#because classic had always been the one to soften fell from how tense his world had made him

[wr-n]

GOD i love dustard,,,,, GOD,,,,, yeah,,, yeag,,,,

they're just,,, SO GOOD i cant even,,,,

[wearywinchester]

Stubborn

Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Even though you’re just as stubborn as Dean, you can never stay mad at each other.

Word Count: 3.8k

Requested by @flamencodiva: “You did what?”

Warnings: injury, blood, little bit of arguing, fluff, kissing

Dean Winchester

Fiercely protective of those he loves without a second thought on the matter. In fact, you’re starting to think there wasn’t a thing he wouldn’t do to keep you safe, you knew there wasn’t. He’d go to the very ends of the earth if it meant you’d be okay, if it meant you were safe. He’d stop at nothing to keep it that way no matter what that meant for his fate. He was selfless and you knew that to be true for as long as you can remember.

With such traits came with the stubbornness should you try and do the same, came with hard stares and furrowed brows. It brought with it his reluctance to let you stray too far on a hunt; if he had it his way, you wouldn’t tag along on hunts at all. But Dean Winchester met his match when it came to you. Equally as stubborn, casting him the same narrowed stares and furrowed brows, the same determination to look out for him just as much as he did you.

It brought on a great deal of huffs and puffs, and that certainly hadn’t changed now.

When he’d caught sight of the fact that you’d been injured on a hunt he didn’t even want you on in the first place, he didn’t take too well to that. Not that you were expecting him to, nor would he ever. You had dreaded the very moment when he’d see the scarlet smeared across your cheek, knew for a fact that he’d be anything but thrilled to see you hurt no matter what it was. And you were right.

He’d pushed himself off the Impala, releasing his lip from between his teeth where he’d been biting it out of nervous habit. He came to you the moment he saw the cut grazing your cheek and the way you held your side cautiously, your face twisted partly in discomfort and partly to brace yourself for what was to come next. But he came to you immediately— always did and he always would. Yet the words that came to follow, the attitude, that was always something you could count on with all the certainty in the world. It was Dean.

The very first thing that came out of his mouth was a question of if you were okay, that was on the forefront of his mind as he’d made his way to you and Sam with quick strides. He was careful when he peeled back the bottom of your shirt, patchy blotches of crimson just barely staining through the soft cotton material to reveal a less than ideal scratch. Not deep enough to need stitches but enough for him to tense his jaw with worry. When his eyes fell on you, brow raised in anticipation of an answer, you had simply nodded in return.

“That was really stupid,” he muttered once he knew full well you’d be okay.

You rolled your eyes.

“‘M fine, Dean.”

“You’re bleeding, Y/n. And it could’ve been way worse than that, you know,” he said, voice raising a bit more than it was.

“Well it’s not,” you counter, narrowing your eyes only briefly before the action had pulled at the cut on your cheek that you’d seemed to have forgotten. Your wince, no matter how subtle, had only proved his point and only made you angrier.

“I told you to stay back on this one.”

“Well, I didn’t!”

“If you’re gonna fight with me, sweetheart, at least change up your comebacks.”

“I’ll do what I want,” you say, looking away from him only briefly to gather yourself, a huff puffing out from your nose.

You’ll do what you want.

That was the problem. You always did what you wanted, when you wanted to. It was something he loved about you more than he’d admit because it only brought with it fear. He admired your independence, your ability to handle things yourself, your stubbornness when someone tries to stop you from doing anything but that. He loved it and he hated it because he knew it all too well. It was reckless and dangerous to go off and do that on your own the way you did.

“I’ll be fine till we make it back to Bobby’s. I can patch myself up there,” you mumble, voice softer than moments ago.

He bit his tongue then, jaw tense and eyes narrowed down at you to meet an equally frustrated stare. As much as he loved how stubborn you were, as much as he admired your ability to hold your own and refuse to back down—those qualities about you had been working against him in that moment, had been pushing his buttons because now was not the time to be so stubborn.

You were hurt.

He wanted to tell you just how upset it made him that you’d gotten hurt, how guilty it made him feel that it happened on his watch because he felt it was his responsibility to protect you. He always felt that way even when he’d just been your best friend who was too oblivious to see you were the love of his life. He wanted to tell you how angry it’d made him that you went ahead and tagged along on that hunt even when he told you not to get involved. But there was no stopping you—you did what you wanted whenever you wanted and that’s one of the things he loved about you.

Though in that very moment he wished you would have listened just that once.

Even with everything running through his mind in a heap of worry and frustration, he’d left it at a tense jaw and a hard gaze but that had only lasted all of ten seconds with the way you looked at him. The argument that had been sitting on his tongue, ready to be spoken in harsh words and loud tones had melted away.

He was ready to tell you just how ridiculous you were to not let him patch you up right then and there, for thinking he’d let you do it yourself. But he didn’t. Instead, he purses his lips and clears his throat, offering a barely there not before moving around you to get in the car. He knew full well he wouldn’t let you tend to your own wounds, he would never let you do that no matter how angry he might be. But he decided not to say any more until you got back, didn’t want to argue any more than you already did.

That was where he left it the entirety of the drive back. No classic rock playing on the radio for a good while until Sam had decided the tension was far too unbearable for things to be absolutely silent. It was spent with you sulking in the backseat, your brows furrowed and the inside of your cheek between your teeth in your attempt to will away angry tears and stave off how much you wanted to give into the fact that your wounds hurt a little more than you let on.

His knuckles were white with how he’d gripped the wheel, his gaze flickering from the road ahead to the rear view in a constant pattern of glances just to see if you’re okay. And each and every time he laid eyes on your frown, at the crease between your brows all telling of your emotions— it made his stomach twist and churn.

When you got back to the house you were quick to try and disappear off to the bathroom, entering the house first as you rushed past a confused Bobby Singer without a greeting, Dean hot on your heels with just as much determination leaving the man to be doubly confused at the sight. It’s when he turns to Sam that he gets a little bit of an answer, the younger Winchester offering a shrug and an awkward smile at the ever present tension in the air.

“Will you slow down?” Dean asks when you pull the first aid kit from under that bathroom sink. You’re moments away from closing the door when he beats you to it, hand wrapping around the edge of the wood and boot stepping in the way of its closing. “I’m patching you up.”

“I can do it myself.”

“I wasn’t asking.”

Your gaze shifts to him and your jaw tenses at his insistent tone, he’s got a stare to rival yours and you knew there was no changing his mind on this no matter how tough you made yourself out to be.

“De,” you exhale, your initial anger beginning to fade some but just that. “Fine.”

With a huff and an eye roll you hop up on the counter, the smile on his lips less than sincere and more so that of a teasing act in favor of getting his way before a softer look falls over his expression. One that was still a ready display of his anger but not enough for you to think that he hadn’t cared, that he wasn’t clouded with worry.

That was one thing he was terrible at—hiding his emotions. He could bite back his words and stuff them down, bottle them up for a good long while. He could leave them there to simmer in the back of his mind with the help of some beer and whiskey until it all eventually boiled over in a show of anger and frustration. But he was bad at hiding the very emotions he felt.

You could see it with the way the crease between his eyebrows hadn’t left since you insisted on going on that hunt. You could see it with the way the tension remained in his jaw, intensifying each and every time he saw the scratch on your cheek or the ruby stains on your shirt. His lips will purse till those dimples show in the corners of his mouth, and his grip will tighten on anything he touches. Dean Winchester was a terrible actor.

He sifted through the old plastic kit, pulling the peroxide from the cabinet as he grabbed more than enough cotton pads and a few too many bandages from their rightful spots. He laid everything out on the counter, soaking a pad in the clear liquid before his gaze returned to you.

“This’ll hurt a little,” he mumbled, his other hand settling on your cheek.

“Can’t hurt more than this.”

He wasn’t happy with your words, that much was obvious, the look on his face telling you just how much before his expression softened. He brushed the material over the wound, the sting you knew all too well burning atop the fresh scratch as the peroxide bubbled over the irritated area. You moved back from him only slightly, his hand on your cheek keeping you from straying too far. He was patient, though, angry with the fact that you were hurt to begin with but patient.

“He really got you good,” he murmurs, gentle as he continues to wipe away the blotches of crimson sitting smeared around the mark adorning your cheek. You could hear the frustration in his voice despite the softness of his words, the pad of his thumb swiping lightly over your skin.

“I’m fine, Dean,” you say, less defensive than the last time you’d said it but it hadn’t comforted him in that moment.

“Would you cool it with the tough guy act, sweetheart?” He huffs, dropping his hand from your face and tossing the dirtied cotton pad in the trash.

A few moments passed before he sighed, focusing his attention on opening a bandage to let his anger simmer down some more. He crinkled the wrapper in his hand and tossed it in the small garbage can, his eyes moving back to you. You give him a half smile then, the corner of your mouth quirking up only slightly as you breathe out a sigh of your own through your nose.

The simple action seemed to cool him off as his shoulders relaxed a fraction, and you even caught a glimpse of a hint of a smile. One that faded just as quickly as it’d come as he pressed the small bandage over your cheek. You rest your hand over his, the action stilling the thoughts that had been swirling around in his mind for a few moments. It was then that he looked at you again, the close proximity having given you a flurry of butterflies in your stomach as if you hadn’t already kissed the Winchester a thousand times over. But you were sure that was a feeling that would never go away.

You smile then, one he sees immediately as he flashes you an inquiring look with a simple raise of his eyebrow.

“You’re cute when you’re angry, you know,” you say, paired with a tilted of your head and your smile widening, hand squeezing his.

You barely got the words out before he rolled his eyes, turning his head away from you in favor of hiding his half smile, an effort that hadn’t worked quite as well as he’d hoped but he tried his best anyway. He even shook his head in an attempt to stave it off, running a hand over his face.

“You’re a pain, sweetheart.”

“I know.”

He gave in and smiled then, head still shaking as he moved onto the scratch across your hip. He was just as gentle as the first time he peeled back your shirt, revealing a similar situation as the one he’d just tended to and he heaved another sigh that was more than telling of just how he’d felt about it. If it was possible, you were quite sure that steam would be coming out of his ears in that very moment, his fingers brushing over the sensitive skin around the scratch as he huffed through flared nostrils.

“I’m okay, Dean, it’s okay,” you remind him, trying your best to make him realize that though you know he won’t.

“It’s not, Y/n. Quit sayin’ that,” he grumbles, “it could’ve been worse out there.”

“You said that already,” you sigh, and he’s not amused but he refuses to admit the way he feels the slightest bit better at the nonchalance of your attitude. It calms him and stresses him all the same to be perfectly honest, but he’ll keep the former a secret for the time being.

“Yeah yeah,” he mumbles quietly.

He says nothing more as he works, gentle as ever as he cleans everything the best he can. You said you were okay but he notices each time you tense up, can see when you clench your fist or suck in a sharp breath no matter how hard you try and hide it. But a simple soft glance your way, a gentle swipe of his thumb over your skin was enough to make it all the more better each of those times.

After another minute or two passes things become more bearable than they had been, and you were beginning to become less focused on the pain that ebbed away and more on the man tending to your wounds. He’s got more than enough attitude for one person, quick wit and sarcasm falling from his lips even in the scariest of moments. His words could be venomous to those he’s not too wild about, but he can also be one of the sweetest people you’ve ever known all the same.

You couldn’t help the smile trying so desperately to show, one he’d noticed the moment he pulled his gaze to you.

“What?” He asked curiously before looking down once more.

“Nothing,” you say, spotting a small grin forming as he shook his head. It was not nothing and he knew it.

But that smile soon came back to tug at the corners of your mouth, a soft laugh falling past your lips that you knew you couldn’t help even if you had tried to. You were done stifling it at this point.

“Remember that time I baited that werewolf?” You ask, biting the inside of your cheek once more in an effort to stifle your smile.

He paused what he was doing, gaze lifting to meet yours as the crease between his brows deepened at the mere thought of it. His palms rested on either side of you atop the counter for a moment, lips pursed. “You mean that ridiculously stupid thing you did on that hunt? How could I forget.”

You give up on fighting your widening smile completely now, huffing out another soft laugh instead as you shook your head at his grumpy words. “I did it to save you, you know.” He laughs softly, a bittersweet one at that. “I did it today too.”

He barely finished bandaging your hip when his stare returned to you, narrowed with bits of anger seeping in more and more with each passing second.

“You did what?”

You give him a knowing look, one he’s come to know all too well. He wanted to be in disbelief, wanted to think you wouldn’t put yourself in danger just for the sake of saving him. He didn’t feel he was worth it, not enough for you to wind up with even so much as a scratch as a result. But all you do is shrug, you shrug and you give him that smile that makes him weak in the knees every time you grace him with it. That smile that makes even his angriest moments melt away in a single second. That smile that’s getting him to soften his frown and lighten the heaviness of his glare just by the simple sweetness of it even if he wanted to hold onto that anger so you know just how much he disagreed with what you did. But he couldn’t help it.

“You don’t need to save me sweetheart, trust me you don’t,” he says, averting his gaze as he busies himself with packing up the first aid kit just as it was before.

“You’re not always the quick witted hunter you make yourself out to be, you know. Somebody’s got to do it,” you counter, your tone nothing but light and teasing as your words grab his attention just as quickly as ever.

“Very funny. I meant what I said,” he grumbles, fidgeting with the bandage on your hip before picking at the loose string dangling from the hem of your shirt.

“So did I,” you say, head tilted and smile bright as you brushed the hair away that stuck to his forehead.

“Yeah, you’re a pain.”

You puff out a sigh as your smile stays, more sincere than the teasing grin you once held mere seconds ago. The grumpy look on his face became more amused, unable to stay too angry when you keep looking at him the way you do. The way you always do and he always knows just how soft it makes him, because if there’s anyone in this world that can make him feel butterflies of all things, that can even slightly sway him with even so much as a glance in his direction—it’s you. It’s always you.

You couldn’t stay mad at each other for very long.

You reached up and pressed your hand to his jaw softly, the more than obvious tension in it melting away under your touch. Those little dimples by the very corners of his lips were still very much there, though his humor was still shining through all the same. You could see each and every freckle that dotted along his nose and cheeks at this proximity, could see the ones that were hidden by his lashes and the ones that splayed all the way over to his ears. Each one was a different size and each one even cuter than the last, all complimented by the pale pink shade in his cheeks from the anger that once had him so burned up that day.

“You’re not the only one that gets to save the ones you love, De,” you say softly, an even softer smile on your lips to go with it.

He sighed at your words, an eye roll soon after as he pulled your hand from his face and held it in his own. You could tell he disagreed with that, you knew he would, because the thought of someone he’d cared about putting their life on the line just for the sake of saving him wasn’t one that sat well with him. Especially when that person is you.

“You keep sayin’ that and I keep hating it,” he murmurs, and you laugh quietly, the action causing the corner of his mouth to quirk up.

“And I’ll keep saying it.”

He laughed then, soft as it puffs warmly against your lips. He knows there’s no convincing you otherwise, there was no changing your mind on the subject just the same as there was no changing his. You were tough as nails and he could argue till he was blue in the face but there was no chance you’d miss an opportunity to protect him just as much as he does you whether he likes it or not. He doesn’t.

He leans in a little closer, so much so his lips brush over yours with each word he speaks in that moment. “You’re stubborn, you know that?”

“I think I know someone who just might be worse than I am,” you say, his hum sounding mere centimeters from your lips as cue to keep talking as if he hadn’t known just who it was you were talking about. “You see, he’s got these pretty green eyes and he’s devilishly handsome,” you start, his smile widening. “But he’s got a mouth on him, like seriously, he just might be one of the most stubborn people I’ve ever—”

“Okay, okay c’mere,” he sighs, amusement woven around his words as he quiets you.

His lips meld with yours and cut the rest of your own words short in favor of your affection, his smile pressing into your lips and lingering there as he makes no effort to stray too far from you. His hands come up to settle on your cheeks again, the pads of his thumbs brushing lightly over your skin in the sweetest of touches as he kisses you once more before his hands fall down your arms to rest over top of your hands.

“Try and be a little more careful, sweetheart?” He asks softly, the tip of his nose bumping against yours. In other words, I love you.

You simply nod, smile sweet as your forehead rests against his. It’s not his ideal answer, because ideally, he didn’t want you in danger at all. Ideally, he’d rather you stay back when it comes to hunts. But he knows you wouldn’t go for that idea, and he knows he’s got to deal with that though he’ll always put up that fight even though he knows he won’t ever win. You’re stubborn and he loves you.

He’s got you.

—

Tags: @flamencodiva @stixnstripesworld @dean-is-sams-apple-pie @elegantbutedgy @humanmistakes

[enbylovebird]

"don't you remember?"

hawks x gn!reader bullet fic.

tw: mentions of injury, memory loss.

(your quirk will be revealed, don't worry!)

the past few days have been... interesting

if a bystander were to narrate what's happened to you, it would be like everything has grinded to a screeching halt

one minute you were finishing up an assignment in a small café near your apartment, and the next, you were waking up in a hospital with a headache threatening to split your skull in half

to you, though, it doesn't feel like that. you can't remember what you were doing prior to being woken up by the harsh white lights of the hospital room.

you just... showed up here.

thankfully, you don't have to sit alone with no one to answer the hundreds of questions that are now knocking against your skull

there's two men at the door of your room. one of them has on what seems to be a white coat and a stethoscope and the other has... crimson wings.

his jacket looks warm and he's wearing headphones around his neck, and from where you're lying, his expression looks forced. forced into what specifically, you can't figure it out. but it's forced.

"um," you barely manage to hum. both men are at your side in a flash, their eyes wide with relief and concern. "where am i? what happened?"

the stethoscope man (doctor, your mind helpfully supplies) mutters something to the wing man (name unknown, your mind helps you again) and jogs out, leaving you upright with the man with wings.

"where is he going?" you ask. god, it feels like someone is taking a crack at your skull every time you speak.

the man with wings seems too overwhelmed to even speak. he's just scanning your face with teary eyes, his shoulders slowly rising to his ears. a watery smile shakes his lips, and you think, for just a second, that he's incredibly pretty.

his eyes are an amber... no, golden color, and they're trained on you and you alone.

you don't know why he's crying, though. over you, no less.

"are you okay?" you ask.

the pretty bird man lets out a shaky chuckle. "am i okay, they ask." he repeats your words. it's not mocking. he seems torn between laughing and crying, but before you can pin down what he's going to do, he grabs your hand and leans forward, resting his head on the bed.

his wings are folded against his back, but you swear you see the feathers individually relax. "you have no idea how fucking worried i was, pretty bird." his voice is muffled by the sheets, but you hear him clearly.

