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zepskies · 1 year ago

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This is more of a Sam and Dean request than a reader and Dean request but what about Sam having a crush on Dean's gf? How would he react to that, I am honestly CRAVING angst and this is the angstiest, is that a word, thing I could think of, I am so sorry if you don't like angst or this makes you uncomfortable!!!

Oh my God. You killed me with this one, hun. 😫😫 I have another SB imagine coming next week, but I thought I'd put out this one for Dean to break it up a bit.

Pairing: Dean W. x Reader, one-sided Sam W. x Reader Word Count: 1,500

Imagine: You are Dean's one exception.

Sam knows it's wrong.

You're smart, with a degree in history that aids them well on hunts.

You're sharp, with a smart mouth that rivals Dean's (and keeps him on his toes).

But you're also kind. You take care of him and Dean with all the feminine grace and care they've never had in their lives.

Sam realizes it when he's up until 3 a.m. in the bunker's War Room. He's sat at the table, researching, eyes bleary, hands cramping from turning pages. And he finds a mug of hot tea sliding next to his idle hand on the table.

You're there with a smile and a hand on his shoulder. "Workin' hard or hardly working?"

Sam clears his throat and nods, chuckles a little. "I'm good." He eyes the mug. "Thanks, though I might need something stronger."

You eye him with gentle reproach. "Nope. Green tea is better for you this late at night. You really should go to sleep, Sam."

Sam tacitly agrees, but only because he can feel the warmth of your hand through his clothing, and it makes his face warmer than the tea. He watches you walk away, notices the curve of your ass in those little shorts. He can imagine your warm hands on his body, caressing him. He can imagine letting his lips graze your skin, exploring you, then devouring you.

And that's when his thoughts stutter to a halt. Sam inwardly cringes.

Despite his sleep-deprived brain, he's reminded that you're traveling down the hall to the room you share with his brother, and for Sam, it's nothing short of torture.

Because he realizes then that he isn't just fond of you. He doesn't love you like an older brother, or even a quasi-brother-in-law. He wants you.

Again, Sam knows it's wrong...but he can't help it. It's one of the saddest cliches in the fucking book. You're his brother's girl, and he wants you for himself.

And it's getting harder to hide it from Dean. They know each other too well -- a result of having no one but each other, but more practically, having lived in such close quarters for so long before they discovered the bunker.

When Sam gets hurt on a hunt, the cut is at a bad angle. He can't quite reach, so you dutifully come around and gently move his hand out of the way to do the stitch yourself. You tsk at him in playful disappointment. "I swear, it's a wonder you and Dean aren't walking patchwork quilts at this point."

Sam chuckles through his nose, wincing when the movement pulls on the stitch. You shoot him a stern look. "Stop moving."

"You're the one making me laugh!" he says, smiling incredulously.

"I don't accept excuses," you retort. "Keep still, please."

"Yes, ma'am," Sam says, his breath hitching for a different reason as he feels your soft hands along his side. He plays it off as pain. "Sorry," you murmur more sincerely. He tells you it's okay. His gaze flicks up, unconsciously finding Dean's face across the room.

He's just finished cleaning a cut on his hand. But he's been watching; Sam can tell. Dean's too perceptive not to notice Sam's discomfort. He probably even knows why. Sam can see a glint of it in Dean's eyes, the stoic front of his face.

"There we go!" you say in satisfaction, and you pat Sam's bare arm. He gives you a wan smile. "Thanks."

"You done, sweetheart?" Dean asks. You get up from your seat by Sam. "What do you need?" you ask.

"You. Come 'ere," he says with a smile, giving you a beckoning finger. "I felt that knot on the back of your head earlier. Think you're slick?"

You huff, but you also smile, in the way you only do for Dean. Sam watches you get up and go to Dean, who touches your cheek, stroking with a thumb first. Then he parts your hair to inspect the back of your head, and you wince a bit. You did fall pretty hard, now that Sam thinks of it. He frowns.

Dean lets out a deep breath. "You've got a nasty bump. You're taking it easy tonight, got it?"

"Yeah? Gonna help me relax?" you whisper. But Sam still hears you, because apparently no one taught you how the hell to whisper.

Dean smirks. "Watch it. I'll think you're flirting with me."

You give him a coy smile as your hand travels up his chest, between the open edges of his plaid shirt, then all the way down, to tease at his belt. "Believe me, when I do, you'll be the first one to know."

Dean's smirk deepens, but his eyes are softer. He closes a hand around yours and brings it to his lips. You lean up and request, wordlessly, for a kiss. Dean obliges you, capturing your lips with a soft kiss.

He eventually breaks from you, only to press his lips to your forehead next, closing his eyes with a sigh. He doesn't like it when you try to hide your injuries from him. You just don't want him to worry so much.

You smile and rest against his chest afterwards. It's clear as day what your heart holds.

It's hard for Sam to watch. His throat constricts, but he takes pains to avert his gaze.

He's so full to the brim with this that he sees no other recourse. He catches Dean alone in the kitchen and tries to make a confession. "Dean, we need to talk."

"Can it wait 'til I'm done?" Dean's plating up some stovetop mac and cheese -- your favorite.

"You're done cooking," Sam points out. Dean looks up at him. "We're doing a little dinner in bed situation. I made her promise to take it easy."

Sam admires the way Dean takes care of you. He really does. But it's also like a small oyster knife twisting in his gut. "Good. I'm glad," is all he says. "Yeah, we can talk later."

"Later" doesn't come for a long time. Weeks, in fact. But every time he tries to broach the problem, Dean finds a way to wiggle out of having the conversation. Always a distraction. A hunt. A fire you almost started in the kitchen. Being "in the middle" of something -- something in the bedroom that you insist needs Dean's immediate attention. Sam gives up for a while after that.

But Winchesters are nothing if not goddamn stubborn. Sam finally catches Dean alone in his room for once. You've gone to the grocery store, leaving the brothers alone in the bunker, but not for long, so Sam needs this chance.

"Dean, can we talk?"

Dean looks up at his brother from where he sits on the edge of his bed. He taps his knee, releases a breath. They both know what this is.

"Are you gonna do more than talk?" Dean asks. It's not what Sam expects. "What?"

"Whatever's on your mind, are you ever gonna do something about it?" Dean asks.

Sam stares back at his brother. He thinks. Hard. He's flipped back and forth for months. If he tells you how he feels, it's over. Things will never be the same between the three of you. It'll confuse you. It might even hurt you. It'll hurt Dean. Sam loves you both, if in very different ways.

So Sam is a bit deflated when he raises his resigned gaze and meets his brother's. "No."

After a moment, Dean nods. "Then we've got nothing to talk about."

But... Sam wants not to want you. Not to love you. Deep, deep down, a large chunk of him feels that he shouldn't have to hide himself. That you have a right to know the depths of what he feels, and what he feels for you.

"I see you're not convinced," Dean says dryly. Sam is silent, until Dean sighs and beckons him over. Sam obliges and sits down next to his older brother, the man he's looked up to (at least metaphorically) his whole life.

"I'd give my life for you. You know that. Right, Sammy?" Dean says. "If I couldn't tear the world apart, I'd lay myself out flat."

Sam sighs. "Dean..." Of fucking course he knows that. Dean already had given his life for him once. Remembering that only adds to Sam's guilt.

Dean meets Sam's gaze directly then. "But this is where I draw the line. She's my line," he says. His face is almost stoic, but his eyes are filled with unyielding fire. "I'm not layin' down on that. Not for you. Not for anyone."

Sam's heart clenches with every kind of pain, but he's also never respected his brother more. He nods. "I get it."

"No, you really fucking don't," Dean says. He's more than serious. "I mean it, Sam. I'll break your damn nose."

After a long moment, Sam nods. He knew Dean loved you. Of course he did. But this is the first time Sam truly understands how deeply. How completely. It's more than jealousy can fathom.

Sam realizes then that he lost, even before he began.

AN: Whew! 😮‍💨 I got way deeper into this than I expected to. Poor Sam. 😭 But I hope this scratched your angsty itch, my dear!

Read the Sequel

Here's the requested sequel to this: Sam crosses the line.

Also, if you want to read the reverse of this (Dean is in love with Sam's girlfriend): Dean gives you an impossible choice.

Dean Winchester Imagines

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Dean Tag List:

@hobby27 @this-is-me19 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesdeanvessel @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @ades106 @emily-winchester @deans-baby-momma @melancholictearz @luvs4dria @nic-kolas @katherineann83 @sleepyqueerenergy @wayward-lost-and-never-found @tipthejar @ajjustice @thewritersaddictions @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons @antisocialcorrupt @adoringanakin

@theonlymaninthesky @teehxk @midnightmadwoman @mrshalverson2021 @iprobablyshipit91 @agalliasi @venicesem @waters-2567 @chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @solariklees @xsophianicolex @deansbbyx @mimaria420 @candy-coated-misery0731 @curlycarley @sarahgracej @bagpussjocken @ultrahviolentart @beskarfilms @skyesthebomb @deans-spinster-witch @tmb510 @iamsapphine

#ask me stuff #dean winchester #dean winchester imagine #being deans one exception #sam in love with deans girlfriend #sam winchester #sam winchester imagine #sam and dean #angst #unrequited love #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x female reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fic #spn #supernatural #zepskies answers

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the-kr8tor · 5 months ago

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I just saw that your requests are opennnn. Would you be so kind to write something with alt/goth/heavy lipstick wearer r kissing Hobie's face and leaving kissing marks?? Maybe Hobie kisses r back and since he's also a lipstick wearer he leaves marks on r face too! And mayyybe they're not fast enough (or they just don't care to be seen like that) and their friends are just like, damn those lovebirds

As always, only if you feel comfortable to! Or in case that you have a similar prompt I'd love to read it! Take care and drink water bb love ur brain 🖤🖤🖤

Aisbwijsjwjsjs so cute!! Thank you for requesting! ��

Pairing: Hobie Brown x gn! Reader/ Spider-Punk x gn! Reader

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader (except they're mentioned wearing makeup), lots of smooches, lovestruck Hobie, Fluff!

