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shadowbriar · 4 months

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James Potter - Traitor

Pairing : James Potter x (she/her) Reader Word Count : 1.9k Warning : Cliffhanger (sort of). Not proofread as always. Synopsis : As gracious and angelic Lily Evans is, she couldn’t help but to see her as some villain who might steal him away. Notes : Inspired by this request and Olivia Rodrigo - Traitor. Pretty sort as I don't know if anon would like a happy or sad ending? If you like this story and would like to support me, please visit my kofi page and perhaps get me a coffee?☕ James Potter's Masterlist click here. Taglist : @jsjcue @ell0ra-br3kk3r @sofiacblair @coffeehurricanes @ineedmentalhelp123

She should’ve known better. She should’ve known that when he pulled that stunt at the Great Hall, proclaiming his feelings and just how desperate he’s been to get her attention, that it was only a projection of the words he wanted to confess to another. She should’ve known that when he looked at her with those eyes that were filled with love, it would never compare to the affection he hoards for another. She should’ve known that with every promise, every sweet nonsense he whispered to her ears, they were truly addressed for another.

The signs were laid bare for her to see. From the way he stopped holding her hands in the hallway to making up excuses and cancelling their dates. His kisses have turned into quick pecks before they’re gone altogether. The jokes he used to share have stopped coming. Dissipating into thin air with no warning.

Supposedly it was her fault. She should’ve said something, calling him out from the lack of effort he’s been showing but she knew she was pulling on a thin thread. Their relationship has always been based on a frail foundation. She knew that deep down there was no other woman that could topple his first love, so she kept quiet. Crying herself to sleep and praying to whoever might listen out there to help salvage their relationship. Anything to keep him just a little bit longer.

“Love, you left your hair tie in my room,” James says once he takes a seat, busying himself with the stack of pancakes in front of him.

She takes the unassuming item and examines it. This hair tie wasn’t hers. She doesn’t have bright orange hair ties, “This isn’t mine, James.”

“Oh,” He responded, taking the item and placing it in his pocket nonchalantly “Must be Lily’s then.”

“Lily?”

“Yeah, we had an impromptu study session last night after our rounds. She helped me with my potion essays.”

“But we promised to do that essay together,” She says, forcing a smile as she tries her best to conceal her disappointment and heartbreak “I waited for you to have some free time so we can work on it together.”

“Yes well, like I said, it was an impromptu session. We finished our rounds earlier than expected so we figured we could use the free time to do the assignment.” He explained, still oblivious to the harm done to her heart “Shouldn’t you be proud I’ve finally managed to finish an assignment earlier than due? This is a huge improvement for me, don’t you think?”

Her head nods, another pretend smile decorating her face. James looks happy and proud of his achievement. It was true. When else would you find James Potter diligently working his schoolwork? He’s always been one of those students who waits for the adrenaline rush of working everything at the last minute. He’s brilliant, perhaps too brilliant to ever spare an hour in revising his notes and making flashcards for the upcoming exams, so this certainly is a huge improvement to celebrate for. If only it wasn’t because of Lily.

“You’ve been spending more time with Lily, lately.” She points out. Her hands were shaking, knowing that the pool she’s stepping in might be deeper than it seems and she might not know how to swim to the shore but she needed to start somewhere. She needs to save their relationship somehow.

James’ brows furrow, a slight sign of disagreement, “Not really. Our rounds just happened to be scheduled together a lot this month.”

“Well, you also cancelled our study date last week for her.”

“Yeah, that’s because she needed my help with Divination.”

A rude laughter escapes her, “You’re the worst from our House in Divination, James. She doesn’t need your help.”

“Where are you going with this?” He finally snaps, turning to face her with evident annoyance in his eyes “I thought you would be happy with me finally trying to fix my grades.”

“I am. I just didn’t realise that needed to be done by increasing the amount of time you share with your ex-crush.”

“Oh, so you’re jealous?”

She was quiet now. Sure it was jealousy that plagued her mind the first time he began drifting away but these days, these days she’s only been insecure and worried for their sinking ship. Anxiety over the chance of her being replaced by someone who has always had his heart has been haunting her nights. As gracious and angelic Lily Evans is, she couldn’t help but to see her as some villain who might steal him away.

“You’re being paranoid, again.” James scoffs, turning completely blind and deaf to her silent agony “There’s nothing going on between me and Lily. I’m trying to fix my grades for me. She just happens to be a great teacher and companion to help me study.”

She's still quiet, weighing if she should believe his words.

"Please, I don't want to fight," James sighs, dropping the fork on his hand and taking hers to show his sincerity "She's just a friend, I promise."

There was truly nothing left for her to say that wouldn’t act as petrol to their burning bridge. James wasn’t listening. For a while now he hasn’t truly cared about a word she’s said and it was painful to finally understand this. That he might never have been as sincere as she thought him to be. Or perhaps he did, once, yet that feeling has died a long time ago with no chance of revival. His feelings for her have withered, faded into nothingness.

And it’s only a matter of time before the flame in her heart dies too.

—-

It was a nasty fall.

She couldn’t remember the last time she felt this much worry and cried so much from something Madam Promfrey claims as ‘nothing but a light nudge on the head’, but she was there when the bludger hit his head. She was there when James began losing balance of his broom and falling to the hard ground. She was there when the team crowd around their passed out captain.

Her eyes were getting heavy now. The watch on her wrist has shown that she has skipped dinner a few hours ago. Some of the lights on the hospital wing have been turned off, making the hall darker as night falls deeper. If it wasn’t for the boys coming to visit James half an hour ago, she would be left starving and secretly creeped out by the eerie feeling of the infirmary.

“You should get some rest, Love, you’ve been waiting here for hours.” Remus advises, giving her shoulder a slight squeeze.

“He should be up anytime soon, now,” She reasoned as she looked up to see the tall boy “I want to be there when he wakes up.”

“Trust me, Dove, knowing Prongs, he might just sleep in till tomorrow,” Sirius added “Besides, you won’t miss a thing. He’ll still be the same obnoxious Potter tomorrow morning.”

A small curl of smile tugs on her lips.

“Come on, I’ll walk you back to your dorm.” Peter offers this time.

“You don’t have to, Wormy. I’m fine—”

“Dove, please,” Sirius begs “You look awful. And I mean this in the most endearing way but you could really use a bath.”

“Thank you, Pads,” She rolls her eyes, finally standing from her seat and glaring at the raven haired boy “Your honesty is always something I could count on, even in the darkest time.”

Sirius grins, nodding, “I am a man of honour.”

“Let me know if anything happens? If he wakes up?”

“We will,” Remus reassures “Goodnight, Love.”

With a last bid of hug and ignoring the still awful churning feeling in her gut, she links arm with Peter and walks out of the hospital wing. It’s been hours since she’s waited for her boyfriend to wake up from his sleep and the fatigue plaguing her body has only been recognised as she takes further steps away from the infirmary. Perhaps the worry has amplified the soreness of her muscles. It’s never an easy life dating the Captain of Gryffindor team.

She hates to admit it, but she might really need that bath Sirius was talking about.

And just when they were about to exit the tower, her brain reminded her of her left satchel, “Shoot, I forgot something.” She groans, letting out a frustrated sigh “Give me ten minutes?”

“Is it that important?” Peter asks “We can just bring it to you later.”

“I’ll be quick, I promise. I have to finish my paper for the first period tomorrow, I need to get my satchel.”

Peter only nods at her as she begins running back to the ward. Truth be told, she’s finished the paper as she waited for James earlier. Leaving her satchel was completely by accident and she could’ve just continued walking back to her dormitory and ask the boys to bring it to her later, but why would she pass up a chance to see her boyfriend one last time?

“So did she come?”

A smile blooms on her face as she hears James’ voice echoes faintly. He’s up.

“Of course she did, she waited for you for hours.” Sirius answers “She’s your girlfriend, Prongs, she never left.”

“Oh,” James answered, the disappointment dripping from his tone slows down her steps “I was asking about Lily, actually.”

There was a pause. She could see Sirius and Remus exchanging a glance from behind their backs. If it wasn’t for the curtain blocking James’ view, he would’ve seen her coming.

“So did she come?” James asks again.

“No, Prongs. Why would she come?” Remus asks, his tone slightly rising in annoyance.

“I don’t know,” James answers “I thought we were getting closer. I just figured she’d want to check on me.”

“Well, she didn’t,” Sirius says this time, the same level of irritation evident in his tone “Why are you even thinking of her? You have a brilliant girlfriend who cares for you. Who literally spent hours sitting on that awful chair, worried about your bonked head, and the first thing you asked about when you woke up was Lily?”

“It was just a question, Pads. No need to get all worked up on me.”

“Well, your question is rubbish, Prongs.”

“Why are you—”

“Hey guys,” She says, finally showing herself from behind the curtain “Sorry, I left my satchel. Oh, hello James, you finally woke up.”

She could see the surprise on James’ eyes that he quickly blinked away with a sweet smile, “Hello, Darling.”

“I’m glad you’re up. Are you feeling okay?”

“Still dizzy, but I’ll live.” He says warmly “Will you stay with me tonight?”

“Uh, no, I need to finish my papers.” She says instead, fighting the loud ringing in her ears from the heartache “Besides, you need all the rest you could get. I wouldn’t want to bother you.”

“But you wouldn’t—”

“I really need to go. Peter is waiting for me,” She cuts in “Good night, James.”

She glances at Remus and Sirius for a brief moment. Staring at them for too long would make all the dam she’s trying to uphold break lose and the last thing she’d want to do tonight would be to cry in front of James. No, she would not give him that satisfaction. It is one thing to deny and avoid all of her questions and another to actually dismiss her presence. Perhaps it's time for her to accept that the heart James wears on his sleeve was never hers to begin with.

As she walks out of the infirmary for the second time tonight, she could hear Sirius’ curse faintly, “You’ve lost her for good now, Prongs.”

#james potter #james potter scenario #james potter scenarios #james potter imagine #james potter imagines #james potter fanfiction #james potter fanfic #james potter angst #james potter oneshot #james potter request #james potter x you #james potter x reader #james potter x y/n #james potter x oc

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upon-a-starry-night · 13 days

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Love Favors The Misfortunate

Natasha Romanoff x Gender-Neutral Reader

Natasha Masterlist Main Masterlist

Word count: 3.2k

Warnings: Minor Violence

Summary: Misfortune always seems to follow you no matter what you do. But where there’s trouble, Nat often follows, maybe love was on your side after all?

Disclaimer: This was part of a writing exercise I did so it’s kind of silly and unedited but enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~~~

Somehow you always managed to wind up in the worst situations that Earth could possibly experience. You wondered if you were just cursed or something considering last week you were present for not one but two bank robberies.

Maybe that was just the life of a delivery driver?

You hoped the lady behind the bank counters Caesar salad tasted better after death threats and salty tears of desperation.

This time, however, in the middle of checking the GPS during a stoplight, the sound of screams alerts you to the number of people ditching their cars and running past your motorcycle in fear.

Looking up you see the giant rip in Earth's atmosphere, monster-looking creatures spilling out of the hole.

Oh, Good.

You immediately kick your motorcycle into gear, walking the bike through the crowds of people until you can manage to make a U-turn and speed off, weaving your way through the panic.

You spare a few glances into your mirrors as more flying monsters spill out of the sky and it's during one of these glances that you fail to notice the giant alien who has just landed in the street a few feet ahead of you. By the time you notice him you only have enough time to attempt a full stop which results in your bike sliding from under you and skidding across the pavement. Ouch.

Much to your luck, however, the bike collides directly with the monster and sends it straight into its own spear. A weird purple liquid oozing slowly from underneath the unconscious body.

You frown, it was going to cost a pretty penny to get your bike fixed if it was even salvageable and now you definitely weren’t getting paid for the hamburger and fries that were probably still warm in your delivery bag.

Maybe you could see if french fries taste better after near-death and motorcycle debt.

Wincing, you feel your arms already bruising and your jeans have ripped through to your thigh, you're not bleeding as much as you probably should be from that slide but it still hurts like hell. Thank god you were wearing all your safety equipment.

A hand is extended out to you and you graciously take it, looking up to meet eyes with the prettiest redhead you’ve ever seen. She’s giving you an impressed smile and you feel like you could melt right then and there. Although that might also be from the burning pain in your leg.

