#<- me physically recoiling whenever i think about him

[madaqueue]

stupid idiot. i want to ride him to tears

[alaskasmonsters]

Hola! Congratulations on 1k followers! The 2nd part of your Gojo writing was 🤌🤌🤌 chef's kiss!

If it's not taken could I please request a sanji drabble for the angst prompt "You're hands are shaking"? Idk why but I think that would be sooo suiting ^~^ if not that's obviously totally fine! Thank you so much, have a nice day, mwah!

𝖞𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝖍𝖆𝖓𝖉𝖘 𝖆𝖗𝖊 𝖘𝖍𝖆𝖐𝖎𝖓𝖌 (sanji)

pairing: sanji x gn!reader

content: fluff, angst-ish, trembling hands possibly caused by distress/anxiety (not disclosed), established relationship

a/n: uHm?!? no one is as surprised as me for posting this i literally just sat down and wrote this like an hour ago or sth i am being so fr? idk what has come over me. anon?? idk if you’re still here and ik it’s been a year like lITERALLY but?? hope you like it?? ig?? anyways sanji is the loml and i think he is so cuute and he has lots of trauma to work through.

☁️1k follower event (open)

Your eyes softened as they fell upon Sanji's frame, slightly hunched over the sink, shoulders rounded as he leaned forwards slightly to wash the dishes. You hadn't noticed before, too caught up in your irritation with him as a person (Sanji sometimes did that to you) and with his earlier persistance during the physical altercation you have had with another pirate crew to throw himself in front of you whenever someone dared as much as look in your direction.

He was so overprotective sometimes and it annoyed you. It also led to you scolding him about it and throwing petty retords at him whenever the opportunity presented itself, which you had been about to do before you noticed that something was off.

The words died on your lips then, and your irritation disappeared as quickly as it had taken hold of your body before.

"Sanji," you called softly, eyebrows bunching together as you narrow your eyes slightly in an attempt to take a closer look at his hands.

He didn't react and that was weird, because Sanji always reacted to you calling his name or attempting to draw his attention to you in any other way. Usually he perked up like a fucking dog whenever you just entered a room.

You took a step closer, frowning as calling his name again didn't show any differeng result. Carefully you reach out and grab his wrist and almost recoiled by how violently he flinched from your sudden touch and the way his unfocused eyes snapped towards you.

When he saw it was only you his body relaxed again.

“Y/n…”

“Your hands are shaking.”

He stared at you for a moment, not understanding or comprehending your words before he blinked quickly, eyes darting down to his hands and the trembling plate he was holding and that he had been attempting to clean for the past 5 minutes.

“Oh, yeah I…” He trailed off, leaving the rest of the sentence empty.

You sighed softly and reached out to take the plate and the sponge from him, softly nudging him with your hip to step back and let you take over. He did, watching you with his hands still half raised in the air, looking disoriented.

You finished the plate and the rest of the dishes in silence, giving him a moment to come back to himself. When you dried your hands he was still standing right behind you, looking at you, so you took the towel you had just used and turned back to him. Carefully, you grasped one of his hands and started drying it.

"You're an idiot."

Sanji grimaced at your remark.

“You don’t have to-“

“I want to.” You interrupted him, causing him to shut his mouth again. “I’ll dry your hands and then I’ll help you sit down.”

“I’m fine.”

“Sanji, you’ll sit down and you will sit until your hands stop shaking.” You peered up at him, pinning him with your gaze as you squeezed his hands. “Cool?”

He nodded, not wanting to argue with you. Instead he just lowered his head, shoulders relaxing as he let out a sigh. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” you mumbled and lifted his hands up to your lips to leave a kiss on the back of each of them.

His lips twitched, smiling softly at that.

[fuxuannie]

This is honestly my first time requesting anything so I'm kinda nervous ngl lol.

May I request some HCs with Dan Heng, Jing Yuan and/or Blade with a GN Reader who dislikes physical touches? As in, if someone hugs them and grabs their arm they recoil as fast as they can because they're uncomfortable? And will only be okay with physical affection when it's needed or if it's their partner?

Thank you for possibly considering this request, and have a good day or night :)

* pairing(s) : various hsr men (4) x gender neutral reader

* prompt : request ♡

* authors note : this request is SO me-core, as someone who's horrible with physical touch, i think im the best candidate for this /j thank you for the req and i'm honored im your first! this is really messy, im sorry T.T

DAN HENG was one of the first people to notice your discomfort with physical touch when you joined the Astral Express. March 7th tried to cling onto you, but instinctively you moved out of her way. (and admittedly almost made her stumble and fall doing so.) Profusely apologizing for that little accident, but you never really let people hold onto you.

So when you two got together, Dan Heng was pleasantly surprised with how clingy you really were. Whenever he was working in the Archives, the arms wrapping his waist and leaning on his back couldn't have been anyone else, he didn't wanna ask or point it out, just incase you would've been embarrassed or awkward about it.

Not only giving, but receiving. You used to refuse any form of physical touch but now the way he holds you in his arms is a blessing. You fit so perfectly, like you were meant for him, and he's so glad that you are. He helped you learn to love touch, and you helped him realize he loved to touch.

"I'll be there after work, I promise." You remember JING YUAN saying, and you told yourself you could survive a few hours waiting for him. So there you waited patiently, sitting alone on one of the outdoor tables by the restaurant you planned the date on.

It was almost time for him to arrive, and you were just happy you'd be seeing him soon, but you hear a throat clear behind you. You put your left arm by the back of your seat and turn around. "Hello there!" The man asked, a friendly smile on his face but something felt odd about it. A sixth sense intuition that somehow he didn't have the best intentions.

"You seem to be alone," Oh no. "I can give you a much better time." You force a laugh, flicking your wrist while doing so. "It's quite alright, he'll be arriving any minute now." And that seems to annoy the man, his kindness running thin. "Listen, he's clearly not interested-"

His hand goes up to grab your arm on the chair, but in one swift movement, you stand up and pull away. "Please. Do not touch me so casually." You say sternly, sending a glare towards the stranger. But the familiar feeling of a hand around your waist calms you down, you look at your boyfriend, who looks back at you apologetically. The man had long left, realizing who he may or may not have pissed off.

"I'm sorry I couldn't have arrived sooner." He says with a tired sigh. "It's alright, I'm glad you're here."

BLADE doesn't exactly care nor mind, he wasn't much of a touchy person either. But he'll do the little things like locking arms or letting you hold onto him.

He will get annoyed and maybe even confront people when it comes to situations where he feels like he has to. His mere glare can send people off running, so you're greatful to have him around.

You did like it when he'd hug you or hold you. It was rare, but when he let himself rest for a few hours, you're his personal pillow for that time period.

Kafka would mess with him every once in a while, touching your arm and making you feel ever so slightly awkward and the glare Blade gives would scare any ordinary person. She loves the reaction she gets out of him, seeing you get pulled away and his hands on your waist posessively.

"CAELUS, wait-" March 7th and Dan Heng tried to stop him, but suddenly the trailblazer walks up to you and wraps his arms around your figure. The other two expected you two slap him in the face, or something to push him away, but the way you payed no notice to the way he holds onto you surprises them.

"Whaaat..??"

"Oh! Right, this is my partner. Hehe." He'd snicker, already seeing March 7th's absolutely baffled expression. "You have a PARTNER??? AND IT'S (name)?!"

You're known in the Station for being a researcher who despised being touched, most people knew how passive aggressive you'd get depending on how you were touched, and the intentions behind it. "I'm the one exception to that whole thingy they have, I'm just really special." Caelus sparkled in pride, before clearing your throat. "You're about to lose that privilege if you don't let me go and look at some papers."

Caelus apologizes, pulling away as you huff. "Thank you." And you return to your work.

"I still can't believe Caelus pulls.."

"What in the GALAXY is that supposed to mean?!"

[vandme12]

Hii friend! I just had the idea of maybe Ronin x Cold!Reader, as in, reader is always extremely cold with their hands/feet and basically just a living icecube, so i was wondering how Ronin would handle that? >< Have a nice day ♥

Cold to the Touch

Ronin needs touch. Craves it. Desperately.

Not that he’d ever say it out loud, but it’s obvious in the way he lingers when you’re close, how he gravitates toward you like a moth to a flame.

Only, the flame’s fucking frozen.

Literally.

“Jesus Christ, sweetheart,” he hisses, jerking back instinctively when your fingers brush against his wrist. He swears his skin just flash-froze. “Are you part corpse? What the fuck?”

You blink at him, unimpressed. “I told you I was cold.”

“Yeah, but I thought you meant cold, not—” He gestures at your hand like it’s a fucking cursed artifact. “—whatever the hell this is. Are you actually alive?”

You shrug. “Depends on your definition.”

Ronin groans, dramatically dragging a hand down his face. “You’re killing me.”

And yet.

And yet.

The second you move to pull your hand back, he grabs your wrist, ignoring the way his entire body shudders at the sheer fucking freezing temperature of your skin.

You arch a brow. “Didn’t you just—”

“Shut up,” he mutters, pulling you closer despite the chill seeping into his bones. “I’ll get used to it.”

You doubt that.

But it doesn’t stop him.

Ronin suffers through it—through the way your icy hands press against his too-warm skin, how your feet are actual blocks of ice whenever they brush against his legs. He grits his teeth, refuses to flinch, forces himself to sink into your touch even though it feels like frostbite sinking into his goddamn soul.

And when you call him out on it?

“Oh, what? You think I’m gonna let a little cold stop me?” His grin is all sharp teeth and defiance, even as he visibly shivers. “Babe, I’ve waded through actual rivers of blood. You think your little ice cube hands are gonna break me?”

You don’t respond.

You just press your freezing fingers against the back of his neck.

Ronin howls.

“You little shit!”

“Jesus, sweetheart, you got frostbite or somethin’?” He grabbed your wrist, scowling. “What the fuck?”

You just blinked at him. Unbothered. “I run cold.”

“Cold?” He pressed your palm against his cheek and physically recoiled. “Babe, you run sub-zero.”

That was the beginning of his suffering.

Because as much as he bitched about it, as much as he acted so damn put-upon every time your ice-cube hands found their way under his shirt, or your frozen feet brushed his legs under the covers—he never actually stopped you.

No matter how much he complained.

(And oh, did he complain.)

“Why do I feel like I’m sleepin’ next to a corpse—”

“You know, if I were dead, I wouldn’t be this cold.”

“Not helping, sweetheart.”

Or:

“—SHIT, woman—” He nearly jumps out of his own skin as your fingers slip under his hoodie. “Are you TRYIN’ to kill me?”

“I thought you liked being touched.”

“Not by the f*ckin’ spirit of the Arctic—”

Yet, despite all of that?

He never pulls away.

Because even though you're cold, you're his.

And if anyone’s gonna suffer your icy touch, it’s gonna be him.

(And only him.)

No matter how much he gripes, no matter how much he pretends to be miserable—he wouldn’t change a thing.

Because you’re cold.

And he?

He’ll burn for you.

[astraystayyh]

You and I

In which you wrongly lash out at Hyunjin and have to mend it back. Human character who makes mistakes and apologizes for them.

You've always envied the people who seek others' warmth when they are feeling down. They seem to become almost translucent, allowing their sadness to seep away from them as their loved one comforts them- as their words and touch wrap around them, leaving no room for sadness or anger to exist anymore.

You, however, are quite the opposite.

Whenever an emotion overwhelms you, you instantly withdraw yourself, refusing for anyone to approach you. You can't let anyone touch you or talk to you, not when the feel of your clothes against your skin irritates you, and you swear you can hear the sound of each blood droplet rushing through your veins, unbearably loud.

Hyunjin doesn't know this.

How could he know? How do you tell someone you've been dating for one month that something as simple as regulating your emotions drains you? That you need to hide, for a couple of hours, sometimes days, just to feel a semblance of normalcy again.

So, you kept it hidden, trying your best to still your feelings; akin to the surface of an undisturbed river. It was easy to do so when being with Hyunjin brought you immense joy. It almost lulled you into thinking that you'd stay this way forever- happy, content. But you are human, and you can't escape the very essence of it- emotions in their rawest form.

You wish you could have told him- that you'd prefer being alone and that you'd talk to him when you're feeling well again. But it isn't time for regrets now. Not when the thoughts in your head swirl chaotically, making the world around you blur. You're overwhelmed, by your studies and a voice in your head that never truly quits down. And you can feel Hyunjin looking at you from the corner of your eye.

He's been worried about you all night, asking you if you were okay and if there was something he could do to help. But every question seemed to drive you over the edge, pushing you closer and closer to the brink of exploding.