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

You're incredibly glad that Hobie made this long vanity for you and him because now you can enjoy the view of him sitting next to you while he puts on his show makeup complete with dark smudged eyeshadow and black lipstick. Your hand is paused around your own lipstick, (a deep wine shade to compliment the same colour of his guitar) eyes ogling his own expert hand as he glides the lipstick on his lips.

Hobie notices of course, he flicks his eyes over to you, mirroring your position, smiling at your lovestruck gaze. “Careful,” he rubs his thumb across your bottom lip, “you're droolin’”

You gasp, feigning offense but you don't move away from his touch even though he has smudged your own lipstick. “No I'm not.” Shaking your head, Hobie rubs the slight red tint from his thumb to his own lips. You swear your brain short circuited right there. “You…” you practically sigh the word, “smudged my lipstick.”

Hobie, being the menace that he is, hops his chair closer to you. Head on his palm, face leaning close, eyes that are illuminated by the vanity lights roam all over your pretty face that you've painstakingly made up for his show. ‘for inspiration while you're on stage,’ you said, but you'd be a distraction for him, the best kind of distraction. He can see your breath stuck in your throat. “I think I made it better actually.”

“No you didn't.”

He now has his arm looped around your waist. Metal bracelets and rings clinking against each other. “How'd you know? You haven't seen your face yet.”

You tilt your head, mimicking his position, smiling as he rubs the small of your back. “I can see myself perfectly in your eyes, Hobie.”

“Yeah, and it's a bloody good sight.” You already know what he's about to do before he even leaned close. Your hand is on his chest as he peppers your face with quick affectionate kisses, your giggles echo around the bedroom, fingers curled around his belt loops to pull him closer, making him peck you more fervently.

“We're gonna be late—!”

“I–” kiss, “don't,” he smooches the tip of your nose. “Care.” With his lips puckered over to the corner of your lips, he finishes with finesse by kissing your lips, mixing in both dark shades, a perfect combination of the two colours. “There, I never thought you'd look more gorgeous, but ‘ere we are, eh? I love that colour on you.”

You inhale for air, peripheral vision looking at the mirror, showing you your face that's covered in black kiss marks in various opacity. “I think you're right,” you nod with a mischievous glint in your eyes. “But I think we gotta match for this look to work.”

Hobie laughs wholeheartedly. “Hit me, love, make me look bloody fit.” His eyes are already closed, bracing for your kisses.

“That's impossible, you're the fittest man alive. Anymore than that you'll kill the crowd.” Your hands cradle his face, lips puckered, smooching him to hell and back.

—

Ned checks his watch for the umpteenth time, groaning impatiently at the empty space in the green room where Hobie is supposed to be already sitting with you lounging next to him.

“Where the fuck are those two?” He stomps his foot, “we need to be on stage in five!”

Yuri sighs, mindlessly playing with an imaginary drum to keep her hands occupied or she might end up eating the whole bowl of green skittles. “Don't know, let's hope they don't show up with hic—” the door creaks open. Yuri and James’ loud laugh echoes around the space. “Fucking hell! That's a lot worse than I thought!”

Ned twirls in his swivel chair, groaning, head in his hands. “What the hell am I supposed to do with you two? We're supposed to be punk!”

You grin at the band, hand holding Hobie's, squeezing him giddily. “What?” You both say simultaneously, looking oh so innocent. You look at Hobie who's covered in your kiss marks, lopsided smile on his lips, eyes shaped like hearts for you.

Hobie's heart is full at the sight of you covered in his own kiss marks, from your forehead to your neck, you're covered in it. He looks back at his band, Yuri's on the floor laughing with James who has his camera taking dozens of pictures, and Ned just shakes his head at the two of you. “C’mon now, before the crowd gets antsy, yeah?” They're gonna like his new look.

#request done #hobie brown x reader #spider punk x reader #the kr8tor's creations #atsv x reader #atsv imagine #atsv fanfic #atsv hobie #atsv fanfiction #hobie brown x gn!reader #spider punk x gn! reader #hobie brown imagine #hobie brown fanfic #hobie fanfic #hobie x reader #hobie fluff #x reader #fanfic

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crushedsweets · 2 months ago

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ej x nurse ann but in a will they won't they flirty friendship kinda way🤭 they are always trying to one up the other when it comes to medical work too so it's like lowkey flirty rivals.. do u see what I'm putting down Sweets?! Long story short I'd let them both operate on me

wait omg i was gonna draw smth for this but its been so long n im tired so i should jsut type.

also it feels so weird to go back to talking abt creeped lore cuz i feel like i have so much information but idk how/if anyone could emember it cuz its been sooo longgggg LOL so if anything is like "??? this isnt canon ???" its cuz my AU is very specific and changed etc etc. CREEPED DISCLAIMER WE ARE SO BACK

OKAY SOOOO. in my au specifically, nurse ann is a fake nurse! she was a red-room sorta cam girl (killed ppl for donos), and used a sexy-nurse-persona to draw in more views!

meanwhile, jack only got a few internships in at hospitals during his masters program before the sacrifice.

i could see jack meeting ann because he's close to Lulu and feels really protective over her. so he'd be guiding lulu back to the hospital one day, holding her hand and being all soft spoken while Lulu goes on her little ghostly rants.

and of course, Ann pops up !!! and she's so beyond horribly annoying!! quickly peering over Lulu's shoulder and being like "hi handsome, youre so tall, whats your name, your voice is so deep" whatever. i think it would embarrass the hell out of jack and he'd just be pretty stiff n awkward. polite, but awkward.

eventually he'd scamper off and ann would tell lulu to "get your little tall friend over here". and maybe it would work, HOWEVER, in my creeped canon, it wouldnt go anywhere beyond jack being like T_T and ann eventually giving up . she wont tim too bad.

HOWEVERRRR, if we diverged from creeped canon(which already diverges from creepypasta canon...) for the sake of ann x EJ...

i think it would be cute if she kept flirting, and he was kinda like Jesus Christ you are beautiful . LMFAOOO. and she picks his brain about college life and just him in general, out of curiosity, while he picks her on....well... being some sort of zombie demon vampire thing.

and she'd love him quietly pulling her apart at the stitches. making quiet little observations and scribbling notes and i think EVENTUALLY, he'd get to the point where he is just being snarky with her. theyll be sassing eachother and bickering and she'll be like "well if you keep talking to me that way im not gonna let you make a single note on me ever again" and he's like "you know that isnt true."

LOL.

WAIT. IM KIND INTO THEM RN WAAAIIIIIITTTTTTT

#waves my arms around frantically #mfw my anons always got me into new shit #creeped #asks #fuuuck

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maryangelex · 1 year ago

Text

Never Let Me Go (Pt. 3)

John Price x f! Reader

Part 4

A/N: this is a long one!!! but here's the smut i promised ;) believe me when i say there's plenty to come.

Song is In My Feelings because of course!!!!!

Happy reading <3

Warnings: NSFW like always, smut, a bit dubcon (?), price is a perv and steals panties.

Tomorrow at 8.

Those were the only words occupying your brain ever since they came out of John's mouth. The feeling of his fingers against your temple, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, was still tingling on your skin a whole day later.

You had gone to work the next day thinking of nothing but the upcoming date. Your cousin couldn't be more elated for you, even telling you to get out much earlier than your regular closing time just so you could get ready. You shook your head at the request but did not decline it, knowing that you would need ample time to soothe your nerves and perfect yourself before meeting with John tonight.

During your shift, you didn't expect to see him because of your plans. But he made sure to make a quick appearance at the cafe, and you couldn't complain.

As you wiped down the counter, you caught a glimpse of the man's hulking form through the large windows at the front of the store. Your cheeks were immediately pulled by the smile that grew across your lips. As he walked in, he returned the expression; a kind tight-lipped smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes.

And although you loved the man's handsome face, your eyes were more fixated on his toned body, an image you had not been graced with since you met him. You knew those sweaters weren't doing him justice. John had athletic wear on, sporting a tight thermal shirt that contoured every bulging muscle on his arms and chest. His hair was dampened by sweat and his cheeks lightly flushed.

You practically drooled at the sight. Something in you told you that he was only here to show off, too. Again, you couldn't complain.

His body pressed against the counter, propped on his elbows for support as he leaned forward to speak to you. It only made his solid biceps bulge even more under his shirt, looking like they'd tear through the fabric if he shifted ever so slightly.

"Mornin', John," you greeted him politely, raking your eyes along his body briefly and subconsciously.

His smile turned into a sly smirk as if knowing the effect he had on you.

"Mornin', love," he said, "thought I'd pay you a quick visit on my run."

"Too eager to wait for tonight?" you quipped, as you took a bottle of water from the cooler behind the counter, handing it over to him.

He accepted with a light 'cheers' as he downed it quickly before saying, "I just can't go on 'bout my day without seein' ya."

You rolled your eyes at him, suppressing your smile from growing wider, but your cheeks betrayed you by staining in pink.

When he finished his water in a final gulp, with a heavy sigh of relief, he tipped the empty vessel at you in gratitude before leaving.

"I'll see you at 8 tonight then, love," he said with certitude. You scoffed, giving him an affirmative nod as you tried to play it cool. In your best efforts to hide the nerves raging within you.

At 5 in the afternoon, your cousin couldn't push you out of the cafe any more adamantly. You kept insisting that you should stay otherwise she'd kill herself managing the closing shift. But of course, she succeeded at pushing you and locking you out, shooing you away and saying "Go put yourself together for the man!"

You raced to your apartment, kicking your shoes off peeling every layer of your outfit off and tossing everything in your hamper, and scampered to the shower to wash yourself as if you were covered in all sorts of grime. You washed your hair, exfoliated, did steps of your skincare you didn't even know you had and coated yourself in body lotion to the point you could have slid through the bars of a jail cell.

Some three hours to go, you stood in front of your closet wrapped in a towel, sorting through every article of clothing you owned with the sound of the hangers scraping across the rack echoing through your empty apartment. You cursed at yourself when nothing was deemed fit for the occasion. If anyone saw you right now and didn't know any better they'd think you were about to meet the king.

John had texted you earlier about the location of your date. You had noticed in the time you two had texted each other that the man misused emojis and had no concept of abbreviations of slang; you found it endearing.

Pub on Wright Street. x

Was marked as read on your phone screen.