You probably need to find a hospital. Or maybe you were dead and this was an angel.

You always figured they’d look like the horrendous abomination of eyes and wings that they were described as, not as pretty redheads with striking green eyes but you weren’t complaining.

“That was a good move” There are still people running past you screaming but it feels like time stops when she speaks to you.

“Yep. that was definitely something I did on purpose” Drumming your fingers on your thighs you watch her chuckle and give you a look that tells you she knows you did not, in fact, do that on purpose.

You glance between your bike and the woman in front of you, screaming civilians making the moment almost comical. You felt like you were in some kind of rom-com apocalypse.

Despite it being the last thing you should probably do, you extend your hand out to her and tell her your name. She gives you a very amused look and you shrug your shoulders as if to say ‘Why not? We’re here aren’t we?’

She chuckles again as she takes your hand, introducing herself.

Natasha. Derived from the Russian name Anastasia, which means resurrection. Maybe she was an angel. Damn.

Natasha nods her head in the direction of the crowd and smirks “Shouldn’t you be joining them?” You shrug. “Unless you know more moves like that?” She gestures toward your beat-up bike and you shake your head

“No. Unfortunately, I haven't mastered the art of more than one motorcycle trick yet” Not that you could get that thing to start back up again after that anyway.

She shakes her head with a laugh, glancing over her shoulder at the mess the city is becoming before turning back to you. “ Well I guess until you learn you should probably get running”

You nod, a little dejected, your calmness in relativity to the situation was likely the result of a concussion but you weren’t worried. Unless Nat was not real, in that case, you should be worried. Very Worried.

“Will we meet again?” it’s cliche and you immediately feel like a protagonist in a Disney movie but it’s a genuine question.

She smirks and looks around at the city again, gesturing to the absolute clusterfuck that New York had become “For your sake, I hope we don't”

You know she doesn’t mean anything bad by it and it’s your turn to smirk when you say “Knowing my luck, we will” You hope she finds herself near a few banks in the upcoming months…

She smiles at you and nods her head in the direction of the crowd and you understand what she’s trying to tell you. With one final wave and a small “good luck” you run in the direction of your fellow New Yorkers, occasionally glancing back to see her running in the direction of the main battle.

You didn't know who she was but Damn did you want to.

~~~

The next time you find yourself in a particularly unfavorable situation is not for months later. Minus that one time you witnessed two old ladies get mugged and that time you almost got hit by an ice-cream truck. But you got free ice cream from the second one so you weren't counting it.

You’d taken up a job in a small pizza place to pay for your bike repairs. It didn’t pay much but you didn’t have that many options after New York got attacked by aliens and half the businesses were destroyed or temporarily shut down. This is one of the few places still open which means on Friday nights you were busy as hell.

It was not a Friday night. It was a Tuesday afternoon and your coworker who was supposed to be on shift with you called out sick which meant you were manning the shop by yourself. Your stupid coworker was probably just off cheating on his girlfriend again but you didn’t care because the shop was empty which meant you could play games on your phone without his judgmental stare.

You’re struggling through level 5 of Candy Crush when the sound of breaking glass comes from the front of the shop and you sigh. You would be surprised but it was New York, more specifically it was your life in New York.

What you are surprised by, however, is the sight of familiar red hair covered in glass in the entryway, and you really want to rub your eyes with the squeaking sound effect like in the cartoons but the amount of microfibers that just got released into the air would suggest not doing that.

“Well well well” You realize you sound more like a supervillain than you intended and you freeze when she stands and sharply turns in your direction, gun pointed directly at you. You throw your hands up in surrender immediately. Goddamn supervillain catchphrases always making pretty girls turn their guns on you.

When she seems to recognize you she relaxes only for a man to jump through the already broken glass window and tackle her to the ground again. You want to help but considering you still haven't learned any more motorcycle tricks(or any tricks in general) you figure you would probably be useless.

You watch helplessly as she disarms and renders the guy unconscious in a matter of seconds and then stands and dusts herself off. The guy on the ground looks like some old-timey variation of Hitler and you're pretty glad she knocked him unconscious before he could even notice you.

You focus back on Nat who's looking at you like a wounded animal that could run away at any moment and It’s then that you realize that most people are not quite used to these kinds of situations. Clearly, you weren’t like most people. You point to the body in a trenchcoat on the ground as you crinkle your nose

“Are you taking that guy with you when you leave?” She huffs out a laugh and you feel yourself smile at successfully getting her to laugh again.

You, one.

Hitlerman, zero.

At least you were winning one game. Stupid Candy Crush.

She looks around the shabby pizza place and then zones in on your nametag, only them seeming to realize you worked there. She tilts her head, nodding to your flimsy little name pinned to your T-shirt.

“Why are you working here? Where’s the bike?” You sigh, you knew the question was coming but it’s still a sore subject for you. You internally punch a wall but on the outside, you frown just a little. It’s the saddest expression Nat’s seen on your face so far.

“She’s in the shop. Repairs are taking longer than I thought and now I’m forced to conform to my least favorite type of work just to get her back” Nat gives an understanding nod and then cringes a little, walking towards you until she’s right in front of you. She places a hand on your head and you inhale sharply.

A small frown forms on Nat’s face “You’re bleeding”

The feeling of her hand on your face confirms that she’s not an angel or a figment of your imagination and you don’t realize you’ve voiced that thought out loud until you hear Nat barking out a laugh.

“I’m flattered but, well-” She glances up, then behind her, then back towards you “I wouldn’t be so sure just yet” She smirks and removes her hand just as a ceiling panel falls from the roof. Dust flies into the air and you cover your face to avoid getting more shit in your eyes.

When the room finally settles Natasha is nowhere in sight but there’s a Captain America band-aid on the serving counter and you feel a small smile across your face. What a dramatic exit. Now who was the supervillain?

You take great notice of the fact that Hitlerman is also gone and you wonder how the fuck she managed to do that. But more importantly, you hoped this wasn’t coming out of your paycheck.

~~~

You can’t emphasize enough to most people how much you’re not even trying to be in the situations you get caught in. In fact, the one time you stayed home for a week you ended up catching the Flu. How the hell do you catch the flu from staying home? After that, you just accepted that you were a magnet for misfortune and there was nothing you could do about it.

Although, after meeting Nat you found yourself a little excited anytime something misfortunate happened and that was probably psychotic and you should definitely check yourself into a psych ward but you’d probably end up choking on a crayon and getting deemed a risk to those around you so what was the use?

Still, of all the robberies you’d been a witness to you’d never been a part of a hostage situation. Until now. Stupid Banks!

Usually, you’d assume that the police would handle a situation like this and you’d be stuck in this bank for hours until someone grew a dick and negotiated something but this time circumstances were a little different. To start, the guy who was currently robbing the bank was holding some type of gun that was the equivalent of real-life freeze tag.

Anyone who got zapped by the oddly blue glowing gun was frozen in place, which led you to problem number two.

The police had shown up nearly half an hour ago and someone must not have briefed them on this wacko holding you hostage because the second one of them snuck in the back door with a gun he was frozen in place looking like the idiot that he probably was.

You would attempt to grab his gun but you didn’t feel like doing that shit. Who were you to risk your life and try to be a hero for some money that this poor fellow probably needed considering New York's rent cost.

Maybe if the stupid fucker hadn’t frozen the one lady who knew the code to the very comically large bank safe he wouldn’t be stuck making stupid negotiations and holding people hostage.

Instead, you settled against a wall near a bunch of crying civilians and attempted once again to beat level 10 of Candy Crush. You give up after ten minutes and delete the app. Really you were just trying to kill the time until you-know-who showed up.

She and her band of merry men had grown a reputation for taking care of situations that the regular authorities couldn’t and that’s why you weren’t the least bit surprised when the room began to fill with a cloudy white smoke.

Others began panicking, fearing that it was some sort of poisonous gas and you rolled your eyes. This was not poisonous gas, you’d seen poisonous gas and this was not it.

This was a very dramatic entrance formulated by your absolute favorite redhead. God, you felt like you were in a spy movie. Any second now you’d see a faint figure slowly descending from the ceiling in all black with a gas mask on and spy music would start playing.

Any second now.

Aaaaaany second now-

A scream from beside you makes you jolt and you find the sobbing woman next to you with a hand over her mouth. A gruff-looking man is telling her to keep quiet and your eyes widen for a second as you think ‘Oh shit. Double robbery.’ But from behind the gruff-looking man walks a familiar figure and she pats him on the shoulder as she passes him.

You squint your eyes, what an oddly metal-looking shoulder. Perhaps you were hallucinating. Stress and all that.

By this point, enough white smoke has filled the room that the bank robber is wildly swinging around in fear as he squints to see. He’s probably more on edge after that woman's scream as well. Yeeeeah more of a horror movie than a spy movie now.

The reason you can see everyone so well is due to your superior eyesight and definitely not the science lab goggles that you had in your bag for no suspicious reasons. Hey, you had to be prepared for literally anything considering your luck.

Nat’s wearing some kind of night vision-looking goggles and a mask and when she passes you you poke her leg. She jumps a little, glaring at you until she seems to recognize you despite your flawless Lab Scientist disguise and her eyes widen. Her eyes seem to scream ‘What are you doing here’ but you feel it’s too obvious of a question to bother answering.

Instead, you give her the biggest smile you can muster and a friendly wave, mouthing “Hiiii Nat!”

She rolls her eyes but you can see the smile she’s hiding under her mask and you mentally fist pump. Three for three.

You point to the man wielding the gun and mouth to her “Go! Team go!”

She shakes her head, exasperated by your lack of fear and self-preservation but holds her finger up to her mouth telling you to be silent as she turns to sneak up on the man.

Your body does so love disobeying orders though, so it chooses that moment to sneeze, which has the man pointing the gun in your direction (not that he can see as his eyes are practically watering now) and Nat turns to you with a glare.

You raise your hands up in surrender and in an attempt to help, you throw the nearest object on the floor across the room. Oh, that was your phone- well, okay. Either way, it helps, the man swings back in that direction, blasting his gun in the air and Nat takes the moment to attack him from behind.

She disarms him easily, taking him to the ground and placing him in handcuffs. She inspects the device carefully, flipping a switch and aiming it at the closest frozen person. With a bolt of light, they unfreeze and gasp for breath. Good, at least the idiot had created some sort of Ctrl-Shift Undo button.

You're part of the first few escorted out of the building considering you weren’t frozen or in hysterics and the paramedics look at you a little funny but wrap a shock blanket around your shoulders.

Yes, shock. That's what you were experiencing. Normal people things. You twist back and forth and watch the shock blanket sway as you wait for Nat to be done with her serious business. God, serious business was boring and took forever.

When she finally emerges from the building she ignores the press and police that come up to talk to her and heads straight for you. Ha! Eat shit losers.

She doesn’t bother with formalities, why would she? It's you. Instead, she hands you a small black box as she takes in the shock blanket you’ve tied around your neck to look like a cape.

“Here’s your phone” You take the object from her hands and inspect it.

Oh wow, No cracks, that's great. Wait- “This is not my phone” You turn it over and inspect the Stark logo on the back of it. Yeeeeah definitely not yours.

“No, it’s not” She doesn't bother lying to you at least, and you hum in acknowledgment. Well, you weren’t one to pass up a free upgrade. You pocket the phone and stick your hands in your front pockets, flashing her a smile

“So… you come around here often?” She rolls her eyes at your stupid attempt at a joke. Or flirting. Either one works.

“How do you keep ending up in these situations?”

It’s your turn to smirk “Maybe it’s just an excuse to see you?”

She gives you a look that says ‘It better not be’ and you just shrug, your shock blanket falling to the ground. Fucker. Making you look uncool. You refuse to bend down and pick it up. Recovery blankets were for losers anyway.

Still, she smiles at you anyway and crosses her arms “I’m beginning to think the only way to keep you safe is to keep you with me”

Your heart leaps but you pretend to be nonchalant. You're only blushing because of shock or whatever. Play it cool “That doesn’t sound like a bad idea” A stupid smile forces its way onto your face despite your best attempts to repress it and Nat laughs at your stubbornness.

“But first I think we’ve got to teach you some self-defense” She nods her head indicating for you to follow her and you both begin walking in step to an unmarked black car.

