#and THEY NEED TO MAKE AN AMY ONE I WOULD DIE | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

brunchable · 2 months ago

Text

𝗠𝘆 𝗡𝗲𝗶𝗴𝗵𝗯𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗶𝘀 𝗮 𝗣𝗼𝗿𝗻𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗿

Pairings: PornStar!Bucky Barnes x f!Reader Themes: Sexual Innuendo/humour,Guy next door, situational comedy? If you're not up for a few second-hand embarrassment sit this one out lol. Summary: Your coworker peer pressured you to look up SergeantBarnes in Pornhub, reason? Because apparently you're missing out. A/N: This would make a good mini series. . .but we'll see. I had a dream. . .that he was a guy next door, just wanted to-of course-add a twist to it asdfghjkl.

It was all Amy’s fault. And Trish’s. And okay, maybe you shared a little bit of the blame for caving to the intense peer pressure at work. But still.

You’d been minding your own business in the break room, scrolling through lunch menus, when Amy had sidled up, leaned in with that conspiratorial look on her face, and whispered, “Have you seen him yet?”

“Seen who?” your eyebrows creased as you asked, confused.

Trish popped up out of nowhere, clutching her latte in her hand. “Girl, SeargentBarnes. The guy is legendary—I mean, a literal internet icon.”

You shrugged, feigning indifference while they exchanged a look that practically screamed, amateur. They started talking all at once, dropping cryptic phrases like “too hot to handle,” “you’re gonna die,” and, “you’ll never look at men the same way again.”

So there you were that night, alone with your laptop, curled up in bed and biting your lip as you debated whether to type it in. It’s just curiosity, you reasoned. Research purposes.

Your eyes widened as the screen filled with… well, humanity, in all its naked, unfiltered glory. Your face heated up so fast you could’ve sworn it was the same shade as your throw pillow. Videos lined up like some weird buffet, titles more scandalous than anything you’d ever whispered in confession, and… was that a whole category devoted to delivery men? You slapped a hand over your mouth to stop from yelping, mortified at the intensity of it all.

“I need to go to church after this,” you muttered, squinting like that would somehow censor the thorough dedication people were showing in their, uh, procreation endeavors.

“SergeantBarnes,” you muttered to yourself as you typed, fingers hovering uncertainly over the Enter key. Then, with a sigh, you hit search, and… oh.

You nearly choked on oxygen. Because there he was, in HD glory, right on Pornhub, with that cocky grin and those blue eyes that looked like they’d been crafted in a lab. And he wasn’t just standing there looking smug—oh, no, he was on a mission, shirtless, flexing, and smirking at the camera like he was the world’s best-kept secret. The scene panned to him sitting on the edge of a bed, peeling off his belt with one hand, a glint in his eyes that seemed to say, this is what you came for.

“Oh my god,” you muttered, equal parts horrified and morbidly fascinated, as he proceeded to… well, get very familiar with his costar. SergeantBarnes was apparently an expert at multitasking, using every muscle, every inch of his well-equipped arsenal. And the way he was delivering lines? He was clearly treating the camera like it was his soulmate.

By minute two, your jaw had dropped. By minute five, you’d set the laptop on your nightstand to “watch responsibly.” By minute ten, you were convinced Amy and Trish had permanently ruined your life.

And the costar—she was practically putting on an Oscar-worthy performance, her reactions so intense you half expected her to start speaking in tongues. Every time SergeantBarnes’s… rod of justice plunges deep inside, she gasps like she was witnessing a miracle. You scoffed, rolling your eyes. Come on, is that really necessary?

As you watched, he gave a low, rumbling sound—half growl, half sigh—that sent an involuntary shiver down your spine. His gaze burned through the screen with a confidence that was practically magnetic, and suddenly, you understood exactly why the costar was gasping. A new, unbidden heat pooled between your legs, making you shift uncomfortably, instinctively pressing your thighs together as if that could somehow stop the flush creeping up your face. Oh no, now I wish I were her, you thought, immediately cringing at yourself.

With a mix of half-laughter and half-horror, you reached over and slammed the laptop shut so fast it was like you were trying to save yourself from spontaneous combustion.

“Holy—oh, wow,” you whispered, pressing a hand to your face. “Okay. That was a one-time thing.”

Or so you thought.

Except now, every time you even glanced at your laptop, SergeantBarnes was right there in your mind, reminding you exactly why he was internet-famous. It was becoming a bit of a problem.

× × × ×

The next morning, you stumbled out of your apartment, looking like something that had been left out in the rain and dragged through a blender, mentally cursing last night’s “research” session. The world had no right to be this bright, and your regret levels were at an all-time high as you lugged the world’s heaviest box down the hallway.

You were so absorbed in avoiding a complete breakdown that you barely registered the deep, too-familiar voice beside you.

“Need help with that?”

“Thanks, but I got it,” you muttered automatically, barely sparing him a glance.

Except...then you did.

You looked up, squinting in confusion. Because, standing in front of you, in the perfectly mundane hallway of your perfectly mundane building, was him.

You froze, your brain spinning like a buffering screen. Okay, this guy’s insanely handsome. Tall, broad-shouldered, stubbled jaw, eyes so blue they should have a health warning on them. You stared, mentally cataloging each feature, when—wait a minute... WAIT. A. MINUTE.

Your eyes narrowed, suspicion prickling as your brain finally fired up. Is that…? No, it can’t be.

But it was. Oh, it absolutely was.

SergeantBarnes, the very star of last night’s “educational” viewing, right here in the flesh. And suddenly, like a tractor beam had locked onto you, your gaze dropped right to his crotch, where you’d witnessed things you could never un-see.

This, of course, did not go unnoticed. His brows shot up as he followed your very obvious, very treacherous line of sight, glancing down at his jeans before looking back up at you with an infuriatingly smug grin.

“Uh… nice shoes?” you blurted out, your face feeling like it was on fire. You vaguely gestured to his boots, wishing you could vanish right into the walls.

“Thanks,” he replied smoothly, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “They’re pretty sturdy. But, you know…” He paused, his voice dropping just a hair. “I don’t think they’re what you were looking at.”

Your heart sank as you forced yourself to look up, his amused blue eyes practically laughing at you. Abort. Abort mission. Oh God, we are way past mission failure.

“Uh—no, I just… um…” You floundered, desperately trying to think of something, anything, that might save you from the hole you’d dug. But no words came. Not even the faintest semblance of a coherent thought. Just one long, silent scream echoing in your brain.

“Bucky,” he offered helpfully, sticking out his hand like he wasn’t SergeantBarnes from Pornhub, but just some guy offering to help with a box. “New neighbor, by the way.”

You stared at his hand like it was a booby trap, your brain short-circuiting as it reminded you exactly where those fingers had been. That hand had gripped… things. It had been places you’d only dreamed of, doing things you’d probably need a core workout just to survive. You could practically see the “viewer discretion advised” warning flashing in your head as you hesitated, still staring at his hand as if it might explode.

But, against your better judgment—and every shred of dignity—you slowly reached out and shook it, feeling your own fingers betray you by sweating as they made contact with his very… experienced ones.

“Uh… hi… I’m… yep.” you blurted, mentally cringing.

“‘Yep’? That’s a good name,” he said, smirking as he let go. “You sure you don’t need help? You seem… a little flustered.”

Flustered? Understatement of the century. If your dignity had been a cup, it was empty, bone-dry, and cracked. You forced yourself to focus, eyes straight forward, pointedly ignoring the very tempting crotch-level view.

“I’m fine! Totally fine!” you squeaked, cringing at your own voice. Oh God, calm down!

But he just chuckled, that same dangerously cocky smile from last night plastered all over his face. “Alright, Yep. Guess I’ll see you around.”

As he turned to leave, you stood there in the hallway, clutching the box like it was a life raft, heart racing a mile a minute. You’d just had a very public staring incident with SergeantBarnes, your new neighbor, and all you’d managed to say was nice shoes.

I’m gonna need new coworkers, you thought, practically burying your face in the box as you scurried to your apartment.

The door slammed shut with a bang that could probably be heard across state lines. You dropped the box unceremoniously, ignoring the loud thunk as it hit the floor, and whipped your phone out, fingers flying across the screen like you were composing a manifesto.

Guys, you’re NEVER gonna guess who my neighbor is—

You paused, staring at the screen as the rest of the text formed in your mind: THE SergeantBarnes. LIVE. IN. THE. FLESH.

But then another thought stopped you dead in your tracks. Oh no.

You could already picture it: Amy and Trish showing up like rabid fangirls in their “I Heart SergeantBarnes” merch, carrying suspiciously flimsy plates of brownies. Trish would have binoculars. Amy would be taking notes, probably trying to “accidentally” leave her phone number under his door. You shuddered, imagining them cornering him by the mailboxes, all of them acting like they were definitely not the type of women who had his entire catalog bookmarked on their phones.

A horrible realization hit you. If I tell them, this man’s gonna be living a nightmare right next door to me. Not just a nightmare, a Trish-and-Amy-sponsored fan club nightmare, where they might even break into song—probably chanting, “SergeantBarnes! SergeantBarnes!” while he tries to get his groceries.

You looked back at your unsent message and deleted it in one go, feeling weirdly proud of yourself. Yeah, no. I’m not letting them anywhere near him.

Totally altruistic, of course. It had nothing to do with keeping the eye candy to yourself.

You took a deep breath, looking around your empty apartment like you were expecting the FBI to burst through the door at any second. Sure, you’d just been in the hallway with the actual SergeantBarnes, but maybe… maybe you were imagining things. It had been a long day. Moving was stressful. Stranger things had happened, right?

With a surge of resolve (and denial), you dashed to your bedroom, practically sliding across the floor as you went. Your laptop was waiting innocently on the nightstand, and with a quick glance over your shoulder to ensure you were still alone, you opened it up, clicked incognito mode like you were hiding state secrets, and went straight to the website you’d sworn off only hours ago.

“Alright… just to confirm,” you muttered to yourself, feeling your cheeks burn as you typed SergeantBarnes into the search bar, mentally bracing yourself for the flood of results.

And there he was. The whole page filled with him, in various… positions. You swallowed, scrolling until one video caught your eye: “Sergeant Disciplines the Bratty Recruit.”

You snorted, almost slamming the laptop shut. “Oh, for heaven’s sake…”

But curiosity was a dangerous beast, and before you could talk yourself out of it, your finger had already clicked play.

The video started, with SergeantBarnes in all his glory, wearing what looked like the world’s tightest military uniform. His face was as smug as ever, that telltale glint of mischief in his eyes as he muttered something absurd like, “Think you can handle me, recruit?”

“Oh my god,” you whispered, cringing as you half-covered your eyes but peeked through your fingers anyway.

But there was no denying it—the face, the voice, the ridiculous, smoldering look into the camera. There was no escaping it now. It was 100% him. The same guy who was now living approximately ten feet away from your own front door.

As the video continued, your disbelief only grew. This man… this man is next door, could eating cereal right now, you thought, torn between horrified fascination and the urge to laugh. Because there he was, in full “disciplinary action” mode, doing things you could barely process, and here you were, watching it again, just to make sure it was really him.

“Oh, I’m doomed,” you muttered, slapping the laptop shut. You weren’t even sure if you were embarrassed, impressed, or maybe just a little terrified of your own neighbor.

× × × ×

Over the next few days, it was like living in a twisted sitcom. Everywhere you went, he was there, lurking like some kind of sexy, mildly inconvenient specter. It was uncanny. You’d turn a corner, and bam—there he’d be, giving you that polite nod and a smirk that clearly said, I know exactly what you’ve seen.

It started small. You’d step into the elevator, praying for a peaceful ride, and ding! in he’d stroll, flashing that devastating grin. Instantly, you’d stiffen, gluing yourself to the opposite wall, practically trying to meld with the buttons, heart pounding like you were about to pass out. You couldn’t even look him in the eye without flashes of his, uh, “filmography” playing in your mind. Every single time, without fail, you found yourself studying the very clean floor of the elevator as he leaned casually against the wall, the corners of his mouth tugging up.

“Nice day, isn’t it?” he’d ask, all smooth, innocent charm. Meanwhile, you were there like, Oh, totally, perfect day to run into my favorite Pornhub star.

You were in the laundry room, blissfully alone, humming to yourself as you separated your clothes like a responsible adult. Whites here, colors there, delicates—well, you were kind of just tossing them wherever at this point. Then, suddenly, you felt it: a shift in the air, a presence. You froze, the hair on the back of your neck standing up, a sock suspended mid-toss in your hand. Why do I feel like the music should be getting dramatic right about now?

Slowly, as if sensing his approach, you turned. And there he was—Bucky, striding in with a laundry basket filled with a suspiciously pristine pile of perfectly folded, incredibly manly clothing. It was as if he’d just stepped out of some kind of… laundry commercial. Or worse… one of his own videos.

You blinked, eyes widening as a thousand clichés suddenly flashed through your mind. Oh no, why does this feel like the start of a porn? you thought, biting your lip as you realized the two of you were, in fact, very alone, surrounded by washing machines and suspiciously warm lighting. You mentally kicked yourself. Snap out of it! This is laundry. Regular, boring laundry.

Bucky caught your eye, giving you an amused once-over. “Doing some laundry?” he asked, his voice low and casual, but somehow it felt like the most suggestive question in the world.

You opened your mouth, closed it, then opened it again. “Uh-huh,” you managed, trying to sound like a normal human being. “Just, uh… laundry.”

Your face felt like it was on fire as you realized half of your load was underwear, strewn everywhere. Panties, bras, socks—they were all there in their mismatched glory, practically screaming, We’re personal items! Pay extra attention! You yanked your gaze away from the pile, mortified, and flung the sock into the washer like you were trying to disarm a bomb.

You slammed the washer lid down, feeling like you’d just revealed way too much. But Bucky only grinned, strolling over with that maddening swagger. He tossed a shirt into the washer beside you, leaning against it with a smirk.

“Nice sorting skills,” he commented, eyes flicking down to the very obvious pile of bras and lace that you’d tried to hide. “Very… thorough.”

“Yep!” you squeaked, feeling like you might explode. You fumbled with the detergent bottle, struggling to open it as your brain went into full-blown panic mode. Why does this feel like one of those videos? Don’t look at him. Just don’t look. Pretend you’re alone. Pretend this is fine.