You settled for jeans and a top you hadn't taken the tag off, in your best efforts to remain casual, still trying to put up the facade that you weren't as eager as you were to go on a date with John.

Truth be told, you hadn't gone on a date in months. Maybe the whole year, actually. There just weren't any blokes that you wanted to give the time of day. None of them left an impression on you the way John had, with his kind smile and his crystal eyes. He was magnetizing, and the fact that he made it seem like all his attention was reserved for you made you feel like putting some effort on him was worth it.

In your remaining time, you dabbed some makeup on your face and put some finishing touches on yourself. You felt strange when you looked at your reflection like a different person was looking back at you. But it was in the best way possible; this person was someone more confident and sure of herself. You only hoped John saw the same in you at your date. You hoped this was worth the effort.

Though the pub was relatively close, you called yourself a cab to preserve your look, not wanting to show up sweaty and disheveled to your date. By the time you made it, it was still 20 minutes till 8, and the sight of John already being there brought an immense sense of relief. Like a true gentleman, he had arrived much earlier than you had agreed. Maybe he was as nervous as you were and needed time to collect himself. But someone as suave as him, who stood with a confident posture, most likely did not feel an ounce of worry, you thought.

He opened the door of the cab for you, stretching out a hand to help you step out. He took your hand in his, and you felt the roughness of his palm. A calloused hand held your much silkier one with a supportive grip as you stepped out of the cab and scanned your eyes over him.

God, he's stunning, you thought. The smell of his cologne wafted into your nostrils, a teakwood mahogany scent mixed with the smokey smell of a cigar. It was intoxicating, making your chest burn like a bonfire. He was dressed quite handsomely, like always, too. Nothing fancy, but the fact that it was him wearing the clothes made him automatically attractive.

You felt his gaze on you as well, except he was much more shameless than you when it came to his observations.

"Fuckin' hell, love, you look gorgeous," he crooned. You gave him an embarrassed look and lightly swatted at his arm, which still hadn't let go of your hand. He chuckled lightly at the effect his words had on you.

"You don't look too bad y'self, John," your voice was almost a whisper, and he gave you a flattered smile and a squeeze of your hand.

He escorted you inside the pub, a booth for the two of you had even been arranged. To call the place a pub was underselling it. It was more like a newly opened restaurant with the inspiration being a pub. You'd be lying if you said you weren't impressed, and maybe even a little bit embarrassed to think John would pick a place any less grand than this for your date.

"This is a really nice place, I feel underdressed," you confessed as you looked around at the wooden details and old-fashioned decor.

John scoffed at your statement, "You couldn't be more perfect, doll." He hadn't taken your eyes off you as he sat next to you in the booth, his knee lightly bumping against yours. The close proximity to his grandiose presence made you feel claustrophobic like you were witness to a greater power next to you. The warmth of his body was impossible to close, and his much larger frame made you feel shielded from the world around you.

John ordered for the two of you. Normally this was a turn-off for you, to have a man dictate what you should eat. But the fact that it was him and that you sensed no ulterior motive of disrespect on his part, made it almost attractive, like it was a display of his leadership.

And you were glad he was the one to order when the food and drinks came around. He confessed he came to the pub often because he wasn't the best cook; the most he could make himself was a decent breakfast but was clueless when it came to proper meals.

"I'll come around here for dinner and to your shop for the sweets," he proposed.

"Or you can come by mine and save some money," you blurted out with a sense of confidence you didn't know you had. The alcohol of the drinks he ordered was certainly taking effect on you.

John smirked at your response, a hint of pink dusted his bearded cheeks, "I'll take your offer then, love." His voice was sultry as he took a sip of his bourbon, his eyes not straying from you through a half-lidded gaze.

The two of you cleared the plates of food between conversations. The alcohol made the flow of your banter easier and less reserved. Your laughs went from timid chuckles to your more natural, louder guffaws. It made John beam whenever he made you laugh, watching you bear your true, uncensored self to him bit by bit.

When the waiter took the plates away, you were only left with your third round of drinks, maybe fourth, actually; you'd lost count. Your ears and cheeks were flushed red and your mind was woozy. John was hardly fazed in comparison, now reclined back against the seat with a long, beefy arm outstretched behind you on the booth, almost as if claiming you to the public. It made you feel smaller than you were compared to him.

He brought his refilled glass of bourbon to his lips, his blue eyes rested on you, pupils masking his irises like a waning crescent moon. Could be the dim lights, you thought, or something else. You didn't want to assume, but you wouldn't be upset if it was the latter. You'd be kidding yourself to think you weren't starting to get hot and bothered from the mix of liquor and the fact that the man you were crushing on was mere inches away from you.

There was a beat of silence for a moment between the two of you. John's stare was burning your skin like a laser, and you avoided his eyes in fear you'd be turned to stone from looking at him. You minded your drink until he spoke up.

"I've got a confession to make, love," he sighed heavily, glugging the contents of his cup before continuing, "don't want us startin' off without any secrecy."

Your eyes now snapped up to his face, giving him a puzzled look.

Fuck, so he is married, your mind immediately jumped to conclusion. Of course, he was married, this is just your luck! And who wouldn't want to marry a man this fit? His poor wife--

"Please don't tell me you're married!" you blurted out impulsively. John's eyes widened and he took a moment before snorting and erupting into a boisterous laugh. The man was practically in tears as he rubbed a knuckle across his eye, deescalating from his bout of laughter.

"No, love, no need to worry 'bout that," he clarified. He turned to look at you again, adoration in his eyes, as if you making him laugh was carving even more space for you in his heart.

"Right, erm, sorry," you apologized in embarrassment but couldn't help but chuckle a bit with him, a bit of relief washing over you.

"Truth is, erm, the day we met I wasn't really lost in your bookstore," he started as he rubbed a hand behind his neck, "I knew exactly what I was lookin' for, it gets borin' on leave 'n I had a good book in mind..."

Your face was still puzzled as you watched him get flustered.

"I know how awfully corny this sounds but, I saw you behind the counter 'n thought 'Fuck I've gotta find a way to talk to this pretty thing', so I made m'self look like an idiot so I could talk to ya."

You paused for a second, taking note of multiple things in his confession. One, he thought you were pretty from the get-go. Two, he was itching to talk to you. And three, he made the effort, as silly as it was, to approach you. This big ol' bloke was just a big softie.

His face contorted into a concerned expression at your silence, his body shifting and tensing. "I know it sounds odd but-- I mean--" he stammered, interrupted by the sound of your laughter.

"Oh, John," was all you could manage shaking your head in disbelief at his confession. His body relaxed and the smile returned to his pink face. Suddenly, you felt no sense of nervousness around him, given that he was pining just as much as you all this time, feigning as much nonchalance as you had been (more successfully, though).

Once your laughter toned down you mindlessly placed a comforting hand on his thigh. The solid muscle beneath your touch flexed, the feeling shooting straight to the space between your legs. But you peered up at him with glistening eyes, giving him an affectionate look.

His eyes locked with yours and he brought a hand up to your cheek, giving the fat there a light scolding pinch, "Can't believe you're laughin' when 'm bein' vulnerable."

You giggled, "How could I not!" you retorted. The two of you shared another moment of pleasant silence as you stared at each other, feeling like you had known the man in front of you for decades. Like you were two old lovers on their nth date tonight.

"Y'wanna get out of here, doll?" he cooed, and your response was a nod and a hum.

John paid for the two of you, of course, despite your adamant protesting. His excuse was that you had given him too many teas, coffees, and sweets on the house, and scolded that that was no way to run a business.

When the two of you exited the pub, you stood facing him at the front of the place. He had draped your jacket over your shoulders and was adjusting the front to keep you cozy from the chilly wind. You felt woozy on your feet but nothing you couldn't handle. John's radiated body heat mixed with your jacket and the alcohol in your system was keeping you warm.

Once he was satisfied with how he placed your jacket on you, he moved his hand up to your face. Again, he tucked a stay piece of your hair back into your eat, but this time he brushed the knuckle of his index finger over your cheekbone. Then it trailed to under your chin. You peered up at him with your doe eyes and you were greeted with those shadowy eyes. There was something else in them, though, something beyond kindness, with more intensity, maybe even desire.

It made you feel a burning sensation in the pit of your stomach, the heat radiated between your legs as well. And you wanted John to help you put out that fire.

The man whispered, "Let me take ya home, dove." And you gave him an approving nod. He took your hand in yours again, tangling your fingers together as he took you back to your flat.

The two of you stood outside the front door. John's body was towering close to yours and he looked down at you with the lustful glint in his eyes. Your cheeks burned and your body ached for him to make a move, any move. You just wanted to feel his touch once again. Your hands twitched at your sides.

His hand went up to your hair again, twirling a strand between his fingers this time. Then it reached up to pet your hair on the side of your head. It found its way back to your cheek, brushing his knuckles against the soft, flustered skin, before cupping your face in one hand. You leaned against his touch. His other hand joined at cupping the other side of your face, his thumbs brushing your cheeks. You could feel his hot breath near your face.

"May I?" he whispered, his voice husky and seductive yet gentle and considerate. You nodded in his hands and let out the softest 'of course,' granting him permission.

John didn't hesitate the second you gave him your approval and leaned in to plant a kiss on your lips. It was gentle but didn't lack an ounce of desire. He pulled back for a moment to savor the first taste of your lips. Your hands were shyly placed on his waist, feeling the tenderness of his body as they scaled up to his back.

You rose up on the tip of your toes to meet his lips as he leaned back in to kiss you a second time. Your gesture showed him you were just as eager, that you had just as much desire to kiss him again and again. It was more passionate this time, less reserved. His lips were buttery soft and you melted in the taste of him, in the feeling of his mouth on yours. You felt bold enough to let your tongue pry between his lips and he welcomed it with his own.

You emitted a soft hum within the kiss. One of John's hands snaked around your waist, pulling you flush to his body. He was a furnace, the feeling of his body slotted against yours burnt you like hot coals. Your hands draped over his shoulders, melding your body with his as he kissed you deeply.

You pulled away from the kiss momentarily, only to catch your breath. John held your face with one hand and kept you close. The tip of his narrow nose brushed against yours. His eyes held yours as his thumb rubbed your cheek once more.