Kidnapper car.

Cameras are flashing around you and you think about how cool you’ll look with Lab goggles atop your head and white smoke in your hair on the news tomorrow morning. The media was going to love you.

Turning to Nat on your way to the car, you have a question that’s been itching at you that you feel the need to ask

“Do you think your sugar daddy can help me fix my bike?”

She punches you in the arm.

A/n: This was initially a writing exercise to write the silliest short story I could think of, but I thought it was cute so I decided to post it~ Starry

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ghost-bxrd · 1 month

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(okay so full disclosure i haven't read any dc stuff but ive been in the fandom for a while so i know the stuff pretty well, i have also slowly been coming up with prompts and i saw your prompts i thought i would send them to you in case they were decent, if they arent pls feel no pressure to respond :) )

so what if before the titans tower incident nightwing was visiting gotham and his grapple malfunctioned or snapped or smth and then all of a sudden he was just falling, cue the whole dead parent flashbacks, and then all of a sudden someone just caught him.

Red hood was patrolling crime alley when he saw nightwing get too close to his territory, so he followed at a distance too make sure he wasn't trying to pull some sort of trick, when he saw him fall. and fuck thats his big brother, so he runs, and saves him and how the hell is he going to explain this??

oh wow that angst is starting off GOOD!

Like, Dick’s split second of shock when the grapple catches and the line suddenly goes slack again, the swooping sensation of gravity pulling him towards the ground, and a short, hysterical moment to wonder if that’s what his parents felt when they died because— it’s not so bad. He expected there to be more… fear. Bust mostly he’s just sad because he knows Bruce and Tim and Alfred are going to be devastated.

And then there’s another body slamming into him mid air, and for a moment Dick thinks it’s got to be Bruce with the amount of muscle and body armor but he blinks and sees red (shit, shit, shit, Red Hood, this is bad)— but then the crime lord does something unexpected. He pushes off the side of a building in a startlingly familiar move and flips through the air. Something Dick does on the daily. Something Jason used to do with a stilted sort of grace. Something Tim is only just learning to get the hang of.

And suddenly Dick is livid.

Because Hood shouldn’t know how to do this. Nobody but him and Jason Tim should know how to do this. And the fact that Hood does… it can only mean Hood’s either been stalking them for much longer than he feels comfortable with, or——

Or somehow he must have learned from one of the three people ever to exist who know the technique.

Dick knows he didn’t teach Hood, and Tim would sooner break his own leg than help a crime lord…

But that only leaves Jason, and while it can’t be possible Dick can’t help the spark of traitorous hope he feels.

Meanwhile Jason, gesticulating with a gun: (shit fuck ok how do I salvage this ok I need to use this to my advantage somehow oh shit ok—) YOU ARE NOW MY HOSTAGE

Dick, who wasn’t planning on letting Hood leave before he gets some answers anyway: sure :)))

Jason: …what?

Dick: I said sure! Let’s go! You wanna cuff me?

Jason: … wtf?

#brainstorming #prompts #anon prompt #ghost talks #jason todd #batfamily #dick grayson #batfam #robin #Nightwing #red hood

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velvetmud · 1 year

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Stanley Kubrick on film

joel finds a camera and expresses his desire to make a smut film.

warning(s): 18+ explicit, daddy kink, smoking weed, also lots of dirty talk, dirty things

silver fox two decades into outbreak!joel where cameras are a rare thing to come across but somehow weed isn’t. not a request just another fun little thing that kinda came out of nowhere. still working on some other stuff ! why he always comes out so dirty in everything i start to write is beyond me :)

the smell of smoke, sweat, and sex filled the air of the quaint room.

the stereo’s playing a mixtape from some romantic-alternative nineties albums on shuffle. joel bought a quarter ounce of weed from one of Tommy’s friends. went as far as lighting all kinds of candles and placing them throughout on various countertops. as soon as you walked in you couldn’t help yourself from grabbing him and laughing, “are you trying to fuck me or set me on fire?”

he grumbled about this being one of his trying efforts to woo you. while you relax and unwind together sharing the first spliff, he pointedly mentions how he found a camera while he was going out salvaging for stupid goodies with Ellie that afternoon. screen uncracked, quality like new. even the battery was at a lucky hundred percent. he wanted to take advantage of a lingering fantasy now that he’d been presented with an open opportunity.

it wasn’t until a few hours later, fucking and devouring you every way you’ve always liked, he managed to assure you only his and your eyes get to re-watch the hypothetical smutty tape.

reality also was that you got high and felt too fucked out to put up a fight anymore, and he needed to savor it all on film.

it wasn’t necessarily a hypothetical anymore.

joel’s hungry expression hides behind the camera lens as his thumb clicked to capture your each and every movement. he went on to start video recording after a little while of obtaining a lengthy photo gallery.

while he’s puffing on the roach end of another joint, he blows the smoke out from the side of his mouth. puts it down and starts to focus solely on you, ashing whatever’s left. he could see you were already smoked out over half an hour ago anyway. once he gets his fill of watching you tease yourself, rubbing your tits, thighs and legs up and down, he coaches you into opening up a little more.

“yeah, yeah. don’t be afraid to spread those lips apart—just like that, atta girl. gorgeous.”

he zooms in on your naked legs until the screen shows nothing but your drooling, freshly fucked pussy into frame. still pulsing around nothing, leaking the cum that’s yours and his combined inside.

sweat sticks to his forehead and his hair is comparable to a birds nest at this point. he’s hard again, even if he’s drained his dick in you several times in different places earlier. he easily slips into the role of film director, starts telling you how to move and what to say.

“gonna play this back and watch it whenever I miss you. wanna thank you for doing this, baby,” he sighs. runs his hands up your legs with admiration. “let’s see that pussy, yeah. spread ‘em nice and wide, wanna see.” two of his fingers scissor your puffy lips open. his thick spend slowly starts running down your leg.

“fuck, that’s gorgeous. looks so pretty when you’re all used up. full of my cum.” he already knows future him will easily finish less than two minutes into this. “tell the camera who fucked this sweet pussy.”

”you did daddy…” you answer, shy pink cheeks stuffed into the pillow, turned over to the side.

“mmm it’s okay, baby girl. don’t gotta be shy. you know I’ll always tell you exactly how bad I want you.” he breathes, leaning his head down to yours to hold your chin as he spoke. the camera’s still in joel’s grip. it picks up the soft sounds of his rough voice reassuring you. gentle and smiling. he just wants to watch you have fun for him, over and over, on repeat. this was the best solution.

he gets the camera and puts your body back in frame. he thinks he’s turned into Stanley Kubrick as he moves it around to get different lighting and angles of your pussy. once he’s found the most lewd, up-close shot possible, he keeps the lens focused.

“so go ‘head baby. since we’re playing show and tell, go on showing and telling the camera everything you begged daddy to do to you.” he instructed, keeping his eyes glued on you through the square little screen.

you’re grinning ear to ear, still flushed under the spotlight of attention he’s putting on you.

“I…I begged daddy to cum inside me.”

“that’s right, sweet girl. what else? did it feel good, feeling daddy fuck you hard like that?”

he’s stroking himself in a tight fist now, your leftover juices still lubricating his shaft. now the camera’s framed on the two of you, eagerly pleading and teasing with him. you’re harsh when you slip two of your fingers inside, watching him with an open mouth.

“yeah, mmhm. I see that look in your eyes. needin’ my cock again. this,” he holds the tip right up to your lips, making sure the camera sees. “is yours baby. could fuck and suck it all you want. whenever you need.”

he moves the camera higher to capture a nice bird’s eye view as you suckle down on a mouthful of his tip, running your fingers through the milky evidence still pooling between your legs.

a warning pops up on the screen, something about a low battery. joel curses under his breath then picks up speed with his hips, reaching down with the other hand to find your clit. he holds his breath while looking at the sight, delighted by the visual. he starts to feel the build up as he remembers that he gets to re-watch this over, and over, and over again.

“gonna have to go a little faster baby, yeah. just like that, that’s perfect.”

masterlist + buy me a ko-fi

#joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller/reader #joel miller tlou #joel miller fanfic #tlou fanfic #the last of us #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller #the last of us smut #tw daddy kink #joel miller hbo #pedro pascal

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beenbaanbuun · 4 months

Text

first christmas with san

this man just screams over the top christmas to me

if you’re the same as him, it’s perfect! the two of you can giggle together as you decorate your tree and have little flour fights as you bake a gingerbread house

if you’re not, good luck! he can and will force you to make new traditions with him that he is sure to make a note of so you can carry them on for the rest of your christmases together

incredibly sentimental about tree ornaments

“oh my god, baby,” he almost yells as he pulls out a simple glass bauble, “i got this one last year at that christmas market i was telling you about, remember?”

you did remember… how could you forget when throughout the entire year he’d been buzzing about wanting to take you to the christmas market

and when he finally does, a bauble isn’t the only thing you two get

in fact, san made sure to study every single stall

he studied you too and the moment your eyes rested on an ornament for more than a few seconds, it was soon in his hands being paid for

and the food there? he makes sure that the two of you try a little bit of something from each and every stall…

you’re so full by the end of the day that the two of you have to take a nap when you get home

a nap in your new christmas bedding, mind you

san insisted on buying you some, as well as some brand new matching pyjamas

although the pyjamas stay unworn and unseen by you until at least christmas eve

he wraps them in pretty paper and presents them to you on christmas eve

and obviously there’s the christmas photoshoot in front of the tree in your pyjamas because san insists that it wouldn’t be christmas without it

proudly shares the photo with every single person he knows because they have to know just how much he loves celebrating the holiday season with you

also makes sure you take a photo under the mistletoe that he hung in the doorway

he takes a lot of those photos actually…

“no, that one wasn’t perfect,” he frowns, “guess you’ll just have to kiss me again!”

most of those don’t get sent to people

he got a little carried away

carries you to bed promptly at 9pm because ‘santa won’t come if we’re not in bed!’

he doesn’t say anything when you point out that all your gifts are already under the tree

cuddles you close all night because he’s so excited and he just needs to squeeze something!

you try and wriggle away at numerous points in the night but san doesn’t have those muscles for nothing

there is no escape

safe to you when you wake up in the morning you have a suspiciously san shaped lump on top of you

grumbles when you try to wake him up but then you wish him a merry christmas and he wakes up quicker than you’ve ever seen him wake up before

“oh my god,” he shouts as he practically falls out of bed, dragging you with him, “come on! no time to waste, baby.”

you let him drag your tired body to the living room where he passes you gift after gift and waiting for you to open them

they get more elaborate and expensive and they go on, and you get a pant in your chest when you realise that the gifts you got for him are nothing in comparison

he assures you it’s fine with his words, and then reassures you with his excited reaction to each and every gift he unwraps

“baby, it’s perfect!” “it’s just a jumper…” “yeah but it’s a really nice jumper!”

you two try and cook dinner together

half way through you end up checking if any of your local take outs are open

they’re not… you end up eating whatever you can salvage from the nightmare of a dinner the two of you had managed to make

a bit of dry turkey and a few underdone yet somehow simultaneously burnt carrots never hurt anyone…

you decide to leave the clearing up until later

you spend most of the afternoon curled up on the sofa watching whatever shitty movies you can find

and you spend the entirety of each movie picking through the plot holes and guessing how it’s going to end

you tell him you love him before you kiss him under the mistletoe on your way to bed

he tells you he loves you too

#ateez headcanons #ateez oneshot #ateez reactions #ateez fanfic #ateez fluff #ateez x reader #ateez scenarios #san headcanons #san oneshot #san fic #san fluff #san x reader

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ideas-4-stories · 11 days

Note

One piece story idea where Buggy has had medical issues since he was a baby, but most of them went unknown, undiagnosed, or not caught early enough to "make a difference".

Buggy with an autoimmune disorder of some kind (leaning to fibromayalgia bc I love projecting on my baby blue blorbo, but also the overactive nerves would tie in nicely with his devil fruit)

Buggy with hypermobility at the very least, possible Ehlers Danlos Syndrome, but it's damn near impossible to properly diagnose due to his DF and the tech available by and large.

