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mrsfrecklesmarauders · 3 months

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"Come on, Padsie..." James stuck his ear to the bathroom door "Talk to me, handsome"

James had a strong knot on his throat each time Sirius got like that. It was usually after his stupid biological family said something to him or did something to him.

James knew Sirius wasn't very chatty about his feelings. They talked only when they were in a good mood and in a joking context. But when there were real conversations, Sirius shut down.

James had been so worried over the summer after he had found Sirius all bruised, shaking from the cold and crying on the street. After that, Sirius never exactly told James what they had done to him. He could only guess.

Now a discussion with the little prick of his brother, made Sirius lock himself in the loo.

"Just leave me alone, James!" Sirius shouted. James could hear soft sobs coming from there as well. That made him feel like his heart was being squeezed hard.

James turned desperately towards his friends. They looked as pale and worried as James felt.

"What did that wanker say to him, Remus?" James asked. Remus had been there to witness their fight. James had only entered the scene to break the two brothers apart.

"I don't know well" Remus said, looking down "They mostly spoke in French"

"Don't be a whine, Padfoot" Peter sighed "We are just trying to help"

"Fuck off!!"

Peter shrugged "I tried"

James sighed, knocking the door again.

"Padsie? Can I come in?"

"Moony" Sirius said with a sniff "Moony can come in"

James knew Remus was special for Sirius. They were close. That gave the Gryffindor some sort of jealousy. Sometimes James feared Remus would replace him as Sirius’s best friend. But he knew that was stupid. They were The Marauders. They were all close. Although, James knew he loved Sirius differently, more intensely.

Remus looked at James with guilt. He knew his friend was probably hiding something from him. Maybe he heard more from the Black Brothers conversation. But if he knew, he didn't say anything.

Remus was silently asking James for permission. But James had no authority. He didn't own Sirius or anything. If he wanted Remus, then he wanted Remus. Maybe Sirius didn't trust him anymore.

James extended his hand, making Remus way to enter. He could do as he pleased anyway.

Remus approached unsure, knocking the door in front of him.

"Padfoot, It's Moony. Come on, let me in"

Sirius opened the door just wide enough to squeeze Remus in. Once the skinny boy was dragged inside, Sirius closed the door right on James's nose. Hearing the lock made him lose hope. There was a time when Sirius used to come into James's bed to tell him stuff. Perhaps that confidence ended between them.

James placed his ear against the door, only catching whispers between his friends. But nothing he could understand. Sirius had done the same back at home. He only confied in Euphemia then. Now it was Remus's turn. Not James's. Not James anymore.

James sighed, trying to hide his jealousy. He wouldn't be a good mate if he acted like a jealous dick. He walked towards Peter, putting an arm around him.

"Don't worry, Wormy" he said "Padfoot will be alright"

"Yeah" Peter answered unsure.

James hid his feelings of jealousy, disappointment and worry from The Marauders. He still didn't know what had happened between Sirius and his brother. Whatvever Remus told him inside the bathroom made Sirius feel better. He pretended that everything was fine or that he didn't care. Although James knew that wasn't the case, Sirius still didn't talk to him.

Lily noticed James was down. She mentioned something in the next prefects meeting after James was too distracted to pay attention to his girlfriend.

"Sorry, darling" James kissed her cheek "I'm a bit distracted"

"What is going on?" Lily asked. James shrugged. "You know you can trust me, James"

James didn't realize he was pouting until Lily touched his chin delicately with a smile.

James took a deep breath "I reckon I am losing my best friend, love. I am losing Sirius"

"What do you mean? You guys are inseparable"

That was what James thought anyway.

"It started this summer more like" James explained "You know how Sirius left his house and now is living with me, right?"

Lily nodded. She was comforting to talk to. She even stroked James's hand, making James feel little sparks now and then. It was beautiful how close they've gotten. Not only boyfriend and girlfriend but confidents.

"Well, I still don't know what happened for him to leave"

"I thought you said it was because his parents are abusive assholes and they hurt him"

"That's what I assume" James sighed "I mean, he was bloody bruised, Lils. It was horrible to see"

"How awful" Lily pouted, her eyes becoming watery. She was a true angel. Even after how bad Sirius treated her, she still cared for him.

"But he didn't tell me, Lils" James bit his lip "I still don't know why his father hit him"

"Maybe those things are delicate to talk about"

"He told Effie. And I think Remus knows more than me" James looked down, putting his glasses up "I am his best friend. But he doesn't trust me anymore. We've been drifting apart lately."

Lily touched his cheek in a comforting way.

"I know I am Head Boy now and I am dating you. But I can still have time for him if he needs me..." he sighed "Lily, I miss him. If I miss him it means we are not as close as we used to be"

"He is going through stuff, James" Lily bit her lip, probably guilty not knowing what else to do to help her boyfriend.

"He seems to be spending lots of time with Remus, though"

Lily twisted her mouth in a smile.

"Are you jealous?"

"What? No!" James exclaimed "Who said anything about jealousy, Lily! I didn't say anything!! Jealous, me? Ha!"

Lily giggled under her breath.

"Don't laugh, traitor!" James pouted as he turned around and laid his head on his girlfriend's lap. She wrapped her arms around his neck and played with his hair gently.

"I am sure what Sirius and Remus have is different, James"

James raised an eyebrow "What do you mean?"

Lily cleared her throat "I mean, people are allowed to have more than one friend"

"Friends? Tons!" James clarified "Best friend? Only one!"

"I have two" Lily shrugged "Mary and Marlene are both my best friends"

James rolled his eyes "It is different, babe. What I feel about Sirius..." he took a minute to think about it "I love him. I would die for him. He is more than a friend, more than a brother. He is very special to me"

"Should I be the one to get jealous here?" Lily teased with an innocent laugh. James smiled and raised his head to give Lily a peek on the lips.

"Oh give me another kiss" he said before kissing his girlfriend again. Once he was pleased, he laid down again.

"I know that what you and Sirius have is special" Lily said, now stroking his hair again "So whatever that is happening between you is going to get fixed. Just give Sirius time, love. Just let him know you are there if he needs you"

James made a pout once more. He knew Lily might be right. But there was also that fear of Sirius simply leaving him. What if James had given him reasons not to trust him? James was a tackless wanker sometimes. He used to joke a lot. He used to tease a lot. He used to be an asshole with others. Maybe Sirius didn't want to be friends with a biggot like James.

"And trust me" Lily added, when she saw James's expression "Remus and Sirius have a different type of relationship"

James raised his torso from Lily's embrace only to face her. He raised an eyebrow. Lily was biting her lip. She was so adorable and beautiful it hurt.

"What do you mean, Evans?" James asked "Do you know something?"

"No! What do you mean?" Lily was also terrible at lying and hiding things. "What I meant is that Remus is a very good listener. Is so good talking to him. Maybe Sirius appreciates that."

James smiled "I know". Remus had been the only one to stand all the pinning James had done over Lily. He was a good friend. James understood why Sirius trusted him. And sometimes he felf guilty for getting jealous of what he had with Sirius.

James touched Lily's cheek delicately.

"Everyone knows Sirius loves you, James. I am sure he is going to open up to you about what is happening in his brain"

James hoped. He wanted for things to go back to what it used to be before. Perhaps they were closer when they were loser kids pranking others. But they were maturing now. Sirius needed to understand that. They still had a lot of adventures and things to live together. If James lost Sirius one day, he was going to die for sure.

"Let's not talk about them, gorgeous" James smirked as he leaned in. "We barely have time alone anymore"

Contrary to what Sirius believed, James didn’t spend most of his time snogging Lily. He wished. Not but really, he had been very invested with the Head Boy job. He actually loved it. He got more involved with the school and other house mates. He loved spending time with younger students. They made him laugh. Plus, he had rugby practice. He was also the Captain of the Gryffindor Team. And he wanted his team to win. Also he had been pendant of Peter and his crush over Mary. And with Remus, making feel welcome because nothing had changed since he came out as gay. But mostly, James had been trying to be pendant on Sirius.

Lots of things to worry about. He appreciated to enjoy some time with his girl.

Lily smiled, her cheeks slightly pink everytime James flirted with her.

"What do you want to do with your time, Mr. Head Boy?" she said as he played with his tie.

"I have a few ideas..."

"Yeah?"

Before Lily could say anything else, James kissed her lips with fierce this time. Lily's soft lips and her strawberry lipstick were delicious to taste. James had imagined so many times what it would be like to kiss Lily. But actually doing it was ten times better. She was always delicate and shy, allowing James to take the lead.

Their snogging was getting intense and better when someone cleared their throat behind James. He waved his hand, dismissing whoever dared to interrupt. When he heard the authoritative voice of his head of house.

"Sorry to interrupt, Mr. Potter. Miss Evans"

James and Lily unglued their faces with embarrassment. Lily was as red as her hair. She gasped.

"Yes, you interrupt" James murmured under his breath. It was comical how it had been always the same. Since James and Lily started dating they couldn't have some time alone. Just a little time. That's what James asked. He wanted to snog his girlfriend. Do other stuff perhaps.

"Excuse me, Mr. Potter?" McGonagall raised an eyebrow.

"I said you don't interrupt!" James exclaimed with a snort "You never interrupt, professor"

"Sorry, professor" Lily got to her feet and adjusted her clothes. Her face red as a tomato "Did you need us?"

"Yes, I would like to discuss some things about the schedule with you" McGonagall said "Why don't we step into my office?"

"Yes" James got up reluctantly.

"Yes, Professor" Lily had more enthusiasm "We're right after you"

McGonagall gave them a firm glance. James answered with an innocent smile. When their professor turned. James sighed and followed with his girlfriend.