But of course, he wasn’t making it any easier. He folded his arms, watching you with a raised brow, the picture of calm while you were desperately trying to load underwear without dying of embarrassment.

“You know,” he said, clearly holding back a laugh, “usually people try to separate colors from whites.”

“Oh, I do! I mean, I… it’s a system,” you stammered, feeling like you were caught in a lie by the laundry police. “Sometimes it’s… it’s an artistic choice.”

He chuckled, his eyes twinkling with that insufferable amusement. “Artistic laundry, huh? Didn’t take you for the experimental type.”

“Yep,” you said, forcing a laugh as you stuffed in the last sock, your hands moving at lightning speed, desperate to finish and escape.

But as you turned to leave, he held up a stray bra that had somehow escaped your grasp, dangling it between two fingers with a raised eyebrow.

“You forgot this,” he said, voice dripping with that same mischievous humor.

You stared at the bra in horror, feeling your face go molten.

“Uh… thanks,” you mumbled, practically ripping it out of his hand and stuffing it into the washer, slamming the lid down one last time before you spun on your heel and speed-walked out of there.

Behind you, you heard him chuckle softly, his voice echoing in the hallway. “See you around, neighbor.”

Yep, you thought, already halfway down the hall, never doing laundry again.

By day three, it got ridiculous. You’d ducked into the mailroom, hoping he was out doing normal human things—maybe mowing a lawn or whatever. But no, as soon as you opened your mailbox, there he was, standing by his own, sorting through a stack of letters. You froze, briefly considering whether you could just flee and come back later for your electric bill.

And then… the grocery bag incident.

You were in the hallway, arms overloaded with bags because, naturally, you’d ignored the cart right by the entrance and had instead decided to carry it all in one go. You were so close to your door when you heard footsteps behind you.

“Need help?” he asked, that voice making you nearly fumble every bag in your arms.

You turned, scrambling to say, “No, I’m good,” but of course, in your panic, one of your bags tipped, and a lone, horrifying item fell out and hit the floor. You watched, paralyzed, as the little bottle of lube rolled out with an audible clatter, spinning lazily to a stop right in front of him.

You could practically feel the heat exploding from your cheeks. No. Oh no. Not like this.

You looked up, meeting his amused, slightly raised eyebrows as his lips twitched, clearly fighting a smile.

“Uh,” you choked out, unable to form a single coherent sentence. Think fast, make it sound normal, you told yourself, even though every possible explanation was racing out of your head.

He bent down, picking up the bottle with a glint of pure mischief in his eyes, inspecting it like he’d just found evidence of some grand crime.

“Hey, everyone’s got needs,” he said, deadpan, but that twinkle in his eye was anything but innocent. “Don’t worry.” He tossed you a wink, handing the bottle back like it was no big deal.

Your mouth opened, then closed, then opened again as your brain scrambled to form a sentence. Finally, the words tumbled out like a train wreck, your dignity left somewhere back at the grocery store.

“It’s… it’s for my friend,” you squeaked, clutching the lube bottle with both hands like it was a sacred artifact. He raised an eyebrow, looking entirely too entertained for your liking. “She’s, uh, she’s constipated.”

A moment of silence.

“She needs it to… you know, help with a suppository.” You forced a grin that you were sure looked more like a grimace. “She, uh… can’t get things moving. Really jammed up in there.”

Bucky’s face twisted in barely suppressed laughter, and his shoulders shook as he struggled to keep a straight face.

“Right,” he drawled, nodding with an expression that was one part pity and two parts are you for real? “That’s… thoughtful of you.”

You felt like you were overheating, a human furnace on the verge of combustion.

“She’s desperate!” you blurted, doubling down on your ridiculous story, even though every fiber of your being was screaming to stop talking. “I’m just being a good friend, you know? Supportive. I mean, she’s the one who’s backed up.”

He nodded again, still fighting a smile, the look in his eyes a mix of amusement and something else that made your pulse race.

“Sure,” he said, “nothing like helping a friend in need.” He paused, that wicked smile growing as he added, “In my experience, though, there are plenty of other uses for it.”

Your soul left your body.

He held out his hands in mock innocence, chuckling as your eyes widened to saucers.

“Just saying,” he winked. “Versatile stuff.”

And with that, he turned, strolling down the hall with a casual wave, leaving you frozen and mortified, clutching the bottle to your chest like a lifeline.

“Gotta… go,” you managed, voice barely a whisper, stumbling the last few steps to your door as you fumbled with the keys, practically falling inside.

The second the door shut behind you, you pressed your back against it, staring at the ceiling and whispering, “I’m never leaving my apartment again.”

Just as you were about to bury your face in your hands and live in the sweet, silent embrace of shame, your phone buzzed. You pulled it out, still reeling from the lube disaster, and saw a text from your friend, Clara.

Clara: Hey!! Did you get the lube?? Need it ASAP, things are… not moving over here, if you catch my drift.

You groaned, staring at the message, letting it sink in that yes, this entire disaster had been real.

You: Yes. Got it. Never speaking of this again.

Clara: Bless you, you lifesaver. My digestive system owes you a standing ovation.

You rolled your eyes, still red-faced. Clara had no idea you’d just had to explain the entire situation to your painfully attractive neighbor—who now likely thought you were a walking sitcom.

× × × ×

It started subtly—just a little teasing, or so you thought. But it quickly spiraled into a game you could only describe as Bucky Barnes: Merciless Teasing—Extended Cut. Every time you crossed paths, he managed to twist the knife just a little deeper, making you sweat, stumble, and practically choke on your own words.

The first time it happened, you were hauling a huge box out of your car, trying to look capable and independent, when he strolled up beside you, leaning against the car with a smirk.

“You act like I’m a celebrity,” he said, eyebrow cocked. “Every time you see me, you look ready to run.”

You fumbled, nearly dropping the box.

“Nope! I’m just…uh, busy!” you squeaked, scrambling to walk away at top speed, box clutched to your chest like a shield. But you caught his laugh as you rushed off, making you want to evaporate on the spot.

The next time, you were in the stairwell, headphones in, desperately trying to avoid any more awkward run-ins. Naturally, the moment you looked up, there he was, lounging at the landing like some kind of paid actor in a commercial. You froze mid-step as he raised a brow.

“Look at that,” he said, giving you the once-over, “you look like you’ve seen a ghost every time you see me. Is it something I did?”

You stammered, turning pink.

“No! Just, uh… headphones! Music! Loud music!” you blurted, before speed-walking up the stairs, praying he didn’t hear the Spice Girls song you’d been blasting. Behind you, his chuckle echoed up the stairwell like the final taunt of a villain.

But the absolute worst came at the coffee shop.

You were in line, looking at your phone, hoping you could just breeze in and out. The moment you placed your order and turned to leave, there he was, standing right behind you, grinning like a Cheshire cat.

“Hey, neighbor,” he drawled, eyeing your coffee cup like it was some incriminating evidence. “Funny running into you here. Or… do you keep running into me?”

Your face flushed, and you tried to think of something clever, but it was like all your brain cells had gone on vacation.

“Nope! Definitely just getting coffee! I don’t even… live near here!” you babbled, immediately regretting everything.

“Oh, interesting,” he replied, his grin widening. “Because I could swear you live right next door. But hey, if you want to keep pretending you don’t know me, I’ll go along with it.” He handed you your coffee with a wink. “See you around… or not.”

But things took a turn for the mortifying when, one evening, you were pacing the hallway on the phone with Clara, trying to vent without actually collapsing in a pile of awkwardness.

“It’s him, Clara!” you hissed, oblivious to the fact that you were pacing right outside Bucky’s door. “I’m living next door to SergeantBarnes! Can you believe this? I’ve seen everything he has to offer! I’ve practically studied him!”

Clara was howling with laughter, but you were too wrapped up in your frustration to care.

“And he knows, Clara! He keeps showing up everywhere, saying stuff like, ‘You seem nervous’ and ‘You keep looking at me like you know something I don’t.’ I swear, he’s doing it on purpose!” You paused, sighing dramatically. “The man is basically torturing me!”

“Yeah?” Clara snorted. “And what are you gonna do about it?”

“Nothing! I’m gonna hide in my apartment forever! I mean, the guy is—” You froze mid-sentence, sensing a presence that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. Please, for the love of all that is holy, no.

You slowly turned, and there he was. Bucky. Leaning against his door, arms crossed, looking like he’d just won the freaking lottery.

“Oh… my god…” you whispered, feeling your soul leave your body. He was watching you with an expression of pure, unfiltered amusement, one eyebrow quirked, lips pulled into that infuriating, knowing smirk.

“Well,” he said, voice laced with mischief. “That makes one of us.” His eyes glinted with barely-contained laughter. “And here I thought you were just a fan of my boots.”

You could practically feel your brain cells going up in smoke.

“I… uh… well… I…” you stammered, cheeks burning. “Boots… are great,” you managed, wanting to sink into the earth.

“Yeah? Because I seem to remember you looking… elsewhere last time,” he teased, stepping a little closer, enjoying every second of your embarrassment.

“Oh, no! Just… boots!” you squeaked, backing up, practically tripping over yourself. “I really should go… water my… uh… plants!”

He chuckled, savoring every second of your panic. “Good luck with that,” he said, throwing in one last wink as he slipped back into his apartment, leaving you in the hallway, feeling like you’d just gone through a slow-motion car crash.

Back in your apartment, you slid down the door, hands over your face as Clara’s laughter erupted over the phone.

“Boots?” she howled. “THAT’S what you went with? Boots?”

You groaned, banging your head back against the door. “Shut up, Clara.”

× × × ×

Determined to reclaim a shred of your dignity, you strode into the local coffee shop, praying for a quiet morning with zero embarrassing encounters. But, as if on cue, the universe had other plans.

There, right at the counter, was Bucky. He spotted you instantly, his face lighting up with that all-too-familiar grin that had haunted your dreams. There was no escape.

He waved you over, and before you could even think of pretending you hadn’t seen him, he was calling out, “Morning, neighbor! What’s your coffee order again?” His voice was loud enough that half the shop turned to look.

“Oh, um… it’s…” you stammered, but he’d already waved to the barista.

“Got it covered,” he said, leaning casually against the counter, eyes twinkling with mischief. “I’ve got a feeling you like it with extra cream.”

You choked on your own saliva, feeling your face turn crimson as he handed you the cup with a wink.

“Unless I’m wrong?” he added with a smirk, feigning innocence.

“N-Nope, that’s right!” you managed, grabbing the cup like it was a shield. “Extra cream… perfect.”

He chuckled, gesturing to an empty booth in the corner. “Great. Then you won’t mind sitting down with me for breakfast.”

“Oh no, really, I should—”

He raised an eyebrow. “What, got somewhere better to be?”

You froze, helplessly aware that the entire coffee shop was listening in. You managed a nervous laugh, mumbling, “Well… no, I guess not…”

Before you knew it, you were sitting across from him, desperately trying to keep your eyes anywhere but his face, your cheeks burning as he sipped his coffee and watched you with a smug smile.

“So,” he said, leaning forward, “what’s a girl like you doing watching a guy like me online, anyway?”

Your jaw dropped, coffee cup halfway to your mouth. “I—I wasn’t watching—It was research!” you spluttered, already kicking yourself for falling right into his trap.

He chuckled, clearly reveling in your embarrassment.

“Oh, sure, ‘research,’” he said, nodding like he totally believed you. “I get it. You know, it’s important to be informed.”

You practically shrank into your seat, glancing around to see if anyone else had heard. “Could you not say that so loudly?”

He smirked, taking a long, deliberate sip of his coffee.

“Relax, I’m just curious,” he said, leaning in close enough that you could smell his aftershave. “Gotta say, it’s a little flattering to have a fan right next door.”

Your brain completely short-circuited. “Fan? I—no! I mean, not like that… I… I barely even…” You could feel the lie crumbling in your throat as his smirk deepened.

“Uh-huh. Then why did you look like you were about to sprint every time you saw me?” He tilted his head, studying you, eyes twinkling. “And I swear you turned pink the second you walked in here.”

Your hands shot up, covering your cheeks. “I did not! You’re imagining things.”

“Am I?” he said, leaning back with a satisfied grin. “Because it’s like clockwork. Every time I’m around, you look like you’ve been caught red-handed. I don’t mind, you know,” he added, shrugging nonchalantly. “I’ve got nothing to hide.”

You let out a strangled laugh, ready to crawl under the table.

“That’s… obvious,” you muttered, feeling as though you might combust at any second.

“Okay, so since we’re having breakfast together, how about you tell me: any favorite scenes?” He laughed, looking entirely too amused as he stirred his coffee.

You practically choked on your coffee, face flaming as you tried to hide behind your cup.

“I—I can’t believe you just asked that!” you squeaked, horrified and unable to meet his gaze.

“Oh, come on,” he grinned, clearly enjoying every second. “It’s just small talk. I mean, who better to ask than a neighbor?”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “Can we please pretend this conversation never happened?”

“Nope. Can’t do that,” he replied, laughing. “I think it’s a little late for that.”

Just as you were starting to pray for an earthquake to swallow you whole, you glanced up at him, cheeks still flaming.

“Did you… did you know I recognized you this whole time?”

He leaned back, a satisfied smile spreading across his face.

“Of course I did,” he said, laughing. “Figured it out the second I saw that look on your face. I just wanted to see if you’d ever bring it up.”

“Oh my god,” you muttered, feeling mortification seep into your very bones. “And you kept messing with me?”

“Of course,” he said, raising an eyebrow with a wicked grin. “I was just waiting to see how long it would take for you to crack. Guess now the ice is broken, huh?”

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head. “You’re the worst.”

He winked, finishing his coffee. “Yeah, but I make breakfast interesting, don’t I?”

You laughed, feeling the last traces of embarrassment fade away—well, at least enough to breathe normally again. But just as you started to feel almost… comfortable, Bucky tilted his head, giving you a curious look.

“So, neighbor,” he said, smirking, “I’ve gotta ask… what’s your name?”

You blinked, realizing with a jolt that you’d never actually told him. In all your attempts to dodge, deflect, and survive the relentless teasing, you hadn’t even bothered to introduce yourself.