You anticipated him to ask to come inside your flat. Well, you were praying he'd ask you if he could come inside. The heat between your legs was simmering, the wetness was physically palpable and you ached for him, partially blaming the alcohol for your body's intense reaction.

"I'll see you tomorrow, love," John purred, planting a goodbye kiss on your other cheek. It took a moment for you to catch on when he stepped back from you and you felt the cold from his absence. Your mind was dumbfounded, but you nodded hesitantly before turning slightly to unlock your door. John flashed you one of his kind smiles before he went on his way back to his apartment. You returned it out of politeness, to not make it obvious how confused you were.

When you entered your flat and closed to door, you leaned your back against it and let out a heavy sigh. You felt like a knobhead for thinking someone like John would just fuck you on the first date. He wasn't just some bloke that had a one-night stand and never called you back, not what you were used to, and you kicked yourself for even remotely thinking John would do the same. He actually wanted to take his time with you and put effort into you. You rubbed your hand over your face in frustration and let out a groan.

But quickly you decided to look on the bright side, though, bringing your fingers to your kiss-swollen lips as you savored the lingering taste of John, and the memory of mere minutes ago when he kissed you flooding back into your mind and making you squeal.

That night you fell asleep giddy like a schoolgirl at the thought of seeing him again tomorrow.

It was very early in the morning when you came into the cafe. The door of the cafe was unlocked but the sign was still flipped on 'Closed' so no customers would come in as you got the shop ready. You had already gotten everything behind the counter arranged; pastries set out, espresso machine cleaned, counter wiped. So you moved on to the shelves to do some light dusting over the books, arranging a few of them that had been misplaced.

You heard the ringing of the bell, letting you know someone had just come in. You knew it wasn't your cousin because she had asked you to take over for the day since she went on a girl's trip, so you assumed it was a customer and politely raised your voice to say, "Sorry, we're still closed!". You peeked over to the door to see if you were correct to assume it was a confused patron only to find John walking past the entrance. He approached you with an apologetic smile.

" 'S just me, love, sorry for showin' up so early," he said, standing in close proximity to you now between the bookshelves. You smiled at him with a faint blush; it was hard not to see him differently after last night.

"No worries, John," you said, but your smile faded as concern crept on you, wondering what he was doing here. He seemed uneasy, fidgeting hands finding comfort in the pockets of his jacket. "Something the matter?" you asked softly.

" 'Bout last night, doll," he started. Your mind was racing again, worrying that he regretted kissing you, that he felt he made a mistake in kissing you or even asking you out or pursuing you to begin with. You were about to tell him it was alright, that you could pretend nothing happened, that you'd forget about it and return to normal.

"I shoulda gone inside with ya," he sighed. Now you were even more confused.

"What do you mean?"

"I spent all night kickin' m'self for not...askin' you to let me come into your flat." His hands came out of his pockets as he stepped closer to you, his body inching against yours the same way he did last night. You froze looking up at him, taking a couple of steps back as he was almost pressing his tall body against yours. You were now trapped between his large figure and the bookshelf behind you. John's hands found their way to your waist and you felt a ragged breath against your face, the smell of cigars flowing into your nose. You shakily placed your own hands on his strong forearms. The proximity of his body against yours pooled arousal in your underwear.

"J-John, I don't--" you stammered, confusion still persistent in your mind. He wanted to come inside with you, the same way you did?

"I couldn't stop thinkin' 'bout you, dove," he purred, lips brushing against your own, the hairs of his mustache tickling your upper lip. "I know y'wanted me to come inside with you, I saw it in your pretty face... s'that right?"

You nodded more hastily than you intended; your heart was beating out of your chest as your breath hitched. Fuck, did you want him, did you spend the rest of the night thinking of him, of the things he could have done to you if he had come inside. Your hands stroked up his arms and up to rest on his shoulders, gripping and lightly tugging the fabric of his jacket, as if beginning him to kiss you again in the seclusion of the bookshelves.

He complied and gave you a deep all-consuming kiss that you drowned in like a flood. John pulled away but kept his nose against yours and whispered into your lips, "Let me make it up to you, so you can forgive me, yeah?"

Your eyes widened as you watched the man kneel in front of you. His palms massaged the sides of your body, stroking the tender flesh of your outer thighs. He peered up at you with pleading, dark eyes, like a man begging for God's forgiveness on a church pew. You felt his burning touch on your skin, the sensation making your core flutter and dampen even more.

"J-John, what are you--" you gasped when you felt the wetness of his lips over your thighs as he peppered kisses over the soft flesh. You didn't know what to do with your hands (or yourself, for that matter) so you settled them over his broad shoulders, unsure if you should push him away or if you wanted to pull him closer to let him do whatever it is he wanted to do.

" 'M just apologizin', pretty girl," he cooed against your thigh. His hands scaled up your thighs, slithering under your mini skirt, grabbing the waistband of your knickers and dragging them down painfully slow, making sure to graze his knuckles against your skin. You watched his movements and he watched your flustered expressions react to every one of his actions.

When your knickers reached your ankles he helped you delicately step out of them, and he pervertedly pocketed the garment with a light smirk tugging at his lips. "Don't worry, I'll give 'em back to you next time, sweetheart." was all he said in that regard. Your pussy twitched at the gesture, making you bite your lip coyly as a small moan escaped you.

John folded the hem of your skirt up lightly as he kissed the inside of your thighs, teasingly close to your sopping sex. He gave the plump flesh light nips to taunt you further, loving the sounds that came out of you every time he did so. His rough hands kneaded at the flesh of your thighs before hooking one of your legs over his shoulder, making your bare cunt more exposed for him, granting him access.

You gasped when he buried his face between your legs, your skirt masking the rest of his face except for those clear blue eyes that feigned innocence as they peered up at you. His lips kissed your sex tenderly, the same way they had kissed your mouth just moments ago. You let out a low moan at the sensation, his facial hair brushing over your vulva made you shiver. Another tender kiss was planted against your slit, followed by another, and another.

"John," you begged, desperation surging in you. And who was he to deny you anything? So to please the pretty girl's request, his flattened tongue slowly lapped at your lips. You threw your head back, a slow moan emanating from your throat, and your fists clenching on the fabric on his shoulders.

"Fuckk, your pretty moans, baby," his voice was muffled. Another slow swipe of his hot tongue, this time the tip of his tongue was pointed and it slid between your folds, caressing your pleading clitoris. It made you jump lightly, and it only prompted him to lick over the sensitive bud even more.

Now the man hungrily licked your pussy, paying utmost attention to your swollen clit. His hands firmly held your thighs as he smothered himself with your cunt. The pace of his tongue quickened, and not an inch of your pussy was left untouched by his mouth.

You were made a mess of indecent moans as John devoured you, your hips lightly rutting against his face. You mentally thanked the security camera guy for not showing up to fix them, and you prayed that everyone passing by would read the 'Closed' sign and that the bookshelves shielded any outsider from the sinful act going on between you and John.

John alternated between piercing his tongue into the entrance of your pussy and suckling on your desperate clit. His eyes closed as he lost himself in your pussy, humming in pleasure as he savored your taste and drank in your moans. His hands snaked up your torso to knead at the tender flesh of your breasts, rubbing his thumbs over your pointed nipples through the fabric of your shirt.

"Perfect fuckin' pussy, baby...so fuckin' sweet," he said, not removing his mouth from you. You whined, one of your hands coming to grip at the hair on the crown of his head, pressing him further against your cunt which made him moan and go absolutely mad. He grabbed the underside of your thighs and draped both of them over his shoulders; the only things supporting your body were John's strong arms and the shelf behind you. Your other hand gripped the shelf behind you to find some leverage.

John was drunk on your juices, fervently eating you out. One of his hands snaked under you to press two thick digits against your entrance. His lips sucked mercilessly at your clit as he pumped your pussy with his fingers now. You practically screamed his name when you felt the intrusion.

"Love hearin' you say my name like that, sweetheart," he slurred, his fingers curling within your walls and pressing against that spongey spot inside of you that made you roll your eyes to the back of your head. You were so fucking close and John knew it.

"Be good 'n cum for me, darlin', he moaned, becoming more and more desperate to feel you clench around his fingers, to feel your juices coat his face.

And you did just that. With a few more pumps of his fingers and more laps of his tongue on your pussy, you were sent over the edge. You let out a final choked-out moan as your body convulsed against the shelf. Your thighs tightened and quaked around John's head the same way your walls clenched tightly around his fingers.

He hummed against your sex, slowing down as he let you ride your orgasm on his face and fingers; your slick dripping down your thighs and onto his face. Those ocean eyes lovingly watched your face contort as you reached your high. But you were too lost in euphoria to even notice; your body was almost going limp in John's hold and all you felt was overwhelming pleasure crashing over you.

You cursed breathlessly, trying to gather yourself. As you slowly came to, you could hear John's soft praises against your thigh, "Did so good f'me, love... my sweet girl." He planted tender, innocent kisses against your flesh as he praised you. He delicately helped you stand up on your own. He rose up to his full height and held you, offering you support on your shaky legs.

"Alright, darlin'?" he said, to which you nodded your head and managed to find your bearings. John chuckled at the sight of your helpless self. Something sadistic in him enjoying watching you like this, depending on him, basically.

You looked up at him, your pupils were still blown and your face was hot. That damned kind smile of his was plastered on his face, but there was a hint of malice hiding behind it. Smug bastard, you thought. You couldn't find any words to say to him, realizing what you just let this man do to you in the middle of your store.

"All's forgiven, then, love?" he had the nerve to say, smoothing the flyaways on your hair and brushing his knuckles over your cheek tenderly. You nodded sheepishly. You didn't even know what you were really forgiving him for, you were never upset with him to begin with, but with the indulgent pleasure he had just given you, you didn't mind forgiving him more often.

You averted his gaze, opting to look at your feet in embarrassment. And it was then that you caught a glimpse of the tightness in his pants. His hardened member peered back at you in the confines of his jeans. You looked up at him, cheeks flushed, silently asking him if he needed you to take care of him in return when your hand reached to palm him. He hummed, but his hand engulfed yours and brought it to his lips, giving them a soft kiss, beard still damp with your juices.

