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vhstown · 3 months

Text

'til the breath returns

— hobie brown x gn!reader (dissociation comfort)

summary: It's hard to stay in your own body sometimes. At least Hobie's right there with you.

warnings: v self-indulgent (so may not be a very accurate depiction of dissociation erm...), dissociation / derealisation / depersonalisation (those terms are distinct but just in case :p), anxious behaviour, hurt/comfort-ish, hobie is trying his best? (he's not ur therapist but it's okay) & not proofread

word count: 1.9k

a/n: been struggling to get out of a dp/dr funk recently so. here we are! no gif lemme keep this one on the down-low fr 😭 img is of camden town from pinterest

🕸️📞🎸

"Hello? Hello...?"

The muscles in your shoulders tightened at the sound of the voice, obscurely louder than anything else around you — around you being the market, that was. Just how long had you been here?

You felt a burning ache in your eyes as you looked around, taking in the blur around you before meeting the expression of the man in front of you. The owner of the food truck, of course. He had an impatient look on his face, but it was too much detail to be anxious about.

"Sorry, uh..." you offered quietly, cut off by another loud voice behind you.

"Just hurry up and pay, mate! We haven't got all day!"

Your jaw tensed, crunching uncomfortably as you fumbled for something in your pockets. Trying to find cash of some sort, the world became still again, and you could barely register what they were saying before you put whatever you could find on the window sill of the truck.

Something that sounded unpleasant, another shout, maybe, followed behind you as you walked out into the open pavements of the market. Your hands felt funny, breath dry and head heavy and so light at the same time. It felt like you were floating, but also sinking so deep under water you were moving slow motion against the thick water. It was somewhat comforting, that image.

Maybe you should just sit down, let yourself fall backwards and sink. Maybe you'd wake up in bed, and fully be able to open your own eyes again. When was the last time you could do that? When was the last time you woke up? This morning, surely. It seemed so far away; maybe you should walk home, find home — it was somewhere near here. Where were you walking?

Why was the ground getting so close to your face—

"Hey, hey! Oi!"

Before your weight could fall forward anymore, you felt a hand move around your stomach. Tongue stinging too, you realise you'd bitten it. The urgent touch became more gentle, as the haste wore off and you were helped to your feet. You tried to pick up the sounds to form a "thank you", but all you could do was stare strangely as you met a face you could just about recognise.

"Don't mean to scare you, darling."

It was your boyfriend, is what you told yourself. Hobie.

"Didn't get your change..." He held out the coins in his hand, some of which were probably already yours . "And you're trippin' over yourself."

It would sound too weird if you tried to laugh, so you didn't bother.

"My bad, just out of it." Right, is what he must've thought.

"Been out of it for a while, huh?" He taps your cheek twice, bringing your attention to him. You hadn't realised you'd been staring dead straight into his chest — not anywhere near his face. "Your patty's all squashed, love."

His fingers moved gently between yours, prying the poor warm paper from your hand. The patty you had bought had started to singe the tips of your fingers, and the tips of your fingers had already broken apart the bread of the patty.

You didn't have much will to complain, but the corners of Hobie's mouth turned down in a frown. He took your hand, the pad of histhumb brushing the lingering heat off of your fingers

"What's going on? You hungry? Tired? Upset...?" All you could give him was a useless shrug — it'd probably be easier to fix if you could describe it; if only. "Hm..."

The back of his hand was cold against your forehead. Or maybe you were cold; he never really got cold after all.

"You wanna go home?"

"Hm?" you murmured, Hobie observing you. You weren't supposed to go home; you'd get over it. Fresh air and a walk was supposed to help, anyway — not like it was. "Thought you wanted to stay."

"We can always come back another time. You don't look like you're enjoying yourself."

His hand moved to your shoulder, brushing his lips over your forehead. It was definitely you that was cold.

"I think you should have my patty, too," he added, placing his in your hand.

Arm moving fully around your shoulder, the two of you started to walk back.