"Baby, are you sure there is nothing I can do?" he asks for the umpteenth time, placing a hand on your shoulder. His concern is evident, stemming from a genuine place of care. And you want to slap a hand on your mouth to stop the words from tumbling out, but you don't.

"You know what I need Hyunjin? For you to leave me alone. Is that so hard to understand for you?" you question, looking straight ahead. You sense him physically recoil at your words, hand swiftly retracting back near his side. "I already told you what to do, and you're just making it worse. I can't deal with this right now."

A low chuckle emanates from him, it sounds cold and distant- nothing like you've ever heard from Hyunjin.

"Deal with this? You mean, deal with me?" he stands up abruptly, hand running angrily through his hair. "You know what? You've made it abundantly clear what you needed from me. I'm just fucking stupid for being worried." He grabs his jacket, as his words pierce you like a bow shot by Achilles himself.

Really now? You brought this on yourself and now you're feeling sad? Did you expect him to apologize, beg for you? The voice in your head taunts you and your own gets caught in your throat. 'Im sorry, stay, I didn't mean to lash out' You want to plead, but you remain silent as if someone's robbed you of your ability to speak.

"I'm sorry for making it worse for you, you don't have to worry about it ever again," he sounds angry, but you can sense the underlying sadness in his words. Your eyes meet his and the look on his face tears you apart. You've never seen him so... stricken, so severely affected; by your own doing none the less.

Hyunjin slams the door behind him, as an ugly sob escapes your lips. You've hurt him, badly, you aren't sure how to fix it when you can't even fix yourself.

....

Two days have passed. Forty-eight hours of trying to sort out your thoughts, only to have them tangled even further. The reason why you were overwhelmed in the first place fades into the back of your mind. The only thing you could think of was Hyunjin.

He hadn't called or texted, not that you expected him to. He said you didn't have to worry about it anymore, so he's giving you space, lots of space at that. Isn't that what you wanted? It was, but not like this. Not at the expense of hurting him.

You look absolutely disheveled as you knock on Hyunjin's door. It's 5:47 pm, an odd time for reconciliation, at least that's what you hope will happen as Hyunjin opens the door.

He's seemingly taken aback at the sight of you. His eyes swiftly narrow, and you take an unconscious step back at the animosity in his gaze. "What do you want?"

"Can we talk, please?"

Hyunjin scrutinizes you for a moment, his expression guarded. He looks far better than you, but there are newfound dark circles under his eyes. You hope you aren't the cause behind him.

"Come in," he steps away and you enter, uncertainty hanging over the both of you like a heavy fog.

Hyunjin settles on the couch but you remain standing, pacing back and forth as you try to organize your thoughts. Everything you wanted to say seemingly vanished you when you needed it most.

"Sit down. You're making me dizzy," he finally says, rubbing his eyes tiredly. You oblige quickly, heels now tapping furiously on the ground.

"Would you like some water?" he asks after a while, and there is a timid softness in his words, one you clung to so you'd be able to breathe again.

"No, thank you." You lick your lips nervously. "Hyunjin, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have talked to you that way. I was mean and rude and I understand that I had hurt you. But it wasn't my intention. It's never ever my intention to hurt you. I care about you too much for that."

"People you care about shouldn't make things worse for you," he points out, refusing to meet your gaze.

"You aren't... I mean, it's not you. It's me."

"Really?" he arches an eyebrow at the stereotypical sentence and you groan, frustrated at your inability to articulate your regret properly.

"Look, I got overwhelmed and when I'm like this, I need to stay alone. It has nothing to do with you, or how I feel for you. And I feel for you a lot, and I'm so scared I'll lose you and I can't seem to speak well-" tears trail down your cheek and you wipe them away angrily. You brought this on yourself, you shouldn't cry on top of it.

"I'm so sorry, immensely sorry, Hyunjin. if you still want me, I promise you I will never do this again. I won't lash out at you, you don't deserve that and it was uncalled for. I'm really sorry."

His silence is deafening as you nervously pick at your cuticles, scratching them over and over in your anxiousness. Why isn't he saying anything?

"Okay, um..." you chuckle nervously, as the bulge in your throat threatens to swallow you whole. "I'll let you think of it. I'm so sorry again. And I'm sorry for coming before asking you if you were busy. I'm sorry to bother you and I'm- I'm sorry I'm this way." You hurriedly stand up, heading towards the door when a warm hand wraps around your wrist, stopping you in your tracks.

Hyunjin's arms circle your waist, his chin resting on your shoulder, anchoring you in place.

"When I'm sad or angry, being near you makes me feel better. It really does. I thought I could do the same for you. That's why I insisted on staying. But I shouldn't have. You and I are different, doesn't mean it's bad," he mumbles onto your neck, tightening his hold on you.

"You've hurt me a lot, but I forgive you because I want us to do better next time. No yelling. No harsh words, okay?"

"Okay. I'll do better. I'm so sorry. So sorry, Hyunjin, you have no idea."

"It's okay. We're good now."

"Really?" you turn around, clutching his arms tightly. "I'm so sorry."

"I forgive you, stop apologizing," he giggles softly, wiping away the tears trailing down your face.

"I'm sorry, I swear I won't do it again," you apologize again, burying your face in his chest. your tears dampen his shirt but you can't move away. Not that you could in the first place, since his hold on you only tightens further.

"I believe you. Stop crying, please."

"Okay, I'm sorry. God, I'm sorry for saying sorry."

"Shh, baby. No more crying. I missed you," Hyunjin admits softly, placing a gentle kiss on the top of your head.

"I missed you so much more. More than you know."

"Maybe we should start telling each other exactly how much, hm? Not leave it up to imagination."

"Okay, I will. I want to work on this with you. If you want."

"I want to. Couldn't sleep without you."

"I'm so sorry," it slips from your mouth before you can stop it, guilt overflowing from you in waves.

"I thought I told you to stop apologizing, hm?" he questions as he picks you up and spins you around, as a laugh escapes your lips, morphing into full-blown giggles. It is only when a genuine smile graces your lips that Hyunjin puts you down once again.

[cs-fox]

LOST AND FOUND | SOAP MACTAVISH X FEM! READER

dude....

had to do this man.

i speak Scots Gaelic of course i had to 😋😋

warnings: angst. and TOOTH. ROTTING. FLUFF.

tw: ⚠SELF HARM ⚠ this is a bit of a trauma dump for me.

only a short 1 this time

______________________________________________________________

Cold. Cold. Freezing sea wind blew through the prison complex. It was situated on a craggy, desolate island, surrounded by ocean for five kilometres on every side, often pounded by a thick mix of sleet and rain.

Your cell was concrete-walled on three sides, completely sealed, but the bars criscrossing the “door” - they allowed a whisper of a bone-chilling, damp zephyr to rattle you to your core.

You’d given up hope two years ago; nobody was coming to get you. Your life had narrowed down from living to simply just surviving, and from there, every second becoming an effort to keep your legs holding you up as you paced, slowly losing your old self.

For, once - you’d been a soldier. The pride of your task-force, but you couldn’t think about them without thinking about him, and allowing Sergeant MacTavish into your mind was simply out of the question.

As you stood with your back against the wall, you studied your arms with a kind of empty abandon. They had once been tanned and strong, but now they were pale and thin. The only thing that hadn’t changed were the scars.

It had been so long since your face had displayed any sort of emotion, so you didn’t wince, didn’t recoil, at the memory of your childhood - problem, you thought with a sickening, dry laugh.

Your mother had scolded you for the cuts being “ugly”, your father beleived you were breaking his trust, his faith, and had shouted at you every time you couldn’t stay clean.

But even now, the thin, puckered white lines stood out against your wan skin, seeming to glow in the dark. 

At least they had stopped dragging you in for questioning. You didn’t know if you could even resist any more, you’d lost all of your will to live after their torture tactics… sometimes you thought those scars would affect you more than physical cuts ever could.

Soap’s POV

Their boat bounced over the waves, bringing the task-force 141 ever closer to that damned island. Soap gazed up from the rudder, one hand on the steering, the other resting calmly on his rifle. 

He then turned his eyes to the three other men alongside him, meeting all of their eyes one by one. The location of this island had been hard to find, but somehow, Laswell had managed it, after almost two years of waiting. A vaguely sick feeling had started to rise in Soap MacTavish’s stomach; he’d seen far too many times what had happened to prisoners of war before. Their sunken, dead eyes, their thin frames and empty faces.

He feared the worst for his lieutenant - the lieutenant he’d lost so many days ago, the woman he’d - he might just have fallen in love with.

He remembered vividly the nights you now refused to think about, spent in his quarters, your soft, uneven breaths as he held you underneath him. He remembered the hands that he’d been forced to think about whenever he undressed, wishing it was you who had your fingers hooked in the belt loops of his jeans, you who twisted your hand in his shirt.

A soft sigh escaped Soap’s lips.

He knew you wouldn’t be the same, perhaps you’d be broken beyond repair. But he would fix you. He would bring his girl home, even if it killed him. 

Mo leannan.

My love.

Finally, the vessel bumped into the rocky island’s shore. A high-walled complex rose in the foggy, dark 0400 sky, blotting out the horizon, and making Sergeant MacTavish shiver.

He tamped down any qualms and turned to his Captain, Price, who had already stepped ashore.

Soap dismounted from the boat, the rain that had been pounding the four men only continuing it’s onslaught, soaking them to the bone. 

The assault rifle that was resting beside him now took it’s place on the sergeant’s shoulder, as he stood in front of John Price, his mind spinning at a million miles an hour. He was going to see his girl again - but what scared him the most was the prospect of finding you - then losing you immediately again.

One breath at a time, MacTavish, he told himself.

[ timeskip because that’s legal here and i’m lazy ]

Her eyes were still beautiful.

That was the only thought in Soap’s head as their helicopter touched down, finally, back at their barracks. She still carried herself with that unwavering confidence he remembered from her days in the military, as his Lieutenant. Despite her arms being pale and wan, along with her thin frame, a quarter of that formerly strong, tanned, beautiful body he loved so much, he still found her breathtaking.

He didn’t care what his teammates thought as he helped her off the chopper, his hands finding the small of her back, supporting her weight.

She exhaled softly. ‘Johnny…’ he perked up. This was the first thing she’d said since they exited the prison building, so he leaned in close. He wanted to hear everything.

‘Yeah?’ Soap whispered, his hand still holding her. ‘What is it, bonnie?’

She leaned into his touch.

‘I missed you.’

He let out a long breath. ‘I’m going to heal you, bonnie, I swear. You never deserved to go to that hell-hole, mo leannan, so I’m going to rip them limb from limb -’ my love.

Soap stopped himself, taking in a short breath. He couldn’t lose himself in front of her, not now.

‘I promise.’

Your POV

He’d been so good to you, for the past months. Maybe years. Or perhaps it was only a week.

You’d lost track of time recently.

Soap took you out into the sunshine often. The light had been a rare sort of delicacy in prison; having this much of something so warm and beautiful felt like a horrible sin.

For the first few nights, he’d fed you dinner. Not because you’d forgotten how to eat, but because he cared. The feeling of his hands gently tilting your chin to press a spoonful of rice, or a mouthful of steak, even a carefully-cut corner of buttered toast to your lips made you feel that little bit more like yourself every hour.

Even so, you still had relapses of your time. You’d collapse, crying silently, on his bed, knees drawn up to your chest. He’d sit with you, hands gently pulling you closer until you stopped. Soap didn’t speak - he didn’t need to. He simply lay there, with you, until you calmed down.

All of his teammates tried to help, as well. Kyle offered his relaxed, calm words, Price, his almost fatherly care. Simon Riley, your co-lieutenant, was a solid, dependable figure. Once, he came silently into your room, after a soft knock. In one hand was the leash attached to his K9, Riley - which he unclipped. The German shepherd bounded onto your bed and lay across your body. All you could give Simon was a grateful look - but he seemed content to watch on with eyes that were crinkled at the edges, signalling his fond expression.

Slowly, your team could see the old you coming back. Kylle caught you in the gym early one morning. Ghost saw you making a cup of tea when you emerged from Soap’s office, and the Scotsman himself often found you sitting outside - simply basking in the sunlight.

Over two years since your breakout, you had become your old self. Strong. Capable. Confident, but with that under-layer of hollowness that only made you more intimidating.

‘You’re stronger, bonnie,’ he whispered in your ear, pride in his voice, as you lay beside him one evening. 

‘Tch,’ you said softly. ‘You’re preening.’

‘That I am,’ he grinned, that thick deep accent never failing to make you smile.

You allowed yourself to lie back, onto his chest, which made him chuckle softly, his warm hand resting on the dip of your waist.

Your skin wasn’t so see-through anymore, your eyes were a little brighter.

‘Creepin’ Jesus, bonnie,’ he murmured, kissing your neck softly. ‘Ye’re still beautiful. Ye never weren’t.’