“Oh… right,” you mumbled, feeling your cheeks heat up again. “I, uh, guess I never actually said.”

“Nope,” he replied, leaning in with a grin. “I just assumed you wanted to keep a little mystery between us.”

You rolled your eyes, though a smile tugged at your lips. “Trust me, I’m not that mysterious.”

“Really?” he replied, eyebrows raised. “Because all this time I’ve been calling you ‘Yep.’”

Your face went red as you remembered the first time you’d stammered a barely coherent “yep” instead of an introduction. “Oh my god. You haven’t been calling me that in your head this whole time, have you?”

He shrugged, smirking. “It’s kind of cute. Suits you, actually.”

You groaned, but laughed despite yourself, finally holding out your hand across the table. “Alright. I’m Y/N. Officially.”

“Y/N,” he repeated, taking your hand, his grip warm and firm. His smirk softened into something a little more genuine. “Good to meet you, Y/N. Officially.”

His hand lingered in yours for a beat longer than necessary, and for a moment, there was no teasing, no innuendos—just the two of you, sitting across the table, smiling like two normal people who’d just met under… semi-normal circumstances.

Then, just as you were starting to think maybe, just maybe, you could get used to this weirdly charming neighbor situation, he leaned back, that mischievous glint creeping back into his eyes.

“Now that we’re on a first-name basis,” he said, winking, “you can tell me all about your favorite scenes. You know, for professional feedback.”

You burst out laughing, face in your hands as he watched you with a triumphant grin. Yep, you thought, already regretting nothing and everything.

3K notes · View notes

essycogany · 4 months ago

Text

Sonic As A Villain

I don’t have a name for him, but this is my interpretation of Sonic as a villain. Here’s a hint, imagine if you noticed it, but not through his personality.

I’ve seen many interpretations of Sonic as a villain and instead of having him be a Sonic but on a bad day like Scourge. Sonic but dark and more violent like in Sonic X. Or Sonic but insane like Fleetway or Chaos Sonic, let’s have something different.

Have you ever noticed how Sonic can always manipulate a situation? He does it a bunch when he fights or interacts with people. It’s almost never in a negative way, but it does come across as a bit prideful and egotistical. Usually everything ends up going his way or has to go his way.

I believe if Sonic was ever to be a villain, he’d be a master manipulator. Funnily enough Sonic barely ever lies about things in most continuities, but at the same time is able to trick people or bend things to his will whenever he needs to. I’d like to think a villainous Sonic would be perceived as a good guy. Like standing up for Tails, but instead of moving on and letting Tails join him, Sonic manipulates Tails into beating up the bullies who bullied him.

He’d make Amy feel as if she doesn’t need to fend for herself and tell her to rely on him whenever she needs help. Or tell Knuckles to never trust anyone or ends up not inspiring him, so Knuckles stays antagonistic and untrusting. He’d inspire people to be the worst versions of themselves. Therefore creating a toxic atmosphere. Ideas like that.

This Sonic would be one who’d not care about being famous or rule over anything like a dictator. He’s like normal Sonic in a sense that he goes by his own rules, but it’d be for the worst intentions. He also takes advantage that he’s fast and uses his speed as a weapon. Destroying homes, pulling pranks, stealing, messing up the ecosystem, and all that jazz. He might save the world if it meant he didn’t have to die. But he doesn’t care if some Egg-shaped scientist is destroying the world. As long as he’s not bothering Sonic, why should he care? If he does go against Eggman or any other villains, he’d most likely kill them on the spot. Not out of heroism, but just out of spite. He doesn’t like being bothered.

When he says he doesn’t mind being the bad guy, he means it literally. He’d lack the emotional depth Sonic has and be a caricature of the “Cool guy being a jerk” trope. He doesn’t care if he’s seen as evil or not. He just likes causing mischief. No tragic backstory for him. Sonic’s the way he is because he chooses to be. That includes when he’s the bad guy.

He could act like a good guy in front of a crowd, but in reality, he’s causing the issues people believe he’s saved them from. All you gotta do with an evil version of him is turn his best/worst attributes of his personality and crank them to 100. He doesn’t have to be wild and crazy about it. He’d be just as chill and laid back as normal Sonic. Except he enjoys the chaos around him. Unlike other evil interpretations he’s the most similar to normal Sonic. And it makes things so much worse when he causes problems.

This isn’t the perfect idea, but I do like the concept of Sonic but evil in a way that almost doesn’t change his morals/personality.

413 notes · View notes

that-weird-thing-in-the-woods · 2 months ago

Text

:) you all know what time it isssss

Danny Al-ghul

But not in the way you would think. So the Fentons find out about Danny being phantom (catching him changing or something) and {this is a Bad Fenton Au so we gonna traumatizing the fuck out of this boy} and they experiment and torture him for a few weeks to a month in this time frame Jazz, Sam and Tucker have died and have not come back as ghost due to dying by a ghost blaster ( hint hint )

And Danny eventually die (fully this time) due to torture and starvation (They didn’t think ‘Ghost’ needed to eat) and when Danny died he gets yeeted into a part of the Zone no one goes to and when I say no one I mean NO ONE and eventually crashes into it

And now into a bit into this part of The Zone it is actually The Home of the dead Al-ghuls and their assassins + some pit demons but they aren’t really that conscious…I guess I mean they move around and sometimes talk or well scream because they are infected by The Madness (Pit Rage) and kinda act like obsessiveness ghost…oh I never explained what that was well I do it in the next post or something but for the time it just means feral and more animalistic than a normal ghost would be

So basically Danny crash landed into a feral Pit {you see what I did there} and after some shenanigans and shit the dead and Feral Al-ghuls kinda just accepted into the family I mean the past tense assassins and the younger dead Al-ghuls listen to them so he’s a part of them now

And if you were to ask one of the Al-ghuls ( If they were sane enough for that ) they would basically say

=====================================

“Yeah that Danny we don’t know who’s kid he is and he’s not really into the hole assassin thing and he’s far to soft to be an Al-ghul but he heals us and takes care of the younger ones so he’s part of the family and no one’s going to take him away” * proceeds to rip out the core of the ghost who asks and eats it or brings it to Danny because he eats less than everyone else ( he doesn’t he just doesn’t eat fucking CORES)*

=====================================

What I mean about healing them is that Danny constantly carries around a never ending black marble bowl { like in my Snake Empress Au } of the purest ecto you can have ( Clockwork gave it to him for helping the Ferals and the LOLS by the misunderstandings from the future you’ll give it in a sec ) and when ghost are feral instead of cuts and stuff they break and crack like a porcelain doll or something else that cracks that like that and pours a bit into the crack/break

——————————————————————————

Now onto the DC part of this! So while Tim was looking for Bruce in the timestream {like in my Void and Prism Au} and somehow ends up in front of a giant temple like building that is surrounded by multiple lagoons and lakes of Lazarus pits ( and that a bit concerning in itself ) and as Tim walks in he hears footsteps and the pulling of fabric on the ground so he turns around not really knowing what to expect but he was most definitely not expecting the most beautiful boy he’s ever seen but what caught his attention is the black marble bowl that has the purest Lazarus water he’s ever seen and a few shenanigans and a get together later Tim is now dating this ethereal, beautiful, kind he should probably stop while he’s ahead before he goes on for hours {So basically Tim is down bad for our little ghost boy} who so happens to an Al-ghul and Danny helps Tim find Bruce but Danny makes Tim promise to keep in contact ( which Tim was going to do anyway and not to mention Danny’s literal Amy of Feral Al-ghuls/assassins/pit demons who will kill him and than hunt him in death for his core to give to Danny as a trophy and just for the LOLS let’s have everyone misunderstand that Danny is an Al-ghul )

So a few years later Tim and Danny are still in contact and Tim is still down bad but he still hasn’t told everybody about it until one day the Batfam fucks up and Tim fucks off to The Ghost Zone back to his boyfriend ( possible fiancé but still hasn’t told anyone)

=====================================

The JL-JLD: running around like headless chickens

The Batfam: Much angst

Tim and Danny: chilling out and being in love and shit

====================================

And now on to the details of this!

For Danny’s outfit I’m thinking something like this

And he’s wearing some jewelry like this

And for hair

also here is a pic of the black marble bowl ( it is the same in my Snake empress au and in this )

=====================================

nd that’s about it about this au and I hope you guys like it tell me if you want to see more of this byeeeee

312 notes · View notes

gallifreyanhotfive · 1 year ago

Text

Things you can't convince me aren't canon

The Doctor is autistic.

The Doctor and the Master are definitely divorced.

Five is asthmatic and has some sort of peripheral nerve damage in his legs (because his regeneration almost failed).

Nine wears Fitz Kreiner's leather jacket.

Time Lords are actually eldritch but normal humans can't tell because we can only perceive three dimensions at once.

River Song makes it out of the Library somehow.

The Spy Master first met the Doctor as 'O' when he was Eleven.

Sacha Dhawan plays a character called Reverend Matthew in the audio Ghost Walk, and I like to pretend it's the Master fucking around and being manipulative and shit in disguise. It's very entertaining, especially since a woman in his employ literally calls him Master at one point.

Evelyn knitted Seven's outfit.

Two and Jamie definitely had something going on.

Ood Sigma and hallucination Amy were Ten and Eleven's Watchers, respectively.

Eight is 'like that' (if you know you know) because the anesthesia Seven got delayed regeneration long enough that some of his brain started to die from lack of oxygen, bloodflow, etc etc.

If Survival had been a Sixey episode, he would have had a VERY different reaction to local catboy Master. (I said what I said.)

I'll add more eventually, but I need to sleep now.

2K notes · View notes

firstofficerkittycat · 1 year ago

Text

moffat shouldve hired me at age 10 to make amy and roryd relationship make sense due to the crack in the wall eating their lives and make river kill the doctor OF HER OWN VOLITION ON PURPOSE for tryna stop her killing hitler and make them fall in love by um fuckig uhhhj getting to know each other and id make the doctor cry more for thinking hes god and make clara not be ableist and give her way more of the good scenes that expand on her personality instead of just "yeah shes a teacher" and id make the doctor not destroy courtneys life for no reason and id give danny time to unlearn his troops r heroes shit but apart from that he's perfect and id put davros later in the season and kill clara in witches familiar where it wouldve been thee most descusting soul destroying dalek continuity timeloop of the century and id have a scene like 3-5 episodes after mummy on the orient express where perkins is seen leaving the tardis with the doctors sparkly little shirt on and id have bill never be told to calm down ever and have her OWN THEME PLAYING WHEN SHE IS SAVING THE WORLD SPECIFICALLY EXTENDED FROM 1:32 AND NOT TWELVES THEME AND NOT HAVE HIM BE LIKE OMG I SAVED THE WORLD WHILE SHE WAS LITERALLY RIGHT THERE SAVING THE WORLD but moffat said no ur ten. and now my name is megamind

moffat should of hired me to protect clara from him

#i cant get into cyberbill sry im too tired. also i really dont know. idk #i love the imagery but fucking hell #ur emotions make u dangerous??????really???after saying shes got a temper for having normal reactions to fucked up shit #hate it. hate it #also like. dont blow a massive hole thru her. holy shit dont do that #maybe the cyber thng just couldve happened to someone else #cybernardole lmao #also the random pro life episodes in 12 era were w i l d #edit this is a real thought now cus honestly give nardole the most traumatic and heartbreaking death that would of been great #pilot thing couldve happened in so many ways she didnt even have to die bc we have no idea what the pilot is #but also the image of cyberbill holding the doctor and looking up at the sky was top 10 and like nardole doing that would not hit so #we need to flesh out nardole as a character more first #make it about river. river meant a lot to him too he wasnt just her random guy they were good friends #they robbed a lot of shit together. yeah #SHE WAS THE ONE that made him cybernetic bc he had a horrible accident YES #HOLY SHIT NO IF NARDOLE WAS A 3D CHARACTER HIM DOING THAT SCENE WOULDVE BEEN SO PERFECT CUS HE IS LITERALLY HIS CARETAKER #AND THEY ARE PROCESSING GRIEF TOGETHER #fuck. naaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh i couldve done. THings #doctor who #clara oswald #amy pond #rory williams #river song #bill potts #thoughts #doctor who spoilers

22 notes · View notes

rubberbutton · 1 month ago

Text

So, I have this wacky Javert & Cosette detective agency AU idea that I’ll probably never write…

Post-Seine Javert starts a private detective agency — reuniting loved ones, shutting down extortion rackets, stopping forced marriages, things like that. He doesn’t make any money because he fails to collect payment on the rare occasion he’s not working pro bono. [Very Angel Investigations, sans vampires … unless?] The work is both penance and its own reward.

Bored of social calls and society dinners, Cosette decides to help him in his work. Javert refuses her, but she keeps showing up. She proves herself useful, as no one ever suspects her of being a double agent, she’s clever, and she can cry on command — which is an incredibly effective distraction. Since Paris’s underworld is already familiar with him from his previous profession, Javert has had difficulty making progress on some of his cases. But Cosette is entirely unknown. Grudgingly, he allows her to help on his smallest, safest, most respectable cases. Which rapidly escalates into her running the place. He’s really not an ideas man.

There are capers! Escapades! Daring rescues! A heart-warming Christmas episode!

Valjean and Marius are given to believe that Cosette’s time is spent volunteering with ladies aid societies. When the truth comes out, Valjean is apoplectic, and it’s the first real risk to his relationship with Javert (well, post Seine, haha), especially when Javert makes it Cosette’s choice whether to continue. Marius’s anger burns out much quicker; that boy is nothing if not easily led.

Meanwhile, Montparnasse has filled the leadership vacuum left by Thénardier and has made great inroads in the Parisian organized crime scene. With Javert foiling many of his more lucrative business interests, Montparnasse decides it’s time to deal with with him more permanently...

Other odds and ends for this ‘verse:

Javert accidentally adopts some urchins when he attempts to cultivate them as informants, but they keep showing up like stray cats when they realize he’ll feed them.

Having heard it in her tenderest years, Cosette quickly picks up the accent and argot of the street and becomes a mistress of disguise.