#I dream about having what James and Sirius have with someone one day #But we know it's impossible #marauders #maraudersera #muggleau #james potter #lily evans #jily #sirius black #remus lupin #wolfstar #peter pettigrew #platonic besties #james & sirius #platonic prongsfoot

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whinlatter · 2 months

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omg, andromeda and ginny, parvati and harry, peter and lily, petunia and james (humor me)

waaaait i love these!

andromeda and ginny (@saintsenara also asked about andromeda and harry so answering that one here too): poor andromeda. your beloved husband, treasured daughter and the son-in-law you tolerate all die, and then you get (1) seventeen year old trying to do up godparent with his gobby girlfriend in tow. nightmare. in this is what andromeda imagined teddy would be up to each time harry and ginny babysat:

i reckon it takes andromeda a long time to properly warm up to and trust harry and ginny after the war. harry, she understands, has at least some claim to being involved in teddy's life as godfather that she honours even if she doesn't like it: ginny's just an add-on to that. i do tend to like the idea of andromeda as someone who left her family and married for love but who is still marked by her aristocratic origins, who retains a kind of protective conservativism and sense of propriety that makes her a bit sceptical of this guardianship arrangement of 'grandmother plus teenage godson plus his girlfriend apparently'. i think it gets a bit easier with time, though as teddy gets older, i can imagine harry still being quite deferential to andromeda's wishes while ginny's the one to lightly challenge andromeda's authority a bit more and taking a more liberal approach as a guardian to teddy. i can imagine them falling out over ginny buying teddy some booze or to taking him to get a piercing or tattoo or something. (andromeda was born in the mid-fifties, after all). this conflict with ginny reminds andromeda, painfully, of her clashes with dora all those years ago, which just makes it all that bit worse.

parvati and harry: yung parvati definitely fancied harry. and you know what? i maintain that yung harry thought parvati was quite fit too (he's into hair and he stares at hers a bit. i rest my case). i also maintain that the only reason yung harry didn't fancy parvati more is because she giggled too much and he can be such a sourpuss. and as a paid up member of the campaign to let girls giggle (CLGG) i say: justice for patil!

peter and lily: to me, peter was exactly the kind of misogynist dweeb that male friendship groups often pick up early and let slosh around within their ranks for far too long past their expiration date. (you know what i mean! there's so often that one guy! and he sucks! and they're like yeah but he's been here too long there's no getting rid! and then he ignores you when you go with them to the pub! fuck that guy!) i don't think peter and lily were ever close - i'm always struck how in her letter to sirius, lily talks about peter's visit in the context of her trying to have his friends visit to cheer him up, rather than out of her own affection for him ('James is getting a bit frustrated shut up here, he tries not to show it but I can tell — also, Dumbledore’s still got his Invisibility Cloak, so no chance of little excursions. If you could visit, it would cheer him up so much. Wormy was here last weekend, I thought he seemed down, but that was probably the news about the McKinnons...') i tend to subscribe to the view of the marauders that is sirius, peter and, to a lesser but still real extent, remus, all orbiting james, and lily being closest with sirius of those four by virtue of him being james' best mate, but never really being one of the four of them herself, and definitely being least close with peter out of all of them. i don't think lily distrusted peter, but i think the secret-keeper switch shouldn't be taken as sign of great warmth and affection.

petunia and james: james, obviously, thought petunia was a fucking nightmare. petunia, obviously, thought james was a spoiled layabout wastrel of the highest order. she did however get a wee look at lily and james' wedding pictures despite herself and think sirius was really fit. just because she's a dickhead but that doesn't mean she can't have taste!

thanks anon!

#sirius black: so sexy even the bigots are on board #it's canon sorry!#ask game #petunia dursley #andromeda tonks #parvati patil #peter pettigrew

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munacy · 1 year

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Anticipation

@wolfstarmicrofic

A continuation for @stars-a-n-d-scars Part 1 (ignorance) Part 2 (duck)

There is no way this plan can go wrong. It was concocted by the ingenious James F. Potter himself, and James F. Potter does not fail, as a general rule.

"All we have to do, Wormy, is come up with a list of things that gay blokes like, and see if Remus likes those things too!"

Peter's eyes become as round as Galleons. "That's genius, Prongs!"

James is aware.

"Okay, so what goes on the list then?" Peter asks eagerly.

Well, alright, he's not thought that far.

"Hell, I dunno, Peter. How did we know with Sirius?"

"You mean besides the fact that he follows Remus around like a...well, like a puppy dog?"

"No, you're right, Sirius was too easy," James agrees grimly. Then he sighs. "Well, s'not like I'm some authority on queer culture; I've never fancied a bloke before!"

"...Not once?" Peter says slyly.

James tenses.

"...And just what are you implying?"

"That I know that you've given Regulus Black's bare arse a good peek in the lockers--"

"I WAS NOT CHECKING HIM OUT, YOU CRETIN! I WAS TRYING TO SEE IF HE HAS THE SAME BIRTHMARK AS SIRIUS!!--"

"--Okay, not helping your case even a little--"

"--AND I TOLD YOU THAT IN CONFIDENCE, YOU BASTARD!!"

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

The following morning, they decide to wing it. Winging things has worked out well for them in the past, and the timing could not be better, as Madame Pomfrey has decided to keep Sirius in the Hospital Wing until she rules out a few magical maladies (although, not once has she let James skive off after being lovesick over Lily, which is a genuine illness). It's not often that they can get Remus alone without Sirius attached like a limpet.

"Watch this," Peter hisses, holding a peach in one hand and a banana in the other. "Gay blokes love bananas."

"By Merlin, Peter, I'm beginning to suspect there's a genius hidden under all of that blue-eyed naivety."

Peter makes a pleased expression before turning to Remus at the breakfast table. "Oi, Moony, I've grabbed two fruit, one for you, one for me. Which one would you like?"

Remus barely looks up from his book before selecting the banana with a muttered "thanks".

James and Peter share a look of unbridled glee, then turn to stare at Remus as he chomps away at the benign yellow fruit. His amber eyes finally drift up to meet their combined intense gaze, and he swallows, looking uncomfortable.

"Are you two alright?...You're sort of being… really weird, right now."

James breathes out a bit shakily. "You really like bananas, don't you, Moony," he says unblinkingly.

"Erm...No, not really. Actually hate 'em,” Remus scowls, clearly disturbed by their laser-focused attention.

"What!? Why did you pick it over the peach, then, why?!" cries Peter melodramatically and clawing the air with his hands.

"Because!" Remus yells back, brows furrowing with increasing bewilderment, "Pomfrey wants me to try to get more potassium in! Says it might help with the cramps around the full!"

He looks between James' and Peter's inexplicably devastated expressions, and scoffs, picking up his tray and leaving to go sit with Lily Evans and Mary Macdonald.

"Fuck," James moans.

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

"Okay, okay, this is a sure thing," James mutters at rapid-fire. "Gay blokes love ABBA."

"Brilliant," Peter nods, face open and trusting.

"Quick! I hear him coming!"

As Remus enters the dormitory to exchange his Arithmancy book for Ancient Runes, his eardrums are viciously assaulted with the bouncy strains of "Dancing Queen", blasting from their record player with enough magically-enhanced volume to rattle the window pane.

OOH, YOU CAN DANCE!

"WHAT THE FUCK, GUYS!"

YOU CAN JIVE!

"ISN'T IT WONDERFUL!" screams James.

HAVING THE TIME OF YOUR LIFE!

"IT MAKES ME FEEL MY DEEP INSIDE FEELINGS ON THE OUTSIDE!" howls Peter.

OOOH, SEE THAT GIRL--

Remus casts a wordless spell that goes off with a bang, bringing the record player to a tenth of the volume.

"I fucking hate disco," he growls, storming out of the dorm and slamming the door on his way out.

Peter sighs. "Prongs, maybe he just isn't bent? Wouldn't that be such a shame for poor old--"

"PETE! P-Pete, mate, your foot!"

Peter looks down at his traitorous foot, tapping along—completely of its own accord—to ABBA. "Fuck!" he wails. "It's too catchy!"

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

They have one last idea, but neither of them is enthusiastic about it.

"It's got to be you, Prongs," Peter whimpers panickily, "I haven't got the pectorals!"

And Peter, unfortunately, has never been so right.

But what if Remus falls in love with me instead? He's bound to! Doesn't that defeat the entire purpose? Poor Padfoot, he'd be so devastated.

"Don't think about the ramifications just now," Peter interrupts his internal monologue, snapping his fingers in front of his friend's gold-rimmed spectacles. "We've got no choice, Jamie. At this point, it's embarrassing we haven't been able to figure out this very basic thing about our best mate."

James nods reluctantly.

Into the breach.

That late afternoon finds James, alone in the dorm, exiting a gratuitously steamy shower once he hears that snick of the dormitory door shutting, signaling that Remus has returned from Charms Club.

Took the wanker long enough, I'm all pruney now.

"Oh, Reeemuuus!" James calls in a purr, very loosely wrapping a towel around his hips. "Could you come here a second?"

The door opens tentatively.

"Christ, Prongs, it's like a rainforest in here. How long did you shower for?" Remus accuses, his unruly tawny curls already protesting against the humidity. "And why are you showering in the middle of the day?"

James waits until Remus finally makes eye contact with him to take a few slow, deliberate steps closer, looking up at Remus (damn, but the boy just keeps shooting up) from under his dark lashes.

"And...when do you like to take long showers, Remus?" he murmurs.

"Eh? I dunno, sometimes I like to take a hot bath or two after the full." Remus' brows furrow in concern. "You feeling alright, Prongs? Maybe you've got whatever Padfoot has. Where is Padfoot, anyway?"

James steps ever closer. He could touch Remus. He's about to touch Remus. HIs mouth goes oddly dry with anticipation.

"Don't worry about Sirius. Worry about me for a second," he whispers.

Remus' intense golden eyes finally break their gaze as they subtly flick up and down James' body.

"Oh, is that why you called me in here?"

Gotcha, you lovely, queer bastard.

"Why, yes, Remus, I'm dying for you to--"

An exasperated sigh and eyeroll interrupt what would have been a surefire seduction.

"As I've told you nigh on a hundred times, Prongs, wizards don't get skin cancer. That mole on your lower back looks perfectly normal, as I've already said, and I'm not going to look at it again!"

James can only gape at Remus.

He tuts. "I don't have time for this; you're literally fine. I'm going to see if Pads is still in the Hospital Wing."

Remus exits in a whirl, leaving James reeling in the bathroom--wet, humiliated, and, if he's being completely honest with himself, just the tiniest bit aroused.

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

"James! James!" Peter bursts into the dormitory with Sirius in tow, moments after James has gotten clothes back on. "Padfoot's out of the Hospital Wing and I've informed him of our mission!"

"Right, mate," Sirius follows breathlessly. "You lot are trying to figure out if Moony's gay, then?"

James moans and put his head in his hands. He feels this close to unraveling. "We've been trying to figure it out all day!"

"Really?? What have you tried?" prompts Sirius eagerly.

"POTASSIUM!" shouts James incoherently.

"Erm--"

"Disco, too, louder than eruption of Krakatoa," interjects Peter mournfully.

"Great--" James suppresses a sob--"Great, rock hard pectorals. Prize-winning pectorals. Boy's unflappable. I have no idea."

Sirius purses his lips, clearly between seeking clarification on the gibberish they've spouted and slapping them both silly. Fortunately for all involved parties, he does neither.

"Lads. Here's an idea. Why don't we just ask him?"

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

Thanks to those of you that have stuck around! <3

Part 4: Thirst

#wolfstar #prompt: anticipation #MAJOR crackfic energy #like really really #James and Peter scheming #they're trying to help a bro out #but they're so soo stupid oml #cw: benign but untrue gay stereotypes #this is honestly just a 1000+ words of james and peter being complete fucking idiots together #also bipanic james potter

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her-midas-touch · 4 months

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Wolfstar one-shot

(pretty much wolfstar but the other boys are in there too <3) ‘You know, I really don’t think you hate us as much as you act like you do,’ Peter smirked, raising an eyebrow at Remus.

‘I don’t hate you,’ Remus shrugged. ‘It’s just that, well, most other people just usually…suck,’

That made Peter laugh.

‘So eloquent.’

‘Rich coming from you,’ Remus shot him an amused look. ‘Thought we talked about it always being too early for fancy words?’

‘Using my own words against me, I see,’ Peter pouted at him, in mock hurt. ‘James would say I’m being a pretentious twat,’

‘He would,’ Remus agreed. Peter laughed, shaking his head.

‘Well,’ He wiped his hands on his jeans ‘In any case. I’m glad that I don’t suck by Remus Lupin standards,’

‘Oi, Keep it PG down there, Pete,’

‘Oh shut it,’ Peter shouted back, rolling his eyes at Remus. ‘Honestly both of them are such—‘

‘Dickheads? Arseholes? Dimwits? Wankers?’