"It'll be warm out, soon," Hobie comments, as if trying to be inconspicuous. He pulls you closer to mams for a lady walking her dogs: little white lap dogs that turned their heads to look at you, or maybe Hobie. You tried to remember if the last time you saw them was today or last week.

"Ah, yeah..." you said, realising he was waiting for you to say something — something of more substance, probably.

"Sure bloody hope so," he continued, something like humour in his voice. "Been freezing my bum off for the past month."

Your steps felt big against the ground, like the ground was pushing back up, and you were going to float away if Hobie let you go. All you could do was just hope he didn't.

"It better not rain, though. I'll go mad if it does. Nothing's good in the rain, 'specially not food. Meant to have a street party soon."

Remembering the patty in your hand, you took a bite before Hobie had to remind you. It was veg — not beef like he'd usually have. In fact, he complained about the veg usually. Still, today, he'd wanted a veg patty. You held onto that fact like it was the first thing you'd ever been told, as you walked together.

As he continued talking, you had reached the riverside. It looked onwards to the canal, the water coloured by the orange sun. Everything always looked so different on the way back; the air was still, and it was evening by now.

"Mine or yours?" Hobie asks, as you reach the by-street.

"Mine, if you come with me."

"I ain't gonna leave you behind, or nothin'."

He cracks a smile, and you reach for his hand time time as you took the turn to your home. There were shops that passed by, but you didn't pay enough attention to figure out what they were.

And you weren't sure when you ended up in bed, probably after making conversation for a bit and changing, because you were now in your own bed, arms and legs and Hobie's chest encasing you in a relaxed hug. You were wearing a shirt that fit weirdly on you. It was likely his — the one shirt he had without lint on it. His head wasn't entirely on your shoulder, but he was close enough to press a kiss to your temple — it left a warm, tingling feeling, as did the rest of his weight against you.

"Is there something wrong specifically?" he asks, voice a quiet, smooth vibration next to you.

"Dunno, I just... feel weird. Mentally, I mean," you admit, turning your head to lean it against his. "I think this is helping, though."

"Yeah? You want me to do anything else?" You just wanted to keep yourself awake; you wanted to keep hearing his voice.

"Want to hear you talk more."

"As long as you talk as well." Your quiet sigh was audible enough to him, it seemed. "C'mon love, you've gotta talk, or you'll be stuck up there forever."

With your demeanor seeming to give up with you, he pressed another kiss to your face, near the corner of your mouth this time. It usually got a smile out of you, but you didn't know if you had the energy to. He lingered there, still.

"How about we start with right now?" he muttered, hand on your shoulder. "You gonna tell me about those new decorations in your room? Or all those new clothes in your closet? Or how your bathroom doesn't have the nice-tasting toothpaste anymore?"

"Hobie... What the hell..." You frowned. And then the smallest laugh escaped out of you, because you frowned, and then he laughed, because it was all he really needed.

"I'm serious, though. Let's start from the top?"

"Like... from when I was born?" That got a laugh out of him, thankfully. Your smile, though little, didn't seem to disappear just yet.

"Well, if you want," he replied, pulling his arms tighter around your sides. "I was thinking more like, this morning?"

This morning... A little worry creeped inside your stomach as you came to face how little you could really recount right now. The light brush of Hobie's thumb against your cheek kept you at bay, however, and you took in a deep breath.

"Well, today... we went to the market together," you started, taking his hand from your shoulder and holding it in your own. You toyed idly with his fingers, thumb brushing over his rings as your mind fell into blankness again.

"And it rained all morning," Hobie said, after a beat of silence, fingers gently squeezing yours.

"And... this little kid slipped in the mud," you murmured.

"Ah, he did. Rough, weren't it?"

"Mhm," you replied, and at the silence, you tried to continue. "Poor thing. His dad looked horrified."

The quiet chuckle against your back made your words seem somewhat more trustworthy, and you finally decided to just let yourself speak, about anything that came to mind.

"...And then we went to look at clothes. None of them were your size."

"Couldn't believe it..." Hobie commented, murmuring.

"And then we... got lost for a bit. Ended up in this shop that sold china."

