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saintchaser · 7 months

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“hi.”

“hey.”

“aren’t you tired after the game?”

“can’t sleep,” sirius said, kicking his feet up on remus’ bed. “it seems like you’re in the same situation, though. what’s up with you?”

“nothing,” remus muttered, pulling his knees to his chest and hugging his legs, his chin resting on his knee.

“come on, i know you better than that,” sirius tsked, putting his head on remus’ shoulders and lacing their fingers together, an old habit, his touch igniting sparks in remus’ body.

“do you have a cigarette?” remus asked, changing the topic of the conversation.

sirius gave him one of those devilish grins, that only he had, and that made remus’ heart thrum in his chest. then, held out a hand for him. “let’s go sit on the windowsill. otherwise, potter will wake up and complain about the smoke.”

“alright,” remus sighed, watching sirius get up and look through the pockets of the jeans discarded on the floor.

he watched him, a moonlit shadow, open the window, and he took that as a sign to get up and join sirius, his joints still aching. sirius pulled remus next to him, their knees knocking together and sirius’ leg between remus’.

sirius lit his cigarette up leaned forward, awkwardly but with his usual elegance, bringing their mouths close together, helped remus with his. he leaned back against the wall, and remus watched his plump lips wrapped around the cigarette, and how hie eyes were lit up by the dim spark.

“so?”

“it’s stupid.”

“is it, though?”

“mhm.”

“i’m willing to listen to it either way,” sirius shrugged, taking a long drag out of his cigarette, and remus watched it flicker between sirius’ long fingers. “we’re mates, aren’t we?”

“that’s the problem,” remus said, looking away from sirius. “that if i tell you, it will all go down to hell.”

“oh, come on, you’re being dramatic.” sirius grinned, pushing himself up on his knees so that he was sitting next to remus, and so that remus had to turn his head to face him. their lips were so close, and there was a lump in remus’ throat, and his heart was beating so fast, and, and—

“let me do it?”

remus didn’t even know what he meant by that, but he nodded, and sirius’ mouth was pressed against his, their cigarettes discarded somewhere that didn’t matter anymore. and sirius’ mouth was pressed against his, and his fingers were wrapped around remus’ arm, and sirius’ shirt was crumpled in remus’ fist and it wad all too much and too little at the same time and it was addicting and fucking beautiful.

it might have been a few minutes. it might have been hours, or days, or forever, until they broke apart, and sirius laughed. remus didn’t know what they were laughing about, but he joined in, their laughter bouncing through the smoke-filled air.

“why did you do that?” remus asked, and tried to stop himself from bringing his hand up to his lips, to make sure that it was all real.

“just wanted to. been wanting to for a while, actually,” sirius added, and there was something in his eyes that made remus go weak in the knees.

remus hummed, his eyes gliding over to sirius’ lips, which parted into a grin.

“right. well, i—”

“you think i should do it again, don’t you?” he asked, looking at him with a raised brow, and an amused expression.

remus nodded, and sirius cupped the back of his neck, where soft curls were nestled. he pressed their mouths together, again, and remus let himself be guided by him. he let himself be loved, he let himself be held, through cigarette smoke and cold night’s air.

#they’re so fucking stupid (i love them)#they’re the biggest idiots in the world (they’re losers in love (affectionately speaking))#anyways!!! something something wolfstar smoking together instead of TALKING #COMMUNICATE YOU IDIOTS #TRUST ME. JUST TALK FOR ONCE #anyways!!! i have a lot of feelings about them #sirius black #remus lupin #wolfstar #my writing

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vvemo · 9 months

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I think i yassified desuhiko just a lil

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beanghostprincess · 2 months

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Usopp's constant negativity and anxiety are something useful and "positive" at the end of the day (eg: fight against Perona) because he doesn't necessarily need to change his views, he just needs to trust himself and his abilities more and he just uses what he has at the moment which is, you know, negativity. It is not something positive but it does keep him safe from danger and he will end up being proud of himself and stronger than he could ever imagine, but that doesn't mean he'll stop being negative. It's just another personality trait a lot of people have, and Usopp using it for his advantage is something great, I feel. He takes pride in being like that. He's loud and shameless about it.