She also purchases an umbrella with a stiletto hidden in the handle, which she mostly uses to underline her better rhetorical flourishes.

Whilst Javert is not an easy man to like, Cosette appreciates his honesty. Granted, that honesty is couched in the most pessimistic, condescending and insulting way imaginable. But after her father and her husband gaslighting her for years, it’s a relief to not second guess the information someone gives her.

They both appreciate having someone to commiserate about Jean Valjean’s idiosyncrasies with. “You know the way he clears his throat when he disapproves, but won’t say he disapproves — and if you ask him if he disapproves, he’ll deny it?” “I know it very well!”

After Jean Valjean is finished being furious, he moves right on into being jealous. He wanted them to get along, but not quite this well. He of course would rather eat glass than admit it.

Also, as many of les amis survive as I can reasonably get away with. Definitely Courfeyrac, because I like him. Probably Bahorel, in case they need some additional muscle when working a case. And Joly because they’d need someone with a medical background to identify the cause of death/provide medical aid. Also no one should die with a cold, talk about insult to injury.

Anyhoo. Everybody lives happily ever after with a gentle ’90s TV glow. Fuck you, Victor-Marie Hugo.

#I just think Cosette & Javert would be a very interesting dynamic #cosette #javert #les miserables #les mis

90 notes · View notes

writingtraumaforever · 2 months ago

Text

Die With A Smile: A Sonadow Oneshot

Notes: My friend challenged me to write Sonadow karaoke. This is the result. Very crackhead. Much gay.

Summary: Shadow loses a bet with Rouge and has to attend a karaoke party. Shenanigans ensue.

Rating: T for language

Start:

Shadow has got to stop placing bets with Rouge.

It’s his own fault, really. His ego is too big, and his need to prove himself as the Ultimate Lifeform in every possible way is far too strong. Rouge? Rouge knows this and takes advantage. Every. Time.

And as it has been many times before, her cons came in the form of a bet.

Walking over with a towel, she fiddled with it in her hands as she spoke, “So you coming to Amy’s Karaoke Spectacular??”

“I’ve already answered this. Seven times,” Shadow grumbles as he washes dishes, passing one off to Rouge to dry. This is their routine. They’ve been roommates for a little over eight months now, and the deal is whoever doesn’t cook has to wash the dishes. Tonight, that’s Shadow.

Rouge gives him a little pout, placing the dried dish on the rack and waiting for the next one, “Aw come on, Shadow.. Not even for me?”

“Why on earth would that make a difference?” Shadow questions with a quirk of his brow and teasing little smirk.

Rouge rolls her eyes at him with a huff, “Okay then. What if I said ‘pretty please’??”

“The physical appearance of the please doesn’t matter,” Shadow says unbothered, handing the next dish to her as he then begins scrubbing at the pan the chopped potatoes had cooked on, “And begging doesn’t suit you..”

“Hmph,” she growls a bit, placing her hands on her hips a moment before then growing a slow smirk, “What if we made a bet??”

Shadow’s ear twitches at that, looking at her out of the corners of his eyes a moment. She has that mischievous glint in them. He knew it was trouble, and still he-

“I’m listening..”

Rouge moves the pan Shadow is working on out of the sink, Shadow’s brows furrowing questioningly as he watches her instead place the towel she’s been holding in his hands.

“Here’s the bet. I lose, I’ll cook and wash the dishes for three months.”

Shadow’s brow raises at her, looking at the towel in his hands a moment before back to her, “And if I lose I have to come to the karaoke spectacular??”

“AND sing a song of my choice,” Rouge adds with a wicked grin.

Shadow is immediately handing the towel back to her and shaking his head, “Absolutely not.”

“Oh what’s wrong??? Got a case of the stage fright??”

“No. I just refuse to lower myself to such insolent and ridiculous standards as singing cheesy songs that no one asked anyone to cover,” Shadow’s arms cross.

Rouge shrugs, “Fine. Guess I just didn’t expect the Ultimate Lifeform to back down from a challenge so easily.”

Shadow’s eyes narrow at her with a scowl.

Rouge’s narrow with a challenge.

“...We have a deal?” She asks, reaching her hand out to him with a knowing grin.

Shadow growls a bit, already mentally scolding himself for falling for this shit again. But he still finds his hand reaching out to shake hers, nodding with a firm, “Deal.”

Rouge giggles a bit giddily, “Great!”

“So what’s the challenge?” Shadow questions as he retracts his hand, realizing now he probably should’ve asked that before making this bet.

Rouge hands the towel back to him again, Shadow watching as she moves his hands into position under the tap of the sink. Shadow holds an end of the dish towel in each hand, arms outstretched and spread as wide as the towel goes. Rouge then reaches to turn on the water, the tap flowing in the space between his arms, himself and the towel.

She crosses her arms then, nodding her head to him with a simple, “Move the towel without letting go of either end or getting it or your arms wet. And NO chaos control.”

Shadow’s brow raises at her. Crimson eyes roll at this, smirking confidently with a scoff, “That’s it?? I expected more from you-”

He looks back down at the towel and his brain freezes.

He stares at it a long moment, the gears in his head practically groaning and creaking with how he tries to find the solution. He could move it to the left, but then his right arm would get wet. Same with the right getting the left wet. He can’t simply move it towards him because then it’s wet. His brain begins to hurt. Rouge can’t help but let her grin widen as he successfully allows himself to get overwhelmed and overthink the entire puzzle.

His teeth grit, growling low as his body starts to tremble.

Rouge just leans against the counter and waits, examining her nails as if she has all the time in the world.

They stay like that for a solid sixteen minutes, which is terrible for the environment to let the water run that long. And then Shadow groans and growls out, “I can’t! I don’t get it! What the hell am I supposed to do!? Tell me!! Tell me or I’m gonna destroy this damn sink and rip the towel to shreds–!”

Rouge simply takes the towel from him, moving her arms into position while holding the towel. She then moves her hand while still holding the towel to simply turn off the water, successfully retracting the towel back to her body without getting it or her arms wet.

Shadow just stares dumbfounded and feeling smaller than a pathetic worm.

“But you can’t just– you– that’s–”

“See you at karaoke~,” She coos as she playfully rolls the towel up to whip and snap his tail, making him jump about two feet with a yelp.

And that’s how he ended up here. Standing outside Amy Rose’s front door with nothing but shame for what’s going to happen tonight. He can hear music coming from the backyard, what sounds like an agitating rendition of ‘We Built This City On Rock and Roll’ being sung.

He could run. He could chaos control somewhere far away, and no one could ever force him to socialize or sing or any of it.

But he can’t.

He made a bet and promised Rouge he’d come.

And he always keeps his promises.

Taking a deep breath, Shadow collects his dignity while he still has it and lifts his hand to ring the white doorbell next to the pink door.

Breathing out the breath he had just taken slowly, he hears footsteps approaching from the inside.

The door opens to reveal Amy standing there with a wide grin that only seems to get brighter the second she sees it’s Shadow who had rang the doorbell.

“Shadow!” she beams, her voice reaching octaves that shouldn’t be possible for most Mobians. He’s always like Amy, though, so he tries not to seem too agitated by this.

He offers a tired sort of smile in return, not quite reaching his eyes but still trying to be in good spirits for his host’s sake, “Hello, Rose.”

Amy quickly reaches to grab his wrist, dragging him inside and shutting the door behind him, “Come in! It’s chilly out there..”

“Isn’t the party outside??” Shadow asks with a quirk of his brow. Amy giggles in response with a sheepish, “Well, yes, but we have a bonfire going and everyone is toasting marshmallows and hotdogs and there’s a chili bar with hot cocoa— I even made some coffee in case you showed up!”

Shadow hums with a soft look to his eyes at her thoughtfulness. “That was kind of you.”

“I’m so glad you came!” Amy grins, bouncing on her toes as she leads Shadow to the kitchen where Cream and Miss Vanilla are helping her whip up some more chili since they’re running low outside, “Rouge has been saying you’d be here, but I honestly was doubting her.”

Before Shadow can respond, another squeaky voiced girl is wrapping her arms tight around his torso and squeezing for dear life, “Mr. Shadow! I’m so glad you’re here!”

Shadow looks down at the rabbit hugging him, chuckling a bit as his hand rests between her ears and pets there tenderly, “Nice to see you too, Miss Cream..”

Cream giggles at how he addresses her formerly, looking up at him with those big, starry eyes he can’t help but have a soft spot for, “Miss Rouge said you were coming, but I wasn’t sure she was being honest.”

“Why would Rouge lie, Creamy Dear?” Miss Vanilla says as she approaches, “Hello again, Shadow.”

“Miss Vanilla,” Shadow nods to her politely before looking back to Cream, “Unfortunate for all of us, Rouge is right most of the time.”

Cream giggles at this, letting go of Shadow and moving to tug on his hand, “Come with me, Mr. Shadow! I have a free seat next to me just for you!”

Shadow smirks a bit and allows himself to be towed behind the little one towards the backyard’s door, giving a small wave to Amy and Vanilla as they stay back in the kitchen.

Maybe this wouldn’t be so terrible.. Shadow does enjoy seeing Cream. She reminds him so much of the time he spent on the ARK taking care of Maria.. That and the little rabbit has never once looked at him with any sort of judgment or fear in her eyes. She always looked at him as though he had all the potential in the world to be nothing but good. And he couldn’t ever say why that meant so much to him, but it did.

If Cream ever looked at him with disappointment, he’d lose his mind.

Upon entering the backyard, he looks around at the decorations. Amy really is the best host for gatherings. She never misses, always hits the nail on the head perfectly and seems to enjoy seeing everyone have fun and appreciate her hard work.

The yard has fairy lights dangling all around, circling a bonfire in the middle that is in the center of a stone firepit. There’s wooden seats around the firepit for those who get a bit chilly, though most are empty currently. Only Espio sits there, not seeming too keen on the cold weather. There’s a coat rack just to the right of the door with complimentary, hand-knitted gloves, hats and scarves. Next to it along the porch is the coffee, hot cocoa and chili bar Amy had spoken of along with a little basket with long, metal skewers sticking out of it and a chalkboard dangling from the front that reads ‘For your Hot Dogs and Marshmallows’. There were hot dogs and marshmallows stacked into little pyramids on a table, ready to roast. Amy even had a vegan option..

To the far left is a stage pressed against the wood fence surrounding the yard, white curtains providing a backdrop behind it and spotlights hanging from the bottom of the stage to provide good lighting.

On the stage bouncing far too energetically up and down was none other than the dynamic duo themselves: Sonic and Tails.

Sonic is jamming on his electric guitar he seems to have brought for himself and Tails is singing next to him with laughter in his voice. Sonic is banging his head so aggressively that Shadow wonders if he’ll still have all his quills by the end of the night.

Rolling his eyes at the ridiculous display, Shadow looks back down to Cream who leads him to the coat rack.

The rabbit lets go of his hand to ponder the choices of winter weather clothes for a moment before she reaches and pulls off a deep blue scarf, turning to him and holding it out for him to take, “I think this one will look nicely with your eyes!”

Shadow looks at the scarf as he takes it into his hands, observing it a moment. Amy really outdid herself making all these for everyone.

He can’t help but look at it and think of—

“Thank you,” he says with a gentle smile at the little girl, wrapping it around his shoulders and then tying it secure but comfortable around his neck, “I like your light blue one.”

Cream giggles at this, beaming at him as she rocks back and forth on her toes, “We kind of match!”

“I believe we do,” he says with a wink, offering his hand to her again which she takes with pride.

Walking them towards the stage, Cream Explains her seat is in the front row. She likely chose this spot due to her short size, but Shadow really dreaded being near the front like this..

As they approached the stage, Shadow took notice in who all was there.

Vector was DJ-ing, of course. Charmy was sitting on a speaker near him, watching Vector’s hands move over the sound system as if he was taking notes. Rouge had Knuckles cornered near the back of the seats, leaning towards him a little too close for Knuckles’ comfort if how red his face was was anything to go off of. Omega was stood behind them, seemingly ignoring them with his robotic eyes locked towards the stage. Sticks the Badger was there. She was a relatively new member of the group that Amy had apparently taken quite the liking to. And Shadow trusted Rose’s judgment.

Big the Cat was sitting in the front swaying side to side in his seat with his frog in his hand as if this was a slow song, not at all matching the upbeat momentum of it. Even Silver and Blaze were there, to Shadow’s surprise. It’s not every day one should break the time stream just to come to a party.

He doesn’t dwell on this, though. Moving with Cream towards the front to find his seat just as Sonic and Tails finish up their number. The group hoot and holler for the two, applauding as Sonic gives a dramatic bow and Tails sheepishly grins and rubs the back of his neck. They exit the stage and Vector announces the next song,

“Alright everyone! That was a pretty sweet song, gonna be tough to follow up with that! Next on the song list is another duet! ‘Club Can’t Handle Me’ by Flo Rida! Let’s see who our duetists are!”

Shadow’s eyes watch Sonic as he walks off the steps to the right of the stage, high-fiving Tails as they go. They’re both laughing and saying something to each other that Shadow can’t make out, but it’s probably dumb anyway.

Sonic’s whole voice is dumb. And his dumb face and his dumb smile and dumb eyes—

He’s looking at Shadow.

Shadow quickly looks away, feeling his cheeks heat up a bit as he dips his head down in hopes his scarf will mask it some. Was he staring?? No, he wasn’t- he just got lost in his thoughts of how dumb that faker is..

His eyes are on the ground as Vector pulls two random names from a hat and announces it will be Blaze and Big performing this next song.

“Woo! Everyone’s favorite purple felines teaming up for the win!” Sonic yells supportively, Shadow flinching slightly at how close he sounds.

Oh.

That’s because he’s close.

Bright red, signature shoes appear in his line of sight, crimson eyes trailing up Sonic’s form to find emerald looking right back.

Sonic smirks. Shadow scowls.

“Well looky here. Didn’t expect to see you here, Shadow!“ the blue hedgehog beams, wearing a red scarf that matches his shoes. His has a tiny ‘S’ on the end of it, Shadow notices. Amy must’ve made one especially for him.

“I try not to make a habit of social gatherings,” Shadow gruffly replies, looking away as if to take in the event except it’s really just to escape that gaze..