‘You forgot whores,’

‘That too,’ Remus nodded sagely. He’s walked in on Sirius plenty of times (All just heated make outs—an image Remus could do very well without, thank you very much—save for that one time in a storage closet, of all places to fuck in) and it didn’t surprise anyone who knew him that James Potter had a shamelessly unfiltered, filthy mind.

‘What’s all this talk of whores and sucking?’ James popped his head into their dorm, holding an alarming variety of eyeliners and lipsticks and what looked like blush. At this point Remus isn’t even surprised. He’s seen much worse from the two of them.

‘Looks like I’ve been summoned,’ Sirius announced, waltzing in after him.

Remus snorted at that, which earned him one of those looks from Sirius, all raised eyebrows and annoying smirks, as if to say got you.

It had become sort of like a game now, one played in between witty jokes and sly comments, casual, private little glances that lasted a second, meant for their eyes only. Sirius would see him laughing at something he said and he would catch Remus’s eye with his own, his grey ones flashing with something akin to a fierce, humorous sparkle.

Remus wonders if that’s why he does it himself, sometimes, cracking the occasional smile just to see Sirius’s gaze meet his own, with that look of odd satisfaction, as if Sirius had something to prove.

And Sirius was a force to be reckoned with when he had something to prove. He burned as brightly as the star for which he was named.

‘The fuck are you doing—?’ Peter looked affronted as they neared him. ‘That brush is dangerously close to my face without good reason.’

‘You hear that, Pads?’ James snorted, exchanging a look with Sirius ‘It’s like he hasn’t even met us.’

‘I know,’ Sirius nodded gravely, handing James a brush and what looked like a compact. ‘Since when’ve we ever needed a good reason to do anything?’

‘Oh my god,’ Peter sighed in resignation as James dabbed a puff of pink on to the brush. The plain distress on is face is laughable.

‘Can’t believe I’m letting you anywhere near my pretty face with your questionable makeup skills. Have you ever done anyone else’s before this at all?’

Given the vain diva Sirius can be, Remus doesn’t think Peter should be worried about their inexperience on the make-up front.

And there was no point talking either him or James out of anything once they had already put their minds to it.

James clucked his tongue, pointedly ignoring the complaints as he continued dabbing a thin layer of pink over Peter’s cheeks “Too late,”

“Ugh.“

“Hold still, Wormy, for christ’s sake it’s not that hard.”

"Ow— that was my eye you dickwad.”

“Shut up Pete—

“Oi, Remus get in here you useless bastard.”

“Thanks. I’m good,” Remus chuckled. “Though this isn’t quite what I had in mind when you said you were getting supplies for a mission,”

“Don’t be too amused,” Sirius plucked a brush from a small eyeshadow palette from the pile of clutter, dabbing a bit bright blue eyeshadow on it’s tip and waved it at him menacingly.

‘You’re next,’

“I don’t think you could handle the sight,”

‘Is that so?’

Sirius smirks. He never could refuse a challenge.

‘You underestimate me, love,’

And then Remus’s being pushed up against a wall. Sirius’s face hovers too close, in front of his own, a very smug look on his face.

Instinctively, his hands fly up in front of him, to push the grey-eyed menace away, because he knows what’s good for him, but then Sirius’s hand encircles his wrist and oh.

He’s still staring at Remus with that glimmer of mischief in eyes as he lowers his hand, clasped loosely around Remus’s wrist. And Remus is the taller one so it’s absolutely not fair that he’s feeling so—

And Remus suddenly can’t breathe but he suspects that has nothing to do with the situation at hand and everything to do with Sirius Orion Black and his unfair proximity.

Oh Remus hates him.

Sirius releases his grip, reaching out gently to hold his chin and Remus feels the bristles of the brush graze over his eyelids.

His eyes are closed but he can still see Sirius’s little frown of concentration, his tongue, gently protruded and clasped gently between his teeth.

Sirius leans back after a while, cocking his head to the side to examine his handiwork. His eyes flicker with something, something unfamiliar and then it’s gone. Imperceptible.

There’s something different about the way he’s looking at him now, too openly, too intimate. Too assessing. Sirius’s hand drifts up to his eyelid, gently wiping a little bit of the excess away.

Remus can’t meet his gaze, and then suddenly he can’t look away. And it’s cruel, as if Sirius can sense his thoughts. He doesn’t pull his hand away immediately.

No, instead, his knuckles trail down, aimless, and almost teasing, brushing feather-light against Remus’s cheekbone.

He’s still looking at him. Looking and looking. Remus never thought grey was an intimidating color. Boring, even, actually.

But that was before he met Sirius Black.

There’s a pause in that moment, an uncertainty. The ghost of a what-if that Remus is half-certain they both feel. Sirius’s eyes flick down and Remus does not miss the way he wets his lips slightly, deliberately. He hates it even more, how his eyes follow the motion, breathless and enraptured.

It’s brief. And James is much too busy with a very uncompromising Peter to notice anything. Not that there was much of anything to notice.

Except there is. A flicker of a moment. A question.

Remus can’t stand it. The way Sirius is looking at him, face unreadable, gaze sharp—could melt iron.

‘Wow,’ Remus blinks, hastily looking away, before glancing back up at him, trying for a casual smile. ‘So I look that unflattering, huh?’

Then Sirius is pulling back, but there’s a soft smile on his face. A rare one.

‘No. Not at all. I think you look beautiful,’

#guys my finger slipped #wolfstar oneshot but mostly just pining #has been lying in my notes forever #never meant to see the light of day #but I’m feeling nice and unpredictable today #modern wolfstar au snippet-ish except idk if I’ll ever finish it so 😭#its a bit of a mess but here #oh also remus is slightly in his denial stage 🤷‍♀️#also first snippet of my writing that I’ve posted please be nice <3 #wolfstar #wolfstar fanfic

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spenglercore · 6 months

Text

Sharing a WIP from later in When Protons Collide. No major spoilers, but I'll add a readmore just in case, and there are some notations in brackets. Egon gets tapped to crawl through the HVAC ducts in a commercial building in pursuit of An Entity and things get wildly embarrassing.

Bit of context: Victoria does roller derby almost every weekend, and she also lifts in her spare time to maintain core strength and she is also only 5'4".

"Well…shit. We don't have a ladder do we?" Vic asked as she stared up at the vent grate the ectoplasm was dripping from. "Not unless you have one in your pocket." Ray sighed. For a moment, nobody said a word as they all wracked their brains for a solution.

"I could always give one of you a leg up, no problem." Victoria offered with a shrug. "That would work. Who gets the honor of crawling through commercial ductwork?" Egon asked, half-sarcastic. Usually these sorts of things fell to Peter by default. But this time, as the silence stretched, he caught movement out of the corner of his eye and when he turned to see Ray and Winston looking at him expectantly. "What." "Well, you're the tallest." Peter shrugged. Egon raised an eyebrow. And? Then it hit him. "No." He turned and jabbed a finger at Peter for good measure, but then Ray spoke up. "You're also the lightest of us, if I remember right," He pointed out. "No," Egon repeated as he turned back to Ray. "Oh come on, you're built like a two-by-four! Not like you'd get stuck." Winston said. He'd been called unattractive in far worse ways, but having attention drawn to his body type in front of Victoria made him self conscious and he could feel his face go red as he glared at Winston and opened his mouth to protest again, but he was interrupted by Ray. "Hell, you'd probably have enough room to send a trap back out once you nab the wormy little critter." The more he thought about it, the more he realized he couldn't argue; he was best suited to go after the [need name for lil worm dudes] where it was hiding. Despite Victoria being more than capable of lifting any of them, it would be easier for her to heft the lightest person there, whom she'd also already proven she could pick up without breaking a sweat, and the odds of getting stuck somehow were definitely not in his favor. "And hey," Peter said as he clapped a hand on Egon's shoulder. "I always get tapped for this kind of thing, usually by you wanting me to gather some kind of snot for you to analyze and quite honestly? I'm starting to think you have a fetish." Egon had never wished so badly that he could vaporize the man with his mind. Instead he settled for channeling as much 'fuck you' into one look as he could. "Fine." He acquiesced reluctantly. "Hoo, if looks could kill!" Winston laughed. [add more; after a mildly awkward face to face boost into the vent, Egon catches The Thing and then has to worm his way out backwards and things go sideways]

He felt his left boot connect with Victoria's shoulder, and took a moment to make sure his footing was solid. "You're good!" Came the tinny reply. He braced his arms against the top and bottom surfaces of the duct, then slowly lowered his right foot, and a hand gripped the bottom of his boot around the arch. "Okay I got you, just let yourself down slow!" Easier said than done, there wasn't exactly anything to grab ahold of inside a commercial duct made of smooth sheet metal. Once he started to bend his left knee, he felt his right foot take his weight as it settled into her interlocked hands, which meant he no longer had to support himself entirely by his arms and shoulders wedged into the sides of the duct. As he slowly lowered himself further, he felt Victoria jostle and quickly tried to pull himself back up. "Oh fuckssake get your junk out of my face!!" At first, he thought that one of the items attached to his belt had hit her as he lowered himself out of the HVAC system, but it didn't take him long to realize that positioned as he was would put the jumpsuit's fly at face level. That junk. He was glad that his top half was still obscured inside the duct; he could feel his face burning and he wanted to disappear. But his only choice to resolve the situation was to keep going and get down as quickly as possible. Egon tried to lean back, so as not to violate Vic's personal space more than he already had. This in turn pushed his foot forward, which put him off balance. He tried to compensate by bending his leg, but that just shoved his kneecap into Vic's sternum. And just as he decided to try and straighten his leg again, his hand slipped. And there was nothing to grab to arrest himself. "Shit!" As he tried to reposition his left hand, his right slipped. "Shit, SHIT!" To her credit, he felt Victoria crouch down as he slipped backwards out of the vent in attempt to minimize his fall. But having one foot on her shoulder and the other in her hands caused his weight to further shift away from the wall, and several things happened in quick succession. As he fell down and back, Victoria let go of his right foot, and the lack of support caused his left foot to support more weight, which in turn meant that his mass shifted still further from the wall and out into empty space. Her left hand snapped out, and somehow she managed to grab the front of his jumpsuit in an attempt to stop him from hitting the ground. It didn't work. He already had enough momentum that all Victoria did was get yanked down with him. As he hit the ground, all he could think of was Newton's Principle of Inertia. This was going to hurt.

Hitting the ground flat on his back was bad enough, but hitting the ground and then immediately being hit in the midsection by a couple hundred pounds of his coworker succeeded in completely and utterly knocking the wind out of him. He let out an undignified strangled noise and tried to curl up, but he only succeeded in giving Victoria a very awkward hug as he gasped repeatedly to try and catch his breath. "Egon?! Are you okay?" He felt Victoria sit up on her knees, which now meant his legs were on either side of her torso. He squeezed his eyes shut as he silently cursed his psyche for supplying approximately 17 much more intimate scenarios that involved the sensation of her hips pressed against the inside of his thighs. "Fine," he half-wheezed. He hadn't quite gotten his voice back yet.