You smiled slightly, allowing him to continue the trail of kisses he was creating along your neck. ‘Mo leannan.’ My love,

Your pronunciation was a little off, your accent not quite right, but he gasped never-the-less.

‘You remembered, bonnie!’

You laughed, curling up beside him. A tiny flush crept across your cheeks.

‘How could I forget?’

[rivkadreamer]

Lonely Wanderer.

a/n: This took a little while, I kept going back and forth, I'm still trying to get a good hand at writing his personality. Anyways, enjoy your food.

Genre: Fluff, angst, Hurt/comfort(ish)

Warnings: Implied character death, not proof read

Summary: In which Wanderer muses how good it must be, this feeling called love.

Imagine Wanderer who's been longing for love for as long as he can remember.

Wanderer who different from what many people think, knows what is love and how to identify it.

He observed it as Kabukimono, in the way the father's of the blacksmith village carried their sons around their back, the way the mother's chastised their kids whenever they'd something dangerous, or in the way the uncle's would smuggle some sweets to their nieces behind the parents back, smiling sheepishly while petting their heads.

He envied it as Scaramouche. Envied the way groups of people would burst in laughter when they united after a tiring day of work, drinking away their hearts content. Envied the way people throw themselves in front of danger because of their companions, and in the way they would proudly boast about friendship, telling silly stories to each other about their mishaps as kids, laughing under their breaths while they teased each other.

And he craved it as Wanderer, in the way lovers would hold hands and walk together back home, in the way they'd whisper secrets into the night, promises with ardent devotion and smile knowingly at each other. Craved the way they'd kiss under the moonlight, hiding from everything else, and the world would be none the wiser.

He craved these connections in a way he would never admit, not even for himself. He wanted to experience it, if only for a moment. To have a taste of how it feels, even if this thought was a dangerous one for a being such as him.

And as he states his vain philosophy about how the sentiment is a hoax, as fake as the stars above, you are quick to raise an eyebrow, looking him dead in the eyes.

"And you really believe what you're saying? You don't really think that, do you?"

Wanderer does not know what caught him off guard first. Your voice or the fact that you seemingly could see right through him. It was the first time of many to come, where you stupefied him into utter silence. After a few minutes, Wanderer came back to reality to see you already staring at him, a knowing smirk on your face, as the face he was giving you made it clear that you caught him head handed on his petty little lies.

Damned be you.

Wanderer could feel himself physically recoil and turn around like a coward, spewing an insult he can't remember over his breath, then leave, running away from you.

Which brings him to the present moment, where he is once again running away from your stare as he is sitting his head on your lap. Only, this time he can't physically get out (that's what he tells you anyway, but you both know he could simply pull you away if Wanderer truly wished so).

"Hah, look into my eyes, you scaredy cat."

He couldn't, Wanderer had the impression he would go blind looking at you. So, so angel like you are, the rays of light shining upon you making you look completely ethereal on his eyes. Wanderer couldn't gaze upon you when you were this pretty. Not without losing some control of himself, anyways.

"The audacity to even utter those words. Do I have to remember you that you were the one who dragged me all the way over here?"

The small snort just bellow your breath, the way you covered your mouth to impede him to see the sure rapidly forming smile, everything you did was so lovely on his eyes.

"You and I know that if this was the case, I would've gone flying far away from you in some ditch quite a while ago."

"I just can't be bothered with you humans and your silly rituals. What is the point to come here and 'pass some time together' at all, if you won't even say anything?"

"You're not making any sense. Besides, it was you the one who said it was pathetic to make small talk just to fill up the silence."

The purple haired boy only clicked his tongue in faux distaste at that, his head moving to face you as soon as your hand cupped his cheek.

He didn't want to admit that he likes hearing you talk.

Wanderer knew exactly what the form of love was, having been chasing after it for so long, so desperately in all hundred of years he've been living on this cage masked as land. That's why he couldn't help but think, that as your soft lips touches his, you can only be love incarnate. That you're love itself.

He knows it, he feels it.

Felt in the way you called for his name, the name you gave to him. Felt in the way you'd kiss him so delicately, as if he would break, as if he was fragile. In the way you'd hold him under the warm beams of the sun, close to your chest, and let him hear your heartbeat. Or in the way you would brush off his hair out of his forehead, tracing imaginary letters and circles on his skin when you thought he was asleep. Felt the way you yearned for him, and he couldn't say it didn't felt like he was waiting for you his whole life.

But he was, even if he didn't know it before.

Because Wanderer craves love,

And you are love.

Therefore Wanderer craves you,

Wanderer loves you.

So he prays, for the first time. To any entity, to any god above. He prays and begs that you'd stay by his side just a little longer, just a little further. That your time with him wouldn't be over yet. He doesn't want this ephemeral moments with you to ever end. When he's with you, it feels like time is akin a butterfly with fluttering wings, something that can slip away from his grasp at any given time. It's wings so fragile, they can torn and break like glass cracking as soon as it hits the ground, quickly followed by it's own pieces scattering all over the place.

"Please." He pleads to no one in particular, holding your body close to his, grounding himself in the warmth that still emanates from your lying form, the fragile look on his clear amethyst eyes almost seems to be shivering, his voice betraying his emotions.

"Just a while longer. Just a bit more." He whispers reverently, feverishly trying to avoid the inevitable. If before he couldn't look at you up close because of how bright you were, now he can't rip his eyes away, trying to protect the trembling light between his fingertips.

"Don't go, never leave. Stay here, love."

[@rivkadreamer on Tumblr, please do not steal my works.]

[kazucee]

MY NAME LIKE VELVET ON YOUR TONGUE !

pairings: [MARAUDERS] Remus Lupin x Sirius Black!

note: Merry Christmas wolfstar truthers, this is my gift to you! i missed writing about wolfstar so much and I had to make it everyone else's problem. A collection of fluffy moments where Remus is just down bad and Sirius is 'oblivious'. This was not proofread at all so I apologize if you find any mistakes! wc: 4.2k (never underestimate how much I can yap about them)

synopsis: Remus never liked his name, he always thought it sounded odd and bland. That all changed when he met Sirius Orion Black, a chaotic, mischief making boy with a smile that made him question every foundation of his character. Remus never liked his name, the only exception being when Sirius says it.

"Sirius Orion Black" the young lad introduced himself with a certain charisma, a certain aura that seemed to punctuate and bleed out of each posh syllable that slipped out of his mouth. This was the first time Remus had ever seen such pretty and well-kept hair, it made him uncomfortable and suddenly he found himself tongue-tied, deciding to remain mute as his newly acquired friends—James and Peter followed up with their own self-introductions. The lad looked at him with a raised brow seeing as he was the only one who hadn't spoken.

"And you?" It wasn't a question, more like a polite demand, an unconscious slip-up that originated from blood heritage, old money, unwanted piano lessons, perfect images and broken family lines. Remus could almost see the way this boy—Sirius, physically recoiled from the tone he had used.

"What's your name?" It came out a bit softer this time, tentative, as if tasting the way those words molded with that tone. Remus had to fight back the urge to deck him across the face.

"Remus. John. Lupin." his voice came out scratchy and rough and he hated how it sounded compared to his.

"Sirius Orion Black" James Potter yells, brows furrowed in mild contempt from across the hallway with his multicoloured locks that had just shifted to orange. The charismatic boy simply lets out a chuckle as he hides behind the conveniently placed taller man in front of him, something he seemed to do a lot whenever Remus was around. "Remus, don't you think he'd make a wonderful redhead?" Sirius snickers as he sees James heading towards the two of them, his almond eyes furious.

"Debatable." The taller boy hums, his attention split between the way Sirius was lightly clutching on his robes and the herbology readings he was trying to focus on.

"Remus John Lupin" he shifted his gaze from the book to meet those blueish-grey eyes, like the calm before a raging storm, the waves just before they take you under. Sirius had a habit of saying his full name to get Remus' attention, the other boy hadn't the faintest clue why but he won't deny that he didn't look forward to hearing the other say his name in that faint posh accent of his he tries desperately to hide.

"Moony, you truly couldn't spare me a second of your time?" A pout, a scrunch of a well-defined brow and Remus felt his heart sigh pathetically as he watched his hand betray him by tucking the Herbology text away to give the other the attention he so desperately needed (he had always had it.)

"Sirius Orion Black with the magnificent save" Usually Remus didn't care for Quidditch, he didn't care at all, he actually would rather be inside the Gryffindor common room with his books and the warm fire, not out here where the bite of winter left his throat oddly parched and nose in the perpetual state of runny. But then there he was, the star player of team Gryffindor. People would argue that that position is tailored for James Potter but Remus thinks otherwise.

There are people who shine brightly on the playing field and Remus would admit that James qualified perfectly for that—akin to the sun.

Stars however don't shine, they twinkle, pretty if you observe them enough but usually overlooked in favour of the moon.

His movements like quicksilver, Sirius easily beats the ball in the other direction without so much as a small taunting grin that makes Remus stare and stare and— it throws the entire offence side of Team Slytherin off balance momentarily allowing James to score another goal. The crowd cheers as Gryffindor finally secures a win, over the chorus of all the drums and trumpets and obnoxious screaming Remus caught Sirius patting James on the back. He was smiling again.

He didn't look away when their eyes met. Sirius flew down towards the bleachers fluidly maneuvering the broom as if he was made to be on it. His hair was a mess, thrown haphazardly into a half-moon hairstyle and Remus found himself resisting the urge to run his fingers through it. Sirius always had that specific effect on people, it wasn't just Remus. Can the boy be blamed if those ebony locks truly looked as if they were spun by the night sky?

"better than reading your boring books ain't it moony?" His voice snapped Remus out of his daze, it took all his willpower to hold his hand back, clenching his fingers into a fist as he shoved it into the pockets of his robes suddenly feeling cold despite having knitted gloves on.

“You missed that one bludger" Remus replied with a bored expression but anyone could see the way those eyes the shade of aged leather sparkled with admiration for the man in front of him.

"There's no pleasing you" Sirius groans dramatically, rolling his eyes but Remus didn't miss the small quirk of his lips into that nearly there smile.

"There's a lot of ways to please me" He finds himself saying with a shrug as he stood from his place on the bleachers,

Sirius was still on the broom in a position that no sane person would try to do. He could see the way Sirius paused in his movement on the broom, eyes meeting his again, the winter air felt a bit more warm.

"Noted." Sirius snorts as he floats a bit closer and for a moment Remus lets himself imagine.

The ebony-haired boy suddenly grins, flicks the skin between his eyes and shoots up with his broom, joining James and the Gryffindor team for a photograph. Fixing his hair as he smiles that Godforsaken Sirius Black smile.

Remus blinks. Sighs. Picks up his books and calms his beating heart.

“Moony”

“Moony”

“Mooonnn-”

“Oh for Merlin's sake, Sirius Black” Remus found himself groaning aloud as the man finally ceased his unwanted whines.

It was snowing harder to the point where even the all-mighty cannot be touched Sirius Black decided his talents were best spent indoors…annoying the wits out of Remus. At first, he let it slide as it was simply harmless spells being cast, a couple of pens levitated overhead, the occasional snicker that Remus would always find himself straining his ears to listen in to, the faint humming of a random tune that often had Remus rereading the same paragraph again and again.

That was until Sirius decided that Remus was far more interesting than measly levitation spells or stacking cards and unfortunately took the liberty of sitting dangerously close by and calling his nickname to get his attention.

“Sorry,” The ebony-haired boy says, tone apologetic but his grin is anything but. Remus gave a bemused glance, sparing himself from another round of whining he cleverly put his charms textbook aside.

“Fine, you win. You have my attention, what do you want.” He said rather bluntly trying to ignore the way the other looked at him like he was some sort of constellation Sirius was trying to figure out the name of (quite ridiculous considering that he knows for a fact that Sirius is updated with all the different constellations in the sky, charting stars despite claiming that astronomy was for losers.)

“Well technically I really did only want your attention” There it was, that Cheshire grin full of mischief and an underlying emotion that Remus could not for the life of him determine. His stare stayed the same, bemused, but for a brief second they wandered down somewhere other than Sirius’ twinkling grey eyes, he mentally steeled himself.

“I am picking up my charms textbook again” The brush of a hand, it wasn't his own. Sirius had reached over, taking Remus’ scarred hand in his own to prevent him from picking up the textbook.

A collective intake of breaths.

A collective shockwave of electricity humming through their bones at the contact of skin on skin. Hand in hand.

Remus then realized not only was Sirius (too) close to him but that his eyes were such a pretty mirage of blue and grey under the soft winter lighting like starlight polishing platinum. His long lashes framing those starlit eyes, a girl's envy, heck even Remus found himself envious.