Sonic chuckles at that, hands moving to his own hips as he speaks, “Well, maybe you should..”

Shadow’s eyes return to him at that, eyeing the blue hedgehog questioningly which seems to make Sonic blush a bit as he quickly gestures to Cream.

“Looks like you’d make a certain little rabbit real happy if you came around more.”

Cream beams at that, standing on her chair to try and be as tall as Sonic, “I would be, Mr. Sonic!”

“See??” Sonic grins, looking at Cream now, “Who could say no to that face???”

Cream giggles, bouncing on her toes to which Sonic reaches over and picks her up to toss her up then set her back down as she laughs excitedly. He bends down as she speaks to him.

“Can I make you a ‘little-bit-of-everything’ chili dog, Mister Sonic?!”

Sonic winks at this, giving her a thumbs up, “You make the best ones, Cream.”

She nods with a determined face, dashing off to the chili dog stand as if she’s on a mission.

Sonic watches her with a chuckle, rubbing under his nose as Shadow looks at him..

Sonic looks at Shadow.

Shadow looks away.

Sonic smiles a bit at this, moving to take a seat next to Shadow as Blaze and Big start their performance. It’s quite a comical one. Blaze’s raspy and shier voice paired with Big’s own off beat and tonedeaf one. She definitely looks uncomfortable but Silver is giving her thumbs up in the audience so that seems to motivate her.

“So what made you come?” Sonic asks after a moment, looking at Shadow with a tilt of his head.

“Rouge,” he mutters, looking over at the bat who is still pestering that poor echidna, “Lost a bet.”

“Ah,” Sonic immediately answers with a grin, “She’s a trickster for sure.”

“Mm..,” Shadow nods in agreement, his arms crossed over his chest.

There’s a long moment of silence.

“…So how have you—“

“I’m getting coffee,” Shadow interrupts, standing from his seat and leaving Sonic behind. Sonic’s ears droop a bit, watching Shadow go with a quiet, “Oh. Okay. See ya.”

Shadow walks quickly towards the coffee bar, grabbing a cup once he gets there and working to fill it up with his heart pounding in his chest.

Anxiety is a bitch.

He takes a long shaky breath as he pours the drink, watching the steam rise from it. Black. Just how he likes it.

He cups it in his hands and blows on the top before taking a sip and immediately feeling his shoulders slouch and some tension fade. His sighs slow and takes another sip, swallowing down the lump that felt like it had been forming in his throat.

He hated he got like this. It always made him feel so weak. He didn’t do well in groups.. he always felt out of place or like he has nothing to contribute to conversation.

And that hedgehog… that damn blue hedgehog.

Sonic always seemed to make Shadow lock up even more than usual. Made him feel like his defenses were both down and up all at the same time. Like his walls were crackling apart and thus making Shadow panic to rush to build them higher and stronger.

He thought it would get better with time, but instead, it just seems to get worse.

He does fine on assignments or missions with Sonic, whenever they’re required to work together for the greater good. It’s easy to speak to him then. They work well side by side, a power that can’t be beat. But in casual conversation??? Sonic is.. intimidating.

He’s so quick witted and talkative. He always knows what to say and how to say it. Shadow admires this and hate it about him. It’s overwhelming.

Just like his dumb face.

After a moment to gather himself, Shadow moves to instead approach Rouge who sees him coming and snaps up with a grin, “You came!”

“I’ve been here,” he grumbles with a roll of his eyes, noticing how Knuckles seems relieved her attention is elsewhere.

Shadow can’t help but wonder if Knuckles feels the same way about Rouge as Shadow does about Sonic. Two painfully charismatic people talking to two painfully awkward people.

Except with Knuckles and Rouge, it’s flirting and bickering.

That’s not what Sonic and Shadow do.

Well.

They bicker.

And Sonic might be naturally flirtatious now and then.

But it’s not the same.

“Oh. Sorry, I’ve been busy with Knuckles here,” she smirks, gesturing to Knuckles who offers a small “sup” to Shadow, Shadow nodding back before returning his gaze to Rouge.

“How long do I have to stay??”

Rouge blinks, “But— you just got here?”

“I’ve been here for about ten minutes, actually. And that’s plenty long, I think.”

“Don’t be dramatic,” she rolls her eyes at him, placing a hand on her hip as she juts it out all sassy-like, “Besides, you still have to sing your one song.”

Shadow had been hoping she’d forgotten about that.

“Then can we just get it over with so I can leave??”

“No way!” Rouge huffs, poking his chest with a finger as she narrows her eyes at him disappointedly, “You are going to stay here and socialize and be happy about it! And when I decide you can sing and leave, you’ll sing and leave.”

She crosses her arms, sticking her nose up a matter-of-factly as she closes her eyes with a “hmph.”

Shadow blinks.

He looks at Knuckles for help.

Knuckles just shrugs at him, “She scares me too, dude.”

“What did you say?!” Rouge glares down at the echidna who flinches immediately with a “Nothing!”

“Oh I’m scary, huh??? You know what’s scary is an echidna whose only friend is a rock!”

“Oh yeah?! Well—“

Shadow leaves before he gets a headache.

He looks at the spot near the front that Cream has saved for him.

Sonic is still sitting there eating his chili dog and talking to Cream and Tails and now Amy as well..

He turns on his heel and makes his way to the bonfire where Espio sits alone. At least he can depend on Espio to not try and spark a conversation with him.

He sits in one of the wooden chairs, leaning back in it with a sigh as he sips his coffee.

Espio, in fact, does not try to talk to him. He keeps his eyes shut in silence a few seats away from Shadow. Honestly, Shadow thinks he might be asleep.

His eyes flutter shut, holding his coffee in his lap as he sighs and lets the karaoke going on fade to the background.

He surely won’t actually be able to sleep Like Espio. He’s use to silence in his slumber. White noise. Like when he was in the tank on the ARK..

But he might be able to look enough like he’s sleeping that no one will disturb him.

He stays like this a long time.. at least three or four songs are performed as he sits there unbothered.

‘Don’t Go Breaking My Heart’ performed by Silver and Cream.

‘Firework’ performed by Amy.

And ‘Anything You Can Do, I Can Do Better’ very ironically performed by Rouge and Knuckles.

The next performance is Tails singing ‘Count On Me’ when Shadow hears footsteps approaching.

He doesn’t open his eyes, hoping whomever it is will take the hint and leave him be.

His ear twitches at the sound of the wooden chair next to him creaking with someone being seated in it. The person takes a breath as if they’re gonna speak and then stops.

Shadow expects them to get up and leave.

Instead he hears some fidgeting and movement. And then he hears the quiet sound of guitar strings..

His eyes slide open just slightly to peer over and see Sonic sitting there with his guitar in hand picking a quiet and relaxing melody..

It’s… odd to see.

Sonic who is chaotic and fiery and adventurous and always loud and obnoxious and can’t sit still..

now sits there picking one of the softest and quietest melodies he’s ever heard.

And he looks content while doing so. His face is soft with a smile on his muzzle, humming quietly as he plays. Like a lullaby.

Shadow watches him a long moment.. and then his eyes drift over to the fire. He watches it burn as Sonic plays, finding himself almost hypnotized by the moment. The calm of it. The warmth and the lull of the melody..

He sips his coffee. Sonic doesn’t bother him.

It’s nice. Shadow wasn’t even aware Sonic played guitar before tonight, if he’s honest. He never thought the hedgehog could even sit still long enough to learn such a thing.

And without much thought, he voices this, “I didn’t know you played.”

The strumming stops a moment, Shadow seeing Sonic’s head lift out of his peripherals to look at him. Sonic starts playing again and shrugs as he does so, “Yeah, I have since I was a kid. Use to be in a band, believe it or not.”

“I shockingly can believe that,” Shadow says with a small quirk of his brow, eyeing Sonic as he sips his coffee to which Sonic chuckles at in response.

“I don’t play a lot anymore. Only when I need to clear my head some or am at events like this. Sometimes both..”

Shadow turns his head a bit more towards Sonic at that, eyeing him a moment as Sonic’s own gaze returns down to watching his own fingers move.

“…Has something been on your mind?”

Why is he asking that??? It’s not his business and he doesn’t care—

“Mm..,” Sonic shrugs, “Just been having trouble sleepin’..”

Shadow hums at that, “Can’t say I relate fully. As the Ultimate Lifeform, I don’t require sleep.”

Sonic’s head lifts a bit at that, looking at Shadow with a slight tilt of his head, “Seriously??”

“Mm,” Shadow nods.

“Then what do you do most nights??” Sonic asks curiously, his picking on his guitar never stopping.

“It varies..,” Shadow says, not planning to elaborate but seeing how Sonic is leaning in tentatively, he keeps going, “Sometimes I read. Sometimes I do research for work.. sometimes I watch the stars or go for a run.”

Sonic smiles a bit at that, seeming to relate to that, “So you never sleep at all??”

“Well.. occasionally. For the sake of the pastime. Or for the sake of simply resting for a bit.. shutting down and not having to think for a period of time can be therapeutic.”

“I can’t imagine not sleeping,” Sonic says with a chuckle, “I’m a professional sleeper, I’ll have you know.”

“Well what kind of professional sleeper has trouble sleeping?”

Sonic’s cocky demeanor falters at that, looking at Shadow with a faded smirk before he looks back down to his guitar and mutters, “I’ve been having nightmares is all.. they’ll go away, though, and when they do, I’ll be a shooin’ for the Snooze-lympics.”

Shadow watches the blue hedgehog deliver the joke with a little grin, but he sees how it doesn’t meet his eyes..

He knows about nightmares.. he has far too many of his own.

“Do.. you want to talk about it??” Shadow asks after a moment, holding his now nearly empty coffee in his hands as he shifts his body a bit more towards Sonic.

Sonic hums a bit, looking up from his guitar to the fire instead. He seems hesitant. Reluctant. Shadow won’t push him if he is made uncomfortable by the conversation. He shouldn’t have asked in the first place, frankly.

“…You know.. in all my years of heroing and what not, I’ve rarely not been able to save someone,” Sonic says after a long pause, Shadow’s brows furrowing a bit at the subject change but he doesn’t interrupt.

“..So I guess when I fail, it would haunt me.. huh?”

Shadow purses his lips, not liking the way Sonic guilts himself but understanding the toll being a hero can take, “Makes sense..”

Sonic nods.

“..It’s the same dream. Over and over. Reaching and not being able to grab it. Not being fast enough.”

Shadow feels a sense of uneasiness grow inside him, his heart starting to rise into his throat again. He grips his cup a bit tighter and raises it to sip to try and swallow the feeling back down.

“I watch it fall like a star.. out of my sight. I try to get to it, but it’s like I can’t move. I feel so helpless..”

Shadow swallows the last of his coffee but keeps the cup to his lips, eyes staying on Sonic.

“…Why didn’t you let me save you, Shadow??” Sonic’s eyes lift to Shadow’s then and Shadow feels his chest hurt.

When did Sonic stop playing his guitar??

The only sound now is the crackling of the fire and the distant karaoke performance currently happening on stage.

Shadow doesn’t answer. Just watches Sonic in a long moment of silence. Sonic doesn’t push. He just waits, leaning his elbows against his guitar in his lap and chewing on the inside of his cheek.

The ebony hedgehog lowers his cup after a moment, clearing his throat before speaking at last, “I-… don’t really remember much of that event.”

Sonic doesn’t seem too convinced of his answer, so Shadow tries to add, “After the fall, I simply remember waking up and not knowing anything anymore.. I’m not sure what was going through my head—“

“You remember,” Sonic says. And there’s such conviction in his voice that Shadow’s mouth immediately shuts. Their eyes stay locked as if a challenge.

Shadow’s crimson orbs glare for a moment longer before Shadow huffs and pushes himself to stand from his chair. Sonic watches with his ears sinking back a bit.

“I’m leaving. Tell Rose I appreciated the hospitality.”

Sonic stands then, moving his guitar out of his lap and setting it on the chair, “Shadow, wait—“

“Alright! Next up is a special request from our belovedly devious Rouge the Bat!” Vector announces from the stage, Rouge standing beside him with a wicked little grin. Shadow is making his way to the door with Sonic not far behind him.

“Our two performers will be..,” Rouge whispers in Vector’s ear and Vector seems a bit stunned, “Sonic and Shadow???”

There’s immediate silence and whispers among the group, Shadow’s attention brought to the stage upon hearing his name and his eyes widening at realizing he’s being summoned.

Sonic too has paused, staring at the stage and then back to Shadow and then the stage again.

Shadow doesn’t spare a glance to Sonic, defensively crossing his arms with a stubborn, “I was just leaving.”

“Ohhh no you don’t, Grumps,” Rouge immediately protests, leaping from the stage to glide over to Shadow and tug at his arm, “You promised me a song of my choice. It’s your turn to perform.”

“Now is not the time, Rouge,” Shadow growls under his breath to which she shrugs unbothered.

“Not my problem,” she pulls him to the stage and pushes him towards the steps, “Now knock ‘em dead, Shadow! Metaphorically, of course.”

Sonic has walked to the stage now as well, seeming very off-put by this but also seeming as though he’s resolute.

Shadow watches him approach the mic on the stage, refusing to join him as he stands at the bottom of the stairs. He looks out at the small intimate crowd staring at him expectedly and then back to Sonic and then to Rouge and—

“Fuck this-“ he huffs before quickly making his way towards the exit again, Rouge standing from her seat to follow him.

“Hey! Shadow, hold on a second!”

The music starts playing.. emerald eyes watching the black hedgehog making his escape. Sonic swallows hard, moving a hand to hold the mic as he keeps his gaze on Shadow.

A surprisingly angelic “oooh” coming from him as he warms up to the song. Shadow’s steps falter a bit at this, not expecting Sonic to actually perform. Rouge stops behind him, her attention turning back to Sonic again, and then Shadow who is now standing still with his hand on Amy’s backdoor..

“I.. I just woke up from a dream,” Sonic sings with a slight sway on his feet, trying to loosen up some but his eyes stay on Shadow, “Where you and I had to say goodbye..”

Shadow’s brows knit a bit, turning to look towards the stage again and seeing Sonic standing there watching him.