"Leave that f'next time, pretty," he chuckled. Next time, you thought, if it was anything like this then you couldn't wait for next time. You were already pining for more of John after having just finished all over his face.

You moved your hand and placed it on his cheek wordlessly; he leaned into your touch as he looked at you lovingly.

"Can I kiss you again, John?" you stammered shyly, your tone hushed.

The man chuckled, "Of course you can," leaning in to crash his lips on yours. You tasted yourself in his mouth, smelled yourself soaked into his beard. The kiss was soft but prolonged as if he was getting ready to say bye once again.

The two of you stood there in silence for a moment. You completely forgot where you were and that you had a shift to start, but you didn't mind forgetting if it involved staying with John like this the rest of the day. Except John had to snap you out of your fantasy when he whispered to you that he had to go. You nodded your head, the most you could fathom to respond with lately.

The man gave you another chaste kiss on your lips, then a peck on your nose, and a last one on your forehead before he announced his departure and went on his way out the door.

You stood there recalling what just happened, burying your beet-red face into your hands as you squealed. The absence of your panties became evident all of a sudden as well and it only increased your ever-growing embarrassment. You decided no one was going to die over the shop being closed for the day as you gathered your things and dashed out the door, locking up before leaving, of course. No way you'd work comando with just a skirt, you thought, and no way you'd work after all that just happened in the very business you ran.

On your way back to your apartment you smiled to yourself, biting your lip as you thought about John. You thought about how no man in your life had ever done something like that, much less made you feel that good.

John was bringing out a side of you that you didn't know existed.

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siblingskissing · 6 months ago

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Ronance headcanons?

Ronance Headcanons

I have had the BIGGEST brain rot about these two, you guys don't even know, so please excuse my rambling session in this post. As always- feel free to share your headcanons, opinions, thoughts ideas, just be kind <3

-Robin is the biggest simp to ever exist. Nancy mentions liking a color? Guess who's suddenly adding it all over their wardrobe! A favourite food? She's already learned how to cook it. Allergic to something? Robin will destroy it with her bare hands and make it go extinct to protect her girl.

-Likewise, Nancy would and will kill for Robin (come on Robin tell her to kill for you she wants to)

-Their favourite dates include them sitting in one of their rooms, a movie or music playing as they discuss conspiracy theories or whatever story Nancy is working on

"There's been a ton of missing items from farms in the areas. Animals, tools, bales of hay-"

"could it be aliens?"

"Alie- Robin it's not aliens!"

"What? Interdimensional monsters are real but aliens aren't?"

-Many people assume Nancy would get annoyed by Robins carefree joke centered attitude but actually she calms down whenever Robin tries making jokes.

-She doesn't like when people don't take things seriously, but she knows Robin is taking it serious, but using humour to make sure they don't spiral with the problem

-their relationship definitely started off rocky but with some time, understanding and surprisingly really deep conversations they learn to appreciate the little things about one another.

-Robin loves Nancy's drive and her leadership skills. She makes sure that everyone takes her seriously and if the kids complain about Nancy being a hard ass she brings them back to listen.

"Nancy's not our boss!"

"No, but she's the one keeping you dipshits safe- she knows what she's doing so listen up and quit complaining"

-They kids listen to Robin more and so when she follows Nancy with no complaints, the kids unconsciously follow suit.

-When Nancy gets stressed/aggravated Robin will be there to lend her a shoulder. They're very much leader/Right Hand man coded to me.

-Nancy doesn't know much about queer culture so when she does eventually come out Robin is happy to talk to her about it and share what she knows.

"So we use Blue violets because Sappho used to describe women wearing garlands of them,"

"Sappho?"

"... Do you have a spar 3 hours so I can explain Sappho and Greek poetry to you?"

-They take all kinds of cute little Polaroids that they keep at Robins place

(examples of said Polaroids)

-Robins family is more supportive so often Nancy goes over there to spend the night

-when college comes up in discussions Robin mentions that she enjoyed investigating with Nancy, the research was fun when they didn't have death looming over them.

"Yeah, learning Russian to break the code was awesome- the torture kind of ruined it though-"

"The WHAT?"

-Nancy asks Robin 1000X if Robin is sure she wants to go to the same college/same field and Robin promises her that she isn't only going because of her.

"I'd follow you anywhere, but this is also for me- if I have to do one more customer service job I might kill someone."

-They love movie nights, curled up under a blanket watching whatever film they can find. Robin always finds the oddest ones and sometimes some really deep indie films. Nancy also enjoys the foreign films she can find and let's her choose.

-on nights Nancy chooses- she likes care free fun films. Nothing too heavy because she likes the simplicity

-Theyre a gross matching couple- but in a new fun way.

-Mat hing colors in their respective styles, using each other's clothes and making it go with their personal choices, matching patterns/designs.

-They also shared shoes sometimes

-On the 90s Nancy gets a more "Rachel from friends" style like this

-Robin eats it up like no one is watching and often has to hold back from just kissing her 24/7

(also I badly wanna do a look book of the characters so Please someone ask for that because I love fashion)

I definitely probably have more but here you are!!

#proship #antis dni #proship community #proship please interact #stranger things #ronance #ronance headcanons #robin buckley #nancy wheeler

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mia-martian · 29 days ago

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I wanna bring to the Death Note and Lawlight community a take that I have and rarely ever hear about.

A lot of people seem to look at or even just remember L as an unfeeling apathetic weirdo- and this is coming from people who haven't seen the anime in years or just see a couple scenes of him. And that's a fair enough assessment to make- dude is detached in his own way.

But it's really ironic when he's put next to Light Yagami, a character who I believe literally doesn't know how to love.

Not in the aro/ace way- dude doesn't even know how to love anyone platonically. He doesn't love his family, he doesn't love his friends or his romantic partners, he doesn't love anyone. If he shows any small signs of it, I am not inclined to believe it.

When his father died and he cried, it looked like the most half-assed performance to me. As if he used it to framework and test how he would act for L's death. (Edit: Apparently Soichiro's death was after L's i think? I remembered that incorrectly. But at the same time, I think he copy-pasted his fake reaction to L's death and reused it for his dad. Point is, I don't believe he even grieves sincerely.)

And I don't think the Death Note itself exclusively did this to him. Sure, it influenced him a LOT. When you find yourself in a place of power, your brain chemistry LITERALLY changes. Of course the ability to kill with almost no consequence would influence him.

But even in the Yostuba amnesia arc, even when he's doe-eyed and defending the innocent and fighting with L about the people who died for the Kira case, I am not convinced that it's the truth. I am not convinced that he isn't just saying what he was taught to say and believe by his father. I am not convinced he fully believes his own words, even subconsciously. At least in the context of the anime and manga, he is the most insincere character I have ever seen. It's nothing but bullshit coming out of his mouth.

I'd argue the Death Note only gave him a feeling of authority that caused the mask to slip off. I'd argue that he was always this lost and was just waiting for an excuse to cut to the chase on 'justice'. To build his guillotine and finally start collecting the heads he wants to put on his mantle. He is the unfeeling, apathetic and cold freak that I've seen people assume L is. All the Death Note did was foster it.

Because while L tries to be a character for the necessary evil and gray area (i.e. Lind L. Tailor), Light is just evil. He is blindly writing names and filling pages the moment he realizes that the notebook works. He is placing a bomb in his house without thinking of the risks he'd place on his kid sister or his well-meaning parents. He is manipulating women and using them like tools. I simply cannot imagine a reality in canon where Light Yagami can love.

And obviously my point isn't to say "Lawlight wouldn't work in canon !! You can't ship them !!" The canon of a story isn't some kind of divine set of rules, literally have all the fun you want. Canon isn't real. This story isn't real. Literally make it all up and turn Light Yagami into a pining, simping mess. If anything, that's justice.

But it's interesting to think about. I used to ship Lawlight so intensely. But then years later, when I rewatched the anime, my feelings changed drastically.

Now I can't fucking stand Light Yagami, and I wish the same fate he places on all his victims. As ironic as that is.

If he was a real human being, and I had the notebook in my hands, his name would be one of the first that I would write. Call that a sign of my bias.

Now I can't imagine a single scenario where Light loves L.

I mean, I think L definitely would have feelings for Light. L has shown that he has the capability to care, despite how the writers tact on things like in the How to Read manga where his line about Light being his first ever friend could've been a 'coldly thought-out strategy.' (Eye roll)

Even in the scenario that L doesn't truly consider Light a friend, he shows that he cares for people even a little bit. When a member of the task force decides to quit and leave, L says he appreciates him and makes sure he and his family are well paid and protected. When he witnesses a member die, he's shaking in fear. He is capable of being vulnerable and caring for others. He just doesn't do it often. It's half a choice to protect himself, and half his unmasked autism. (And bro IS autistic i don't gotta defend that point)

L is capable of loving Light if L allowed himself to. If that "you're my first friend" line is sincere, he's opened his heart up to a monster. And the unfortunate thing is that there is no possible way Light is reciprocating. Light is the unfeeling, lying monster, uncapable of even concieving what love feels like. Light doesn't care for other people. His motives might be driven by a sense of justice, but that is just the flavor. That's just the color that his true intentions are thinly painted over. The true intention of power. The only thing that brings him joy is the authority he believes he has over humanity.

#kill light yagami idk #death note ramble #death note #lawlight #l lawliet #light yagami #also want to emphasize that all the death note characters are morally gray and that is the point #i love L and he's my absolute favorite i'd defend him to the death- but he's not a perfect person either

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save-the-villainous-cat · 10 months ago

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Hi!

I was wondering if you could write more stories of the war captive prince. (Maybe the captive one gets hurt while saving the prince from death?)

By the way, I really love your writing.

Hope you have a nice day! (*ˊᵕˋ*)ﾉ

So this doesn't really fit into the narrative but if I had to, I'd place it between part 1 and 2.

pt. 1, pt. 2, pt. 3, pt.4

Being a prisoner wasn’t as bad as he had feared.

He had a room to himself. It wasn’t much but it wasn’t a cell where he would rot within days. Soldiers guarded his door outside day and night and maids seemed to be making his bed when he was working in the castle. Whatever the protagonist had expected, it wasn’t this, it wasn’t an almost decent life.

But then again, he supposed the prince wanted to keep an eye on him. After all, everyone was watching him. All the time.