"pretty bird?" you voice your thoughts. if anything, he's the pretty bird here. you don't say that part.

there's a heavy silence before you feel a warmth entering your body. it's coming from where the two of you are connected by your hands. you're not sure how or why, but you feel tears start to build in your eyes as well. you let out a broken sob against your will.

confused and scared, you wrench your hand out of his grip, the two of you now upright and staring at each other with wild and hurt expressions. the pain in your head is threatening to make you black out.

"y/n?" the bird man calls, his feathery eyebrows knit together. "what's--?"

a million questions are running through your head, but only one manages to slip past your lips.

"who's y/n?"

at that moment, the doctor returns with a few nurses. they sort of push the bird man out the way with their doting over you, but you comply. they inject you with something and it makes the headache subside enough for you to relax your shoulders.

it's a crazy few minutes, but once the other doctors leave, it's just you and the two men from before left.

and boy, does he drop some news. (at least you figure by the bird man's reaction. you're just going through the motions here.)

"the villain in the attack had a memory wipe quirk." the bird man recounts easily. "at least that's what the heroes on the scene told me."

"and they were right. that particular person can wipe select memories from people they target. if you're caught in the crossfire though, there's no telling how much you could forget." the doctor looks at you then, his eyes sympathetic. "it would appear that y/n here was caught in that crossfire."

the bird man goes tense. you can see it. "so you're telling me that they--"

the doctor sighs. "y/n?"

you figure that he's talking to you. "is that what my name is? that's a pretty name." you muse. "but um... do you mind explaining who i am and why i'm here?"

you think that your question is innocent and well-placed, but the atmosphere says otherwise. the doctor turns away from you to look at the bird man.

"hawks, i understand that we are sworn to confidentiality with our patients, but i need you to tell me your relation to this person."

the bird man -- now designated as hawks -- looks between you and the doctor before leaning in and whispering the answer. you pout, wanting to know why exactly you couldn't head the answer.

the doctor seems shocked. "really? well, you have my word that no one will know. in any case, y/n here is actually fine. they were just hit with the stray attack. a few cuts because of broken glass, but nothing serious. they can actually go home in a day or two, but you need to take it slow with them. there's no telling what the memories could do to them. that is.. if they remember."

the "if" makes hawks clench his jaw. he looks at you, his expression unreadable. "thanks, doc." he seems to hesitate before sighing. "i'm actually going to go finish up some paperwork, so..." he doesn't take his eyes off you. "i'll be back. promise. see you in two days."

and just like that, you're alone again. you're alone with far more questions than answers.

the next two days are lonely, to say the least.

not all that lonely, you guess. nurses come in and even a hero nurse as well. she explains your quirk -- empathy.

through physical contact, you can feel the emotions of whomever you choose. you can also share what you feel with the person you touch. you suddenly remember when hawks held your hand. you may not have it under control, but at least you know what it is.

the day of your discharge comes, and hawks looks to be dreading this moment. like he's grappling with something. you figure that he's a hero and he must be antsy to get back to work. you offer him a reassuring smile when he shows up.

"if you're worried about me being in pain, trust me, the bandages are nothing, okay?" you try to cheer him up. it clearly doesn't work. he gives you a tight smile.

hawks doesn't say anything the entire way home.

he actually doesn't say much for days. it's mostly just strange looks and clenched jaws. he always avoids touching you.

you two don't live together, but as you spend time at home piecing together your memories, you notice that there's a lot of indication that you have a male partner.

you find big t-shirts and hoodies that personally don't ring a bell, but smell way too familiar. you find shampoo, conditioner and body soap that clearly don't belong to you, and even a jacket that looks a lot like--

after the second week of the silent treatment from hawks, you call him, clearly fed up.

he shows up in no time at all, as you expected. after doing some research, you learn that he's the number two pro hero. he's one of the fastest people in the world if he tries hard enough. him showing up at your apartment within minutes of contacting him wasn't surprising.

"you called?" he says as he lands on your balcony. the first words he's spoken to you since you were discharged. "is everything okay?"

you dump everything you found at his feet. you know you don't talk to any other men, and he's literally the only person you can think of. "what's this?" you ask.

you aren't sure why, but you're rather pissed.

hawks raises a brow at all of his stuff now at his feet. "why are you doing this?" he asks in response. he picks it up with a few feathers and guides everything back to their places. "what're you dumping your stuff on the floor for?"

"it's not my stuff! that's the problem! it's yours!"

you bring a hand to your head. "why are you everywhere? why are you so important to me? why won't you tell me anything?"

hawks just watches as you practically have a meltdown. you start to breathe heavily, but rather than say anything, he just extends a hand. you know what physical contact does, and you just look at him.

"just... touch me, y/n. activate your quirk." he has that serious look in his eye and a sad smile on his face.

you do as he says, and what you feel makes you recoil.

you feel... everything. you feel the late nights, the nausea that kept you up at night as you waited for hawks to come home. you felt the lazy sundays when you two would sing old classics and make breakfast. you felt the christmases you spent together, flying high in the chilly hair. you felt the fights, the kisses, the fleeting touches. you felt the infatuation, the love.

you look at hawks -- no, keigo -- wildly.

"what... what was that?" you ask breathlessly. "keigo, you--"

at the sound of his name, keigo just pulls you close to his chest. his feathers are shaking, and so are his shoulders.

"don't you remember?" he says after a minute. "tell me you remember, songbird. tell me you remember something -- anything."

you do. oh, you do. but it's so much to process.

"we clearly have some catching up to do, huh?" you mutter.

a dry chuckle. "yeah. yeah, we do."

you pull away from keigo, looking him in his now red eyes. ah, there he is, you think. there's the man you fell in love with.

"well, hi." you extend a hand. "my name is y/n. and yours?"

keigo sniffs and gives you a crooked grin. "the name's takami keigo, but you probably know me as hawks." he shakes your hand gently, his grin softening as he sees the way you can clearly feel his emotions. "don't tell anybody that though, please."

"your secret's safe with me, keigo."

[futurewriter2000]

Heartless - pt. 14

A/N: Honestly.... This is the perfect gif for Mulci but yeah, you guys are really tempting me to making this a 50 part serie... 

XX

When Sirius woke up, he woke up alone. He opened his eyes lazily and found the space next to him empty and cold. He looked around for a moment to see whether last night was a dream or reality- somehow it made him believe it was a fragmence of both.

He smiled to the thought of you. You finally let your guard down with him last night. You finally let it happen and-

“...” Sirius found himself staring widely at round hazel eyes at the doorframe, watching him. He swallowed thickly, moving his palms against the sheets and grinning awkwardly. “Morning... Prongy.”

James lifted an eyebrow and let his lips follow. “Mornin.... Paddy.”

“Ho...I mean- khm- how long have you been standing there?”

“Enough to see you smile like a fool in love.” James pushed himself off the door frame and walked to Sirius. He sat on the bed with heavy thoughts on his mind that Sirius could feel on his own shoulders just as James did. James put his elbows on his knees and his hands under his chin, eyes darting somewhere at the distance.

“Look, mate-” Sirius started. “You locked-”

“It’s not about that, mate.” James looked over his shoulder and gave Sirius a genuine simper, sad but sincere. “Or it is... in a way...”

Sirius now sat up, tensing at the tone his best friend was giving to him. James was barely serious, rarely... “What’s on your mind?”

“She is.” he let out a sigh and kept staring at the distance. “That days she was gone... something happened to her and we all bloody know it but she keeps it so hidden. Mum and dad know and we don’t- do you know?” he turned to Sirius in a flash but Sirius quickly shook his head.

“No. She didn’t say anything to me.”

“Dad never yelled at me like that before. I feel like he blames me for it.”

“For what?”

“For making her disappear.”

“It’s not your fault, mate. It’s mine-”

“Maybe it’s both of our fault.”

“Or that... it’s usually that.” Sirius shrugged and scooted next to James, watching his smile appear and then fade.

“I don’t mind the two of you being together, Pads.” James looked at Sirius, smile sincere.

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t mind the two of you being together.” he repeated, smiling softly. “If I could trust anybody with her, I trust you... and the other way around. I know that the two of you would always take care of one another.”

“You’re talking like you’re about to die in the next 3 seconds.” Sirius joked and James let out a laugh.

“No- just... she’s got this thing to do everything by herself and when she’s with you I can see her opening up about things like that. I know she doesn’t trust me enough to tell me about these stuff but with you... with you she won’t go through it alone.”

Sirius let out a chuckle and tapped James on the shoulder. “You really think she doesn’t trust you, mate?” he looked at James as if he expected an answer but not really. “She does trust you, she just wants to protect you. You think Moody was here for a cup of tea? No- she’s in deep and if she’s a Legilimen means that so many bad people want her for her gift.”

“Yeah, what’s about that? Why don’t I have the gift?”

“Seriously, Prongs?”

“Just saying... it can still be a twin thing-”

“Prongs.”

“Or maybe I need to get through trauma to unlock it-”

“James? What?”

“You know- like in the movies.”

“James, just stop speaking and let’s go eat.” Sirius let out a laugh and stood up, stretching his arms above his body.

“I’m just saying- maybe you should hit me in the head.”

“I’m not hitting you in the head.”

“No. Let’s go try it.”

“I can’t believe she thought I was the bad influence on you.”

“I wanna see if it works.”

“You’re not a LEGILIMEN JAMES!”

“WE WON’T KNOW UNTIL WE TRY IT!”

“I’m heading to breakfast.”

“Sirius Black GET BACK HERE AND HIT ME IN THE HEAD!” James ran after Sirius after he heard him laugh down the hall. He laughed as well, stomping down the stairs with a bright smile on his face as James was known for. 

He didn’t like to have serious talks but he had to had this one with him. James loved both of you equally. Both of you represented family to him and if he would want anything in this world, it was that family should stick together. He sees how Sirius looks at you and he notices how you try to hide it- every emotion in your body when he’s near. 

James has felt more than just guilt, rather regret as well for leaving you out in the cold for the past years but if Sirius and you come together, then there will be plenty of chances to getting to know you again- to get you and James back to trusting each other. 

But as soon as James’ smile appeared, as soon as it disappeared. It fell like a rock from it’s cliff, crumbling down into the rocky waters. 

Freezing cold shock ran through his body, a shiver that caused his heart to swallow itself and spit back out. He was looking at two men at the sofa, classical dress code; overalls and a jacket over. The younger was looking at you and the old man was looking at James. Both wore identical, malicious smile. 

“What the hell?” James grumbled through his teeth as he was about to storm over before his father stepped in front of him.

“James.” he warned, facing him his back as his hand secured the guests from his own son. He looked over his shoulder, giving him a look James had never seen before but understood anyway. 

“Is that James?” the old man stood up, walking over with his hands behind his back and his posture straight. His smile was tight, stern and his eyes were blazing into his. Though James did not back down, no matter how those piercing blue eyes scorched him. 

“It is.” said James. 

The old man smiled in amusement, then glanced at Sirius, causing his smile to fade. “And you must be... Black?” he put the emphasis on the last name as if it was spitefully incorrect. It made Sirius look away for a moment but only for a slight second to gather his dignity back and look back at the old man. 

It was too late though. The old man had won the little game and he was not focused on the blood-traitor in front of him but on the more fierce, confidant boy in front of him. 

“I do not know what your bussiness is here, Mulciber but I think it’s best you leave.”

“It’s that how you treat your guests, Potter?” the old man gasped in disbelief but he was pleased by the discomfort he was causing, as well as his son on the sofa, that was staring at you- reading into you. 

Sirius was watching you- both of you and the intense connection between you and younger Mulciber was there. It was as if the two of you had a conversation nobody else could hear. 

You would grit your teeth and clench your jaw as the other’s lips would curl up in a twisted smile. 

The two of you are using Legilimency. The Mulcibers were known for being one of the best and Mulciber, without a doubt in Sirius’ mind, was under Dark Lord’s training. 

Your expression would soften- just like that and the other’s would get serious as well. Something fragile flashed across Mulciber’s eyes and something empathic flashed across yours. 

It was over. You turned away and he turned away. Both of you didn’t look at each other for a while, both of you shocked- surprised maybe? At how far this secret conversation had went- a conversation that made Sirius lose his mind over it. 

“I think we are done here, son.” the old man turned to the young and glanced between the two of you, his lips curling into a smirk. 

Mulciber looked at you with a pleasing smile, mirroring his father’s as you stood there, looking confused at both of them. 

“We are, father.” said Mulciber, looking at you as well. His father walked to you, saw how much this little time with them had drained the life out of you; colourless in your skin, fragile in your eyes... The old man took your hand and squeezed it hard. 

‘ The choice is yours.’ - echoed in your head as his mouth moved slightly differently. “Nice to meet you, Miss (y/n).”

‘You’d take care of them and we’d take care of you. I’d take care of you.’ - said the other and your eyes flashed at the more gentler ones- the ones that were heavy but not as heavy as the old ones. He gave you a smile, softer, sincere and comforting because Legilimency wasn’t just about reading minds. It was about reading feelings and the two of you might as well be standing naked in front of each other. 

There was a connection alright- the one that not only Sirius could see but James as well and he knew that look on you far too well to know that what he had thought before might not come true. 

[marueonmain]

WINDFLOWER

part eleven ~ wank material and how to get canceled ~

(part one) (part two) (part three) (part four) (part five) (part six) (part seven) (part eight) (part nine) (part ten) (part eleven)

A/N: Back at it again. Thank you for 160 followers; do enjoy and take care of yourself! Send a Message/Ask to make my day!

Summary: Alex screws up a lot. 

Pairing: imallexx x reader

Warning: Lots of Language. Implied Domestic Abuse. Heavy Self-Deprecation. 

Word Count: 2.9k    BLUE TEXT = FLASHBACK

It is a small world. Or at least that is how the saying goes. For example: I happened to have dog-walked for a woman who turns out to be your aunt? Huh, small world.

The world is meant to be small, with everyone just six degrees of separation from one another. 

A lot can happen between six degrees – an ice cube melts,  a steak is cooked well done instead of medium,  a person dies of an unexplained fever.

Sometimes Alex’s world did feel small, constrictingly small like it was caving in on him. But more often than not, it was he who felt small and the world a vast sea – an endless horizon. And he was stranded on a raft in the middle of it. Splashing along with the waves, going wherever the wind wished to take him. Wondering if he would ever be found (if anyone was even searching for him) or if he was destined to drown in the deep dark waters. 

Alex shook his head, and he was back in the present moment. Sitting cross-legged on the sofa. Gripping a controller with his clammy hands, playing LEGO Star Wars with George. Although their characters appeared to be working together in perfect sync, Alex was not actually focusing on the screen. His eyes were, but his mind drifted like that raft on the sea, drifted to earlier that morning.

It rained briefly; when the early morning hours came, everything outside smelled of wet, and the scent seeped in through cracks in the sealing around the windows.

Y/N stirred in Alex’s arms, squirmed out of his gentle hold, and sat up. Shining through the glass door of the balcony was the pale blue of the moon illuminating her features – a pastel recolouring which further softened the curves and lines of her face.

Her unadjusted eyes appeared confused at her surroundings as she looked around. Planting her hands flat on the cushion on either side of her lap exposed her bruised forearm. Each circular mark was darker than it had been when she fell asleep. Alex noticed some quarter or half of the beads on her bracelet matched those bruises in colour – he was not sure how to feel about that.

A shy closed-mouth smile took Y/N’s lips as her eyes landed on Alex. If she were concerned about his contemplative somewhat doleful expression, she hid it well. “You’re warm.”

“Yeah?” Alex asked. It was dizzying, swimming in the lovesick haze of such an odd compliment

“Like sleeping on one of those blankets, you have to plug in – softer though.” 

“Probably more lippy as well.”

“I think that’s fair,” her words fizzled out with a giggle.

Pupils dilated in the dim lighting; Alex had never more resembled the pleading puppy eyes emoji. High on that feeling, he got whenever Y/N looked deep into the depths of him. Like the last piece of his puzzling life was being set into place. Like it was them. Always meant to be them. Together.

He just wished he dared to speak more.

“Jump! What are you doing?” George burst out, bringing Alex back for a moment.

“Sorry.” He had felt it all over again – how anxious he was to speak; how dead his tongue was in his mouth. As if every moment with Y/N was it for him. His one shot. And if he did not say the right thing or if his voice wavered, then it would be over for him. Finished.

Or maybe he would not have to speak at all, and he would lose his chance before he even opened his mouth. His big mouth – his friends would add, and in truth, so would he.

George cleared his throat and asked, “Did you remember to message Simon about the party?”

“Yeah, yesterday. And Tobi got back to me, said he’s coming.”

“Would’ve been easier to have done a group message for them.”

Sighing a short but exhausted sounding sigh, Alex agreed, “Maybe.”

“And Sammy’s coming?” George looked over for a split-second to see his flatmate nod his head; a tight smile plastered on his face. “Good.”

Another moment of comfortable calm washed over Alex and Y/N when something in Y/N’s gaze pulled back – became hesitant – and moved down to her hands. She picked up a crumpled deliveroo receipt from off the coffee table and began fidgeting with it. “If you—” 

Y/N stopped as her phone lit up; the notification was silent, but the light of the screen was visible through the pocket of her jeans. While pulling it out, she unmuted it to an eruption of DING. DING. DING. There were a lot of missed calls and texts, enough that she had to scroll twice up to see them all.

All Alex could read from his spot on the sofa (without wanting to appear as if he was reading over Y/N’s shoulder) was a text message in all caps reading ANSWER ME.

Thumbs hovered above the phone, not typing nor even moving to unlock to the home screen. Her back straightened, and her posture tensed. Eyes not leaving the screen, she said, “It’s Sam. I need to go.”

“That’s all Sammy? It’s a tad overkill, don’t you think?”

“No, he’s just worried.” Y/N took to her feet. Stepping around the coffee table, she beelined to where she left her shoes near the front door. “I don’t—I should have been checking in.”

Alex stood and followed. “Is he that upset? Genuinely?”

She flicked her hand dismissively before using it to pull on her shoes. Keeping her eyes down. “Of course not. It’s just frustrating when he can’t reach me is all.”

“Still…it’s a bit much.”

“And what? You’ve never been frustrated like that with someone?”

“No,” his projection of the word a startling thundercrack in the otherwise civil conversation.

It had not been confidence, though. Not real confidence. Alex had been scared, and he did not like being scared nor admitting to being scared, but he had been.  Frightened because he did not know how to handle the situation.  Terrified that he might have been losing himself. 

Liking Y/N made him nervous; made him protective. And he could not control it.

Y/N looked to him, and he would have to have been blind to not see the bewilderment that came to her eyes at his change in tone. Alex was just so sick and tired of allowing himself and his concerns to be played off. Always feeling like he was screaming to be heard, but no one cared to listen.  