“I don’t know what it all means..,” Sonic sings with a small shrug, averting his eyes a bit shyly now as he continues, “But since I survived, I realized..”

Shadow steps away from the door.

“Wherever you go that’s where I foooollow. Nobody’s promised tomooooorrow.”

Sonic’s eyes shut as he grips the mic a bit tighter and gives his all, “So I’ma love you every night like it’s the last night- like it’s the last night!”

Everyone watches as Shadow approaches the stage between the chairs, Sonic singing his heart out quite literally into the mic with an undeniable amount of emotion and earnest.

“If the world was endin’, I’d wanna be next to youuuu! If the party was over, and our time on earth was throuuuuugh.”

Sonic’s eyes open again to look up at the stars now, reaching a hand out to them as if to grab, “I’d wanna hold you just for a while..,” his hand returns to his mic with shut eyes, “And diiiiiie with a smile!”

Everyone is in absolute awe of what’s happening. Sonic’s voice demands attention and captures them with its feeling, but so does the fact it feels like a very intimate moment between Shadow and Sonic..

“If the world was ending, I’d wanna be next,” Sonic’s eyes open again, “to you..”

Sonic’s eyes widen a bit when he looks for Shadow but doesn’t see him, a quiet breath escaping him as he immediately backs from the mic and begins to leave the stage to the right to look for him when—

“Ooooh lost..”

Sonic’s eyes widen as he spins on his heels to see Shadow has joined him from the left side of the stage and is now holding the second mic singing into it..

He seems shy.. quiet at first, but his voice is so.. enchanting. Smooth like silk and mesmerizing.

“Lost in the words that we scream..,” Shadow sings with a knit to his brow, cheeks rosy as he glances to Sonic from the corners of his eyes, “I don’t even wanna do this anymoooore.”

Sonic quickly moves to his mic and joins in to harmonize as they both sing.

“‘Cause you already know what you mean to me!”

“And our love’s the only one—“

“Worth fighting for..”

“Cause wherever you go that’s where I—“ Shadow turns towards Sonic then, point down at the ground as if to make a damn point and Sonic just smiles and steps towards him a bit.

“—Fooooollow.”

“Nobody’s promised—“

“—tomooooorrow.”

Shadow and Sonic are now gripping their mics tight, and it’s as if the rest of the world has faded away.. Shadow’s stage fright gone as it feels as though they’re both confessing to one another right then and there.

“So I’ma love you every night like it’s the last night! Like it’s the last night!”

“If the world was ending, I’d wanna be next to youuuuu! If the party was over and our time on earth was throuuuuugh!”

Shadow gives an ever so small smile as he sings,

“I’d wanna hold you..”

Sonic harmonizing with him with a heart melting grin, “Just for a while..”

“And diiiiiie with a smile!!”

“If the world was ending, I’d wanna be next to you..”

Sonic smiles as he steps closer to Shadow, “Right next to youu..”

“Next to youuu..,” Shadow coos with a slight tilt of his head, taking a tiny step closer as well.

“Right next to youuu..,” they harmonize, Sonic’s hand moving to touch Shadow’s only for Shadow to reach and place his hand on the small of Sonic’s back. Holding him there, he pulls him close so their chests bump together.

Sonic beams at this, face going red as he tosses his head back and lets out a howled, “Ooh-Oh!”

And then Shadow is yanking Sonic in as the music reaches its climax, planting a hard and firm kiss on his lips to which the crowd of friends screams and cheers at excitedly. Whistles and applause but all of it is drainage in their ears as they share their kiss. Sonic’s free hand lifts to hold Shadow’s quills tight, fingers curling there as he holds himself to him and feels his heart soaring. Pieces of him mending that have been broken a long time..

Shadow feels whole in that moment. Complete. And not alone for the first time since he can remember..

It’s euphoric. It’s cheesy. It’s straight out of some corny chick flic and neither of them give a damn.

They eventually part a bit reluctantly, Shadow’s eyes staying shut as his forehead presses to Sonic’s with quiet pants for air. Sonic’s eyes open all half-lidded and dopey as he lifts his mic in the small space between them to sing,

“If the world was ending, I’d wanna be next to youuuu..”

Shadow smiles at him a bit dopey as well, opening his eyes as he lifts his hand to lock their arms and sing into his own mic, “If the party was over and our time on earth was throuuuugh..”

“I’d wanna hold you..,” Shadow’s hand lifts to cup Sonic’s cheek, “Just for a while,” Sonic’s head tilts to nuzzle into his palm.

Both of them then tossing their heads back to sing with their whole chest, “And diiiiiie with a smile!”

“If the world was ending, I’d wanna be next—“

“To youuuuuu!”

“If the world was ending, I’d wanna be next to you..”

Their foreheads touch again, noses nuzzling as they melt into one another.

“I’d wanna be next to you..”

Their eyes lock as the music fades, Sonic’s grin wider than ever and a soft little smile on Shadow’s own face..

He leans in to kiss him again only to be snapped out of his daze by the wolf whistling and applause their friends teasingly and knowingly give them.

A mix of “about time”s and “congratulations” were shouted at them as Shadow’s cheeks heat up beet red,

He turns his head away from them towards the back of the stage, trying to hide from the group. Sonic chuckles at this and moves to crouch slightly and tilt his head up to put himself in Shadow’s line of sight.

His hand moves to squeeze Shadow’s. And Shadow smiles and squeezes it back.

“In their defense,” Sonic teases with his thumb rubbing The back of Shadow’s hand, finally able to reach him..,

“That was super gay.”

59 notes · View notes

luveline · 2 years ago

Note

hi!! i was wondering if you would write more ab spencer, r, and baby amanda from your single dad au? :o they’re so precious <3

Thank you for your request! ♥︎ fem!reader 1.6k

"How come you aren't hungover?" Spencer asks.

You can barely hear him over the cacophony of the crowd. You're waiting for Hotch to finish his decathlon, the girls in their sunglasses, Jack and Morgan holding a homemade sign aloft.

Amanda's sitting on the barrier with her weight against Spencer's chest, her soft brown hair splayed out against his collar like a wave.

"I know the meaning of moderation," you say with a sweet smile.

You might be imagining the pinking of his cheeks. "Not moderate enough, clearly," he jokes.

JJ hadn't picked Henry up until three in the morning. Which is fine, Spencer will take Henry whenever he needs to, as per his self-ordained godfathering duties, but when JJ hadn't appeared at 11 like she'd promised, Spencer had obviously been worried.

"Things got a little… out of control." You dip your face to his ear. "I've never seen Emily dance like that. It was crazy."

"I wish I could've been there, but we had a date with Edward Tulane, didn't we, Amy?"

Amanda tips her head back at her father's affectionate tone. "Daddy, I can't feel my butt."

"Not your butt!" he says, taking her seriously but chuckling at the same time as he pulls her up and off of the barrier. With some careful manoeuvring, he's tucked Amanda into his chest, one hand held protectively over the bottom of her back. The other hooks behind her knees.

"Is that better?"

He speaks to her with the same fatherly fondness as always and every time you find yourself melty like butter in the summer sun. In Spencer's eyes, Amanda is the smartest, most interesting girl alive. You're tempted to agree.

"I was worried it might be depressing for her," he says, tucking her hair behind her ear. "It's sad for a children's story, you know? But she's really interested, and it's important for kids to hear sad stories. Children who read stories with unhappy plotlines are more empathetic, and have a stronger sense of justice." He smiles at her. "Plus, I think it's her favourite so far. She asked if we could read it again, all in one go. It's gonna take hours."

"That doesn't surprise me. I mean, she's yours. I thought you'd be reading her Tolstoy by now."

"I'm saving Tolstoy for first grade."

He's serious.

Hotch runs through the finish line and the members of the BAU that are assembled cheer loudly. He doesn't seem embarrassed at all, only proud, ducking down to give Jack a sweaty hug. Then he, Jack, and his new girlfriend move away from the group. The remaining members of your team start to break away, too.

The girls all want to go home and die in their own beds. Rossi and Morgan have separate dates. You're thinking you'll go home and shoot the breeze until a more reasonable bedtime when Spencer turns to you with his usual genial smile.

"Do you want to come over? We're gonna make pasta and watch Fraggle Rock."

Spencer's changed a lot since he became Amanda's primary caregiver, but some things stay the same. He loves doing things with other people and he'll always extend an invite if he thinks the other party might enjoy themselves. Going over for dinner feels a lot more intimate than his having an extra ticket for a foreign film festival, or late night takeout, though.

"I don't want to impose," you say awkwardly.

"Do you think you're an imposition?" Spencer asks in concern.

"No, just, you know, I don't…"

"Amy doesn't mind. Do you, sweetheart?"

"What?" says Amanda's little voice.

"Can Y/N come for dinner?" he asks.

Amanda smiles, pearly white teeth and cheeks chubby with baby fat. "Yes! We're gonna make pasta and watch Fraggle Rock!"

You laugh in delight.

"We decided in the car," Spencer explains.

"Here I thought you were telepathic." You direct your smile at Amanda's doe eyes. "I'd love to come for dinner. Thanks, baby."

Spencer has the cleanest car any parent has ever had. You know he spent days choosing the safest one he could find in his budget, and even more days on a car seat. His apartment is just as clean but way more crowded, stuffed to bursting with Amanda's toys and his books.

"I'm gonna change, do you mind?" he asks, leading you down the hall into the kitchen. Amanda had tipped half a juice box down his front, and the stickiness is clearly making him uncomfortable.

"No, by all means."

He smiles. "Stay here," he says with a feigned sternness, pointing one of his pretty fingers at Amanda. His daughter only giggles.

You follow Spencer with your eyes as he leaves.

"Will you take off my shoes, please?"

You look down. Amanda stares up at you, her round eyes pleading, one foot held a half inch off of the ground.

You leap to action, and say, "Oh! Yeah, baby, no problem," as you get down on your knees.

They're simple buckles and take all of ten seconds. Amanda holds onto your arm and lifts her feet one at a time so you can pull them off. Her small toes wiggle in her socks when she puts them back on the floor.

"Feel better?" you ask knowingly.

"Daddy says shoes are a con-d-struct," she tells you.

"They are!" you say, though whether you really agree might take some thought. "They're silly, huh?"

"Yeah. If we walked with no shoes, we would have tough skin like trees!"

"Like trees," you repeat. You love listening to little kids speak because they're so full of joy to share what they know, and Spencer Reid's kid? She is a walking book of facts. "That's so cool, did daddy tell you that?"

"Daddy tells me everything."

Spencer appears in a graphic t-shirt. You've only seen him dressed down through barely open hotel room doors or in photographs with Amanda. It takes a second for your brain to recognise what you're seeing.

He's a genius, so he understands what you're doing immediately.

"Oh no," he coos, bending down to take Amanda's shoulders into his hands. "I'm so sorry," —he kisses the top of her head— "I forgot all about your shoes. How will you ever get tree bark feet?"

It's sweet to see how she responds to his affection. Her eyes squint closed and she smiles softly, giggling when he scratches her shoulders through her dress.

"Thanks for releasing her, she can't stand wearing shoes when she doesn't have to," he says to you, nudging her out of the way to offer you his hand.

You take it, letting him pull you up. He doesn't let go of you straight away, instead brushing his thumb over your fingernails, one after another.

"I've been meaning to ask you to dinner for a while. I– I've never been any good at this part, I thought it would be harder, because Amanda's the only girl in the world I understand no matter how many books I read, and that's not going to last forever, but I…" Spencer's voice steadily quietens, until the tone he's using is dulcet, and his brows have pulled together. He's just as pretty frowning as smiling. "It feels easy, with you," he finishes.

"Are we having macaroni?" Amanda asks.

Spencer looks torn. "I was thinking rigatoni," he says.

"Gross, dad."

"Farfalle?"

"Bowties?" she questions suspiciously.

"Is that better than rigatoni?" he asks.

Amanda dwells on this, leaning her weight into your leg. It's an unthinking gesture that fills you with light.

"We can't have macaroni?"

You know from Spencer's bemused sigh alone that she's about to get her way.

"Do you mind?" he asks you.

Amanda pins you with a pout, raising her hands into a praying triangle. Her puppy dog eyes are killer and unnecessary.

"Whatever you want, babe," you say hurriedly.

She bursts off to her toys with an excited cheer. You're sorry to see her go, petrified of embracing yourself, and still majorly caught off guard by what Spencer said. He's wanted to ask you over for dinner for a long time, does that mean he likes you? And the way he'd held your hand — that's not an ambiguous affection.

You like Spencer. All the small things that make him him, and the huge things too. His daughter, his books, his genius mind and his clumsy heart. If he likes you too, you might just combust.

Spencer nips into the living room to put Fraggle Rock on TV. Amanda's sweet voice chases his heels, her singing a mixture of melodic gibberish and passionate recitation.

You linger as he starts to gather what he needs for dinner. He's either not worried about what you think of his confession or trying to hide that he is, knee deep in a recount of the invention of boxed mac and cheese when you touch his elbow.

"I know what you mean, about what you said before, I feel the same. It feels easy with you."

You don't know what it is. But Spencer knows everything, so you aren't worried.

He beams. His smile warps each word he says as he turns back to the saucepan he's filling with pasta. "Maybe we should get dinner without Fraggle Rock, sometime."

"I don't know, I don't think it gets any better than this." You nod your head toward the living room, Amanda's singing an adorable echo.

His smile grows impossibly bigger.

"Me neither," he says.

#spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x fem!reader #dad!spencer reid #dad spencer reid #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fic

1K notes · View notes

rosegoldthorns · 7 months ago

Text

I believe I have stumbled upon a system for fictional four sibling groups. It to my knowledge only consistently for SIBLINGS not friend groups. I will explain my hypothesis at the end.

Each sibling fits into one of these categories

- Mom Friend

- Blunt to a fault

- People pleaser

- The Dead One

For the dead one they don't actually have to have died but, quite frankly most of the time if I asked you which one was the dead one, one would come to mind almost immediately

Now Evidence

• Little Women

(This is the one I believe fits this pattern the most.)

- Meg: mom friend

- Jo: blunt to a fault

-Beth: the dead one (sorry)

- Amy: people pleaser

This is the only one I believe hole heartedly in. The rest I will receive criticism on if necessary as I am not super familiar with all of them.

