them to go back to bed, so Sam hadn’t put up a fuss. They had nowhere else to be but in each other’s arms.

Sam had nearly fallen entirely asleep again once they’d settled back within the sheets. He was lying on his stomach, just enjoying the closeness to his boyfriend when Danny straddled his hips; warm hands were quickly on Sam’s bare shoulders, gently rubbing and squeezing. Sam sighed and kept his eyes closed, enjoying Danny’s intentional and slow touches.

“Feel good?” Danny asked softly, working his palm into a small knot beneath one of Sam’s shoulder blades. Although the worst really was finally over now, he’d noticed–and keenly, physically felt–how tense Sam still continued to be. He had stopped carrying it in his face, his jaw, his words, but it festered in his body. It was a good thing Danny genuinely liked giving massages, because he believed Sam needed at least one each day.

“Always does,” Sam mumbled, keeping his face tucked against his arms and beneath the pillow. He winced a little when Danny worked that spot harder, but a few seconds later and a tightness Sam hadn’t fully felt before seemed to drop away.

Danny ran his hands down Sam’s sides. “Your skin is like silk. It always blows my mind.” He knew Sam’s shower and post-shower routine well, so it shouldn’t have been surprising. Still, he’d never touched another man whose skin was so silky soft and smooth. Danny could touch Sam all day and never tire of the sensation beneath his fingers.

Sam felt his cheeks heat against his arms. “You always say the nicest things to me, Danny.” Danny’s massaging of his lower back was putting Sam into even more of a lull. “I don’t deserve you.”

“Of course you do,” Danny replied quickly but still softly, bending down to kiss Sam’s shoulder. He could smell his favorite scent in the world so clearly–there was no other that matched up, nor any other taste that was nearly as good, and experiencing Jake had proven that. The longer he’d been with Sam, the less he’d even noticed other people’s inadvertent temptations. Sam filled up his whole world and every one of his senses.

This morning was no exception. In fact, Danny felt even more in tune with Sam’s body and scent, and there was a hunger burning inside him. He tucked a strand of hair behind Sam’s ear as he spoke against his neck: “You know–I am a little hungry. You’re the only one who satisfies me.”

Sam made to roll over; Danny shifted off him to let him do just that. Sam reached up and pulled Danny to him, arms around his shoulders, and kissed him, suddenly so awake. “Really?” he asked, though he fully knew Danny told him the truth. He just wanted to hear more nice things.

“Mhmm,” Danny hummed as he kissed Sam back. “The way you taste…” He ran one hand down his body and cupped his ass, pulling Sam’s leg over his hip. “There’s nothing else like it. No one else like it.” He held Sam’s face in his other hand, pulling back to gaze at him. “But you know I love you for a hell of a lot more than that.”

Sam’s fingers hooked through Danny’s hair. “Like what?” he asked with pleading eyes and pouty lips, teasing. That got him the reaction he wanted–a big, beautiful smile and a soft chuckle from his boyfriend.

“Like your crazy, amazing mind,” Danny began, tracing one fingertip over Sam’s temple, then down his cheek and over his bottom lip. “The way you always speak your mind and hold fast to what you think is right. How loyal you are to the people you love, myself included.” Why would he ever need anyone else? Danny thought, staring into the depths of Sam’s dark eyes. He had his perfect match, his best friend, his most trusted person, his undeniable soulmate, with him forever. He squeezed Sam’s thigh down below. “I love how passionate you are about everything and how excited you get about what you love.”

Sam smiled. “Yourself included.”

“I don’t wanna be presumptuous,” Danny replied with a smirk.

Sam yanked him down by his hair and sank his teeth into Danny’s neck. “You should be,” he said when he pried his teeth away, Danny’s body sagging against his own. He touched the faint pink mark he’d left on Danny’s neck. “I want you to bite me there.”

With Sam, Danny no longer felt like a freak. Sam trusted him and wanted to experience every part of him, always. Still, Danny’s eyebrow twitched with trepidation: “You’re sure? You don’t care about anyone seeing?”

“Positive,” Sam purred, grinning. He grabbed Danny’s sides, fingers digging into muscle beneath the t-shirt. “Well. There’s one person I want to see it. You know.”

Danny sighed, shaking his head, but he was smiling all the same. “Ah, of course. You gotta show we belong to each other, right?” Sam nodded, twisting his body a little and arching his back. Danny dropped back down, ensconcing Sam’s front with his own, the weight and heat of their bodies melding together. “I understand,” he said with his lips against Sam’s neck, the soft, supple skin forever just as tempting as the delectable blood beneath.

They both moaned when Danny’s teeth broke through Sam’s skin and he started to gently suck. Desire and admiration for his brave, generous boyfriend and also a newfound sense of pride in himself rose in Danny’s heart as he tangled his fingers in Sam’s hair; it had taken so much time to harness the willpower he had now, and even more discipline when it came to Sam. Now, it wasn’t easy, but it wasn’t a debilitating challenge. He could take what he needed–what they both needed–and still be a kind, gentle, loving person and partner.

Sam’s hips wiggled beneath his and Danny felt the hardness between those thin legs. Sam was so insatiable, and the soft little whine that escaped those plush lips made Danny moan again, the sound muffled against Sam’s neck. Even without seeing, he knew and he could feel how distinctly his mark would be left on Sam for all the world–for Jake–to see. And when he ceased his drinking of that mouthwatering elixir that ran through those veins, ran his soothing tongue over the little wounds and pulled back, he could already see it.

Sam reached a hand up to touch the spot on his skin that was burning and sore. “Mm. I bet it looks hot.”

After a quick swipe of his tongue over his own lip, Danny laughed. “It looks crazy. Like it always does.”

“Good,” Sam replied, hands tugging at Danny’s shirt, and their clothes came off even more quickly than that horrible decision Sam had had to make.

The rest of the world disappeared as Sam rode Danny. It was just them in the cool mid-morning light that spilled into the room, just Danny’s hands on Sam to keep him just grounded enough, tied to the reality he wanted to be in forever–the reality of safety and beauty, excitement and love.

And Danny did look so excited, beautiful and full of love beneath Sam. Big, dark eyes stared up at him, gleaming and shimmering gold and hazel when he blinked, lips parting below as if he was in total awe of Sam. Sam was in awe of him in turn–Danny was so in control all the time, so composed, so regal in his beauty and calm, as placid and cool as the gentle breeze through a wild forest. Sam always felt like a raging fire threatening to burn down the world, so close to destroying everything, even the things he loved, but with Danny’s hands on his hips and those eyes locked on his own, Sam knew he could be still, he could exist in the world without clawing at it in furious desperation. He didn’t need to be desperate for anything–everything he’d ever wanted was all his, no question.

Danny’s hands squeezed before one left Sam’s hip to wrap around his cock. Sam had already been sliding himself over Danny’s abdomen, but the additional warmth and friction and the wetness from his unyielding precum made his eyes flutter and close. He was breathing hard, his heartbeats matching Danny’s, so close even though they’d barely begun.

Danny didn’t mind. He was close too, throat tight against the moans that kept rolling off his tongue, his cock squeezed tight by Sam’s body, his chest warm beneath Sam’s long, slender hands. He lifted his other from Sam’s hip and brought it to the gorgeous face he longed to see every second of every day, caressing Sam’s cheek, brushing his thumb over his full bottom lip; Sam opened his eyes and smiled before he launched himself down, suddenly riding Danny hard and fast as he pressed their mouths together.

“Oh, god, Sammy–” Danny whispered against those bewitching lips, his words turning to muffled moans when Sam kept incessantly kissing him. He wanted to say so much but he’d have to say it all later, because one more rough gyration of Sam on top of him and Danny’s brain sparked and shut off for a second. His own limbs went rigid, then suddenly slack, while Sam’s mouth trailed down his chin and neck, tucking his face beneath Danny’s jaw to suck and teeth as he burst into Danny’s curled palm.

“Oh, god, Danny,” Sam mirrored with a smirk against his boyfriend’s neck. He rolled off and onto his side, quickly tossing one arm over Danny’s torso. “You’re the devil.”

Danny snorted. “Far from.”

Sam laughed, giddy and love-drunk, still a bit delirious from his orgasm. “I know. Just kidding.” He inched close enough to kiss Danny’s forehead. “You’re actually an angel, sent down to earth just for me.”

Danny smiled, cupping the back of Sam’s head. “That’s true.”

Sam dropped back down against the pillows, keeping his eyes on Danny. “So what else should we do today? It’s still kind of early.”

“More of this,” Danny said, wiping his hand against his chest. He was in no rush to clean himself or anything else up–he could take it easy today.

They lazed throughout the slight remainder of the morning, even taking advantage of Danny’s extra-clean tub to bathe together. Sam was never a bath person–who could sit there in dirty water, confined to concave porcelain and forced to remain still? He always needed to move. He raced through his showers, his routine down to such a succinct timeline–part of that was because he lived with two other people–that sitting there in the warm, sudsy water, his back against Danny’s slick chest, felt entirely unnatural. But Danny’s slow, soothing touches kept Sam still and silent, basking in the surprising comfort and the unique ease that his boyfriend elicited.

Once all clean and dry, Danny sat at the little round kitchen table that he’d gotten at a garage sale years ago, watching Sam prepare lunch. He’d grown to become relatively accepting of being alone for as long as he was, but one thing that always irked him was cooking for just himself. It never felt right and it was always annoying. Sam mitigated that, and he was also such a joy to observe–he moved around the little kitchen like a hummingbird, fast and focused, his eyes fixated on what he needed to find and what he subsequently did with each ingredient. This afternoon, it wasn’t anything objectively special, but the homemade pasta salad and turkey sandwiches filled were beautiful in Danny’s eyes–carefully crafted and plated, and they tasted better than any other similar dish he’d ever had because Sam’s hands had created them for him.

Danny did the dishes, though there weren’t many to do. The turkey sandwich lunch hadn’t created much of a mess and he was regular enough with his upkeep that there wasn’t much lingering day-to-day. He wondered if Sam would adopt more of that fastidiousness into his own life–maybe Danny was only really like that because he grew up with a sister and not brothers. He wasn’t sure that he’d ever be able to fully understand Sam’s relationship with his brothers, but Danny was so relieved that things were getting better between all of them.

A weight had been lifted the moment he’d met Jake’s gaze from the Kiszka’s porch–there had been an understanding, silent but profound, exchanged in that look. Sadness and defeat in Jake’s eyes, but one blink later and Danny knew he saw acceptance there too. Finally.

“What are you thinking about?” Sam asked as Danny was motionless, caught in a daze of reflection in front of the kitchen sink. Sam came up behind him and shut the water off as he clicked his tongue. “Wasteful, Daniel.”

“Oh, shit.” Danny chuckled, then sighed as he set the mug he’d finished washing in the drying rack. “I was–” He let out a soft groan and turned around, taking Sam in his arms. “I just never wanted to break his heart, you know?”

Sam nodded, circling his arms tighter around Danny’s waist. “You didn’t mean to. He gave you no other choice, if we’re being real.”

Danny pouted. “Aw, Sammy. I don’t know if that’s fair. We can’t help who we like.”

“No, but we can help from hitting on them.”

“Okay, fair. Still…” Danny sighed again, studying Sam’s face. “I think it all worked out for the best. You think you guys are really gonna be okay?”

Sam wouldn’t have said yes to that question a few weeks ago, but now, he had no doubts. “Absolutely,” he answered, sliding his hands into Danny’s back pockets as he leaned in for a kiss.

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Tagging:

@mackalah @sparrowofrhiannon @starbuggie @lightsofthe-living-gvf @sanguinebats @gvfrry @clairesjointshurt @bizzielisteningtogreta @milojames16 @brokebellsgvf @streamsofstardust @heckingfrick

If you’d like to be tagged in any of my fics, you can go here or DM me :)

#greta van fleet #gvf #danny wagner #danny gvf #sam kiszka #sam gvf #josh kiszka #josh gvf #jake kiszka #jake gvf #danny wagner x sam kiszka #gvf fanfiction #sanny #stfyh

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lovewithmary · 7 months

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can you plsss elaborate on Evie’s relationships with the characters from the MCU (if you want)?

buckle up everyone, because I've thought about this for an unnecessary amount of time. i'm gonna cover the avengers, sam, bucky, rhodey, pepper, and peter. btw the mcu timeline is not organized so just ignore the timeline. this is long im so sorry

her relationship with her dad is great in comparison to how tony grew up. I don't really include this, but evie is a one-night stand baby. she was created back in tony's playboy days pre-pepper, and evie's bio mom isn't really involved. however, it doesn't really matter because evie has tony and she never felt as if she needed to seek out her bio mom. tony is relaxed when it comes to parenting evie most of the time because compared to him, evie was pretty tame growing up (which doesn't really take a lot to do considering how wild tony was). there were times when he was too overprotective of her (the time when the avengers were constantly being assembled) but other than that as long as she doesn't get herself into too much trouble, he trusts her. tony is very aware of how his childhood was and actively tries to make sure he goes out of his way to do the complete opposite.

her relationship with pepper in the beginning was evie saw pepper as her dad's secretary and that was that. evie was a little kid at this point when pepper was first hired, maybe 4-5, and tony had been through a bunch of secretaries who quit after a month or two. so pepper staying longer than anyone had expected surprised evie, which led to her slowly opening up to pepper. eventually, evie saw the tension that pepper had with her dad, and wanted them to get together. she was absolutely excited when they did, and even more when they got married (in my head they got married earlier than they did). evie was flower girl and max was the ring bearer. as evie got older, her relationship with pepper got stronger and you would've never guessed they weren't really mother-daughter based on how they acted.

rhodey was her favorite uncle (don't tell the others) hands down. he was her godfather and he had helped tony out with evie in the beginning when evie was just a baby. every time evie blew up a lab or did something that made tony grow white hairs, rhodey would always tell evie that she was tony's karma. no one was able to handle tony by themselves, and now tony could barely contain evie by himself. rhodey's the uncle she'd run away to if she accidentally got in trouble to hide. but it didn't last long considering rhodey would always tell tony whenever she ran away to his, but she'd do it again without fail because there's not a lot of places she'd be willing to run to.

the first avenger evie had met was actually natasha. when natasha went undercover as natalie rushman, evie barely saw her so she didn't have an opinion of her. but once evie saw natasha (as natalie) kick happy's ass, she was immediately suspicious of natasha but never said anything because she was just a kid at the time, so who was going to believe her. but in the end, when natasha gave up her undercover identity and showed up with her spy suit, evie just said, "i knew it," and natasha has been in her life ever since. after evie had been kidnapped the first time, natasha decided to teach evie how to defend herself—black widow style. natasha was like the aunt that probably shouldn't be teaching her how to paralyze someone temporarily by pressing certain pressure points of the body, but she does anyways.

wherever natasha is, clint always ends up following. clint noticed that natasha was frequently gone despite her mission about tony stark ended not too long ago. so clint followed natasha to the stark tower and saw how natasha interacted with evie. natasha never had many opportunities to interact with children, so the fact that she was able to act so familial with evie was fascinating to him. this, as a result, made clint want to see what was the big deal about stark's spawn. his first impression wasn't the best, considering he popped out of one of the vents in the tower and evie had gave him a good punch with a surprising amount of power for how old she was at the time.

bruce was the next one evie met, shortly after the battle of new york, bruce visited the rebuilt stark tower. what he didn't expect was a bundle of energy named evie stark who practically had stars in her eyes when she saw him. in the beginning, evie thought of bruce as a god. she had read all his papers on gamma radiation and watched videos on youtube about the hulk, and practically idolized the man. this honestly weirded bruce out at first, because this was the first time a kid had been so excited to see him since he became the hulk. but evie's thoughts on bruce changed, thinking of him as an uncle instead of her hero (she had said that once in front of her dad, and he wouldn't stop sulking the rest of the day).

it took a little bit for evie to meet steve. considering he was too busy being the poster boy for SHIELDRA, she didn't actually meet steve until about a year after the battle of new york. evie didn't know what to think of him; on the one hand, he was a science experiment gone right and she desperately wanted to gather data, but on the other hand, she knew that steve and her dad barely got along. steve wasn't so keen on evie either, automatically assuming that tony stark's daughter was going to be like her dad. but he was immediately wrong when he had met her, she was more of a toned down version of tony and pepper.

thor was like the uncle evie barely saw, but when he visited, his visits were always memorable. when thor had long hair, he let evie braid his hair while he recounted tales of adventures back in asgard. these stories, as a result, caused evie to demand ask thor to take her to asgard. tony immediately shot it down, but evie was able to wear her dad down and reluctantly let her travel to asgard. she wasn't there for long, but asgard was definitely a dream vacation spot for her (too bad max can't take her even if he wanted to).

bucky was someone that she didn't know how to feel about. after the whole civil war business (i am actively denying everything after civil war), she had made it a point to actively stay away from the man. not because she was scared of him, but because of what happened when he was the winter soldier and what he did to her grandparents. she didn't try to blame him, but he was the man who inadvertently caused so much pain for her dad. but she had warmed up to him once he came back from wakanda to get rid of the brainwashing programming and bucky showed evie a picture of the goats he had taken care of when he was in wakanda. bucky and her are now cool, and she even managed to help bucky sneak the wakandan goats into the tower (much to her dad's dismay, who had found one of the goats in the elevator and that's how he found out there were now goats in his tower).

peter and evie's relationship was enemies to friends to lovers to friends again. evie initially didn't like peter because of how much tony spent time with peter (she didn't know that peter was spiderman at this point, so she saw peter as a regular intern). and it escalated even more when evie had been enrolled in peter's school by tony, who claimed that he just wanted the best education for his daughter (in reality he wanted her and peter to get along). peter was aware of evie's dislike for him, and he was genuinely confused about why. but evie changed her mind about him once she found out about his superhero identity when peter had climbed into her bedroom window accidentally instead of her dad's lab window. upon seeing the blood and the shredded suit, evie had panicked and her panicking got worse when she saw it was peter behind the spider-man suit. when they became friends, they got together (which max did not like, for some reason) but ultimately broke up when evie saw how mj and peter interacted.