Egon gasped again and coughed, then felt Victoria shift against his legs. Assuming she was going to extricate herself from him, he pushed himself into a halfway sitting position braced on one elbow, his other hand pressed to his chest just below his ribs as he took another deep breath. "You sure?" He went to nod 'yes', but his eyes snapped open at the sudden and unexpected feeling of hands on either side of his face, and what breath he'd gotten back seemed to get stuck somewhere in his chest; Victoria's face was less than two inches from his, and suddenly all thoughts seemed to disappear, except for one. Kiss me. Please… He felt his face go hot, and hoped that it would just be taken as a side effect from his recent exertions and not his brain suddenly being fixated on the concept of kissing with a ferocity he was not prepared for. Don't forget to breathe, imbecile! He exhaled a breath he hadn't noticed he was holding, and nodded. Maybe he was just seeing things, or reading too much into Victoria's own physiological response to strenuous physical activity, but she seemed just as pink in the face as he probably was, and she wasn't saying anything, just….looking at him… "Are you guys gonna make out right there on the floor, or can we leave now?" Victoria let go of his face as Egon started and twisted one way, then the other, just in time to see Ray give Peter a pained look. Any and all interest he had in kissing evaporated, and an intense embarrassment took it's place. "Can it, Venkman!" He almost yelled. Egon cringed mentally as soon as he spoke; his response had been far too defensive, especially considering how rarely he rose to his friend's usual provocations. Peter's response was to raise his eyebrows and laugh. "Ooh looks like I hit a nerve." He said in a teasing, sing-song tone before Ray smacked him in the back of the head.

#WPC #ghostbusters fic #WIP #fic snippet #the square pair #egon spengler #ray stantz #peter venkman #winston zeddemore #ghostbusters OC #mutual pining

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soup-of-the-daisies · 8 months

Text

Prongsfoot Week

Day 7: Write/Draw/anything for this ship.

sweeter than candy (on a stick)

Warnings: around 4k words, is NSFW (blowjobs).

Can be read on AO3 here.

James’ lips are stained red, shiny with sugar and spit—and Sirius can’t stop staring.

It’s a wonderfully sunny though bloody cold Sunday afternoon in November and they’re doing homework in the dorms—Peter and Remus have taken to ‘Weekend Walks’ around the lake, which really means that they talk about everything and nothing while Wormy sneakily tries to get Moony to give him homework answers. It’s a solid, well-choreographed dance — Pete’s far too clever to be hard working, and Moony does have a tendency to preach about the topics that will be discussed next week — that, quite honestly, neither Sirius nor James wish to witness. And besides, for them weekends are usually reserved for the planning of assorted mischief and general tomfoolery to be executed on school days.

Usually, yes, because the Defense essay really couldn’t wait today: though Sirius was planning on doing it at breakfast tomorrow, James has taken pity on their ever-nervous Defense professor Michael Burgary and made the decision to make it easier for the bumbling buffoon. It might have something to do with the running bet all the seventh years have going on how long the bloke will last — Sirius has two Galleons on March twentieth, whilst James bet five that Burgary will make it to the end — but, of course, James will never admit that.

“Can’t bear the thought of him having to order us to write a better one, really,” he said earlier today, grave and pitying and therefore successfully convincing Sirius to do what he wants to do, as is usually the case. “Let’s just ensure we get a good grade, and then he won’t have to talk to us as much. Poor bloke’s already so uncomfortable.”

Sirius would probably be a bit jealous of James seemingly having taken a liking to the twat if Burgary didn’t sweat so much, didn’t constantly look five seconds away from bursting into tears, and also wasn’t a practitioner of the lost art of the comb-over. He hopes he won’t have a receding hairline before turning seventy: both his grandfathers still have a full head of hair, even if grandfather Pollux’ locks were thinning the last time Sirius saw him.

Afternoon sunlight filters in through the small windows of their dorm, highlighting the auburn sheen in James’ messy black hair and the warm undertone of his brown skin. He’s sitting oddly, like he usually sits—one leg resting on the floor with the foot under his arse, and the other propped up; his crotch is in full view. The way he’s leaning over his essay is an absolutely outrageous display of subtle flexibility, and his left hand is holding the quill almost clumsily. It’s as if it’s too small for his veiny, quidditch-calloused hands.

He’s also sucking on a lollipop, which makes matters significantly worse.

The pale plastic sticks out of the corner of his mouth and sometimes he just sucksat it, loud and lewd, before using his tongue to shove the damned sweet to the other side of his mouth; the hard candy will click against his teeth, and then James will purse his lips, covered in the sheen of artificially dyed sugar, and suck again. It is obviously the latter that Sirius can’t help but focus on instead of his painfully unfinished Defense essay.

The thing is, Sirius knows what burning feels like. He once fell off father’s old broom when he was ten and landed in the patch of firenettles mother grows for her own version of Pepperup; he once tripped over his own two feet and fell hands first into the crackling hearth. He knows how the heat won’t stop, knows how the blistering feels, knows how the sensitivity will remain for months even after the burn salve and the essence of dittany. Knows the sheer pain of it, that sharp tone of agony that lasts for days if left untreated.

And somehow, for some absolutely ludicrous reason, Sirius is certain that swallowing glowing embers burns less than witnessing James Potter suckle on a fucking sweet.

James drops his quill and fingers the plastic of the lollipop absentmindedly, takes the damned thing out of his mouth with another obscene sucking noise and puckering of his red, wet, shiny lips. Then he licks it, wraps his tongue around it, and slurps it back into his mouth.

Sirius is burning. He’s burning, and his balls aren’t blue but they’re red-fucking-hot, and if he doesn’t tear his gaze away in the next second he’ll go from ‘uncomfortable but manageable’-hard to ‘Morgana’s tits this is painful’-hard. All he can think of is that fucking lollipop as his weeping dick, James’ absurd mouth around it, swollen and soaked with spit and precum, and Sirius—

James, the oblivious prat, taps the lollipop against the very bottom lip Sirius has been wanting to bite for the better part of an hour, like torturing his best mate without knowing it is helping him think. Then he sucks the candy back in his mouth, wetly and terrible and hotter than a Merlin-damned ashwinder.

Sirius whimpers. Out loud. And instantly wants to die.

“Pads?” James asks, and Sirius scrambles to put on an oblivious expression. “You alright?”

“Yeah,” says Sirius, lying through his teeth. James has taken the lollipop out of his mouth, again, and is tapping the bulbous candy against his bottom lip, again. “Just stuck on a sentence, you know…”

“You’re never stuck on sentences,” James points out. He pops the lollipop back in his mouth, pushes his essay aside, and shuffles closer. “Let us see, then.”

Sirius fashions his mouth into a scowl and glances at his parchment. He’s only written half of the duelling method of his choosing, a creative offense strategy, while James is likely already on his conclusion considering how in the zone he was while Sirius stared at him and that fucking sweet. And though it could be a bit embarrassing — Sirius has never liked lagging behind James, always needs to meet him with every step — he’s far more preoccupied with hiding his stiffy than with the abysmal state of his essay.

James sucks absentmindedly on his lollipop as he reads the paragraph Sirius managed to write down. It’s loud, and though it should probably be a little bit gross it’s actually really hot, and Sirius has to squash down the urge to kiss him. Heat is coiling in his lower belly; he adjusts himself discreetly, suppressing the moan that follows the pressure of his hand.

“It’s fine,” James murmurs eventually. The lollipop slips back out and he shoots Sirius a little smile that kicks Sirius’ heart into a riotous pace. “There’s no need to make it perfect right now, anyway. You can always write the final version later.”

James never needs to write drafts, as almost every essay ends up perfect on the first try. Sirius, usually, doesn’t need to write drafts either, but he’s been a bit distracted.

And hot under the collar.

Just a little bit.

“Right,” he manages, “it’ll be fine.”

“It will,” James says brightly. He pats Sirius’ shoulder, then slides his hand to the back of Sirius’ neck and squeezes. “You’re brilliant, ‘Rius. I see many more O’s in your future.”

Sirius makes a disparaging little noise, contemplates whether or not he should ask James to stop holding his neck because the touch is killing him, wishes desperately he were alone so he can wank himself raw to fantasies of getting sucked off by James Potter. His dick throbs.

Sirius utters, a bit strangled: “You’re more brilliant.”

The smile brightens. Sirius feels a sudden, absurd need to lick James’ teeth.

“Funny,” says James, “I always say that about you.”

Sirius smiles back and James does his funny little nose-scrunching thing that he always does when he’s a little bit amused and a little bit happy. Then his hand travels upwards, up the back of Sirius’ head, and his fingers tangle with the hair Sirius has been considering growing out.

“You still look a bit flushed,” James muses. Sirius feels the pull at his roots, knows James is twisting locks around his longer fingers like he is wont to do. It usually reduces Sirius to a puddle; now, he wants James to yank. “You sure everything’s okay? Is something bothering you?”

Yes, Sirius thinks, gaze dropping to James’ shiny red mouth. Something is bothering me. You’re sucking on a lollipop I wish was my prick, and now I’m so horny it’s all I can think about.

“Nah,” says Sirius. “Just, erm—a bit warm. That’s all.”

“You can take off your shirt,” James says. He laps at the lollipop, sucks at its side for a bit. “You wear another underneath anyway. It’s not like you’ll be naked, if that’s your issue.”

“Right,” Sirius says. “Yeah.”

James smiles at him again and puts the lollipop back in his mouth. Then, to Sirius’ grief, he takes his hand out of Sirius’ hair.

Starts to fiddle with the buttons of Sirius’ shirt.

“Erm—”

“You’re hot,” James says, lisping past the lollipop between his teeth and utterly oblivious to the implication behind his own damn words. “But you weren’t about to take off your shirt, so I’m doing it for you.”

Sirius hems, high-pitched and choked. James’ fingers are warm, brushing briefly against the bare skin at the base of Sirius’ throat before travelling down and only touching cotton. The fiddling and gentle touches spark goosebumps and, to Sirius’ complete and utter horror, pebbling nipples and an increase in the throbbing of his dick.

Eventually, James reaches the last of the buttons and Sirius is almost relieved that it’s almost over. But then one of James’ knuckles presses briefly against Sirius’ crotch, and before Sirius can even try to lock his muscles in place, his hips jerk forward. James pauses for less than a second before he releases the final button and, without asking, slides the shirt off Sirius’ shoulders. His palms brush down Sirius’ bare arms and it takes every last inch of willpower for Sirius not to start whining.

“I see the problem,” James murmurs, voice low and smooth like molten chocolate. He’s smiling around the lollipop, closed-mouthed and small, an intrigued tilt to one corner.

“Do you?” Sirius whispers, shaking.

James’ smile widens, and in pops his singular dimple. If Sirius wasn’t so utterly baffled by the lack of shock and disgust coming from James he’d have genuinely entertained the notion of kissing it.

Then a large, veiny hand lands on Sirius’ crotch, fingers slipping under the fly and playing with the pull of the zipper. His entire body tenses, trembles, and his next breath is expelled choppily.

“What are you doing?”

“What do you want me to be doing, Sirius?” James asks, tilting his head in faux-curiosity. He’s stillsmiling, like this isn’t weird, like this doesn’t cross any unspoken boundaries for him. “Is it still too warm?”