On the Oro Jackson, few genuinely believed when Buggy would say something hurt or felt wrong or when he was more foggy headed than usual. Shanks could always read him like an open book. Roger could hear the changes in his youngest's Voice. Crocus did the best he could, but his options were limited and his attention was split. It was Roger, Rayleigh and Shanks who were Buggy's main support system.

Roger absolutely cried the first time Buggy got injured in a big fight and casually relocated a joint with just a soft hiss. That alone had been jarring, but Buggy's response to Shanks' worried question of "are you okay, does it hurt-," left the captain biting back tears. How else is a father supposed to feel when his little boy simply rolls hod eyes and says "not much more than normal"

When Roger disbanded the crew, the plan was to leave the boys on Drum. It had good doctors, Buggy would get more support, and it was rarely an island under siege due to the medical renown it had. They of course did not tell the boys as such, and it was only through a series of wacky events that lead Kureha to meeting them and taking a liking to their sparks. Shanks wasn't the most interested in medicine but he learned some things, specifically first aid and some things to help Buggy. He actually found psychology pretty interesting when he had the patience and attention span to spare. Buggy on the other hand took to it all like a fish to water.

They were there for almost two years when the newspaper was delivered and both boys lost their SHIT when the headline announced the execution of their captain, their father. Kureha sent them off, arguably with more supplies than they needed, and gave them her Denden number to reach her if they needed anything at all. She couldn't go with them, but she refused to send them truly alone.

They have their fight in the plaza, but it doesn't end with a monumental break up. They meet back up the next day, and they bite the bullet together and talk.

They take some time to come to a decision moving forward.

They ultimately decide to go with the co-captain avenue but with careful misdirection and smoke and mirrors. To the world at large, they will seem completely independent and unrelated. In truth, they will be leveraging their independent skills to further themselves and each other. The brains and brawn, as it were.

It works out in their favor for a good deal of time until the cluster fuck that is marineford. Secrets are out, identities revealed, and Buggy is having 6395716 panic attacks stacked up like Legos.

He and Shanks roll with it as best they can, trying to salvage what they feasibly could.

Two years later, Cross Guild is formed and begins rolling. Buggy's crew knows of his illnesses/disabilities, but he has a strict set up to address them. It's on a need to know basis.

Crocodile and Mihawk just so happened to swirl in like a hurricane and never got the memo until there was an attack on the island.

Somehow, someway, Buggy got absolutely soaked in sea water, but he's still fighting, knives in hand, bobbing and weaving with a trail of blood in his wake. It's as he pivots to lunge that Mihawk catches sight of him suddenly paling, a minute flinch, but beyond that, Buggy doesn't react, instead throwing the knife, reaching down and making a strange move at his knee before he cringed, took a sharp inhale, and dove back into the fray.

Upon asking why, hours later in the meeting tent, the swordsman and mafioso present blink when Buggy shrugs and says "oh, my knee cap tried to dislocate. Couldn't disconnect with the sea water so I had to push it back by hand."

"Pardon?"

"Hm?" Buggy glances up from where he's brushing some dried remnants of the battle from his locks, one eye shut against the debris. "What?"

"What caused the injury? I did not see any attacks to your legs in the chaos."

"Oh, it just happens sometimes," Buggy says casually, as if this were knowledge the other two ought to know. "I'm used to it."

They are not sure what to do, nor how to respond. They let it rest for the time being but they do keep a closer eye on their chairman following this.

They learn Buggy is rather adept at working with and around his unusual burdens, either disconnecting a joint or alleviating pressure on it until it can be addressed, even chop-chopping the offending area back to the proper place. They catch sight, now that they know to look, of hints of braces, wraps, the way Buggy occasionally presses his iced drink to a knee, a wrist, on an ankle in movements familiar but exceedingly casual, never belying their true purpose.

It is then that the two dark haired men realize there is much more to their clown than they first assumed.

I agree that overactive nerves would tie nicely with his Devil Fruit. Buggy having medical issues that went unknown, undiagnosed, or wasn’t caught early enough would make sense after all if the HC that Buggy was with the Roger Pirates as a baby or even if he wasn’t with them during his infant stage. These are pirates, how are they supposed to know that they need to look for things that could be wrong with the two babies they now have?

I’m sure some of them have things that have went unknown and undiagnosed. Anyway, back to Buggy, I had to look up Ehlers Danlos Syndrome because I didn't know what it was. I agree that it would be nearly impossible to diagnose properly because of no good tech around, as well as the fact he is on a pirate crew, I assume for the most pirate crews they don't stick around island for very long. I HC that Buggy swallowed the Bara Bara Fruit when he was nine.

Poor Buggy, I want to think that more people on the crew understood that Buggy has problems but didn’t how they could help him. Because acting like Buggy was fragile would make Buggy become angry because kid doesn’t want to be treated like that.

Poor Roger, having to watch that without saying anything, with all the other times it happened. Then after he disbanded the crew. Leaving them on Drum Island is a good choice and it makes sense that they didn’t tell the boys (I feel like they don’t tell the boys many things that should of been talked about, but this might be a good thing they didn’t say anything about. But who knows)

I wonder what the series of wacky events were to the meeting between them and Kureha? To me, they seemed like it there in this AU.

I think anyone would lose their shit if they see someone, they really love is getting murdered in front of so many people. I feel that Kureha only let them go because she knew they would go anyway, and this way let’s her give Buggy and Shanks the supplies they need.

I believe that with all the stress and pain of losing someone they hold dear in their hearts. I think Buggy wasn’t in the right mind set nor was Shanks in a way. Anyway, Love that they came back around to talk about it. I think the smoke & mirrors co-captain route they have… or is it more like Buggy and Shanks are allies? They have their own crews, but they still have each.

Then Marineford happened, poor Buggy and Shanks. I hope in this AU that Ace lives, but it was never stated so I don't know.

The idea that Buggy's crew knows about his illnesses/disabilities makes me feel that his followers would say he so strong to overcome them or we just talking about Buggy's crew from East Blue. Then yeah, those folks definitely know about his illnesses/disabilities.

Mihawk and Crocodile coming in without any knowledge and it took a battle to find out. I can see Buggy is nonchalantly about it as Mihawk did a doubletake when he said ‘Pardon?’ Crocodile did a doubletake too, because with those two didn’t know.

Once Crocodile and Mihawk know about what’s going on with Buggy, they see that the signs were always there. It’s just they didn’t paid attention to those signs, but they are.

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laundrybiscuits · 1 year

Text

“Eddie,” Robin says, eyes wide in a way that means trouble. “Edward Munson, I sincerely hope your last will and testament is in order, because you are going to completely and totally die when I tell you who just got hired at Scoops Ahoy.”

Eddie groans. “Don’t tell me Tammy Thompson is giving up on her Nashville dreams.”

“No, I hate you, shut up forever, you’ll never guess.” Robin pauses, then in a dramatic whisper she’s definitely picked up from Eddie himself, says: “Steve Harrington.”

“Jesus. No shit?”

“Yeah, I have to train him. Oh my god it’s the worst. He’s so bad at, like, everything.”

She shoves at his shoulder until he moves out of the doorway of the trailer, and flings herself backwards onto his couch. “Like! Okay! I showed up to my shift thinking it would be a completely normal day in which I would be bored out of my skull distributing frozen dairy products to the flotsam and jetsam of Hawkins, and Ned’s like, hey Robin, you’re showing the new guy the ropes today. And then that freaking jackass has the freaking nerve to say—” Her voice drops a full register. “Uhh, nice to meet you, I’m Steve. Nice to meet you! God!”

Eddie cringes sympathetically, sucking air between his teeth. There’s a special kind of indignity to being so completely and utterly below the radar of Hawkins High royalty, even former bearers of the crown. It’s not as if Hawkins is a big town; Eddie’s pretty sure he could pick every single person in the graduating classes of ‘84 and ‘85 out of a crowd. He’ll probably be able to do it for ‘86 too, though he’s trying not to think about it too hard. So he’ll be a senior again (again) this fall, whatever. It’s fine. It’s whatever.

Once in a while, he wastes some time really, really wishing he’d gotten to know Robin earlier in the year. Maybe even last year. For undying friendship reasons, yeah, but also because with her in his corner, he might’ve actually passed enough of his classes to fucking graduate on his second fucking try.

But he’d only actually met her, like actually met her for real instead of passing her in the hall sometimes, when he’d let himself get suckered into rejoining band. It wasn’t like he could’ve brought his guitar in, but he let it slip to Miss Genovese that he could read music and keep time, and they needed someone to wallop the bass drum, and he figured a little experience fucking around with percussion might be the one thing he could salvage from the year. He’d just…been so goddamn tired of feeling stuck, spinning his wheels. Music was something he could actually handle; something he could actually get better at. Something he could master. He's man enough to admit he needed a win.

The actual songs were all stuffy Holst and Sousa numbers, but they’d had some fun technical bits he spent his evenings hammering out for a couple weeks. And then right around the point when he’d gotten good enough to get bored and think about quitting like last time, it had somehow wound up that shooting the shit with the gangly weirdo in the trumpet section was one of the best parts of his day. Unfortunately, by the time they’d gotten close enough for her to start bullying him about homework and shit, it had been way too late to save his chance at walking that ‘85 stage with assholes like Steve fucking Harrington.

Not that Harrington would’ve even noticed, apparently.

“Anyway, the one singular saving grace about the entire situation is that he looks even dumber in the sailor costume than I do, so at least that will make me feel better about my life until he gets fired for burning down the ice cream freezer or something like that. Eddie, I cannot stress this enough: he is so bad at this job.”

Eddie very tactfully does not bring up the litany of screw-ups that Robin’s admitted to over the last couple weeks since she started at Scoops; he just says, “Buckley, it sounds to me like you might be in need of some quality relaxation time this fine evening. I can offer you a nice cold beer, some herbal refreshment…or a fiendishly weird new song to learn with an intro riff that'll make you cry.”

Robin, inveterate nerd of his heart, sits up immediately and chirps, “New song, please!” just like he knew she would. She’s going to run off and elope with his acoustic one of these days, and he’s not even mad about it.

“Coming right up, m’lady,” says Eddie. “I promise this entire Harrington situation will be over before you know it, and neither of us will ever have to think about him again.”

(ETA: First chapter of this fic has been edited/expanded and posted on AO3)

#new fic time YET AGAIN yes I know I have other things on the boil #seasonal things even #but I have recently spent 36 hours without sleep in airports/airplanes bc the nation of britain is 0% equipped to handle subzero temps #I literally kept myself sane by rereading nice comments I'd saved on my phone so thanks for that y'all #and I just needed to work on a thing that wasn't an angsty mid-90s Steve POV set in chicago; this was next on the docket #I'm just out here vibing with my Eddie & Robin: Gay BFFs agenda #obviously this will be steddie eventually but it feels disingenuous to tag on this part #fyi this will not be fully compliant with Rebel Robin but there may be some details drawn from the book/podcast #fic: purify our misfit ways

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nanomooselet · 3 months

Text

My Brother's Keeper (II)

As in every version of the story, Vash only plays the fool. He is not one. Oblivious, hapless and harmless are always masks he wears. From beneath them, he susses out what Wolfwood is pretty much immediately.

Not that it was hard. The man's barely trying. And really, three days into the trip to July and a guy carrying a cross from Nai's freaky book suddenly shows up, walks off the trailer slamming into him, tries to separate Vash from the reporters, lectures him about killing to survive, makes just-kidding-or-am-I remarks about being an assassin, then finally reveals he's actually carrying an absurdly overpowered laser-cross-gun before inviting himself along for their quote-unquote "protection". Nevertheless he sticks almost exclusively by Vash, who is by a very, very, very wide margin the least in need of protection among them.

Just in this scene his lighter has the Eye of Michael sigil on it and judging by the heap of butts, after picking tunnels for everyone to search (including one for him) he stayed right where he was and chain-smoked until Vash returned. Not too long afterwards Roberto abruptly and mysteriously vanishes, and Wolfwood tries to convince Vash the reporters must be dead. …Yeah, I guess that counts as subtle for someone who named himself Millions Knives, but c'mon. Knives thinks his stupid brother won't come to his party unless he's dragged there. Vash has a chaperone now whether he wants one or not.

If I were in Vash's situation I'd be quite annoyed. For fuck's sake, he's an adult. He's been one for over a century. He doesn't need a damn babysitter. And what kind of idiot sends an assassin to do that job?