#(not) moving on

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scripted-downfall · 1 year

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One of the things that pisses me off most about Sam freaking Winchester is his tendency to claim the title of "the emotionally aware one" or "the empathetic one", ostensibly "try" to help someone only when it's convenient for him, and then turn around and revoke or rescind that help the second it's not.

This happens a number of times, but some examples include:

s02e09 Croatoan: "No, no, no, no, Dean. You're my brother, all right? So whatever weight you're carrying, let me help a little bit." followed by Dean telling him about John's last order (complete with Dean actually begging him to lie low for a bit) and Sam directly contravening that by leaving in the middle of the night (when he knew it'd hurt Dean to not know where his brother was, thus making the weight he was carrying worse) in s02e10 "Hunted"

The aftermath of Hell??? Like sir, wtf??? s04e08 "Wishful Thinking" has "Dean, look, you can't just shoulder this thing alone. You got to let me help." and then, when he finally tells Sam about Hell in s04e10 "Heaven and Hell", "Dean… Dean, look, you held out for 30 years. That's longer than anyone would have." And then there's Sam in s04e14 "Sex and Violence" going: "You're too busy sitting around feeling sorry for yourself. Whining about all the souls you tortured in hell. Boo hoo." (Yes, I know that the second quote was under the influence of the siren's drug, but the whole point is that it was exposing inner thoughts, so. Still counts.)

Every episode touching on the Gadreel business. Going from s08e14 "Trial and Error" ("I want to slam hell shut, too, okay? But I want to survive it. I want to live, and so should you. You have friends up here, family. I mean, hell, you even got your own room now. You were right, okay? I see light at the end of this tunnel. And I'm sorry you don't – I am. But it's there. And if you come with me, I can take you to it.") to s09e13 "The Purge" ("I was ready to die. I was ready. I should have died, but you… You didn't want to be alone, and that's what all this boils down to. You can't stand the thought of being alone.")

This is kinda a part of the last bullet point, but there's a backwards example in Dean's subsequent death... Sam pulls out the s09e13 "The Purge" "No, Dean. I wouldn't. Same circumstances…I wouldn't." line because he wants to hurt his brother, and yet, the second things go wrong, he wants to take it back: "What happened with you being okay with this?" "I lied. (s09e23 "Do You Believe in Miracles?")

And there are more, but these are just the prominent examples that spring to mind now. I might add more if I come up with them, though.

And, to me, this is really bad. Because Sam knows that he's inflicting serious damage, and seems to actively want to do so. (All of the above were examples chosen precisely because they're examples of Sam consciously having "made an effort" to help Dean with a certain issue/fear/concern, and then throwing that very thing back in his face to win a battle.)

And, like... it's great that he's willing to try and help when the situation is rosy. But it really doesn't help that he sets it up as something that can be taken away at a moment's notice. Especially given that this is precisely what their father did: give positive reinforcement only when something was going his way, and pull it away again or use it as a weapon whenever his will is challenged.

And the amount of damage that's bound to do to Dean... I mean, he already spent his whole childhood and adolescence being told that he only mattered in relation to his usefulness, his ability to follow listen to orders, his willingness to accept other peoples' ways of running things without complaint, etc. His feelings? His emotions? His hopes for the future? Oh, those don't matter. And then here's Sam. And Sam... Sam acts like John was wrong. Sam says that a lot. And Sam's the smart one. So Dean maybe (maybe) lets himself believe that. It's hard, and he doesn't always buy it, but he gets a little bit better at it. But the second he pisses off Sam? All those statements about him deserving better --- about how Dean (how everyone) had an innate right to be treated in certain ways, judgements of worth aside --- fly out the window. Then, the fact that he dared to actually presume that he deserved something more is all the more ludicrous because even the person who's been helping him sees how damn worthless he is. And the whole cycle repeats over and over again through the series, until it's this jagged zig-zag that is likely hell on his mental state.

(See below the cut for a personal anecdote that I feel is relevant to this/gives insight to it. It's very me-oriented, though, and I feel kinda selfish for including it, so I'm leaving it as optional. Don't click if you don't wanna see it. No trigger warnings to my knowledge or anything; it's just not solely fandom.)

I always knew I hated Sam for this, but I'd never actually put it into words. And then, recently, something similar happened in the middle of a conflict with a friend. My head often isn't friendly, and I had a friend who helped with that. He was one of a small subset of people I could rely on to help me with certain issues. He was one of my closest friends at the time, and he knew a lot that I've only told about one or two other people. And then we get into a fight and I receive a full two paragraph rant about how horrible I am, tearing into exactly the stuff I've told him I'm concerned about, everything that he'd at least tried to help me with, etc. And I feel worse than I ever did before because even he had given up on me.

And this wasn't my brother. This was someone I trusted, yes, but we'd still not known each other for anywhere near as long as Dean's known Sam. I've not sacrificed nearly as much for him as Dean has for Sam. I've certainly not built my whole life around his esteem the way Dean has for Sam. So if this is how I feel... what does that say about Dean?

#supernatural #dean winchester #anti sam winchester #anti john winchester #but only a bit

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nardaviel · 7 months

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oc wants meme

I'm just gonna do this for Sora and Sam, my main guys. Listen, it's a bad pain day and talking about my OCs cheers me up

Sora Yumura

His faceclaim is Miura Haruma, when he had longer hair. The first pic is The Sora pic. My Photoshop skills aren't that good but that's as good as they're going to get, and I think it gets the idea of what he looks like across. But the second one is an extremely Sora facial expression.

Description: Tall, a little too skinny, but well-dressed and strikingly attractive, with wavy green hair and observant grey eyes in a clever face. A lot of poise, a lot of charisma, witty but respectful. All of that is a mask and he is really hoping you're taken in by his facade of functionality, but it is convincing as hell. Even dazzling, at times, if he needs to really turn on the bright lights. So almost everyone falls for it, in the end. His (rich) parents died when he was young and he was raised by his (incredibly rich) aunt and uncle, who were emotionally abusive, although he would say that that's an exaggeration. His little cousin is like a brother to him, and he protected him from his aunt and uncle as best he could, but that didn't stop him from getting the fuck out of Japan entirely as soon as he could leave for university. (There were other reasons and other traumas behind that too, but this isn't Sora's entire life story lol.)

What do they say they want? (i.e., what are the desires they put out into the world and have no trouble admitting)

Sora wants the top job. He won't be crass enough to actually say that to you, but his ambition is clear enough if you're in a position to look at his education and employment choices. He wants what's best for his loved ones, of course, which will always include his little cousin Ibushi, and depending on time period may also include Sam and his children, if he has any in the AU in question. He is likely to downplay how serious he is about that, however, and he won't mention his small circle of close friends, whose safety and well-being he is just as intense about. (But if their well-being is actually at issue, you may find yourself surprised by his complete 180 from charming and diplomatic to grim and uncompromising and ruthless.)

In all honesty, Sora isn't very open with most people about how he feels or what he wants. Aside from really surface-level stuff ("I'd kill for a coffee"), this is about all you're going to get.

What do they think they want? (i.e., what are the desires they keep hidden and only admit to their closest loved ones)

He wants to keep his loved ones safe and happy, and to them he'll admit that he'll do a whole lot to make that happen. He wants to believe his parents would be proud of him. He wants to be able to use his power to make a positive difference, but also to advance his personal interests, and he doesn't feel particularly bad about the second one. He wants to crush all his competition and see the looks on their pathetic faces when they realize he's beaten them, but he wants no one else to even notice anything has happened, because it's more satisfying that way. He wants to raise his children differently from how he was raised.

What do they actually want? (i.e., what is something they subconsciously need, but either do not realize or cannot admit)

Sora wants to feel safe. He hasn't felt safe since his parents died and he went to live with his aunt and uncle, which means in most AUs he doesn't remember ever feeling that way, and in the others it's a faint, hazy memory and he kind of suspects he made it up. He doesn't think in those terms, though, which is a shame because it's behind a lot of his decision-making. As time passes, he will start to experience transient moments of safety with Sam, and as he gets older, the omnipresent sense of danger will decrease some. That's about the best he's gonna get, but he'll still be grateful for it, without being able to name what it is.

Sam Quinn

He doesn't have a picture. :C I'm sorry, Sam. He is also @vashtijoy's OC as much as he is mine but I am writing about him nonetheless.

Description: Very tall giant man, with fluffy golden hair and hazel eyes that are quick to brighten with amusement. Otherwise, they're calm and thoughtful. Sensual lips, either a skinny nerd frame or an intimidatingly muscled frame depending on which AU he comes from. He's the middle child of a normal and loving middle-class family in London (unless the AU dictates that he is a medieval peasant instead, but he remains the middle child of a loving family). His curiosity and cleverness have often gotten him into Oxford, but also often gotten him into trouble. I wish you could be less interested in explosions, Sam.

What do they say they want? (i.e., what are the desires they put out into the world and have no trouble admitting)

Sam wants to learn things! He wants to study, read books, go to interesting places, and build his professional life around learning and discovery. He often ends up as an academic, and sometimes a teacher. He is often grabbed by a new interest and gets sucked into it for a bit, and he will definitely tell you everything he hopes to find out about it. He wants to be able to help his siblings take care of his parents when they get old. He wants to do good and help the less fortunate, especially once he marries into Soras $100mil+ family (which is only a family once he marries into it; it was just Sora until that point, alone with his parents' inheritance).

What do they think they want? (i.e., what are the desires they keep hidden and only admit to their closest loved ones)

He wants a family. He's always the reason they have kids. Sora loves their children and is a devoted father once they have them, but he only agrees to adopt (or find a surrogate, or use whatever magical gay-parent baby method is available) because having children means so much to Sam.

He also wants to be open about their relationship, when being closeted is often important to Sora's career, and so Sora has to make a decision about what to prioritize. (The answer is Sam. He chooses Sam. But it's genuinely difficult for him.) Sam doesn't ever ask him to make that choice, but when Sora pushes, he will admit that being closeted makes him sad.

You might be getting the impression that Sam is less of a complicated tangle of needs and wants and impulses than Sora. You're right! Sora is *gestures* like he is, and Sam is not like that.

What do they actually want? (i.e., what is something they subconsciously need, but either do not realize or cannot admit)

He wants a community. A family with Sora and children is probably the best way to make this happen, but in other AUs it's been Sora and a few friends they often see and trade with. He just needs a little group of people around him. Like Sora, he isn't really aware of this innermost need. He just thinks he wants kids because he wants to be a dad, which is also true.

Sam just doesnt thrive when he's alone, even if he's in the middle of a city. That's not a community; he needs something tight-knit, where he's respected for who he is as a person and what he can contribute. (In some AUs, that's another answer to this question. He wants someone to see him and think he's not broken just because he's curious and asks questions.) ...Gotta say, though, all of this causes a lot fewer problems than Sora's constant the-alarm-is-broken sense of being in danger does.

Sora does poorly when he's alone as well, although he doesn't need a community in the same way. He needs people who are his, and who he belongs to in turn. The best way to make him feel safe is to make him feel protected. So although their wants are different, they harmonize, inasmuch as Sora's desperate, clawing, wailing sense of danger can harmonize with anything.

#oh my god my head hurts so god damn fucking much its been like this for so long #im losing my fucking mind #this was a nice distraction and thinking abt their secret innermost wants was instructive actually #but now the distraction is DONE. fuck #sorry ik this has nothing to do with the post im just not very good at the equanimity some ppl have abt their chronic pain #might be time to think abt trying to sleep again...#anyway! i love sora and sam so so much. have u ever like. made something. and then been like yes thats it thats the Thing #the thing i was meant to make. everything else i ever made was just practice for this thing #idk how to put it into words rly but sora is the Thing #(lmao)#my post #sora yumura #sam quinn #sosam

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elliot-needs-sleep · 2 years

Note

just thinking about the fact that benchtrio + purpled don’t have healthy adult figures to look up to and must have some sort of distrust towards adults wanting to treat them kindly and cherish them without something in return and at some point must want to fuck with every adult that tries to coddle them. like baking horribly overcooked cookies and giving them to adults fully expecting them to spit them out and try miserably at making it seem like they enjoyed those overcooked to hella and back cookies. purposefully messing up said adult’s home when they’re forced invited to stay over to be safe. all that jazz. eventually adults give up and settle for being distant friends and then reader comes along.

reader who eats those overcooked cookies and treats them like they’re the best sweets in the world, who lets them be independent while offering support and not trying to convince them to follow a certain ideal. reader who gives them space to decorate their own room to stay in, a silent invitation if they need a place to stay. i just want to spoil those 4 but i know they’re from a world of favors and being in debt to people so they wouldn’t be trusting and okay with being coddled by me so i’d settle for subtle coddling and promises of help if it’s needed.

yours truly,

gremlin anon

Gremlin, you're a genius. Also, this is the first time I've actually included Purpled in a fanfic for real, mostly because I ran off the assumption that he wasn't comfortable with fanfiction at all, but apparently he's okay with it as long as it's about his dsmp self and isn't 'weird' as he put it.

Parental Figure

Fic Type: Short form?

Characters: Tommyinnit, Tubbo, Ranboo, Purpled

Fandom: Dream SMP

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

Tommy wasn't a great cook.

In his defence, it's not like anyone ever taught him besides Niki, and even she didn't really have time for him. He learnt everything by himself or with a bit of help from Phil and Wilbur.

So when he gave you burnt cookies as a welcome gift, he completely expected you to put on a fake smile and throw them away like all of the other adults he made cookies for. But you didn't do that.

You had smiled at him as if he had given you netherite, and you actually ate a cookie in front of him, proclaiming it was delicious and putting the rest of them in a cookie jar for later.

That... That was new to him. No one had seemed so genuine about his baking before. Even when he came back to sneak some iron the next day while you were out, he noticed the cookies were still in the jar, with some new crumbs on the counter. You were still eating them? That was also new to him.

Who were you?

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

Tubbo and Ranboo thought that trusting anyone else usually meant getting stabbed in the back or being used. Usually that went for all the adults, Puffy, Niki, Fundy and Sam being the only real exceptions to that. So when Micheal had run off, and you had found him and brought him back, they were instantly suspicious.

"I remembered Tommy had mentioned that you two had a tiny piglin named Micheal, so when I found him I tried to find your base, but then it became night and I tried to ask Tommy where to go but he wasn't answering, so I ended up running into Techno and asking HIM if he knew where to go, and he lead me through the nether, and I'm so sorry I didn't have him back sooner." You had rambled, clearly stressed out as Micheal was making happy noises in Ranboo's arms.

You had brought him back, with no ulterior motives, and were APOLOGIZING for not knowing where you were going. Tommy had told them about you, and they had ran into you in the past. He had said you were nice.

Tubbo ran off to rummage through an ender chest, handing you a few diamonds.

"Thank you."

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

Purpled was very used to trashing peoples bases so they would stop trying to help him. They always invited him to stay over and was never prepared for him to actually take the offer when needed. So he stopped taking them.

That was, until he showed up at your house in the middle of the night during a thunderstorm.

You had quickly ushered him in and out of the cold rain, leading him into your kitchen.

"I have a pair of Tubbo's clothes here, they'll probably fit you if you want?" You offered, and you went to go grab them once he nodded, shivering slightly.

"I've also got a spare room for you." He was expecting a small, hastily made room that was shared by everybody else.

What he was NOT expecting was you to lead him down a short hallway, to a door that had his name on it. When he opened the door, it was a bit empty, with a bed and a few chests.

"I wanted you to decide how to decorate. You're always welcome here, by the way. You can come in through the window, too, if you don't want to talk to me. Even if I'm not here." You left him with a small smile, heading back to your own room.

He slept soundly that night for the first time since he joined the server.

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

You helped teach Tommy how to bake and cook a bit better, always happy to taste test his recipes.

You babysat Micheal whenever needed, you brought books and toys for him and brought food for Tubbo and Ranboo when you noticed them running a bit low, all with promises that you'd made a bit extra and weren't going to eat it.

You helped Purpled with anything he came to you with, even if it was just ensuring he had a safe place to sleep.

You were giving them new hope in people. And that was new to them too.

#elliotiswriting #gremlin anon #dsmp #dsmp x reader #dsmp tubbo #dsmp ranboo #dream smp #tommyinnit #tubbo #dsmp tommy #dsmp purpled #c! tommy #c!tubbo #c!ranboo #c!purpled #ranboo #purpled #platonic x reader #x reader

54 notes · View notes

sortofanobsession · 6 months

Note

If you look up Lionel Messi and soccer, you’ll find a bunch of articles about his problems with gagging and vomiting during matches. I’d like to plant a story idea in your head about Jamie having that same issue.

Author's Note: I know I promised this earlier, and I know I promised a birthday sequel, but this is the most chaotic week of my entire year for work. So the other might be a bit delayed. Sorry about that.

Zava is a bit out of character in this. He's meaner than he actually was on the show. I did that because I needed a sort of trigger for Jamie's anxiety. Jamie is confident, or at least presents himself to be, and absolutely sure of his own abilities, Zava in the show does make him doubt himself, but not enough to create this level of anxiety. My husband has the same type of anxiety, especially when it comes to his job. He went thorough a program to help him, but my husband was dealing with it for the first time. Jamie, I have him set to have sort of dealt with it before, because with Jamie's history he probably would have. But again, this is all canon divergent.