"Oh yeah, there were those funny bird-lookin' ones."

"And then we walked around for a bit..."

Truthfully, he wasn't sure if it was actually helping or not, but at the very least, that fuzzy look in your eyes that scared him a bit had eased

"And now we're home," you concluded, and he kissed the side of your head as if to confirm.

"Yep. Where are we?" The question was pretty straightforward, but you took the chance to answer regardless.

"In my room... On my bed." The mattress creaked just a little as you readjusted your position, moving closer against him. "And I'm still with you."

"Uh-huh. Still here."

"It's getting dark out, though." Looking out at the dimming sky through your window, you took another breath in, not as deep as you would've liked.

"I can stay," Hobie reassured. His voice gave no reason for you to doubt it.

"Could you?"

"A hundred percent. Not a second I don't wanna spend with you."

Hobie brushed his nose against yours, before pressing a momentary kiss to your lips.

"Look," he started, voice low and soft, slightly more serious. "I'm not exactly sure how to help, but whatever you need, I'll be here."

Turning to face him again, you returned his kiss, holding it a little longer to feel the warmth of his lips against yours. Hobie held you like you were the world, and everything in it; if you didn't need to, at least you wanted to.

"Can we just keep talking?" Your voice sounded different, but not strange — a bit less tense, more certain.

"We can talk about anything you want; we've got all night."

You narrowed your eyes in thought for a moment, and he looked at you as if he already knew what you were thinking.

"...Could you scratch my back too?"

Hobie grinned, and so warmly — so easily. You felt a smile tug at your lips too, breath sinking back into your chest and the ever-present weight starting to lift from your body.

"Yeah, sweetheart — of course. Want me to switch the light off?"

You decided to nod, saving your words for when you finally laid in the darkness, curled up against him. Murmuring soft, yet sure words between each other, his fingers grazed your back in a gentle back-and-forth, and as your voice faded, he pressed another kiss to your forehead, pulling you further into him and the covers.

Breath quiet and even, you inevitably drifted into sleep. His hand was still on your back, feeling each breath of yours as it came and went, like the shore lapping against the land. And he'd breathe right with you, even when you couldn't hear him — even if he'd have to do it all over again tomorrow.

Always, he promised himself, and you. Always, until your breath returned — until you returned.

🕸️📞🎸

thank you for reading urrrr never written a comfort fic before n ik this is kind of diff but hopefully some of my usual stuff soon 🙏

rbs appreciated if u liked it, atsv masterlist here!

@phoenixinthefiles @qiupachups

#vhstown #hobie brown x reader #hobie brown x you #hobie brown x gn!reader #hobie brown #spider punk #hobie brown fic #atsv fic #self indulgent

187 notes · View notes

florence-end · 9 months

Note

what do you think about pregnant reader x rhys that is emotional, like she has a sandwich and it falls to the floor and she starts wailing bc she put so much time into it? btw god i literally live your while page like i binge read everything, you’re so talanted😭😭❤️

Ahhhhh obsessed with this, he’d constantly be so alarmed! And thank you, that’s made my day🥹🥹

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You put the final piece of bread on your monstrosity of a sandwich and stepped back to consider if there was anything else you wanted to add before tucking in. The kitchen counter was littered with cheese, peanut butter, pickles, syrup, hot sauce and tomatoes, all of which had made the cut for your lunch. You knew it was a little unorthodox but what baby wanted, baby got. The little bean in your belly seemed to wiggle around excitedly, sensing food was on its way.

Picking up your sandwich, you walked to the window overlooking the garden behind the townhouse and lifted the creation to your mouth ready to take an enormous bite when-

“Hello darling, what have you got there?”

You shrieked loudly, dropping the sandwich as your hands moved to your protruding belly protectively as you reeled from the shock of your husband winnowing into your kitchen without warning.

The sandwich hit the floor with a resounding splat, all the ingredients spreading out across the tiles as you stared down at it in shock.

“Oh I’m sorry my love, I didn’t mean to make you jump. Here, let me clean that up,” Rhys apologised, placing a hand on your back to usher you away from the mess.