Oh God. Say something. Remus found himself thinking.

“Why are your hands so cold-”

“Ditching me for a charms book-”

It seems their trains of thought ran the same track only to collide painfully. The silence was thick and uncomfortable and Remus wanted any distraction at this point, anything to keep him from staring into Sirius' eyes because the feeling he got from doing so was going to gnaw at him from the inside out.

“My hands are that cold?” Sirius with the lightning recovery breaks the silence first and Remus finally shifts his gaze towards the pale digits that were wrapped around his own hand. He did have such nice hands. Defined bones with well-trimmed nails accompanied with chipped black nail polish and sloppily drawn star designs, it almost made Remus laugh.

“Like a block of ice.” He quipped after spending an embarrassingly long amount of time staring at the others hand.

“Rude.” Without looking he could already tell that those starlit eyes were narrowed, the mere thought making his lip twitch. “I think it has something to do with poor blood circulation” Remus says, his voice trying its best to sound aloof and uncaring.

He still hasn't let go.

He still hasn't let go.

“And your hand is warm,” Sirius remarked softly, fingers shifting slightly to caress one of the scars littered on tanned skin. Remus swallowed thickly at the sensation.

“I have good blood circulation” His voice was less aloof, less uncaring, he hated how it sounded compared to Sirius'. His heart pounded like a drum, he wondered if Sirius could hear the symphony he caused just from a simple touch, a simple caress.

“Are you seriously saying that your blood circulation is better than mine?”

Leave it to Sirius for ruining… well a serious moment.

“Are you serious?” Remus found himself saying out loud, his voice bewildered at the audacity of this man and his ability to make the most insignificant thing such as blood circulation a competition.

“Why yes, I am Sirius.”

Impossible. The only word first that could describe the grinning idiot in front of him.

“Sirius Orion Black!” a panicked whisper rang out making the paintings huff in mild annoyance. Remus frankly didn't care, not when his best friend was minutes away from getting caught by a prefect or even worse. Argus Filch.

The darkness of the castle's hallway was their only cover—well and the invisibility cloak James had lent them. But what use did the invisibility cloak serve if one keeps making it a point to waltz around like they own the place?

“You are going to get us caught-”

“Can you stop worrying for once moony?” Sirius quickly shot back as he turned the hall with practised ease like he had all the turns memorized. A highly likely situation given that he and James have been planning this prank for months. Multiple nights of Sirius sneaking into James' bed, the whispers before one of them finally casts an Imperturbable Charm.

Remus somehow always ended up roped into these things; he was quite certain it was because of James' annoying pestering and not a certain someone giving him those stupid puppy dog eyes.

“I'll stop worrying when we actually reach our destination without any problem. Something that won’t happen if you keep prancing around like a drunk on Christmas Eve.” Remus hissed out annoyed out of his mind, emphasizing the ‘prancing around’ part, the painting in the hall gave a few grunts of displeasure at the ruckus the two were causing.

“How many times must I repeat myself—we will be fine. Either way, if I get caught you won't be affected seeing as you're invisible” Sirius prattled on, abruptly facing Remus or at least where he thought Remus was situated.

Remus didn't have the heart to tell Sirius that he was actually not beside him but behind him. Well no—it was more like he found it amusing. Watching Sirius talk to thin air like he had gone mad. He took a moment to marvel at how terrible the other was when it came to pinpointing the source of his voice.

“and plus it's hot in the cloak” Sirius added with a huff and he sees him turn his face from ‘Remus’. That was a point Remus couldn't refute, after all, they weren't exactly children anymore. During their 1st and 2nd years all four of them could easily fit in the cloak, right now even with two people it felt cramped and Remus didn't want to imagine what it felt like being pressed close against Sirius shuffling around in the dark.

His cheeks felt warm and he immediately thought of something else. The silence continued. Sirius wandered the halls whilst Remus trailed behind him like a shadow.

If there was something Remus was sure about it was that Sirius couldn't bear the silence, always using that loud mouth of his to fill it with nonsensical rambles. Apparently sneaking around wasn't an exception to that endearing annoying trait of his.

“It would be hilarious to run into Minnie” Remus could almost hear Professor McGonagalls eye roll at the telltale nickname Sirius and James so graciously bestowed on her. “I also can't wait to see the look on snivellus’ face when-”

Remus heard it first and acted so quickly that he didn't have time to register it himself. The sound of footsteps, the tug of an arm, the small ‘oof’ sound Sirius let out when Remus pressed him against the wall effectively concealing them both under the invisibility cloak.

First, it was dark and only their breathing could be heard. Remus tried his best to look away from Sirius because only Godric Gryffindor himself knew how much self-control he had and how much he was willing to throw away just to—

Footsteps. Then the warm glow of a lantern. Filch appeared from the corner with Ms. Norris behind him, the beady-eyed cat let out a yowl almost as if it could sense the presence of two boys hiding in plain sight. Remus felt Sirius shift uncomfortably as if trying to put more space between them and failing to do so. The motion caused Remus to break that internal rule he placed in his mind(the‘don't-look-at-Sirius-when-he-is-dangerously-close-to-you-rule’)

‘Filch’ Sirius mouthed once the two made eye contact.

Remus had always been good at reading lips, and Sirius had always been good at enunciating his syllables. Something that Remus was made painfully aware of at this moment.

Their only source of light was the warm glow of the small lantern Filch carried in his hand; as he moved, the light would shift as well, perfectly highlighting all the sharp contours of Sirius’ face. Sirius and his stupidly good-looking face, with his stupid lips-

‘Remus’ Sirius looked alarmed

He tenses when he hears Mrs.Norris let out yet another meow, this time closer.

“What is it girl?” he hears Filch approach and his heart practically performs a whole gymnastics routine right then and there.

‘MOVE.’ Sirius’ eyes seem to say, wide with alarm as he grabs the wrist of Remus’ left hand, he could see the way those eyes frantically looked behind him in panic. Honestly, when it came to fight or flight situations Remus would choose neither as he believed in his capabilities of not getting into such predicaments. But he could hear Filch and Mrs. Norris getting closer by the minute. He grabs his wand quickly

Quietus.

He uttered the spell in his mind, he didn't think it'd work—he never tried mentally casting a spell but at this point he was desperate. There was a small tingle that ran through the entirety of his body before reaching the tip of his wand, the spell had been casted. His other arm circled easily around Sirius’ waist and Remus was rewarded with a small surprised squawk and with little to no effort he hoisted the other boy up, one arm hooked under his knees with the other supporting his back. He heard the cat hiss in contempt as he ran away, Sirius despite being stunned still managed to pin the invisibility cloak to them as Remus ran, he didn't stop till he was sure they were far away from Filch and Mrs. Norris.

“Remus. John. Lupin.” Sirius’ voice danced and coated every single syllable of his name with that honeyed posh accent of his but Remus could tell by the way it shook in the end that he was nervous (or ecstatic? You can never tell in Sirius' case)

He realized he was still carrying him. He didn't want to let go. His fingers twitch slightly under the weight of Sirius, he weighed nothing, or was Remus convincing himself of that because he wanted to hold the other close for just a moment longer.

He made a plan in his mind. It was simple really as it only required two steps.

If Sirius told him to set him down he would.

If Sirius doesn't then he won't.

He lets the silence ruminate for a bit, his earlier run turning into a slow easy pace.

Sirius is in his arms.

Sirius is in his arms.

Sirius is in his arms.

His heart was pounding hard. With how close Sirius was he was sure the other could feel it, feel it reverberating throughout every cavity of his being. He didn't think to reply back to him, just relishing in the way his name was said.

If Sirius had any plans on getting off he didn't make it known. It was only until they reached the Gryffindor common room with James' curious smile and Peter's half awake mumbles did Sirius react, shifting to get down. Remus let him, finding himself stupidly missing the weight.

“Sirius Orion Black what in Merlin's name are you doing?” Remus always had that one particular spot in the library, a spot that was hidden away from all the sounds of quills scribbling and soft murmurs of practice spells. When he wasn't running around with the Marauders or lounging at the Gryffindor common room he was found here.

“Joining you? To study?” Sirius replied casually, accentuating that point by slamming a tower of textbooks on the table making the library's noises pause for a bit, as if sensing a newcomer. Remus glared at him already feeling a headache forming, a very Sirius Black specific headache.

“You don't study” Remus eyed him quizzically, his ebony hair more ruffled and fussed through as he sat down next to him.

“I do!”

“No you don't.”

Silence. Remus was staring at him, head cradled against his palm. Sirius glanced at him then at the tower of books. Remus spotted a divination book as he read along the spines of the tower. “I thought you hated potions.” Remus remarked casually making Sirius flinch as if he had been caught, as if he had just coincidentally wandered into the library, grabbed whatever book he could find to add to the already accumulating pile of books, like he was looking for some kind of excuse.

“well yes…but you love potions don't you moony?” Sirius asks perfect brow arched. Remus huffs out a small snort leans against his seat and runs a hand through his messy brown locks. “Perchance. However Lily is way more brilliant-”

“Teach me,” Sirius proclaimed loudly in a haughty tone and his sudden skittish demeanour completely vanished. With eyes narrowed and lips pursed in contemplation Remus glanced at him then at his coursework that he had yet to finish.

“And what's in it for me?” He mused.

“You can't just do it because I'm your best friend? And the fact that I'll flunk out if I fail the next test?” Sirius says with a bruised expression, Remus rolls his eyes at the others wounded puppy look. He knew for a fact that Sirius—despite disliking a lot of subjects—actually has a natural talent for perfecting them. He also knew that Sirius studies just as hard as all of them but he keeps that mask of ‘i didn't study at all' whenever anyone would ask him. So he knew that Sirius couldn't possibly be failing potions, his pride and ego wouldn't allow it.

“... what's in it for me Black?” Remus repeated his tone amused. Amused in the way Sirius rolled his eyes and let out a small huff of annoyance. Remus liked it when he didn't give Sirius what he wanted right away, there's a certain appeal to it.

“I won't drag you out of bed for the next two Quidditch matches.” tempting. But Remus simply remained silent, brow raised.

“I'll stop charming your things to disappear and reappear in different places” Remus bristled.

“Wait so that's why my quills ended up under Pete's bed-”

“Anyways-”

“If you want me to even have you sit next to me, you'd stop that” He threatens pointing his quill at Sirius, his only response was a bright grin showing pearly white teeth.

“Oh I know ! How about I treat you and the guys to butterbeer in hogsmeade?” Sirius suggested, his eyes sparkling at the idea and it made Remus’ heart clench painfully.

Ah yes, the infamous Hogsmeade trip was coming up. To Remus' dismay both James and Sirius wouldn't take him wanting to cozy up in bed with a book as an answer. At the others expecting look he gives a small sigh, saying a small goodbye to his self respect and silently acquiesces.

“Pull out the Potions textbook- no not like that-” He quickly stops Sirius from recklessly toppling the entire tower of books onto both of them.

“Alright Professor Lupin. Let's begin.” a grin and a small shove from Remus and the two finally started on their lesson.

★

It didn't even surprise Remus anymore. The soft snores that are barely even noticeable unless you listen in carefully, ebony locks splayed messily across the mahogany table, coursework and textbooks surrounded a sleeping Sirius 'just a few minute break’ Black. The two worked for a decent hour and a half before Sirius kindly asked (pleaded) for a break then proceeded to nap for the next twenty or so minutes leaving Remus in silence again.

Saved for the small intakes of air. Remus shouldn't have found it distracting. But when he found himself messing up simple arithmetics because of it he promptly pushed away his coursework and buried his head in his arms, his mind letting out a silent scream.

He was sure Sirius had planned this the entire damned time. He always had a knack for distracting Remus at the worst possible moment. He lifted his head slightly leaning it so that his cheek was against his arm and that he had a clear view of Sirius sleeping face.

In the dim light of the library the strands of his hair appeared like spilled ink draping his pale face. Remus admired him for a small moment. He looked peaceful, his brow relaxed, chest rising and falling rhythmically. Remus admired all the features he never got to because of his strict ‘don't get too close’ policy when it came to Sirius. But sleeping Sirius was different from awake Sirius so Remus made exceptions.

He moved just a tad bit closer.

Sirius had clear skin; he wondered how soft it'd feel under his skin. There were a couple moles littered here and there, under his eye, on his jawline, one on the apple of his cheek. The most shocking discovery is the barely there scar located over his brow.

Remus’ traitorous hand moved first tracing the contours of Sirius' face, his touch light and fleeting, a hair's breadth away from the others skin. He swallowed thickly, feeling his heart rise from its place in his ribcage all the way to his throat. His hand pulled away only for it to land on the soft wisps of inky locks, he pushed it back tucking it behind Sirius' ear.