Sirius is quite certain he’s gone bright red. He nods, unable to speak.

“Words, Sirius,” James murmurs.

They come out breathy. “Yes, it is.”

James’ eyes darken and the button of Sirius’ trousers pops open. The zipper is slid down, and James pauses, sugar-shiny lips pursed again, rubbing the waistband of Sirius’ trousers between his thumb and pointer finger.

“Take them off,” he says quietly, and Sirius does, scrambling to get the black wool down his arse and off his legs.

He kicks them at the last bit, throws them aside, and turns to stare at James. James, whose gaze has apparently been caught by the erection tenting Sirius’ briefs, pupils dilated and dark eyebrows pulled together. Sirius can’t find the words he probably should say; his mind is far too busy reeling, far too busy thinking of James’ mouth and the sudden turn of events and oh fuck, this is happening—

James looks up, takes the lollipop out of his mouth, and smiles.

“Here,” he says, and he reaches out to push the sweet against Sirius’ lips. “Take it.”

Sirius wraps his mouth around the lollipop, ever-obedient, because there’s truly nothing he wouldn’t do if James asks nicely. It’s cherry, sickly sweet and a bit tart, bit bubblegum-esque, artificial flavouring and colouring. He sucks at it almost desperately.

Then he promptly chokes because James’ hand is on Sirius’ crotch again, pressing down, and—

“Would you like me to suck you off?”

Sirius closes his eyes and wonders what absolutely incredibly good thing he did to deserve something like this—his wildest dreams coming true. Tilts his hips up, so that the pressure increases. Whines.

“Words, Sirius.”

“Yes,” he gasps around the goddamn lollipop, blinking sluggishly and daring to take a glance at James. “Yes, yes, please, I would like that very much, I—”

James deftly shoves the briefs down until they’re caught under Sirius’ balls, tilts his head again, and grips Sirius’ prick tightly. Moves his hand up, then down.

Sirius damn near chokes again. It’s a rough glide because of the callouses on James’ hand, dry because of the lack of lube, almost uncomfortable—but it’s the best thing he’s ever felt and his hips jerk up again. He falls back on his elbows, tilts his head to the ceiling, and moans.

James whispers something Sirius has no energy to translate. There’s a sudden wetness between James’ palm and Sirius’ prick; the next slide goes so much more smoothly, sound positively obscene. He feels the flat of James’ thumb rubbing at the head and Sirius whines, pants, collapses onto his back.

“Oh, Sirius,” James tuts, voice low. “We’ve barely started, love.”

Heat spreads through Sirius’ veins like warmed honey, slow and viscous. His head spins a little. “Hmm.”

“Then again,” James whispers, “how much time do we have, really? Moony and Wormy can barge in at any moment. Then they’ll see us, won’t they? Maybe it’s a good thing your control is already shot—”

“James,” Sirius breathes. James has ceased to move, index finger tapping absentmindedly at a spot just below the head, and Sirius can’t fucking— “James, c’mon…”

“Or,” James continues cheekily, “you’ll burst right as they open the door. See you come all over yourself, or in my mouth, and who knows what they’ll think?”

To his complete horror, the thought of their friends seeing him fall apart is agonisingly arousing. He can almost see the shock on their faces, the confusion, maybe the mild intrigue—Sirius’ next exhale comes out in bursts and he lifts his hips slightly, desperate for a little friction. He’s certain that the aftermath of it would be incredibly embarrassing, even if Sirius can handle the jesting, but at the moment…

Well, he might combust.

James makes an amused little noise in the back of his throat. “Oh, you like that, don’t you?”

He moves his hand again, lightly, slowly. Sirius keens, shivering, and briefly and dazedly muses about potentially kicking James’ thigh for being annoying. Decides against it in the end, because suddenly a gust of air floats over the head of his prick, hot and damp and delightful—

“Let’s see how long you can last,” James whispers, lips brushing over sensitive skin.

Before Sirius can so much jerk his hips he’s being swallowed down; not particularly smooth, with James’ mouth going lower in little bursts as he adapts. If Sirius focuses — something that takes an embarrassing amount of strain to do through the thick cloud of pleasure — he can feel the pressure of shallow swallowing and skin-covered teeth, the chilliness of cooling drool beginning to pool at the base of his cock.

James’ tongue tickles him, exploratory, teasing. Sirius stuffs his fist in his mouth, bites down on his knuckles until he’s sure that any more pressure will break his skin; the moan that rumbles out from deep inside his chest sounds muffled and muted.

Then the heat disappears.

Sirius bites back a whine, lifts his head and meets James’ eyes. He’s confused and a little bit dazed and very, very turned on and wondering, almost a bit angrily, why James has stopped.

The view that greets him almost makes up for the lack of physical stimulation. James is on his knees, toned arms easily holding him up—he’s hovering right above Sirius’ weeping prick and is grinning like the devious little shit that he is, sharp teeth and full, bruised lips, pupils dilated and irises alight with heat.

“You shouldn’t muffle all those pretty sounds, love,” he rasps, voice hoarse and low, and Sirius’ hips jerk. “I want to hear you.”

Sirius groans, reaches out to curl his hands around one of the feet of the bed behind him, and startles so badly when James’ hot mouth surrounds his dick again that he produces a pathetic, whiny hiccup. James hums and takes him deeper, far quicker than before, hollows his cheeks and swallows and only gags a tiny bit. Perhaps Sirius, one of another life who let his arrogance and misery guide him maybe, would’ve been offended by how little James seems to be struggling—or jealous, wondering if James did this before.

This Sirius—the one who catalogues the shades of gold and green and brown in James Potter’s irises, who marvels at the jagged curves of James Potter’s Adam’s apple, who wishes to brush the tips of his fingers over the raised veins and tendons strung across the back of James Potter’s hands… this Sirius does not give one flying fuck, actually, because James is taking him like a Merlin-damned champ and Sirius is simply melting into a puddle, becoming one with the rug, will have to be scrubbed out of the fibres by a particularly annoyed elf later today.

It’s to be expected, anyway. He’s been waiting, got pulled into James’ orbit a month into their first year and has stayed there ever since. Sirius admired from afar but closer than most, relished in the sound of laughter, the warmth of an arm slung over his shoulders, the feeling of a knee pressed against his own. And it wasn’t like this at first, never, just felt that urge to remain close and hold on and hiss at the threat of being ripped away, but then there were growth spurts and deepening voices and then one day James smiled crookedly, ran his long fingers through Sirius’ hair and pressed his thumb against the hinge of Sirius’ jaw, and—

The tip of James’ tongue twitches, rhythmically brushes against sensitive and thin skin. It takes a momentous amount of effort to suppress the ever-mounting need to jerk his hips up, to increase the friction or lessen it or keep it going or stop it entirely, and Sirius groans deep inside his throat, muscles already starting to tense. He could sigh, dispel some of the tension, try to relax—but he wants to whine and twitch and hold himself back just barely, keep himself on that delightfully agonising edge that he was so easily dragged towards.

Sirius is panting and his head is reeling. He can barely register the coarse braided fibres of the rug digging into his shoulder blades and pressing against the back of his head, or the end of his abandoned quill tickling his jaw; the feeling of James’mouth around him is better than he ever imagined, absolutely nothing like his own lube-slicked palm, and he can’t think of anything butJames’ mouth and the tightening of his balls and the coiled, ever-growing knot of an incoming orgasm in his belly. It’s amazing, this, the end-result — or better yet, beginning — of years of hopeful musings and months of looks and smiles and subtle talking that Sirius interpreted as casual, meaningless flirting but prayed was true and purposeful.

This can’t possibly be just for a laugh. And even if it was, Sirius won’t ever be able to truly think of it as such.

James makes another one of those absolutely obscene slurping noises, one thumb stroking the sharp jut of Sirius’ hip and the other stroking the base of Sirius’ cock. There’s another finger teasing Sirius’ perineum, like James is considering doing something morethan taking a dick into his mouth, and that thought – combined with one last, slightly out-of-practice swirl of the tongue – causes Sirius to tip over the edge.

His vision whitens out and his back arches as the wave of pure pleasure crests and washes over him; it feels endless, yet somehow far too short, and if he distantly registers some sort of keening groan that must come from his own throat. His fingers and legs tingle, feel like jelly, and Sirius inhales, exhales, and allows himself to jerk a little as his cock spurts.

A long time coming, he thinks through a haze of syrupy feeling, breath stuttering in his chest and limbs lax with that temporary exhaustion of an orgasm. He’s too limp to even snigger at his own pun, can barely lift his head to look as James swallows and licks him clean from any come that leaked. He’s been wanting this for years, and dammit if it isn’t worth the wait. Sirius wants to kiss James, wants to mould his own mouth to James’, get lost in the movement and the taste and the tiny huffing breaths that always accompany a good snog.

But James leans back upright, and as Sirius blinks at him blearily from the floor he wipes his mouth, stuffs Sirius’ prick back inside his underwear, and hands him the trousers. When Sirius simply stares, brain still full of cotton, he pats Sirius’ thigh and nods at the garment.

“Put them on,” he murmurs.

Sirius forces the blood back into his limbs, always listening—stumbles upright and steps into the trousers, yanks them up and over his arse and zips them up. He’s only just closed the button and sat down again when the door handle jiggles and twists.

As their friends appear in the doorway, James leans back over his essay whilst Sirius remains leaned back on his hands, twitchy, with the breath punched out of him. Peter breezes in with a skip in his step, jumps on his bed with a satisfied sigh; Remus remains standing in the doorway, head slightly tilted to the side and eyes a bit narrowed.

“Merlin, Pads, you look flushed,” says Peter. He snatches several textbooks and some stray bits of parchment from his bookbag, spreads the materials out over his crimson sheets. “The last time I’ve seen you this red was when we played some Quidditch last summer.”

“During the heatwave, you mean?” Sirius drags a hand through his hair and shrugs when Peter nods. He hopes it looks effortless and casual. “Er—yeah, I’m hot.”

“Your vanity never fails to amaze me,” Peter shoots back. He grins and fishes a quill from his bag. “It isn’t that warm in here, though.”

“I run at high temperatures.”

Remus steps into their dorm slowly, eyes on a quiet James before they linger on Sirius. His nostrils flare, and his eyebrows lift, and then he stalks towards his bed. His foot collides with Sirius’ as he goes.

The behaviour doesn’t make any sense from an outsider’s perspective. But it does here, for Moony, because — and there’s an excited twist in Sirius’ gut — he can smell it. Must be even if Peter didn’t, because Peter’s sense of smell is surprisingly human, even as a rat, but Remus is not fully human, and—

“Made any progress on the essay, lads?” Remus asks, a forced casualness to his tone. “Wormy’s been nagging me about the ideal subject matter—the lazy git.”

“Work smarter, not harder,” says Peter loftily. He’s still grinning. “Merlin forbid I start thinking, you know. It’d be over for you lot.”

“I’m almost finished,” James says quietly, clearing his throat when his voice breaks, and Sirius bites down on the insides of his cheeks to keep himself from smiling. “Padfoot is stuck on a sentence, though.”

Remus’ brown eyes flick between the two of them. “I can imagine.”