Pairing: RoyJamie

Word Count: 6k+

Content warning: Anxiety, vomiting, nausea, panic, fear, manipulation, verbal harassment, physical violence, bruising, injury, blood, head injury, ultimatums, concussions, stitches, angst, anger, swearing/cursing/cussing.

With a little help

Jamie used to be better at managing his anxiety. Or at least he thinks he was. Maybe he was just better at, what had Keeley called it? Right, compartmentalizing, a weird word, but yeah. He really didn't know much about this stuff. Maybe it was just easier when he was a prick and didn't care what anyone thought. He knew he was the star, and he was fucking brilliant. But now, he had so much more to lose. Sure, it had wracked his nerves thinking he couldn't lose and his dad would punish him. But the anxiety over that was manageable as long as he was winning. But things are different now. Zava was the star. Zava was taking his friends from him. His dad must be pissed about that. Jamie feels like he’s going to be sick for, well, he’s lost count.

Roy looks around the locker room and everyone is there and eager for the match, all but one.

“Where the fuck is Tartt?!” the coach demands.

“Loo,” Jeff tells him.

“Again?” Sam asks.

“The fuck you mean ��again’?” Roy did not like the sound of that.

“Been in and out of since he got here,” Colin says.

“Does he plan to play sick because that is not a very good idea,” Jan Maas says.

Roy heads to find him, and Jan Maas might be on to something because he can hear Jamie throwing up. Something uneasy shifts the coach’s own gut. But Roy knows what he is feeling, just now why. He knocks on the door. He hears a bunch of noises, including rushed movement and water. Jamie rushes out and glances at the clock. And Roy does not like what he sees. Jamie is already sweating and shaking slightly.

“Shit, sorry coach, I’ll go-”

“Nope,” Roy states. “Cockburn can start, you-”

“I'm fine, coach, I can play,”

“Not if your fucking sick, if it's contagious-”

“It's not, I swear, coach, it's not like the flu or something,” Jamie tried, but Roy knew what he heard. He eyes Jamie skeptically and surprises himself as he reaches up to feel Jamie's forehead. Roy ignores the odd feeling in his chest at seeing Jamie’s cheeks color.

“I-I told you,” Jamie insists. “It's not like that, not a fever.”

“Something you ate?” Roy asks.

“...maybe?”

But Roy isn't sure if he should believe him. The coach sighs. “Get cleared by the med team, and you can go in, but until then, Cockburn goes in.”

And Roy is a bit surprised when Jamie doesn't fight him.

The team is too busy getting ready and listening to Zava for Roy to tell them.

“You're going in for Tartt,” Roy tells Cockburn.

“That bad?” The forward asks.

Roy grunts but doesn't give him a direct answer as he goes to the whiteboard and makes a few adjustments. Not that it changes much but the team finally notices.

“Cockburn is in,” Roy tells the other coaches.

“What happened? Is Jamie okay?” Ted asks.

“Waiting to see if fucking med clears him for the second half,” Roy states. “Fucking Tartt.” But as annoyed as he might be, he doesn't like the idea of Jamie not being alright. The team was finally set up to have a real chance at winning. Jamie Tartt had seen to it. Hopefully, he'd get it out of his system. But it wasn’t just that. Some part of Roy was just not happy that Jamie was unwell. He’s just not sure that bugs him so much.

“How is he?” Roy asks Gail at the half.

“A bit dehydrated, but good to go,” she tells him.

“Fucking good,” Roy says, and he means it because he feels more relieved knowing Jamie is okay than he had expected. “Let's go, Tartt! You're going in!” The match goes well, but Roy can tell something isn’t right with Jamie Tartt. So he decides to keep a closer eye on the forward.

It happens again before a few training days. And Jamie brushes it off as adjusting to a new morning routine. Again, Roy doesn’t really believe him, but he doesn’t force the issue. Not when Jamie is still up and training. But he can’t ignore it during their next match. Jamie actually throws up on the pitch and gets pulled from the match. Roy glares daggers at Zava as the newest striker complains about Jamie being a distraction. And it's not the first time he has. Roy makes his way to the treatment room and waves off the med team. So it is just him and Jamie.

“Alright, Tartt, fucking out with it,” Roy says. His arms crossed over his chest like he was trying to keep how worried he'd been growing inside his chest.

“Think I already did on the pitch,” Jamie winces.

“We both know that isn't what I fucking meant,” Roy tries to keep it together because he knows Jamie's history. He knows about Jamie's father. But Jamie isn't helping himself here, so.

Roy is going to have to be the one to do it. “Tartt, I need to know what is going on with you because this isn't the Jamie Tartt I know. And I don't fucking like it one bit.”

The way Jamie sinks deeper into himself has Roy quickly adding. “You fucking dying or something? You're fucking freaking me out, Tartt.”

“I’m not dying,” Jamie tells him. “Not even actually sick.”

“Then tell me what the fuck this is,” Roy says, and Jamie doesn't answer. Roy ignores the voice in his head with worse-case scenarios and moves to stand right next to Jamie. “Jamie,” he says in a softer tone. “I cannot help you if you don't talk to me. I need you to-” Roy doesn't even get to finish before Jamie sobs. Roy is momentarily gobsmacked before, without even really thinking, the coach pulls Jamie against his chest.

“Fucking hell,” he mutters more to himself than Jamie, but Jamie must think it's directed at him because Jamie just cries harder. So Roy just holds him tighter. Everything inside Roy Kent is telling him that he needs to do something. Because seeing Jamie like is like a knife in the heart, he'd do anything to cheer the striker up. And his brain doesn't seem to have much input either because Roy hadn't even realized his hand had gone up and was running through Jamie's hair, over and over to help calm him. But he doesn't stop because it actually seems to be helping as the sobs slowly turn into sniffles.

“I've got you, Tartt,” he says as he does. And when the treatment room door opens, and Jamie goes to pull away, Roy doesn't let him. The last thing he wants is for Jamie to close off and shut him out.

“I…uh…just need to grab a few things,” Gail says. The look on her face is one of surprise and slight amusement. “You're good.” She grabs what she needs and leaves.

“Well, that was embarrassing,” Jamie sniffles, it's muffled in Roy's shirt. And Roy huffs a laugh.

“It's fucking fine, just breathe and maybe tell me what is wrong.”

Jamie shifts, so it’s mainly just his forehead against him, and he takes Roy's advice. He takes a few deep breaths. He doesn’t pull away yet. Not fully. He’s almost too scared to look at Roy. But the way Roy's hand is now rubbing soothing circles on his back has him shifting and glancing up at Roy.

“Will you tell me now?” Roy asks.

“It's…it's just anxiety.”

Roy’s hand stills as that sinks in, but he recovers. His hand moves again because he doesn't want to make it worse. Doesn’t want Jamie to think that upsets Roy. He knows how Jamie gets when he thinks he’s upset someone.

“Okay, that's…okay,” Roy says. The coach is trying really hard to police his actions now. “Is this new or just worse than it was?”

And Jamie isn't sure if he'd ever heard so many words without the older man swearing, ever. And Jamie isn't sure how to feel about it. He didn't know if he should tell him that it was because of Zava.

“It's not new, but I thought I beat it ages ago,” Jamie says honestly.

“Okay, what changed?” Roy asks. And the coach can feel the striker’s muscles tense as Jamie starts to pull away. That didn't bode well. So Roy changes his tactic.

“Jamie,” Roy starts. “Tell me how I can help you?”

And that surprised Jamie. “You…you want to help me?”

“Of fucking course I do,” Roy says honestly.

“Because you're my coach?”

“Because I need you to fucking be okay. So what do you need from me?”

“Help me?” Jamie says. And the sad way Jamie says it grips Roy’s heart. He puts a hand on the back of Jamie's neck.

“Fucking easy, done. Just tell me how.”

“Train me?” Jamie asks, and Roy nearly laughs because if Jamie just needs some extra one-on-one to get past this, he will spend every minute he isn't with Phoebe or the team training with Jamie.

“Fuck, yeah, we can do that,” Roy grins because he has had worse-case scenarios going through his mind, and this, this is something he can and will do. “We can start tomorrow if you want.”

“Yeah, really?”

“Yes, Tartt, really.”

They train every morning before joining the team for official training. It's mostly just conditioning and talking. Roy hopes it helps Jamie get a handle on his anxiety and gets his confidence back.

Roy goes to Jamie before their next match.

“How you feeling?” Roy asks him.

“I'm okay,” Jamie says.

“You sure?”

“I think so.”

“Well, if that changes, let me know.”

“Sure, coach,” Jamie nods. When he turns back, the striker notices a few of his teammates looking at him funny. “What?”

“He didn't swear once,” Cockburn points out.

Jamie just shrugs. And Jamie thinks he might be okay until right before the game.

“Try not to lose your lunch or the game this time,” Zava nudges Jamie's shoulders as they head out.

And that has the knot in Jamie’s stomach returning. And he thinks he might get sick, so he slows down as they exit the tunnel. But Jamie hadn’t noticed that Roy had been watching him like a hawk. And the look on Jamie's face for just a moment before the striker can mask it is all Roy needs to see. The coach has to count to 10 to avoid murdering Zava on Sky fucking sports. He goes straight to Jamie.

“Whatever the fuck he said, ignore it,” Roy tells him.

“I don't know if I can-”

“Jamie, look at me,” Roy grips Jamie's shoulders. “You are Jamie fucking Tartt, and unlike that prick, you don't need to take your teammates down to be the star.”

“But I used to,” Jamie argues.

“But you matured, got better. He is a massive fucking prick. He wants to fuck with you because he KNOWS you are the only threat to his stardom on this fucking team. Stay focused on doing your job. Ignore him. And if you get the ball, do what you think is best.”

Jamie nods. “Okay, yeah, thanks, Coach.”

The match goes well, Zava still has to have the most attention, but Roy doesn't give him any. Ted and the others can manage that. Roy goes to Jamie.

“Well done, Tartt,” Roy tells him.

“I didn't do much, barely got the ball,” Jamie says with confusion.

“But you played without incident,” Roy insists.

“Guess training is paying off,” Jamie says. “Thanks, Coach.”

Roy smiles. Jamie’s stomach flips, but not due to anxiety or feeling sick. No, this is different. This is a good feeling because Roy fucking Kent is smiling at him and telling him he did well.

“Training tomorrow still?” Jamie asks.

“I think you earned a day off,” Roy says.

“What if I don't want one?” Jamie says honestly.

Roy considers it. He still has to meet the rest of the coaching staff to go through tapes. And oh boy does Roy have a point to make during that, but the last thing he wanted was Jamie backsliding.

“Tell you what, we can go over the match over breakfast,” Roy offers.

“Deal,” Jamie nods.

Roy thought they were finally getting in front of the issue as Jamie seemed to be doing better. Until one morning, Jamie fails to meet him for training. And he wasn't answering his door. Roy had never been so glad he had talked to his sister about Jamie's anxiety. She had insisted Jamie give someone a spare key. Because someone, mainly someone who lived closer than Manchester, to help make sure that his issues don't escalate. That someone needs to make sure Jamie isn't a danger to himself. Jamie picked two someones. Roy and Keeley. And without hesitation, Keeley had agreed to help. But this was the first time Roy had considered using the spare key Jamie had given him for emergencies.

Roy's heart is pounding in his chest as he opens the door. He begs the universe that this isn’t one of the worst-case scenarios his sister had told him after he asked her for help. He closes Jamie's door.

“Tartt?” He calls out. Nothing but silence greets him, and that makes his stomach churn. He digs his phone out of his pocket and heads straight for Jamie’s bedroom. He hoped he wouldn’t need his phone, but just in case, he pulled up the call screen.

“Jamie?” He calls out again. Nothing at first. He calls again and hears a noise in Jamie's bathroom.

“Jamie?” He says and knocks. He hears a sniffle. “I'm coming in.” And before Jamie can tell him no, Roy opens the door and finds Jamie leaning over the sink. His grip is so tight his knuckles are white on the edge of the sink. From a slight distance, Roy does his best to look Jamie over for any sign of injury. No blood. That was good. But he could tell this hadn’t just started by the bloodshot, red-rimmed eyes that looked at him with regret and possibly fear.

“Overslept,” Jamie manages. “Sorry.

Roy takes a deep and calming breath. Jamie is in better shape than he had expected, but the what-ifs still nag at him. He hauls Jamie into a hug.

“Roy?” Jamie asks in confusion.

“It's fine,” Roy says. “Everything's going to be fine.” Jamie isn't sure if he is saying it for him or not, but he doesn't fight it. He grips Roy's jacket tight. They stay like that for a bit.

“Come on,” Roy says, tugging Jamie by the wrist. “In,” Roy says, gesturing to Jamie's bed.

“But we have training,” Jamie says with confusion.

“Not for a few hours,” Roy states.

Jamie opens his mouth to argue, but his brain fails him when Roy removes his jacket and kicks off his shoes. “You going to stand there like a fucking prick, or you going to do as you're fucking told?”

Jamie silently crawls into his bed. He then watches in shock as Roy does too. Roy checks his phone, sets an alarm, and looks at Jamie.

“Fucking relax, Jamie,” Roy says, then lays down. Arms open in invitation. “You look fucking knackered, and you had me fucking worried. So make up your mind.”

Jamie is not sure if he is dreaming, but he isn't going to argue. He cuddles into Roy's chest, and Jamie has never felt warmer or safer in his life.

“Sleep, Tartt,” Roy tells him. And he does.

Jamie wakes up warm and content for once. He reaches for his alarm but realizes it's on the wrong side of the bed. Then he remembers what happened. It was Roy's phone. Roy was the warm body beside him. And Jamie's heart soars. Roy had been the only reason Jamie has been able to function recently. He really adores Roy.

“Feeling better?” Roy ask.

“Mmhmm,” Jamie hums.

“Good because we have training, so up you get,” Roy says.

Once Jamie is up and dressed, he heads down to find Roy in his kitchen drinking a cup of tea. He holds out a shake because he's gone over Jamie's routine with him multiple times. And Jamie knows he is officially lost on Roy fucking Kent. And Jamie knows there isn’t a way he is coming away from this anything but in love with his coach. Well, more so than he had been most of his life. He had fancied Roy for ages, but that had been that. Now Roy is in his kitchen and has spent the last hour sleeping in Jamie's bed with Jamie.

“Jamie?” Roy calls, snapping Jamie out of his thoughts. He shakes the drink again. “Yes or no? If you can't, then we-”

Jamie accepts the shake with a quiet thank you. And Roy watches Jamie. He seems to be doing alright now. But Roy doesn't want him to get antsy, so the coach looks down at his tea.

They head to Roy’s G wagon, Jamie not even arguing. It's quiet until Roy parks at Nelson Road.

“Now, you don't have to tell me what happened to cause what happened this morning, but…” Roy says, looking at Jamie.

“Just something Zava said yesterday got under my skin. You said to ignore him, and I'm trying. It's just not easy. Didn't sleep well, but I'm okay now.”

“Okay.” Roy reaches over and grips Jamie's shoulder. “If you need a break, tell me. We can take one.”

“Thanks,” Jamie smiles at him.

Shouting in the locker room has the coaches rushing out of the office. Dani Rojas and Colin Hughes stand between Jamie and Zava.

“The fuck is wrong with you?!” Jamie spits.

“I saw you with -” Zava starts, but Roy isn't having it.

“Everyone shut the fuck up!” Roy shouts. Jamie's eyes snap to his. And Roy sees a red mark on Jamie's face and would have lost his shit if Beard hadn't gone to check Jamie's face. Jamie lets him. Beard doesn't miss how the striker keeps glancing at Roy.

“Nothing broken,” Beard assures them.

“What in the blue blazes is going on in here?” Ted demands.

No one says anything—a number of players glancing at an irate Roy.

“Fine,” Ted says. “Beard, maybe a few laps will jog their memories.”

The team groans, but they go out.

“Not you,” Ted says to Jamie. Roy glares at the gaffer. The assistant coach swears he sees Zava smirks as he leaves.

“You fucking kidding me?” Roy snaps, but much to Jamie's surprise, it isn't directed at him but at Ted.

“Look at his fucking face, and he's the one that in-”

Ted shakes his head. “You strangling the team’s wringer in front of them might damage morale a bit, coach.”

Roy grunts but doesn't say anything else because Ted has a point. If Zava had opened his mouth again, he’d have the imprint of Roy’s boot all over him. It’s a dangerous thought but an undeniable one. Zava touched Jamie, and that is just not fucking okay in Roy’s opinion. He’s still fucking livid though.

“You alright, Jamie?” Ted asks the player.

Roy’s anger gives way to concern at the way Jamie’s hands bunch up in his kit. The striker looked like a kid who got caught stealing biscuits.

“Jamie,” Roy says as he goes over and tips Jamie's face up to look at him. A slight bruise forms and that has a mix of emotions swirling in Roy’s chest. “How much does it hurt?” Roy needs to know.

“‘m fine, Roy, nothing I can't handle it.”

“You used to handle broken ribs and not tell anyone,” Roy counters. “I need more than that, Tartt.”

Neither of them sees how shocked Ted is as he watches the pair. Roy went from furious to soft spectacularly fast in the gaffer’s book. And he isn’t sure he’d ever seen his assistant coach this gentle with anyone other than Phoebe.

“The team ended it before it could get worse,” Jamie says.