You looked up at him then down at the remains of the only thing you had felt like eating all day, before you angrily knocked his hand away from you and burst into tears.

“No no no, don’t cry, it’s okay! I’ll make you another sandwich right now, it’ll take two minutes,” Rhys fretted. You had been feeling quite emotional during this stage of your pregnancy and to put it simply, Rhys couldn’t cope. The slightest wobble of your lip or sign of tears in your eyes and he was jumping into action to resolve anything that might have caused you even the smallest upset. But this was the first time he had caused the waterworks, making it a thousand times worse.

You knew you were being irrational but you didn’t care. You didn’t even want another sandwich now, the sight of the strange ingredients splattered on the floor putting you off immediately.

“No, don’t bother” you sobbed, waddling to the stairs and back to your shared bedroom.

Rhys stood frozen in the kitchen, absentmindedly sending his power out to clear up the mess on the floor and the counters while he tried to figure out his next move. But before he could make a decision on how to comfort you this time, you were back. You stumbled back into the kitchen, tears still rolling uncontrollably down your face, and immediately leaned your forehead on Rhys’ chest. Well, as best you could while accommodating the large belly.

“I’m sorry,” you wailed. “Please don’t go!”

Rhys chuckled, gathering you up into his arms and moving to the armchair by the roaring fire in the living room. He sat down with you comfortably curled onto his lap, his hands rubbing soothing circles into your back and stomach.

“No apologies necessary darling, you are carrying my child and you can be as emotional as you like. I’ve dealt with far worse from my family over the years and they had no hormones to blame. You do need to eat though, what sounds good? I’m guessing sandwiches are off the table now,” he leaned back to get a look at your face, tear tracks still wet against your cheeks.

You thought for a second.

“Ooooh you know what sounds really good? That stew Cassian made last time we visited Windhaven!” You declared, grinning at the memory, sandwich and ensuing upset forgotten.

“Leave it with me darling. Why don’t you take a nap, and he’ll have it ready by the time you wake up,” your husband promised, moving you to the large sofa.

You settled down happily, dreaming of the warm spiced stew you’d be enjoying when you woke up.

With your eyes closed, you didn’t see Rhys run his hands down his face as he prepared to winnow to the remote Illyrian camp that the General was currently visiting. He’d no doubt get the ribbing of his life when he explained to his brother that he needed him to come home three days early or else his pretty little pregnant wife was going to cry again. Gods help him.

#acotar fanfiction #acotar #rhys acotar #rhysand x reader #rhysand x you

398 notes · View notes

qvrcll · 10 months

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Hi! So I love your blog and I have a request if you're up for it!

So imagine Vendetta!Leon or ID!Leon with a younger, Rookie D.S.O agent. So the reader is learning about what it takes to be an agent and they are skilled but a little reckless. The reader and Leon end up going on a mission together and something happens to where the reader does something risky/reckless to save Leon and afterwards while Leon is patching them up he's also scolding them for putting themselves into a dangerous situation...

I just thought it was a cute idea and I adore your blog so obviously no pressure and thank you regardless! :)

change

summary: training to be a d.s.o agent has its perks and its fair share of dangers, and who would know that best other than the acclaimed leon s. kennedy? former rookie cop turned myth, you’re troubled as you try to not question your worth to your duty — to him.

warnings: intense violent imagery, d.s.o. agent reader, talk of death / loss, talk of wounds / stabbing, weapons mentioned, angst (comfort i swear!!!!!!!), written with infinite darkness ! leon in mind

a/n: bam stop using deftones songs as titles FAILED. and hello??? ur mind??? revolutionary. but thank u so much for the request!! i did make it more angsty than intended 😭 but happy ending i swear !! this is just a general disclaimer, but i’m trying my best to get as many requests done as possible, but finding myself easily burnt out, so please bare with me if i take some time to get these pieces out!! enjoy :-)

word count: 3.5k+ (help)

You’re well put together — inundated at the seams and bursting in the areas that made you an excelling recruit, something of a common place practice when one gets appointed to a station as alpine as the D.S.O.