James sends their friend a grin. The combination of swollen, bruised lips and straight white teeth makes it particularly roguish—there’s an edge to it, hovering between smug and daring. His eyes are like chips of flint.

“Gave him my lollipop to cheer him up a bit,” James says cheerily. “He’ll manage, our Pads. There’s some O’s in his future. I can taste it.”

Peter rolls his eyes exaggeratedly with a muttered, “Merlin, don’t we know it”, but Remus’ only reaction is the slight tightening of his jaw. James tilts his head, still grinning, and holds eye-contact until Remus’ gaze flicks to his bag.

“That’s nice,” he says. “Hope it helped.”

“It will,” says Sirius. Remus looks at him, and so does James, and after sharing a conspiratorial look with the latter Sirius gives the former a fat wink. “I’ll return the favour when he needs it.”

It’s a delight to see James’ cheeks flush red from his peripheral.

Yeah, Sirius thinks, stomach constricting pleasantly. I’ll return the favour, absolutely.

#prongsfootweek2023 #prongsfoot #bambibelle #my writing #soopsiedaisies #prongsfoot fanfiction #sirius black #james potter

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valentinesfrog · 11 months

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Creepy Crawlies

1k words, Calvak, pure fluff

Casey was fresh out of the shower, in her— well, Rita’s— tee shirt, hair still wet. She had spent most of the shower thinking about a tik tok her teenage niece had sent her (perks of being the cool aunt) and was now on a mission, hovering in the doorway of Rita’s home office.

“Yes, dear?” Rita asked amusedly after a few moments of this, not looking up from her computer.

“Files away?” Casey asked in turn, knowing Rita could very easily have out some sort of paper Casey was not supposed to see.

“Mhm.”

Casey grinned at that, entering and coming up behind Rita’s chair, slowly turning it to face her.

“Hello there,” Rita murmured, grasping her hips to tug her into her lap. “You smell good.”

“New conditioner.” Casey carefully took off Rita’s reading glasses and perched them on her head, desperately trying to bite back her grin. “I’ve got a question.”

“Go for it.”

Casey nestled into the crook of Rita’s shoulder, no longer able to hide her loopy smile. She knew if she looked at Rita’s face she wouldn’t be able to stop giggling, so…

“Would you still love me if I was a worm?”

There was a moment of silence, and Casey had to bite into her bottom lip hard to keep from laughing as she practically heard the gears in Rita’s brain turning.

“Casey, what on Earth are you talking about?”

“If a witch,” Casey started. “If a witch cast a spell that turned me into an earthworm, would you still love me?”

Rita pulled back to meet her gaze with narrowed eyes, studying her. “Did somebody bring special brownies into the DA’s office today? Are you feeling alright?”

“Ritaaaa,” Casey whined. “Just answer the question.”

“I… okay. Alright. If a witch—” Rita waited for Casey’s nod of confirmation. “—turned you into an earthworm.” Another nod. “Well, would I… would I know it’s you?”

“Yes.” Casey nodded again. “You’re present for the spell being cast.”

“I… would… I would take that witch to court and get her sentenced for a… assault? I suppose?” Rita’s brow furrowed and she looked away, thinking hard. “There’s not really a precedent for transfiguration, though if it was irreversible, I could probably argue manslaughter. Or… animal abuse. Is an earthworm—”

“Okay, okay, enough about court. I want to know if you would still love me in my wormy state.” Casey cupped Rita’s face with her hands and pressed their foreheads together, forcing Rita’s gaze back on her.

Rita looked entirely lost. “I’ll always love you.”

“Cop out.”

“How is that— that’s not a cop out! I’d still love you, you’re still Casey.”

“So you’d be fine dating a worm?” Casey asked, her smile turning somewhat wicked. “Just— hey, that’s my girlfriend, the worm?”

“Please don’t make this weird. Weird…er than it already was, somehow.”

“What would you do with the worm? Just leave me outside for a bird to snatch up and eat then puke up for her bab—”

“Okay! Okay, no need to get— Jesus, Case. I would not leave you outside. I… I would…”

Maybe it was a little bit of an unfair question, as Casey knew how Rita felt about insects and generally anything slimy. (Not good.) But it was a test of loyalty, okay?

“I would scoop you up on a leaf,” Rita began, now running her hands up and down Casey’s sides as she concentrated somewhere off to the side, suddenly taking this very seriously. “And if— well, you’re still Casey, so I guess you’re a human in… trapped in a worm state. So I’d get you a little dollhouse and a plate of… worm… appropriate snacks… is fruit a worm snack? Can’t worms just— whatever. And I’d tuck you into the little dollhouse bed with some leaves and fruit. Sound good?”

“Mhm.” Casey pressed a kiss to Rita’s forehead. “Would you take me to court with you? Keep me in your pocket?”

“No!” Rita looked mildly horrified by that suggestion. “You’re suddenly a worm, with no human responsibilities— why the hell would you still want to go to court?”

“You’re just scared the judge would see me in your pocket and get freaked out.”

“If I took the witch to court, you could come with me to watch. That’s it. I draw the line at the witch trial.” Rita nodded firmly. “Final answer. Are you— don’t laugh at me!”

“But you’re so cute,” Casey giggled, nestling back into the crook of her neck. “Thank you for loving me even in a worm state.”

“Is there something I should know?” Rita asked, wrapping her arms around Casey’s waist. “Have you pissed off a witch recently?”

“Not that I know of.”

“Then would you mind telling me where this bizarre thought experiment that feels vaguely like a trap came from?”

“Ella.”

Rita’s mouth took on an oh shape. “Okay. That explains a lot. One of her… tic tacs?”

Rita knew full well what a tik tok was, but would insist on butchering anything that had to do with current internet trends in front of the kids. Casey’s nieces and nephews found it absolutely hilarious, and while Rita acted like it was all part of her detached facade, Casey thought she secretly might like to watch them laugh. Just a little bit. “Of course.”

“Well, I hope I succeeded.”

“Above and beyond as always.”

“Casey?”

“Mm?”

“Why aren’t you wearing pants?”

“Mm.” Casey didn’t really have a good answer for that, opting to press kisses to Rita’s neck instead. “Would you buy me little worm size outfits if I was—”

“Say the word ‘worm’ one more time, and I swear on—”

Casey cut her off with a real kiss, not needing to hear the end of that sentence to know it would be a creative threat involving witches and spell casting.

#calvak #casey novak #rita calhoun

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talkingbl · 1 month

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Things I Want to See in More BLs (Mar 2024 ver.)

This is very Thai BL focused. Here's what I want to see more of this year:

Good stories from the companies with the money for good production. I feel like 2023 was kind of a slow year for competent storytelling + excellent production quality. My BL of 2023 was probably I Feel You Linger In The Air because it was one of the only ones to combine both decently enough.

I'm not sure how to label this yet but I'd like more reality shows like DMD's Friendship The Reality. I've not finished it yet but the concept is really intriguing to me. These types of shows can result in a couple of interesting outcomes. Either:

People get to see how the pairings are made, so it takes away the urge to project a real relationship onto the actors;

Newer actors get to showcase their skills and possibly gain some initial support for their early projects;

We get to really vet the chemistry between actors before they're placed in a pairing so that fans are not as weary about potential re-pairings (like the case with Net and James);

We get to just get to know the people we're supporting by watching our faves develop into their own; or, perhaps most importantly,

We get to see and maybe even comment on what goes into their media training (since some actors seem to have a problem with being sexist, racist, homophobic, etc.).

These types of shows really give us insight into the training and (possibly even a bit of the personalities) of these actors in a way that I think facilitates a more camera-ready talent base.

Fewer tiktok influencers and more seasoned actors. If we could get more professional actors like Nonkul, and fewer 18 year old influencers who actually want to be singers or kpop idols, that would be great.

More actually good OSTs. MSP's OST was one of the best in any Thai/Japanese/Korean drama I've ever watched??? And it was all cast-made. I'm not saying everything needs to be made by the cast, but it needs to sound good enough to be ear-wormy.

Actually good horror BLs. I think to pull these off, we need more natural actors going into it, higher production quality (ESPECIALLY audio quality, like 75% of good horror is sound design), and better execution on concepts.

For example, DFF's teaser is what DFF should have actually been… Like, it was good when it looked like a scary gang of gays murdering a classmate and being creepily gleeful about it. And the end product is still kind of that but the execution of the story became fucked for me in like Episode 2. I also don't think it balanced the romance aspects of the show well enough with the horror aspects in the beginning to capture my interest. Horror is very dear to my heart--one of my first loves in film. Good horror it should be shocking. The villains should repulse you. Here, the main crew of guys were billed as the villains in the teaser and yet from episode one, I was not that interested in their personalities, relationships, backstories, etc. It was like there was too much plot and not enough character. The mystery wasn't as captivating as I think the showrunner thought it was and the violence didn't feel dire.

Personally, I think IFYLTA was a better horror BL than DFF lol.

Fewer Singer-first Actors. Forget about what I said about MSP's OST for a second. I am so tired of seeing decent acting talent slowly get phased out of acting to become idol singers. It's okay if it's like Nunew who, in my opinion, is a better singer than actor. But when it's someone like Fourth with genuine acting talent that is becoming ever more scarce, it's always sad to them fall to the dark side lmao. This is something I even noticed with DMD's Friendship the Reality. Like 90% of the guys wanted to be singers and were using acting (particularly in a BL) as a stepping stone measure. And I know that in that case they were accepted into DMD as "artists" rather than "actors", but the end goal of that show was to star in a BL and like most of them didn't want to do that... We need more thespians in this genre.

More visual diversity in ML roles. This one is particularly for Thailand where they will quickly cast a darker-skinned actor in a villain role but not an ML. I'd like to see better representation in ML roles not only because I think it's important for people to realize darker-skinned people can be just as handsome/beautiful, talented, and versatile as their pale-skinned counterparts but also because many people simply want to see this (and you can get more people interested in the genre, which means more growth in the industry). So, for purely capitalistic reasons, it even makes sense haha

#thai bl boys love #dmd friendship the reality #dff #dead friend forever #fourth nattawat my school president msp

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poisonousdelights · 2 months

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PARTIES: @poisonousdelights and @woveninstardust TIME: Early February WHERE: Some woods near the ocean. SUMMARY: Isa meets Maggie in the woods so that the two of them can go on a hunt for Wormy. A lot of love is shared between the two. WARNINGS: None, really, just a lot of cuteness. Some mentions of death/murder.

Even before her incarceration, Isa would always volunteer to go with Maggie into the woods whenever she wanted to search for one of her cryptids. She didn’t believe in much back then but the thrill of being out late with her best friend, not knowing what they could get up to was enticing enough for her to agree, not to mention the fact that she never liked Maggie going alone. Her lack of belief didn’t mean that there weren’t normal dangers out there. These days, now that Isa knows what she is, she was more willing to believe that the two of them could run into a bigfoot in the middle of Wormwoods which was even more reason for her to accompany her friend through the night. The last thing she wanted was Maggie getting caught out there with no back up. It wasn’t like she hated it either as the two of them always had so much fun together no matter what happened.

She pulled her backpack off of her shoulder and unzipped it to show all the snacks that she’d brought for their outing, Isa grinning at Maggie while she listed them off. “I got your sushi, thought maybe you’d like some wasabi to help warm you up, and a thermos of hot tea from work. There’s also chocolate because you know I can’t go without it, and the gummy worms you wanted in case we find Wormy. I’m sure he’ll like them…positive.”