Unlike Sanji, who dwells on his negativity on his own. Quietly. And lets it consume him without having any power over it. His self-sabotaging and self-sacrificing behavior often comes from a place of giving up out of fear of others getting hurt to save him because that's pretty much his core fear. Being a burden/Not being able to save the people he cares about from himself and his past. It's not something the manga shows that much in comparison to Usopp's negativity, but Sanji's pessimistic views are pretty much one of the reasons why WCI happens and why he puts himself in the worst situation in Wano.

And I think (this is why I'm writing all of this) that they're perfect for each other because Usopp could show him that being afraid and negative isn't something so bad. After all, at least Usopp is aware that if he can't do something, the crew will help him out no matter what. Usopp's negative, yes, but it's alright because he doesn't go through it on his own. Even if he does look shameless and "selfish" when desperately asking for help (he isn't, by the way. It's actually pretty reasonable to act like that). Sanji needs to learn to ask for help shamelessly too and he needs to stop putting all the weight of the world's negativity on his shoulders. They need to carry it together.

Like- There's just something so personal in Usopp going "Yes! I am scared. Frightened even. Please, help!" because he might not like that part of him and he's trying to be stronger and more independent every day, but he acknowledges that things can go south and his reaction is very fight or flight but pretty mostly flight to be safe. While Sanji's response is always to fight because he refuses to let others know he needs help in case something happens to them (and also because he feels ashamed of feeling weak). Usopp shares the responsibility and accepts that he's kind of a loser sometimes but Sanji refuses to do so.

This is just a thought about Sanji learning that being a coward and asking for help isn't bad because they're meant to do stuff like that, and Usopp growing to be stronger and independent but not necessarily stop being pessimistic because sometimes you just... Are like that. Sometimes you're scared. Sometimes you have anxiety. And that's alright. You can be strong anyway.

#now this is one of the 1289123719834718937981 reasons why sanuso works so well together #they're literally perfect for each other idc #i just find the way oda portrays usopp's negativity really cool bc he takes that one 'negative' trait and turns it into a defense mechanism #against perona i mean #water 7 literally happens because usopp actually lets himself drown in negativity for once instead of trusting his crew like he always does #he won't stop seeing himself as less important than them and instead of communicating that or asking for help he decides to leave #it's a reasonable response when you're on the verge of a mental breakdown tbh but sanji teaches him it's okay for others to help you #which is funny because sanji refuses to use that for himself but that's because he's stupid and hates himself #they both hate themselves a lot but love each other a ton so. great relationship. teaching the other how to love #me when i say 'loser baby' from hazbin hotel could easily be sanuso but nobody shares that specific braincell with me #one piece #black leg sanji #usopp #sanuso

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yeapples · 3 months

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johnny boy dump bc i been thinking abt him a lot lately…

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raineandsky · 4 months

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The Villain's Housekeeper

(part 1) (part 2) (part 3) (part 4) (part 5) (part 6) (part 7) (part 8) (part 9) (part 10) (part 11)

tw: guns, death

“Just tell me,” the superhero spits, and the villain laughs in his face.

The hero is free. The hero is free, and nothing the superhero does to the villain can change that. The villain admitted too much whilst the superhero was listening in, and they’ve rectified it. The hero will never have to see him again, and the villain will die here to make sure of it. The superhero has nothing.

“You’re such a piece of shit,” he continues, as if this is a new and particularly heartbreaking insult. “Tell me where they went.”

“Out, I’d presume.” The villain’s face twists into a snarl. “Do you really think we laid out exact plans in the middle of a prison break?”

The door squeals open behind the superhero, and he whips to the entrance with a growl before remembering himself. “What?” is the nicest tone he can manage.