That gets Ted’s attention. “What exactly was ‘it’?” the head coach asks. Jamie looks between the coaches. Roy just reaches over and rubs Jamie's back. And Ted has even more questions now. But he knows he needs this answer first.

“Zava told me I should be benched, that I'm a distraction, especially…” Jamie hesitates, looking up at Roy. Roy just nods. Jamie looks back to Ted. “Especially to Coach Kent.” Roy lets out a bitter laugh but doesn't say anything. His hand did not stop its repeated course along the striker’s spine.

“How did that lead to you having a bruised face?” Ted asks.

“He had leaned into my space to say it, and you know me, I'm in and out of everyone's space always. So it shouldn’t have bothered me, but I didn't like it. I didn't want him there. So I shoved him back towards his spot. He didn't like that.”

“So a scuffle broke out until the boys stopped it,” Ted finishes.

“Not exactly. It was more the team scrambling to protect Zava, and I don't know who, but I took an elbow to the face. I…I don't think it was intentional.” They look up as the door opens. A couple of members of the med team enter. “But he kept saying that he knew. Didn’t make any sense.”

“Right, okay,” Ted says. He waves them over to look over Jamie's face. He taps Roy's shoulder and nods at the office. Roy nods. Ted goes to the office.

“You good?” Roy asks Jamie.

“Yeah,” Jamie says, offering the coach a weak smile. “Not like I'm going anywhere.” He gestures to the medics.

Ted closes the door once Roy is inside.

“Something you need to tell me, Coach?”

“Zava's a fucking prick and has been giving Jamie a hard time.”

“That’s it? I thought you helping train Jamie was working,” Ted says. “That he was right as rain.”

“I thought so, too, but he missed training this morning. Turns out Zava got under his skin yesterday like he just fucking did now, and with the anxiety Tartt already has, he barely slept. Found him crying and fucking gripping his counter like he didn't trust his own fucking legs. I got him to get a bit more sleep.” Ted didn't need to know that he did so by joining him in bed. “He is off his game already, and Zava just tipped the fucking scales. And now Zava thinks he fucking won. I'm not going to fucking sit here and let that prick isolate and bully-”

“And what is Jamie to you, huh? What's your next word, Roy? Your what?”

“Player,” Roy growls. “My fucking player. Because whatever you are implying, well, you can fuck off. And I'm fucking disappointed in you, Lasso. You made me put an end to the hazing of the kitman that fucking betrayed you. Betrayed all of us. But now that it's Zava targeting Jamie, who has been a fucking punching bag his whole fucking life, and you know it, it's nothing. Not on my fucking watch.”

“Alright, fair point,” Ted says.

It is painfully silent until Ted goes to check on Jamie.

“He's good to play, just a bruise,” the medic tells them.

“Great, let's get you out there,” Ted says, clapping Jamie on the shoulder. Jamie looks at Roy.

“Right behind you,” Roy assures him.

Ted decided to keep a close eye on Zava, especially when he was anywhere near Jamie. Things went fine during drills. He didn't miss the way a few players glared at Jamie as they finished running laps. Ted called Beard over and sent him inside after a few words. Isaac had confirmed that Zava had been talking to Jamie, Jamie shoved Zava, and the team stepped in. No one owned up to knowingly elbowing Jamie. So Ted had them run drills. More glares. Jamie’s shoulders slumped, but he looked over at Roy. Roy went over.

“They're fucking idiots,” Roy tells Jamie. “He’ll fuck up eventually. Tip his hand. Don't let him drag you down. He did this. Not you. Keep going.”

Jamie nods and joins the team.

Ted isn't sure he likes how Jamie keeps his head down. And Roy was right. Whenever someone glares at Jamie or ignores the other striker, Zava doesn't stop them. Zava seems to find it amusing. That was not good.

A bit later, Beard comes out with a tablet. He waves Roy over. Jamie's attention is drawn to the coaches when he hears Roy swearing and leaving the field. Jamie fights the urge to follow him. He turns to head back to drills when a ball hits him in the head painfully hard.

Roy hadn’t even reached the tunnel. When hears several people shout Jamie’s name. Roy's blood ran cold as rushed back to the field.

“He was distracted,” he hears Zava say, and the only reason Zava isn't picking his teeth up off the pitch is because Beard catches him, followed by Will.

He knows what happened without even having to look. Although Jamie was waiting with all the other players, the drills were running away from him. Jamie had gotten hit. Hard. This means someone did it intentionally or had gotten very bad at the basics.

“Jamie needs you,” Beard says. And that doesn't quell the other assistant coach’s rage, but it does change his direction.

“How is he?” Roy asks as he reaches Ted.

“Conscious,” Ted tells him.

“For Zava's sake, he better stay that way. I swear-”

“I know, Roy,” Ted says. “Go with him. We’ll handle it.”

“You fucking better,” Roy grits out before following the med team as they take Jamie away.

“Roy!” Keeley joins him where he is waiting in the hall. He was watching the med team work through the glass window. “Rebecca said it was Jamie. What happened?” Roy hands her the tablet he had retrieved. Much like the locker room video, the video of what happened on the pitch was sent to him. Keeley played the video and gasped. Zava had kicked the ball directly at Jamie. And the striker had one hell of a kick. Jamie went down instantly. Jeff and Sam were there in seconds, followed by most of the team.

“Poor Jamie,” Keeley says as she hands him the tablet.

“Stay with him,” Roy instructs as he walks away.

“Where are you going?” she asks.

“To make sure this is fucking handled!” He spits back.

Rebecca startles as the gaffer’s door is thrown open.

“Roy,” Ted says as the manager drops back down in his chair. “The wall didn't deserve that, but I think we can ignore that for now.”

Rebecca frowns but agrees.

“How is he?” She asks.

“Three fucking stitches and a concussion at least,” Roy says, going to grab a number of things from his desk. “Maybe worse, they were still with him.” He kicks his drawer when it doesn't close—the pair wince.

“Why aren't you?” Ted asks.

“Keeley’s there,” Roy states.

“That's good,” Rebecca says.

“You say that now,” Roy tosses the tablet on the desk. The video paused on Zava kicking the ball.

“Roy…” Ted starts.

“Don't fucking, ‘Roy’ me. Fuck no. This fucking prick goes, or I do, Tartt too. I fucking told you he was fucking with him.”

“You don't mean-” Rebecca starts, but Roy cuts her off.

“Fucking do it, or I will send that video to Sky fucking sports. I am FUCKING DONE!” Roy slams the door as he goes into the locker room. The handful of players in there flinch. He isn't sure if it's a blessing or a curse that Zava isn't there.

“What’s going on, Coach?” Sam asks as Roy moves to collect Jamie's things.

“Is Jamie hurt bad?” Dani Rojas asks.

“Like any of you fucking care,” Roy angrily states.

“It's Jamie,” Dani says. “Of course we do.”

Roy bitterly laughs. “Could have fucking fooled me.” Once the coach is sure he has what he needs, he turns towards the team.

“I have never been so fucking disappointed in any fucking team in my life. This is exactly what he was terrified would happen. You fucking pricks didn't even fucking notice.”

The locker room was unusually quiet as the team prepared to leave after training. Zava isn't even there anymore. And no one has heard anything about Jamie yet. Roy had not come back.

Sam checks his phone.

“Oh no,” he says.

“What?” Colin asks. “What is it?”

“Check the team chat?”

Colin frowns.

One by one, the team is shocked that Roy and Jamie's numbers are removed from the team chat.

“That's not good,” Jan Maas says.

“No, it isn't.” Sam agrees.

Keeley had been keeping Jamie company after the med team said he could go when the coach got back. She smiles at the way Jamie sits up as there is a knock at the open door, relaxing when he sees it’s only Roy. Jamie’s never been truly afraid of Roy, but she knew that Roy being there made Jamie feel safer. Like nothing, and no one is getting past Roy to get at him. It was actually rather adorable. Roy was like that with people he cared for, especially those he loved. And she had a feeling Jamie was now one of those very select few. Roy loved Jamie. Jamie loved Roy. She knew it. She just hoped they’d figure it out sooner rather than later.

“Time to go,” Keeley says. She gets up and kisses Jamie's less injured cheek. “Call me if you need anything. Get better, babe.” She pats Roy’s cheek as she passes him.

“Here,” Roy sets Jamie's stuff. “Can't have you in your bloody kit. Then we can head out.”

Jamie goes to stand up and wobbles on his feet, and Roy knows that's not going to work. He kicks the door closed. “Right, let's get this done.” He carefully helps Jamie change. He avoids making eye contact with the striker as he does because that was a line Roy couldn’t cross now. He wasn’t sure his fucking heart could take it. A bruised Jamie Tartt, shirtless and trusting Roy to look after him. That did fucking things to Roy that Roy was not ready to deal with. Especially since Jamie had a concussion.

“Thanks,” Jamie mumbles since his system is flooded with painkillers.

“Ready?” Roy asks.

“Yeah,” Jamie says with a nod. He winces at the flair of pain that causes.

“Alright, words are fine. No need to rattle your brain even more.”

“Yeah, okay.”

Jamie barely says anything as Roy drives to Jamie's flat. He manages to get the injured striker inside, cleaned up and in bed. Jamie is in and out of it most of the day. It's not until the following day that Jamie really wakes up, his head throbbing, and realizes that Roy has spent the night and has been taking care of him. Jamie finds pills and water beside his bed and a note telling him to take them and come downstairs. Jamie can barely look at his own face in the mirror as he does what he needs to in the bathroom. He shouldn't be surprised to find Roy in his kitchen again, but this time Roy moves to meet him as Jamie makes it down the stairs.

“Morning,” Roy says. “Seem more steady on your feet already.”

Jamie hums and shuffles to the kitchen.

“Sit,” Roy tells him, and Jamie does. Roy gets him a cup of tea and a plate of food. “Eat.” Jamie looks unsure.

“Jamie,” Roy says, lowering himself to Jamie's eye level. “You need to eat, or those pills will tear up your stomach. And with all the stomach issues you’ve had recently, we don't want to make it worse.” Jamie agrees and eats. That's when he notices the time. The team would be well into training. And Jamie understands why he isn't going to training. But Roy should be there.

“Not going in?” he asks.

“No,” Roy states. Jamie can't see all that well right now, but he can still tell that Roy doesn't look happy.

“Roy, you don't have to babysit me,” Jamie insists.

“Your loss,” Roy says. “Phoebe thinks I'm a fantastic sitter.”

“She's 8, and you are her most favorite person in the world,” Jamie says.

“Yeah, because I'm the best fucking sitter,” Roy says with no sign of sarcasm or humor.

“You're serious, aren't you?” Jamie asks.

“You're head's fucked enough, you don't need me being a prick.”

“Okay, but-”

“I'm not going in because I told them if they don't fucking deal with Zava, then I'm not going back.”

Jamie can’t believe Roy gave them an ultimatum because of him. “You have to go back,” Jamie tells him.

“Not really,” Roy assures him.

“The team needs you,” Jamie argues.

“The team needs not to have a fucking asshole that does this kind of shit on fucking purpose.” And Roy knows he fucked up when Jamie rushes to his feet. Roy follows Jamie as the younger man barely reaches the toilet to lose what little he has eaten. Unfortunately, that means his meds too. And between the pain and the anxiety, Jamie can't take it. He sobs, and Roy holds him tight.

Roy doesn't move other than to comfort the injured man. Only when Jamie can breathe without gasping does he even consider it.

“Why?” Jamie manages to ask.

“Why would I not go back?” Roy asks for clarification.

Jamie nods.

“Because I'm not going to work for a fucking hypocrite. Lasso made me deal with you when you were a prick, and you changed for the better. He let Zava do the same shit too long, and it's only because he pulled this shit in front of the whole fucking team and was caught on security cameras; it’s a problem. Told them to deal with it, or I would send the video to Sky Sports.”

“Is that even legal?”

“He knew what the fuck he was doing,” Roy tells him. “And so do I. Zava wants to keep his fucking reputation, then he has to fucking leave.”

“And if we start losing again?”

“Is the league worth the fucking pain? Seriously, this fucking idiot is beyond fucking help. I won't watch him ruin your life just so the team wins. I'm sure the team would agree if they knew.”

In the afternoon, Jamie's phone is practically blowing up with messages, and his head hurts. So Roy tucks him back in and takes his phone so he can let the pain meds work and get some rest.

“The fuck did you do?” Roy answers his phone.

“Hello to you too, Coach,” Ted says. “How is he?”

“I had to take his phone away because he threw up his morning meds, and it was constantly going off.”

“We showed the team the video,” Ted says. “So they could understand why Zava is off the team.”

“So he's gone, good. Fucking took long enough.”

“Had to ensure he wouldn't try to turn this around on us. Or worse, you and Jamie.”

“If any of those idiots show up here and ring the doorbell, I will make them miserable.”

“They shouldn't. They know he needs to rest and heal.”

“Good.”

“I’ll tell him when he wakes up.”

Roy sits on the edge of Jamie's bed. He gives in and runs his hands gently through Jamie's hair to wake him. He can’t lie to himself any longer. He cares for Jamie a lot more than he should, but he can’t help himself. He smiles at the way Jamie hums and leans into Roy’s touch.

“Got good news,” Roy says, which seems enough to wake Jamie the rest of the way. “Zava's off the team, and the team’s more worried about you than anything.”

“He's gone, and they aren't mad?”

“Not mad at you, for you, maybe, but not at you.”

“Not mad at you either, right?”

“Maybe, but only because I took your phone away so they couldn't talk to you.”

That makes Jamie chuckle.

“This means you're going back, right?” Jamie asks.

“Yes, now up you get. Food. Meds. Then you can have your phone.”

Jamie hates sitting on the sidelines as the team struggles to score match after match. Knowing he's the reason Zava is gone twists something in his stomach. And knowing that the team has a friendly in fucking Amsterdam, of all places, makes him even more anxious. Roy is worried even before anyone packs for the trip. Keeley had texted Roy that she was supposed to help him pack since she hadn't spent much time with Jamie recently, but Jamie's not acting like his usual self. He might get to play in Amsterdam, so they both figure it's nerves about getting back into it. So Roy goes over. The three of them get dinner, but Keeley has to leave after. Roy thinks Jamie's doing okay, but the minute the coach asks what Jamie's going to do outside of the match in Amsterdam, he sees how Jamie starts to sweat and pale slightly.

“Jamie, look at me,” Roy says, and when Jamie seems to be too in his own head, Roy grips the striker’s face as gently as he can since he is still a bit sore. “I'm here, Jamie. You don't have to be scared of anything. You can tell me or don't tell me. But I'm not going to leave you like this. Fuck, I'll pack your fucking bag, you might not like it, but I will.” That earns a breathy laugh from the player. “I'll be with you every step of the way if you need me to.”

Jamie can't help it. He leans his forehead against Roy's and closes his eyes. Because that actually is extremely helpful. It does make him feel so much better.

“Fuck it,” Roy mutters. With a hand on the back of Jamie's neck, he shifts until his lips find Jamie’s own. He feels that Jamie shutters at the sensation before it's like the younger man puts all his energy into returning the kiss. When they break for air, Roy checks to ensure Jamie's cuts don't reopen. Jamie crawls into Roy's lap and kisses him.

“Feeling better?” Roy says, a slight grin pulling at his features.

“Fucking fantastic,” Jamie grins.

2 notes · View notes

amberjazmyn · 2 months

Text

when you tell me that you love me

𝓲𝓶𝓪𝓰𝓲𝓷𝓮 - when you tell me that you love me

𝔀𝓪𝓻𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼 - objection at a wedding, childhood best friends finally express their feelings, sam saves his childhood best friend from an unhappy marriage, jessica and all of sam's other love interests do not exist

𝓭𝓮𝓼𝓬𝓻𝓲𝓹𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷 - sam never thought that the love he had for his childhood best friend, ophelia would be told to anyone, that was until he found out she was getting married to someone he knew that she would never consciously marry unless she was being forced to.

𝓪𝓾𝓽𝓱𝓸𝓻'𝓼 𝓷𝓸𝓽𝓮 - just because i wanted to write something, this is what we're getting! and whilst the title suggests that this includes the lyrics from westlife's duet with diana ross when you tell me that you love me, it does not, i just decided to call it that.

masterlist listen to "when you tell me that you love me" by westlife and diana ross here!!

- - -

sam couldn't believe the envelope he was just given by dean, his older brother. the girl he had been in love with the moment he caught eyes with her, ophelia callahan, was getting married to harrison halliday. the one lad that ophelia said she'd never ever marry over her dead body because he was a "right foul git" as ophelia once put it when the three of them, sam, ophelia and harrison, were in high school together. she was inviting him and his brother to her and harrison's wedding. besides, sam didn't even know they were dating at all since it seemed as though harrison was dating someone else. because ophelia gladly ignored the dude's advances even though he was thought to be dating a whole other chick from downtown kansas. but, apparently not since he and opehlia were now an item and getting married.

dean watched quietly as his younger brother read the envelope and worried when sam didn't say anything straight away. but, was advised not to say anything from castiel, the angel that lived with them and charlie when he went to say something. but, dean listened, nodding his head as they waited for sam to speak first.

and when he did, the tears in his eyes were noticeable, "...i feel sick..." sam whispered as his breathing was shaky, dean, charlie and cas looking at each other with worry

"...what does the letter say, sammy?" dean whispered back as he stepped forward carefully as sam closed his eyes tightly and shook his head, the rsvp letter falling into dean's hand

dean then read it himself and his mouth dropped, castiel and charlie reacted similarly as they ghosted their heads above dean's shoulder to read it for themselves, "oh, sammy, i am so sorry..." dean whispered as he threw the rsvp letter of ophelia and harrison's wedding to the ground and pulled his younger brother into his arms for a hug

"...i didn't even know they were dating, ophelia had always hated him when we were in high school. as did i but, she despised him, she even out loud one day called him a "right foul git" after he had tried to feel up her arse underneath her school skirt and now they're getting married?" soft, silent, warm tears streamed down sam's cheeks as his voice stayed quiet

sam was heartbroken, he was absolutely head over heels in love with ophelia. ever since he was twelve years old and that wasn't even the age they had met. they had been friends since diapers because their parents, john and mary winchester and mr & mrs callahan went to school together and hunted together. mrs callahan and mary at one high school and john and mr callahan at a different high school. so, it seemed as though it was destined for sam and ophelia to meet and become the best of friends and, maybe one day, fall in love and become the ultimate power couple. except, that never happened. mary winchester was dead and had been way before the kids were old enough and john went crazy leaving his boys to start the hunt for the demon that killed mary. meaning that the childhood friends, sam and ophelia, lost touch with one another. that was, until sam had come back to lebanon kansas after hunting for john with his brother dean. but before that, he returned because john hadn't returned back from a hunting trip, except he didn't know that. dean did, dean knew because he was the one that stayed in the hunting life. and dean knew he couldn't do it on his own so he went to sam's school at stanford. and then, from there, sam and opehlia got back into contact with one another.