She didn’t look too positive though. Was it insensitive to feed a worm the gummy form of themselves? Maggie was the expert and Isa trusted her judgment enough not to question it too much but the doubts were still there. “Do you think we’ll find him tonight? It’s been snowing a lot…”

There were very, very, very few people that Maggie would consider taking cryptid hunting with her. The list of reasons was lengthy, with reasons ranging from ‘they think cryptids are stupid so why bother’ to ‘they will take the “hunting” part of cryptid hunting literally’ to ‘They are not patient enough’. But Isa was not any of those things. Not even a little. If anyone in Wicked’s Rest was invited to roam around the woods looking for cryptids with her, it would always, always be Isabela Caceres.

A vision of blue and yellow, the girl felt a bit more like the Stay Puft Marshmallow man than an artist. Her mom had insisted that she put on her snow coat after having caught her sneaking out the back door without it. (Twenty four, and she still would always lose that fight…) Between the vibrant, puffy thing that felt as if it swallowed her whole, the hat pulled down tight over her ears, and the entirely-too-long scarf, Maggie felt a little sillier than usual. A lot sillier than usual. But the moment Isa was in sight, that ridiculous feeling melted right off of her, and a giddy, infectious smile spread across her face.

“You really are the best, did you know that?” Leave it to Isa to remember all of the snacks. Had she been left to her own devices, Maggie would have entirely forgotten dinner in her cryptid-fueled determination. “I have an extra scarf- Mom made me bring you one because of the snow.” She gestured to the flakes swirling lightly about them before batting a few away from her face.

Gummy worms! Why hadn’t she thought of that? The idea was perfect. An offering- sweet, delicious, and worm-y in shape. The girls eyes twinkled with excitement. “I think it’s a brilliant idea. Very positive…” As for if they would find Wormy… Maggie looked up, squinting at the snowy night sky. “I don’t see why not. It’s quieter- less people around, so maybe he’ll be more likely to come out. Maybe he likes the snow, too…”

For some reason the offer of the extra scarf and knowing that Maggie’s mother had a part to play in it made her emotional. Isa longed for her parents' affection back, wanted it so badly that she dreamed about it on occasion and she was certain it was because her mind was trying to compensate for the loss. But having Maggie and her family on her side, even after being convicted of involuntary manslaughter, was so nice. It was the little things that really showed her that the people who cared weren’t affected by her past, at least not enough to treat her differently. The lamia wasn’t even sure if she’d been asked anything about that night with Ruth by the Carter family and she so appreciated them for it.

The scarf was a gesture of love and one that Isa really needed, not just because of her own family, but because it was so damn cold. This snake thing really was a hindrance. She’d never liked the cold before but ever since she’d become a lamia it was so much worse and now she had to wear sunglasses at night on top of it. Gingerly taking the scarf from her friend, she carefully wrapped it around her neck so that she didn’t knock off said sunglasses in her excitement. The last thing she needed was to turn Maggie to stone. Why would the girl still be her friend after something like that?

“I think you’re the best, along with your mother, but we can agree to disagree.” She grinned at Maggie before placing a kiss to her friend’s cheek, something she was sure that she was used to. It was like she hadn’t done it since the day they met.

She took a seat on the hard ground, wishing she had thought to bring a blanket. At least Maggie looked warm. “Did she make you wear all of that too? I bet you’re warm at least.” It wasn’t that Isa didn’t have layers on herself, she very much did, but that puffy jacket looked like the best thing a person could have in this weather. She quickly reached up and adjusted her beanie to pull over her ears, relishing the little bit of warmth that came from the fix.

The confirmation that Maggie believed Wormy would like the snack food was enough to reassure the girl, a sense of pride replacing the worry that had crept in. Looking around the quiet woods, Isabela wondered if there really would be less people…or creatures out tonight. She was sure that some of these cryptids Maggie was so passionate about could withstand the cold better than anything but what would that mean for them? “I’m sure worms like the cold. I don’t know why Wormy would be in Maine, of all places, if they didn’t.”

Rumors were nasty things. If there were any real monsters in Wicked’s Rest, they were made of malicious whispers spread from person to person, built from misunderstanding and an inability to see the truth. People could whisper all sorts of things about Isa. But, as Maggie’s mother had taught her so very long ago, as she had learned for herself, just because people say things doens’t necessarily make those things true. What happened at the top of that water tower was a tragedy- plain and simple. But, if asked or approached with one of those nasty little lies, Maggie would tell anyone the truth: she did not think for a second that Isa was guilty. And if they had anything else to say on the matter, they could kindly go straight to hell.

“I can definitely agree that my mom is the best. She says you have to go on one of her tours when it gets warm again, by the way.” Maggie’s eyes crinkled with delight. Isa had been kissing her cheek for probably as long as they’d been friends. Yet, every time it happened, it brought pure happiness Maggie’s way.

Maggie rummaged about in the bottom of her bag, looking to make sure she had all her supplies. “Warm is an understatement.” Roasting was probably the better word. Layer after layer had been insisted on. It was getting to the point that all Maggie wanted was to peel off at least two layers and go dive into a snowbank. She was certain there would be a cartoonish amount of steam if she did. “Do you want another layer? I’ve got too many and…” Dark brown eyes flicked from the bag to the chilly-looking girl on the ground. “I kinda like you in non-ice-pop form.” She didn’t wait for an answer, beginning the struggle to shed layers like a butterfly coming out of a cocoon.

“I mean- Wormy’s probably pretty warm, honestly. He’s chilling in the water, and the water’s warmer than the air right now, which means we’re getting some good fog on the water and-” The words were a rapidfire ramble. An explanation no one had asked for, or maybe even wanted. It was something that made some people groan whenever cryptids were mentioned in her presence. It was something that made people groan in general about Maggie. She curbed herself as soon as she realized. “But it’s still pretty cold… I have hope he likes it.”

“Well, you are your mother’s daughter, are you not?” If Maggie wanted to argue about whether she was the best or not, Isa was willing to talk about it until she was blue in the face (a feat that probably wasn’t impossible with the wind gently blowing her hair back). She’d been nothing but a shining light since the Caceres family had moved to Wicked’s Rest, a light that she had to follow through the darkness on more than one occasion. The whole reason that Isabela hadn’t lost herself while she was imprisoned was because of the various letters she’d gotten from her sister and her best friend. If it hadn’t been for those, a good portion of them being from Maggie, her path could have been so much darker.

So, yes, Maggie was the best. There was no debate in her mind.

“Oh, has she added anything new? I’ll come even if she hasn’t but I feel like these sky quake things should be part of her tour now. Somethings gotta be causing them.” Her eyes drifted up but she couldn’t see much of anything through the dark lenses. The quakes, the noises, they were sometimes too much to handle. Any information on them would be nice.

Looking back over at Maggie, Isa went to protest but no words could come before a giggle bubbled to the surface as she watched her friend struggle with the top layer of her clothes….and, well, she was in no position to turn down warmth. A pair of jeans and a puffy jacket wasn’t much during the winter nights in Maine. “Okay, but let me help before you scare Wormy away.” She was on her feet again, moving to help peel back the clothes that Maggie was offering her which cemented in her mind how fantastic the girl was.

She listened to the rambling intently, the lamia always forgetting a lot of the details for the cryptids around town. There were so many and with that came many facts that got mixed and jumbled in her mind that she had a tendency to forget a lot about what Maggie had told her before. All Isa felt was disappointment when she stopped as she wished by now that she knew the Argentine was all ears. “No, keep going. I forgot he was in the water so I’m sure I’ve forgotten other things. Tell me everything.”

Giggles bubbled up out of her, escaping into the frosty night air as Maggie struggled to escape the layers her mother had insisted upon. A piece of her wondered if the woman had known this would be the case: her daughter standing in the snow, coat half off and sweatshirt caught just above her nose, trying to give warmth to the only person crazy enough to go along with her antics on such a cold night. If that was the case, then she’d wear a million layers next time her mother told her. If it meant sharing a bit of warmth with someone who remained a consistent bright spot in her own life.

It was so easy to forget sometimes that Isa was fine with her as she was. Rambling about cryptids and all. Never trying to tell her such things couldn’t exist, or to grow up and move on. Her gaze softened, brown eyes peering out from the hem of a sweatshirt before disappearing behind fabric. A moment later, and the sweatshirt was being pushed into her friend’s hands. She wanted to thank her. There was so much she wanted to thank her for, and yet, the words were caught in Maggie’s throat. Her nose scrunched, the corners of her eyes crinkling as she smiled.

“Mom’s always tweaking things a little… every time something weird happens, she finds a way to work it in.” She said, shrugging back on the warmth of the yellow parka. “Dad and I keep placing bets on how she’s gonna weave the sky quakes in. I think she’ll weave it into another story. Dad thinks she’ll start something new.”

Tell me everything. Those three words were still ringing in her ears. Lots of people could say that they were interested, but very few actually meant it. It was a rare thing to be listened to and not feel like an annoyance. “Well,” the word tumbled into the open air, a two-note melody that carried out towards the water, towards the deep where creatures dwelled. “You know he’s the reason some sailors don’t make it through Storm’s Eye Trench, right?” Maggie slowly meandered a few feet away, eyes turning towards the dark of the sea, the moonlight and snow illuminating the crests of waves in the distance.

“The sea’s a thing to be respected… to be feared. Wormy’s just a part of that. But sometimes sailors and fishermen think they’re stronger than the forces of nature. That the sea is something they can just… conquer. Use. Now, those are the stories you hear where ships wreck, bits of flotsam the only parts ever found of those boats. But for as many stories of sea monsters wrecking ships sailed by captains who think they’re gods, there are still stories of some people being saved by something out there… I’d like to think it’s him.”

“Maggie, one layer at a time.” She was laughing as the words came out, struggling along with her friend while they worked with the clothes. These were the moments that made cryptid hunting with Maggie so worth it. Any moment with her friend was worth the world but laughing together over silly things like this were always her favorite times. They could never find a cryptid on their hunts and Isa would be just as happy as she’d be if they’d found every single one every single time they came out to these woods. It would still be worth the long nights in the cold because she got that time with her.

Noticing the look that Maggie was giving her over the sweater, Isa stuck her tongue out through her smile, not sure why she was being stared at like that but going with it. But soon the clothes were in her hands and she was sure how to do this without risking the stone magic. Isa couldn’t get this sweater on without taking those glasses off and she didn’t like that. Just to be sure that she didn’t hurt her friend, she turned her back to Maggie and walked a little bit away but not far enough that she couldn’t hear her.

“Something new? Like what? Gosh, I really need to start going on your moms tour more, I feel like I’m missing out on a lot.” As she spoke, she took her own jacket off and carefully removed the sunglasses from her eyes, making sure to place them between her knees so she didn’t risk losing them. The lamia was quick, throwing the sweater on, sweeping her hair back into place, and then putting those glasses back on so she didn’t risk Maggie coming to help her the way she had. She knew her best friend, she’d want to return the favor.