He spoke stern and definite, “No. I’ve never been so agitated with someone that I screamed at them for a near hour. It’s not normal. I’ve certainly, never punched through—” 

DING. DING. Before he could finish, Y/N dropped her head to her phone.

Alex sighed, exhausted, and asked, “He’s still going, isn’t he?”

“Like I said,” Y/N looked up, and coming back into the conversation as if nothing happened, reasoned in a gentle – borderline condescending – tone, “he’s worried about me.”

“No, he’s not. If he were worried, wouldn’t he have gone looking for you?”

“How do you know he didn’t?”

“Where else would you have gone, but here? Does he let you have other friends?”

Taking a step from him, Y/N shook her head like she could shake herself awake and out of the situation – like it was a dream. She asked, “Where is this coming from?”

“Am I wrong? Red?” he didn’t mean it to come out overly harsh; it had. Alex’s eyes begged for the slightest amount of understanding.

“I think I should go.” Contradicting the sharpness that came into her words were the tears that sprung to her eyes, building up, daring to fall. Y/N pushed right through Alex (not unlike her previous shoulder-check) towards the front door with a sudden heaviness in her steps. 

Fuck. Think of something. 

She’s leaving think of something. 

Say something.

Anything!

“Are you still coming to the party Saturday?” Not that.

Stopping halfway out the door, Y/N whipped around with annoyance and anger burning in her eyes. “You’re serious? Is that all you care about? Padding your guest list?”

“No,” the whispered words fell graceless from his lips, “I care about you.”

“Don’t.” Y/N looked as if she were a second away from spitting in his face. “It was a mistake coming here. You can’t just say whatever shit you want, whenever you want. I’m sorry if you think I’ve been leading you on, but Sam is my boyfriend, alright? I love him.”

That was it. Alex did not know that would be it. He did not even know he was that close to the fucking edge. But he had been. And that? That was it. He wanted so bad to be a safe space for Y/N and to not start an argument or come off as if he were attacking her, but that was it.

“And does he love you?” Alex asked with a cruel scoff.

“Beg pardon?”

“Did he love you when he gave you that?” He pointed to her forearm – the five circular bruises.

“Fuck you, Alex.” Her lip curled into a snarl. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She left. It was 2:01am.

It lingered in his head – the realization he came to when he was stood in the dark staring at his front door too confused to be shocked and too shocked to process the hurt. He lost; he was a loser. It was not a traditional emotion, but Alex felt it burning within even as he sat on the sofa with George.

Idiot. Since their first meeting, Alex dreamed and needed and worked so hard to be with Y/N, and he lost her. Gambled it all and lost. Useless. Weak. His thoughts took on their own intentions. Beginning to feel foreign as if coming from the outside and no longer sounding like him. 

Spiraling. Alex was spiraling. He did not – could not – understand how he could ruin everything life ever offered, bin the good opportunities, and fail all the people important to him. 

All at once, an intense feeling bubbled up from deep in his gut, perhaps the most classically masculine feeling he ever felt. Alex wanted to fight. Angry. Pained. He wanted nothing more than to scream out his voice and rid himself of the scorching torrent of blood that rushed through him, cauterizing his veins. Alex wanted to fight for Y/N. But he could not do that, could he? Fight. Not physically, at least.

“I need water.” George got up and moved to the kitchen, not knowing that his interruption of Alex’s internal monologue was like him saving the younger from drowning.

A light blush rushed to his cheeks as Alex pulled his head up. He inhaled deep and released it in a controlled exhale. Embarrassed with himself for falling victim to self-deprecation. It had to stop, and it was getting better. Alex just slipped up. He rerouted his focus to think neutral (as positive was a little out of reach), think solutions, think forward. 

Life is not a fiction. Not a page-turning romantic thriller nor bafta-nominated melodrama. He was not a leading man. Y/N was not the Eurydice to his Orpheus. Alex was himself. A regular human – he did not have the liberty of being able to go on an epic quest or save the world to prove himself to her.

He could not win back her comfort in him with a grandiose gesture – even if he wanted to. It had to be words. It had to be realistic actions. Sincere. Genuine. And Alex did not care if it would be difficult or if Y/N was difficult to understand, to please, he would keep trying until she told him to stop.

There was no guarantee Y/N would ever again see him as a safe space. Still, he would do his all because…well because he missed her. Alex had never missed someone like he did Y/N. 

He missed her more than he would miss his own heart if it lept from his chest. He missed her like they had spent their entire existence together up until that moment. He missed holding her close – brushing his fingers over her soft skin. He missed that blissful moment where he got to wake up with her there. 

Most of all, he missed how stable she made him feel. He was more present with her than he had been all his twenty-odd years. When she was with him, Alex lived a lifetime in each individual second.

Y/N made him feel strong for the first time in a long time.  He could not always carry himself, but  he would always, always be there to carry her.  

A minute later, George returned to the room with a water bottle in both hands; without warning, he chucked one towards the sofa. It struck Alex in the chest and landed in his lap before he doubled over. 

“Ow!” he shouted into his knees.

Taking a swig from his bottle, the older sighed and asked, “You alright?”

“No!” Alex popped back up and shouted. “You just hit me with a water bottle, you fucking idiot.”

George dropped his then half-full bottle onto the coffee table and took an extra step toward the sofa but remained standing. Looking down on the younger – something George did not have much experience in – he jabbed his index finger into his flatmate’s temple, pushing his head to the side.

“I meant your head.” He repeated, “You alright?”

“Again, George? We’re doing this again? You’ve never checked up on me this much before. Are you alright, Mr. Authoritarian?” Alex stood up and pushed his chin forward, bringing their faces closer and exaggerating the centimetre or four he had over his flatmate in height.

Shrugging both his shoulder, not flustered in the slightest, George said, “I’ve seen you like this before.”

“Like what?”

“After a break-up, you’re fine and good for a few months, but then you get a crush, and you start doing this to yourself. Fixating and—and fanning all these feelings and hyping yourself up to be disappointed. Now with Red—”

“I don’t want to talk about Red.” Alex snapped and moved to step around the coffee table, uncomfortable with the closeness he created. “For fuck sake, my life doesn’t revolve around the woman.”

“I’m not saying that.” George followed him. “Just that with the health advisements and staying inside, maybe you clung onto the first attractive person you saw in reach. Sammy’s not the type you go for – too muscular or whatever – so it’s Red. You should recognize that it’s not real; it’s nothing to do with her as a person; it’s just your pattern.” His prepared sounding speech came to an end as he placed a hand on Alex’s shoulder.

Disgust glazing over his eyes, Alex dropped his shoulder recoiling from the contact like it might burn him. His voice was not gentle, with the sound of his scowl in each syllable, “You really think I’m that pathetic, huh?”

“In a few days or weeks, it’ll go away, all this, and you will feel like a complete idiot for acting like you are.”

“If you know that it’s not going to last, then why are you being such a prick? Why don’t you let me have a little fun in my,” he raised his hands, putting air quotes on his last word, “delusion?”

“Is that what Red is to you? Entertainment?” George looked disappointed. “That’s not fair—”

“No.” Alex refused, folding his arms. “I was repeating what you were saying.”

It went quiet; a pin could drop, and the sound would reverberate like in an echo chamber. Sweat beaded up on both men’s foreheads. Tensions unfamiliar to their apartment seemed to raise the temperature beyond boiling. Alex hated arguing – hated arguing with George. It was not something that happened almost ever until…Y/N.

In the silence, George closed his eyes, squeezed them shut as he dipped his chin to his chest. He blew out a harsh breath before straightening up and again opening his mouth. “If you do not listen to me. If you do not listen to yourself – that logical bit that isn’t wank material and how to get canceled – you are going to do something you regret. People will get hurt. Sorry I’m such a massive prick, but I know you, Alex. I know you and you’ll be fine; you always are. You’ll laugh off this ridiculous crush like you did when you were done daydreaming about Tom Holland twenty-four-seven those two months straight after Homecoming came out. You’ll be fine, but Sammy and Red might not be. I don’t want you starting a fight you’re not able to finish.”

Despite standing still with firm feet, Alex backed off. He could not keep holding on in the intense staredown, and he looked away. Folded arms dropped. There would be no response from him, not to that.

“You not saying anything proves my point.” George finished though he was not triumphant sounding. He spoke like something was blocking his throat, “You know what you’ve been doing is wrong, and you know I’m right.”

Taglist: (message to join!) @angelbabyivy​ @eboysimp​​ @trhtshonf @jaythegay92

[beevean]

3 years of Sonic Forces, the biggest love-hate relationship of the series

[note: this is the translation of @latin-dr-robotnik​’s article]

Today is an almost special day, today it’s the anniversary of a rather peculiar game in this series.

On this day 3 years ago, the (to this day) newest game of Sonic Team was released: Sonic Forces. After waiting a year and a half since its announcement (and four years since Sonic Lost World’s release), it was finally time to see what the last chapter of the main series had in store for us, and the results were… okay.

There were so many warning signs in the months before the release: a marketing campaign that was noticeably absent until the very last month, opting to focus more on Mania (let’s not forget that we still get videos about Mania even after the game’s release, not so much about Forces), which added to the uncertainty caused by the footage already available at the time, which ended up being confirmed a few days before the release, when some people managed to get the game early and streamed a good chunk of the game. While one of the leakers was just a bad player, the quality of the game itself was put into question…

A harsh reality

I’m not going to soften up my words here: for being the latest Sonic game, in a post-Generations and post-Boom era, Sonic Forces fell short of everything it tried to do (if it tried). Anything positive comes from the roots of something negative, and in the context of this anniversary, after 3 years without knowing a thing about the next game, it only emphasizes the frustration and the disappointment it caused.

Sonic Forces promised a world devastated by Eggman, an epic battle to save the world and win against a powerful enemy. However, of so many promises, not even the first one, the most basic one, was kept: it was an empty takeover, explained poorly (because they didn’t even show it, they told it through text) and developed even worse. All the potential of such an exciting world was thrown away as soon as the game didn’t even try to explain some of its most important questions (like why Green Hill was in the process of desertification); to this day we still don’t know what the fuck does the Phantom Ruby do, in Mania it has some powers, in Forces it has different powers, and it’s not clear where does it come from or if it’s more powerful than the Chaos Emeralds. It is disappointing to not be able to discover all this untapped potential, and it is so disappointing that one of the oldest works on my blog was an attempt to rewrite the beginning of the game, give it more context and a better footing to start the adventure.

This old leak dates back to 2016, when the game was barely announced, and surprisingly it ended up being real, very very real. Even the title “Sonic Wars” is true, and if you don’t believe me you can open the game’s folder and read the names that appear. Source.

The confusion and disappointment don’t end here. If you have read the mess of opinions and emotions that is my analysis of the game [translator’s note: the link is in Spanish], you may have noticed that one of the biggest questions never answered was, what’s up with the order of the levels and why is it so confusing? Between 2016 and 2017, there were some leaks and statements going around places like Sonic Stadium that confirmed that the game went through numerous changes, not just in the plot, but in the levels as well. Right now I can’t find these old posts (I’m surprised that the fandom didn’t archive them), but it was said that the original idea for Forces, then still called Sonic Wars, was to shine the spotlight even more on the Avatar, or Buddy as it was called; the decision was unanimously rejected by SEGA of America and Europe, forcing SEGA of Japan to order that the game was modified. In fact, I remember that the leak that mentioned this meeting between the SEGA branches was rather bad, with a very tense atmosphere and lots of disagreements.

This is the closest thing to a confirmation of the scrapped plot that I could find. At least it’s proof that I’m not crazy and that Forces was indeed more focused on the Avatar. Source.

The mess that is the order of the levels, the questionable presence of characters like Classic Sonic, and some of the details of one of the leaked scrapped scripts such as that apparently they considered to reintroduce Mephiles – all of this shapes the network of a mediocre game, created under the premise of “from the creators of Sonic Colors and Sonic Generations” but taking all the wrong parts of those two games, using an engine that has been proven to be less efficient than Unleashed’s and Generations (and I’m not talking about the Hedgehog Engine, which is the graphical engine – I’m talking about the game and physics engine of Lost World), and with short levels and… polarizing bosses, to say the least.

The result is a game that shows a lot of potential, but in practice it doesn’t live up to it at all, be it for its own limitations (being rushed like hell) or for a noticeable lack of attention to details; it didn’t succeed in creating a cohesive and coherent world, with levels that could be worthy of what has been learned in these years. This is the reality of Sonic Forces.

And yet...

Despite everything I’ve just said, despite all the unacceptable errors that Forces made, and despite all the terribly wasted potential… we still talk about this game.

There are many reasons. On one hand, Forces and Mania have been the latest Sonic games for 3 years now, which is tragic in on itself (Team Sonic Racing disappeared from the face of the Earth); on the other, we still talk about Forces because there is something that still attracts us to it.

It’s not the same attraction we feel for Sonic ‘06, though. Forces is not a complete, almost-franchise-killing disaster like ‘06 was, it’s not a giant meme that spread from the fandom to popular circles and internet figures such as the Game Grumps. People have been trying to fix Forces’ mistakes, but not on the same scale as projects that tries to completely recreate ‘06 with a radically different engine, or fix each and every bug in the original version. Forces is nowhere near as infamous, and so the discussion goes in different directions.

Episode Shadow is still one of the most entertaining parts of the game, and one of the most important as well, as Shadow himself hadn’t been a playable character since… well, Sonic ‘06.

On one hand, there is a cult surrounding Infinite, one that I personally don’t agree with, and I don’t know if it’s bigger than Mephiles’ 15 years ago, but I do know that it exists and it’s still present. One of the ways Sonic Team tried to “go back to its roots” was to introduce a character like Infinite in a plot that was supposed to be “more serious”. Final results notwithstanding, Infinite managed to win the heart of a sizeable portion of the fandom, which still wishes for his return and development.

On the other hand, there is the Avatar, our personal OC with an impressive customization system, which allows us complete freedom, to the point that we could recreate characters introduced in Sonic IDW like Whisper the Wolf. What at first looked like a questionable idea, nothing more than a source of memes, ended up becoming the smartest idea Forces had, with a gameplay style that, in my opinion, retains a little of the old Adventure spirit, and even had some of the most fun levels in the game. While Classic Sonic ruined one third of the game, and Sonic was somewhat mediocre compared to his past feats, the Avatar’s gameplay style manages to keep its quality throughout the game, despite the fact that the plot keeps revolving around their presence instead of focusing on the other aspects of saving the world, which is... well, a little unfortunate.

Even I, who I’m not really into Sonic OCs, had a lot of fun recreating some of the characters.

And finally we get to the best part of the entire game: the music.

Even after three years my opinions haven’t changed much. Forces’ music isn’t perfect, it has its low moments (I feel like I’m the only one who doesn’t like Light of Hope) and some disasters (F*ded H*lls lol), but overall it has good intentions and it has some pretty good highlights.

The use of synths, as overdone and criticized as it is, was an honest attempt to follow a trend present in older games, like Sonic Unleashed, where this instrument symbolized Eggman’s influence. An interesting touch that, while wasn’t completely successful, is appreciated.

I still say that Fighting Onward is one of the best themes of the entire game, and Spaceport as the level benefits from having it.

Then there’s the best part of the entire soundtrack: the return of vocal themes, such as the main theme, the villain theme, and some of the level themes. I cannot explain with enough words how much fans were waiting for this, and it was brilliantly handled by the advertising campaign: a preview of the instrumental version of Fist Bump, a short peek of the Avatar themes, and finally the reveal of some of the major themes. It’s not surprising that it became one of the most appreciated parts by the fans. From the iconic intro of Fading World to the subtle nod to Green Hill in Set In Motion, every theme has something that makes it stand out from the rest of the game.

But even so, the rest of the music in the game has redeemable points as well. Forces in general distances itself from the music styles previously used in the series, especially from the variety of incredible sounds of Unleashed or even Lost World; but from time to time it still recognizably Sonic, like in the half-Megaman, half-Runners Network Terminal, in the extremely epic and underrated Last Judgement, or in the always-mentioned Ghost Town (not the only “good” Classic theme in my opinion, but the first one that comes to mind). Even the remixed Zavok theme sound better in Forces than in its original version.

A love-hate relationship

At the end of the day, the only thing left I could say is that Forces is still one of the most polarizing games in the series. 3 years aren’t enough to heal some of the wounds left by the 4-year hiatus, plus the disappointment of the time, but at the same time these 3 years kept alive the memory of its best moment, the discussions about the music and the uncountable groups of fans reunited to share OCs like the fandom has always done.

In this anniversary, I thought it would be interesting to revisit a bit the peculiar relationship I have with this game, as we wait for a new hype cycle for the next game. And maybe, just maybe, that will be the moment Forces will fade from our collective memory, at least for a decade, until new fans will look back to the good and bad this game has done. And I hope that, in the future, the situation of the franchise will also be different from what it has been these last years, in a good way of course.

This is all we have left of Forces today, a game that did not manage to capitalize on its opportunities, and a game that shames the legacy of the Unleashed-Colors-Generations era; but also a game that had some genuine, interesting ideas, and a different musical direction, one that (with some exceptions) was what the fans wanted. It’s a polarizing game, it’s a love-hate relationship.

[bitter-sweet-farmgirl]

Other Writing Prompts

This is just a compiled list of prompts I’ve collected from Pinterest and other random places, but don’t particularly fit anywhere or just would only fit into the Marvel or Star Wars fandoms.  I have other prompt lists that get more specific or more vague as well.  If you want to use one in a request to me, just use the following ‘Character Name and Prompt No. 35 from the Other Prompt list’ for example + some details if you’d like.

I didn’t organize this list by mood since it’s about 200 prompts.

Key:  

‘*’ Denotes something that could be used as dialogue.

[*] Denotes a swear word that I removed.

One evening, a portal to hell opens at the foot of your bed.  A demon strides through, rips off your covers, and begins to drag you through the portal by your ankles saying, "you're going to help me settle a bet."

"But what is power?"  "Loyalty"

The girl wrote in the journal as fluidly as fish swam in the sea, or birds rode the wind.  It was beautiful, how gracefully she crafted her spells.

"You do know that when you wipe my memories, it doesn't actually work, right?  One of the perks of being me."  The villain froze at the hero's words.  They'd just attempted their grand entrance four times in a row, trying to anticipate the hero's response.  Blanking their brain when they didn't quite get it perfect.  First impressions were important.  PR won battles as much as soldiers did.  "Don't worry," the hero grinned, looking the villain up and down slowly.  "You're doing great.  Very impressive."  Now they definitely had to die.

The villain prowled closer, gaze intent.  "Mm.  The last time someone looked at me like that, we didn't get out of bed all weekend.  Good times."  "Cute bravado, it won't save you."  "You're blushing."