• Narnia

-Peter: mom friend

- Susan: People pleaser

- Edmund: the dead one

- Lucy: blunt to a fault

• Robins (Batman)

(okay I know there is more than 4 robins and way more than 4 bat kids but for the point I am making I hope it counts.)(also I am pretty sure you thought of them when I mentioned the dead one)

Dick: the mom friend

Jason: the dead one (iconic)

Tim: people pleaser

Damian: blunt to a fault

• Todorokis

Touya: the dead one

Fuyumi: mom friend

Natsuo: people pleaser

Shoto: blunt to a fault

( I am a bit unsure about Natsuo but it's okay ig)

Now for the reasoning. For all of these the family aspect is a big part of their stories. When a writer wants to write a family story they often pick 4 siblings because it's big enough to work but not too many to loose track. Then you need to differentiate them. Bluntness keeps one distinct. Having one die adds drama. The other two keep the family together. From a writer point of view it makes sense.

If you have any more 4 sibling groups that follow this pattern please add on! I want to see if this pattern stands.

101 notes · View notes

pilferingapples · 7 months ago

Note

I was just reading the "Enjolras and his lieutenants" chapter and I noticed that Enjolras used the informal you for both Courfeyrac and Jehan, but not for Feuilly. Would you happen to know the historical/language reasons as to why that is? I thought it may be because both are students and where I'm from, students use the informal you, even if they don't know each other. But Bossuet addressed Marius with the formal you when they first met, so I'm not sure if that really is the reason for that. Does it mean that canonically, they aren't as close as Enjolras is with the others or could there be another reason for it? Also, do you know why he still only adresses them by their last names, even though he's using the informal you?

Nonny you are asking me about one of the Great Questions of the Novel: what the heck is going on with Feuilly and the t/v distinctions?

I am not going to dive into the weeds of standard t/v use,but --along with all the usual applications, in canon era and especially the kind of social circles that Hugo knew best and is setting up for the Amis, " tu" seems to have been common for young men to use together (a) with friends from childhood (b) among certain groups of Romantics , Because Romantic Friendship (c) particularly relevant here , among certain republican groups, because of the implied equality of everyone using it. Cosette will reference this use later:

And obviously all of this only makes Enjolras vous-ing Feuilly weirder!

And complicating the theorizing, Enjolras does use Tu for Feuilly later on, during his big barricade speech:

Écoute-moi, toi Feuilly, vaillant ouvrier, homme du peuple, hommes des peuples. Je te vénère.

I have no solid answer, only theories! Theory 1: Feuilly is, somehow, fairly new to the group in Lieutenants. Counterargument: then why is he already one of the Lieutenants? And in what seems to be a particularly Secret secret meeting with ONLY the Lieutenants in attendance?

Theory 2: Maybe Feuilly's much older than we generally estimate , enough to make the Tu seem less automatic? The later use of tu at the barricades seems to argue against that, but maybe that's a special " we're all fighting and about to die" level of intimacy, since Tu does seem to be in general use there? Counterargument: hugo refers to them all being Young so very, very often, and ok that seems to include Up To Maybe 35, but still. Feuilly's part of their age cohort by all other signs.

Theory 3, Not Very Satisfying but Realistic: Hugo's bein' weird. Hugo personally used Vous for almost everyone, unless they were either direct family or , to be blunt, someone he was having an affair with. He definitely used Vous in friendships most anyone else would have considered a definite Tu situation. Maybe Hugo had an idea about it that he didn't flesh out; maybe he just wrote that and didn't catch it in edits; maybe his handwriting there was just really especially awful and whoever did the Clean Copy that day * didn't transcribe it right and no one later down the line saw it as a typo. Mundane, unrelated to the narrative reasons.

Counterargument: none ,really, except it's kinda boring.:P

Theory X (silly fandom only theory) : Enjolras and Feuilly are trying to act like they are on more formal terms , for shenanigans reasons. Maybe they're working on their Cover for a Secret Mission. Maybe they're trying to hide the fact they've started dating.

As for the Last Name thing, it's just how some people , especially men, are? I don't know that it really needs more explanation, but by all means tell me if you've got a theory! Personally I've always liked " Everyone is named Jean (so they default to last names) XD

usually, but not always, Juliette Drouet

#thank you Nonny!!#sorry for the delay. my cats are VERY Helpful today #Feuilly talk #hey nonny nonny

93 notes · View notes

lennadanvers · 5 months ago

Text

Tsar Bomba*

Johnny Soap MacTavish x Reader

A/N: This is just angst. I wrote it quite some time ago, but I guess it's time I post it. I'm not sure if I really like it, but at least it has a cool name lol. It may or may not have a part 2. The ending I have in mind is not happy, either way. Other than that, I guess the only TWs are mention of past trauma, mentions of a narcissistic father, past narcissistic abuse, and just Johnny fucking up. If I missed anything, please let me know and I'll add it.

*Tsar Bomba: Soviet thermonuclear bomb that was detonated in a test over Novaya Zemlya island in the Arctic Ocean on October 30, 1961. The largest nuclear weapon ever set off, it produced the most powerful human-made explosion ever recorded. (Amy Tikkanen, Encyclopaedia Britannica, 2024)

Soap is an asshole. A complete and utter idiot, with zero regards for other people and their feelings. A stupid pile of scottish-

“Aren’t you gonna go after’er?”

When Ghost is giving you relationship advice, you know it’s bad. Not like Johnny didn’t know that before Simon asked one of the most useless questions he’s heard. Which is to say something, because even he's asking himself that same question.

Am I not gonna run after her?

Of course, the question doesn’t come alone. It implies many others, each of them a punch to the guts.

Should I? Does she want me to? Would it change anything? Do I deserve to drag this any longer? Why would she want me to be with her? Is she even capable of forgiving me? Am I? How could I do it? Why am I so stubborn? Why couldn’t I just do as she said just this once?

Truth be told, most of the questions are accusations. Guilt. Johnny doesn’t fight them. On the contrary, he sides with the feeling in an absurd display of a split personality. One part of him punches, kicks and bites (sadly, in his head he doesn’t carry any guns… Which is, now that he thinks about it, okay, because he deserves a very long suffering); and the other bares the weakest parts of him: neck, belly, the way he’s always known he doesn’t deserve the love he needs… Both versions of him have red cheeks and wet eyelashes.

For the first time since he’s met you- but not the first in his life- Soap thinks he should die. The same way he knows any object he lets go of will fall to the ground, he should die. It’s the next logical step: he let go of you- more like threw your heart to the floor, the thought makes him flinch-, so now it comes the end. You ran out the door, and now…

Now you’re coming right back.

You’re stomping in his direction. You’re blushing, dark red cheeks and nose that he usually finds beautiful, but that right now look awful. Because it’s rage red, hurt red, indignation red;and it’s all directed to him. All provoked by him. Stupid, idiotic him. Asshole him.

Maybe it’ll help you, to yell exactly that at Soap. Even better, you’ll do it in front of Simon. His closest friend, his coworker, his superior… He deserves the humiliation. You deserve to inflict it. You deserve everything.

You stop where it’ll be clear you’re yelling at him, but not close enough for him to touch you- he wouldn’t dare, either way. Except you don’t yell. You just take a deep breath and clench your fists.

“I fucking told you, Soap.”, your voice is shaking, and so are you. And him, now that you didn’t call him Johnny, “I told you to not do that. I told you why I… Why he… I told you!”

You had told him. Twice. He even had asked about it the second time. “I don’t have a relationship with him. I haven’t spoken to him since I was in high school. I moved away as soon as I could, and I’m happy I did. He’s not in my life anymore”. You were so proud when you said that, that there wasn’t a place in your life for your father.

You give Simon a quick glance, and the man stares back at you. He’s not going to pretend he hasn’t been present for the whole interaction. He’s not going to pretend he isn’t listening to you. It clearly makes you uncomfortable, but Johnny is willing to let you know that Ghost will probably kick his ass after this- maybe it’ll help a little with the awkwardness.

Your voice sounds more like a growl when you keep talking.

“I said I never want to see him again! Why would you do that?! Why did you…! He knows where I live! He went to my fucking job, MacTavish!”

Your lips trembles. You’re breaking a little, and he doesn’t know what it is. Pain? Fury? Frustration? Betrayal? Fear? Whatever it is, you make it disappear with another deep breath.

Johnny is terrified. One deep breath and your whole face relaxed. Your eyes don’t look like they’re about to flood your cheeks anymore. It’s a mask that says nothing. You’ve closed off.

It’s a stab to his spine. He knows you used to do this. You used to cry in the bathroom, quietly, and come out like nothing happened. You used to not be able to let him know how you felt. It took you years to cry in front of him for the first time. To trust him. To learn that he was safe.

And he violated your trust.

“This is over. We are over. I warned you! You knew not to do this, the only thing I… I don’t… If you wanted to do it you should have said so, that way I wouldn’t have wasted… You had no fucking right, Soap! I fucking told you I hate him. He went to my apartment! He was there! Why would you…? You had no right!”

He opens his mouth. Doesn’t know what to say, though. Or, actually, he doesn’t know what he can say. Sorry? Not nearly enough. Not even a fraction of what he feels, and even less than a portion of what you deserve. Soap knows the only thing that would fix this, he can’t do: not having done it in the first place. Not tracking your father down. Not asking him to meet up. Not thinking he wasn’t that bad. Not telling him how good you’re doing, despite how proud Johnny was of you. He should have never asked him for his blessing to marry you.

But you don’t want to hear his silence any longer.

“Don’t! I don’t want to see you ever again. I hope you’re happy. You know him now, congratulations! Now you know everything. I bet he was so fucking nice with you. I bet he said he was so proud of me, even if I never treated him right, didn’t he?”

No, Soap is every opposite of happy. Yes, he said that. Yes, at the time he thought your father was nice. He wants to stab himself in the heart for thinking that. He knows that man was an awful parent to you- hell, he wasn’t even a parent.

But that was his mistake, wasn’t it? For Johnny MacTavish, family is the most important thing. Without family, nothing else is worth it. And seeing you celebrate birthdays and holidays only with friends, knowing your family was out there, far from you… He didn’t want that to happen in your wedding, too.

Key words: he and wedding. First mistake: it wasn’t about him. Fucking selfish asshole. Second mistake (this one was more of an idiotic fantasy that he didn’t deserve): wedding. Yes, maybe his father had asked his mother’s dad for her hand before proposing. And? Those were Johnny’s parents. Why in hell would you want him to ask someone else if it was okay for you to marry him?

“He does that! I’m not crazy... He’s- he's nice to other people! He’s manipulating you. And I’m not going to have that narcissistic bastard in my life. You and him can stay the fuck away from me! Even if you didn’t love me, there was no need to do it.”

Don’t love you? Soap wants to cry- his body is just frozen in place. He is a miserable person. All he does is love you. How did he manage to make you think otherwise? To make you feel otherwise? How did he dare do the only thing- the worst thing…?

Your head snaps violently in Simon’s direction, and Soap can almost see him bracing himself for what’s about to come. Which is an unnaturally calm and controlled voice.

“I’m sorry you had to see this, Simon. And I’m so sorry you have a friend who doesn’t understand boundaries or respect, at the very fucking least. I’ll put his stuff in a bag, and I’ll leave it with the doorman, in case you want to go get it for him. I’m sorry you got involved in this, I… I’m so sorry.”

There you are, apologizing again. Johnny was working on that with you. He had been for the past couple of years. But you’re doing it again, even though it is not your fault. It never is, and you’re always sorry, and he wishes he was dirt so at least you could step on him without feeling guilty. And he wants to rip his own heart out and hand it to you. He wants to use his stupid nails to scratch his stupid chest open, his stupid hands to break his fucking ribs and any other bone he can find in the way. He wants to crack his head open against the wall. He wants… It doesn’t matter what he wants.

Because you’re leaving.

You’re leaving, and you’re not crying. You’re so hurt that all the effort you did to open up, all these years working on learning how to be vulnerable, just disappeared. You’re back to the place you were when he met you. Except it’s worse now.

He made a mess. Johnny fucked you up.

For the millionth time today, he wants to die.