It’s gruelling at first. The training, not the people — the people here offer you awkward but veritable grins, cloying pats on the head when you’d surpassed a notable fix in your inculcation, maybe even conversation in places you’d expect hard worn expressions, bumps of the shoulders, a lack of acquiescence for a new comer such as you.

“Turns out, there’s a new donut place opening in the city” someone speaks through a mouthful of food, grinning when admonished by their peer. They look at you with tired yet cordial won eyes, something like a respite in comparison to the gruelling training and pains you endure in staple hours.

You laugh, craning backwards, replying “Really? Wanna go sometime?”

And they teem, sheen with surety as you set a date. The date passes and you’ve got your fridge brimmed with donuts — pastel, sugar coated and chockfull of profuse fillings.

You’re home. You’re staring at your laptop. The device whirrs with effort, the screen fulgent with simulated light as block words stare back at you — MULTIPLE KILLED IN GOVERNMENT ORDAINED PROJECT. SEVERAL INJURED.

The next day, you press your lips together and wait for the space ahead to be filled with a familiar face, some day old blistering talk about donut shops and parties and mandated leaves.

No one comes. You chew your bread in wanton silence.

And your days blur as usual — your attitude is unparalleled. You give yourself the credit for coarsening against such losses, of confidants who offered you their time and remaining nuance of sentience. You don’t, however, congeal like they do. You do not die or recoup.

You move senselessly and so do the days.

It’s several months later, when you’ve gathered yourself in the training room, greased with sweat and vigour, when you meet him.

Leon S. Kennedy, in the flesh.

There’s talk of him in the corridors, rumours of his barely capricious resolve and even more so of his loyalty to the D.S.O. Of his habitual reclusiveness, ordained leaves and near blank appearances.

He’s almost a myth.

Still, you’re real and working and need to cavort around your training till your muscles bleed and chalk up with pain that marks enough effort for the night — you do not want to stay a rookie forever. There’s a insecurity underscored in your brain somewhere, in bright red lines and despite the sweat of your skill in your hands, but you decide to delineate it for tonight. Try to focus on the knotty feel of the compress against your knuckles as you strengthen your feet, begin to get into a stance most up to par, a gracing thought of ‘please don’t break my bones’ pressed into the bean bag before—

“Hello?”

The addition of another voice, besides the earsplitting one in your mind, makes you falter. Makes you lose your footing and touch the target in front of you, rather than skirting it with a hard worn touch — the sight would’ve made you chuckle on a normal day. But today was not normal, it was marked with a accent of irresolutions. So you swivel on your feet, baring your teeth like the caitiff the D.S.O had disillusioned everyone into being. The pretence doesn’t fool anyone, not even yourself, but you give it a try.

And maybe you give yourself some credit, for stoking it up to the myth, the caricature of duty himself, Leon Kennedy. In the flesh, complexion enervated in his well earned stack of muscle, that seemed to be garbed with a leather jacket. Jeans.

How… normal.

You lose tension in your muscles. Ditch the shout in your brows. Abandon the faux, heavy lined bellicosity in your belly for curiosity. Some guilt and embarrassment, too.

“Leon S. Kennedy?” you gasp, feel the air hit your tongue. The room grows a faltering few degrees hotter, and some part of you is convinced you’ll sink into the floor in a matter of minutes.

But Leon offers you one of his complimentary smiles that scream business. His hands are discarded in the wide sinews of his jeans, where they are distracted and nonplussed with the goal of hurting the material with diverted fingers. Yet you linger ahead of him, visibly sweaty and awkward, and it blunders his heart with some peace that you’re biding that same level of awkwardness.

“In the flesh,” he jokes, but the room is too small, too dark to determine tone. To determine the weight of his words or his presence. You still find sentience in you to laugh, snort even, and it makes the air between a lot more genuine, “I’ve come to discuss something here with you.”