"You could be so brilliant if you only turned your mind to creating things instead of destroying them."  The hero murmured.  They paused to tighten the villain's restraints, before glancing up to catch their eyes.  "I've never seen anything like you.  You're stunning." It was so earnest that, for once, the villain didn't quite know what to say.  The hero wet their lips, practically on their knees.  "Just let me help you, please.  You'd be a terrible waste to the world rotting."

"Oh, I could just take you apart.  See how long that cold, untouchable reputation of yours lasts then.  You're trying so hard to pretend you're not even human, but look at that..."  The hero pressed a hand above the villain's heart. They both felt it pounding far too clearly.  This was not supposed to happen.  There was a reason nobody was supposed to get close.

"If you want me," the hero panted, "come and get me."  The villain paused, languidly sweeping a hand up and under their chin.  "Want you in which way, Darling?  Don't get me wrong, both involve ropes, but it's an important distinction to make before we proceed."

You're a villain that fell in love with a hero.  Though the strongest villain on the planet, you constantly lose to your hero, since you just love the rivalry and don't want it to end. As you are being arrested one day, your hero is attacked by another villain; one too strong for them to beat.

Stab options:  Slowly raise their hand to the wound and/or pull out the weapon impaling them while everyone stares in horror before collapsing to the ground from shock and/or blood loss and being caught just in time by a friend/lover.

Hide the wound beneath a dark item of clothing in preparation for the dramatic reveal later where another character touches them and their hand comes away bloody or they overexert themselves and they stumble and wince but still try to insist that they're fine,

even though they are clearly in pain and struggling to stay on their feet.  And as the other character peels back their jacket it becomes clear that they're badly hurt and have been for awhile.

Character A tilting Character B's chin up to get a better look at their face and the evidence of the fight.  Character A delicately thumbs away the streak of blood by Character B's mouth, saying nothing as they examine it.  After a brief pause, Character B's heart skips a nervous beat as Character A looks them dead in the eyes.  Their voice is quiet and tense, their anger barely restrained.  "Who did this to you?"

"I will deny you death until you beg me for it."

"Hold on you died."  "Yeah, well it didn't stick."

As teenagers, a boy and a girl agree to marry if neither have by their 35th birthday.  Follow the boy as he attempts to sabotage every relationship the girl has till then.

The hero shows up at the villain's doorstep one night.  They're shivering, bleeding and scared.  There's also a slightly dazed look in their eyes--they were drugged.  They look like they were assaulted.  Looking up at the villain, swaying slightly as they are close to passing out they mumble, "...didn't know where else to go..."  Then collapse into the villain's arms.

"I loved the woman you were before.  Not this monster."

"I dare you to touch her again."

"By the Gods!  You love her, don't you?"

"Come here."  "Why?"  "Just come here."  "No, you're gonna hit me."

"Shh, shh."  The villain wiped the tears from the hero's face and pressed a kiss to their forehead.  "Don't struggle, you'll only make it worse for yourself."

"Hey, hey, hey.  Baby, what's wrong?"  The hero shuddered from the dram--startlingly vivid.  Of fighting and faces, and the the icy clench of betrayal in their chest already fading into unconsciousness.  And yet, they couldn't stop crying.  Shoulders shaking, uncontrollable sobbing.  The villain gathered them close, tucking the hero's head against their chest and making safe, soothing sounds.  "Bad dream, huh?  It's alright, nothing will touch you while I have you."

"Nobody touches you other than me, do you understand?"  The hero looked at the other villain, dead on the floor.  Dead before they even touched them.  And they hated themselves for the flicker of gratitude, of feeling protected, when everything was all wrong and there was nothing safe in this game at all.  Their villain was not kind.  Only possessive.  "Can we go home?"  The villain liked it when they called it home.

They hadn't wanted this.  Of course, they'd wanted the hero to stop fighting them.  Wanted them broken, despondent, but...  The person staring blankly at the walls, terrified of their own power, wasn't what they wanted.  "Darling, you're beautiful.  You don't need to be scared with me, I promise you that.  Look--try and attack me and I promise I can stop you.  You're safe with me.  You couldn't hurt me if you tried.  I'm just like you."

"You killed someone.  Do you really think they're ever going to want you back?"  The hero looked up at the villain, desperate, shattered.  "I'll always want you, even if they don't."  The villain said.  "I understand what it's like.  It was an accident, wasn't it?"

"You're not as evil as people think you are."  "No, I'm much worse."

"I was a King!"  He bellowed, spitting at the girl's feet.  She smiled at him, her eyes sad and yet full of mischief.  "And I was a god."

He pulled against the ropes with all his might, but they wouldn't give.  "Don't bother," a voice said."  He looked up to discover a thin girl bound with the same rope.  Although it was dark, he could see her bruised eyes and wrists.  "I already tried."

"Don't ever try to get inside my head," he snarled, slamming me against the wall.  For several beats we stayed there, his grip crushing my wrists.  Finally, his eyes softened.  "It's too dark for you."

"You think you have a choice, and that's sweet and all, but it's time you take up the knife and do what you were made to do."

"You-you are--"  "Beautiful, a genius, immensely talented--"  "Dangerous."

"Sorry, I have a clingy and feverish assassin on my lap.  I'll call you back when I've convinced him that a cold doesn't mean he's dying."

The villain pressed their lips to the hero's, silencing their sobbing pleas.  "Shh."  The villain murmured, angling their knife at the hero's throat.  "It's better this way."

He was leaning against the wall, trying to support his own body weight, and his gasps of pain were like music to her ears.

"You just killed five men, what do you have to say for yourself?"  "Oops?"

For a second, I thought she could actually see me.

Every person on the planet is born with a tattoo on each arm.  One matches your soulmate, and one matches your worst enemy.  However, most people have no clue which is which. You do, because they are both the same.

In a superhero-supervillain story, you're the hero's love interest, and as such, in classic use-their-loved-ones-against-them fashion, the villain keeps kidnapping you as leverage against the hero.  However, an unfortunate complication has arisen; having spent so much time with the villain, you begin to realize you're falling in love with them.

You never kill the spiders in your home.  You just whisper; "Today you, tomorrow me."  When you set them outside.  Now, in your most dire moment, an army of spiders arrives to have your back.

"I feel nothing for you.  Absolutely nothing!"  "Is that so?"  His tone was amused, which irritated me more.  "Yep.  Nothing."  He took one towards me with a smirk on his face.  I swallowed, refusing to back up.  He laughed at me discomfort.  "Relax, Princess.  I am not going to jump on you."  That relieved me somewhat, until he added, "not until you ask me to anyways."

The hero shows up at the villain's house, hurt, broken and defeated.  But it wasn't the villain and they are extremely angry that someone hurt their hero.

The phone rings.  The voice on the other end says "we need you again."  Then hangs up.

"What's the word for that infestation of tiny creatures over there?"  "Those are children.  That's a school."

Everyone has a guardian angel except you.  You have a guardian demon.  He deals with things in a much more violent, but more effective fashion.

"You have to go, you have to run away!"  "Run from who?"  "From me."

"Small fire!  I said to set a small fire!  This is not small!"

Two people running away from a blind, arranged marriage, in which one is supposed to marry the other, meet on the road by coincidence and fall in love with each other.

*Not every prince is charming

When people are born, they are assigned a soulmate.  They have an original song in their head that only them and their soulmate know.  A person just broke into your house and you're pretty sure they are here to kill you.  They're humming your song under their breath.

"What?  Do you think I enjoy this?  This infatuation of mine?  This horrible need to know you are okay?"  To realize you can hurt me in a way no one for the past thousand years has been able to?"  "Well, stop it then!  If caring about me is such a nuisance to you, stop it!  It doesn't do much for either one of us."  "I CAN'T.  That's what kills me.  The fact that you can even ask that of me shows how ignorant you are about the power you have over me."

"I want to take a shower, so you should probably join me.  It'll save water."

"It's midnight!  Where the hell were you?"

"What the hell is your problem?"

"I might have slept with your [clothing article] when you were gone."

"No one has to know about us, I know this could ruin you."

"Just pretend to be my date."

"You should sleep."  "I'm not human, therefore, I do not require sleep."

"You broke me and now you expect me to follow you out onto the battlefield?  NO.  The answer is NO."

"You take me instead, do you hear me?  Give her back and take me instead."

"Wait, something doesn't feel right."

"Did you hear that?"

"Stay here and don't move.  I'll be right back."

"You told me you were okay!   You promised!"

"Why didn't you tell me?!"

"How long have you been covering this?"

"You've been trying to deal with this yourself?"

"We could have prevented this!"

"If you didn't want to be a burden, you should have gotten it treated right!"

"You didn't think it was that bad?  Are you looking at it?"

"You are not fine!"

"You look really cute in that sweater."

"No, like...  It's just, I can't believe you're actually wearing my clothes."

"You know I hear you talking, but I still don't have my coffee."

"Do you want to know the hardest thing about having a soulmate?  It's not the separation in the beginning, not the endless nights lying awake, hoping and praying tha someone was made for you.  It's... It's the love.  It's too strong, and you can't fight it.  I've tried. Believe me, I've tried...  But I'm always going to love you.  And I need you to know that."

"You would risk the lives of millions for one person?  Why?"  "Because it's not just one life...  It's yours."

"This might sound selfish, but I don't care about the world.  I only care about you."

"I still believe there is a good person in you."

"It was necessary."  

"Did you think I really cared about you?"

"This was my plan all along."

"There was no other way."

"How cute.  Struggle all you want, you won't be leaving this place."

"This is what you get from trusting me."

"It's too late to go back."

"I'm sorry this had to go down like this."

"That's right, I lied."

"It's all for a good cause."

"You were so stupid.  You should have known."

"Just so you know... I don't regret anything."

"Shame.  I kind of liked you."

"This is my responsibility."

"You will no longer love me if you see who I truly am."

"I'm a monster."  "No, you're not."

"You'd better put that knife down."

"But I did all of this for you?"  "I didn't want you to kill anyone."

Person A wins a big stuffed animal for Person B at an amusement park and offers to carry it for them.  Person B says they'll carry it themselves and carries it around smugly.

While on a date, Person A very shyly touches Person  B's hand and Person B reassuringly (and tightly) holds Person A's hand.

You press your ear against the wall, just in time to hear the scream.

AU where everyone is born with a very unique tattoo on their ankle, nobody else in the world has that tattoo.  Every time you fall in love, their tattoo appears somewhere else on your body. (i.e a new tattoo appearing on a celebrity's body in new photos and a very lucky fan (who'd just met them), realizing that it's their tattoo.)

 He/She kissed his/her brow as the world around them burned.  "See you in the next life, my love."  He/She whispered.

 "Is everything supposed to go dark?"

 "You'd better not die on me."

 "They just got a lucky shot."

 "Next time, don't call me over only to find you in a pool of your own blood!"

 "You need to keep pressure on it."

 When a character doesn't realize they've been shot or whatever and their hand brushes against their side and comes away wet with blood, and they're just staring at it like WTF is this and then their knees just totally give out on them and they sink down, maybe gasping a little as the reality finally hits them.

 A character that knows they've been shot, but waits until the rest of their crew is out of sight to put their hand against the slowly spreading stain of blood on their shirt, then trying to steady their breathing so they can follow without letting on how injured they are.

 Or the character who doesn't realize they've been hurt trying to see if everyone else is okay only to slowly realize that everyone is looking at them with mounting horror.  Then they touch their side to find it's wet and oh no.

 "Pull the trigger.  PULL IT!"  He screamed as he took the gun being held in his enemy's hand and pressed it against his own stomach.  "I can't!"  His enemy screamed.  "I can't kill you!"

 "You were more fun when we were kids," the villain sighed.  "You worshiped me then.  It was so cute."  "When we were kids, you weren't such a colossal prick."  The villain laughed and traced the weapon along their cheek.  "Now, you know that's not true.  You changed.  Not me."  The laugh dropped, to something more contemplative, softer, and yet no kinder.  "Why did you have to?"

 "Isn't that what people do?"  The villain asked softly.  "Learn to love each other?  Could you not learn to love me?  You-you who seem to have such a heart to love the world and everything in it?"  The hero turned their gaze away, jaw clenched, pity and anger tugging at them in equal measure.  "I would not be unkind to you," the villain persisted.  Cupping the hero's face, thumbs stroking their jaw.  "I would never."  "Kidnapping people is unkind."  The villain's grip tightened.  "Making people fall in love with you and refusing to love them back is unkind."  Oh, hell no.  The hero knocked their hands away, expression ablaze with rage that they even dared say that.  Their heart slammed, anger overtaking pity, teeth bared in a snarl.  "I will never love you.  Never."

 "This isn't the way to make people love you!"  "Love?"  The villain laughed at that, fondly even, as they looked down at the hero kneeling before them, heat in their eyes.  "My sweet thing, this isn't about love."

 "All that time locked away, and not a note from you.  No visits, no letters, nothing."  The villain trailed their fingers along the hero's sides, relishing the sight of them all chained up for them.  "You're lucky I'm nicer and won't just leave you here to rot, inmate."  The hero snarled at them, making an indignant noise.  "Aggressive behavior, now that would be a shot."

 "I enjoyed your visits."  The villain said, "but it's just not the same with a thick glass wall between us.  I know you felt the same way."  They didn't look at the hero, making cooing sounds at the hero's child in their lap.  The hero's mind raced, desperately trying to think of some way to fix this.  To calculate how long it would be before back up came.  The very sight of the villain holding onto their baby left them sick with dread, even more so as the child gurgled and laughed.  "You never told me about this little one, no they didn't, no they didn't."  They smothered a kiss to the child's forehead.  "They look like me."

 "Shh, shh."  the antagonist settled themselves comfortably on the protagonist's lap, looping their arms around them.  One hand cupped the back of their head and stroked soothing fingers through the protagonist's hair, guiding their head to rest on the antagonist's shoulder.  "It's alright, calm down..."  The protagonist's wrists strained against the chains binding their limbs to the chair, heart feeling like it might jack-knife out of their chest, nerve-endings jangling.  "Just match your breathing with mine."  The antagonist continued, concerned.  "We both know I'm going to hurt you regardless so there's really no point in having a panic attack about it.  Come on, deep breaths.  No

need to cry now, that's good.  You can do it."  They continued to make soothing sounds, crowning the protagonist's head with kisses.

 "I really thought you could save me."  The hero cradled the villain close, for now, too many things reeling through their head.  "Yeah, so did I."

 "You said if I did this, that we'd be done."  The antagonist smiled, brushing the protagonist's hair back from their forehead.  "You must have known that would never happen.  Look at what a great team we make--we're unstoppable!"  Their smile softened and the protagonist hated that it still made their stomach flip.  "You're incredible!"  "Incredibly done."  "If I let you go, you'll die.  The world can't maintain you the way I can."

 "You were everything to me."  And now, this.  Betrayal and longing, relief at life and despair at monstrosity, sunk like a fish hook in their chest.  Painful, inescapable.  "How could you?"  The antagonist's brow furrowed.  They reached out a hand, gently catching the protagonist's tears on their fingertips.  "You say that as if we've met before."  The protagonist's heart dropped out.  "What?  You don't remember me?"  The antagonist continued to stare at the tears for a moment before their hand clenched to a fist.  They nodded to their guards.  The protagonist struggled as the security seized hold of them again, dragging them up and backwards.  Their desperation pitched.  They grew sure.  "You don't remember, do you?  What's the last thing you remember?"  "Oh, and gag them," the antagonist said, looking away.  "They're boring me."  "[NAME]--" the guards cut them off.  The antagonist didn't look at them once as they were hauled out of the room.

 They tried again, and again, and again.  Each time, they were deftly deflected, tossed aside, pinned, knocked back as if their attacks and all their training was nothing.  The villain was good.  They tried for over an hour, ears ringing, nose bleeding, ribs cracked, fingers broken, until they were too exhausted to put any strength into a punch and the last lunge ended up more with them sobbing and shaking in frustration against the villain's chest.  The villain caught their wrists firmly and twisted them into a more secure hold.  They manhandled the protagonist, stumbling in front of the mirror so they could get a good look at just how pitifully outmatched they looked.  "This is what you wanted?  I'm sure your parents would be delighted to see this."

 "Teach me."  "What?"  The villain started.  "Teach me how to fight like you."  It was the most incredible thing they'd ever seen.  "...You want me to teach you how to kill me?"  The villain let go and let them crumple to the floor.  "[*].  I need a drink to deal with you."

 "I said that's enough now."  The villain caught hold of the hero's wrists as they tried to keep fighting, tossing their weapon aside before drawing them close.  Arms wrapping around them in an embrace that might have been comforting if it didn't have the unyielding restraint of shackles.  "There we go, easy now."  You've been hurt enough for one day."  Thrashing against the hold did nothing but exhaust the hero and eventually they sagged.  They sank together to the ground in a tangle of limbs, rocking slightly.  'You hurt me,' they wanted to scream.  'This is your fault.' "Shh," the villain murmured--warned, they didn't even know anymore.  "It's enough.  You've done more than enough, you'e fought so bravely, but just listen to me.  There's no shame in surrendering and living another day, right?"

 The villain was curled up in their bed.  Fast asleep, in their bed.  No broken windows, no broken locks--just there.  A bolt of rage shot through the hero before they got a better look at them and... Oh wow.  They let them sleep,  Tucked over another blanket and went into the kitchen and made food, something warm to drink and fished out some painkillers.  Their eyes flickered over when the villain made a clammy appearance.  "Sit down," they ordered.  "You're not going anywhere until I've taken a look at your wounds."  The villain sat, huddled up in one of the hero's old hoodies.  "You're not interrogating me.  Or angry."  "Oh, I'm furious.  But shockingly enough for once not at you.  If I ask you what happened, you're going to run aren't you?"  The villain didn't deny it.  This was different, somehow.

  "I loved you at your darkest."

 The fighter frowned when I stepped into the ring, his stance slackening a little as he took in the sight of me.  The roar of the crowd was deafening as they grew rowdy, waiting for the fight to start.  But he said, in a low growl of a voice, "I don't fight girls."  My lip curled as I replied, "too bad, because I fight boys."  And knocked his legs out from under him.

 "You took a bullet for me."  The villain stared at them, numbly almost, as the protagonist gasped for breath that didn't want to come down.  "That was stupid of you."  They wished they had some excuse, some clever plan, but it had simply been instinct.  They wished they had some witty comment, but it hurt too much to think.  The villain stepped closer, standing over them.  Watching them pant, propped weakly on one elbow, the other hand clamped to their side.  "I wish you hadn't done that," the villain said.  "So do I, [*]."  They squeezed their eyes shut.  They snapped open at the touch of hands, and the antagonist's face was right there.  Close.  "Are you scared?  Do you want me to make it quick for you?"  [*].  Really?