He really wanted to kiss him.

He might just do it.

He stares long and hard at the others slightly parted lips. It was unfair at how pleasant they looked, almost tempting him to seal them with his own, just an innocent peck would send him overboard—heck even imagining kissing his best friend was enough to muddle his mind.

He takes his hand away gently and as soon as he does a sort of longing hits him. Longing to card his hands through the others hair, to caress his cheeks, to map the location of all his moles and burn them into his memory, to find out the scars that marred his skin and to show him his own ones.

He leans in.

skin meets skin. Warmth steeped in warmth.

His lips brushed against the other's forehead for a brief moment before he pulled away. Those brief moments felt like eternity, a thousand heartbeats expressed in a simple innocent peck.

Remus pulled away. His cheeks prickled with heat as he focused his attention back on his arithmetic homework, making it a point not to look at Sirius or even think of Sirius.

He missed the smallest quirk of lips and the hammering pulse of the ‘sleeping’ wizard beside him.

Note: made it to the end? Have a cookie 🍪 the plot was non existent and I feel like I fudged up the pacing a bit TT? Can you tell I just wanted to write about the two of them TT (I might make this a mini series because I plan to write part two ! This time instead of names it's kisses mwhehehe so stay tuned for that one) 𐙚 reblogs, comments, and likes are always much appreciated.

The characters are from JK. Rowling's world, I don't associate myself with the author. © All rights reserved

Art: Anteyka (GUYS IF YOU KNOW THE ARTIST PLS DM ME. a Pinterest comment says it's them but I'm not 100% sure!)

[spxllcxstxr]

Take the Phone Off the Hook and Disappear for A While • G.H

(Gif not mine)

Request: request for a greg hirsch x reader comfort fic :) — anon

Summary: Comforting Greg after a long day at the office

Warnings: gn!reader, Greg being all cute, a little Tom slander?, this is just all fluffy honestly lmao

Word Count: 927

A.N: first time writing Greg! Hope you guys like it!

•

Your front door slams shut, ripping your focus away from your laptop screen. Heart hammering in your chest you whip around to see your boyfriend practically fuming at the ears.

"Well hello to you too, Gregory," You grumble, watching him angrily shrug off his suit jacket and toe off his leather shoes.

Greg turns to you, eyes narrowed.

"I--I think I'm going to fucking quit."

He fiddles with the gold watch on his wrist and your eyes widen at the admission.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Abruptly you rise from your seat, mouth agape.

"Tom is just..." He sighs aggressively. "He's just bordering on abusive...? Like I don't think I'm supposed to be getting shit thrown at me for not saying the right thing!" He waves his hands around as he talks before placing his watch and phone on a nearby countertop.

You recoil slightly. "Ok then...then I support you. Quit."

Greg swallows nervously, picking at his nails. He deflates slightly, anger dissipating slowly. "I'm not actually going quit, Y/n..."

"Well why not? You're literally being shit on by your boss!"

"You ever like--like seen The Sopranos?" Greg stutters, eyes shifting and hands rapidly waving at his sides.

"What, like they’d kill you if you left?" You ask, completely unconvinced.

"Fuck, like--I don't even know." Greg furrows his brow. "Maybe not physically but if Logan fucking Roy blacklists you, then you might as well be dead, right?"

He paces across your hardwood flooring, black socks padding lightly as he moves. You watch him bring a hand up to his mouth, biting at his fingernails and cuticles. He winces occasionally but doesn't stop.

"Greg, sweetheart..." You walk up to your lanky boyfriend, stopping him in his tracks and taking his hands in your own. His fingers twitch at their restraints, but he turns to nervously nibbling on his bottom lip. "Let's just relax, okay? Take your mind off of things. Work is done for the day, they can't call on you after hours."

“I don’t think that’s true at all.” Greg scoffs, blue eyes peering into yours. “Tom calls me whenever the hell he wants.”

“Well maybe Tom should spend more time with his wife and touch some grass.” You reply, rolling your eyes.

Delicately, you place a kiss on his soft lips before slowly pulling away.

“Now put your phone on silent and come cuddle on the couch with me.”

Greg blinks, unsure. His crisp white shirt is already untucked from his dress pants, watch placed on the counter next to his phone.

He stares blankly at it.

“Greg, honey, Tom can and will live without you for one night.” One of your hands reaches up to softly cup his cheek. A pink blush steadily rises up his neck. “I promise.”

"Alright, fine." He huffs, removing your hand from the side of his face before striding to his phone. "But if I get fired, my ass is sleeping on your couch." Greg lifts up his phone, dramatically flicking his ringer off to show you the proof.

"And my ass will be making your ass find a new job," You retort, already stretching across your old couch. The springs groan underneath the weight.

"I thought you loved me!" He gasps, jokingly offended. Greg comes into view and places a glass of water on the coffee table.

"I do love you, Gregory, but I don't make enough money to supply your new bougie tastes," You giggle as you stretch your arms out, hoping he gets the hint to come cuddle.

"Ah yes," Greg adds sarcastically, while placing his lanky body on top of yours. "what is love but conditional?"

You snort before he places a kiss to your lips. His head then settles on your torso, tension easing away from his form.

"Wanna watch something?"

"Maybe..." He mumbles into the fabric of your shirt.

You nod, letting the silence of the apartment mix with the busy sounds of the city outside. Sirens sound and people laugh and yell. Yet you and Greg soak it all in comfortably.

You know he's not going to stay awake for much longer.

Your fingers run through his soft dark hair, fingernails occasionally scraping against his scalp. Greg sighs contently, pressing his cheek harder against your belly. His eyes flutter shut.

His body drapes over you like a blanket--and warms you like one too. Between his body and the softness of your thrifted couch, you may just fall asleep.

Your eyelids droop just looking at your now peaceful boyfriend; how gently he inhales and exhales through his nose and how his fingers under your lower back would sometimes rub circles on you skin.

"You feelin' better sweetheart?" You ask lightly, hands still preoccupied with his hair.

Greg hums, squeezing your body tightly before relaxing once again.

"You're still in your dress shirt, you should go change before you fall asleep..." Though he's unable to see your face, you raise an eyebrow at his comfortable frame. Just hours earlier he was complaining about the scratchy material his formalwear was made out of, and now here he was, falling asleep in it.

Greg grumbles, continuing to melt into your body heat. His sock-clad feet dangle over the arm of the couch.

"Alright, Greg, just for five minutes..." You sigh, a small smile creeping over your face.

Tilting your head back against the arm of the couch you close your eyes.

Greg's breath evens out and his body presses a little harder on you just before you're able to drift to sleep; his phone long forgotten.

•

[starrycassi]

I'm back on my insomnia bullsit. I bring you:

Sevika and Viktor details + bit of backstory in the au where jayvik work for silco.

She never saw him as her son, neither did he as his mother. If anything, they are more of a lesbian butch aunt with gambling problems/gay smart-ass nephew with mental issues. However, she was the most "parental" one out of The Serpents (the way jinx calls Sevika, Silco and Singed. She giggles, elongating the "ssss" sound in their names when they're around)

She was the one to teach him how to properly shoot so the recoil wouldn't push him off his feet. He fell on his ass. Multiple times.

After the first time she caught wind of him sneaking a boy into his room (more like parading around) she dragged him into the brothel, locking him in a room and paid for one the girls to come explain what condoms are, their purpose and how to use one. He was already well-aware, so they skipped that and went straight to the most interesting tips the girl could give. He appreciated the gesture.

She trusts him enough to let him help with her prosthetic. Viktor rubs numbing cream into her arm whenever they can get a moment along, which actually made everyone think that they were a thing for a while. He found the rumors funny.

Neither one of them have ever gone through a bad breakup. They usually instigate each other on dumping their current partners for the sake of drama. Neither one of them has held monogamous, committed and respectful relationship for more than two months. Until Jayce, of course.

(I'm so sorry but there is no way Sevika is settling down she could cheat on me with the whole clientele of the last drop and I would apologize to her)

Once, a young and stupid Viktor tried to ask her if she was dating silco. It was one of the few times he saw her retch with disgust.

He sews up her stuff when it gets damaged, since she lacks dexterity. She beats the fuck up out of anyone who comes close to him, in return.

They smoke together often. Jayce is scandalized. Viktor knows that it's bad for his already fucked up lungs, but he's actually really addicted to it and can't just quit now. He's been perched at sevika's side for years, after all. It's a learned dependence.

He doesn't gamble as much as her, but can be lethal when they team up. He's amazing at any necessary mathematical analysis and she's better than him at reading people's faces.

Viktor knows that they will never be able to fully trust each other, but trusts her more than anyone else when it comes to having his back

He knows that she's aware of his dislike for silco and his methods. They often skirt around this topic, which is difficult when the man is literally their boss.

They have a ton of matching capes!! Viktor has cloaks and she has her one-shoulder ones. They tend to buy the fabric in bulk and get some of silco's lackeys to get them done. This wasn't relevant for either one of them at the start. That has changed over the years.

She's had to physically get him away from enraged people before to avoid his death. He refused to apologize. His sassyness is part of the deal.

(if Viktor were to ever marry Jayce like they do in the movies, the only person he can think of to walk him down the aisle or do any of that cheesy stuff, is her)

They often end up using the same eyeliner. Viktor owns more makeup than her.

Once, he started coughing blood. She hit him in the back so hard that it actually stopped the cough because his heart was too scared to keep him breathing for a second.

When they get drunk together, they'll adopt each other's accent and mix them in with their own (I hc sevika to have a slightly middle-eastern accent) and the standard bystander can NOT decipher what they're telling each other.

She once tried to use her arm as a betting chip. Viktor was the one to stop her. She snapped and hit him in the face, fucking his nose up even more. They don't talk about it.

She's actually rather happy that Jayce is part of their lives. She can FINALLY know that Viktor is in his bedroom and not someone else's at 3 fucking am. Which wouldn't be a problem if the kid was able to even run. But he can't. So she has to be concerned.

She's actually learned a bit of engineering and such from watching him work and listening to his ramblings. Viktor feels proud of this.

They WILL stare down someone they don't like. People crumble so quickly. Bitter bitch and her bitterest boy

[mrsamaroevans]

I Got You

Fandom: Mayans M.C.

Pairing: Miguel Galindo x Reader.

Request: No.

Words: 770.

Warnings: Murder. So… I needed to write this ‘cause the other day I needed to see gifs of Miguel on season 5 ‘cause he looks gorgeous (fight me) and I still have two episodes left from the show so… I got spoilered (idk if that’s actually a word lol). I needed to give him a different ending so… probably there are spoilers in this? I don’t know… just, read carefully if you haven’ finished the show yet. (I’m very offended, tbh).

A/N: Gif not mine!

|| MY MASTERLIST ||

“Put the gun down”

Your husband's eyes locked with yours. He had a face you couldn’t quite decipher; as if he was surprised but glad that you were there, but at the same time, fear crossed his gaze. The metal in your hands felt cold and wrong. It wasn’t the first time you held a gun, but it was the first time you were attempting to use it to hurt someone.

“(Y/n)…” His voice. That familiar voice. The voice that used to calm you down whenever you were about to cry. The voice from whom you heard the best bits of advice. The same voice that you thought you were gonna hear forever.

‘Cause he was supposed to be your family. He was supposed to be there for you, he was supposed to protect you and never hurt you.

But he was there… with a gun in hand aiming at your husband. But it was like he was aiming at you.

“Ezekiel… put the gun down,” you said again. Your voice almost trembled and that only made you angrier. Ez was in your house about to kill your husband and he looked relaxed. He seemed so calm even though he was there to hurt you. He didn’t seem nervous, or afraid “Put the gun fucking down!”

The gun touched the back of his head when you took a step closer to him. Ez put his hand down. His gun now facing the floor as he slowly started turning to you.

“What are you doing?” Ez asked you once he was facing you.

“I’m doing what you should have done when Angel asked you to stop this bullshit. I’m protecting my family” you told him, stepping back without lowering your hands “Drop it”

Ez didn’t do it “I’m your family”

“No” you shook your head “Miguel is my family. My son is my family… you’re not, at least not anymore”

“So… this is how it ends?” Ez asked after a few seconds of silence. He was there. The same tanned skin, the same eyes, the same Ez. But not really. It was like, physically Ezekiel Reyes was standing in the living room of your house, but if you looked deeply into his eyes… the one standing in front of you was a stranger.

“You tell me” It was unbelievable. All of it. One day you two were playing in the Reyes’ backyard and now you’re both with the chance of ending each other’s lives in your hands “Drop the gun, Ez”

“I feel like I don’t know you”

“You do” You looked at Miguel who seemed alerted and then looked at the gun Ez was holding. His hold became firmer and you knew in that moment he wasn’t going to back down “I always lived to serve my family, you know that”

“I don’t know you”

“It’s me the one that should be saying that” Your eyes filled with tears. It was him or you, there was no point in thinking there was another ending “Drop the gun” your voice came out as a whisper.