“With me?” you croak, not wanting to sound delirious but inevitably falling for the trap — what did the Leon Kennedy want to do with a single recruit that is you? Skilled, yes, but sharing the innumerable roster of missions as him? Not a chance. Still, you grab a towel and a bottle of water, finding rhythm in your step as you talk alongside him to the exit.

Slogging be damned.

He offers a small nod, resigned in a way that made sense to the both of you, “We’re to be assigned in a collaborative project. A mission, if you will,” he opens the door, allows you to step past the threshold first and doesn’t miss the way you flesh out with a terrible blush as you skitter ahead, “Nothing too out of the ordinary for agents like you and me. Just a simple clear up.”

But we are nothing alike, you want to ink the air with the words. And some part of you stiffens as you hear the intractable comparison. Still, you’re curious above all things else and hear him out — not that I can refuse, you add mentally. Scribble out with imaginable red ink.

“When will it be?” you ask, feet jittery and muscles still sheening.

“A month from now” he confirmes. You work to notice the exigent lines of wear and tear on his face, the follow of a stubble beginning to thread against his chin and jaw. The sharpness giving way to kindness in his eyes as he looks at you.

Oh god, he’s looking at you.

“I see,” you say, gaze falling to the gravel and spit of stone as you corner the exit. As the wind hits your skin, you’re pathetically assuming a shiver. You hope Leon isn’t as perceptive as the rumours pin him to be, but you never truly get anywhere with that wish — he places a warm, kind hand on your shoulder, “You’re freezing.”

“Yeah I should probably—“

“Get back?”

“Home, yeah.”

And an awkward, painfully annoying silence courses the space between you two — between you and this acclaimed proxy you barely knew prior to these graceless seconds. The better part of you ushers the thought away and the worse part of you is antsy to prove something — anything.

“Get home safe…” he offers some semblance of a tight lipped smile, again as reclusive as he can get. His back is turned to you, departing, and you’re pulled in the other direction by your feet, when you suddenly turn around.

He’s gone already.

The month beneath his guidance is as you expect it — resilient and tough on the flesh. He manoeuvres you in ways you’d never have begun to correct yourself (“Lift the end of your arms here, instead of down here.”)

He presses feeling and rigour to his praise (“That’s it — you got it. Good job — now give me 20 more.”)

He holds you back from splintering push forwards, from the bridge between you and your apex. Holds a hand against your wet shoulder to shoulder your eagerness (“Woah, woah — don’t get too ahead of yourself.”)

You make it known of your gratefulness. You buy takeout and share it on the stairs. You communicate your worries and walk out free of them.

You also hate him for rubbing raw of your potential. You hate him for the wounded look in his eyes when you falter. You hate him for the itch in his fingers when you push yourself some more.

But you keep that one for the shadows. Don’t make it known. Hide it behind falsity.

You share takeout on the stairs again.

The night before the assignment couldn’t be more gruelling.

You’re welcome by the sheets, yet find no recluse in them, as you twist and turn as the hours come. Your feet are stretched and throbbing with hurt from the range of pushing exercises from the day before, your fingers curling with effort only.

And your head is plagued. Swimming, bathed, with those reticent thoughts. Those same block letters that spoke back to you, flagged the death of thousands you knew from passing glances to remembered conversations.

You turn on your side, try to flush the thought away. But they come back with vigour, with spit.

You knew them.

You’d eaten with them.

You’ll die just the same.

Fuck this.

Your feet find the cold, hard-wood floors immediately. They’re a ridged comparison to the heat of the sheets, but a blistering reminder of what’s to come tomorrow. You pace your apartment, crowd your brain with tasks, busy your hands, till the sun flits past the clouds like routine.

And with your heart in your throat, you ready yourself to the chin, gripping yourself with the promise of doing what you must to euchre death on its own doorstep — both for you and Leon.

The day arrives with a quick start. You’re deployed in a vehicular that is smaller than anticipated, holding your fears in your hands with cupped palms. Leon sits beside you, eyes vacant of anything palpable. You’d talked once, but that’s all of what either of you offered each other up till now — now, it’s you and your fears, cut-throat and fusty, ahead of you.

A thought of your friend passes your mind.

A thought of the donut shop.