She turned back, shrugging her jacket back on with a smile just as Maggie started to continue her talk about Wormy. Yea, she had forgotten all of this even with all of the times that she’d heard the facts before and they were just as interesting as the first time. “Wait, really?” She loved that trench. It was a sad area where so many tragedies had happened but all of the stories she had heard about the area were so cool. Storms popping up out of nowhere? I mean, who wouldn’t think that was cool?

As many times as Isa had heard about Maggie’s mom being an amazing storyteller, she would always counter with how amazing Maggie was herself. The girl could keep her attention when she was only speaking of a random piece of driftwood, that’s how captivating Isa found her. She hung on every word, eyes widening with the last line. “I bet he is. I love what you said about the sea being respected and feared, that’s so right. I’m sure you’re also right about wormy. The ying and yang, the waves of the sea, it all comes full circle, right?”

“Did you hear anything about The Big Finn? I’m still doing some research on it, but it’s been a whole thing lately. I think she might weave it into her tour. Plus, there’s the goo… the reindeer, the snowmen…” Maggie fiddled with the zipper on her coat, retreating back into the warmth of her coat.

She was beginning to hope that the snow wouldn’t send the sea monster swimming into warmer waters. If Maggie was dragging her best friend into the dark and cold, she didn’t want it to be a waste of her time. It wouldn’t be fair, making Isa freeze for something that was entirely her own obsession. Had she been a better friend, she would suggest that she and Isa call off the Wormy hunt for the night and go watch movies on her couch. Had she been a better friend, she would have started dragging Isa to the nearest warm building rather than just giving her another layer.

But the call of mystery was Maggie’s siren song. The soft crash of the waves on the shore in the distance was the voice of the wyrm, beckoning her forward, asking her to find him. Somewhere out there was the world her mother’s stories had promised her. Somewhere out beyond where her eyes could see were creatures that existed far longer than the world of men ever had. Remaining, enduring, surviving all because the world of human kind had forgotten what was really out there. Time made stories of everything… and she was determined to wipe the dust away from the pages.

“Moms better at the story part of it.” She shrugged, jamming her hands in her pocket. Maybe gloves would have been a good idea… “I’m just good at the drawing and listening bit.” The truth was that the words were all her mothers. And probably, the truth was that Maggie had butchered the story two or twenty times. But Isa still smiled and encouraged her… perhaps there was enough in that.

“Yeah… balance, I think. The sea gives and it takes… and so can Wormy.”

Oh…how much had Isa missed? “No, what’s The Big Finn?” At least she knew about the other three things mentioned, those had been hard to miss. The goo had almost taken over her apartment and she had been stuck in Deersprings for at least two weeks because of it. It had been the worst to say the least.

Speaking of that part of town. “Oh! Have you heard about the gingerbread houses in Deersprings? Apparently they were like somebody else’s houses and they just became gingerbread or something. I don’t know what happened to the people but whoever made them I hope they know it was delicious.” A proud smile graced her features, happy to contribute to the conversation and hoping that Maggie hadn’t heard about the houses yet. Isa liked bringing new things to her friend, always liked seeing how excited it made her to hear new lore from around town.

“I think you’re good at the story part too.” The snake threw a look her friend’s way, wishing beyond anything that Maggie would believe her ability of storytelling a little more. She’d always loved listening to her. Yes, Maggie’s mother was so good at her job but it was clear that her daughter had picked up that ability too. “I always love listening to you. You make it all sound so interesting.” In truth, if Isa weren’t as close with Maggie as she was, she wouldn’t know anything about the cryptids around their town and she would have been okay with that. When she was younger she’d never really had much interest in it all but when Maggie came into her life she and her family had a way of drawing her into the legends that are literally created around them everyday. She loved it now.

“It’s kind of like life in general. It gives you crap but then it gives you the beautiful things that you could never have imagined. Like best friends.” Isa flashed a smile before grabbing the sushi from her bag and holding it out towards the other. That was the good thing about the weather, at least the food wasn’t going to go bad.

Sometimes, Maggie couldn’t believe she’d been so lucky as to find a friend like Isa. There were very few people in town who didn’t think the girl’s interests were just a little weird. Cryptids weren’t real, and dedicating spare time to romping about in the dark after ‘non-existent’ things made no sense, not to them. But for as long as she had known her, Isa had never told her she was weird. She’d asked Maggie questions, listened while she prattled on endlessly, and agreed to go around looking for the things that others said didn’t exist. She’d never told the other girl, but the time Isa had been imprisoned had been the hardest. It was why she sent letter after letter, why she’d tried to visit when she could…

“Like the whole of the houses? All of it? Just gingerbread?” Now that was something worth investigating. Or at least nibbling on in curiosity. A mischievous light twinkled in her eyes as she glanced around performatively. “I think we should go steal as many gingerbread shingles as we can carry after this.”

She felt a strange little pang in her heart as she listened to her best friend speak. There were times where Maggie felt like she just got lost. She didn’t think she was as good of a storyteller as her mom, and she was definitely not as clever as Frankie or their dad. She had her markers and pencils and the world that lived in her head. But Isabela Caceres saw Maggie as something beautiful, something important. God, she really was the best… She ducked her head for a moment, grateful for the long blue braids falling about her face as they concealed the watery eyes, the mushy smile…

“You’re my favorite person in the world, did you know that?” She declared, taking the box of sushi before she started her stroll down towards the water.

“Just gingerbread! It was so cool! Like they had frosting and gumdrops and different candies decorating it like an actual gingerbread house. And they had little people inside too.” Only they weren’t so little. They were lifesize and the faces they’d been making were worrisome but Isa had learned long ago not to question things in Wicked’s Rest. Even before she was what she was she’d suspected that things weren’t quite right around this place. She’d never encountered things like book wyrms or inanimate objects moving by themselves back in Argentina but it happened so often after she’d moved. It made it so much easier to not question Maggie and her beliefs even if she hadn’t been the biggest believer. Supporting your friend was worth more than being right.

Turns out, Maggie might have been right all along.

She recognized that glint, her smile broadening as she nodded her head. “Yes! We can store them at my apartment so your mom doesn’t question why we have a ton of gingerbread laying around your room.” Maybe they could even get one of those M&M door handles from the hungry deer.

She looked up at her friend's words, her grin slipping into a genuinely affectionate smile. Without Maggie, Isa’s world would have turned out so differently. Not only had she been there when she’d first moved to the country but her best friend had been what got her through the hardest time of her life. Without those letters, without the visits, Isa couldn’t have been sure she would have made it through prison. So much had been against her behind those bars with being one of the youngest there but Maggie’s words kept her heart soft where so many others would have hardened under the circumstances. She wasn’t lonely like so many she’d seen in those cells because she had a light on the outside guiding her through and she could never thank her enough for it.

“Maggie…you will always be my favorite person in the world. I love you so much, okay?” Isa followed her friend’s footsteps through the snow, trying to match each indentation with her own feet. She would follow Maggie anywhere.

#Threads #Thread: Maggie #The Search for Wormy #//these two own my heart

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mlobsters · 6 months

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supernatural s10e15 the things they carried (w. jenny klein)

DEAN Porn? SAM What? No. l-it's nothing. DEAN Hey, look, no judgement from me. Just, you know, not where we eat. SAM Dude, it wasn't porn. DEAN Okay, "erotica." Whatever. Zip it up.

ha ha. jared what are they doing to your hair. smooth and bouncy

DEAN Sam! I know what you're doing over there, and it ain't porn. Look, man, we have checked every website, okay? We've checked it twice. Sammy, when we work a case, there's always that point when we have to face the truth, right? Even if we don't like it. Well, truth is, there's no way around this. We saw what happened to Cain, okay? I'm not happy about it. But l got to move on. So l'm gonna keep doing what we do while l still can. And l'd like you to be there with me.

it's like a calm and reasonable version of dean's looming deal, and this time he can tell sam he wants him present while he has him. is this growth?

continuing on their trend of cutest babies. what a sweetheart. my eyes glaze over and i get the grabby hands. i would like to hold the baby

appreciate they're trying to acknowledge the mental health and suicide struggles with veterans within the context of their monster hunting story.

BETH My Rick, when he's home and good, I have to kill the spiders, you know? Rick was a kind soul. He never took more life than he had to.

oh no more paralleling to our hero's plight

cole is back, huh. ok? did they pick this story so they could bring him back?

let's just watch this top secret video of the military shooting people, on speaker, at this cafe. sure

random action shot of baby on this cool bridge as they're just... driving to the scene of a crime

okay well. this killer wormy thing reminds me of the xfiles ice episode crossed with wrath of khan ear worm bug thing. and we had that spn one with the black ear goo, eve's... somethings? oof. s6e16 apparently. (rip rufus)

did he say sammy? is that allowed? maybe an exception can be made when you've got a desert monster worm in your digestive tract

LOL dean's face would say otherwise

haha now he's just trying to irk him. little brother vibes (even though the actor is older than jackles)

COLE Mm. So, last time you saw this thing, it turned people into killers, too? DEAN Yeah, except that one did a mind-control number on us. (Starts putting jumper cables on a car battery.) COLE Damn. Day in, day out, you and Sammy saving people from things they just can't wrap their minds around . . . Hell, and nobody even notices it. Hell, at least l get a medal for my efforts. But you . . . I tried to kill your ass. DEAN Yeah, well, good times. COLE I almost took you off the map. Who would be saving me now? DEAN Yeah, well, let's not get too sentimental about it.

i guess all it takes is a freaky worm down your gullet to be like hey you guys provide a really valuable service to the world. this guy is a good actor and i like how he's really giving his all, i just think his character and storylines have been not great, which is unfortunate

at least it's consensual torture i guess. pretty shot framing

screaming "chest compressions" in my mind right now. so usually when we get a character heavy showing them in their best light type episode, it means they're about to die. will i see it coming for once or have they made me paranoid?

DEAN That road? That means giving up. If you think that's where you're headed, then you've got it ass-backwards. You're gonna fight harder than you ever have. You understand?

you listening to yourself, dean?

hot. the way dean snatches his arm back made me laugh

paranoid it is! well, i'm glad dean got a win figuring out how to save cole and redeeming himself a tiny bit more

SAM Hey, Cole. Listen, uh, l, uh . . . For whatever it's worth . . . I really wish it hadn't ended this way. COLE Yeah, me, too, Sammy boy.

you know, some people can get away with way too fond and familiar nicknames with people they don't know very well. cole, in my very humble opinion, is not one of them. what a funny choice.

so the wiki page about nicknames links this article

Cole Trenton refers to the boys as Sammy and Dean-o. He wrote about this character choice here.

so i'm skimming through looking for quotes (i don't read other people's recaps/reviews on episodes, trying to keep it to my personal experience for this first time through) and .... it's in the comments????? is this like. a confirmed source?? LOL. i was too embarrassed to read it past the first few paragraphs. NICKNAME CONTROVERSY

very, youtube apology video

SAM I tried. l did. I tried. l just couldn't save this one. DEAN You know, you can do everything right. And even still, sometimes... the guy still dies.

way to not so subtly bring up your impending doom and freak sam out again. i guess i should appreciate that the mark got ignored for a good chunk earlier because i'd be very very over it by now if it had been Present since whenever he got it

#supernatural #spnwatch #spn 10x15 #jenny klein

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