“I never stopped seeing you as my sister, you know?”

Your hold weakened and he took that moment to aim at you. Everything happened pretty fast; his arm going up, your finger in the trigger, your body jerking back with the recoil of your gun. When you realized what had happened, Ez’s body was on the floor, a big red mark around him.

You killed your best friend.

“Hey” You heard Miguel’s voice but you couldn’t look away from what you had done, so he took your chin and made you look at him.

“He was going to kill you” was the first thing you said. You felt tears in your cheeks not knowing when you started weeping “He was going to get kill everyone in the club, he was going to kill me…”

“I wouldn’t let that happen” he assured you “We’re you and I against it all, remember?”

You couldn’t nod ‘cause your crying didn’t let you. Your body started to shake as Miguel held you close. You buried your face on his chest, the blood on your face marked his shirt but he just held you tighter, as he could take all your pain to his own body.

“I want you to talk to me” Miguel whispered later that night. Your head on his chest, you could feel your hair a little wet still from the shower “Whenever you want or need to, okay?” His lips touched your head and that made you tear up again “’Cause I got you”

“I got you, too”

|| MY MASTERLIST ||

[manari-archives]

Read you Mind | MV1

To think that we could be casual You're not my friend And, baby, you never were Why the fuss if you say you just wanna be mine?

pairing: Max Verstappen x Reader

warnings: angry max ig, reference to a sexual relationship

word count: 1.8k

note: again this isn't based on the entire song, just a couple of lines of the song. also english isn't my first language so any corrections feel free to let me know and any feedback is welcome :)

masterlist

Max and you found yourselves entangled in each other's arms, a familiar situation after spending the night together. The warmth of your body contrasted with the unspoken emotions weighing heavily in the room. Max lay awake, contemplating the complexities of your relationship and the words he longed to express.

The morning light crept into the room, casting gentle rays on Max's face as he watched you sleep peacefully beside him. He marveled at your beauty, the way your hair fell softly across your cheek, and the rise and fall of your chest with each breath. But beneath the surface of your physical intimacy, Max felt an undeniable longing for something more.

As he traced the outline of your face with his fingertips, Max couldn't ignore the persistent ache in his heart. He had grown tired of the ambiguity that hung over your connection. It was time to address the unspoken tensions that had been brewing between you.

Breaking the silence, Max's voice finally emerged, tinged with frustration and longing. "You always say you need to be alone. But whenever we're together like this, it feels like you want more from me than just a physical connection."

You shifted uncomfortably, avoiding Max's gaze. "Max, we agreed to keep things casual. I've made it clear that I'm not ready for anything serious."

Max's frustration boiled over, his voice now infused with anger. "Casual? Is that all I am to you? A convenient distraction, fulfilling your physical needs while disregarding my emotions?"

Taken aback by Max's outburst, your eyes widened. "Max, it's not like that. I care about you, but I can't offer you what you want right now."

Sitting up, Max's voice trembled with anger and vulnerability. "You acknowledge that you may be crossing a line. Well, you've crossed it. You made me believe there was something more between us than whatever we have going on. You've wasted our time, my time, by stringing me along, giving me false hope."

Your face crumpled as the weight of Max's words sank in. "Max, I never meant to hurt you. I didn't realize the impact of my actions, and I'm sorry if I led you on."

Max let out a bitter laugh, his anger giving way to resignation. "Sorry isn't enough. You've left me feeling confused and used. It's not fair to me or our connection."

You reached out, your trembling hand attempting to touch Max's arm. "Max, I never intended for things to get so complicated. I care about you, and I never wanted to jeopardize our friendship."

Max recoiled from your touch, his wounded pride and bruised heart pushing him to create distance. "You're not my friend, and you never were. Friends don't treat each other this way. I can't keep pretending that everything is fine when it's not."

Tears welled up in your eyes, your voice cracking with emotion. "Please, Max, I don't want to lose you. I don't want our friendship to end because of this."

Max's anger began to subside, replaced by deep sadness. "I need time to heal and reassess what I want. I can't promise our friendship will remain the same after this. I need space to figure things out."

Silence enveloped you, the weight of shattered expectations heavy in the air. The room, once filled with passion, now felt cold and distant. Max couldn't deny the hurt and betrayal he felt, but he also recognized the genuine pain in your eyes.

Your voice broke the silence, your words barely audible through your tears. "Why the fuss if you say you just wanna be mine? Because deep down, Max, I didn't want to lose you. I was scared of losing the connection we had, even if I couldn't give you what you wanted."

Max couldn't bear the burden of unexpressed emotions any longer. Anger and frustration bubbled up inside him, fueled by the pain of feeling used and discarded. He took a deep breath, his voice trembling with a mixture of rage and vulnerability.

Max's anger surged through him, his emotions bubbling up like molten lava. He felt betrayed and fed up with the uncertainty that had plagued your relationship for far too long. The weight of unexpressed desires and unfulfilled expectations had become unbearable, and he couldn't hold back any longer.

You watched Max, your eyes wide with a mix of shock and fear. You had never seen him this angry before, and the intensity of his words cut through you like a knife. You had underestimated the depth of his feelings and the impact of your actions.

With each word, Max's voice grew louder, his frustration seeping into every syllable. "Damn it! Y/N" he exploded, his voice echoing through the room. "I can't keep pretending that what we have is meaningless. Every time we're together, it's like fireworks are going off inside me. I'm tired of hiding it, of being the one who always compromises. I'm in love with you."

Your breath caught in your throat, your heart pounding against your chest. The gravity of Max's confession hit you like a tidal wave. You hadn't expected him to reveal his deepest emotions so forcefully, and it left you reeling with a mix of guilt and longing.

As Max continued to pour out his feelings, his voice cracked with vulnerability. "You have no idea how much it hurts to see you treat our connection as disposable. I'm not just a placeholder. I deserve to be loved. And if you can't give me that, then I need to walk away."

Your eyes widened in shock, unable to utter a word. The room fell into a heavy silence as Max's confession hung in the air.

Max's anger subsided, replaced by a sense of profound sadness. "You have no idea how much it hurts to see you treat our connection as disposable. I'm not just a placeholder. I deserve to be loved and wanted for more than just physical intimacy. And if you can't give me that, then I need to walk away."

Max's angry outburst shook you to your core, causing you to recoil as if struck by a sudden gust of wind. His words cut through you like a knife, leaving you feeling vulnerable and frightened. You had never seen this side of him before, and it sent a wave of panic surging through you.

Tears welled up in your eyes, your body trembling uncontrollably as you struggled to compose yourself. The weight of Max's anger bore down on you, making you feel small and defenseless. You desperately wanted to explain yourself, to make him understand that your intentions were never to hurt him.

Your tears fell in earnest now, tracing paths down your cheeks. You struggled to steady your voice, your vulnerability laid bare. "I… I didn't realize," you managed to whisper, your voice quivering with a mix of fear and sorrow. The weight of Max's anger bore down on you, making you feel small and defenseless. You wanted desperately to explain yourself, to make him understand that your intentions were never to hurt him.

Your voice trembled as you continued, your tears blurring your vision. "Max, I never wanted you to feel that way. I was wrong, and I'm so sorry. I care about you more than I can put into words, and

I never wanted to jeopardize what we had," your voice filled with a mixture of desperation and sincerity. "But, Max, you know I love you," you added.

Max's gaze softened as he looked into your tear-filled eyes, his heart swelling with a mix of emotions. He saw the depth of your remorse and the truth in your declaration. He squeezed your hand, offering support and reassurance.

"Schatje," he whispered, his voice barely above a breath, "I love you too."

As your eyes met, the weight of your shared commitment settled between you, igniting a renewed sense of possibility amidst the wreckage of your fractured connection. The room, once filled with anger and fear, now held a flicker of hope and the potential for healing.

Max took a moment to absorb your words, feeling a mix of relief and uncertainty. "So, what does this mean? Do you want to be together?"

You nodded, your voice steady with determination. "Yes, Max. I want to give us a chance. I'm still scared, but I want to be with you."

A wave of relief washed over Max as he realized the walls between you were finally crumbling down. He pulled you into a tight embrace, your bodies merging in a mix of passion and reassurance.

As Max and you held each other, a sense of relief washed over you. The heaviness that had clouded the room lifted, replaced by a renewed warmth and hope. The unspoken tension that had plagued you for so long was replaced by a deep sense of reassurance and possibility. Max's anger had served as a catalyst for change, and now you both stood on the precipice of a new chapter in your relationship.

Max leaned in, his lips meeting yours in a tender kiss. It was a kiss infused with years of unspoken desires and a promise of an unexplored future. Your lips intertwined with a gentle urgency as if to convey all the words that had remained unsaid.

Your heart soared as your lips intertwined, the taste of passion mingling with the sweet promise of a newfound connection. It felt like the missing piece had finally fallen into place, and you couldn't help but smile against his lips. The love that had remained hidden for far too long was now allowed to flourish, and you embraced it wholeheartedly.

Max's heart swelled with a mix of emotions as he deepened the kiss, savoring the taste of vulnerability and the unburdened truth. It was a bittersweet moment, knowing the pain you both had endured but also reveling in the newfound clarity. He had longed for this moment, to be able to express his love without fear or hesitation.

A soft smile spread across your faces as you kissed, a mutual understanding shining in your eyes. It was a moment of deep connection, where time seemed to stand still. As you parted, you leaned your foreheads against each other, your breaths mingling in the shared space between you.

In that moment of quiet intimacy, you exchanged unspoken promises. Your foreheads touching, you savored the comfort and familiarity of each other's presence. It was a moment of silent communication, where your hearts aligned and the weight of your past struggles began to fade away.

You remained locked in that tender embrace, finding solace in the silence and the unspoken language of your love. It was as if the universe had conspired to bring you together at that precise moment, urging you to embrace the depth of your connection.

With renewed strength and determination, Max and you shared a smile before your lips met once more. You allowed yourselves to get lost in the sweetness of the kiss, savoring the depth of your emotions and the promise of a future intertwined.

[vampireimiko]

Saw you wanted a Mortal Kombat ask. Alright, I’d like a Kuai Liang (preferably MKX or MK11) with a reader who has a robotic prosthetic. It could be an arm, a leg or maybe her eyes, whatever you want. She lost her body part in some kind of accident prior to meeting him and considering his hatred of ciberization and his past trauma with that, reader fears he is disgusted by her prosthetic or thinks less of her for not being completely organic. I’m ready for the angst!

Cyber

warnings, slight angst, but not really

note, mk11 kuai liang is SOOOOOO NGHH

Black. Black was the very last thing you saw before you fainted after the tragic accident that resulted in the loss of your arm. The memory lingered as a haunting echo, a phantom pain that transcended the physical absence of a limb. When you first met Kuai Liang, you couldn't help but feel a surge of anxiety, fearing that your prosthetic would be a stark reminder of the Lin Kuei's dark history with cyberization.

You just couldn't shake the worry that he might be disgusted or disappointed by the sight of your robotic arm. Now any other time, you wouldn't care what anyone thought of your robotic arm. Maybe when the incident was fresh you would've, but it's been 5 years since that accident. The only reason you felt strongly about it was because you thought Kuai Liang was attractive. If you two were too ever get together, you'd absolutely hate having to be a reminder to the cybernization of his clan.

It also didn't help that whenever you caught him looking in your direction it was almost always at your robotic arm. The gaze, though not judgmental, fueled your anxiety. One day, you decided to confront the unease, taking a deep breath and approaching him.

His eyes met yours, and for a moment, you hesitated. But then, something unexpected happened. Instead of recoiling or looking away uncomfortably, Kuai Liang's gaze lingered on yours.

"Kuai Liang, I would like you to tell me straight, what do you think of my robotic arm? Does it- Does it disgust you?"

Kuai Liang's gaze held yours for a moment longer before he gently took your hand. "Disgust? No, my dear. It doesn't disgust me," he replied, his voice sincere. "What I see is strength, resilience, and the courage to rise above adversity."

There was a subtle acknowledgment. It was a moment of shared understanding, and in that moment, you felt a connection forming beyond the confines of past traumas.

A mixture of surprise and relief flickered in your eyes. His words carried a weight of understanding, and you felt a warmth in your chest. Kuai Liang continued, "The past may have left scars, but it's our spirit that defines us. Your arm, no matter its composition, is a testament to the battles you've faced and the battles you've won."

His genuine acceptance and the depth of his words melted away the anxieties that had plagued you. It wasn't just a prosthetic; it was a part of your journey. Kuai Liang's compassionate perspective allowed you to see beyond the steel and find strength in vulnerability.

𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐭, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐢𝐦 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐢𝐭 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐮𝐭 😭 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬, 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤, 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐬𝐦 (𝐢𝐟 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐟𝐮𝐥) 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 !!

𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧

[generational-atrophy]

Can i req mafia dazai (that edgy one-eye dazai) with s/o that have ability to read mind? Dazai always want to touch s/o (to stop their ability ofc) but s/o always refuse as well. Maybe a little angst since dazai always ramble in his head about end his self and s/o is know it

(Port Mafia! Dazai x Reader) Telepathic S/O!

(Gender Neutral) Scenarios ~ A/N first bsd request i think? anyway yeahhhghgghgh men

Trigger Warning: Fem nicknames (Princess, pretty) other than that, none!

At first, he thinks your ability could be quite entertaining. Whenever he's around you, he tries to think of the most, abhorrent, disgusting things just to get a reaction. But once he's no longer amused, he becomes very uncomfortable.

He snickers as you stare at him, horrified, ”I know. Quite disgusting, isn't it? That was last week's body. Do you want to get out of my head or see the one before that? Because, spoilers, it was a kid. Real young, too.“

But if you're his work partner, he's good at coming up with situations that only your ability can solve. Soon enough, you'll be Dazai's little deadly rat weapon.

But other than that, it freaks him out. Being able to read his mind is just so... violating. His mind is a prison, a cell that he keeps tightly locked. He abhors revealing his true intentions and thoughts to anyone, and there you are! Being able to tell all of that, regardless of whether he wants you to or not. Ugh, he really, really doesn't like it.

Frankly, I have no idea how you two would start dating. Because well, one, Dazai's love language is majorly physical affection, and two, his mind is a nightmare hellscape. Good luck in there!

Outwardly, he'll act as if he doesn't care that you won't let him near. Of course, you know the truth though. He's incredibly bothered by it.

He'll often tease you about your aversion to his touch. He's very grabby when it comes to those he works with (and those he hates too, to be fair,) so he doesn't really know how to deal with you recoiling from him.

“I didn't think you were so sensitive, princess. But, tell me, don't you ever want your world to be truly quiet? I can give that to you, but only if you let me touch that pretty skin of yours…”

But really, he is desperate to hold you and hug you and kiss you- and well, a lot more than that. Which you know. Which he hates.

The more he starts actually falling in love with you, the less you'll see him. Knowing you know the truth scares him deeply. Sure, flirting is fine, but actual feelings? Which would make him vulnerable to you? He hates it. He doesn't mean to, but that often results in him lashing out.

“You know, you're really arrogant.  Sure, you can tell what I'm thinking in the moment, but you can't tell everything about a person from just that. You're no more powerful than anyone else here. Maybe you should take yourself down a peg before I do it for you.”

But once he gets used to it, he starts to favour it. He's not always great at communicating how he actually feels, and it's sometimes nice to skip the middle part.  He stops seeing it as a thing you can use against him, and more of a thing that keeps you two together. He's connected with you more than anyone else, and at the end of the day, that's all he wants.

[integra1127grimmreaper]

The Woman Before Me (Joel Miller)

Joel Miller Masterlist

Warning: lil angst, swearing and fluffy ending.

Summary: Joel stands the chance of possibly loosing you, but is ready to reveal his fears to you in order to save the relationship? Inspired by - Trisha Yearwood's - The Woman Before Me.

I can see you turn away When I ask what for You say it isn't anything But I'm not sure

Something underneath the skin Won't let you be And you try to keep it in But I can see

The woman before me must have been hard on you 'Cause that hurt in your eyes, I'll never put you through Sometimes I think you must be talking to The woman before me and you

It was a normal Friday evening for your boyfriend and you as usual; early dinner, the followed by a movie and halfway through it, you guys would end up fucking on the couch or living room floor. But tonight was different, something was bugging you, had been for quite some time and try as hard as you like, it wouldn’t remain dormant any longer. It was twenty minutes into the movie when you could no longer hold it, inhaling deeply; you gently push off from his chest.

“Joel...” you call his attention away from the movie.

“Mhm?” Joel turns to give you his full attention, a frown creasing his brows when noticing how tense you suddenly seemed. “What’s wrong, Sweetheart?”

“Nothing’s wrong...” you stammer, head cast downward while wringing your hands. Letting out a tense in preparation, “actually-” you pause midway to look up at him then, “is there a specific reason for me not have met Sarah yet?”

“What?” Joel’s frown deepens as he shifts further away from you.

*

Sometimes in an argument It will show When you go a little farther than You meant to go

I know you don't mean the things That you say I just wanna ease the pain That's in your way

But the woman before me must have been hard on you 'Cause that hurt in your eyes, I'll never put you through Sometimes I think you must be talking to The woman before me and you

“We’ve been together for over two years now... almost three” you remind him, “and not once have you offered for me to meet her.”

Joel scoffs at your words, an irritated grin crossing his face while getting up from the couch to tower over you. “Where’s all this suddenly comin’ from?”

“I just wanna know why, Joel” you stand up to face him, “whenever I try to bring it up, you’ve always changed the topic. I understood in the beginning, but it’s been two years...”

“Ya just being ridiculous now” Joel snorts, throwing his hands in the air to deflect the question.

“No, I’m not. It’s a reasonable question and I’d like to know why?” you respond, grabbing onto his arm when he attempts to walk away from you.

Joel abruptly whirls around, shouting at you, “’cause, I ain’t ‘bout to disrupt my daughter’s life by dumping some strange woman in it!”

“Well, shit...” you breath out in disbelief, dropping back to the couch. “Here I thought I was your girlfriend... guess I was wrong.”

“Now don’t be like that” Joel sighs, massaging at his temple.

“No, I get it now...” you mutter out, staring into the distance. “This is about Sarah’s mother, right?”

“Don’t...” Joel warns through gritted teeth, eyes darkening dangerously as he stares down at you.

“This isn’t the same thing, Joel” you stare up at him pleadingly, “I’m not the same as her.”

“Sure, as hell ya ain’t! ‘Cause ya never gonna get as close as she did!”

*

If there are sorrows that bring back a tear Don't let them keep us apart You oughta know you've got nothing to fear Here in my heart

'Cause you and I will never be Like the past Whatever kind of memories That you have

You physically recoil at the verbal slap, tears threatening to spill from your eyes, “she really fucked you up, didn’t she?”

“The fuck that supposed to mean?” Joel scowls in reply.

You take a moment to compose, exhaling softly, “you should leave.”

“What?!” Joel stares open mouthed at you.

“You clearly have a lot of unresolved issues surrounding your Ex, and this...” you point between the two of you, “isn’t going to go any further until you’ve resolved them.”

“That’s just stupid” Joel scoffs, “I don’t-”

“Joel!” you cut him off midway, “I believe it would be best if you left... before anymore words are spoken that we both will regret after.”

Joel attempts to open his to speak, but you stop him. “Please, just leave...”

Dropping his head; Joel grinds his teeth for a second in thought, releasing a sigh of defeat and grabbing he things to leave.

*

Nothing's gonna hurt you now Can't you see? I already made a vow That I can keep

But the woman before me must have been hard on you 'Cause that hurt in your eyes, I'll never put you through Sometimes I think you must be talking to The woman before me and you

Three weeks had passed since that disastrous evening between Joel and you, neither of you having spoken nor contacted one another in any form or way and it was taking its effect. You were moping about with a broken and attempting miserably at hiding it, Joel was burying his under a tone of mood swings and grumpiness. You were somewhat bearable, but Joel had exceeded the patience of those around him.

You were moping in front of the TV with junk food when there was a knock at the front-door, “Joel...?” you stare in surprise upon finding him on your doorstep.

“Mind if I come inside?” he stares at you doey-eyed. “I ain’t here to fight” he hastily remarks before you could answer.

“Fine” you sigh, stepping aside to let him in.

“Why are you here, Joel?” you ask, taking a seat across from him.

Joel silently wrings his hands for second, releasing a tense breath as he looks up toward you then. “Ya were right... ‘bout Sarah’s mother.”

“Joel-”

“Just wait...” Joel holds his hand out to pause you, “just let me finish, then ya can decide what to say from there.”

Exhaling heavily, silently nod in agree and Joel continues. “She did fuck me up, ya were right ‘bout that. But not ‘cause she left me... it was her leaving Sarah.” Letting out a soft chuckle of disbelief, he shakes his head, “what kind of a mother, what kind of a person... walks out on their infant child?”

“Oh, Joel...” you let out a breath of sympathy, getting up to sit beside him.

“I get if she didn’t wanna be married to me any longer, but... she still coulda stayed in Sarah’s life” Joel’s voice quivers with emotions. “She broke my lil girl’s heart without Sarah having gotten to know her. That’s what fucked me up.”

The damn finally bursts and you Joel into a hug to console, “shh... I understand, Joel... Take all the time you need, I understand.”

“No, ya don’t understand...” Joel mutters out, pulling back to look at you. “I was afraid if Sarah got attached to ya, it would destroy her if we didn’t work out.”

“I understand, you wanted to protect Sarah and for that I could never be mad at you for” you cup his face in your hands, “you’re doing what any good parent would.”

“My lil girl mean everythin’ to me” Joel remarks through teary eyes.

“As she should” you smile in response, “I won’t push about meeting her anymore.”

“Would ya like to meet her?” Joel asks.

“I’d love to... but you don’t have to-”

“I’ll go get her” Joel interrupts, swifty getting up.

“What...?” you jaw drops in surprise.

“She’s outside, I’ll just go get her” Joel states, rushing out before you could say anything else.

*

“Sweetheart... this is Sarah” Joel introduces the beautiful fourteen-year-old beside him, “Sarah, this is Y/N.”

Sarah flashes an identical dimpled smirk as her father’s at you and your heart instantly melts with love. “Pleasure to meet you, Sarah...” you shake her hand. “Your dad’s always speaking about you, feels as if I’ve known you forever.”

“Nice to meet you too” Sarah smiles at you, “though I wish I knew more about my dad’s girlfriend...” she remarks, side-eyeing Joel.

“I know, I know...” Joel guiltily sighs, Sarah and you chuckling loudly at him.

“Do you wanna have a seat?” you offer, “I could get you something to drink or perhaps eat?”

“No thank you...” Sarah softly snickers at your anxiousness over finally meeting her. “Uncle Tommy’s waiting outside for me.”

“Oh...” you stare wide-eyed at her.

“I just came along to make sure we finally meet” Sarah explains, whisper then, “in case this one decided to chicken out.”

“Ok....” you chuckle at her words, suddenly caught off-guard when Sarah grabs you into a hug. She pulls away, looking at you then, “dinner tomorrow at our house... though I'll be takeout, ‘cause dad can’t cook.”

“Sure, Sweetheart...” you chuckle, seeing her off at the door.

“So...” you remark, rocking on the balls of your feet as Joel walks up towards you, “I met Sarah...”

“You met Sarah...” Joel flashes a smile, wrapping an arm around your waist. Reaching up to play with the button of his shirt, you stare up into his eyes.

“What made you change your mind?”

“Sarah” Joel response, causing you to frown in confusion.

“She overheard Tommy and I having argument over what happened between us. Apparently, she’s known ‘bout you for some time and was pissed that I haven’t introduced ya two yet. Gave me a swift kick under the ass and made me come here to make it right.”

“I love her even more now...” you chuckle out.

“Really...?” Joel stares at you wide-eyed and you reach up to cup his face.

“She’s a part of the Man I Love... of course I love her. I’ve loved before I even met her.”

“I Love You...” Joel whispers, eyes teary as he smiled at your words.

“I Love You Too...” you respond, pulling him down for kiss. 

[theexaltedbride]

Dead Island 2 Slayers X National Guard Reader (Gender Neutral) (Part 2!)

(Once again, art is not mine, but taken from the old TTRPG “All Flesh Must Be Eaten”, forgive me if its a crappy crop. AFMBE is a pretty good and highly modular game if you want to get your zombie fix on with some dicegames. I would also recommend the other games by Eden Studios, like Conspiracy X, Armageddon, and Witchcraft. Not enough people out there give Unisystem a try.)

Amy:

-When it comes to running PT around the manor, or around the block that has been cleared out, Amy always runs past you like its nothing and sometimes playfully swats you on the butt just to help motivate you to move it.

-She sometimes says that after they all get out of this, she might start looking into helping out with physical therapy and exercises for wounded vets with prosthetics. Give something back to the community, but she’s doing it after she wins the gold at the Paralympics and kisses you on camera of course.