"oh, sammy, well, it's obvious she still loves you enough to invite you to the wedding. did she say you could bring someone with you so you're not going alone?" charlie then spoke up as sam and dean pulled out of their hug as sam nodded his head

"she said i could invite all of you..." sam sniffled, wiping his tears away as charlie, dean and castiel nodded their heads with soft smiles on their faces

they all were going to go to that bloody wedding of ophelia and harrison's so, they did...

...and that's why sam was now sitting down in the second row, middle seat, dean to sam's right, charlie to sam's left and castiel next to charlie. in all fairness, even though it made sam sick to his stomach, he couldn't lie that this wedding venue wasn't gorgeous because it was truly a sight for sore eyes. and it was obvious that opehlia had picked it out because there was absolutely no way that harrison would have put his hand up in choosing this as his wedding venue.

and, as much as sam hated to admit it, it did seem as though ophelia was somewhat in love with harrison otherwise, she wouldn't be caught dead marrying the foul git. but, even then, sam did acknowledge that it did seem as though harrison did clean up his ways and realised how foul of a person he was in high school. but, that still didn't make it any easier for sam to watch his childhood best friend marry the man who was basically her high school bully and the boy who taunted her and sexually harrassed her by attempting to place his hand up her school skirt.

it was clear to sam that his brother and best friends, dean especially, were also unimpressed but taken aback as well, "i hate to admit it sammy but, it does seem as though harrison's cleaned up his act since you guys were at school together," dean discreetly whispered, thankful that their middle row was just basically the four of them and only a couple of people in front of them and another two or three behind them

and, agreeing with his brother, sam agreed, "i'm unfortunately with you there dean, and i hate that i'm saying it. but, i'm still confused as to why ophelia would have said yes to marrying him. she basically pinky promised me that she'd never be caught alive let alone dead marrying him," he whispered back, feeling tears that he thought had been all cried out well in his tear ducts as dean sighed softly, rubbing his shoulder as sam accepted the comforting gesture

"i know, sammy but, there could be the possibility that she was forced. i mean, just look at her wedding dress, from what you've told me, charlie and cas about ophelia, she wouldn't be caught dead wearing that sort of a dress either..." dean trailed off as sam finally paid attention to his best friend's wedding dress and he almost recoiled in disgust, dean was right, what on god's green earth was she wearing?

ophelia hates big bows on shirts let alone on a wedding dress. why did she pick that dress out of any other dress she could have seen whilst out dress shopping for her wedding? especially when she was always wearing crop tops, tight jeans and flannels with cowboy boots as her every day look. the only "bow" being the bow that held her hair together in its generic half-up half-down look. then, it clicked in sam's head. he noticed the look in ophelia's eyes when her search for her childhood best friend was over when she finally noticed him in the crowd. dean was right, ophelia was forced into marrying harrison and that nearly made sam scream out fury.

sam then noticed that the look in ophelia's eyes was the look of needing a way out of this wedding. so, sam did the one thing he thought he could do. and that was objecting to the wedding...

...and that's what he did.

"...should anyone present know of any reason that this couple should not be joined in holy matrimony, speak now or forever hold your peace..." the pastor of the wedding announces and without a second longer to spare, someone spoke up

"...i...i object..." a shaky, gruff voice full of emotion from the second row, middle seat speaks up

the voice belonging to ophelia's childhood best friend, sam winchester and the looks on basically everyone's faces were relief and joy. except for sam's family, dean, charlie and castiel who had looks of pride and a little bit of shock that he had actually gone through with it. as well as the faces of harrison and his family who were not at all happy about the objection.

and, it seemed as though pastor was relieved that sam had objected. it was obvious to the other guests that this was a pastor that was from the high school the three of them (sam, ophelia and harrison) went to and knew that this marriage wouldn't work. but, decided to do the wedding ceremony anyway, with the hope that someone would object.

since sam did object to the wedding, the ceremony was put on hold and sam, ophelia and harrison along with the pastor went away into a private room. as sam was then asked to provide the pastor with a legitimate reason for his objection to ophelia marrying harrison. otherwise, the wedding would have to continue but, the pastor knew that sam had a good enough reason to be objecting this wedding.

"...sam winchester, do my eyes deceive me? is there any specific reason for your objection to this union?" the pastor question in honestly, quite an exhausted tone

although he knew the reason, because it was pretty obvious since he had known these three now young adults since they were children as sam nodded his head and provided his reason.

"isn't it obvious that ophelia's been forced to marry harrison? i mean, pastor, you've known the three of us since high school and, even you'd know that opehlia would never ever be caught dead or alive wearing this type of dress. with big, obnoxious bows everywhere on it. you know how claustrophobic it makes her when she has to wear a top with small bows on it, let alone a dress with oversized bows on it. the only way she wears bows are the ones she wears in her hair. and besides harrison, you literally sexually assaulted opehlia when you tried to stick your hand up her skirt back in our senior year just before i left. and, opehlia, last time i saw you, you said to my very own face with your very own mouth and words that harrison was a "right foul git" and that was once again before i left kansas. what happened to thinking that about him and that being your opinion of him? as i seriously doubt that someone like him could really change and become a great human being all of a sudden. besides, i...i love you opehlia. i've loved you ever since we were twelve years old..."

"...i thought you left because you didn't love me, sam..." ophelia whispered, her arms wrapped around her waist as she couldn't help but agree with everything her best friend had said

which included the part about how she loathed the dress she was wearing - she felt as though it made her look too big and ugly. along with the fact that it indeed did make her feel claustrophobic.

but, sam shook his head, "...i didn't leave kansas because i didn't love you, opehllia. it was always you, i just couldn't leave knowing what was going on with my dad because of what dean told me! i just...i guess i was distracted because we got slightly too obsessed with finding him but, by the time we left to find him, we couldn't deal with the long distances and never being able to find him and i just never got around to..."

"...shut up sammy, just kiss me! you're right, i don't love harrison, and i was forced to marry him and i never wanted to wear this dress either! the only say i had about this whole damn wedding was the venue!" ophelia was desperate as she wrecked her hairstyle which was clearly done by harrison's good for nothing, helicopter mother and ran into sam's awaiting arms

and then, it was like a bit of a fairytale or a rom-com when sam and ophelia kissed in front of the pastor and harrison. it was clear that the pastor didn't need any more information since it was obvious that harrison wasn't trying to defend himself from sam's claims. so, it was obvious that the pastor couldn't allow this union to continue so, he didn't. and he was glad that he didn't allow it to be continued because of sam's objection and deceleration of love for his childhood best friend

"well, i don't need any more convincing from these two and i don't need you, harrison, to say anything else. so, i will not be allowing this union to continue. opehlia and harrison, the both of you will not be getting married today and, phee, darling, i suggest you end the relationship with him entirely. sam is definitely the better one for you but, don't tell anyone i said that to you," the pastor winked at the end as ophelia couldn't the smile as she rested her head against sam's chest as she nodded her head

the pastor then walked away and, it didn't take much longer nor more convincing for harrison to take off his engagement ring and then hold his hand out for opehlia to give him hers so, she did. and then, off harrison went to tell his family that the wedding and relationship were ended entirely and that it was time to leave. and then, the only people left in the small little room were sam and ophelia.

"i will, thank you, pastor. and, sammy, thank you. i mean, i can't thank you enough for objecting to this wedding, i mean, i can't believe i even said yes to this engagement. i was just, i truly had no idea what to do and, i know i could have come to you but, i just..."

sam couldn't stand hearing his best friend falter away into a rant of panic so the only way he thought he could shut her up was to kiss her so, he did.

"...shut up, opehlia. it's done now. you'll never see harrison's face ever again. and neither will i." sam whispered, his hands clutching ophelia's face as she smiled softly and nodded her head

"yeah...yeah, we'll never have to see his face ever again. great, i like the sound of that..." ophelia breathed out, feeling calm until she remembered, she was still wearing the dress and, all of a sudden, she was feeling claustrophobic

and, straight away, sam realised what was going on.

"...what's going on phee, what do you need?" sam questioned as ophelia pointed towards her dress as sam nodded his head

"the dress...i need...i can't breathe sammy...i need to get this dress off of me..." ophelia started to sob and sam nodded his head

"...okay darlin', we can get this dress off. do you have something else you can change into?" sam asked softly as she nodded her head, and sam's eyes widened, she really had thought of this objection actually happening

"yes, sammy, i...i have a champagne-coloured maxi dress just there in the bag behind you, could you please grab it for me?" ophelia asks as sam smiles and nods his head, grabbing the dress for his best friend

handing it to her, she smiles and the two of them stand awkwardly, not really knowing what to do anymore. that was when ophelia spoke up again.

"...oh, um, sam, could...could you please help me with getting this dress off me?" ophelia questioned with a soft tearful giggle as sam nodded his head, stepping closer and unzipping the hideous wedding dress off of ophelia for her

"there you go, yeah, sorry..." sam trailed off nervously as ophelia giggled as she noticed him turn around, so as not to look at her as she puts on her other dress

"...you know you don't have to turn around, sammy. it's not like you haven't seen me naked before..." ophelia trailed off as sam chuckled and turned back around shyly

"...yeah, that's true..." sam trailed off as ophelia noticed why her best friend was acting so strange around her all of a sudden after he just saved her life and stopped her from marrying the guy she truly hated as she slipped effortlessly into the other maxi dress

"...oh, sammy. are you acting shy around me because i didn't respond to you telling me you loved me and i just kissed you?" ophelia questioned as sam shook his head, absolutely not, he just felt himself always acting shy around ophelia because of the fact he loved her

"oh, no, no! that's not at all why i'm shy around you, opehlia. i'm shy around you because of the fact that i love you. i've never loved any other girl the way i've loved you..." sam was about to spiral out of control (again) when ophelia just had to shut him up so, she did

"...i love you sam winchester! i love you so bloody much that it hurt standing up at that altar knowing that you and your brother dean and charlie and cas were watching me potentially marry someone else. and that someone else being harrison halliday. i...i don't even know how i let myself date him and actually survive with him because he was the shittiest boyfriend/fiancé you could ever imagine him to be. he was always angry, he was always making me wear certain clothes and he was always speaking for me as if my opinion or voice didn't matter. and so many other things that it infuriates me that he got away with it for so long. except, you're the complete opposite and i love how happy, how kind, how caring and how gorgeous you are, dean. you're my best friend in the entire world and our parents didn't meet each other and have kids just for us to fall out all because i nearly married a man that wasn't even the man of my dreams...so, i'll say it again, i love you sam winchester and you're the one that i want to spend the rest of my life with, that is if you let..."

"...i love you even more ophelia callahan and i want to spend the rest of my life with you as well. of course, i'm gonna let you spend the rest of your life with me because i want you in the rest of mine, and not just as my best friend..." sam declared as ophelia smiled, the champagne dress that she had seemingly just thrown on looked absolutely beautiful on her and so effortless as she stepped closer to sam

"...then kiss me, sammy, prove it to me that you want me forever..." ophelia whispered as sam smiled and nodded his head

the two adults moved closer to one another, hands touching cheeks and mouths moving closer as their mouths connected and it was like a bolt of lightening erupted over the both of them. the spark clearly there and, the two just continued kissing one another. it wasn't until they heard the clearing of a throat that sam and ophelia moved apart from one another. worried that it was someone from harrison's family, they breathed a sigh of relief when they saw it was only sam's brother dean and castiel and charlie.

sam spoke up first, "we're proud of you sammy for objecting to the wedding. and i'm sure ophelia is more than appreciative. however, there is a particular family out in the church that is furthest from happiest. but, they've been kicked out so, don't worry, they can't touch you or hurt either of you. we just thought that we'd tell you that ophelia's family is beyond happy that you saved their daughter from marrying someone as dodgy as harrison. and those were the words that came out of mrs callahan's mouth, not mine!" everyone chuckled at the last sentence that dean said as ophelia smiled, holding sam's hand tightly as they both knew that would be how mrs callahan would react

"no, thank you, dean, cas and charlie for convincing sam into coming to the wedding. as i can only just imagine how painful it would have been to see the rsvp invitation in the mail without any other notice from me that i was getting married let alone dating harrison..." ophelia trailed off as the other three quickly noticed the tight grip sam and ophelia had on each other's hands

"...and, why didn't you tell me that you were marrying let alone dating harrison? you never explained that..." sam trailed off as ophelia scoffed softly and shook her head, still mad over this next part of the whole story

"...i wasn't allowed to. harrison knew of our close relationship and forbade me from letting you know of me and harrison's relationship let alone upcoming nuptials until literally the day when you were given the invitation..." ophelia trailed off as sam was brewing with anger as he shook his head

due to this anger, he was grateful that ophelia was still holding his hand otherwise he would have left the back room they were in and tried to find harrison.

"...what a foul git that fucker is!" sam growled as ophelia giggled, comforting sam, her hand brushing against his cheek softly

"he's gone now, sammy. and like you said before, we'll never have to see or deal with him ever again," ophelia comforted as sam nodded his head and took in a deep breath as dean, charlie and castiel watched with small smiles

they were smiling because they knew that finally, sam and ophelia were going to be together forever and no one could take that away from them.

°∘❉∘°

it wasn't even a month after the wedding objection that sam uncovered the engagement ring that he had found for ophelia. and then decided that it was time for them to start planning their own forever together. sam went down on one knee another couple of months later when the couple were just minding their own business doing some laundry in the bunker since there had been no sightings of supernatural beings or anything lately.

ophelia huffed, wiping some sweat off the top of her head of hair when she turned around, confused as to where her boyfriend sam was

that was until she looked down at the ground, "...marry me ophelia anna sophia callahan, i've loved you ever since we were twelve years old and i never stopped loving you. please, you said the next time you have a wedding, you wanted it to be with your dream man, and i think that is me so, please, marry me and become ophelia anna sophia winchester?" sam questioned as ophelia stepped back in shock and giggled in pure joy, a hand covering her mouth

"oh, sammy! yes, i...i did say that...of course, i'd love to marry you! sam, this ring is gorgeous! how long have you had it for?" ophelia was flattered and taken aback as she kneeled down to the floor with sam as tears of joy welled in his eyes

"i...i had actually first bought it a couple of months before i was sent the invitation for you and harrison's wedding but then i...i of course hid it away because i no longer needed it. but then, a couple of months ago, i found it again and decided that you only wanted forever with the love of your life and, i thought that was me..." sam got cheeky at the end even though he was at this point in tears as ophelia giggled

"...oh, my love, of course, that's you! it's always going to be you!" ophelia giggled joyfully

as sam didn't waste any more time in delicately placing the gorgeous diamond engagement ring on ophelia's ring finger on her left hand

"mrs ophelia winchester sounds quite nice, don't you think?" sam whispered, a singular tear trickling down his cheek as ophelia smiled, wiping it away with a head nod

"it sounds perfect, sammy," she smiled as she rested her hand against sam's chest and her head against his shoulder as they embraced one another, now up off from the laundry floor

"yeah, perfect..."

- - -

so, this was not the way i wanted it to end but, i love it the same way! and i'm so glad i wrote it, just sweet, short and simple! i do apologise for how short it is but, i didn't want to add in a wedding just in case i decide to do a part two later down the line! also, i don't write about the show supernatural more than i do the actors so i thought i'd change that as well.

ok bye ily xx

wc; 4050

#supernatural #sam winchester #dean winchester #charlie bradbury #castiel #when you tell me that you love me #angst with a happy ending

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aspenmissing · 10 months

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𝙱𝚘𝚛𝚗 𝚄𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚊 𝙱𝚊𝚍 𝚂𝚒𝚐𝚗 (𝙿𝚝 𝟸)

An insistent knocking awakens Dean. He realizes that he is on the floor of the motel room; the motel manager, who had been knocking, opens the door.

"Hey. It's past your checkout" Dean gets up, very groggy and walks over to the manager.

"What?" He asks.

"It's past checkout, and I've got a couple here needs your room" Dean turns his head to see an embarrassed businessman with a hooker.

"Yeah, I'll bet they do. What time is it?"

"Twelve-thirty"

"The guy and woman who was with me, have you seen them?"

"Yeah, they left before dawn in your car, he was carrying her, said she drank a bit much. You should have gone with them, because now I'm gonna have to charge you extra"

"Oh, son of a..." Dean mutters.