 "You can't just keep me!"  "You'd prefer I fight you and your friends?"  The villain returned.  "I wouldn't.  And you are an excellent piece of peace-keeping leverage.  A noble cause.  I would have imagined you'd be all aboard.

 "Don't do this," the antagonist entreated, anguished, wary.  "You don't have to do this."  The protagonist stared back, heart drumming in their ears, a dozen longings swelling beneath their tongue.  "I don't want to.  You're all I ever wanted."  It hurt to, finally, admit it aloud and the antagonist's breath hitched.  "But this is--this is wrong.  Can you really not see that?"  "Loving you can never be wrong."  Their chest ached.  "The things you do for love can."

 "Not what you expected?"  The villain smiled, frosty.  "I had plans other than you too.  I suppose we'll both have to make do."  The hero drew back, wide-eyed, because no.  This was not what they'd expected at all.  A little awkwardness, a little chill, not a dead body on the bedroom floor.  "What are you?"

 "Don't worry."  The villain caressed their partner's cheek, down the oh-so-vulnerable line of the hero's throat.  "I won't hurt you.  Suspicion always turns to the spouse first in these things."  "I'll tell."  "And then where would that leave you?  Like it or not love.  I'm all that you have in the world now.  We need to look after each other."

 When someone's heart breaks, so does a piece of our world; this creatures fissures,

valleys, and even cracks in the pavement.  Tell the story behind the Grand Canyon.

 "You're such a complete disaster."  Groans the villain, scooping the unconscious hero off the sidewalk.  "Like, holy hell, how does anyone let you out of their sight?  Stop picking fights with people you aren't ready for."

 "Fix it."  "I can't."  The protagonist dropped to their knees, a sick feeling curdling in the pit of their belly.  "Please--see, I'm begging and everything.  Fix it."  They swallowed hard.  "Please."  Their voice cracked.  "I can't."  The antagonist said.  They tugged one hand through their hair, jerking the other in a gesture for the protagonist to get up.  "I'm not saying it to spite you, I literally can't.  This is beyond my power.  I'm sorry."  The protagonist stared at them in numb disbelief.

 "Hand over the girl."  "Not going to happen."

 "Does it hurt?"  The hero asked carefully, looking at the huge scar that trailed from the other person's shoulder, down their chest to their stomach.  The scar was pale in colour and bumpy; raised above the skin ever-so-slightly.  The other person looked away, blinking fast.  "It did.  Years ago, when I first received it."  "I can't believe someone could do this to you," the hero whispered.  That got the other's attention, their head snapping towards the hero.  "You did this.  YOU did this to me and you don't even remember."  They hissed.

 "You need to eat something."  The hero scowled, wrapping both arms around their grumbling stomach.  "You need to mind your own business."  The villain stepped forward slowly, arms held out in front of them, palms up.  "You fainted on me last week, and I can hear how hungry you are.  If you won't take my money, at least let me buy you some food.  You help everyone, let someone help you for once.  Don't let your pride stop you from taking the help you need to continue saving lives."  The villain smiled crookedly.  "To continue stopping me."

 "Your city is in ruins.  You are--"  The villain stopped, gloves half off, and raised an eyebrow.  "You're wrapped in my cape."  Swaddled in the thick fabric, only the hero's face was visible, their expression trapped between a scowl and a pout.  "It's cold down here, and you left it in reach.  If you weren't too tight to heat your lair while keeping me prisoner down here, I wouldn't have had to resort to thievery."  "You look adorable," the villain said, forcing a sneer into their voice.  Because they did.  They looked adorable and warm and perfect.

 Character B bleeding heavily while Character A tries to staunch the blood, but Character B is more concerned about the fact that stoic Character A is sobbing and panicking.

 When help is a few hours away and Character B has to stay awake, Character A rambles loudly about random stuff, trying not to break down and cry and to keep them awake.

 "Show me your scars," he said.  "But...  Why?"  She asked quizzically.  "I want to see how many times you needed me and I wasn't there," he whispered, a tear rolling down his cheek.

 "You go ahead, I'll hold them off for as long as I can."

 "Don't talk to me.  It's 6 AM and I haven't had coffee yet, so anything I do or say cannot  

be held against me."

 "Dude, that jacket is mine, give it back."

 "YOU USED MY TOWEL?!"

 "Where is he?"  "My lady...."  "Answer me."

 "Wait, when did I take off my clothes?"

 "I"m fully convinced you never graduated kindergarten."

 "I'm not here, actually, this is a projection from....  [planet].... I moved there recently."

 "You have no idea how to make toast?!"

 "I haven't showered in four days."

 "You're more zombie than human."

 "Fix her."  "No."  "Because you can't or you don't want to?"  "Because she'll break again.  And you'll be back here, on my doorstep, begging me once more to fix something that wasn't meant to be fixed."  "So you don't want to?"  The healer's eyes were cold.  "No."

 "You made me love you."  The hero said.  They stared out of the window, quietly, watching the rain spit down across the streets.  The villain froze in the doorway, studying them, the cup of love-potion spiked tea still cradled in their hand.  "I've known for weeks," the hero continued, idly almost.  They didn't glance over.  "It's obvious.  Too sweet in the tea."  "You're still drinking it."  "I wanted to see what you would do.  Waited."  The villain swallowed at that.  They hadn't done anything--aside from give the tea.  Perhaps that was the most damning thing of all.  

 "She's crying, what do I do?"  "Go comfort her."  "How do I do that?"  "Start with hugs."  "With what?"

 "I always knew I'd take a bullet for you," I say as pain ebbs through my chest.  He/She crouches beside me, clutching at my shirt.  Sobs echo from him/her as my lids grow heavy from the weight.  "And I always knew you wouldn't take one for me."  I whisper and shut my eyes.

 First she realized she was pregnant, then she realized her baby would only be half human.

 An all female crew is picked for the first [planet] mission.  They all come back pregnant.  

 Imagine a villain getting injured and losing their memory and the hero finds them and takes them back with them, taking care of them and the villain gets their memory back after like a week but doesn't say anything because the hero is being so nice to them and nobody has been that nice to them in so long and they don't want it to end and they're maybe getting fond of the hero, but don't tell anyone.  But eventually something happens and the hero is in trouble and they're trying to get the villain to run away because they still think they're an amnesiac with no idea how to defend themselves and they've grown to like them and don't want them to get hurt, but the villain just pushes past them towards whatever is trying to hurt the hero and just goes guns blazing and destroys them.

 "I wish I had a camera."

 The shackles grazed her wrists as she changed positions in an attempt to get comfortable.

 You live in a world where your soulmate is unable to hurt you, intentionally or otherwise.  

You are fighting in a war when one of the enemy's knives harmlessly glances off of you.

 The rain came down in heavy sheets.  He pulled his soaked [type of hat] down to protect his eyes and moved forward.  Where was she?  Would he find her in time?  A dark shape against the bridge railway caught his eye when the lightning flashed.  He rushed forward and grabbed her arm, spinning her around to face him.  He couldn't tell for the rain if she was crying or not, droplets streamed down her face.  Her mouth opened to let out a cry, but when she saw it was him, she pleaded with her eyes.  He only nodded and put his arm around her.  He'd protect her.

 My head pounded as the toxin flooded my veins, but when I looked at her I could tell what it was doing to her was much worse.

 A woman has been dating guy after guy, but it never seems to work out.  She's unaware that she's actually been dating the same guy over and over; a shapeshifter who's fallen for her and is certain that this time he'll get it right.

 "What have you been doing?  Actually, don't answer that, I don't want to know."

 "You're hurt!"  He pulled the arrow out of his chest.  "Oh, that's nothing."  She stared at him.  She'd thought she'd seen the arrow pierce his heart.  How was he even alive?  He laughed.  "Don't worry, dear.  It takes more than one little arrow to kill me."  She was pretty sure she'd seen his eyes glimmer for a second.

 "It's 2 AM.  I think that's enough of that."

 "Watch, this is the best part!"

 "Why are you doing this?!"  The villain grinned, their malice as tangible as the ground beneath the hero's feet.  "Because you fell in love.  And you needed to learn that love won't save you when there's a gun to your head."

 It's not like she meant to trip and spill coffee all over him.  It was just the way of her people.

 The villain gently lifted the hero's chin with a fingertip.  "Don't you see?  We're the same, you and I."  The hero narrowed their eyes and smacked the villain's hand away.  "You and I will never be the same.  I'll make sure of it."  The villain grabbed the hero's wrists in an iron grip before they even knew it was moving.  "Darling," the villain chuckled, "you don't have a choice."

 The villain snarled, "you will find the moment you hurt them is the moment I tear out your heart and shatter your bones.  If you dare destroy them as you have threatened, then they'll find nothing left of you."

 "You're not allowed to die, dammit!"  The villain's voice quivered, threatening to break as they shook the hero's limp shoulders.  "I promised myself you wouldn't die here.  I promised you I'd get us both out of this.  Dammit, I promised!"

 The villain's breaths were shallow and panicked as they laid the hero on the ground, blood staining both their hands.  "Damn it," the villain muttered as they ripped a piece off their shirt and pressed it flush with the hero's ribcage.  "Why didn't you tell me?"  "Didn't want you to think I was weak," the hero mumbled, their face an already alarming shade of white.  The villain grimaced, tears blurring their vision.  "Well, I'm afraid you're about to witness first hand just how weak I am."

 "The world is ruthless, unforgiving.  I came to realize that long ago when my wife was

stolen from me."  She lifted her hood to reveal her face.  "She wasn't stolen.  She left."

 The villain shook their head.  "What a pity..."  "Let me go!"  Begged the protagonist again.  "Please," she sobbed.  "Please.  "You could have been Queen.  It's a pity you chose this path instead."  The villain lifted their dagger.

 "I"m the daughter of a King who forgot my name."

 "Go to him.  He waits for you."

 *He became King because he wanted to marry you.

 One night, a dark King appeared and offered me his hand, his heart, and his Kingdom.

 Arranged marriage AU where I am the Prince/Princess who sneaked out to a tavern and while I was there I got into a fist fight with another patron.  Fast forward to the next day where I am meeting the person who has been engaged to me since birth and oh wow your eye looks horrible, what did I do.

 Your father is forcing you to marry someone you've never met.  The night before your wedding you tie your sheets together and make your escape through the window.  Halfway down, you make eye contact with someone doing the exact same thing a few windows over.

 "If a god falls in love with you, you can never really die."

 Person A and Person B are in the kitchen.  Person A is short, while Person B is slightly taller.  Person A:  *Struggles to retrieve items from top shelf*  Person B:  "Do you need me to get it for you?"  Person A:  *Gasps* "How dare you insult the vertically challenged!"  Person B:  *Laughs* "Okay then..."  Person A:  (Moments later) *Defeated sigh*  "Help meee....."

 Person A:  *Completely serious* "I have to get something off my chest."  Person B:  *Fingers crossed* "I hope it's your shirt, please."

 Person A noticeably disheveled as they enter the room.  "Sorry I'm late, I was doing stuff."  Person B, also disheveled and grinning smugly enters the room after.  "I'm stuff."

 The villain smiled, watching the anguish on the hero's face as their so-called friends handed them over.  "I guess," the villain sighed.  "You're nobody's first priority."  They reached out, pulling the hero closer by their restraints.  "Except mine, of course.  Don't worry.  There's nothing I wouldn't do to keep you."  The hero shivered, turning their head away.

 "I'm all yours," the hero held up their hands.  "Just leave them out of it.  This is just you and me, right?"

 The villain panted for breath, hands bloody--a little dazed and starting to shake.  "They were going to hurt you.  I-I panicked.  I know it's bad that I--"  "Shh."  The hero held out an arm and the villain crumpled against them.  "It's alright.  You were only trying to protect me, weren't you?"  The villain nodded.  "Then I forgive you, it's okay.  But you know there are going to be people who don't see it my way, who wouldn't understand like I do."  "But you can make that go away.  You can do anything."  The villain said.  It took everything the villain had not to shiver with delight.

 "There," the villain carded their fingers through the hero's hair.  "Isn't it better to feel clean?"  No more blood or grime or gore on battered skin.  Instead, fluffy towels, steaming water, soothing scents and oils which soothed all aches and pains.  "It would

feel even better if you weren't in the room.  Bit creepy, that."  "You know you can't be trusted not to abuse my hospitality."

 "Stop it."  The command, the quiet authority cut straight through to the villain's brain.  "You're overthinking," their sidekick said.  "You know what you get like when you start  overthinking.  Come here."  The villain moved over thoughtlessly.  Their sidekick guided them gently down onto their knees, taking the villain's head in their hands.  Their fingers massaged soothing circles and the villain's eyes fluttered closed.  "That's right," their sidekick murmured.  Good.  Just focus on me.  Take some deep breaths."

 "You are so terrified that people will never love you, that they'll leave you," the protagonist murmured.  "That you would never give them the chance to do either."  The antagonist stilled in the doorway, just for a beat.  The protagonist looked at them, heart seized in their mouth.  "That's not love, you know.  Love necessitates choice."  "Just as well then," the antagonist replied.  "That I'm not looking to give someone the chance to love me.  Sleep tight."  The door slammed shut behind them.

 "I miss you."  "You miss an illusion."  But the villain paused all the same, hand rising as if about to touch.  Faltering.  Their hand dropped.  They steeled themselves.  "Take them away."  Cold.

  *And mighty we became.

 "That has got to be the lamest pick up line in existence."  "Don't worry that's just Plan A."  "So what's Plan B?"  "To take you hostage."

 "I'm fine," the antagonist said.  "Okay."  "I'm fine."  They'd just said that, and the protagonist was starting to look concerned.  "Just fine.  Everything's going to be fine."  Oh wow, they couldn't stop saying it, couldn't stop gabbling it, couldn't breathe over it, choking on that word.  Fine, fine, fine, always perfectly fine.

 The villains lungs strained for air as the hero slammed them up against the wall, face inches away.  Fear licked up their spine.  "You're sorry?"  The hero spat.  "Sorry doesn't even begin to cover what you're going to be for what you've done.  You don't get to cry over your guilt.  You're not the one who got hurt."  

 In the heat of the moment, whether this is a fight, chase, or the characters are under gunfire; they escape and get to cover.  However all is not well when Character A turns to see Character B leaning heavily against a wall, clutching at their side.  Character B slowly looks up and shows a blood covered hand before saying, "so.  Slight problem," before collapsing onto the floor.

 "I love you from the bottom of my heart, but I don't trust your cooking.  Stay out of my kitchen."

 Person B dancing around their home, headphones in, eyes closed, singing as loudly as they please to their favourite song while Person A stands in the doorway watching their oblivious partner with a loving smile on their face.

 Person A:  "How can someone say Person B is evil?  They're the most precious soft little soul."  Person B:  *Wiping blood off their face*  "YEAH, I'M ADORABLE!"

 Person A walked into the house, threw their bag on a chair, and laid down on the carpet with an air of defeat.  Person B walked in a few hours later, saw Person A on the ground and set to work.  They picked up a few blankets and pillows.  Then Person B walked

over to Person A, laid everything out, then proceeded to lay down with Person A.  Person A slowly curled up to Person B and fell into a restful sleep.  Five hours later, they're still there.  Just soaking in each other's presence.

 Person A was sitting up in bed, headphones on and staring intensely at their Ipad screen, which flickered brightly in the dim room.  Person B rolled over and slowly sat up, glancing at the clock and seeing it was well past 2 AM.  Person B leaned up against Person A, with their eyes still closed and asked why Person A was still up.  Person A popped out an earbud and quickly *states reason* and then turned their attention back to the screen.  Person B yawned loudly, grabbed the device and tossed it off the bed.  Right before Person A could protest, Person B curled an arm around them and forced Person A to lay down.  Person A fell asleep within minutes, tucked securely in Person B's arms.

 Imagine your OTP getting ready for bed and Person A is sitting on the bed.  Person B tries to sneak up on them with a hug or a kiss, but Person A has quick reflexes and thinks they're being attacked.  So they accidentally hit Person B in the face and they fall back onto the bed.  Person A quickly realizes who it was then, and keeps saying sorry really fast and hugs them and kisses where it hurts.

 Imagine Person A walking into the kitchen, only to find Person B in tears.  Person A immediately rushes over to Person B's side, fretting over them, consoling and asking what happened.  Surprised, Person B explains they were simply cutting onions.

 Person A is baking cookies and has to split their attention between the timer and fighting off Person B, who keeps trying to steal cookie dough from the bowl.

 Imagine your OTP making out on a couch, but then one of them accidentally rolls off and the other one is either frantically asking if they're okay, or laughing their head off.

 Imagine your OTP ice skating and one of them falls so the other tries to help them up, but they lose their balance and fall on top of the other.

 What if he held you tightly in his arms as you lay on his chest, drifting into sleep by the sound of his steady heartbeat.  Feeling the slight vibration of his lungs as he hummed softly.  His hands brushing lightly in your hair as his lips pressed against the top of your head, but stayed there for awhile.  Then he let out a faint sigh, taking his lips away, seeming to be deep in thought.

 You shift around in bed, trying to find a comfortable position.  No success.  You hear your boyfriend stretching.  "Can't sleep, my love?"  He asks, letting out a sleepy sigh.  "Come here," he whispers.  You move over to him and he snakes an arm around your waist and wraps his leg around yours as you rest your head on his bare chest.

 As you lay in bed alone, struggling with reaching sleep, you toss and turn before huffing out in annoyance at still being awake.  A small fraction of light creeps into your room until the door closes and the edge of your bed dips down underneath his weight.  He carefully climbs under the covers, reaching an arm out for you, pulling you closer to his body, your back to his front.  "You can sleep now, love.  I'm home.  I love you."  He gently whispers in your ear, lightly kissing your cheek and then laying his head on the pillow next to you, leading you to fall into a dream-filled sleep of your boy being back home.

[mizugachi]

Hi!! I'm here as promised! Could you do 9 + 8 + 18 please? Thanks!!

@alphabees-writes

After I-don’t-know-how-long, it’s finally here! Thank you for prompting me this, I really enjoyed writing it.

I never did camping/summer camp in its classical form, so linguistic camp is what you get, something I actually know, I hope you’ll still enjoy it :)

_________________________

Camp!au + exes + “ this can’t be real. I feel like I’m having a fever dream. “

Read it on AO3 : https://archiveofourown.org/works/25331935

Kurt was counting the days. In a couple of days, he was flying to France, his dream country, for a three-weeks summer camp, studying this beautiful language and learning about the amazing French culture. He was going to be part of a French family, in Nice, on the French Riviera, and he just couldn’t wait. He had looked up pictures of the region: it was stunningly beautiful.