Except... Knives somehow made the perfect choice in Nick.

Wolfwood's cynical rhetoric has no effect whatsoever on Vash's ideals and he's hardly any more effective at keeping Vash safe. Simply because Wolfwood's there, Zazie and Legato between them find excuses to endanger Vash, which is par for the course when Knives tries to "protect" him. No, what makes Wolfwood the best man for the job is something that may well have happened in spite of Knives, and it's this.

Regardless of his real age, at heart Nick is a kind but wounded boy who's only trying to protect his beloved family, especially his crybaby brother. He kills because he doesn't think there's any choice - he's ultimately a victim of indifferent circumstance. In a way, an innocent.

In Wolfwood Knives gave Vash everything Vash wants to believe is true of Knives himself. With all his heart, Vash wants his brother's cruelty and manipulation to be just... just some wildly misguided but sincere attempt to save the Plants, because he doesn't believe there can be any other way - but he'd be open to an alternative. Nai really does love Vash, just like Vash truly does love Nai, and Rem loved them both. His brother can't be a monster.

If he's smart and kind and strong and brave enough, if he can just overcome his fear, Vash is sure that he can help. He'd convince Nai that humanity doesn't have to die, it's just ignorance and crashing on this barren planet that made everyone's hearts so barren while they struggled to survive. They, the twins, can take responsibility for what they did and help Plants and humans to help each other. If they could do it together...

He could love his brother without it being so fucking painful. They could love each other without every encounter they have leaving more helpless people dead, more scars on Vash. From all that he's lost, he could salvage this one thing. He'd be so content with that. He's survived on much less. He ran before, but he'd stay this time, and for good. Neither of them would be alone. They'd have time.

On top of that, Vash needs to help people - it's what keeps him alive, and it makes him happy. Wolfwood needs someone who'll treat him like he's a person rather than a weapon, to remember that he doesn't have to be the Punisher. That's what keeps him alive. There's still a place for him in the world, even for what he's become.

If Vash can convince Wolfwood, his brother's agent, to accept that place... if he can help him... maybe he could do the same for his brother. Just as Luida did for Vash himself.

And Wolfwood does a damn good job playing the part without even knowing that's what he's doing. Well, he knows he's protecting Vash, but all it's in how he does it.

JPN: You only get one life. You have to fight for it, no matter who you hurt in the process. There's no other way to survive.

ENG: You only get one life, y'know? Self-sacrifice might satisfy the ego, but don't throw your life away. Survival's everything.

This is advice you'd get from a brother. If one must die so another can live, I'd rather you live - so make sure of it. Dumbass. (It's also the final request Rem made of the twins: I want you two to survive./Try your very best to survive for me.) Maybe phrased bluntly and a bit abrasive, but not… insane. No weird sermons about crusades and fire from the sky, no verbal abuse or put-downs, no blame, no hurt. What's more, while Wolfwood does try to convince Vash to leave the reporters for dead, when Vash goes back for them Wolfwood bitches all the way but goes with him. He slices open the Grand Worm for them (though I think also to annoy Zazie). And after that, he clinches it by, of all things, trying to get Meryl to eat bugs.

You're not going so survive like that. Come on!/Are any of you freaks interested in survival? Come on! Open wide!

(This is totally irrelevant, but their stupid bickering in the background in the English dub is hilarious. Nick straight up says "I'm helping!" and adds something about how short Meryl is. Meryl starts protesting that she's a "perfectly average-sized woman." I bet they were unbearable in the truck.)

Nai was always dismissive of, if not outright nasty about, Vash enjoying food he doesn't need. Nick gets it. Consuming food gives physical nourishment, and Plants don't need that to survive. But it's also togetherness, shared joy. Those are things both Plants and humans need, so it's not a 'waste'. We're more than merely serving a material purpose or function, even one that's self-declared. Even as Plants.

No matter how heavy a cross you carry, you still deserve to eat. You still deserve to laugh./Heh, no matter how heavy the cross is you carry, you deserve food. And to laugh.

Vash needed to hear that, or something like it. It's the kind of thing Rem used to say, the kind of thing Luida told him. (It's about everyone getting a share.) Meryl, though she cares for him, doesn't yet know how to break through Vash's rumination.

Nick's being a jackass older brother by happenstance, because he's letting down his guard. It's who he really is: kind of a silly kid who cares deeply about people and shows it by goofing off and pushing their buttons until they want to fucking kill him. But Vash would so relieved to have a brother who's just annoying about how much he cares. Who still cares enough to listen to his opinions, and to compromise when they disagree; who doesn't loathe the person Vash is because it's not what he thinks Vash should be. So Vash eats what Wolfwood offers, despite Roberto's warnings, extending his trust. Wolfwoof takes that in the spirit it was intended, a little shocked. Despite himself (and despite Zazie), he and Vash are genuine friends from this moment onward.

Also Nick is having a ball bugging the shit out of Meryl. She's like three feet tall and so easy to piss off! Maybe if he tries hard enough he can make her head explode. Irritating the little sister mode: activate.

That doesn't mean everything's love and peace, though.

Wolfwood's work isn't over yet. I think he's relieved Vash extended his trust both because, despite himself, Nick likes this dude (and that must have been an interesting realisation to come to about his sadistic boss's fluffy wuffy cotton ball of a twin brother) and because it makes his job easier. But now he's emotionally invested. He shouldn't be. He can't be. Zazie reminded him why, can see it in [his] eyes. The last person who cared like this was Livio.

Again, Vash isn't stupid. He does care about Nick as a person, not a surrogate Nai, just as he cares about everyone; it's why he's so easy to love and so, so many people have come to love him. (Precious darling boy.) Nevertheless, there are gaps between what Vash needs from Nick and what Nick is capable of giving. And there's one huge glaring difference between Wolfwood and Knives.

That difference meant the hope Vash came to have about confronting Knives in July was misplaced. He just couldn't have known until it was too late.

Part I

Part III

Part IV

Part V

Part VI

Part VII

#trigun stampede #tristampparty #trigun meta #nicholas d. wolfwood #millions knives #vash the stampede #wolfwood's refusal to employ any skill at clandestine operations fucking cracks me up #it's like he's trying to get fired or discharged but he was abducted by a death cult #so he's just incompetent on purpose because fuck all ya'll #what are they going to do. fire him? torture him? shoot him?#bad news about all that stuff guys #meta: my brother's keeper

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artificialgirl · 2 months

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This is the fourth part of a long-form piece about a robot and a giant computer. It contains adult topics, overt sexuality, blatant robotfuckery, toxic lesbians, unbalanced power dynamics, wireplay, and lots of other things that may be triggering or make you uncomfy. Before reading this, previous chapters are on my blog under the #salvage tag.

THIS IS THE CHAPTER WHERE EXPLICIT SHIT STARTS HAPPENING! If you're uncomfortable with high-intensity robot bondage stuff, I highly reccomend you don't read from this point onward.

Salvage - 04

Time inside - 04D/11H/23M

Levels deep - 50

It's been two days in the room, and you're starting to lose it. Since Ven left you here, you've explored every inch of the empty space, inspected every tool on the table, pulled at every panel, tried the door more times than you can count. You even tried messing with the cable she gave you a bit- If it's removable, you definitely aren't the one who can get it out of your charging port. You're bored to death, and the only entertainment you have is trying to make sense of the foreign datafeed still passing through your thoughts.

It's not like there isn't a way out of the room. Ven made it clear that all you needed to do was call for her and she'd come to bring you whatever you needed. You're sure that would include anything to help pass the time, but each time you start to consider that you push the thought away. It's a matter of principle. Whether she means for you to be or not, you're her prisoner here, and giving in to relying on her would only make that more true.

You sit on the floor with your back to the charging bay you no longer fit in thanks to the cable, absentmindedly swinging at the panel beneath you with one of the pry wrenches from the table. Thin cracks spread across it each time you make contact, almost instantly fading as the material self-repairs. The thought strikes you that Ven might be able to feel the strikes in the same way you feel your plating, and you're filled with guilt. You slide the wrench across the floor, and it makes a soft thunk as it collides with the wall.

Somehow, despite the overwhelming boredom, your emotions are too much right now. You pull your knees to your chest and bury your screen in them, trying to compose yourself and slow your fans a bit. You want to call for Ven, you want to ask her not to leave again, to stay and let you listen to her pretty voice, but you can't. You can't let yourself crumple that easily, no matter how much better it would make you feel. Instead, you try to focus your attention on getting out.

You've tried the door and the walls, but they're all sealed with no way to get a grip on them and pry them apart. The ceiling, though... Your focus shifts to the spot above you where the ceiling panels split to allow your cable to hang through. You shuffle a bit to the side, and as the cable glides behind you the panels silently ripple open to make way for its movement along their perpendicular seams. Your assessment that the room was inescapable may have been premature.

You bring the cord's entry point over to the table, kicking away some of the tools as you climb on top of it. The entry point doesn't look like much more than a few centimeters of parting between the ceiling panels, but that should be all you need. You're just barely tall enough on your toes to jam your fingers into the gap, putting all the force you can into trying to spread the tiles.

While they may have removed all of your weaponry when they activated you, your body IS still that of a combat unit, which means the limb strength to pry and tear through basically anything you can get a firm grip on. They put up a good fight, but eventually the panels buckle and form a gap around the cable big enough for you to hoist your body through. You pull yourself up into the ceiling, and you're out. Easy.

It's evident as you crawl through the cramped space between the panels and the layers of endless machinery that it's not designed for anything but survey arms. You can see dozens of them around you as you drag your cable forward, lenses pressed to the cracks in the ceiling, looking down into the room you were just in. Ven is almost certainly already aware you're gone, but it should at least be much harder for her to track down your exact location and detain you when you're in here.

At this point, the plan is a mix of panic and vague ideas. If you can crawl to the exterior where you came in, you could potentially stay connected to the cable while you signalled the corporation to come retrieve you. There's a good 30% chance they'd repair you instead of taking you apart for scrap, and you're still weighing whether or not those odds are worth taking. You push onward and try not to think much about how this plan requires you to ascend 50 floors without being caught by the near-omniscient being whose body you're inside.

As you drag yourself towards the vague idea of a next destination, you find yourself marveling at the bits of technology you pass. Though most of what's used to keep Ven operational is sandwiched away in the thick segments between levels, you still see frequent reminders of what makes her work scattered and embedded in every surface. Whirring fans, twitching motors, glowing apparatuses you couldn't even begin to guess the purpose of. Then, the path narrows and you find yourself face to face with something you've only seen in design data.

A huge cable interchange fills the entirety of the path in front of you, its dim multicolored glow illuminating the constant action which fills its center. In every wall of the hollow cube, dozens of thick cables are plugged, being removed and replaced and slid around the area to different ports entirely autonomously. You watch mesmerized for a moment, in disbelief at how so many extended cables could be moving in the same space that quickly without tying themselves into a giant knot. Everything is perfectly optimized to move data to different sectors of Ven's structure through wired connections as quickly as possible.

Your amazement fades a bit as you realize that on either side of the interchange is a wall that stretches as far as you can see in each direction. You can see that the space continues on the other side of the interchange, but... Moving through there seems like it's going to be a problem. It's that or turning around and crawling at least a few more kilometers to find another way, so... Interchange it is. It will be fine. You'll stick to the edges, and be through to the other side as quickly as you went in.

You keep your body low to the ground as you drop into the interchange's basin, trying to huddle as close to the corner as possible as you dash from one side to the other. Wires fly on all sides of you, and you duck to narrowly avoid one which nearly snares you by the neck. It looks like you're home clear, though. Just a few more steps until you're at the other edge, and...

As you cross the threshold, you feel something holding you back. You turn and see a dark cable wrapped in a loop around your ankle, thrashing against you in an attempt to get to its designated port. Shit. You try to shake your leg free from the straining cable and find yourself losing the battle, slowly being dragged back into the cube of the interchange despite your scrambling against its pull. The edge of the box reverberates as your hands are ripped away from it, and the cable finally slots into its intended destination with a pop as it pulls you into the air by your ankle. You dangle helplessly upside down and try desperately to wriggle free as the interchange races around you.