"It's just policy, sir"

"I need to use your computer" Dean says.

"Now, why would I let you use my computer?" Later, the Manager is counting a stack if cash, as Dean talks on the phone behind him, in front of a desktop computer.

"Hi, uh, sorry to bother you, but uh, my son and daughter snuck out of the house last night and, uh, went to a Justin Timberlake concert" There is a small pause "What? Yeah. No, Justin is quite the triple threat. Uh, anyway, they're not back yet, and, and I'm just, I'm just starting to worry" There is a small pause "Right. Yeah, kids will be kids. But see, Sammy is uh, uh, uh, a diabetic, and Y/N has uh, has asthma attacks and she didn't bring her inhaler, I just, I have to find them. Please, I'm begging you. Yeah, no, no, no, I'm on the website right now, I just need to activate the GPS in their cell phones" Dean enters a password; his GPS screen shows the name 'Dean J. Mahogoff', mobile phone number 785-555-2804 "Yeah, right there. Duluth, Minnesota. Yeah, that is a long way to go for a concert. I appreciate your help"

Jo is scrubbing the bar and saying goodnight to some customers.

"Good night, thank you" she says. Sam enters and clears his throat.

"Sorry, we're closing up" Jo says, her back turned to him.

"How about just one for the road?" Jo turns to face him, not looking welcoming.

"Well, you're about the last person I'd expect to see"

"Well, I guess I'm full of surprised. So can I get a beer?"

"Sure. One beer" Jo brings a bottle of beer over and sets it down on the bar firmly, then turns away, bustling over cleaning up the bar “So how'd you find me?"

"Well, uh, it's kind of what we do, you know?"

"Speaking of 'we', where's Dean and Y/N?" She asks.

"They couldn't make it"

"So, what're you doing here Sam? I mean we didn't exactly part on the best of terms. Well, me and Y/N, but not us"

"Right. Um, well, that's why I'm here" Sam takes off his jacket "I kinda -- I wanted to see if we could square things, you know?" As Sam takes off his jacket, Jo notices a circular burn mark with a short line through it on Sam's forearm.

"That looks like it hurts"

"No. Nah, just, just had a run-in with a hot stove"

"So, you were saying something about squaring things?"

"Yeah. Um ... Look, I know how you feel about my dad. And I can't say I blame you. He was obsessed -- consumed with hunting. And he didn't care who got caught in the cross-fire. And I guess that included your dad. But that was my father. That's not me"

"What about Dean and Y/N?"

"Well according to Dean, Y/N was more like my mom, but Dean. Dean's more like my father than I am, but h-..." Sam sees Jo's off look and laughs a little "Boy. You're really carrying a torch for him, aren't you?" Jo scoffs, uncomfortably "I'll take that as a yes. It's too bad" Sam is smiling tightly "'Cause see, Dean, he likes you, sure, but not in the way you'd want. I mean, maybe as kind of a . . . a little sister, just how Y/N thinks of you, you know? But -- romance, that's just out of the question, he --" Sam laughs "he kind of thinks you're a schoolgirl, you know? And Y/N, she thinks you need to be babied and that you’re not strong enough to hunt" There is a small pause "I'm not trying to hurt you, Jo, I -- I'm telling you 'cause I care"

"That's real kind of you, Sam" Jo says sarcastically.

"I mean it" Sam places a hand over hers on the bar, suggestively, possessively "I care about you a lot"

"Sam, what's going on?" She asks. She tries to pull her hand away but he holds it and won't let go.

"I can be more to you, Jo"

"Maybe you should leave"

"Okay" Sam shoves her hand away and stands to leave; Jo turns to face the bar, leaning on it heavily. Suddenly Sam reappears, grabbing her from behind and manhandling her.

"Sam, get off me! Sam! Get off me! Let go!" She closes her right hand on a beer bottle, but before she can hit him with it, he grabs her wrist and slams it onto the bar, shattering the bottle.

"Jo, Jo, Jo" She shoves her around until she faces the bar and pins her there, left hand over her wrist, right hand stroking her hair.

"Sam, no! No! Please! Please!" She screams. He slams her forehead into the bar; she is knocked out, and he lifts her carefully to lie on the bar, stroking her hair in a disturbingly gentle manner.

"It didn't have to be this way. Maybe it did" He gives her an evil grin. He picks her back up and ties her to a wide wooden post. He goes outside to the Impala and opens the shotgun door. He chuckles as he hears a noise in the backseat and opens the door, seeing Y/N against the door on the other side. "Come on big sister. You said it yourself; you don't need to be scared of me" He grabs her ankles and pulls her towards him. He manhandles her back to the bar lays her down on the bar.

"Sammy" She says sluggishly "Please, stop" He goes over to a rack and finds a belt. He walks back over to Y/N and puts in in her mouth. He walks around the bar to find a First Aid and puts it next to her head, which is lulling side to side, her eyes slightly open and skin pale from blood loss. Sam takes out bandages, tweezers, needle and thread, gauze and scissors.

"Sorry big sister, but this is gonna hurt. A lot. But this bullet needs to come out before it closes up" Sam says, smirking. He uses the scissors to cut her shirt a little from the bottom, revealing her bloody wound. He pours some alcohol onto her wound and he arches her back and bits down on the belt. Sam pushes her back down forcefully. And without any warning he sticks the tweezers into her wound in search of the bullet. She thrashes in pain until Sam, having enough, knocks her out. He digs deep until he feels the bullet, pulling it out slowly and just throws it down on the floor. He grabs the needle and threat and saws her wound up before placing the gauze over and bandages. He strokes her cheek with an evil grin "There. Now that wasn't so hard"

A jukebox starts playing The Doors' "Crystal Ship". Nearby, Sam is tying a groggy Y/N to another wide wooden post just as Jo slowly wakes up and looks around.

"What the hell is going on? What are you doing? What the hell have you done to Y/N?" She asks, looking to Y/N.

"So, what exactly did your mom tell you about how your dad died?"

"You're not Sam."

"Don't be so sure about that. Answer the question," Jo says nothing; Sam sighs heavily and goes around to the other side; he sits in front of her, leaning in, his expression shifting to one of open concern. He pulls out a large knife and strokes her face with it. "Come on. It's me. You can tell me anything, you know that. Answer. The question."

"Fine."

"Our dads were in California: Devil's Gate Reservoir. They were setting a trap for some kind of hellspawn. John was hiding, waiting, and my dad was bait," Sam laughs.

"That's just like John. Oh, I'll bet he dangled Bill like meat on a hook. Then what?" He gets up and goes around to stand behind her.

"The thing showed up. John got too eager, jumped out too soon, got my dad exposed, out in the open. The thing turned around...and killed him." Sam leans in from behind Jo.

"Hmm. Not quite."

"Sam... don’t," Y/N says sluggishly.

"What?" Jo asks.

"What? Oh. See, it hurt him. It didn't kill him. You really don't know the truth, do you? I bet your mom doesn't either." Sam sits facing her again and leans in close.

"Know what?"

"You see, Bill...was all clawed up. Was holding his insides in his hands. He was gurgling and... praying to see you and Ellen one more time. So, my dad...killed him. Put him out of his misery like a sick dog."

"Leave her the hell alone!" Y/N shouts.

"You're lying. Right?" Jo says, sobbing and looks to Y/N.

"I'm not. It's true," Sam says in a quite singsong. "My daddy shot your daddy in the head..."

"How could you know that?" Sam stands up.

"I hear things." He stands and stabs the knife into the pillar, just above head level.

"Why are you doing this to me?"

"Like Daddy like daughter. You're bait. Open up." Sam shoves a knotted rag in her mouth and ties it around her neck. "That's a girl." Sam walks over to Y/N and lifts her head up before wrapping another rag around her mouth and tying it around her neck. The door then bursts open and Dean enters, gun out.

"Sam! Y/N!" Sam grabs the knife from the pillar, his calm expression shifting to one of desperate panic, and places the knife at Jo's throat.

"I begged you to stop me, Dean. You too Y/N," Sam yells, sounding more like Sam again.

"Put the knife down, dammit."

"I told you I can't fight it! My head feels like it's on fire, all right?! Dean. Kill me, or I'm going to kill her. Please. You'd be doing me a favour! Shoot me." Sam turns to face Dean, arms spread. "Shoot me!" Y/N shrugs the rag from around her mouth.

"Sammy. Please just, stop," she says. Dean stares, gun steady and looks at Jo and Y/N out of the corner of his eyes.

"No, Sammy, come on," Dean turns away, lowering the gun.

"What the hell's wrong with you, Dean? Are you that scared of being alone that you'd rather let Jo die?" Dean turns suddenly, flinging water from a flask at Sam; the water hisses and steams as it strikes.

"That's holy water, you demonic son of a bitch!" Sam raises his head; his eyes are the solid black of a demon's. Dean flings more holy water at him; Sam growls, turns and runs, bursting through a window and fleeing. Dean takes the knife and cuts Y/N free then Jo and she pulls the gag out of her knife as Dean and Y/N runs towards the shattered window.

"He was possessed?!" Dean turns and stares at her for a moment, then leaps through the window followed by Y/N. "Dean! Y/N!"

Dean, Y/N, and Possessed-Sam stalk each other through a dim, crowded warehouse, the three have handguns. During the following they never see each other directly, instead hiding stealthily behind piles and boxes and shouting at each other.

"So, who are you?" Y/N asks.

"I got lots of names."

"You've been in Sam since he disappeared, haven't you?"

"You shoulda seen your faces when you thought he murdered that guy. Pathetic."

"Why didn't you kill us? You had a dozen chances."

"Nah, that would have been too easy. Where's the fun in that? You see, this was a test. Wanted to see if I could push you far enough to waste Sam. Should've known you wouldn't have the sack. Anyway. Fun's over now."

"Well, I hope you got your kicks. 'Cause you're gonna pay hell for this, I'm gonna make sure of that."

"How? You can't hurt me. Not without hurting your little brother." Dean and Y/N are putting their guns away, pulling out the flask of holy water. "See, I think you two are gonna die, Dean, Y/N. You and every other hunter I can find. One look as Sam's dewey, sensitive eyes? They'll let me right in their door." Possessed-Sam gets up, heading outside; Dean and Y/N follow. They are on an open-air dock. Once Dean and Y/N are out in the open, looking around at the water, Sam steps out, takes aim, and shoots Dean, hitting him in the shoulder. Dean is knocked into the water with a splash. Y/N jumps in after him; Sam stalks to the edge and peers over where Dean fell and Y/N jumped; not seeing Dean or Y/N in the water, he smiles.

Jo is walking quickly through the docks, a flashlight in one hand and her cell phone in the other; she's calling Dean, and his voicemail picks up.

"This is Dean. Leave a message." Jo goes to ring Y/N, but her voicemail also picks up.

"Sorry I'm not here. Please leave a message." Jo hangs up the phone with a sigh of frustration and continues searching. Moments later she calls Dean again, and this time hears Dean's ringtone coming from below her, by the water. She runs down to where he is lying unconscious at the bottom of a ramp. Y/N is next to him, also unconscious.

"Dean! Y/N!" They wake with a groan, coughing; they're completely wet. "Take it easy."

"Where's Sam?" Dean asks, shuddering and groaning in pain.

"I don't know, I've been looking for you two. Come on, get up." Y/N stands and helps Jo to help Dean stand up. He leans on them heavily, groaning, clutching his shoulder, as they walk back to the bar. Later, Dean and Y/N have changed into warmer clothes. Dean is seated at a table, gripping the edge with his right hand, his left-hand holding Y/N's as Jo digs the bullet out of his left shoulder. He's groaning loudly.

"Don't be a baby!" Jo says.

"God!"

"Almost. All right, got it. Got it." She drops the bloodstained bullet in a glass of clear alcohol. Dean takes a few healthy swigs from a bottle of whiskey.

"If you search around here, you'll find my bullet," Y/N says, grabbing the bottle from Dean and taking a sip.

"Your bullet?" Dean asks.

"Oh yeah, Sam or the thing possessing him shot me in the motel room. It was my own fault. I should have never wrestled him knowing he had a cocked gun." Dean forces her to stand; He lifts it up, revealing bloody bandages and a gauze.

"Did he take it out?" Jo asks.

"Yeah. Hurt like a bitch but eventually he knocked me out." Jo continues to treat Dean's wound and he flinches in pain.

"God, you're a butcher."

"You're welcome," Jo says sarcastically.

"All right, are we done?"

"Would you give me two minutes to patch you up? You can't help Sam if you're bleeding to death." Dean takes another swig from the bottle as Jo continues layering gauze and tape over the wound. "So, how did you two know? That he was possessed?"

"Uh, we didn't, we just knew that it couldn't have been him."

"Hey, guys."

"Yeah?" They ask in unison.

"I know demons lie, but...do they ever tell the truth too?"

"Um, um, yeah, sometimes, I guess. Especially if they know it'll mess with your head." Dean takes another swig. "Why do you ask?"

"Nothing. Doesn't matter." Y/N looks to Jo with a sad expression. "So do you two have any idea where he's headed to next?"

"Well, so far he's been going after the nearest hunter, so...closest one I know lives in South Dakota," Dean says.

"Okay good, I'm done. Let's go."

"Yeah." Dean stands up. "You're not coming."

"The hell I'm not. I'm a part of this now."

"I can't say it plainer than this. You try to follow us and I'll tie you right back to that post and leave you here. This is our fight. We're not getting your blood on our hands. That's just how it's gonna be." Dean and Y/N turn to leave.

"Wait." They turn back and she throws Dean out a prescription pill bottle. "Here. Take these, they'll help with the pain." Y/N nods and smiles.

"Thanks. We'll call you later, okay?" Dean says and they leave.

"No, you won't," Jo says to herself after the twins leave. It's raining as Dean and Y/N drive down a dark stretch of road; Y/N dials a number on her cell. Elsewhere, a phone rings several times, until Sam cuts the phone line running outside the house with a knife. Y/N looks at her phone and sighs.

"Dammit," she says.

#supernatural #older sister winchester #supernatural fandom #supernatural fanfiction #reader insert

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lovelyirony · 7 years

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Silence is Golden, Observation is Platinum

ok guess what fuckers i found a super sad story idea about tony somehow losing his voice and the avengers actually like it better so let’s write it and cry (update: idea from @thoseironeyes so ur welcome i saw it and cried)

Tony was seriously annoyed that he was cursed with not talking. But were the Avengers going to know that he messed up and Loki told him that talking is unbecoming? No. Because he’s better than that, and he’ll get his voice back in a couple days after Bruce or Thor notice and flip out. Besides, he has things to do.

Sure, working with Jarvis is a little bit harder. He has nonverbal cues, learns a little bit of sign language, and wastes time by looking at videos of dolphins clicking to get around town. (Well, around sea, but that doesn’t matter. The scientist also named the dolphin Eric, but that’s dumb, so Tony named him Dennis instead.)

When he comes up to get food, he wants so badly to make the witty remark to just totally roast Barton, even if Natasha hits him on the arm for it. But sound won’t come out. His mouth opens, but he closes it again. If he writes it, then the comedic value is lost.

“No stupid commentary for once?” Clint sasses. “Wow Stark, you’re playing nice. I’m impressed.”

“Good job, Tony,” Steve says, flipping through the newspaper. (Ugh, Tony hates getting it delivered, newspapers are so last year.)

He’s floored by the fact that they don’t notice anything. He makes no sound. When Natasha has a nice pun, he can’t laugh. No sound comes out. Tony can’t talk, and they seemingly don’t care. They like it.

He tests it. When he watches a movie with Steve and Natasha, they say it’s nice that he doesn’t have the constant running commentary. (Screw you, his joke about Bruce the shark from Jaws was funny.) He doesn’t do anything in response. Natasha herself hasn’t even noticed anything; it’s like they ignore him.

Weeks go by, and no one notices that Tony hasn’t made a peep in over a month. They like it. Bruce says it’s calming to have total quiet in the lab, save for Tony’s music. Tony doesn’t say anything. He bans Friday from saying anything about it.

The next battle against Loki, he returns it. “I’m shocked they didn’t notice,” he muses, blasting his stupid freaking magic at the suit. (Tony hates magic.) “It must have been a nice reprieve for them, you not talking all the time. Wasting oxygen and breath with silly little comments.” Tony just scowls.

“You’re an asshat,” he mutters, voice coming out like water from a leaky faucet. He’s not used to it. But Loki painfully brought up a point; they liked Tony better when he wasn’t talking.

After the mission, Thor suggests Indian food. Tony really isn’t in the mood, but he eats same as them. He doesn’t say anything. Clint grins at him. Tony weakly smiles back, and thinks about what Loki said. Wasting oxygen and breath. He shouldn’t be doing that when people so obviously don’t care. Tony should’ve learned at an earlier age, what with Howard not paying attention to anything besides booze, inventions, and cars. No one has ever cared.

So, Tony doesn’t talk. He does his job, releases things, and no one cares. No one notices. The Avengers like it better when he doesn’t talk. So, it stops.

Not like anyone notices.

He texts them, yeah. But those are easier to articulate, easier to maneuver. Even Natasha can’t beat him at the texting game. It’s easier than talking, easier than babbling only to realize that no one really cared about the invention he had made for his lab. It wasn’t cool, it was just another thing to tune out.

He gets a small ray of hope when Bruce says that he hasn’t talked to Tony in forever.

“You did at the mission thingy,” Clint says. “You know, when you had to patch up Cap?”

“I did?” Clint shrugs. That’s the end of communication for them. Tony hasn’t talked to Bruce in three weeks and counting, not like it’s a big deal or anything.