Most of the time, he worked in the castle amongst the other servants and it was easy to forget that those people weren’t his acquaintances. The protagonist knew these people weren’t responsible for his pain and suffering but still, every time he talked to one of them or shared his food, deep down his heart broke a little.

He felt as if he was betraying his friend by showing others kindness.

One day, when the prince had felt particularly merciful (or cruel), he had brought him down to the dungeons. And there he had seen them. His friend, frail and hopeless. He didn’t know if they had even recognised him. They hadn’t talked, had barely looked at him.

Since then, he had tried to sneak away and get back down there again, but it was to no avail. Whenever he was sure he had distracted the guards, one of them showed up in front of him and barked at him to get back to work.

With that memory burnt into his brain, the protagonist avoided the prince at all cost. Because he was sure he would find a way to strangle him to death the next time they’d meet.

So, when he’d been instructed to go to the prince’s chambers today, he was full of energy. His heart was beating in his throat. Rage blinded him and he feared he would make a drastic decision he could regret later.

However, as soon as he set a foot into the prince’s room, he could tell something was off.

“You actually came, I’m impressed.” The prince sat on his bed, holding his stomach. At first, the protagonist didn’t want to understand. He saw the prince in a weak state and wondered how long it would take him to end this.

In his lifetime, the protagonist had killed a lot of people. Undoubtedly, there was dark and thick blood on his hands.

Maybe he would finally add the prince’s too.

“You’re bleeding,” the protagonist realised. His eyes dropped to the wound the prince tried to hide and the strange amount of linen drenched in blood.

His muscles tensed.

The protagonist wondered what it would feel like to push his fingers into his wound and curl them. What sounds the prince would make if the protagonist found something in this luxurious room to press deeper into the cut. What he would look like if the protagonist strangled him and watched him bleed out.

The protagonist got overwhelmed with ideas, with rage and with determination. He wondered when he had gotten this violent, but maybe war had changed him.

Or he had always been this way.

“Yes. That’s why I asked for you.” His breathing was quick and he hunched, holding his stomach as the blood dropped down his fingers. “You have military experience, don’t you? That includes sanitary practice.”

“You’re delusional if you think I might help you.”

“I’ve heard that in your country you’re sewing wounds. It’s probably my last hope. My medics are panicking,” he said. His voice was raspy and the protagonist was sure he felt lightheaded. Losing a lot of blood was dangerous, even the prince should’ve been aware of that.

“Again, why would I help you?” he asked.

The prince made a noise between a groan and a sigh, mixed with pain and annoyance.

“Your friend, obviously. You can see them again tomorrow if you save me. If you don’t, they’ll be killed.” The protagonist cocked his head but what he was seeing seemed to be real. Tears were streaming down the prince’s face. Not a lot and barely noticeable but they sparkled in the dim light.

This was an easy choice, then.

“Good. Lay down.” The protagonist approached him quickly and pushed his enemy into the bed.

The prince’s face twisted and he looked as grey as ash. Even if the protagonist had to save him, that didn’t mean he couldn’t cause as much pain as he wanted.

“Put more pressure on the wound,” he said. He observed what the prince was doing, then shook his head. “No, like this.”

He pushed the clean linen the medics had given to the prince deep into the wound. They turned red immediately and the prince gasped.

“Oh gods-” He held onto the protagonist’s wrist, grabbed him harsh enough to leave bruises. He arched his back and whimpered like a dog and the protagonist stared at him, stared at the person who could be so cruel being exposed to cruelty.

Quickly, the protagonist realised, that they’d been this close in the throne room last. It was an eerie feeling.

But the pain the prince endured wasn’t satisfactory to the protagonist. He got distracted, looked a little too long at the tear stains.

“Needles? Threads?” The prince pointed at the drawer next to the bed and the protagonist found what he was searching for soon enough.

“What happened?” he asked as he took the bowl filled with water from the drawer. He put the thread through the needle’s head and drenched the needle in water.

“Assassination attempt,” the prince groaned. “I fought back but…clearly didn’t make a big difference.”

Quickly, the protagonist took the needle out of the water again.

“Shouldn’t the whole castle panic, then?”

“I managed to avoid that. Only a few people know that I’m injured,” he said. The protagonist looked at the wound. The bleeding wasn’t as serious anymore, so he pulled the linen out of the wound, much to the prince’s dismay.

His fingertips brushed against the protagonist’s.

“I’ve never killed anyone before,” the prince admitted. “Not with my own hands.”

“It’s much harder than it looks,” the protagonist said and the prince nodded. Before the prince answered, the protagonist pushed the needle through his skin.

The prince’s hand found his wrist again and he squeezed as the protagonist continued carefully.

Although the protagonist could sew, he was rather clumsy when it came to his own fingers. Every now and then, he stabbed into his fingertips until his own blood dropped onto the prince’s stomach, red and red mixing together.

“There was so much blood,” the prince said. The protagonist could feel his eyes on him. “I didn’t even notice I was wounded.”

The protagonist pulled a little too harsh on the thread and the prince flinched.

“Apologies,” he mumbled and for whatever reason, his hand landed on the prince’s forearm, trying to calm him. “I’m almost done.”

Again, the prince nodded and let him continue his work. When he was done, he looked at the result and found himself quite satisfied with it.

Maybe the protagonist was a fool for helping him. Maybe it was his own nature. Maybe war hadn’t hardened him, maybe it had exhausted him, had made him soft.

“Rest for the next few days. You also need a lot of food and water.” He stood up and turned around before he could put more thoughts into the situation, however, the prince grabbed his forearm before he could go.

“No word of this to anyone, please,” he said but the protagonist didn’t answer. What kind of power did he have here anyway? Trying to convince the people to overthrow their own prince? A revolution? Who would even listen to him? “…and thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” the protagonist said and he meant every word of it.

#damn a lot of people have been asking me #just a lil hurt for the protag #writing snippet #kingdoms and royalty #prince x prince #princexprince #mlm #m/m #request #an answer for an ask #whump #I guess?

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adaptacy · 1 year ago

Note

You mind writing a little Johnny Slaughter thing where the reader is southern, too? Not from Texas, but maybe from a whole nother state like Louisiana or Mississippi. Like, *really* southern- thick drawl, sassy attitude n everything. If it's not too much to ask, could the reader first start out as a victim? But the thing is, they're not really one to mess with. They're witty, quick, and honestly a bit of an asshole. They're worried about themselves- going as far as to sacrifice the other survivors to ensure their own survival. Maybe even off one themselves, quickly realizing that they like killing just as much as the rest of the family. Love ur work! (Also, have you heard about the new Nancy leaks? I'm so excited to see her, you have no idea.)

OMG OFC WAIT THIS IS GONNA BE SO FUN!!

i love requests ongogngrij

also YES!! I love her so much!! i saw someone (i think it was creepling's post) about what Nancy would think about johnny getting a soft spot for someone and oh god the brain juice started flowing with that. i think her and johnny will def be my mains bcs ive been dying for another female family member that isnt sissy (no hate to sissy, but i tried her and she just wasnt as fun as johnny)

anyways anyways anyways, here you go! this is gonna be fluff, but if you want an nsfw part lmk and i can make that work ;) <333 hope you enjoy!!

this is gonna be kinda cheesy and cute aside from the death (whoops) but if i do an nsfw it'll be more serious. i just thought this would be a good opportunity to write a jaw-dropped johnny who's like "oh shit i think im in love"

"The hell you wantin' now?!" You snarled, cracking your neck as you squared off with a man nearly twice your size. He was used to this kind of fighting back, but there was something about your volume, your genuine anger that was new to him. It was intriguing. He almost wanted to study your brain before he ate it.

"All that, and you still got caught, sweetpea. Ain't that quite the case of karma?" Johnny chuckled, casually spinning his blade in his hand. Beneath his feet was a brunette boy, far too bloodied to be anywhere near alive. You didn't know him, didn't care about him, and you were far more concerned with your own well-being than the safety of some stranger.

"Don't tell me yer gettin' cocky now, pretty boy?" You laughed. You'd wrestled unruly gators twice his size, you could manage this egotistical megalomaniac. Hell, you didn't win a championship in bull-riding for sweet talking it.

"Ain't you a little too pretty to be talkin' so much?" Johnny pouted, sulking closer with his head tilted.

"Ain't you a little too muscular to be flirtin' with yer food?" You rolled your eyes, gripping the kitchen knife tighter in your hand. He'd been so preoccupied with the random teenagers to keep an eye on you, exactly as you'd planned. While they were playing duck duck goose in the rickety basement, you'd been granted easy access to the family house. And with it, the kitchen. And with that, the knives.

Your knife was much larger than his, and it made up for the size difference between your bodies. You knew for a fact he was underestimating you, most people did. They thought you were all bark and no bite, but your bark was only really half your bite.

"I've made pie with apples mer fearsome than you," you teased. The man furrowed his eyebrows, seeming a little stung by your remark.

"The hell you from, anyways?" He shook his head, still not letting his guard down, but he seemed to be a little less on the offense.

"Louisiana, born 'n raised. Ain't you able to tell? Or you too dumb for that?"

"Drop the damn knife," Johnny demanded, and you couldn't help but laugh. Literally laugh. Not just giggle, not just chuckle, not just scoff- full-on laugh at his attempt.

"Or what? You gon' stab me with that there lil butterfly blade?" You mused, waving a hand in the air. "I'd like to see you try," you added, your tone a little lower.

Johnny opened his mouth to reply, but there was a voice from behind him, instead. "You-- You killed them! You killed all of them!" A female yelled, sounding hurt and angry. Both of you paused your bickering to turn towards an angry girl, a small pointy bone in her hand. "You killed my sister!"

Johnny scoffed, looking the girl up and down. You eased up as well, watching the interaction. "Ain't you see we was talkin'? Could'a waited your darn turn, missy," you grumbled, finding the interruption rather rude. The girl turned to you, her eyes wide.

"You-- You're that bitch at the bar! You gave my friend a concussion!" She accused, and you scoffed.

"Now, I would neva-- Oh, oh, she's yer friend? Well ain't that right rich! Small world, ain't it?" You laughed, reminiscing on the bar fight you'd gotten into after some city boy claimed he could take more rye whiskey than you. You were practically raised- hell, made out of whiskey. You had to show him up, obviously. It wasn't your fault his little girlfriend couldn't handle him losing.