He had always wanted to go on a language study vacation and he had been saving up for two years for this, working extra shifts with his dad at the shop. Blaine, his boyfriend, had complained a bit about it, arguing that Kurt was putting their relationship aside. It was easy to say for him, his parents were loaded and could offer him whatever he wanted. Kurt’s dad couldn’t just take 2500$ out of his pocket.

His luggage was already packed and he had spent the last month reviewing his French lessons, watching French TV shows and movies and listening to French music. He was so ready for this.

____________________________

The first thing he heard when he landed at the airport was the sound of the cicadas. They were everywhere and it was deafening. But it was so south of France and exotic and he loved it already, his heart busting with excitement. He met the supervisors who told him and the kids who shared the same flight that other participants were to be expected on another flight in a few hours and, in the meantime, they would be taken to their host family. Kurt couldn’t wait to meet them.

His host family lived in a typical south of France house, with ocher roof and light-colored walls, on the hill overlooking the city. They were a middle-aged couple, Marie and Laurent, who had two children, Enzo and Léa, and were very friendly, welcoming Kurt warmly. Their house even had a swimming pool, something Kurt rarely saw in Ohio, with a splendid view on the Mediterranean Sea. Kurt thought he was living a dream.

The mother, Marie, told him he was going to share his bedroom with another boy in his study group and Kurt was both excited and anxious to meet him. What if he was a complete homophobe? Kurt wasn’t planning on divulging anything too personal but his bullying in high school when he wasn’t even out was still a fresh memory in his mind.

He didn’t have to wait for long. Laurent went to pick his roommate up at the airport and he came back forty minutes later, while Marie and the children were getting to know Kurt, asking him several questions, all in French. They spoke a bit of English but Kurt wanted his trip to be as immersive as possible and, he had to admit it, he took pride in his accent when Marie and the children complimented him on it. Laurent joined them on the terrace with the boy and Kurt froze when he saw him.

It was none other than Sebastian Smythe, his former show choir rival and ex-boyfriend.

He must have committed a horrible crime in his past life to have such bad karma. Out of all the participants in the camp and out of all the summer camps offered to young Americans, he had to be travelling with the same agency, at the same dates and to the same destination and have his ex as a roommate? Kurt wanted to cry. He might have been dating Blaine for a few months now, but he was not over Sebastian. Sebastian who was his first everything, his first boyfriend, his first love, his first heartbreak. Things with him had ended quite badly when Sebastian made it clear he wasn’t into long, exclusive and romantic relationship by cheating on him with some name-less guy he hooked up with at Scandals during their junior year. Kurt had since been trying to avoid him at all costs, even transferring back from Dalton to McKinley while Karofsky was still there. The heartbreak was too much and thank god for Rachel and Mercedes who were there to pick up his shattered heart.

He was as handsome as ever, all slender, tanned freckled skin and green eyes, in a striped short-sleeved polo shirt with a popped collar and chino beige shorts, and it made Kurt’s heart ache. Oh, he was so not over him.

Sebastian’s eyes widened and he stood still when he recognized Kurt as well, and awkwardness settled between them. Their host family must had sensed something, because everyone fell silent while Kurt and Sebastian entered a starring contest. It was Marie who broke the silence first after a few tensed seconds.

“Bienvenue, Sebastian!” she said, standing up from her chair to greet him. “Did you have a good trip?”

She went to give him la bise, kissing him in the air once on each cheek and pulling Sebastian out of his trance. Kurt had been taken aback by the familiarity of the gesture but Sebastian kissed Marie like he had made French greetings all his life — and he probably had, he lived in France for a few years, Kurt remembered, and he wondered suddenly why Sebastian would go on a French study vacation if he was already fluent.

After greeting the children, Sebastian went up to Kurt and smirked at him and, god helped him, Kurt wanted nothing more but to rip that smirk off his face.

“Hey, Kurt,” he said. “Long time no see.”

Kurt couldn’t process what he was saying in French and stared dumbfounded at him. No way he was going to spend three weeks of his dream vacation with his ex-boyfriend.

“This can’t be real. I feel like I’m having a fever dream,” he said, his voice shaky.

Sebastian’s smile only widened and Kurt didn’t understand how he could pretend to be so casual about their unexpected reunion. Laurent came up to them and tried to make small talk to break the awkwardness.

“Do you guys know each other?” he asked.

“You could say that,” Sebastian answered, still looking at Kurt with his everlasting smugness.

Kurt finally pulled himself together and shot his best bitch look to Sebastian, not wanting for him to see how much he wrecked him in the past — and still did today — even though he just spent the last minute looking at Sebastian incredulously.

“Yeah, we have a slight history, we went to the same high school at some point,” Kurt said, crossing his arms on his chest.

“Well, that’s great!” Laurent said. “Your supervisors told us you have a group meeting at the beach tonight so that you could get to know the others traveling with you, but you two already know each other! You can share some high school memory!”

Kurt was certain he didn’t want to share some high school memory with Sebastian but didn’t say anything. His dream had suddenly turned into a nightmare. ____________________________

The supervisors had lit a portable barbecue on the beach and provided marshmallows for everyone. Kurt was a bit sad they were not allowed to light a bonfire on the beach but it made sense: causing a wildfire would be a terrible start for the holiday. They were thirty or so kids who decided to ditch the traditional summer camp for a more studious one, and Kurt made small talk with almost everyone, coming from all over the USA.

When he went up to the barbecue to roast his marshmallows, Sebastian chose this moment to talk to him. Kurt had tried to ignore him as best as he could back at the house, given the fact that they were going to share a room for three weeks, but Sebastian was intended on speaking with him.

“You won’t be able to avoid me for the whole trip, Kurt,” he said, roasting his marshmallows next to him.

“What are you even doing here, Sebastian?” he snapped, refusing to look at him. “You are fluent in French.”

“My mom wanted me to do something for the summer before college,” Sebastian answered. “And since sleeping in a tent with no bathroom and doing outdoors stuff is not my cup of tea, I thought, why not go back to France? Nice has awesome gay clubs and they allow you to drink at 18. Wanna come?”

“No, thanks,” Kurt said though gritted teeth.

He didn’t need to see his ex-boyfriend hitting on some handsome French boys. Clearly, unlike him, Sebastian had closure on their relationship.

“Your loss,” Sebastian smirked. “Though I have to admit, I’m quite sad we ended it up last year. You aged like a fine wine. Makes me wonder why I ended it. Heard you’re with Blaine now.”

He had only said five sentences to Kurt since they met again and, yet, he was already on his nerves. Kurt lost it and turned to him, his eyes glazing with anger.

“I ended it because you are a selfish little bitch who thinks with his dick!” he shouted, not caring if someone might hear him. “How could you do that to me?”

“Sorry, babe,” Sebastian said, and he didn’t seem sorry in the least. “But you knew what you were getting into with me. I don’t do romance, remember? I want to know what the world has to offer before I settle.”

“You didn’t have to rub it in my face! I can’t believe I was stupid enough to fall in love with you!” Kurt spat.

His confession stopped Sebastian dead in his tracks and he looked at Kurt like he was seeing him for the first time.

“W-what?” he stuttered. “You were in love with me?”

“Like you didn’t know! You’re such an ass, you know that? You haven’t changed a bit, you’re still as irritating, selfish and obnoxious as ever!”

Kurt shot him his best glare but his expression softened when he saw the look of utter shock on Sebastian’s face. He really looked like he was clueless about Kurt’s feelings for him and too caught out by his confession to snark back at him. Kurt prided himself on being able to make Sebastian Smythe shut up every now and then.

“Seriously, Kurt. I didn’t know,” he said, astonished.

“Well, that wouldn’t have changed anything, right?” Kurt mumbled, anger leaving his voice. “Your cold heart wouldn’t care.”

Sebastian seemed hurt, but he didn’t say anything. Kurt huffed and took his marshmallow stick and went off, leaving Sebastian alone by the fire. He rejoined two girls he sympathized with and sat next to them, staring at the sea to forget about Sebastian.

It was going to be a long vacation.

[yellowsugarwords]

Walking Dead Game FanFiction - “Why Don’t We Kiss?”

Title: Why Don’t We Kiss? Characters: Clementine, Mitch Summary: Mitch and Clementine learn one night that neither of them have been kissed. To help each other out, they kiss each other and realize they have feelings for one another. Author's Note: This is actually so cute I’m so happy with this one :) Requested By: ebimanami support me with ko-fi ♡ ---------♥️♥️♥️----------

The apocalypse killed a lot more than people. Clementine learned that the hard way.

Since AJ came along, Clementine’s childhood had long since passed. Any childlike wonder had been rapidly abandoned. When taking care of a child alone at 11, any opportunity to act like a kid had to be surrendered. She was tending to a kid. She didn’t have time to be one.

Her trust disintegrated, even within the people she’d been by the side of for years. You never knew when someone, someone you loved and trusted, would throw you under the bus for their own chance at survival.

But it also killed Clementine’s dreams — the opportunity to develop naturally, to be happy, to experience what normal teens got to. To graduate elementary school, to write her first final, to fail her first final. To have her first drink at a house party and break her first bone from playing sports on the playground. It had all been ripped away from her.

On nights when Clementine pondered, she normally sat on Ericson’s front steps, staring off through the front gates, wondering what laid out there.

Even when she wasn’t on watch duty, Clementine rarely went to bed at the same time as everyone else at Ericson. Sleeping was a challenge, especially since Delta’s threat was made known. Often times, Clementine put AJ to bed, waited until he fell asleep, then slipped out. She didn’t want to worry the child, but also wanted to ensure he was actually going to sleep. The last thing she needed was an overly-tired AJ during the day when they had chores to do.

Chores. AJ spent his days doing nothing but chores. His childhood had been robbed from him too.

The thought caused Clementine’s brows to cave. Sure, she could sit around and feel sorry for herself - she had been doing it for 8 years — but AJ? She felt bad because he didn’t feel bad. He didn’t know about the world before. He didn’t know about what he was missing. He thought this was life.

Clementine groaned and stood, stretching her arms and her legs. The more she sat and felt sorry for herself, the less sleep she would get. Seeing as tomorrow was wood chopping and hauling day, she couldn’t spare the energy.

“Hey,”

Clementine tensed with her arms overhead — the exact opposite of what she was trying to do — and froze. The voice felt oddly far away, too far to be recognizable. She glanced around, but finding nothing she was ready to chock it up to having little sleep.

“Clem. Watch tower.”

Turning, finally given a location, she spotted the figure. She couldn’t make out a face seeing as they were too far away, but she began to trot closer. Then, standing at the base of the ladder, she spotted Mitch’s head peek over.

“You’re up late,” he scoffed.

Clem smirked and crossed her arms. “I could say the same to you.”

“I’m up late with a purpose. You’re just up late.”

Clem rolled her eyes, knowing full well he couldn't see them, and started to climb. Without offering a lick of debate, Mitch stepped back and waited.

Groaning as she hit the top, Clementine brushed off her knees and stood. “How late are you up here?”

“Until 6.”

Clementine’s eyes widened. “What? Nobody’s coming to switch out at 3?”

Mitch shrugged. “It was supposed to be Aasim, but apparently he needs his ‘beauty sleep.’”

Clementine smirked. Mitch’s disgust at the notion brought her some joy. “So, you offered to take his shift for him?”

Mitch nodded, leaning over the railing, his gaze sweeping the dark woods. “Yeah. I knew he wasn’t going to work the shift anyway, and I sure as shit wasn’t about to let the post be empty for 3 hours.”

Clem raised a brow. She’d always had a lot of respect for Mitch and the way he handled responsibility, but especially how he handled it now. “You don’t mind the lack of sleep?”

“I don’t sleep anyway,” he scoffed.

Clementine remained silent, as if hoping he was going to elaborate on that point. When he didn’t, she leaned against the railing too. “By choice? Or,” she carried out the ‘r,’ hoping to make it sound playful.

Mitch didn’t react. “I can’t stay asleep.” He hesitated. Clem watched as he shifted uncomfortably. “I don’t want to sleep.”

Strangely, Clementine felt a rush of calm at the statement, despite it being over Mitch’s discomfort. But their discomfort was shared — she wasn’t alone in her struggle. In their world, Clem believed everyone would eventually have sleep issues. It was hard to find enough peace to sleep — your most vulnerable and trusting form — when you were constantly surrounded by people waiting to betray you. To stab you in the back — figuratively or literally.

“You too?” The words left her lips in a rush before her brain could tell her to stop. Her heart was pushing the words out, begging her to voice them, praying for her to confide in someone.

Mitch turned, his cold stare meeting hers and softening — like ice under first glimpse of sun. “You too?” He questioned back.

Classic Mitch. A simple ‘yes’ or ‘no’ would be too simple. It would be giving up some power he had. Clementine smirked, not enjoying the topic of conversation, but enjoying Mitch’s presence. “It’s been happening for years, but more so since I got here.”

Clementine could sense a faint flicker in his brow. Discontent, possibly. “That long?”

She nodded, her gaze shifting to the forest. She could feel the night breeze whisk past her ears, chilling them. It brought a wave of reality to her before she got lost in her own head.

“What about?”

“Hm?” Clem asked, not tearing her gaze from the trees.

“What are you losing sleep about?” He clarified, his stare also locked dead ahead. Clementine didn’t need to turn to know he wasn’t looking at her. “It’s always something. We don’t lose sleep over nothing.”

Dang, it really was happening to him. If it wasn’t, he wouldn’t know that.

Clementine cleared her throat. “It’s stupid.”

Mitch said nothing. Clem knew that was his weird way of saying “If it’s bugging you, it’s not” but Mitch always struggled with vocalizing things like that. Soft things.

“I think about my future.”

Mitch scoffed. “Future?” He said it as if it was a joke. A punchline. “What future?”

“That’s exactly what I think about,” she claimed, turning and casting a smirk. It held a shadow of offence, but Mitch didn’t care.

“Alright,” Mitch scoffed, leaning against the railing, his back facing the woods. Clementine wanted to scold him on how that was the exactly opposite of what he was supposed to be doing, but by that logic he would kick her off. Frankly, she didn’t want to end their conversation yet. So, she crossed her arms, leaned deeper into the railing, and said nothing.

“Go on.” Mitch prompted.

She wanted to raise a brow, but didn’t. “I think about the future I missed out on by being here.”

“Here?”

“Apocalypse here,” she said. “Not here here. Not Ericson here.”

Mitch hummed in understanding.

Clementine hesitated, debated if she should say what sat on the tip of her tongue, then caved. “We didn't get to be normal.”

Mitch snorted. “I mean, everyone here wouldn’t ever be normal. Apocalypse or not.”

Clem stayed silent for a moment. Mitch could tell she was being serious and eased off. “I mean,” Clem scoffed, turning so her back also faced the woods. “We didn’t get to go to prom. Or graduate. Or move out for the first time. We didn’t get to do any of the things we should’ve been able to do.”

Mitch remained still. “I never thought of it like that.”

“That isn’t what keeps you up?”

“No,” he said softly. “That’s about keeping everyone safe.” Clementine’s shoulder loosened, drinking in the sorrow in his stance. “Specifically Willy,” he continued. “But everyone.”

Clementine sighed, closing her eyes, facing the school building. “You shouldn’t need to worry about that.” She sighed. “Not when you’re still a kid.”

“Then what should we be worrying about?”

Clem smirked. Sometimes, Mitch’s playfulness and inability to take a lot seriously paid off. “I don’t know,” she hushed, facing him. “We should be thinking about high school graduation. Prom. Applying for schools.”

“As if I would ever go to college.”

Clem snorted. Mitch smirked.

“Fine,” Clem scoffed. “Then we’d be thinking about dates for proms. Suits and dresses. What colour corsage we wanted.”

“That sounds lame.”

“Dates for prom?”

“No, getting a corsage.” Mitch scoffed. “Sounds stupid.”

“It’s French and it’s formal.”

“Stupid.”

Clem rolled her eyes, arms crossing. “You’re telling me you never think about how you didn’t get to ask out a prom date?”

“No,” Mitch scoffed. “Never.” Clem raised a brow. Mitch didn’t look at her.

“What about asking a girl out in general?” Clem pushed. “Or getting your first girlfriend? Or your first kiss? Unless you’ve already had it.”

Mitch didn’t say anything.

Clem’s jaw dropped. “You haven’t,”

Mitch scoffed, whipping around to face the trees again. Maybe if he buried his stare into darkness Clem wouldn’t see how embarrassed he looked. “Shut up, you said it yourself. We didn’t get chances to do stuff like that.”

Silence hung over them, and Mitch couldn’t tell if it was guilty or not. Clementine couldn’t tell if it was angry of not.

“I haven’t had my first one either.”

Mitch turned to the side, slapping a hand to his hip. “So, then are you done making fun of me?”

Clem smirked. “Maybe.”

Mitch smirked back and returned to watching. Yet again, silence.

“We could change that.” Clementine’s voice sounded different this time, and turning to face her Mitch could see why. Everything about her stance had changed — her posture, the weak sagging of her shoulders, the way her eyes met his as if glancing through a curtain. She seemed shy.

“We could?”

Clementine stood patiently, waiting for him to connect the dots. When he didn’t, her hands slapping impatiently to her sides. “We could kiss each other, Mitch. That’s what I’m suggesting.”

God, boys were dumb. Maybe getting her first kiss wasn’t worth it.

Mitch’s body jolted, as if the concept of kissing Clementine had genuinely never crossed his mind. Having it presented it to him made him flustered. Genuinely flustered. A version of Mitch Clementine had never seen before. It made her smile, but she fought back her bubbling giggle.

“Are you being serious?” His voice was squeaky. It was crazy adorable, but Clementine would never tell him that.

“Yes,” she said through a sigh, flopping her hands again. “Why not? Then we can both say we’ve been kissed. We can act like normal teenagers.”

As weird as the idea was, Mitch didn’t mind it. Besides, out of all the girls he could be kissing, he didn’t mind it being Clementine. She was bad-ass, and strong, and assertive. He already admired her. She wasn’t a bad choice.

In fact, he would even say she was a great choice.

“Alright,” he finally sighed, standing upright. “Let’s do it.”

Mitch was expecting it to be awkward and flustered, like he remembered seeing in those corny teenage romance movies his sisters loved to watch. Where the two blush, and giggle, and impishly kiss each other before melting into little puddles.

Instead, Clementine closed the gap between them, cupped his cheeks, and planted her lips to his.

She had force, but was still soft. The firm way she held his face and the right way she leaned against his chest was strong, powerful, but nothing like the gentle way her lips hugged his.