Tony honestly thought they would notice by now. He wasn’t doing interviews, he wasn’t at the forefront of his company meetings talking about the new revolutionary tech; it was all Pepper and the other members of Research and Development.

Rhodey is the only one he periodically talks with, but Rhodey isn’t at the base. At least he would notice. Probably. Maybe. It was iffy.

When Rhodey gets to the tower, he notices.

None of the Avengers are spoken to. At first, he thinks that maybe Tony is giving them the silent treatment, and fists will be thrown if they did anything to Tony.

“Tony, why aren’t you talking to any of them?”

“They like it better when I don’t talk,” Tony says nonchalantly. “So I just don’t.” Rhodey’s throat constricts with shock and rage.

“Tony,” he says lowly. “What have I said about jerks who don’t want to talk to you?”

“Kick their asses and take names,” Tony says with a sigh. “Rhodey, I know. But maybe...maybe this is better.”

“No, it isn’t,” Rhodey says, anger growing. “If those clowns can’t handle you talking like you’re about to die from not talking, they’re not friends. They’re not going to be in this tower, making you feel like shit. That’s not how friendship works.” He storms off, towards the common room.

“When did Tony stop talking?” He demanded, looking straight at Natasha.

“What do you mean?” Clint responds for her. “He talks all the time.” Rhodey takes a deep breath. Lord, give him strength.

“No, he hasn’t,” Rhodey says. “The entire time I’ve been here, he hasn’t spoken a word to any of you. Jarvis, since apparently you’re the only one who knows anything around here, when was the last time Tony had an honest-to-god conversation with any of the Avengers?”

“Approximately two months and three days ago,” Jarvis answers. The silence is so stunning that Rhodey would probably win an Oscar for his presentation of facts.

“So none of you have even attempted conversation with him for over two months?” Rhodey asks, pinching the bridge of his nose. “None of you have...? God, I thought things couldn’t get worse, but no, this is the tip of the iceberg. Why haven’t any of you attempted conversations?”

“We didn’t notice that much of a change. Usually, Tony just talks about his inventions anyway, and we can’t really understand what’s going on. So we just, you know, tune it out,” Clint offers feebly.

“I’m sorry you’re angry with us, Colonel,” Steve says, “but I doubt you would’ve noticed a change if you had been with us.” There’s a silence so thick that Rhodey could cut it.

“Okay, listen up Shit-for-Brains, I’m only gonna say this once, so you better respect an army guy with a higher rank than you,” Rhodey says with a growl. “Tony talking all the time is awesome. You get so much out of it, and when he talks a lot about his inventions, it means he’s comfortable with whoever he’s with. But apparently, since all of you are Emotionally Constipated and can’t recognize signs of Unhealthy Activity Among Humans, I’m gonna spell it out for you. all of you suck. All of you need to shower him in gifts and appreciation, because guess who is living in one of the nicest places in the western hemisphere? Oh wait, not me.”

Tony just watches Rhodey go off. He’s silent (what else is new?) and almost smiling. He’s ripping them to shreds, and Natasha sidles up to Tony.

“I’m sorry,” she says simply. “Am I forgiven?”

“No,” Tony answers on instinct. “You owe me a hell of a lot, Natasha. It starts with listening to me tell you all about how you’re screwing up your weapons that I made for you.”

#if i cry you guys are gonna cry too #tony stark #why is anyone like this #i don't own the prompt #i just got inspired #this turned salty i'm sorry #rhodey is the best???#i didn't include sam because sam would notice sorry #all of this is just me being salty #rhodey is honestly the only person i'm here for

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stxrvel · 3 years

Text

mixed feelings (2)

summary: the second time you found out about one of Bucky's appointments, it hurt no less than the first.

pairing: bucky barnes x avenger!reader

words: +2.5k

warnings: i think this is angsty and mention of some bad words, and also you know Englist is not my native language, so sorry for any mistakes!

note: you can blame your eyes tell (bts) for the way this turned out, because i had definitely planned something a bit different, and totally less sad than this. but still, hope you enjoy and thank u for the support!

part 1

part 3

The mission with Steve wasn't too bad. A pile of physical files to go through and upload, hoping to find a lead on who you'd been looking for for weeks, half discarded and half scattered in a room in the Complex waiting to be reviewed. And while Bucky and Sam were right when they said you and Steve had silences, this time they weren't awkward, just moments when the two of you were focused on your pile or files, and filled the silence from time to time with questions or funny comments. It was a little different than you thought it would be, and you made a mental note not to allow yourself to be talked down to again.

The only one that left you wondering of your few conversations, was the one you had on the way back, in one of the agency trucks, with Steve sitting across from you in the back of the car:

“Have you talked to Bucky lately?” he had said, his hands clasped in front of him.

You frowned at him before replying, “Yeah, we talked a bit before we left.”

Steve merely nodded, his gaze turning back to the landscape you were leaving behind, with the mountains and their white peaks and the breeze that heralded autumn. You stood watching him, waiting for him to say more, but he kept his words to himself as if he had gotten all he needed to know.

“Why?” you couldn't help but ask.

He turned to watch you out of the corner of his eye before returning his gaze, shrugging a shoulder, trying to downplay his sudden curiosity to know something about you and Bucky. Steve had always kept his distance from his friend's relationships, and he'd especially kept his distance from you, so it struck you as odd that he decided to ask now.

“Nothing specific. I just wanted to... know.”

And there the conversation died, mainly because you could quickly deduce that he wasn't going to say anything else no matter how many times you asked. But the thorn of doubt hadn't been able to leave your head for the past three days, incessantly wondering what it was that he really wanted to know, as you sifted through document after document from the large pile you had brought back from the empty facility. Steve accompanied you from time to time, and you were sure he noticed your glance at his figure from time to time by the half-smile he gave you but never turned to look at you.

Suspicious.

“Y/N,” you heard your name in the distance. You turned your head, noticing Melissa, one of your roommates, one of the three with whom you shared the flat you were now in.

Everyone in the Complex had gone out, they just had things to do and you definitely had no plans to stay there locked in your room or wandering the halls alone. When you told Carla, another one of your roommates, she promptly asked you to go, as they were cooking a big dinner and not to celebrate anything specific, just to spend a Friday night comfortably and all together, and surely at the end they would watch a horror movie.

These moments were one of the reasons why you had decided to maintain a constant visit to the flat despite almost living in the Complex. Your roommates didn't hesitate to include you in their plans at any time, no matter where you were or what you were doing, they would wait for you to arrive to start.

Except this time Melissa, Carla and Tim had already started cooking when you wrote to them.

“There's more cheese missing for the sauce, would you mind going to the shop?” Tim looked at you with a little pout.

“But don't go to the one on the corner,” Carla spoke next, her hands nimbly chopping a vegetable on the wooden board, “When you arrived, did you see that Mrs. Williams opened her own shop on the first floor, next to reception?”

You nodded to Carla, as you started to get up and made your way to the counter in front of the kitchen to take some of the money you kept for shopping.

“Buy her a pound of mozzarella cheese and a pound and a half of cheddar cheese.”

“What's the difference from the cheeses at the corner shop?”

“Mrs. Williams' nephew made the cheeses she's selling and honestly, they're some of the best cheese I've ever tasted in my entire life,” Carla praised and Melissa hummed in agreement with her.

“We pulled out some of the one we bought at noon, and it's like a heaven of sensations exploding in your mouth. Just delicious.”

Tim let out a laugh and trotted over to stop in front of you at the counter, “Imagine Melissa with the same expression as Remy from Ratatouille.”

You accompanied him with a laugh as Melissa watched you with narrowed eyes, “If I didn't have my hands full with this fruit, I'd strangle you, Jones.”

You watched Tim roll his eyes before continuing on with his assigned task in the kitchen.

With the money in your hands, you hurried to the exit with a smile on your face. Being in the flat with them was like restarting your day, if it had been a bad one, or completely sweetening a bitter day. You turned the doorknob to open the door and stepped out, just as you heard the jingle of the elevator stopping on your floor. You started to walk straight to the stairs, because it wasn't too far from your flat to the reception, but a sharp intake of breath stopped you.

You looked up as he mumbled your name, “Y/N.”

“Bucky.”

The explosion of emotions in your chest was indescribable, and your heart was beating so unabashedly fast you could hear it behind your ears. The nervous feeling you'd wanted to get rid of since that afternoon you'd talked to him had returned, as if you'd never practiced breathing exercises to avoid looking as panting and shocked as you did that time. All to avoid him noticing how much his presence around you affected you, how easily he altered your senses and how your body reacted unconsciously to his actions and his looks.

“Hi,” you said faintly as he stepped out of the lift and stopped in front of you with an indecipherable expression. Sometimes you wish you knew what was going on in his head, or you wished you were confident enough that he would decide to tell you that sort of thing once in a while.

“Hello,” he replied, totally oblivious to the revolution going on inside you, just because he was there, in the building you lived in. What was he doing there? And it couldn't be a mistake, he knew you lived there, “Are you on your way out?” he asked, pointing at you with the nonchalant gesture he always had, as if he was made of stone and nothing ever affected him.

You hesitated a bit before answering, “Yeah, I'm just going to get something. The guys are preparing a buffet for tonight.”

You didn't know how you managed to make your voice come out nonchalant and unconcerned, at least enough so that Bucky didn't notice the unease coursing through your body. He nodded, half-smiling a tight-lipped smile.

“Fury told me the mission was excellent. Besides the documents, did you and Steve find anything interesting to talk about?”

You sketch a smile freely, almost mimicking his amused gesture, feeling your shoulders loosen for a few seconds and a calmness dominate your mind, “Actually yes, we talked a lot about... uhm.... the weather, and the dust...”

Bucky let out a laugh, letting go of that part of him that was extremely self-conscious when there were too many people around him. His eyes narrowed in the most beautiful way, standing out with a twinkle you couldn't quite put a name to, and the corners of his lips forming your favourite curve of his face. As he watched you, you had the fleeting feeling that his eyes were telling you a million things, treasuring that moment just as you were doing. But just as quickly as that thought came, just as quickly it vanished. And, again, Bucky tensed his shoulders.

“Don't think about it too much, it's not personal. Steve has a hard time sometimes finding the words to talk to the person he likes.”

You didn't know why Bucky was so restrained if there was no... wait, what the fuck?

“What?” you exclaimed, surely with your eyes bulging and your brow furrowed. Your body tensed as you watched the gaze of the man in front of you turn wary and confused.

“What about what? Didn't he tell you?”

“Tell me-? Bucky, what are you talking about?”

“Well, Steve likes you. Probably from the moment he met you.”

You felt a ringing in your ears and the world reel for a few moments. You looked at Bucky's face without really watching, your mind miles away, at the little moments you'd shared with Steve, at the talks about movies, in the kitchen preparing anything, his attitudes on missions... his question when you were returning from your last mission.

But could he really have meant the same thing?

And why the hell wouldn't he mean the same thing?

Holy shit.

“I'm sorry, I thought he told you. But I didn't have time to ask him because I haven't seen him since you got back from the mission. It's like... he's avoiding me,” he added the last with his face contorted in confusion and disbelief, as if that was something impossible to believe, or as if Steve could never do something like that.

“No, well...” you interrupted yourself, your body jerking in unease as you stared anywhere that was Bucky's face, not really knowing what words wanted to come out of your mouth, “Steve didn't- he didn't tell me anything.”

Bucky let out a sigh, his body shifting slightly as he slipped one of his hands into one of his pockets.

“I should have known better,” he muttered, and now he was the one avoiding your gaze.

With your shoulders tense and your expression surely frizzled, your mind began to create a lot of conjectures that, if you said them out loud, you were sure would make no sense at all.

But Bucky, he was there, why else would he be there, in the building you live in?

“How long have you known?”

Bucky raised his gaze to meet yours. His eyes inspected yours for a few seconds that felt like an eternity, as if he wanted to discover something just by watching them, until he finally sighed before saying, “Not long ago, actually. Though I've had my suspicions for some time, he confirmed it himself a couple of weeks ago.”

Your brow furrowed.

“Is that why you walked away?”

“What?”

“Is that why you walked away from me, Bucky?” you repeated, grief searing your chest as the seconds ticked by without his response. A flame of hope flared in your chest, even though you had a feeling this wasn't going to end well, you refused to extinguish it, waiting, impatiently really, and scared, for the stupefied man in front of you to respond.

Bucky stirred, his chest rising and falling a little faster than normal, and his gaze dropped to various points in the hallway only to avoid looking at you as he replied, hesitantly, “No, I- I didn't walk away.”

Filled with sudden courage, you reproached him, “Don't deny it, Barnes. Coincidentally when I was at the Complex you were disappearing, even these last few days. Before perhaps I could say that our schedules crossed, but now?”

“Not now-” he hesitated, and your chest puffed out with anticipation. You knew it wasn't good but you couldn't stop now. You thought if you pushed him to the limit maybe he could say it, and you knew that wasn't the way, much less with him, but what he'd said had changed everything, and suddenly you found yourself with the wild need to hear something from him, something good, that would confirm everything you were thinking. But, “It's all the same Y/N, nothing has changed.”

You frowned at him, and clasping your hands together you ignored the pang of pain that spread through your chest, “Except everything changed, Bucky. You've been different when we're not alone. It's- it's impossible not to notice.

Bucky shook his head, his head shaking frantically, and for a moment you thought he was trying to convince not only you, but himself as well, “I have no reason to change just because I knew Steve liked you. Or are you assuming that knowing that bothers me?”

His suddenly defensive and haughty attitude, even though you knew it was one of his possible reactions, stunned you for a few seconds. You stared directly into his once soft, now hardened eyes, just to reassure yourself that he was there and wasn't going anywhere, even though you knew the illusion wasn't going to do any good. The fear that coursed through your veins you hadn't felt in quite some time, and the disastrous anticipation clouded your reason as his brow furrowed and he tilted his head as if he had just come to a conclusion.

“You think I like you, Y/N? And that knowing Steve likes you would make things a little different?”

Your lips parted, and suddenly you felt your mouth go dry. Bucky's blank expression as he said that pierced your chest like a dagger, his indifferent eyes fixed on yours, showing you your own agonised reflection from the bottom. You felt as if you had just fallen into a bottomless pit of sadness.

“I- no- I didn't mean it that way...”

“It doesn't bother me how Steve feels about you, Y/N,” he interrupted you in your poor attempt to pick up the central point of the conversation, and you felt like at any moment you might fall uselessly to the ground surrounded in your own tears and ache, “and it certainly hasn't changed anything either. I'm still me, we're still the same. If I want to get on with my life now or focus on aspects I hadn't thought about before, does that make me the bad guy?”

“No, Bucky, that wasn't what-”

He interrupted you again, “Then what's the problem?”

The hardness of his expression broke your heart, and you were sure he could tell the tears that had welled up in your eyes because seconds after he spoke, you couldn't see him clearly. His figure was a blur, an ambiguous interpretation of how little you felt you knew him at that moment.

It was already impossible for him not to know. That he didn't know how much you liked him, or how much you longed for him to let you love him without restraint. Situations that were only going to live in your head now, like a bad memory of a lousy moment that shook your world to its foundations.

“If you think something has changed, then the problem is with you. Because I don't feel that anything has changed. Not with Steve and not between us.”

You didn't answer him. You let a couple of tears roll down your face, witnessed by his impassive, apathetic expression, which didn't even flinch at the flood of feeling running down your face. He just stood there, watching, as you choked on your own breath.

“We're still friends, aren't we? I don't see why that has to change.”

With your hope shattered and your heart in your hand, you tried to say, “Maybe.... Maybe about that- about that, Bucky, I don't feel the same way-”

But the loud sound of a door creaking open stopped your feeble babbling. You didn't even feel the strength to try, as if his harshness had ruthlessly consumed all your resilience.

“Bucky,” you heard a female voice, and you didn't have to turn around to recognise it.

You watched Bucky's lips curl into a small smile, “Hey.”

You turned around to look at her, though you were fully aware you knew who she was, you felt the masochistic need to confirm it. But seeing her there, standing in front of her closed door, right next to the door to your flat, didn't do anything for you or confirm anything other than worsen the pain of the lump in your throat you were trying to conceal, because you'd already shown him too much and you couldn't give him any more if he was just going to toss it aside like a crumpled leaf that was no longer useful.

“Fine,” you said to Bucky, turning to the front once more. He scowled at you, but with a cautious, softened gesture, forgetting for a moment the defensive attitude he had adopted, “Then nothing has changed, and nothing's going to change.”

Bucky half-opened his lips, his face suddenly contracting in compunction, or so you seemed to have noticed. But no, he had said all that so sure of himself, so confident of his words, that it was impossible that he was now regretting it. And yet, if that were the case, you didn't want to hear it. Not now, not later, not ever, preferably. You'd heard enough.

“Good luck on your date, Bucky.”

And you continued on your way to the stairs, barely grazing his shoulder as you passed him. The lump in your throat was unbearable, and the burning in your eyes from the tears that wanted to come out to freely express your pain was insufferable. With every breath, your chest constricted painfully, and for a moment, as you descended the stairs, you felt that you would not be able to bear it; that you could not cope.

And that frightened you. To know the gravity of the power you had given Bucky over you, over your feelings.

But you couldn't do anything more than get over it. Whatever it took, but you had to let it go and put it behind you.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes angst #bucky x female reader #bucky imagine #bucky x you #james bucky barnes #bucky fanfic #james buchanan barnes #winter solider #seb stan #sebastian stan #marvel #mcu #avengers

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the-bau-quinjet · 3 years

Text

Hygge

Summary: Y/N introduces Bucky to the little things that he missed out on since the 40s.