“You, uh,” the guard starts uncertainly. She doesn’t look particularly happy to be the one bringing him news. “You might want to come see our… visitors.”

And with a bark of orders and a step of raw fury, the superhero is gone. The villain is left with only silence for company.

The silence only lasts for a couple of minutes. Gunfire, far off. Running footsteps. The villain swallows nervously and twists their hands testily in their cuffs.

They were prepared to die to keep the hero safe. Kind of. They wouldn’t have liked it, and they’d probably have embarrassed themself by going out crying and begging for mercy, but they would’ve died with the hero’s safety in their hands, and that’s all that would’ve mattered.

This, though. This isn’t the hero. A bullet plinks off the door loudly and the villain flinches. Gunfire sprays closer. They pull at the cuffs a little more desperately. Please, please, just break—

The door is flung open with a strong kick, smashing a hole into the opposite wall. A breath of a whimper escapes their mouth before they can think to stop it. They screw their eyes shut and wait for the feeling of the bullet searing through them. They’re trembling, but they can’t find it in their last moments to care.

There’s no feeling of metal tearing their flesh. No blinding flash of gunfire. Low voices exchange incoherent words. The villain doesn’t want to open their eyes in case the people here are cruelly waiting for them to face their killers. They can’t. They won’t.

Something touches their arm. They flinch a lot harder than they thought they could.

“[Villain],” says a familiar voice. Soft, worried. The touch on their arm solidifies into a gentle hand. “You’re safe now. You’re with us.”

The villain opens their eyes slowly, as if this is a trick they don’t trust. The hero throws them a lopsided smile, genuine and exhausted. This is definitely a trick. The hero isn’t stupid enough to come back.

That doesn’t mean the villain can take their eyes off them, though.

“Let’s get these cuffs off,” the hero continues after a moment. They set their gun on the table to root through their pocket.

“Yes, please get those things off,” says someone from the doorway. Also familiar, less tight than they recognise. “I would like to leave as soon as possible.”

The villain’s gaze snaps to the supervillain, lounging in the entrance with her own handgun pointed into the hallway beyond. The slightest hint of a smile sits at her lips, something the villain hasn’t seen in years.

The hero jabs the end of a knife into the villain’s cuffs, earning a second startled flinch. “Sorry,” they say shortly as the cuffs click open. “I don’t have the key. We’re mostly improvising.”

“You’re telling me,” the supervillain says with a huff of a laugh, and once the villain is on their feet she’s off ahead of them into the corridor.

“Are you okay?” the hero asks as they swipe the gun from the table and set off after her. “Did that bastard… do anything to you?”

Of course he did. That seems to be the superhero’s thing. They don’t want the hero to worry about them any more than they already have, though. The idiot came back.

So they give them a smile that’s blatantly, tragically forced, and simply say, “Nah.”

The hero clearly doesn’t believe that but they’ve no time to question it. The two of them follow the supervillain into the corridor. Round a corner. Up a flight of stairs. The supervillain shoots someone and the top and the villain hates that they flinch at the noise.

The main doors are so close. The three of them waste no time running across the foyer. Something clatters to the floor and the hero yelps. The supervillain and the villain turn to find the superhero behind them, an arm around the hero’s throat and a gun to their temple.

“Now,” he says. His breath is short, panting. “Let’s not be stupid here, hm? Anyone tries anything and I’ll blow their head off.”

The supervillain hesitates. The villain’s stomach clenches with familiar fear.

The superhero smiles, blood soaked into his teeth and staining his lips. “We’re all going to be good people and allow the law to win, aren’t we?”

The hero wriggles in vain in his grip. “[Superhero], please, you’re not—”

“Shut up,” the superhero spits. “I made you. You really think you’re better than me? You gave criminals information on us, you traitor.”

His grip on them tightens, delighting in the choked gasp that tears from their throat. He’s distracted.