So, he snaked his arms around her and tugged her closer.

It felt good. Right. Like Clementine was perfectly made for the notch in his chest and the crook in his neck — the perfect contrast to everything he was.

And then, they snapped away.

Their grips held for a new moments longer, Clementine’s hands still brushing his face and Mitch’s arms still locked around her hips. Their faces were red, and warm, and tinted with buried affection creeping to the surface.

Then, Mitch cracked a toothy grin. “Does that make this our prom?”

Clementine, for the first time since nightfall, laughed. Heartily, and happily, and with her whole body. “I guess you can say that.”

Mitch smiled.

He knew he would. ---------♥️♥️♥️----------

[thatfairyfangirl]

True Colors Chapter 12

“Young lady you came all this way to see your family! Sit down for dinner. Those hooligans you call friends can wait.” Your mother scolded you as you and Bucky were halfway out the door for the night. Your eyes closed as you turned, you were so close...

“Mom, I was kinda planning on taking Bucky for his first authentic cheesesteak...I’ll have dinner with you guys tomorrow, I promise.” You protested as you slowly walked back inside, knowing resistance was futile.

“There’s always tomorrow, it’s alright Doll.” Bucky offered in an attempt to smooth things over as fast as possible, planting a soft kiss on your cheek for appearances that made your heart flutter just a bit. As you watched him take a seat at the table you realized that the feel of his lips against your flesh actually got a reaction out of you...what the hell is wrong with you?!

~ ~ ~ ~

“So (Y/N), how did you two even meet?” Your Nana asked, never taking her eyes off of Bucky as the two of you set the table for dinner.

“Well that’s actually the other part of the surprise.” You drew in a nervous breath as you pushed your rainbow hair back. Your mom and Nana exchanged frightened looks, wondering what new ways their little girl would find to let them down now. “I’m not just a musician anymore…”

“Oh good lord you finally started dancing at that God-awful club haven’t you?” Your mom cried out as she threw her face into her hands. “I knew it! The second I saw you on the news I knew your days of finding a decent job were over!”

“No mom.” You grumbled. “I don’t even DJ there anymore. I’m...I’m an Avenger now.” You straightened your back attempting to look as heroic as possible. The two burst into laughter at the idea.

“Oh Darling why must you always feel the need to lie to us?” Nana asked as she sat herself down. “Your little color...thing is a nice trick and all but hardly what heros are made of. Now Captain America, now there’s a hero-” and off Nana went yet again droning on and on about how much she loved him back during the war.

“No, really...What do you think they taught us at mutant school?”

“...not as if Captain America ever needed help from the Germans to be great like some people.” Nana continued her rant to herself, catching Bucky’s attention.

“Actually, ma’am,” His brow creased as the plates of his arm tensed up. “Captain Rogers’ serum was developed by Abraham Erskine, a German, and first used on Johann Schmidt. A man you might know better as the Red Skull. A man I had the honor of fighting against alongside Captain Rogers.” His eyes were like ice as he looked from one horrible woman to the other.

Nana dismissed what Sergeant Barnes had to say as she set a roast beef on the table...not exactly traditional Christmas but she’d be darned if she was going to make that twice! “(Y/N), why don’t you do your color thing to cover up Bucky’s arm for dinner so we don’t upset your Nana?” Your mom suggested lightly.

“Umm, no.” Each woman looked up to you as if you had just blasphemed, eyes wide with shock and anger. One would think this was the first time you flat out told them no. “I have been working very close with Bucky about getting over insecurities about that arm…You both are being just as ignorant and small minded with Bucky as you have been with me ever since I got my powers.” You pushed a fist into the table as the wood swirled with an angry red. “It’s fine for me. I’ve dealt with the both of you delivering me backhanded and mean comments all my life. So we’re different. So what? I’m still your daughter.” You could feel angry tears swelling up inside you, very certain you were about to burn two bridges. As you spoke a cool metal hand came to rest on your shoulder offering you comfort as his eyes looked on you as if he was truly seeing who you were for the first time. Your heart fluttered as you thought back over the past few months, about how the relationship between the two of you has gone from loathing to whatever was going on here. “And if you ever loved me, even a little, then you would at least give him a chance. Cuz the thing is,” you paused looking to him, “he makes me happy and he treats me right. And that’s all that you really should care about. That’s all Dad would have cared about. But you’re both so shallow and calloused and angry at life that you-” You pushed yourself from the table as something in you found the breaking point with these two, staring daggers into the two bitter old women. “If you can’t see that this is my life and my choices then you better start keeping an eye on the news, because it’s the only place you’ll be seeing me.” And with that you pushed yourself up, storming up the stairs to your room.

Bucky looked between the two with a look that struck fear into their hearts, a look worse than that of the Winter Soldier. Suddenly he realized why she was so upset things with Eric never worked out, and where that initial anger he once saw in her came from. He began to wonder if anyone had ever shown her real love before. “You two should be ashamed of yourselves.” As he circled the table they made sure to stay opposite him, as if a table ever stopped him before. “(Y/N) is beautiful just the way she is, and so strong! Your daughter is the new face of the mutant rights act…Quite literally THE reason Captain America is currently free to be a hero… I may not know either of you very well but I can obviously see that she didn’t get any of her amazing traits from you. All (Y/N) has ever wanted from either of you is for you to be proud of her and accept her for who she is...Though, after meeting you I don’t think I’ll ever understand why, or how something so bright and beautiful came from the two of you. But the world is better for having her.”

The two old bitter women just stood there as the assassin pushed past them, leaving them to wonder if they had lost their daughter forever as he rushed up to your room to make sure you were alright.

He opened the door to find you sitting on the bed wiping tears from your face as you clung to what used to be your favorite stuffed bear, hearing wonderful things that Bucky had said through the vent leading to the kitchen. “Hey no...none of that.” Bucky’s face softened at the sight of your tears with long rushed steps to come sit by your side. As he lowered onto the bed you flung your arms around him, loving him for always coming to your rescue. He whispered softly shhs into your ear as his strong hand stroked up and down your back.

“If I ever end up as bitter and heartless as either of them please just shoot me.” You half joked after some time of the feel of his arms around you comforting you.

“I promise.” You gave a half laugh at the response as you sat up, wiping the last of the tears away.

“Wow Buck. Didn't think you have it in you to shoot me.” You teased with a growing smile.

He shrugged. “Maybe when we first met... but I know you better than that. And I'm sure it'll never come to that.” You tried hard to ignore the pitter patter of your heart fluttering as he planted a comforting kiss to your temple.

~ ~ ~ ~

“Did you mean that Doll?” Bucky asked as he watched the sun set over the city skyline. “What you said to your mom I mean.”

You nodded a bit as you thought about the argument, though your mind seemed to want to settle on the time you both spent on the couch watching the claymation classics together and how warm he was. “Yeah...I really couldn’t ask for a better boyfriend….umm friend pretending to be my boyfriend.” Your eyes darted from the road to him, catching a glimpse of the smile dancing across his lips. “What about you? Did you mean what you said?”

“Yeah.” He answered smoothly as his smile grew, finding you even more gorgeous under the growing nightlights of the city. He reached his hand to yours, brushing his calloused thumb over your knuckles before drawing them to his lips. “Every word.” You pulled your hand away as you felt your heart skip several beats at the feel of his lips. It was bad enough he said such nice things, but to know he actually meant them…

“My friends know that we’re not really dating, that it’s all for mom and nana, so at least we don’t have to worry about keeping up appearances.” You told him as you straightened your back, trying to take back control of your head and your heart. “But the real question is can you sing?” Bucky’s brow raised at the question as you pulled up to the curb by a small building surrounded by metal picnic style tables topped with a giant glowing sign. You shot him a smirk as you got out, prompting him to quickly follow.

A small group at one of the tables rose as they spotted your keleidoscopic hair dancing in the wind as they shouted your name. With a beaming smile you greeted them by waving both your hands in the air before absentmindedly grasping Bucky’s hand, pulling him to the order window. “Yeah, two wit whiz and two cokes.” The words slid off your tongue as you fell into the old ordering habit like you were only there yesterday, free hand sliding into your pocket to pull out the money not needing to wait for a total to be given.

“Were those even words?” He asked with a chuckle as his fingers wrapped just a bit tighter around yours, finding just how comfortable they were there. “What did you even order me?” Bucky looked down to the sandwich dripping with cheese, feeling his stomach churning a bit as you both sat down with your small circle of friends. “What is this?”

“Just eat it.” You laughed as you picked up yours, reveling in the familiar taste of home. “Mmmm Pat’s I miss you more every time I leave.” You said to the sandwich before watching Bucky take his first bite of the authentic Philly classic.

“So this is the guy you’re not dating?” One of the girls asked, putting air-quotes around ‘not dating’ as she raised a suspicious brow.

“Oh! Right! Everyone, this is Bucky. Bucky this is Mary, Natalie, Cyndi, and Grace.” As you spoke the names you pointed to each of your friends, Mary being the suspicious one. “Honestly Tony was supposed to be playing the part but work happened at the last possible second so…”

The girls shared knowing glances with each other, dissecting the way you and Bucky looked at each other, finding every one of your tells as you tried your best to suppress that spark of feeling hiding deep within. “So why do you need to know if I sing?” Bucky asked as he looked over the girls, feeling much more like he was being studied then acquainted with.

After dinner the group moved from the table to a nearby bar offering karaoke and suddenly the question finally made sense. “So how long have you two been a thing?” Mary whispered with a devious smirk as you watched Bucky wander from the table to get everyone their drinks, your eyes lingering just a little too long.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” You insisted as you flipped through the karaoke music selection.

“Oh please! I’ve been your best friend since we were two! The last time you looked at a guy like that was,” she paused for a moment to think of his name, “Ryan Weiss!” Your back stiffened as the name brought back memories of your middle school crush.

“You love him!” Natalie insisted as the rest of the girls nodded in agreement.

“I really don’t. He’s just a teammate.” You insisted as you watched him attempt to get the bartender's attention amid all the blue and yellow of the university students flooding the place. “And a really good friend.” The corners of your lips curled up against your will as he turned triumphant, glasses and bottles in hand. The girls shared glances, amazed that their friend could be this oblivious to what she’s feeling.

“Oh! But you really do!”

“Really do what?” Bucky asked with the absent minded grin she seemed to be giving him more and more.

“Lo-oww!” Your face pursed as you kicked Cyndi into silent submission.

“LIKE the idea of singing one of the songs from the album...A few of them are on the list already. I mean, at that point it’s not even kareoke anymore right?”

“Well, you’re always one for publicity. I’ll record it for you to put on that me tube thing” He offered as he set the drinks down.

“It’s called youtube.” You corrected as he leaned over you, his long hair brushing against your cheek as he looked over the list of songs, your scent intoxicating to him. Stubble brushed against your cheek as he shook his head, disappointed that the one he really liked wasn’t on there.

“Aww that’s a shame. They don’t have my favorite. Do you have your flashdrive on you? I could really go for hearing that slow one you do.. umm… “ He paused as he searched his mind for the hauntingly beautiful voice he heard while he was in the shower last night, digging for the words. “I understand you, we see eye to eye double rainbow...Something like that?”

The girls giggled as they watched your back stiffen and your muscles tense once more. Your eyes took on a deer in the headlights level of panic as you looked up to him. “That song wasn’t on the album. How do you know about that?”

“Umm…” He didn’t realize he wasn’t supposed to know about that! “We live across the hall from each other and you still don’t seem to understand how headphones work.” Well that was the best excuse he could come up with anyway. His bionic arm gave you a playful shove as your friends noted the nervous look in his eyes. “And I may have heard you singing it while I was in the shower last night?” The giggles continued as they spotted the hint of pink growing in your cheeks and hair.

“Oooh special song! Please (Y/N)?!” The girls began chanting ‘do it’ drawing attention from everyone around them as people finally began to realize who you were.

“Ok! Ok!” You laughed before chugging the drink Bucky had brought you. “Just...Stop!” You sauntered to the karaoke dj and pulled out your flashdrive, explaining the situation to him, quietly begging him to say no so you could go on with your night...Too bad he was a fan and now wanted to hear it just as much as everyone else.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ibl7owfLpjg Your powers were in full swing as you sang, creating a subtle yet spectacular lightshow of rainbows as the colors in your hair took on more pink hues, giving away your feelings to those who knew you well enough to notice the mood-ring-esc properties of your body. It wasn’t something Bucky had picked up on yet, but the girls certainly knew what it meant.

As you stepped down from the stage Bucky left your phone with the recorded video on the table for you to do with as you liked before wandering off once more to get you a new drink and maybe empty the tank while he’s up.

“You even wrote a song for him! That’s so cute! You are so in love!” Mary prodded at you as you sat back down.

“No! I’m not!” You searched for a drink avoiding eye contact as you gnawed at your lower lip, the redness in your cheeks growing with each second. “That wasn’t about him.”

“(Y/N) and Bucky sitting in a tree, K-I-S-”

Seeing Bucky reemerge from the crowd you jumped up, rushing the DJ booth once more. “I’ll give you $20 if you let me pick a song and sing it right now!” He was more than happy to let you sing whatever you wanted whenever you wanted to. This one looked like it would get the point across.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Yl6Yyl7iZhs

As you sang you realized the mistake you made. Of all the times to slip musically this was the worst! Bucky’s crystal blue eyes sparkled as he watched you belt out the tune he recognized from that disney movie. “What going on?” He asked the girls as he sat back down, a little concerned for his rainbow’s sanity at this point. “I thought she didn’t want to sing anymore?”

“She’s failing at making a point of how-” she threw up the air quotes “not in love with you she is.”

“Oh ok.” Bucky’s eyes went wide choking on his drink as the words settled into him. “Wait what?! She…!”

“Oh my god you’re just as bad as her!”

You shot the girls a stare scarier than Bucky could have mustered even in his winter soldier days as you sat back at the table, the rest of the bar applauding your talent. “I hate all of you!” Bucky’s eyes were fixated on yours, his jaw hanging open in wonder. You raised a brow giving him a double take, confused about everything written on his face right now. “What? You’re acting like you’ve never heard me sing before…”

“Your turn! Your turn!” The girls scrambled to shake him by the shoulder, pushing him toward the small stage. His eyes darted around the room, overwhelmed by everything he had taken in tonight before rushing for the door. Maybe some fresh air would bring his heart rate back down to normal.

[somemellifluouswords]

Don’t Wait Up

As he pulled into the driveway, he sighed in relief. He pulled the keys from the ignition, the loud music playing during the drive home to fade out his negative thoughts abruptly stopping. Now the only sound that could be heard was of the downpour of rain, hard and loud.

He ran to the porch shielding himself under the roof from the rain, as he fumbled with his keys. The porch light above his head swung back and forth, the light flickering every few seconds.

He cursed, as a key he tried didn’t fit the lock. He continued to fumble with his keys, until they fell out of his hands. He groaned in frustration.

He leaned his head against the front door, sighing yet again. His whole body was tense. He shut his eyes, trying to drain out the negative energy. But it felt impossible.

It had been a long day. A long, tiring and downgrading day. And he was so tired. All he wanted to do was end the day by sleeping.

Sleeping with you in his arms.

He took a deep breath, pushing himself off the door. He kneeled down to pick up his keys and when the key turned and the familiar “click” was heard, he was relieved.

His eyes were on the ground as he stepped in, shuttling the door softly behind him. He kicked off his shoes, dropping his jacket to the ground, too tried to bother putting anything away. He dropped his keys onto the small table by the front door, finally turning around.

And when he did, his heart softened. His body relaxed. He felt as if he were suddenly not as exhausted as he was seconds go.

The world felt like it had stopped spinning, the downpour outside frozen in its place, the swinging porch light too.

Because there you were, fast asleep on the couch.

You had brought out a cushion to lay your head on, your hair sprawled over it. In your hands was a classic novel, one he knew you read when you wanted to stay awake late nights. Nights where he would be coming home late, and you wanted to be awake for when he came through the door. His eyes moved to your body, your chest rising and falling rhythmically. You were still in the cardigan and dress he had left you in during the morning. You hadn’t bothered to cover yourself with a blanket, and he knew you hadn’t, because you didn’t want to get too comfortable, worried about falling asleep before he came home.

He chuckled. His tired eyes lively, his divine features finally moving into a happy expression, and his heart warm. Swiftly he ran a hand through his hair, quietly making his way towards you.

He kneeled down, gingerly unwrapping your fingers from the book. He succeeded, folding a corner of the page to mark your spot and setting the book on the coffee table in front of you.

He turned, debating whether or not to lift you up and carry you to bed. Debating whether or not pull one of his shirts and a pair of pyjama shorts on you, knowing the fabric of your dress was thin, the cardigan not quite warm. And you were always cold.

Always.

He stood then, a decision still unmade, and he made his way to the bedroom. Quickly he peeled off his jeans, pulling on a pair of warm grey sweatpants. He pulled his shirt over his head, leaving him shirtless, his tanned and toned upper body exposed.

As he brushed his teeth, he decided that he would bring you into bed. After finishing up, he quietly made his way back to you.

His strong warm arms scooped you up carefully and swiftly. He took note of your cold skin, holding you closer to his warm body. And just before he took a step, he felt you move.

The contact of warmth and your nostrils filling in with the familiar scent of him comforted you. Your eyes were blurry, as you tried to open them fully, the only light visible the lamp next to the couch. Your back felt sore.

“Hey sleepy head” your eyes fully opened, the familiar deep voice like music to your ears.

He moved again, placing you on the couch, into the corner, between the arm and the back. Your body felt as if it couldn’t move, your limbs frozen. You sent him a sleepy, dreamy smile, and your cold hand reached for him again. When he didn’t reach back fast enough, you dropped your arm limply in your lap.

You just wanted him close to you. His warm body warming your cold one.

He towered over you, a pleasing look on his face. He sat down on the coffee table, leaning towards you.

“I tried staying up for you” you spoke finally, your voice laced with sleep. He chuckled, nodding, his expression soft.

“How was your day?”

His eyes flickered from yours to the ground, clenching his jaw and unclenching fast, and you noticed his change in demeanour.

“Gray?” you whispered concerned.

He turned to meet your loving gaze, grabbing your limp hand in his, kissing it.

“I’ll tell you all about it in the morning.” he began getting up, ready to carry you to bed.

“Right now, I just want to sleep with you close”

You knew when not to push further, because he would tell you. And you could tell it hadn’t been the best day for him. So you nodded, in support.

He lifted you up bridal style, ignoring you when you tried to reason you would walk to bed. He set you on your bed, rummaging through your drawers for pyjama shorts. When he found a pair, he set them next to you along with the shirt he had just removed.

“I’m just gonna check the locks and turn off the lamp and porch light” he said, kissing your cheek before leaving.