Warnings: Absolutely none, just fluff :)

Word Count: 3527

a/n: Hygge is a Danish word, and from what I can tell it perfectly encompasses finding happiness in the little things.

This request honestly had me smiling the whole time I wrote it. Thank you to everyone who gave me suggestions of things to introduce Bucky to (including my sisters who don't know why I asked them that question lol)

Also, I find happiness in looking at this gif so I would like to thank @thebritishstanfan for its existence on this app

You heard the door open just as you finished running the bath.

"Bucky!" You ran out to the living room, throwing your arms around him in greeting.

"Hi, Doll." He whispered into hair, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. He instantly relaxed at your touch.

"I have a surprise for you." You grabbed his hand, leading him to the bathtub. "I thought you might want to relax a bit, so I ran you a bath."

Just being in your presence was relaxing to him, but he wouldn't turn down a bath, especially one with the potential of you joining him.

"Are you going to relax with me?" He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively eliciting a laugh from you.

"Maybe later, this is about you right now." You smiled softly, eager to help him unwind.

He undressed quickly, lowering himself into the warm water as you searched through a shopping bag.

"Okay. Big Blue, Intergalactic, Love Boat, or Goddess?" You looked at him expectantly.

He stared at you, confusion evident on his face.

"Oh, do you want to smell them and then decide?" You questioned with a tilt of your head.

"Smell what?" His brows furrowed, mouth slightly agape.

"The bath bombs silly." You smiled brightly, bringing the bag closer to him.

"Why would I want a bomb in my bath?" He questioned your odd behavior.

"It's not a real bomb, Buck." You shook your head, randomly removing one of the bath bombs from the bag, Goddess. You held it out for him to take.

"Smell it." You instructed.

He was apprehensive in his movements, but slowly moved the purple ball to his nose.

"It smells like flowers." He stated plainly, waiting for you to explain more.

"Yep. Here, smell the rest of them." You handed him each of the bath bombs, waiting to hear his verdict on each one.

"Oh, that's surprisingly citrus-y." He held out Love Boat for you to take back.

"This one smells too clean." He shook his head, dropping Big Blue into the outstretched bag.

"I like this one." He held Intergalactic in his hand, smiling proudly.

"Perfect. Lower it into the water." Your eyes were filled with love as you watched him follow your instructions.

"It's fizzing." He looked at you, concern evident in his bright blue eyes.

"It's supposed to. It dissolves in the water, coloring the bath and also adding scent from essential oils." You did your best to explain.

"Why?" He narrowed his eyes in confusion.

"It's just... have you ever heard of hygge?" You waited for his answer.

"Yeah, I've heard the word. It's like feeling cozy and happy from little things." He looked to you for approval.

"Exactly. That's what bath bombs are for, at least to me. They make me happy, so I thought you might like to try one."

The bath water had turned a dark blue, glitter floating throughout.

"Nobody thought to explain bath bombs to me, I guess." He smiled at you, relaxing into the bath. "What else makes you happy?"

"You know what, I'll make a list of little things that I love and then we can spend a day together where I show them to you." You bit your lip in anticipation of his response.

"I'd love that." He grinned.

"Yay! I'm going to get started!" You quickly left the bathroom, leaving him to relax on his own.

"What's got you so excited?" Sam gestures to your bouncing knee.

"Oh, I didn't even notice. I'm just showing Bucky some things that he's missed out on since the 40s." You smile grew as you thought about the list you had made.

You were just about to find Bucky and show him the list when you had to leave for an impromptu mission.

You were definitely annoyed your plans had been delayed, but it made you a force to be reckoned with while fighting.

"So that's why you were so ruthless. You've got a hot date." Sam winked.

"Whatever you say Sam." You shook your head. "I've got to drop by Starbucks before they close. See you later!" You called as you ran from the jet, still in mission gear.

The disheveled state of your clothing and hair earned you some looks from the Starbucks employees, but you were too excited to care.

You quickly stopped in your room to change before heading off to find Bucky.

"BuckyBuckyBuckyBuckyBuckyBuckyBuckyBuckyBucky!" You said his name over and over as you ran to the common area.

Skidding to a stop, you held up the drinks in your hands. "Bucky! Are you ready?"

He seemed to be in the middle of something with Steve, but abandoned it immediately at the sight of you.

"Sorry, punk. I've gotta go." He grabbed a drink from you, sliding his other hand into your newly empty one.

"Wow, jerk. You get a girlfriend and replace me!" Steve yelled after you in a joking tone.

"Don't worry Stevie. Nobody could replace you." You called back over your shoulder, dragging Bucky to the kitchen.

"Okay, I've got a few different categories. The first one we're going to tackle is food!" You smiled brightly, nearly bouncing in anticipation.

"Can you preheat the oven to 350 degrees?" You asked as you grabbed a bag from the freezer.

You swiftly dumped the contents onto the tray, shoving them into the oven while it preheated.

"Aren't you supposed to wait until it's hot?" Bucky watched as you slid around the room.

"Yes, but I've always been impatient. It'll be fine. I promise! While those are cooking, I've got a few other things for you. These are from the 90s."

You handed him a bag of flamin' hot cheetos, watching with bated breath as he opened it and sniffed the contents.

"They smell bizarre. Why are they so red?" He looked at the cheeto in his hand with confusion.

"It's the flamin' hot cheeto dust! It may be unnaturally red, but it's so satisfying to eat." You grabbed the bag from him, eating a cheeto of your own.

He eyed you carefully, slowly popping the cheeto into his mouth and chewing carefully.

"Doll, these are terrible." He deadpanned, grinning when you pouted.

"Bucky!" You whined. "You have to eat more than one for the full experience. It doesn't matter that they aren't the best flavor wise, there's just something about them that's addicting." You laughed, eating a few more cheetos.

"Alright, alright. I'll follow your lead." The two of you snacked as you brought his attention to the next item.

"Okay, these don't really go with the cheeto flavor, but they still make me happy. Starbucks only does holiday drinks around the holidays, obviously. These are my two favorite."

You handed him one beverage, gesturing for him to try it.

"Minty..." He waited for an explanation.

"Yes. Peppermint mocha!" You swapped the cups, letting him try the next drink. "That one is an eggnog latte."

"They're both pretty good, although I still like my coffee black." He placed the cup back on the counter.

"Yeah, I thought you might say that. There's just something about them. Probably because they're seasonal drinks. It makes me associate them with the holidays and spending time with friends and family and that makes me smile."

He pressed a kiss to your nose. "You are too cute."

"I know!" You scrunched your nose, knowing he finds it adorable. "Next item!" You presented him with three different packages of Oreos.

"Why so many?" He questioned.

"Because, they're different flavors. I now Oreos were originally produced in like 1912 or something, that's why I got different flavors."

"Actually, I don't think I've ever tried one." He eyed the blue package excitedly.

"Ahh, while I got double stuffed because they're obviously better than the regular ones. I've also got peanut butter and mint. Honestly, pretty mild flavors all things considered." You laughed, picturing the key lime flavor you avoided.

Bucky grabbed one of each, excited to try all three.

"I think the mint one is my favorite. It really goes with the peppermint mocha." He nodded as he spoke, as if he needed to convince himself.

"I'm glad you're enjoying yourself." You smiled, watching as he ate three more cookies.

Before he could reply, the timer went off.

"The dino nuggies!" You reached for the potholder, pulling the tray out of the over. "This is the last food item."

He looked at the tray, confusion clear in his eyes.

"Doll, are these just chicken nuggets?" He picked up a brontosaurus from the tray.

"Well, yes." You huffed. "But! They're shaped like dinosaurs!" You bit your lip in excitement, bouncing on the balls of your feet.

"So? They still taste the same..." Bucky clearly did not understand the hype.

"Right again. It's so much more fun to eat though. Gives you a childlike enthusiasm, even as a fully grown adult." He eyed you skeptically as he bit off the head of a dino.

He couldn't help but smile as you watched him, anticipating his reaction.

"Ya know, you might be right. That was weirdly satisfying."

The two of you spent the next few minutes eating chicken nuggets, hot cheetos, and oreos, occasionally sipping from the holiday beverages.

After quickly cleaning up the kitchen, you lead Bucky to your bathroom.

"Sit down." You gestured to the toilet.

"Why?" He still did as he was asked.

"Because." You answered petulantly. You filled a paper cup with water, carefully dumping it on his head to get his hair wet.

"Y/N!" Bucky jolted from the cold water.

"Sorry! I forgot it was cold!" You quickly plugged in the blowdryer, letting the warm air waft over his head.

"You know, if that thing was quieter, I think I could fall asleep right now." Bucky stated calmly as you ran your fingers through his hair, trying to evenly distribute the warm air amongst the hair.

"I know, right! There's something about someone else blow drying your hair that is so soothing."

You spent the next few minutes drying Bucky's hair and massaging his scalp.

"All done!" you exclaimed, unplugging the blow dryer and putting it back in the cabinet.

"Are you sure you don't want to do that again?" Bucky questioned, still sitting on the toilet.

"Yes. We've got more things to cover!" You pulled him off the toilet, nearly dragging him to your bed.

"Next category is entertainment, I guess." You brought out your laptop, certain apps already open to show him different things.

"We'll start with animals!" You were buzzing with excitement, and caffeine, as you opened two different browsers.

"Doll, animals existed in the 40s." He shook his head, endlessly amused by your behavior.

"I know that. Have you ever seen a Highland Cow?" You raised your brow, challenging his statement.

"I can't say I have." He shook his head slightly.

"Well, there you go. Animals it is. Actually, have you ever used Alexa?" You questioned him.

"No... Who is Alexa?" His confusion earned a laugh from you.

"An AI." You explained before bursting out into laughter again.

"Oh, like Friday?" He questioned.

"Yeah, but Alexa's not nearly as advanced. Here, watch this." You cleared your throat, making sure to speak clearly. "Alexa, show me pictures of Highland cows."

After a brief buffer, the AI responded. "Here are pictures of Highland cows." The google search appeared on your screen.

"So you can ask her anything?" Bucky questioned.

"Sort of, Friday knows way more. Alexa's good for little things though. Tony gets annoyed if you ask Friday to do too many small things because it can take up too much RAM and... You know what, it's not important." You decided against explaining since Bucky already looked confused.

You shifted your screen so he could see the many pictures displayed.

"Okay, so what's so special about a Highland cow?" He scrolled through the images, unaware of the smile forming on his face.

"There's just something about them. You'll find that same explanation for a lot of things I'm showing you, but it's true. They just make me smile. Look at how cute they are!" You emphatically gestured to the screen, nearly squealing at the adorable display.

"I actually see what you mean. Looking at them just makes you smile." He nodded his head thoughtfully, a small grin still pulling at his lips. "What other animal are you introducing me to?"

"Well, I assume you know what a puppy is." You said in complete seriousness.

"I do, indeed." He matched your tone, mocking the seriousness. He was really enjoying the playfulness you were showcasing.

"Well, here is a video of actor Tom Holland... you know Tom Holland, right?" You turned to face him.

"Tom Holland. Tom Holland... What's he in again?" His brows pinched together in thought.

"We've watched a few of his new movies together. Chaos Walking, The Devil All the Time, a few animated films, In the Heart of the Sea."

"Oh! The British one?" Recognition crossed his features.

"Yes! That one. Okay so, this is an interview of him..."

"Okay?" Bucky was more confused now than any other point of the night.

"Playing with puppies!" You're mouth dropped open in a wide smile, clearly excited about even the idea of puppies.

"I think I understand this one without even watching the video." he laughed, laying back with you to watch.

"You can't have pitbulls in England?" Bucky was affronted.

"I know. It's so sad." You pouted, still staring at the puppies on the screen.

"I have actually always thought puppies smell really good." He easily commented, agreeing with the famous actor.

"I know, Buck. I know." You shook your head playfully.

"Twinkies are pretty gross, he's not wrong." It was your turn to comment on his answers.

"I see your point." Bucky agreed as well.

"I definitely understand why this one makes you happy." Bucky smiled, kissing you on the cheek. "You know, he kind looks like Peter."

"I mean, maybe a little." You shrugged moving on to the next thing on your list.

"Still in the realm of entertainment, I've got some music for you." You knew Bucky was going to pout here.

"Doll, you know I'm just fine listening to my 40s music and calling it a day."

"Yes, but this is my list and you have agreed to be subjected to it." You queued up a few songs. "The first one, again, just makes me smile. I babysat a lot when I was younger, and there's something about this theme song that really hits different."

"Hits different?" Bucky stared at you like you had two heads.

"Yep. Just listen."

I was a girl in the village doing alright, then I became a princess overnight. Now I gotta figure out how to do it right, so much to learn and see.

You bobbed your head, mouthing the words as the theme song to Sofia the First played.

"I don't get this one." He figured honesty was the best policy.

"You say that now, but a week from now... You'll be singing it while you punch a bad guy in the face." You deadpanned, earning a laugh.

"Okay! Actual songs now." You took a deep breath, tring to prepare for his rejection. "Taylor Swift."

"Taylor Swift?" He repeated, waiting for you to say something else.

"To quote one of my favorite tik toks I've ever seen... 'If you don't like a single Taylor Swift song, I'm taking a crowbar, and I'm propping open your chest to see what's powering that thing in there, because it's not a heart.'"

"That's a bit extreme, don't you think." He eyed you cautiously.

"No. It's true. Her discography is so versatile, everyone can find at least one song they like." Your playful mood from earlier was still present, but hidden behind a slightly threatening glare.

"Which song are you going to play for me?" He was honestly nervous to hear it.

"Actually, you can pick. This playlist is songs of hers that make me smile, so pick whichever one you want." You smiled, eager to see his choice.

He scrolled through the playlist, reading each title carefully.

"Okay, You Are In Love or New Year's Day?" He asked your opinion.

"Both good choices, why those two?" You eyed him curiously.

"Well, You Are In Love because that's how I feel about you and New Years Day because you put it last in the playlist, so I know it must be one of your favorites."

You couldn't hide the way his words made you smile if you tried.

"I love you so much." You kissed him quickly. "Go with New Year's Day, I think it will resonate with you a bit more."

He smiled, tapping the screen gently to play the song.

The two of you remained quiet through the song, just enjoying the soft melody and storytelling.

"Please don't ever become a stranger whose laugh I could recognize anywhere." He quoted when the song ended.

"I'll be there if you're the toast of the town, babe, or if you strike out and your crawling home." You sang softly in response.

He cleared his throat. "I think I understand this one."

"I'm glad. I mean, it obviously doesn't have to be Taylor Swift, but everyone should have at least one song that makes them smile." You leaned into his embrace, enjoying the time spent together.

"What else have you got for me, Doll?" He held you close.

"Two more things. Here." You handed him two slightly sticky balls.

"What the hell is this?" He laughed, prying the toy from his metal hand.

"Throw it at the ceiling." He did as he was told, following your lead.

"Friday, can you turn off the lights?" You asked the AI.

"Of course, Ms. L/N."

The two of you were quickly shrouded in darkness. The balls you had thrown at the ceiling were glowing.

"How do we get them down?" Bucky whispered, his voice matching the darkness of the room.

"Just wait..." You stared at the ceiling, waiting a few seconds before the balls began to fall.

"So you just throw it and catch it?" Bucky questioned, again following your lead.

"Yep! It's weirdly relaxing after a long day." You smiled, catching and throwing the neon balls over and over again.

"You're absolutely right." He laughed, catching the blue ball before it could hit him in the face. "Especially just laying in the dark."

"Exactly! I'll go get the last thing, you can keep going." You pressed a quick kiss before heading to the kitchen. You tossed a few stuffed animal heating pads into the microwave.

While they were heating up, you grabbed yours and Bucky's water bottles to fill up with the fridge filter.

The beep sounded, indicating you could grab the animals and head back to Bucky.

"I'm back!" You called softly as you closed the door again. The room was still dark, causing you to turn on the lights. Bucky was frantically catching and throwing all four balls.

"It's a bit less relaxing when you've got to keep track of so many." He laughed as one fell and stuck to his elbow.

"Yeah, more like a game then." You smiled, happy to see him having so much fun.

"So, what's the last thing?"

You held up a bright yellow duck and an equally bright green frog.

"Stuffed animals? Doll, how old do you think I am?" He laughed lightheartedly.

"They're not just stuffed animals. They're also heating pads." You smiled, handing the duck to Bucky.

"What do you do with it?" He questioned.

"Men." You couldn't help but mumble it under your breath. "Well, after a mission, when you're feeling sore you can cuddle with one of these and it helps soothe the ache."

"Really? Nothing else you've shown me has been this practical." He chuckled again.

"That is true, but the fact that it's a stuffed frog makes me happy, even after the worst day."

"I guess you have a point." He pulled the duck close to his body, snuggling with it. "I like cuddling with you better." He pouted.

"I like cuddling with you too Bucky. Promise." You turned to face him, holding the frog to your chest with one arm.

"Thank you for sharing all this with me. I honestly don't remember the last time I smiled this much." He looked at you fondly, still smiling.

"Me either. There is one more thing that makes me really happy, though." You whispered.

"Yeah, what's that?" He watched you eagerly, waiting for the last thing.

"You." You watched his smile grow. "Even just spending ten seconds with you makes me happy after a totally shit day."

"Y/N, you make me happier than anyone I've ever met, Steve included." He joked. "I love you so much. More than I ever thought I could love someone."

"I love you too. So, so much." You rested your head on his chest, cuddling as close as the stuffed frog allowed. "Goodnight, Bucky." You whispered softly, eyes already falling closed.

He pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head, sighing contently.

"Goodnight my love."

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