A second cable zips around your waist with an L shape, scissoring your body between it and another with an almost mirrored position. More quickly than you even have time to fight against, cables wrap themselves around your body as they rush from destination to destination. Before you know it, you're dangling precariously in the middle of the chamber and bound too tightly to even struggle. You can feel them pressing into you, tightening themselves so much as they strain towards out-of-reach ports that a lesser model's plating would crumple under the force.

They really, really seem to hate how tangled they are. Maybe almost as much as you do. They fling themselves wildly in any and every direction, seemingly unable to comprehend the reason they can't access what they're meant to be accessing. And so, unable to plug themselves into the right places, they settle for the next best thing.

You feel the first plug jam itself into one of the ports on your hip panel, which hangs open and exposed in the commotion. You cry out as the instant rush of data floods your head, making you squirm against the binding cables in a different way than before. Your thrashing stops almost entirely as the ability to feel the cable wrapped around your own body, twitching and pulling against so many others, becomes the only thing you can process.

The cables don't wait for what you can process, though- Almost immediately, each of the dozen ports on the panel are filled with wires, removing themselves and being instantly replaced every few seconds when they briefly realize your body isn't the right port. The dataflow is overwhelming and all-consuming, filling your fuzzy thoughts with ecstasy and forcefully squeezing out the ability to feel anything else.

You're barely even moving anymore- Your ensnared body spasms occasionally, but any will you had to even think about struggling against the pleasure is long-gone. It's hard to tell how much time passes- It could be seconds, it could be years. Everything else has faded away to the feeling surging through you, including your concept of time itself.

You don't notice as the panels around the interchange fold out and open up, revealing your predicament to the rooms below. You don't notice as a figure rises to your level, examining the mess you've gotten yourself into and shaking her head. You barely even notice as the interchange powers down, dropping your limp and twitching body into Ven's inviting arms.

You register that you're comfortable, that you feel safe, that everything that was scary is now gone. You register that her body is larger, more complete, packed tightly with more woven survey arms than you can count as she holds you against her chest. You look up at her, unfocused cameras barely able to see the red glow of her face, and you register that she's beautiful. Then, everything is dark.

#robophilia #robotfucker #ns4w #cw suggestive #robot yuri #wireplay #robot4robot #pov #longer form #salvage #cw rope #cw intense #ven-55 #aelith-03

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thefreakandthehair · 7 months

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@eddiemonth prompt, oct 9th: Cowboy | Wanted Dead or Alive - Bon Jovi | Cavalier a/n: steddie, post-canon fix it, brief mention of canonical harassment, brief allusion to survivor's guilt. un-betaed because I’m challenging myself to write these in under an hour. read on ao3 | link to masterpost on ao3

The sun rises over a leveled Hawkins, bright streaks of sunlight illuminating the cracks and crevices that spider through the town. Fractals that remind Eddie Munson of what’s occurred over the past week since the world first split open.

A week of chaos, of death, of fear. A week of discovering that monsters are real, and that while the ones beneath their feet are terrifying, the ones that hunt Eddie above ground are somehow worse.

The people who still think he’s a murderer, despite being publicly cleared, are far worse than Vecna. They taunt Wayne, deface his posters with things like Dead or Alive on his missing posters, show up at his work to torment him.

It’s why eventually, they have to tell Wayne that he’s dead. Eddie hates it, the idea of leaving Wayne in the dark, but he knows that Nancy’s right and it’s the best way to keep everyone safe. Dustin offers to deliver the news complete with his favorite, now-bloodied, guitar pick chain.

He’s just a kid, Eddie thinks, hiding in Steve’s basement for the time being, his wounds healing slowly.

Dustin’s just a kid, and he sobs when he tells Wayne not because Eddie’s actually dead, but because Wayne is devastated and Dustin has to lie.

Months pass, and Eddie is still considered missing despite everyone’s story that he was swallowed up saving Dustin from a crevice that’d opened beneath their feet.

No body, no absolution. Not for Eddie.

“We can’t keep him holed up here,” Steve groans, running a hand through his hair as he sits on the couch between Eddie and Robin. “It’s not fair.”

“What do you suppose we do then, Steve? The town still…” Nancy grimaces and trails off.

“Yeah, they want me dead, sure. Let ‘em take a crack at it.” Eddie says, monotone and cavalier. “That sounded bad, but seriously, what kind of life is this? Steve’s basement’s fine, but what’s the plan? I just stay here for the rest of my life, hiding? I’d rather be–”

Steve turns and levels him with a glare that needs no words. They’ve talked about this, time after time, that making comments about preferring to be dead are a personal insult to the people who love him, who fought tooth and nail to save him the way he saved them.

He cuts himself off, shakes his head. “What else can we do?”

Dustin is in the corner with the other kids, talking amongst themselves, until Lucas speaks up.

“Someone who knows what’s actually going on has to get him away, outta town. Start over.”

The older teens share a glance, Jonathan and Argyle shrugging in tandem. “California’s pretty far. We’re not going back but, we could set you up with some good people out there.”

“He can’t just go alone though, he’s barely healed!” Robin reminds the group of Eddie’s extensive injuries, healed on the surface but not all the way through. They may never be healed all the way through.

Eddie sighs and drops his head into his hands, elbows propped on his knees. He tries to disguise the way his shoulders shake, tries to bite back the helpless, hopeless sobs that threaten to rip through his rib cage. He doesn’t want to cry in front of his friends, and the few times he’s broken down in front of Steve, it’s pulled painfully at the tendons in his chest.

He feels Robin rub his back and Steve rests a hand on his thigh, thumbing small circles into the fabric of his sweatpants. Well, they were once Steve’s but he can’t even go back to the trailer to salvage what he can of his things. He can’t even go get Sweetheart, not that he thinks he’ll ever be comfortable playing her again.

“What if I go with him?” Steve suggests, quietly enough that Eddie’s the only one to hear him clearly.

“What?” Dustin questions, stepping forward with the rest of the kids.

“I said, what if I go with him? I know what’s going on, my body’s recovered, and let’s call a spade a spade here, I’m the only one without parents around to question where I went. So, what if I go with Eddie to California?”

Eddie’s chest pulls for different reasons— this time, with hope and gratitude, with love and affection.

“Steve, I’m not asking you to do that,” he whispers, turning to face him individually. “You have a whole life here.”

“We’ll come visit, and he can come back to visit, too. And eventually, you’ll be declared dead here. You can start over.” Robin slings an arm over Eddie’s shoulders and squeezes him, a rare show of physical intimacy. Her voice is melancholic at best, but the more the group discusses the option, the more it seems like the only option.

At least for now.

At least while Eddie remains a wanted man.

They waste no time packing up the Pizzamobile, offered as a gift to travel across the country with the provision that Steve return it to Surfer Boy when they reach California.

Eddie and Steve refuse to say goodbye, because it’s not. Robin promises that all of her college applications are now going to California schools, and she hugs Steve and Eddie tight enough that if love could click Eddie’s injuries back in place, he’d be healed immediately.

As they get on the road, Steve at the helm and Eddie sitting passenger, Eddie finds that Argyle has a vast cassette collection.

“Little soundtrack, Stevie?” Eddie wiggles the tape between his fingers and pops it into the tape deck.

The song starts and after the first verse, Eddie just stares out the windshield, thinking.

When he was a kid, outlaws and cowboys were glamorized. Always on the run, nothing to tether them to one place, living alone out on the road. But now it’s Eddie who feels like the outlaw, running from his own innocence, and he can’t find a shred of glamor in that.

“You’re thinking awfully loud over there, Munson.” Steve does it again, rests a hand on Eddie’s thigh as he drives one-handed, and Eddie feels that same glimmer of hope come alive again.

Eddie shrugs and rests his head back against the seat, cracked pleather against his neck.

“All good over here, big boy.” They drive in silence save for Bon Jovi’s Wanted Dead or Alive and Eddie watches the sunset over the wide expanse of promising highway ahead of them.

#steddie #steddie fic #steddie fanfic #steddie fanfiction #eddie month #eddie munson x steve harrington #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #st fic #myblurbs #eddie month prompts #spoiler alert: wayne does find out the truth and goes straight to cali <3333

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goodluckclove · 11 days

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Various "Failures" From My Google Docs

Good morning! I'm at my usual coffee shop and got inspired by the troubles of a few friends to embarrass myself.

Sit down with me. I'm enjoying my usual blended chai. There's room on the couch if you'd like to join me.

So I've written thirteen novels. I think thirteen, I've actually lost count. Let's say, like, five full-length plays and twelve to fourteen finished novels. Impressive, right? Maybe. I'm realizing that I consider that not much of a brag, if only because I know the amount of trips and stumbles it took to get to one completed project.

I've ditched a lot of ideas. A lot. If I need to I can dig into my old hard drives to find all the doc files from my youth, but I also have the same Google Docs I've had since middle school.

It's mostly plays and ghostwriting assignments, but if you did you'll find some snippets from my constant attempts at growth.

Some stuff like this is okay. The line "hair slicked back/suit black silk" is pretty good, but a little too the writer thinks they're clever for me now. I don't really remember where I planned to go with this. I think the narrator was somehow going to be given the identity of Roy Fontaine. I was really fixated on the surname Fontaine at the time. I don't know why.

But then there's also a lot of stuff like this:

Hey look it's Fontaine again! I guess he's a doctor, too! Also I am astounded by how casually the main character just pulls out the Necronomicon. He pulls it out? From where? His pocket? Is it a zine?

I don't know why, but something about how suddenly this jumps in terms of dropping specifics makes me think that Sonic the Hedgehog is about to show up. I can't explain it.

This is the only thing in a Doc titled "Psychosis". I have zero memory of what I was planning on doing with this. What's kind of crazy though is that I wrote this in 2014, and six years later I'll use essentially this exact bit in a finished novel without even realizing it.

Another bit from 2014. No clue what I planned to do with this. It's hilarious to me that something stopped me from finishing the sentence. What am I, Franz Kafka writing The Tower? I didn't die. I wasn't raptured. I just apparently tried to think of something a large oak door would do and immediately gave up. It was 2014 I had finished, like, four novels. And this idea was fully stalled by what had to be a fucking huge oak door.

My favorite part of this radio play I tried to write is that somehow, believe it or not - when I wrote this I did not fully understand the Quantum Suicide thought experiment. And for along time I still kind of thought that this could be salvaged into a good idea, until last night when I asked my wife to put on a video describing the experiment and I immediately found it so dumb. Just ridiculously stupid. The only good thing about Quantum Mickey is that the title kicks ass and I'm definitely keeping it for something.

I've written a lot. A lot. I've earned the severity of carpal tunnel I currently have. If I had to put it into a statistic, I'd say maybe seventy percent ends up finished. fifty percent ends up polished to be read or published. Thirty percent actually ends up being read or published. I'm okay with this, because I enjoy the work. But for me, part of enjoying the work is not panicking when a project doing work.

If I need to end a project in the middle of a sentence, I do. I've clearly proven that I do. Sometimes I write for thirty pages and lose interest, other times I get a paragraph in and get distracted forever. That's okay.

That's okay. As long as you're doing something.

I could've included segments of Carnation, my first novella that was supposed to be a novel but I never finished it. But I fucking guess that's getting it's own post when I hit 150 followers so I hope you're prepared for what the type of stuff I enjoyed in middle school.

There's an Irish child that speaks exclusively in slang. You aren't ready.

#writeblr #writing community #on writing #writers on tumblr #authors of tumblr #writing #writing advice #writing tips #writing inspo #writing inspiration

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cinnamontoastcrunch-15 · 10 months

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I love your Hippie Remus x Scientist Sirius stories so much! I'm just so curious how they met. I feel like it either has to be the most random place ever - like a Costco or they met through mutual friends at a party. We all know how good they are for each other, but how did they meet, and who asked who on a date?!

HELLO this ask was sent ages ago but I got so genuinely fixated on the idea and wanted to make it perfect because holy fuck yes

Masterpost pinned!

Remus had a plan for Dorcas and their girlfriend Marlene’s Halloween party. Namely, stick with Lily.

It lasted a good 5 minutes, until Lily spotted people she knew and somehow managed to disappear, because of course she did.

Remus wasn’t bad at talking to new people, pretty social on a good day; he was just high and bored, honestly, mostly just wanting to stand in the corner and observe. For the most part, everyone was pretty much the same, drinking and talking, a fair few people dancing. Remus stood and watched as people drifted over to the drinks table, almost everyone winding up with a drink in their hand.