The villain lurches for the supervillain, earning a surprised yelp and snatching the superhero’s attention. He turns his barrel on them but it doesn’t matter. The villain tucks the supervillain’s gun under their own chin.

“Let go of them,” they say fiercely, “or I swear to god I’ll fucking kill myself.”

The hero’s eyes are wide with horror. “[Villain], no—”

The superhero’s grip on them stops them. His own face is contorted like he’s nothing more than vaguely pissed off. “What do you think you’re doing?”

The villain’s hand is shaking. They can feel that this thing is loaded. Their finger is hovering precariously close to the trigger. “You need me,” they say like it’s obvious. “If I die, you’ll never figure out what all my paperwork says. I’ll die with all that information and you can’t do shit about it.”

The superhero scowls, kind of. It's a much more enraged expression than the villain can put a word to. His gaze flits obviously to the supervillain. “She won’t tell you shit,” the villain continues. “Less than I would, in fact.”

The superhero’s arm loosens slightly on the hero, the reality of his predicament clearly catching up to him. The hero is only looking more grieved by the second.

The villain meets their eye. They let their gaze flick down, hoping to convey a semblance of a plan, to the hero’s abandoned gun on the floor. Back up. The hero’s own gaze follows theirs, almost subdued, and nods ever-so-slightly.

Everything happens so fast. The villain tips their gun down to the superhero. He doesn’t have time to react before they set it off with a deafening clap. He shrieks as the bullet buries into his thigh. His grip on the hero loosens and they burst free from his hold. They scoop their own gun from the floor, kicking the superhero’s out of his hand.

The supervillain leaps forward to grab the superhero's gun before he can think to snatch it back, and suddenly he’s defenceless, surrounded by three armed people who hate him more than anything in the world.

No one needs to speak to know what the plan is. The superhero’s gaze snaps up at the loud click of a magazine disappearing into the hero’s gun.

A laugh bubbles out of his throat, the sound choked on fear. “[Hero], come on,” he says softly. “You’re not a killer. You’re better than that. You’re better than them.”

The hero glances to the them they’re supposedly better than—the supervillain, paralyzed by fear, scared for herself for also for her own; she who had leapt to her feet when the hero came to her with a way to fix things. She who grieved the whole way here that she couldn’t have saved more of those she cared about so much.

And the villain. The villain, who’d had a perfect opportunity to make themself something to the supervillain and let their humanity win. Who’d let the hero stay as a cruel joke and let them leave as a survivor. Who’d threatened their own life for the hero despite their terror of what lays on the other side.

The hero is no better than them. They don’t want to be.

The gun angles at the superhero in their hands. Defeat doesn’t even seem to cross his mind. Only painfully familiar frustration. “[Hero],” he says a little harsher. “Look at what they’ve made you into. You can be so much more than this.”

The hero sets their jaw and tilts their head up defiantly. “I don't want to be anything more.”

The gunshot rings in their ears. None of them have time to watch the superhero even drop to the floor. No time to mourn—no grace to even think about him. The hero is thankful for that as they burst through the front doors and into freedom. Freedom, freedom, freedom.

The supervillain, free to really grieve her losses. A new superhero will be put in his place, of course, but she can gather the villains around her and rebuild everything she’s lost.

The villain, free of the bindings of the superhero’s torture. Without the supervillain's fears hanging over them. Without their own.

And the hero. Free to live without their puppeteer tugging the strings. Finally free to live.

(last part!)

Taglist:

@runarelle @thiefofthecrowns @morning-star-whump @epiclamer @tekanparadiae @yourslimeologist @greengrassandflowers @subval01

#creative writing #writblr #writers on tumblr #writing #writing community #heroes and villains #hero x villain #the villains housekeeper #tw guns #tw death #WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO HOW WE FEELIN LADS #this is Technically The End but i aint DONE yall get an epilogue too #cause tbh ive kinda fallen in love with these losers the past couple months so i wanna give em a proper send off

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