It seemed as if the girl couldn't choose between who to attack, but when she finally did make up her mind, you found yourself in the hot seat. You assumed it was because she was more confident taking down you than she was taking down the man, but it was merely another case of underestimation. She swung the bone shiv towards you, and although Johnny stepped forward to do something, you had it handled.

You were the last woman who needed a man to rescue her. 'Specially against a pipsqueak like this chick was. As she rushed forward, you drove the kitchen knife directly into the girls gut. You weren't sure what possessed her to make such a foolish move as to charge at a woman with a knife, but it made for an easy means of defense. The brunette gurgled as blood splattered onto your mouth, hitting your cheek as she fell over your arm, eventually collapsing.

You twisted the knife out of the girls gut, reaching up and wiping the blood off of your cheek-- or, trying to, anyways, but you only really managed to smear it on your face. You scoffed in irritation, wiping the blood off on your shirt, and doing the same with the knife. After all, you didn't want to risk damaging the blade from the blood. It seemed like a good quality vegetable slicer.

With a simple clearing of your throat, you shook the girl off of your leg, looking back at your opponent. He was frozen in place, his eyebrows furrowed and his face contorted in a mix of confusion and disgust. "Now, where was we at? Them city girls just ain't got no manners. Momma neva raised 'em right," you complained, giving the kitchen knife a once-over before looking back at Johnny.

He blinked, remaining silent.

"You still home, or you gone out to get groceries?" You frowned, confused as to why he wasn't responding. You snapped your fingers and swung your weight onto one leg, placing your free hand on your hip. "Mister muscles? You missin' yer brain?"

"Who are you?"

You chuckled, shaking your head. "I was merely defendin' myself. Ain't nuthin' special 'bout it. Now, where's we at? You still wanna go, pretty boy?"

Johnny licked his lips, pulling his head back. He tucked his knife into his pocket, and a small smile spread over his face. "You wanna go out sometime?"

"Kidnappin' and threatenin' a woman ain't no way to get 'em in yer bed," you scolded, tilting your head. "I know yer mama's taught you better'n that. Ain't she?"

"You like rye whiskey?"

You smirked. "That's more like it. Count me in."

#johnny slaughter #johnny tcm #johnny slaughter fluff #johnny slaughter x reader #johnny slaughter headcanons #tcm #tcm game #johnny slaughter x southern reader #reader is a girlboss #reader dont need no man #shes still gon get one tho #thank you anon #this was so fun to write #adapting to johnny slaughter

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cloudy-em · 1 year ago

Text

Prom: Spencer Reid x BAU!Reader

summary: after working on a case involving high school students, BAU!reader casually mentions on the jet back to Quantico that they never went to prom. Spencer plans a surprise for when they return home. Can be platonic or romantic!!

-cloudy

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The team clambered onto the jet, glad to be returning home after a long case. This particular case involved a jealous prom queen who had decided to poison her competitors. Emily was the first to comment.

"I don't know about you guys, but I didn't have the high school experience of the prom court killing off their competition. Is that a regular occurrence?"

The jet collectively let out a lighthearted puff of air.

"No," Morgan responded, "but jealousy is a serious motivator."

"I never went to prom," I blurted out absentmindedly. Cue the shocked faces.

"Really?" JJ asked, clearly surprised. "Prom is one of the defining moments of high school. Dressing up, going with friends and a date, maybe having a shot at being on the prom court...it's fun! Did you really not go?"

"Nope," I replied, popping the 'p'. "I've heard nice stories from others, but I think I'm glad I didn't go. All of my friends had dates; I didn't. I didn't want to seventh wheel." I shrugged. Sure, I was a little bit left out at the time and maybe I had a bit of FOMO from not going, even all these years later, but I stand by my decision not to go to my senior prom.

Everyone nodded, seemingly satisfied with my reasoning. What I didn't know at the time was that the wheels started turning in a certain genius' brain...

A week later, I was at my desk at the BAU. Turning back and forth in my swivel chair, coffee mug in my right hand and a report in my left, I heard an awkward cough behind me. I spun around to see my dear friend, Spencer Reid, standing behind me. Even after all this time, he still hated interrupting me while I was focused.

"You know, you're one of the only people I know who continues to drink coffee after 1pm," he smiled, letting out a small chuckle.

"It keeps me going," I smiled back before posing a question. "What's up, Reid?"

Suddenly, he seemed a little nervous, but I wrote it off as him being himself. It's a little endearing. "I need help reorganizing my library at my apartment. Would you mind helping me with it? I've leant you books before, and you're the only one I really trust to handle my books with the gentleness they deserve," his words spilled out at 40 miles per hour as he rubbed the back of his neck.

"Sure!" I replied happily. I loved Spencer's extensive book collection; the faux-leatherbound books in various languages lined across the walls.

Spencer's apartment was cozy. I loved the times I'd been invited over to eat cheap takeout and watch original Star Trek reruns or sit in the armchairs and read Wuthering Heights in the sunlight that came streaming in from the windows.

We agreed that I would come over to his apartment on Saturday evening to help him with his organizing endeavors.

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On Saturday at 7:47pm, I pulled my car into an empty spot at Spencer's apartment complex. Locking the door, I began walking towards Spencer's building. When I arrived, I knocked on the door, excited to see my dear friend.

When he opened the door, he stood before me in his mismatched socks, jeans, one of his patterned shirts and ties, and a cardigan. It made me smile; most people thought Spencer's fashion was odd and outdated, but I thought it suited him. He smiled at me before handing me a small bouquet of daisies.

"What's this?" I asked, accepting his gift. I was throughly confused, but smiling nonetheless.

Spencer shifted his weight back and forth on his feet.

"Well, um, you mentioned that you'd never experienced prom. I know it's nothing like real prom, but I wanted to give you the experience. Maybe you'll like it more than what you would've had then," he said, almost shyly.

I hesitated. His actions were incredibly kind. I smiled at him, taking his hand with my free one.

"Of course."

He led me into his apartment, which was dimly lit with soft music playing. I felt the butterflies fluttering around in my stomach and chest.

"May I have this dance?" he asks me softly. I can only nod in response.

"Sparks" by Coldplay plays quietly as he brings his arm up, our fingers still intertwined. He brings his other hand to my waist as my other arm goes around his shoulders and my head falls gently to his chest. I feel a soft on the top of my head before his cheek rests in the same spot.

Dancing with Doctor Spencer Reid in his library was not something I would have on my bingo card, but it was a memory I'd hold dear forever.

#criminal minds #behavioral analysis unit #aaron hotchner #ssa hotchner #derek morgan #penelope garcia #emily prentiss #jennifer jareau #spencer x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x reader #gn!reader #dancing #spencer reid fluff

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gojoswhitebabydolllashes · 4 months ago

Text

The decline and fall of two wolverines

Logan howlett x reader

DEADPOOL AND WOLVERINE SPOILERS!!!

Warnings: idk yet. The brain emoji represents when a flashback is starting.

🧠

I tried to murder Jean Grey.

I say tried because nothing can happen in the mansion without Xavier poking around in your brain.

'Are you sure that's what you want to do?'

'You know you can't turn back after this'

'Your better than this, you know that'

His voice echoed painfully through my head. I held my dagger tightly as tears streamed from my eyes.

'Come to me, child'

The pain grew deeper. Invading each cavity of my skull and destroying my senses completely. It was unbearable, and I thought I might explode within seconds if I didn't get out of here soon.

'STOP. FOR GODSAKE STOP IT!'

And this is when I learnt that I could talk back.

-----

The mission to destroy Cassandra Nova was not going to be easy. Despite Wade's excitement to, and i quote verbatim 'absolutely shred some fucking skulls' it turns out I would end up siding with Logan, who also felt strongly that this was a horrible idea.

"You are going to get killed." I put my head in my hands.

"It's worth it, we'd rather die doing this than die here like cowards" Elektra scoffed.

I glared at her and stood up. The floorboards beneath me creaked eerily as I strode toward elektra with a slit eyes.

''Are you calling me a coward?"

I watched the woman gulp. "No, I called him a coward. He's the one forcing you to stay here," she pointed at Logan, who furrowed his brows and expelled his long silver claws from both hands.

A coward?

A fucking coward?

I held up my hand, and within an instant, it began to transform into a long knife. From my wrist to the top of my head was a silver blade.

I wish I could say I had a cool name for it. But I don't. I'm just a human katana.

"I'm sure your a great person, but unless you want to start drinking through a fucking straw I suggest you apologize"

The room was silent. I felt as if i had ruined their moment, but I didn't care.

"Sorry, you're not a coward." she rolled her eyes and walked off.

I retracted my hand blade, but Logan still held his own out, the shining metal claws protruding ominously as he stood in the light of the window.

I turned around and looked at everyone.

"Motherfucker that was scary as shit. I almost cut off my own dick to stop you doing it with that fucking thing"

Even Wade's joke couldn't stop my anger. I wasn't going with them. They were all going to die anyways. I'd rather hear of it than be there to watch it.

🧠

I'm not sure that there's anyone left on earth who understands what loss means.

Yes, it's death. Yes, it's watching life drain from a person. But it can be the loss of your life together too and the loss of their love and their voice, how their breathing sounds and how they laugh.

Hell what the fuck do I know. After all what have I truly lost?

God fucking damn it.

The years at the TVA were not as smooth going as I had initially hoped. Each day was something new, another disaster. I had even written a list of the reoccurring people, the ones that we could basically never get rid of.

Monday: always scarlet witch. Always so tattered and torn, shivering with heartbreak and anger of grief.

Tuesday: Loki's. Loki's of every kind. Ragnarok Loki's, TVA Loki's, jotun Loki's even.

Wednesday: Perhaps the most shattering of all, we would get iron man variants quite often. Sometimes, a zombie sometimes just before the blip. Most times, it was before he built the iron Man suit at all.

Thursdays: Captain America. Now, these were tough ones. Their were a fucking lot of these. Zombie ones, soldier ones, ones still frozen somehow. Pre serum ones. Ones where he works for HYDRA. Those are the scariest ones, the red skull Steve Rogers is not for the faint hearted.