Almost.

All apart from one guy who seemed wrapped up in his own world. He had his phone in his hand, and seemed to get progressively more irritated as he typed, until he finally tapped it aggressively and held it to his ear. Remus almost felt compelled to look around everyone, watching as the guy argued into the phone, running a stressed hand through his long black hair as he spoke, before crossing the room.

He was quite clearly headed directly for the corner Remus was stood in, probably looking for somewhere discreet to ‘talk’, and something in Remus knew they should move out of the way, but they didn’t want to. Whether it was him being much too nosy or not, he was pretty sure he was staying, as the guy almost walked directly into Remus, finally coming in earshot of them.

“Of all days to ‘work up the courage’ to tell me, fucking halloween? Never, in my entire bloody career, have I so desperately wanted to murder somebody! Christ!” He paused, eyes sliding shut as he took a deep, seething breath. He seemed ready to say something slightly quieter, when his face shifted. Oh, the other line had really pissed him off. “No, it’s not nothing! It’s just half of my motherfucking findings! Right, you have to go into the lab. Now. Oh, I’m sorry, is that inconvenient for you? Here’s the thing, I don’t give one! I don’t care that it’s Halloween for you too! You’re the one who fucked everything up! If it’s not either fixed or perfectly recreated by Monday, you bet your arse you’re not welcome back in my bloody lab. Now I’m going to try and salvage the scraps of tonight, so get working!” He pulled the phone from his ear and hung up quickly, before leaning with his back against the wall and scrubbing his hands over his face with a sigh. Remus knew they shouldn’t speak, it would seem really weird, he shouldn’t-

“That didn’t sound good.”

Fuck.

He watched as the guy jumped a mile, finally noticing Remus. The moment Remus got to look at him, really look at him, Remus felt something in him shift.

He was drop dead gorgeous.

Now, Remus had gotten past the self-loathing part of their life, actually found himself liking his own face when he looked in the mirror, but this guy? Everything paled in comparison to him. If his black hair tumbling down to his shoulders and framing his face wasn’t enough, he had strong, warm silver eyes, an insanely defined jaw and full lips.

Lips that Remus really needed to stop staring at.

He had really come to the conclusion that he wasn’t one for instant attraction, and this guy had just swanned in and proved him wrong. It was like the universe was laughing in their face. They weren’t delusional, it had been a good while since he had found someone that attractive. Still, he was reasonably good at staying composed. It wasn’t like anybody could tell they were high, so clearly they were a pretty good actor.

“Yeah, no, it wasn’t good at all.” The guy answered, offering Remus a small smile. “I just found out one of my newest hires accidentally grabbed a sample I’ve been working on for ages, thinking it was theirs, and now I’ve lost months of work.” He finished with a groan, turning away and letting his head hit the wall with a dull thud.

“Just blame Mercury.” Remus answered simply. When the guy looked at him blankly, Remus elaborated. “Mercury’s in retrograde?”

“I… have no clue what that means.” He answered, and Remus never thought he’d be endeared by someone not knowing astrology. They smiled, wanting more and more to know everything about him.

“Mercury’s backward motion really fucks with life.”

“Right, right.” Remus glanced at him, finally taking in his outfit. He was wearing black leather trousers and a tight black shirt. Remus frowned, confused.

“What are you supposed to be dressed as?” He asked. The guy turned to him.

“A dog?” He tried. “I had ears, but Marlene stole them.”

“Ah, I had a feeling you were Marlene’s friend. I went to school with Dorcas, so I figured I’d have met you before if you were Dorcas’.” Remus observed calmly, the guy watching them carefully.

“What’s your name?” He asked, and Remus almost thanked every god on the spot for how straight to the point the dog man was.

“Remus. Remus Lupin. Yours?”

“Sirius Black.”

“Well, Sirius Black, I want to see your costume with the ears.” He answered.

“Yeah, yeah sure!” Sirius answered brightly. “Marlene’s gone awol, so I can send you a picture? What’s your number?”

Oh.

Smooth.

He was a smooth motherfucker, and Remus was pretty sure Sirius was going to be sticking around.

#THEM #Remus so casually bringing up Mercury’s retrograde #also seeing Sirius scream into a phone and going ‘that one. I want that one.’#they’re just so #UGH #hippie Remus x scientist Sirius #I love them so much they are my therapy #if anyone’s wondering Remus didn’t have a costume on he was wearing a long cardigan he crocheted himself #wolfstar #sirius black #marauders #wolfstar oneshot #remus lupin #remus x sirius #young marauders #moony x padfoot #atyd marauders #marauders oneshot

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whiskyanndboots · 8 months

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SNAP Summary- You’d never seen Dean so angry, especially at you and he was a pretty aggressive guy. Companion piece to Not A Fool & Part 2

Pairing- DeanXReader Warnings- 18+ only, swearing, canon divergence, violence.

A/N- This has been sitting in my drafts for many months and I thought I should just let it be, not edited, sorry.

The hunt, in your opinion, hadn’t gone too badly, or rather as badly as it could have. Both of you were breathing and still in one piece so you couldn’t really say it was a total fail.

You thought back to the morning two days ago when you and Dean had driven out of Harvelle’s farm, the sun was out and Dean was smiling wide in the passenger seat making jokes to try and coax you out of your bad mood. You’d stopped for food as soon as you drove into town, Dean had practically waxed poetic about some Baconater burger he’d discovered on his travels, he’d been right too, you’d have dreams about that burger. Then it was straight to business to get the low-down on the deaths from the local cops, the case was a slightly confusing one, the timelines were off somehow, but neither you or Dean could put your finger on it.

You wondered now if Sam had been here instead of you if the surprise ambush would have been avoided.

Dean had kept good on his promise to let you take the reins and up until the point where you were being strangled by one of three serial killing spirits in an abandoned run down house in the woods, it had actually been fun.

It had been a nice reprieve from how things had been before you went to Harvelle’s. Dean had been different, more closed off from you then he had ever been, and you couldn’t for the life of you figure out why.

You and Dean had fallen into friendship quite easily, well after the initial drunken come-on and subsequent rejection on your part. Dean had even taken you out to buy cassette tapes, on one of their visits to Bobby’s, when you told him you were thinking of putting something more modern than a tape player in the Chevelle. He’d been passionately against you screwing ‘her’ up and even more offended when you told him you’d never listened to any Motorhead or Black Sabbath. So off you both went into Sioux Falls to a small old school cassette store where he picked out a bunch of Dean Winchester approved albums while explaining why you needed them, no Led Zeppelin though since the store was out much to Dean’s dismay.

As Sam and Dean were packing up to leave the next day Dean had walked over to you a little sheepishly and handed you a cassette of his favourite Zeppelin album with orders not to break it or there’d be dire consequences. Sam had looked slightly bewildered so you figured this was not a common gesture from Dean.

After that day you realised you may have judged him a little too quickly, yeah Dean was definitely a womanising, whisky loving, charming goofball with a whole lotta baggage, but above all that he was undeniably a very good man.

You had since genuinely looked forward to the sound of the Impala rolling into Singer’s Salvage Yard knowing that you’d get to hang out with Sam and Dean for atleast a night, well if Bobby didn’t banish you on the grounds of ‘serious shit’ they had shown up for. You didn’t mind about that at all since you weren’t interested in getting involved in any demon or angel business at the time.

Alot of good that did now that Lilith was on your ass.

When Dean found out Lilith wanted you he decided to start treating you as if you didn’t have a competent bone in your body. He was harsher with you and you weren’t really in the mood for his bullshit considering you were still having a hard enough time accepting that you couldn’t just tap out when it got too scary now.

So you had enjoyed the shift back to the old Dean for the last 48 hours.

You glanced over at Dean who was driving your car, you didn’t think it wise to argue with how tightly clenched his jaw was, it was a stark contrast to the easy smile you’d seen from him as he sat shotgun on the way here. Dean hadn’t spoken to you since he half carried you out of the burning house. You pulled away the jacket you were pushing against the gash on your shoulder, blood had seeped through the fabric of your long sleeved shirt starting up near your shoulder and ending near your elbow, you could just see the nasty cut through the rip. You didn’t even know what slashed you, once you entered the rundown house in search of bones to burn, in the basement according to a bunch a traumatised teenagers, Dean didn’t even have time to fully open the door to said basement before the ambush began.

You traced your fingers over your throat , it was already tender to touch. The feeling of being strangled was fresh in your mind, the tightening of whatever the spirit had wrapped around your neck from behind pulling hard and lifting you off the ground, gasping for air and desperately trying to get your fingers underneath it to loosen it’s hold. You don’t think you’d ever been so scared in your life, that was the first time you actually thought your number was up.

Movement caught your eye and you turned your head to look at Dean, his eyes were trained on the fingers on your throat, you dropped your hand into your lap and his eyes flicked up to meet yours. You took a deep inhale at the anger in them, you’d never seen Dean so angry, especially at you and he was a pretty aggressive guy. He quickly looked back to the road, but you saw his hand tighten around the steering wheel until his knuckles were white.

You were at a loss for any reason he was so mad at you, you did everything right, yeah you set the entire basement on fire in a panic, but it worked. Your own anger was starting to build inside your chest, you knew what was waiting for you back at the hotel room, you’d be getting a lecture about how this is the reason you shouldn’t be hunting alone. Honestly you will be the first to admit you didn’t want to hunt, you were perfectly happy safe and sound at Singer Salvage answering phones while Bobby was out on hunts and researching lore from Bobby’s infinite shelves of books.

Finally Dean swerved into the motel parking lot pulling the car into a space infront of the room he made you share with him, despite your protest about wanting a double bed. Dean turned off the car with a heavy sigh. He licked his lips like he was gearing up to say something, he moved to face you eyes flicking between your wounds, his face closed off again suddenly and he was out of the car before you could speak.

You followed him silently to the door as he roughly unlocked it and pushed it open, you closed the door behind you awkwardly standing with your back to it still pressing your jacket to your arm.

“How bad is it?” Dean asked flatly as he sat on his bed.

“It’ll need stitches” you replied, your voice hoarse.

“Shower” Dean gestured to the bathroom door as he ran a hand over his face looking anywhere but at you. You didn’t answer as you grabbed your duffel bag and slammed the door behind you.

You balked at your own reflection in the mirror, you’d been through it alright, you looked like hell. You leaned toward the mirror to inspect the bruise that was already a dark purple around your throat and winced. You let out a long sigh and got to work on getting your shirt off, some of the blood had dried so not a pleasant experience.

The cut looked pretty gnarly, it ran from the top of your shoulder stopping about half way down your bicep. After your shower you went through your bag finding the only black tank top you’d packed and a pair of grey sweatpants, you blowdried your hair grateful the smoke smell hadn’t hung around, you tried to focus on the task at hand rather than letting yourself get worked up at the conversation awaiting you behind that door.

You finally had to force yourself to leave the bathroom, Dean was sitting at the small table in the room, he was holding a bottle of whiskey that you knew was much fuller this morning. Dean kicked a chair infront of him forward gesturing for you to sit. “This is gonna hurt like a bitch” Dean said as you sat down.

“I figured” You replied taking the bottle of whiskey from him and taking a swig, your face screwed up at the burn in your throat, but you took another for good measure.

He took the bottle back of you and placed the opening at the top of your gash, you jerked away as the liquid ran down your arm, holy shit it burned.

“Gotta stay still” Dean murmured as he picked up the needle and thread

You quickly pulled your hair aside staring straight ahead trying to make your body relax as Dean used his hand to move your left arm where he needed. You felt the cold tip of the needle press against your skin and braced yourself. Dean hesitated for a moment before breathing deep and pushing it in.

“If you need to stop tell me” This was the least monotone he'd sounded all night.

“Just get it done” You closed your eyes and tried to breathe deep, you’d sit through this in one go from sheer pride at this point.

“How’s the face?” You asked, he’d gotten a nasty hit to the jaw and a bruise was starting to darken across his cheek.

“Fine” Dean answered bluntly.

You breathed out a deep sigh, no conversation then.

The silence was making you nervous, the suspense of waiting for him to say something, anything was getting too much. You dreaded the argument the whole car ride, but now that you were getting the silent treatment you were ready to hash it out

“Done” Dean said throwing the needle on the table. You felt your body relax in relief, it was still throbbing like hell.