-When you go to visit Patton, Amy likes to tag along. She may not know what kind of pain he feels as a soldier, but she perfectly understands what he suffered through his injury and how he must have felt when given looks by people who saw his face. It was the same kind of looks that Amy got for her prosthetic leg. She sees that you like to check in on Patton and wants to be part of it, as her way of telling you that if you were ever hurt like that, or lost a limb like she did, then she would still love you no matter what.

-Amy has seen the way you sometimes have trouble fighting zombie soldiers, and has tried to help you through it by opening up a little about how she hates learning the names of the more recently infected, because its so much easier to put them down when you think of them as just monsters. She understands what bothers you, and she is there for you.

-After plenty of gun drills out in the hills (totally not an excuse to have a secret picnic alone together...well not all the time), you’ve both decided that a pistol is the best kind of Gun for Amy. Something lightweight she can fire one handed while on the run and keeping ahead of the undead.

Bruno:

-Whenever he sees you loading up on weapons or equipment it’s going to be a tossup between a John Wick or John Rambo joke.

-In a sparring match you got a bit too into it and punched Bruno so hard it knocked him down, he played it up more while asking if you could kiss it better.

-Once in bed asked you to talk to him in a more dominant and commanding way, giving him orders. 

-When you’ve tried to determine what gun was best for Bruno, he insisted on trying out a shotgun, only to immediately get knocked onto his ass by the recoil. He had a bruise for a few days, but it was the bruise to his ego which stung the most. This soon cleared up when you figured out a single shot sports rifle with the same caliber rounds as your own, was better for Bruno rather than Semi-automatic or Full-automatic. This way you could both share the same ammunition, but Bruno could actually take his time to hit the Zeds. Anything else seemed to make him too trigger happy. 

-Once you figured out Bruno kind of wanted to impress Mr. Curtis (because he was his Grandpa’s favorite actor) you helped Bruno get some target shooting in so that the next time Curtis had any shooting competitions at the mansion, Bruno just might be able to impress him. 

Carla:

-Similar to Bruno, Carla will sometimes compare you to Hicks or Vazques from Aliens when she sees you loading up, and will throw some quotes your way.

-The scratches you both leave on each other during sparring sessions lead to a lot of jokes that you’re straight up having wild Viking sex rather than training. Carla just jokes back that if you can survive either one with her then nothing will kill you.

-You were genuinely impressed at seeing Carla pick up an M-249 SAW like it was nothing. She loved the look on your face as she just unloaded it into a horde of Zeds coming at you. Sure, most of her shots completely missed or only maimed the zombies, but that still doesn’t change the fact that you will never forget that moment. 

-As a special gift to you, Carla’s personal project is to pick out one of the military vehicles lying around that is best suited for both fighting and transporting people, and tricking it out to handle moving through the zombie infested streets. She’s gonna make it look like something out of Dawn of the Dead or Mad Max. As tribute to you, she’s naming it the “(Your Name) 2″. Since she’s not up to date on what vehicle does what, she’s constantly asking you about them.

-Carla liked her own style, but after finding out from you just how many different pockets military and tactical pants have she’s started to adopt them as part of her wardrobe and loves all the extra space she has for holding her tools and snacks and whatever the hell else she wants to carry with her in the zombie apocalypse. Pockets rule!

Dani:

-Dani regularly helps you cut and style your hair properly so you can keep it regulation standard. She find it boring and would love to go crazy with your hair. But since you want it that way, and it relaxes you to keep some uniformity to your look, she tries to keep complaints to the minimum (but insists on getting to go all out with your hair once you both leave Hell-A and your time with the Guard is over).

-Despite not being one for guns, Dani took to them like a fish to water. She passed all the tests you devised for the group with flying colors (matched only by Sam B whose had plenty of experience by now). She prefers sticking to smaller calibers with pistols and submachine guns. You even went so far as to teach Dani a few little tricks, such as how to properly move and clear a room without bumping into someone else, and communicating with gestures and touches. Shoulder touching is normally a way of communicating between soldiers among a fire team to let them know you are nearby and ready, but between you and Dani it has also taken on a more...intimate meaning as well.

-Since Dani loves to swear now and gain you’ve taken to teaching her some military swears and fun acronyms like SNAFU (Situation Normal All Fucked Up), RDS (Real Deep Shit), and Blue Falcon (Buddy Fucker IE: Backstabber / double-crosser.).

-She sometimes jokes about taking the riot gear off of a riot zombie and wearing it so that she and you can look like a properly armored pair of warrior lovers. But she likes being able to maneuver around zombies and the armor would just cramp her style.  

-Started affectionately calling you the “GI of My Eye.”, even after someone joked that it sounded more like a reference to an eye infection than something sweet (to which she punched them square in the shoulder for it).

Jacob:

-He’s normally pretty anti-authoritarian and anti-establishment, but didn’t take too kindly to Rikky Rex shit talking you in your uniform and making Vietnam War comparisons. Rikky doesn’t know you and doesn’t know what you’ve been through to save people in Hell-A while he and his gang of drunks were partying it up in Beverly Hills. It wasn’t so much an argument on your behalf, as Rikky is way too drunk to hold a coherent thought, but it was kind of nice to see Jacob stand up for you personally even if there are things he doesn’t agree with about your service and to whom you swore an oath to. 

-You and Jacob are starting to develop a Legolas and Gimli style competition over who can stack the most Zeds per mission. You both lie to try and make it sound like the other person got more kills.

-Jacob is trying to find a sleeveless vest with a camo pattern that matches your own, no luck yet but he’ll keep looking.

-You tried to get Jacob to do some gun practice with you, but he honestly swears it off and is happy to stick with clubs and hammers. He says you can pick off the zeds from a distance while he crushes the ones that get through, teamwork.

-Jacob would love to introduce you to his mother, especially if you would show up in your dress uniform, his mother has always been telling him to meet someone nice and respectable outside of the Stunt actor business. 

Ryan:

-You and Ryan had a bonding experience over sharing an MRE together. He was surprised it wasn’t total garbage. It wasn’t good, but at least it was somewhat edible, and he especially loved finding that they sometimes come with sweets.

-You once caught him wearing your helmet and vest and admiring himself in a  mirror while trying out some lines as if he were an actor. You joked to him that if he really wants to admire himself like that in private you could clean up an extra uniform and gear for him to use, but to not use yours since you need them.

-Ryan sometimes leaves little things in your helmet when you are going to be separated for missions and he knows about it in advance. This could range from sweets, to notes, to even once an old photo of him mid dance during his previous career. 

-You’ve both been practicing how to carry another person if they are injured, that’s totally why you are constantly grabbing each other. No ulterior motive at all. It’s just professionalism, even though Ryan isn’t a real First Responder. (Do you think the other Slayers bought it?)

-He has sometimes wondered what he’d look like with a more military high and tight haircut, but just can’t give up his current hairstyle. He even jokes to you that it was a good thing he had a fireman’s costume on hand, or else he never would have been able to bluff his way past the security checkpoint if he had to pretend to be a soldier.

All Purpose Headcanons:

-Once it finally gets through the heads of everyone else that you have a day job besides being in the Guard, they started coming at you with all sorts of questions about what you do and why you chose to give up part of your time off and work days doing training and other work with the National Guard. They were kind of disappointed that your answers were pretty mundane.

-When your slayer lover was thrown into the sewer pit by the Numen, the only reason you didn’t immediately try to jump in and save them was because you tried to stab the nearest Numen who was in your way, only for them to block your hits. Despite being untrained, the Numen named ‘Thurston’ was able to match your movements with frightening speed, using the barrel of his own rifle to block all your bayonet jabs and swipes, before the one called Cadenza grabbed the barrel of your rifle and bent it like a toy. Together the two of them kicked you square in the chest and send you tumbling down into the same pit as your lover.

You landed on the ground with such force it knocked the wind out of you, but before the zombies could overwhelm you your Slayer Lover jumped in, crushing the skulls of the zeds with ease, kicking them so hard they splattered against walls. Even in your lover’s frenzied state, they recognized you and knew the danger you were in, and would not allow any harm to come to you.

-When your own Numen abilities began to manifest beyond just a general boost to your body and rapid regeneration, you found that your experience as a soldier, taking orders and sometimes giving them, has influenced your powers. When you try hard enough, you can start to command the weaker autophage infected and use them like puppets to attack other infected. It is draining, gives you a real migraine, and feels...dirty when you do it. But it has been a lifesaver for the group on a few occasions so it remains a trick you can pull out when needed. You can’t do more than a dozen infected at a single time, but the more you practice, the better you get at controlling them. 

You’re also beginning to suspect that the Numen called ‘Konradt’ might have a similar power to you. Unlike her, you only use this power when necessary, while you have a sneaking suspicion that she uses it to spy on you and the Slayers.

-Your Slayer lover kept trying to throw grenades like they were baseballs and it took you a while to teach them to properly lob it overhead. Luckily there are plenty of Zeds to practice with.

-Thankfully you haven’t had to fight too many other survivors, the uniform and six other survivors at your back is enough to intimidate most raiders, but a few times now its had to happen, at least when it does you can fall back on the training.

-As dangerous and downright terrifying as it is to go out at night, sometimes you have no choice, a mission needs to be done or you need the cover of darkness to help you get somewhere far from the mansion. For moments like these you are sadly one of the better options for a moonlight run. You have yet to find any proper night vision goggles, so you have no choice but to rely on moonlight, random streetlights, or your own flashlights to get across Hell-A. Since you’re the one with an understanding of light discipline, and regularly wears camo to blend in, you are normally chosen to go out at night. Though your Slayer Lover always wants to go with you since its dangerous at night. 

-You have some small experience with CBRN and other Hazmat training, not a lot but you and the others were given a quick refresher before being sent to LA to fight the infection, so you tend to be the one helping cleanup after any major fights near a safezone. Surprisingly, Andrea is pretty good at cleaning up those messes as well. The group also tends to depend on you to clear the way whenever you encounter that caustic slime the government was using to melt down infected bodies and neutralize the virus. 

-The worst encounter you’ve had so far has been in finding infected version of soldiers and guards that you knew from before. Whatever they once were is gone now, and you struggled to pull the trigger, the Slayers helped you, they told you to just look away while they did the dirty work. There were no jokes, no quips, just fast and efficient Slaying. Afterwards, your lover refused to leave your side until they were sure you were okay, and only after you asked them to give you some space.

-The best memory so far is when you (thanks to Carla’s mechanic experience) managed to get a Humvee working and proceeded to drive it up and down the beach, giving everyone else a turn on the .50 call in the turret, while mowing down zombies left and right. You even plowed through a few smaller swarms before you slammed into a Crusher and had to bail out while it was trying to flip the vehicle. Next time you are gonna try to do it again with an MRAP. Though honestly you should get one of those working in order to safely evacuate multiple civilians at once if you ever need it.

-Since you already have some bayonet training and experience you’re starting to get good at using spears and polearms and other similar two-handed stabbing weapons.

-Sometimes when you and Patton hang out, you both slip into a lot of military jargon and three letter acronyms or slang that leaves the rest of the group completely lost. Its fun to see the utter confusion on their faces.

-You’ve had to borrow extra uniforms off of the ‘fresher’ undead and give them a thorough cleaning so you have more than one set to use throughout the week. The others have suggested just switching to normal clothes, but you can’t. This is who you are and its who you will present yourself as, especially given how many times people have looked hopeful when you and the Slayers come to the rescue.

-Sometimes you listen to Civil Defense frequencies on the radios, or over scavenged military comms and some of the reports you hear are strange. Those earthquakes that screwed up the evacuation almost felt targeted, rather than just a case of nature being cruel. Down in one of the spare rooms you are slowly putting the pieces together with a web of intrigue on a wall. The others aren’t sure they buy your theory...but you think the Earthquakes and all that slime everywhere is not natural, its something eldritch, lovecraftian even. Luciana is the only one who is into this, but you need more proof. Which might mean dealing with the Eschaton group at some point.

When you have enough proof, you’re going to send it back to the DOD, CDC, Every single Alphabet Agency and news agency, so that the world can be prepared for what is to come. You just need to be able to prove it. This might be the only chance we have to stop humanity from dying, all the lives lost, all the pain endured, it has to be worth it in the end.

Bonus: Bruno’s playlist for you.

Some of the songs Bruno has put together which remind him of you or he likes to listen when out with you.

-The Offspring “Dividing By Zero/Slim Pickens”.

-Neo Fresco “Sublimation”.

-Battlefield 3 “Steel On Target”.

-Sons of Pythagoras  “Counting The Cost”.

-Imagine Dragons “Friction”.

-Nine Inch Nails  “The Good Soldier”.

-Invocation Array “The Machine in the Ghost”.

-Jefferson Airplane  “White Rabbit”.

-Disturbed “The Curse”.

-Disturbed  “The Infection”.