Fridays: Fridays were... well Friday.

I sat outside the hut as the others geared up for their mission. Logan had come with me, but he didn't say much. My Logan talked way too much, so it was awkward hearing him be so silent.

"Your not going?" I spoke.

"Nah. I don't have the fucking patience for it"

A small moment of silence ensued before Logan spoke again.

"That hand thing you can do," he started. "Is it all over you?"

I scratched my neck and yawned. "To be honest, I've never thought of it"

I looked at my legs and stretched them out. "If I could have knife legs it would sure make walking interesting" I laughed

Logan beside me chuckled. God, he even laughs like him.

"I thought I was the only one who had this kind of power," he said as he brought out one of his claws.

"I thought I used to be as well. Your claws are made of adamantium aren't they? Well your entire skeleton is isn't it?"

He replied with a hum. "So what's yours then? Stainless steel?" He joked

I laughed at his words. "No. Actually, it's Vibranium"

"Vibranium, huh? What's that like a vibrating metal?"

It occurred to me then and there that this Logan doesn't know about the multiverse.

"No, it's uh, one of the earths strongest metals. like from wakanda?" I smiled nervously.

Apparently, something in him ticked off as I said that. He grew out the rest of his claws on his hand and pushed me against the tree behind me with one swift move. I was crushed between adamantium spikes and a rough tree.

He scowled at me.

"You will never be my wife." He spat

Venom laced the air around us. Encasing me in a bubble of fear.

"You might look like her and talk like her, hell you even fucking smell like her, that stupid fucking flower scent. Follows you around like a lost puppy"

The hate in his eyes grew each word. "You are not my fucking wife and I don't give a single fuck about what happened in your universe, whether you saved my life or not, I hope in every single one of them, you fucking die"

#logan howlett x reader #logan howlett #wolverine #wolverine x reader #deadpool and wolverine #xmen

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alexandraisyes · 4 months ago

Note

If you could say something to all TSAMS characters, what would you say?

OHOHOHOH

Sun: They could never make me hate you Moon: Go to fucking therapy and stay there Nexus: Let's go take a walk and some deep breaths Monty: Go to fucking therapy and stay there OG Computer: You're an asshole Spaniard: I like you Eclipse (Original): So how did being evil work out for you? Eclipse (Back Up): Man that whole star thing really just didn't go as planned, did it? Eclipse (Copy): Yes yes, you're evil and bad and blah blah blah. Have a cookie and relax my guy. Also, could you fill out this questionnaire? It's for science. Don't worry about the kind of science. Lunar: You're kind of a freak Bloodmoon: You're also kind of a freak but you're dead Bloodmoon (Copy): R.I.P. bozo. L + Ratio Killcode: Yeah, lying to someone that you care about them and you love them, and then disowning them when they're pissed off wasn't a good idea, was it buddy? It's alright, I still like you, but holy fuck dude. What were you thinking? Solar Flare: Your hands look heavy, can I hold them for you? Earth: You need to go sit in the corner and think about why defending Monty's actions is bad for your and everyone else's mental health Ruin: Oh, I have so many questions for you buddy let me tear apart your psyche under a microscope pretty please. The Creator: You know they'll kill you one day, right?

Trashcan Man: You deserved better anyways Gemini: You are really bad about this feelings business Nebula: I don't even know you but slay queen Frank: So what's your opinion on dresses? Puppet: I don't even know where to start, so just keep girlbossing ig. Foxy: I've always liked you Miku: I like you. I shouldn't like you. But I like you. Stitch Wraith: You. Are a fascinating little specimen. Golden Freddy: So. . . the pumpkin. Was it worth it?

Solar (Nice Eclipse): R.I.P. bozo. Hope limbo is fun Helios (Dark Sun): Mind if I steal your pet for a few hours? I'll bring him back, I promise. Nyx (Evil Lunar): A game? I'd love to play a game. Kronos (Lord Eclipse): Would you like a hug? Bro? You're a real fucking mess ain't ya? Styx (Lord Lunar): Does it ever get lonely being just the two of you? Moros (Servant Eclipse): You're a terrible actor

And yeah there are more canon AUs but blegh my brain can only come up with so many things to say to people.

#tsams #the sun and moon show #answered ask #alex answers #thanks for the ask!#mgafs #Montgomery gator and foxy show #monty and foxy show #monty gator and foxy show #laes #lunar and earth show #earth and lunar show #eals

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starkraivennemad · 7 months ago

Text

Rooftop Confessions

TW: Talk of past suicide thoughts.

Greg Lestrade internally sighed as he stepped onto the roof of St. Bart's hospital and saw Sherlock Holmes already there. He just wanted to smoke in peace and not be harangued yet again that he should quit. It was his choice.

Sherlock stood near the ledge looking out at the vista of London. The lightly breezy afternoon was taking delight in playing with the man's curls. The dark hair seemed to move as though under water, the smoke of the cigarette he held in his gloved hand at face level swirled around the sharp cheekbones of handsome man.

Sherlock had a look of concentration. Greg would have thought he was in his Mind Palace again, but that was not quite - right? Greg was trying to decide f he wanted to go a different section of the roof of the roof to smoke or leave altogether…

Then Sherlock gave a different choice.

"Lestrade come over and smoke or go away but for God's sake stop hemming and hawing at the door. Its squeaks are more irritating than Anderson's voice!" the curly haired genius called out.

Greg chuckled to himself as he joined the genius for a smoke. The two stood in companionable silence simply smoking. Sherlock finished his cigarette but remained on the roof. Greg has known Sherlock for several years now. Well as well as anyone can know such a man as a Holmes. He and brother were masters of hiding their feelings from people. Greg considered himself blessed or perhaps cursed in being one of the few people who had the fortitude to stay around long enough to begin to see beneath the surface.

"It's nice up here on clear days like today." Greg broke the silence at last knowing Sherlock was not going to. "I'm glad I chose to stay around and enjoy it." He should have known the ever-observant Sherlock would hear the slight tone in his voice. A dark eyebrow rose curiously. "You, Greg?"

"Yeah me."

"Do spill the tea as I hear is in vogue to say these days."

Greg sighed, knowing Sherlock won't let it go, and buried memories came to the surface. "I was having a shit time in my life. In a six month span me mum had died. My shite car had broken down - again. My wife was all on my arse about my hours and never being there. I had a run of cases that were shite, and my superiors were all over me at work. Then came Markell …" Greg stopped to light another cigarette. He shook one out of the pack and stared at it as he spoke. "Yeah, they tried to tell me there was nothing I could do. The rookie was determined to go it alone and prove himself and he got killed for it. And I know that now, but just then? Danny Markell was the last straw. I figured I'd blow my brains out. I knew where I could do it. I had done a bust there weeks before, knew how to get in the building. Knew I could score what I needed there to fry my brain. What else I had to lose - right? I was pants at home, pants in the job I thought I loved, and pants at life. Who would fucking care if I was gone? I felt so… So worthless!"

Sherlock looked at him intently for a moment, something subtle shifting in those mercurial eyes, but said nothing, so Greg continued.

"I was on the top landing of the stairwell on my way to the roof that night to toss my life away - literally, when I heard a door open some stories below and someone speaking. The voices were kind of warped given the distance and echo, but I distinctly heard him say you have a choice, wallow in your misery and prove the idiots right or rise up above it and prove you have half the brain were blessed with and use them. Use them and show them how wrong they are or let them waste but choose because you can't keep going like this! I don't know who he was or who was being spoken to, but I swear it felt like he was speaking directly to me. There I was a copper in a derelict building known for drug use with enough shit to fry my brain. I knew I was a good cop. I knew I was a good husband. I knew I was a good man, but could all of them be better? Yes. So, I stood, went to the roof and made a choice. I chose to wait a day to see if I would feel better. If I could do better. To BE better."

Greg smiles as different memories, better memories come forth.

"The next day I met Linda Younger. I talked her down from jumping off the ledge of her building. Fifteen minutes after she was safe, I went to the loo and flushed the drugs. Had I made a different choice the night before would Linda Younger be alive now? Whose life will I be saving the next day besides my own because I decided to stay around that one more day?" Greg reached in his pocket and pulled out his keys. He showed Sherlock a sterling silver key fob shaped like a horseshoe. "She gave me this on the first anniversary of that day. Said her luck had changed after we met. Three years later she was married and had named her first son after me. I don't know if someone else would have saved her, I just know because I made the choice to stay one more day, I did. Because I chose to stay, I saved more than one life. Because I stayed, I caught killers before they could kill again. Because I made the choice to stay, I met you. It's what gets me through the shite days of this job - like today. Sorry, I got a little maudlin there. And while I'm sure to catch some shite for your barely legal methods - thanks again for your help, last week, a little girl got to see her mum again because of us. It all balances out." He looked at his watch and winced at the time. "Need to head back to The Yard for my press conference for the suicide murders soon. It's going to be a shit show, I know it."

"It would be less of one if you-" Sherlock tried.

"Zip it you. If something changes, I have the new address, I'll come, alright? It's cold, let's go and I'll treat you to a cuppa first?" Greg gestured towards the door.

"Are you offering me hospital coffee? No, thank you, Graham." Sherlock huffed as he checked his buzzing phone. "Fresh meat? Excellent! You do your press conference; I'll watch. Then I think I will make the choice to run an experiment with a cadaver, Molly Hooper and a riding crop. See how the rest of the day goes…"

"Your choice." Greg laughed. He reached in his pocket and made another choice: he crushed the cigarettes there. He will purchase nicotine patches later and try quitting again.

"Greg…?"

"Yeah, Sherlock?" Greg blinked and looked at the call of his name. It was the second time Greg could recall Sherlock using his correct first name - ever. Oh, Greg knew once they left the roof Sherlock will go back to pretending otherwise, but Greg understood the importance of it being used then and was honored.

Again, something important shifted in Sherlock's eyes. "For the record, I… I for one am glad you made the choice to stay that night."

"Thank you, Sherlock." Greg smiled up at the man as the. "As am I, mate, as am I."

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

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#MayPrompts2024 - Prompt 10: Choice

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#mayprompts2024 #flash fiction friday #252 Spill the tea #bbc sherlock #greg lestrade #sherlock holmes

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