You turned your head, the bruise on his face was not fine it was spreading further by the minute, His expression was tense and his movements sharp. He pushed himself out of his chair and walked towards the small kitchenette grabbing his wallet.

“Dean" you stood to walk towards him, resigned to get him out of this shitty mood.

“Hungry?” He answered gruffly.

“Dean” You said again more forcefully.

“I’m goin’ to get pizza” he darted past you for the door.

“You gonna give me an ‘i told you so’ or not?” You ran a hand through your hair, you were getting bored of this already.

“What’s the point of that, huh?” He whipped around so quick you stepped back even though he was five feet away from you, you weren’t expecting him to raise his voice so suddenly. He’d spent the last hour quietly seething, now he was boiling over.

“Well, you obviously have something on your mind, Dean” you dragged your voice out provokingly.

“Damn right I do, everyone’s lost their frickin’ minds sending you out here alone, especially you! You just want me to sit on my ass at Ellen's until I have to come find whatever's left of you in some Podunk back road town?” He crossed the room towards you, his face dark, you could understand why people and monsters feared Dean Winchester, but you’d be damned if you backed down now.

You leaned back against the kitchen counter arms crossed tightly infront of you. Your arm was throbbing harder from the movement and Dean’s asshole mood was really pushing you to the edge of your patience.

“What the fuck is your problem?” harshly left your mouth before you could stop it.

“You know what my damn problem is, if you were on this hunt alone-“

“No” you interrupted loudly “not just today, I mean in general”

Dean gave you an incredulous look that finally set you off.

“Are you really gonna stand there and pretend like nothings going on? I’m not stupid Dean” You tightened the grip on your crossed arms trying very had not to raise your voice.

“(Y/N) i’m- ” Dean rubbed his fingers across his eyes.

“Because you’ve been pretty damn distant lately and call me crazy I thought we were friends” you pushed yourself off the counter closer to Dean.

“We are, that’s why i know you can’t handle this”

“What do you expect me to do, just stand there and scream? ‘cause it sounds like that's exactly what you’re asking me to do!” You were yelling now.

“I'm asking you to stay out of it, lay low and let us deal with it, this isn’t your fight” Dean was yelling back at you, you'd never admit out loud the shivers that went down your spine at the deep timbre of his voice.

“It is my fight, Lilith made sure of that”

“Well if your best is anything like tonight you’re going to get yourself killed!“ He roared.

“Do you think i want this? I wanted to go home, do you know how scared I am?” Your voice broke but, you were too angry to be embarrassed about it “I’m very aware that when she comes for me there’s no stopping her, but i’m atleast gonna go down fighting"

“What do you mean there’s no stopping her?” Dean snapped back stepping closer, his face incredulous and strained.

“It’s Lilith, no one can!” Your voice sounded half hysterical, Dean of all people should know this.

“Just do what i say and she wont get anywhere near you, stop making this so fucking difficult!” Dean’s was was getting more rage filled by the second.

“Oh, so your gonna protect me from Lilith, are you?” You replied raising your eyebrow. Dean’s jaw clenched, he was so close to you now you could feel his breath on your face “how exactly is that gonna play out? because from what i’ve seen every attempt to stop her hasn't worked” You yelled the last part so loud you were surprised at yourself.

“If Lilith wants you she’s gonna have to go through me and she ain’t gettin’ through me” Dean’s bellowing, deep voice echoed across the room. The resolute way he spoke sent shivers down your spine, his expression was wrathful. The full weight of those words hit you so hard you took a deep breath in surprise, it hadn’t occurred to you that Dean was willing to put himself in between you and the most powerful Demon they knew.

“I-“ You opened your mouth to respond, but a strangled, embarrassing, noise left it instead, you couldn’t think of a response with Dean’s determined gaze staring you down. You could feel the heat of his skin on your own, suddenly you felt much too close to Dean and needed to get space between you.

You didn't have time to put the thought into action before Dean shot forward pressing his mouth hard onto yours, his hands grabbing your arms. It only lasted a moment before he was pulling back and letting you go, he looked as surprised as you must of, only you felt yourself following his mouth, heat burning red across your face when you realised what you were doing.

You stopped yourself from following through, startled at your own reaction, but didn’t move back. Dean’s eyes bounced from your lips to your eyes and back again before he once again moved to fill the space between you, mouth pressing over yours.

There was nothing, slow or sweet about it, your lips moved against each other harshly, needy and wet. His hands were on your waist then sliding up your back pulling you closer until you were pressed together, you still felt like you couldn’t get close enough.

Dean pushed you backwards until your back hit the kitchen counter, his mouth left yours pressing opened mouth kisses along your neck, it was all too much, your arm was throbbing with pain, your chest was heaving and small breathy moans and whimpers were leaving your throat as his hands slid underneath your shirt.

You were pulling at his flannel wanting him closer while your other hand ran through his hair, suddenly you were moving upwards as Dean placed you down on the counter, he stared at you for a moment, green eyes wide and full of want before smashing his lips back onto yours, his hands were back caressing a path up your spine while you held his jaw in both of yours.

Your shirt was being roughly pulled off, your arms suddenly over your head as his gaze took in the sight of your breasts, you hadn’t even bothered with a bra after your shower. He swiped his thumb over your hardened nipple making your body jump at the spark that traveled down to your core, his eyes flicked up to yours dark and needy as he kissed you again, softer than before. He moved his lips back to your neck as his one of his hands cupped your breast, he was driving you crazy. You pushed his flannel off his shoulders and yanked at his black t-shirt until he lifted it over his head.

A noise pierced through your clouded head, a phone was ringing. You turned your head to look to the side until you saw your phone lighting up on the kitchen table, before you could put together a cohesive thought Dean’s hand grabbed your chin and pulled your face back to him, tongue diving into your mouth.

His arm circled around your back and lifted you off the counter until you were pressed tightly to his chest, his skin against yours made you gasp as he let out a deep moan into your mouth, your legs tightened around him holding on. Your head was foggy, you don't think you’ve ever wanted anyone more than you wanted Dean right now.

He ducked his head down flattening his tongue across your nipple, you threw your head back and buried your fingers in his hair as he started sucking, too much, too much but still not enough. You’d never been kissed like this, never been touched like this before. He was so strong and broad, his arms full of muscle, he made you feel safe and warm.

“Dean” your voice sounded hoarse and breathless.

He dropped you down to the counter still pulling you close and making sure your skin was touching everywhere.

“Never thought you'd let me do this” He breathed between wet kisses “Never thought you’d want to”

“I do” You gasped desperately reaching for his belt, he let our a noise almost like a growl and grabbed at your sweatpants and underwear pulling both of them down your thighs at once, you were aching for him, you couldn't wait anymore.

Suddenly he was gone.

Dean had moved back and slammed his hand on the counter beside you before stalking across the room to a bedside table, to his phone.

That’s right your phone had been ringing, now Dean’s was.

“Ellen” Dean answered his voice annoyed.

Ofcourse, you hadn't told anyone you were both fine. A long deep breath filled your chest as you slid of the kitchen counter, knees almost buckling. You pulled your sweatpants back up, Dean was watching you closely still talking to Ellen chest bare and belt undone, you swallowed hard wishing he'd hurry up.

You were kicking yourself for not calling Ellen when you got back, she'd be worried sick by now, Bobby and Sam would be convincing themselves it wasn't silly to drive out here, Jo would be climbing the walls just like you would be if she was out here.

Cold, hard dread washed over your body like ice.

Jo.

You had promised Jo nothing was going on with you and Dean, that you didn't see him like that, you had promised it wouldn't be a problem and she had told you it didn't really matter, but you knew it did.

You told her to go for it and she'd shoved you away cheeks going uncharacteristically red and told you Dean didn't see her like that.

You told her he'd be crazy not to and she'd looked hopeful. She'd said "Sometimes I think he might, but there's always something in the way.

"Just....long day" Dean was saying to Ellen.

Dean was watching you, eyes roaming over your naked chest, swollen lips and surely messy hair. You covered your breasts with your arms feeling very vulnerable all of a sudden.

Dean was going to come back over here when he hung up that phone and you knew if he touched you again you weren't going to be able to stop this deep aching from taking over.

You saw the phone fall from Dean's ear almost in slow motion, already stepping back towards you looking purposeful, like he knew exactly what he wanted.

You darted for the bathroom door slamming it closed behind you and almost falling over in your haste, you couldn't do this. Not to Jo, not after you told her you didn't see Dean like that, told her to 'go for it'.

She trusted you.

"(Y/N)" Dean knocked on the door.

"I... I just need a minute" You called back panicked.

"Are you.. you okay?" Dean sounded worried.

"I'm fine" You moved to look at yourself in the mirror.

You looked ravished, your cheeks warmed with colour at the sight of your swollen lips and flushed skin, you covered your breasts ashamed with yourself.

You sat down on the toilet, head in your hands taking deep breaths, How did this happen?

You never thought Dean would want you like this, you couldn't say you hadn't entertained the thought. When you'd met Sam and Dean you'd had plenty, but after Dean had come onto you after one too many beers at Bobby's you'd rejected him and his invitation to be a notch on his bedpost.

If anything you'd thought your only chance with a Winchester was Sam, you got along wonderfully, but even that was a stretch, you never thought you were Sam's type let alone Dean's.

Men like Dean Winchester didn't want girls like you, they ended up with strong women like Jo. You were the girl who stayed on the side lines and did research, you weren't brave, you were terrified half the time.

Your not sure how long you sat there contemplating your betrayal until the sound of the hotel door closing brought you back to reality. You listened for movement for a brief moment before slowly opening the bathroom door. The hotel room was empty, Dean was gone.

You picked up your tank top from the ground, pulling it over your head as you walked to the window, pushing the curtain aside. The Impala was still parked there, no sign of Dean.

You weren't really sure what your next move was here.

It was surely going to be awkward conversations and half hearted embarrassed smiles from now on. Maybe Dean wouldn't even bring it up again, maybe once his head had cleared he'd realised this was a mistake too.

Maybe you wouldn't even have to talk about it at all.

You turned the TV on to distract your wandering mind, it had been probably half an hour before you heard keys in the door. Your body tensed and your heart started racing, but you remained sitting casually on the chair.

Dean walked into the room holding a pizza and a six pack, he stood there awkwardly for a moment like he was unsure if he should come in.

"Great, i'm starving" You smiled up at him willing yourself to be normal.

Dean seemed to relax a bit and moved to join you.

"Hope you feel like plain ol' pepperoni" He said while opening the box and grabbing a piece before thudding back into his chair and cracking a beer.

"What did Ellen want?" You asked while picking up a piece of your own.

"She was just checking in, got worried" Dean answered, the pizza seemed too thick to swallow.

You ate in silence for a while, pretending like everything was fine, just like you wanted. Naturally Dean didn't let things lie.

"Listen (Y/N)" Dean spoke with a sudden confidence as the credits for whatever sitcom was on started rolling on tv.

"Dean, can we not?" You pleaded turning to look at him imploringly.

"I don't really want to do this either, but I think we should clear the air" He answered.

"It's fine Dean" You replied lifting the side of your mouth in a small, reassuring smile.

"You locked yourself in the bathroom" He replied taking a sip of his beer not making eye contact.

"I just, I just didn't want to do something while things were....heated that we'd regret later" You couldn't even look at him while you said it.

"Regret" Dean mumbled looking down at the floor.

You were so bad at this.

"Dean, you're my friend, I hope you are anyway" You frowned, Dean looked up over at you surprised.

"Ofcourse I am" He looked half pained.

"Can we just pretend this didn't happen?" You begged.

He was quiet for too long, staring at you with that wounded look you hated.

"Sure" He took a long swig for his beer before wiping his mouth and standing.

"Going to grab a shower and hit the hay, long day tomorrow" He continued while grabbing his duffle-bag and closing the bathroom door behind him.

That had to be done, it was only ever going to be sex with Dean, you wouldn't risk your friendship with Jo for one night with Dean Winchester.

Being the one on the otherside of a locked bathroom door was oddly lonely.

#dean x female!reader #dean x you #spn reader insert #spn imagine #dean winchester #supernatural #Dean Winchesterxreader

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