You got up, your legs almost giving in. After removing your cardigan and dress you pulled on your shorts and his shirt. His cologne still lingered off the shirt.

He came back in, and you both silently got into bed.

“You cold?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

Your tired eyes met his tired ones, but there was a mischievous look on his face. You nodded slowly, and before you knew it he hovered above you.

His head dipped down to catch your lips in a lazy kiss, yet still filled with love. His hands traveled under your, well his shirt, rubbing your sides. You hummed into the into the kiss, which had become more than just lazy. He smiled against yours lips, teasingly pulling away slowly, his lips now colliding with the soft skin of your neck.

You shuddered under him, your hands filled with the sheets as you crumpled them. He stopped suddenly, pulling away and falling next to you. You released the sheets, your cheeks pink, lips feeling sore, and your body warm.

You turned to face him, edging closer. He smirked, draping an arm across your waist. Your bodies flush, the downpour outside, and the porch light still swinging back and forth.

As you began to drift back to sleep, you felt his hands trace soothing circles at the skin between the waistline of your shorts, and the hem of his shirt he had lifted up slightly to do so. You melted at his touch. “I love you” you whispered. “I love you too” he whispered, drifting off to sleep himself.

[m0onbean]

Rock Paper Scissors

category: flOOOoOoOf

pairing: eunwoo X reader

note: sorry for this delayed post!

As you were nestled in your bedsheets, scrolling through your phone while blasting music, your door was suddenly flung open which greatly startled you. When you looked up in annoyance, you saw your brother Moonbin standing in the doorway.

"My friends are coming over in five minutes. I suggest you look presentable." He turned around to leave but suddenly stopped, and swiveled around to look back at you. "Also, your hair looks awful." Moonbin scrunched his face playfully and slammed the door shut.

You exhaled out of frustration and set your phone down. Moonbin was always making unexpected plans without telling anybody until minutes before. When you sat down in front of your mirror, you examined yourself.

"My hair doesn't look THAT bad..." you murmured to yourself while then proceeding to comb it out nicely. By the time you were finished calming your hair down, the doorbell to your house rung promptly, causing you to scramble to the door.

Moonbin beat you to it, opening it and letting everyone in. You recognized who his friends were, due to their numerous visits to your house. They came in one by one, greeted by Moonbin with a "bro" hug and greeted by you with a polite bow.

Just when you were about to sit down with them after everybody entered, one boy made you freeze in your tracks. The man came in the doorway with a smile that could illuminate this dark universe, and hair that was so flawless it was better than everyone's in the world. He hugged Moonbin and approached you.

Your face was wiped with awe but you bowed to him politely, as you continued to blink, trying to see if your mind was playing tricks on you. Inside, you felt like you were about to burst out in panic just by seeing him. His name is Eunwoo, and he wasn't just some ordinary boy. He was your enormous crush and childhood lover.

When he looked up at you, his lips curled up into a sweet smile that could soften your heart in milliseconds.

"It's been quite a while, (Y/N)." His words tugged at your heart, his voice was so smooth that you slipped.

"Yeah." You breathed. When he gave you one last hug and walked back to where Moonbin and the other boys were, you fell out of the moment. Whenever Eunwoo looked at you or talked to you, you felt like you were floating on top of the world. Most people would think that your obsession was strange, but you actually did feel like you had fallen in love with Eunwoo.

Now that your amazement was washed away, anger started to rise in your blood. How could Moonbin not tell you that EUNWOO was coming over? You would've tried way harder to look nice.

As his friends talked amongst themselves, you took this chance to grab Moonbin by his collar and drag him away. When you managed to drag him into the hallways, you let go of him forcefully. He groaned at the sudden movement and fixed his shirt.

"What the hell (Y/N)?" He spat.

"No, what the hell MOONBIN! You didn't fucking tell me that Eunwoo was coming over!" You threw your hands in the air out of exasperation.

"Well, I'm SORRY but when I told you that 'friends' were coming over, wouldn't you just assume that Eunwoo might be a part of the bunch since we have been good friends since we were little?!"

"Yeah, well, you should've been more specific!"

Moonbin rolled his eyes. "How would I know that YOU didn't want to meet Eunwoo? Do you hate him or something?"

That caught you by shock, for you started to stumble on your words. "W-what? N-no... not like that... W-well..."

Moonbin crooked his eyebrow at you and observed your change in mood. An imaginary lightbulb suddenly lit up in his head as his eyes widened. "You... you like Eunwoo don't you?"

Your eyes shot open as you quickly used your hand to cover his mouth for he said that a little too loudly. "Oh my god! Can't you be a little quieter??"

He used his tongue to lick your hand, causing you to dart your hands back and wipe it on his shirt disgustingly.

"Gross..."

Moonbin laughed at you and started to mock you. "You like Eunwoo~" He sang playfully and danced around while pointing at you.

You swatted his chest out of embarrasment and shushed him violently in fear that the others would overhear your conversation. "Shut up!"

"Anyways..." you continued, "Don't tell anybody... especially not Eunwoo!"

He scoffed, "Duh."

The two of you returned to the living room and sat down where everybody was at, pretending that you two didn’t just have a conversation about your crush on Eunwoo. As you sat down, you couldn't tear your eyes away from him. His eyes crinkled up whenever someone said something funny which was the most attractive thing on Earth.

In the midst of your very um -cough- detailed observations of Eunwoo, you didn't realize that the boys were talking about deciding who should go out of the house and get food. It was until Moonbin kicked your leg that you were brought back to the world.

"(Y/N), join the game." You could see that everybody had their fists up and were ready to play rock paper scissors.

"Oh." You joined and kept playing until two people were left as losers.

To your disappointment, it was decided that Moonbin and Eunwoo had to go together. You tried to lose so you could possibly end up with Eunwoo... but losing Rock Paper Scissors is just as hard as winning it. When Moonbin looked over to see your upset face, he started coughing violently.

"Ah I'm sorry guys... but I'm a little too sick to go outside." He loudy exclaimed while covering his obviously fake coughs.

"Aw, then who will go instead?" Jinjin asked while looking around.

"(Y/N), how about you go?" Moonbin offered and gave you a knowing wink. You rolled your eyes at him but smiled gratefully. Moonbin was quite a wingman.

"Alright." Eunwoo accepted and you nodded in agreement. As the boys shouted some food ideas that you two should get while you guys left, you started to feel nervous about being alone with him. When around people, you were generally a very social person and could hold up conversations. But when around Eunwoo, words can't seem to form and you end up just embarrassing yourself. This started to seem like a horrible idea.

As the two of you walked down the streets, Eunwoo started to chat to fill up the silence. "So... what should we get?"

"Hmm... I'm not sure. The boys suggested that we get beef for them."

"What do YOU want though?"

You tried thinking about it but couldn't seem to find anything you were craving recently. So you decided to use the classic response. "I don't know, anything is fine."

Eunwoo playfully sighed, "So beef?"

"Sure." You started to scold yourself in your head for such a response. Sure. Like what? What kind of an answer? It makes you sound uninterested and aloof...

"Ah... why does it feel so awkward between us now?" Eunwoo suddenly brought up. The question took you back a little.

Because I like you. you wanted to scream.

"We used to be such great friends back then," he reminisced thoughtfully. It made you feel insecure and a little guilty that because of your uncontrollable feelings, your friendship with Eunwoo had gotten distant.

"Yeah..." you agreed. Although you had so many things to confess, it wouldn't be too appropiate to say them right there.

You felt a hand sneak up to yours and fingers intertwining with yours. The feeling made your body freeze. Your heart was pounding loudly in your chest, booming off the streets and about to burst out your chest and run a marathon.

"Let's hold hands, the awkward space between our bodies is bothering me." he explained which let down your hopes a little. You thought for a split second that he was holding your hand to confess his feelings... but you were just being delusional.

While the two of you strolled closer to the beef store, you two started chatting about normal topics. If it wasn't for Eunwoo's social skills, the two of you would've been awkwardly walking in tense silence.

When you two arrived at the shop and paid for the beef, time flied as the two of you were already almost arriving back at home. It was unfortunate how short you two got to talk. It was pleasing having a nice conversation with Eunwoo. The two of you got things off your chests and laughed at eachother's witty comments and jokes.

Since you were curious, you decided to ask Eunwoo about his relationship status.

"So Eunwoo..." you approached carefully.

"Yeah?"

"Are you... dating anyone?"

"No... I haven't been recently." He admitted. You couldn't hold in your relieved sigh.

"Not that anybody would want to date me," Eunwoo muttered and looked down to his feet. That shocked you in many degrees, who wouldn't like Eunwoo? He was the image of perfection: His body, face, and everything is all so breathtaking. His personality is sweet like honey and he's a gentleman too.

"I would."

You quickly clasped your hands over your mouth, in disbelief that you would say such a thing. It quickly grew silent as the two of you froze in your tracks.

"I-I mean, not like I like you or anything. I'm just saying that I WOULD, like you're my ideal type and everything but like not that way I mean-" your rambling was ceased when you felt Eunwoo lean in and close the distance between your bodies.

His lips pressed against yours gingerly but not hesitantly. Your mind couldn't register what was happening, but the feeling was so satisfying and relaxing. You felt your lips move against his.

When Eunwoo let go, you realized that his hands were carefully cradling your face. He was intensely staring at you, which made you squirm under his gaze. 

"I'm so glad your brother is sick today." He breathed.

"What?"

"What?"

[multifandombitxh]

Title: Devil in the Details (ch.5) Pairing: Cassian Andor x Fem!Reader Genre: Angst Warnings: None A/N: I’m not gonna lie, I hated the last chapter lol. I rushed myself too much and it could have been better. You never get better if you give up, though! So I put a lot of effort into this chapter. Hope it’s okay<3 Tag list: @badwolfandtimelords @the-glasses-are-my-disguise @geeky-girl-394  @princeofsassgard @wisestydia14 @seargantbcky @swviolinlorei @jedishrubbery Chapters 1-4: (tumblr) (AO3)

V: Between A Rock and A Hard Place

True to his word, K-2SO was making an effort to “like” you, hard as it was. He was constantly apologizing whenever he made a snide remark, which would be nice if he would stop making them all together. Silver linings, you figured.

You found it pretty strange, though. It was like you were seeing more of the droid than you were of Cassian, but you passed it off as work getting in the way. He’d been especially busy lately so it was impossible to see each other for more than a few minutes at a time. Strangely, K wasn’t nearly as busy, so he kept you company whenever he felt the need. More often than not, he had messages from Cassian to deliver to you, which he hated reciting back. You, on the other hand, thought it was adorable.

“There’s something different about you, Y/N,” K2 said as he walked beside you.

“Different how?” you asked, power walking to keep up, like always.

“You’re glowing,” he replied simply, “Are you pregnant?”

You stopped dead in your tracks.

“I assumed that’s something you and Cassian have been up to. If I’m wrong, please correct me,” he went on.

You held up your hand to stop him. “No, you’re not wrong. I just… I don’t feel pregnant,” you said, looking down at your stomach.

“That may be something to consider,” he said.

“I’m not pregnant, K.”

“I still look forward to being an uncle someday.”

You rolled your eyes and opened the door to the infirmary. “I’ll see you later today. Give Cass my best, okay?”

“Before you go,” he said, making you halt your movements. “There’s something very important I need to tell you.”

You looked between him and the medical bay, trying to gauge how much time you could get away with. It was relatively empty that morning so you decided to humor him.

“Okay,” you said, letting the door shut. “Tell me.”

“When you first met Cassian,” he began, “He tried to kill you, didn’t he?”

You shrugged. “Kind of. He basically shoved a blaster in my face, so…”

“He was going to kill you when you returned him to me,” K said abruptly, “He changed his mind when he realized he’d forgotten the Intel we were there to gather.”

“Wait, what?” you asked, half chuckling at the statement. He had to be joking.

“He planned to gain the Empire’s secrets through you, because we were empty handed.”

Your eyebrows drew together as you tried to make sense of his words. Your Cassian, the man you’d fallen so deeply in love with, had lied to you from the start? If that really were the case, who was to say it wasn’t all a lie?

“However, he changed his mind again, that indecisive idiot. Cassian loves you, he never lets me forget. It’s quite disgusting at times,” he continued, “But he hid the truth from you to spare your feelings. I thought you should know if you’re really serious about him.”

“Thanks for telling me, K,” you said, lost in your thoughts. You turned to walk away when he stopped you again.

“Please, don’t hurt him,” he said, “He may be an idiot, but he is still my friend.”

You nodded and entered the infirmary, your mind racing. Needless to say, the whole conversation left you uneasy and made it hard to focus on your work. Doing the best you could didn’t seem to be cutting it, but it was all you could do not to dash out of the room to ask Cassian for the truth.

The way you saw it, when you did confront him, there would be hell to pay.

By the end of the day, you were itching the leave work to find out what was really going on. You believed K2, he wouldn’t lie to you like that. He was physically incapable of it, actually. Because of this, you began to question your judgement of Cassian and if you’d rushed into things too quickly with someone you barely knew.

He greeted you with his classic smile and embrace, both of which you returned half-heartedly. Sensing your discomfort, he grabbed you by the shoulders and caught your gaze.

“Are you alright?” he asked, searching your face for answers.

“I need to talk to you about something,” you said, swallowing the rock in your throat. “It’s important.”

Cassian nodded and led you back to the living quarters, his own anxiousness growing as well. The silence that accompanied the walk made him uncomfortable and suspicious. K-2SO wouldn’t have told you, he thought to himself. There was no way he would actually do that, not to him.

Right?

The door to your bedroom shut behind you and you took a deep breath, running both hands through your hair and letting them stop at the base of your neck. Your eyes were dropped to the floor and Cassian watched you pace, so he leaned his back against the wall and waited for you to begin.

“K told me something this morning,” you said, sitting on the edge of your bed.

Cassian felt his heart drop from his chest to his foot and onto the floor.

“He said that you really were going to kill me when we first met,” you continued, “Then that you changed your mind and wanted to get information out of me, since…”

“Since your mother is an Imperial General,” he ended your sentence for you.

You nodded and stared down at your hands. “Was he lying?”

He sighed and looked around the room, at anything and everything that wasn’t you. “No.”

“How long were you pretending?” you asked, your voice and hands shaking.

“One day.”

“Don’t lie to me, Cassian, please.”

“I’m not,” he said, moving to stand in front of you. “I fell in love with you in one day, barely even that.”

You sighed and dropped your head into your hands, your fingers massaging your forehead to keep the oncoming headache at bay. “I can’t believe this.”

“I should have told you,” Cassian sighed shakily, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I knew this would happen.”

A tense and deafening silence fell over the room as the two of you organized your thoughts. You thought for sure he could hear your heart racing in your chest through the silence, considering how loud it was in your ears. He couldn’t, because his was just as loud. The world could have been ending and neither of you would have heard it.

“How can I make this right?” he asked softly.

“I don’t think you can,” you replied, “Why couldn’t you have just said something? I would have understood, Cassian. Why did you have to lie to me?”

“I didn’t lie,” he stuttered, kneeling down in front of you. “I just… didn’t tell you the whole truth. I couldn’t, it would have crushed you.”

“I have been used my entire life,” you began, emphasizing your words. “I have been lied to, taken advantage of, made to feel small and insignificant and like I didn’t matter. You made me feel like I was more than what the galaxy thought I was. For the first time since my dad disappeared, I didn’t feel hopeless. Now I’m losing everything all over again because you don’t know how to communicate.”

Cassian sighed and ran a trembling hand through his hair. “You’re not the only one who’s losing something here.”

“That’s your own fault,” you hissed, narrowing your eyes at him. “I didn’t ask for this.”

He dropped his gaze to the floor and stood. “I know you didn’t.”

“Then why keep it from me?” you asked, “Look at me, Cass. Look me in the eye and tell me I deserved this.”

When his eyes locked with yours you felt your insides collapse in on themselves. It was a look you’d seen only once before that shook you to the core. It was the same look he had on his face when he stumbled into the infirmary and pointed a gun in your face. That same pained, angered, and afraid expression.

“You didn’t deserve any of this.”

“Then tell me why.”

He stepped closer, so you stood to match his height. His face was mere inches from yours as he spoke. “I never told you because I loved you enough to spare you the pain. You’d lost enough, and I was going to take even more from you. Be glad I changed my mind.”

“Now you want me to thank you?” you scoffed, pushing him back gently. “All you did was delay the pain, Cassian. It would have hurt less if you’d told me before any of this started.”

“So help me make it right,” he said, his tone softening. “Let me fix this, Y/N. I can’t lose you.”

“You want to fix it? Fine,” you said, pushing past him toward the door. “You can fix it by leaving me the hell alone.”

Cassian stared at you in shock, his heart hammering in his chest and his lungs malfunctioning. His worst nightmares were coming to life right in front of his eyes and he couldn’t stop them, try as he did.

There was no question about it. You wouldn’t forgive him, just as he’d predicted.

You opened the door and looked at him expectantly. Hesitantly, he began to leave, but not before leaning in and whispering a final, “I love you,” followed by an, “I’m sorry.”

Once he was gone, you laid in your bed, face down in your pillow and trying to piece your sanity back together. It was hard to tell where the pain began and the anger ended, so all of it melded together into one big haze of tears and tremors. You began to question whether or not you’d made the right choice as you slipped under your covers, the tears on your cheeks growing cold.

Was it really worth it? Was it really worth losing the man whom you loved and who was your only friend over? The line between right and wrong became blurry as you laid there in silence. Taking in shallow breaths and placing your hand on your abdomen, memories of your conversation with K-2SO that morning flooding your already troubled mind

If there was the chance that you were pregnant- which was very likely- it would need to be verified and addressed. You’d have to tell Cassian you were carrying his child, and you just weren’t prepare for that. A sick feeling settled in your gut as you imagined the outcome. You shook the thought from your head and turned onto your side, pulling your sheets up past your mouth and taking a deep breath through your nose. Things would only get worse, there was no denying that. At very least, you could get even a sliver of sleep while you still could, so you did.

When the door slammed shut behind him, Cassian truly felt the gravity of the situation weigh down on his shoulders. He’d finally found someone he could trust and open up to, and he ruined it, as always. There had to be something he could do to win back your trust, and he was determined to figure out what that something was.

An idea flashed into his mind as he wandered the halls. It was a glimmer of an idea that relied on odds that were against him, but it was the best he had. If he could pull it off, there would be no doubt in your mind that he could be trusted. As quickly as he could, he made his way up the stairs and into the meeting room where he found several of the rebel leaders, all of which gave him a disapproving look as he burst into the room.

“Captain Andor, this is a private meeting, what are you-”

“I need everything we have on Y/N’s father.”