#fanfiction #cod #simon ghost riley #lennadanvers #task force 141 #john soap mactavish x reader #john mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish #soap mactavish #soap #soap cod #soap x reader #angst #no happy ending #angst no comfort #angsty

70 notes · View notes

sammygender · 1 month ago

Note

is there any point in the series that sam could have made an escape and actually successfully gotten away from dean and hunting, or do you think that his lack of support system made it impossible

FANTASTIC QUESTION. sorry im gonna ramble for 7374893594 words now

tldr, past like s3 (and certainly past s5) i think its kinda impossible.

early seasons, like 1-2, sure and totally, he almost does, he plans on it. but then the demon deal for his life happens and theyre trapped in cycles forever and ever and everything becomes a lot harder and, also, sam and dean just naturally become more and more codependent, decreasing the chances of them ever being able to have a 'normal relationship', which i think is necessary (dean loosening grip on sam, them having connections outside of each other) for sam to ever 'get away' from dean/hunting (cause otherwise its just an all-or-nothing choice, more on this in a sec).

i think its less so much about sam successfully getting away in terms of getting dean off his back/to leave him alone (which, dont get me wrong, WOULD be hard, especially as the seasons go on, considering dean cant stand to be alone and has extremely controlling and occasionally stalkerish tendencies <3..... but could still certainly be possible), but about him actually choosing to leave dean/hunting (which for the purposes of this question we r equating).

bc its sort of like..... he takes a lot of Breaks especially during mid seasons (s5 after lucifer's set free (tho iirc this one is dean's doing), s7 after dean kills amy, s8 with amelia tho he thinks deans dead, s9 after gadreel possession is revealed....) but he always always comes back. of course s8 is dean Literally Dragging sam back into it (<3) and also just shaking everything up by being generally Alive, but s7 and 9, its cause dean has done something awful thats genuinely shook sam up, and in the end he just... gets over it. cuz what is the alternative? dean doesnt change and rarely apologises!

like its the fact that of course he wants a relationship with dean because deans the closest person in his life and everything to him, but having a relationship with dean equals their intense codependent unhealthy bond, equals dealing with dean's disregard of his autonomy and ignoring it (read: letting it wear him down). dean's all or nothing. they cant just be 'normal brothers'. and i find it extremely hard to see sam ever actually longterm choosing 'no dean' over 'dean who loves him more than anything and will always do anything for him but systematically wears down his personhood and punishes him for percieved disobedience and thinks he's the one who gets to make choices about sam's life'. like he would have to have a bunch of connections outside of dean, they probably both would, and that would never really happen partially because of dean. they can never let anyone else get on their level. like u said. lack of support system!

and its like... what could dean Actually do that would make sam 'cut him off'/distance himself permanently. i literally and truly cannot think of anything. sam canonically has an INCREDIBLE capacity for forgiveness, just in general - where's that jared quote about how sam forgives everyone cause he sees himself as someone so in need of forgiveness - and this even more so applies to dean. dean locks sam up and leaves him to die, kills his friend, tricks sam into letting an angel possess him, and tries to kill him, and none of that makes sam leave dean permanently, not just because dean makes it physically difficult for him to (tho he does - insisting they work together in s7 on the case, going off to get mark of cain in s9) but also cause sam just eventually forgives him and moves on. is it 'capacity for forgiveness' or is it that he doesnt really view bad things that happen to him as a big deal, that (thru s5-esque emotional abuse techniques <3) deans subconsciously gotten him questioning his own reality and opinions so deeply that it just takes time before sam's agreeing with dean again. makes you think!

but tbf (and this is a digression but i just find it interesting) this probably goes both ways too - what could sam actually do to make dean leave him permanently? even when deans incredibly angry at sam he usually wants him around to berate about it <3. exceptions being start of s10 when hes a demon but even demon dean soon switches to sam-obsession.... and s5. which i know according to endverse Wouldve been a permanent split up? which is kind of wild? and canonises that that Couldve Happened i guess. samgirls should do more with endverse, id kill to see an actually good samcentric fic of like. the events leading to endverse. if anyones read any pls pls recs. ANYWAY. theres also ofc s2 meg possession, where dean just fully thinks sam killed people and is like <3 okay baby brothers lets pretend this never happened we got this do u need me to bury a body <3. truly a ride or die. unless ur actively going against Him specifically. things to think about. tell me ur takes.

and anyway then s11 onwards he is NOT getting out. not unless someone really managed to get it into his head Hey So Pro Tip This Is Fucked. sam acquiesces to dean-as-dictator, having literally Let Dean (be about to) Kill him, dean (newly cured from moc) is consequently much more pleased with sam and with their relationship, they fight much less and theres therefore much less prominent emotional abuse etc since dean is at his worst when hes upset. (iirc. late seasons are a blur except for jack stuff.). and by s13 he has a son and maybe if this happened seasons ago dean's treatment of jack would've been enough to prompt at least a temporary split up but it doesnt, it just sparks a few vague arguments between samndean and sam telling jack that dean is trying <3 and that its very difficult for him <3 which is why he told you hed kill you <3 thats just what dean is like you have to get over it at some point <3 (I LOVE S13). so then yeah. too late.

TLDR... he is too indocrinated <3. sad!

#this is literally like a thousand words. im sorry. if you read all this you get a cookie and a medal.#spn #asks #oliver talks #lmk ur thoughts everyone

33 notes · View notes

alchemillalost · 3 months ago

Text

The Season 8 Destiel Meta Post Nobody Asked For (and why I think the writers had a Destiel endgame option in mind for season 8)

Okay, so here's the long version of this post that almost nobody wanted, but I'm writing it anyway. This is LONG. I'm sorry. And I want to start with it seems like s8 is polarizing, but I rather liked it, and I think it's because I live in the (delusion?) truth of this theory. Stay with me if you want to Believe too. I think Season 8 was written with two possible outcomes in mind; and with an endgame Destiel being the more likely of the two that the writers anticipated. Sounds insane, I am aware. You will need to stick with me here and extend some trust, but I promise I can show my work.

We need to set the scene: It's 2012. We are launching headfirst into the height years of tumblr fan culture. Gangnam Style grips the nation. Destiel is huge in fanfiction & tumblr land. However, interestingly, we're about two years past show's peak. Already once SPN was slated to end with S5's natural arc conclusion, but it didn't-- it was renewed because it was making the CW money, simple as. They have pushed on into the Sera Gamble era with Seasons 6 and 7, which have their respective flashes of brilliance, but all-in-all generally struggled to find footing in the post-Apocalypse Supernatural verse that was never actually planned for. It's pretty evident that the writing and plotting isn't nearly as tight as S1-5, simply because 1-5 was all mapped out from the get go.

It's been interesting returning to the fandom after a decade, because I'm finding a lot of people now who really liked Season 7. No hate, to each their own, and maybe it was just the circles I was in at the time, but in the moment S7 wasn't received well at all. It felt like they kept inflating the "big bad" to heights that sometimes struggled to get fully fleshed out (which, to be fair, continues to be a writing problem going forward). And while watching S7 in Netflix binge-mode it doesn't feel quite so bad, at the time having a year's worth of your fave TV show where Sam and Dean are systematically and pointlessly stripped of everything that gave the show its signature personality was nothing short of torture (killing Cas, the Impala, torching Bobby's place, killing Bobby), all in the name of more man-pain. All of that punctuated with a lot of filler episodes that felt like more misses than hits, the absolutely insufferable Amy Pond plot, and dick jokes just because the writers thought it was funny.

Everyone's opinions on S6-7 aside, though, Supernatural wasn't landing financially for the CW either. Season 5 aired on Thursday nights, which is a fairly well respected time slot for established and successful shows, but with Season 6 and 7 we see a demotion to Friday night, 9 PM ET. This is basically the kiss of death for a cable TV show. You sent your shows to Friday night to die. The CW was looking to the future with newer shows and the writing was on the walls that this circus was probably wrapping up soon.

However, in true Supernatural fashion, it wouldn't fucking die. Honestly, and I can only speculate here, I imagine such a die-hard and still-growing fanbase coinciding with a huge spike in social media + ease of access to fan spaces with the surge in commonplace smart phones/laptop computers is probably what kept performing CPR on this show.

So along comes season 8. The show is being passed to Jeremy Carver and Ben Edlund as a returning writer to head up the show. Other people have discussed the Sera Gamble era in depth, but what you need to know here, basically, is that the Carver/Edlund mind are ones that a) have not shied away from queer themes and b) are a lot of those Destiel classics. We're talking Ghostfacers, The End, My Bloody Valentine, On the Head of a Pin, The Man Who Would Be King (Carver), and Free to Be You and Me, Point of No Return (Edlund). Essentially, Sera's philosophy tended to be "strip it back to just the Winchester brothers" and Carver & Edlund were generally more open to having the surrounding cast of supporting characters. And these two definitely don't shy away from Dean & Castiel's relationship.

Here is where my theory gets a little speculative: I believe this is the point where where SPN was given one last hail mary by the CW. New writers and a Wednesday night slot, you have one more chance to make this work, otherwise you're getting the axe. It was renewed pretty late, in early May of 2012 (compare to S6 being announced Feb 2010). S7 had barely scraped its renewal in late April the year prior, too.

Okay, so let's put ourselves in that position for a moment as showrunners sitting down in the Supernatural writer's room in May of 2012. There are two things that might happen: 1) you just might pull it off, and you do such a good job you pull the show from the proverbial grave or 2) you don't pull it off, and you need to make sure the show ends on a satisfying note that wraps things up neatly. And you need to write and film a season that, until you get the yes or no from the CW, can do either and both or neither, and you may need to pivot in one direction or the other pretty quickly while you're filming the back half of your season.

Enter the Destiel endgame theory, which I believe was their scenario 2. Time to introduce the exhibits from the season.

General: Flashbacks. I wish they'd explored Purgatory more too, but it would've taken up too much time if they might have to fast-track a series finale later. (Also Amelia should've been all made up in Sam's head to cope with losing Dean but again, different post. Maybe it became a time constraint to explore too much too, if they thought the show might be ending.)

The evidence:

8x01 We Need to Talk About Kevin & 8x02 - & What's Up Tiger Mommy? We get flashbacks of Dean tearing Purgatory apart to find Castiel. When he finds him, he makes it clear he's coming back to Earth with him.

8x03 - Heartache- This episode focuses on the love between an immortal being and a human.

8x05 - Blood Brother - Benny/Queer Dean discourse deserves its own post. You can take or leave this one for this post's theory.

8x07 - A Little Slice of Kevin - 1) Dean is clearly hiding a boner when Cas gets out of the shower? 2) We introduce that Dean is deeply upset that Castiel didn't make it through the portal-- to the degree he's faked an entire memory because he'd rather it be his fault Cas is gone than have been abandoned by him

8x08 - Hunteri Heroici - Castiel wants to join Dean as a hunter; we're beginning to establish Castiel's genuine desire to spend his life with the Winchesters. This is then juxtaposed when Naomi forces him to stay away at the end of the episode, further telling us this is Cas' desire vs. Heaven's.

8x11 - Larp and the Real Girl - This is mostly a fun episode, but it's an example of queerness being gently nudged to the forefront of plots without immediate dismissal or being the butt of a joke-- rare for SPN at the time.

8x13 - Everybody Hates Hitler - Ah, the Aaron "He was my Gay Thing" moment. Dean leans all the way into the flirting. Does not give the "don't swing that way" speech, gets flustered, is at a loss for words. He appears disappointed later when he was wrong. This has little precedent on the show when Dean's been perceived as gay, he usually dismisses it very quickly.

February 11, 2013: Supernatural is renewed for season 9, a week after Everybody Hates Hitler airs.

Per these estimates, 8x18 is the next episode to be filmed post-announcement, beginning 2/12.

8x16 - Remember the Titans - A Forbidden Love plot. You can take or leave this one for this theory.

8x17 - Goodbye Stranger - OK, here is our inflection point for editing, in my opinion. The last month of eps, more or less, have been pretty trials-centric or one-off. This episode airs 3/20/2013. At this point, we know we're getting a season 9, but we've been building with all of the above, and this ep was filmed pre-S9 announcement... so much so that we have an "I love you" in the original script for the infamous crypt scene. I fully believe it was filmed and edited out in post.

Second, Castiel turns the walls of Naomi's office/lobotomy lounge the bi pride colors during the crypt scene. Someone on the crew at Supernatural literally tweeted that morning to be on the lookout for special choices in Naomi's office. It was very intentional. Why else pick these colors and declare they're intentional? (I have searched up and down for this tweet but it was rare i was there i remember it [the tweet] all too well please trust me)

UPDATE: Tumblr hive mind found it and it was Jerry Wanek saying they were… crosses? In the intersecting lines in the windows? (that's how lines work? lol) And it was amidst a spell of saying fans were reaching in their analyses, and though some of his replies have that tinge, it's not direct about the color commentary. I never saw the back half of that saga or forgot about it, didn’t mean to misrepresent anything! Either way I’ve been corrected but that office is still bisexual and you can’t tell me otherwise

And don't get me started on the "unicorn" stuff, that one person you'd throw everything away for (but I understand this can be interpreted in many ways) However, the season is renewed, we've picked the path they never thought they'd actually pull off-- now we've got to backpedal this Destiel just enough to not impact our precious CW bottom lines, but not piss off our faction of fangirls who watch to ship.

8x20 - Pac Man Fever - Charlie tells Dean she thinks Castiel seems "dreamy". Charlie is very gay and would only say this to elicit a reaction from Dean, we don't really get much of one. Again, lack of a "speech" on his sexuality.

*Note 8x18 Freaks & Geeks and 8x20 Pac Man Fever are filler eps, I think they could've been pulled if we needed the extra time to sprint toward a series finale*

8x21 - The Great Escapist - 8x23 Sacrifice- We hit a real fast escalation toward the season finale from here. I actually think this overarching plot was more or less always the idea for the ending, but how exactly it was executed depended on the renewal status.

The Alternate Series Finale Ending (That I believe they thought they'd have to do when they wrote it): If they hadn't gotten renewed, we are set up for Sam to close the gates of Hell and Metatron to use a spell to close Heaven using the heart of a nephilim (product of human + angel love), the bow a cupid (an angel that arranges love in humans), and the grace of an angel in love with a human. Hell and Heaven shutter up, Sam dies, and Dean is left with a human Castiel who has, for the better part of the season, already been "testing out" being a hunter alongside Dean and has literally moved heaven and earth to have this. He will not have to be the immortal doomed to love a human, as in 8x03, or have the forbidden love of 8x16; we receive resolution on those subjects for our heroes that the monster-of-the-week characters did not. They resolve their feelings for each other, because if we kept Dean's crypt "I love you" and we establish Castiel's grace was in love with a human... well, what else is there to say? (Oh, yes, and they did exactly this and pulled the Destiel trigger in S15 when it was all ending.)

The Actual Ending (That I think they got surprised about the renewal and had to do): Backpedal. Edit. Only drop little subtext again. We just need Castiel's Regular Grace TM for this spell. We can keep selling merch and con tickets and get views if we appeal to the widest audience possible, and we're not taking risks now that we've performed a literal miracle rescue from a Friday night 9 PM slot.

And once we start Season 9, we get a LOT of being hit over the head with Castiel & Dean's Heterosexuality TM, so much so it's awkward and even out of character. (Human Cas sighing about boobs in early s9? Like please. Get real.) It's a HARD left turn, but it makes more sense if you consider it all in the context above. I just don't think they'd have gone in so hard on the bullet points I listed if they had thought Season 9 was in the bag.

TL;DR: I think we might've had Destiel in 2013, but if we had, we wouldn't have also had the rest of the seasons. Whether or not that's a good thing is up to you, but I think it was a combination of a lot of external factors, capitalism, and, well, it being 2013, sadly. I think they were cowards about it, but at the same time, even the writers probably weren't pulling every string, they also needed to answer to other agendas. Television is a medium that is rife with the push and pulls of a thousand factors that aren't the pure story. Idk how to really wrap this, but this has been over ten years in the making so enjoy the fruits of my brain rot.

#spn #spn meta #supernatural #destiel #destiel meta #you asked #do you regret it #i spent two hours on this

51 notes · View notes