A thought of the bottom of your coffee cup.

A thought of the post-mortem images. Of the flesh. The blood. The time. The place.

“Remember,” Leon cards you out of your worst, thoughts crumbling against themselves as you swivel to glance at him, “on me at all times. No sudden moves. Got it?”

He is far more profound here, the spitting image of the rumours materialised into the skin of a battle worn agent — his tone is pebbly, no semblance of that night’s patience in it anymore.

He’s in it for good. And you should be too.

“Got it,” you reply when the seconds flow too far. He nods back, curt and sharp and you want to talk him up. Want to offer your share of strategies. Want to card through the wounds on your arm and how to avoid the bloody things. Want to loop your fingers through half of his experience and not want to set him back.

But it was never that simple. And the ride is just as silent.

Two hours in and you’re stationed against crumbling brick, jagged stone, MK-45 gripped tightly in your hands. The smell of rot, mycelium, abused your lungs. Makes you stagger forward and hold yourself by the seams like flesh on plying bone.

But when you look at Leon, he’s everything but as discomposed as you — his eyebrows are tightly drawn, a shadow to his eyes that wasn’t there prior. There’s a bite in his step, in the way he holds his weapon, in the way he surveys the area.

Get yourself together, you think.

Within minutes, you force yourself to straighten your back, swallow back the burdensome bile stretching against your mouth and prime yourself to the futile smell of the dead at every carrefour you cross.

“Ahead,” Leon speaks and clings to your attention.

You look ahead, noticing an array of groaning zombies clawing at a car that seemed to have initiated its alarm. The smell is amplified by the rub of petrol curdling out of the car (from the repeated clash of the zombies, you’re sure) and you frustrate yourself into not gagging — think ‘fucking hell, I really hate these things.’

“You go to the left, I’ll take the right,” Leon whispers and you realise his motive.

Mutual accomplishment built on the precipice of trust.

Still, he looks at you like he’ll splinter without a response.

Like he relies on this circulation, no matter how damning, how short. His eyes scream ‘don’t you dare do anything stupid’ and you choose to blur it into something nonsensical, a thought of ‘it’s common procedure, a set of instructions he needs to hand feed me’, choosing to ignore the obvious side of things, the bleeding flush of his words, the trepidation nailing every withering seam of his body.

He’d grown to interpret you as more than just a rookie, someone capable of vigour and strength of the winning.

He needed you alive.

You needed him to look at you other than a wounded animal.

You offer him some little nod, feet hurrying up to the fluster of zombies against the few cars gathered there — as you get close, you can see the vegetation cram against the side walk, the stink of flesh against the windshield.

But you’re skilled, not stupid.

Your weapon purrs with warmth in your hand as you pin down the first vier, working your second round of bullets with the other five you’ve attracted— their fractured groans are animalistic, orotund where human capability shouldn’t be.

But you’re twice the work than they ever are.

“Fuck,” you whisper, realising close proximity doesn’t hold up with your choice of weapon — so, working against better judgement, you retrieve your knife by the hilt, scoring it against the reeking flesh of the first two. You quickly gain footing and stab the other two point black in the skull, feeling the vibrating collusion fill the blade.

And you’re close — you feel it. With another plow, the last of them falters to the floor with a wet thump. Blood pools at your feet, curdles against the material of your boot as you curl a hand against your hip in weariness.

And yet, you have half the nerve to concern yourself with Leon.

As you turn, you quickly see that he is struggling. He’s cornered, stuck between a stretch of the building that allows a swift gateway of those creatures to buckle within arm’s reach. And there’s little solace as you learn the fact, as you ready your weapon — you’re aiming before you can think, firing before you can feel.

Leon spots you, as his jaw goes slack.

His voice is swollen with disbelief and you’re sure you catch the words “get out of here!” but you’re moving on the pure pump of your blood, of the stretch of muscle and skill in your body. Two, three, four enemies crumble at the bite of your bullet and your fingers sink against the sting of gunmetal.

Memorise the step of their movements.

Formulate an opening.

Ignore Leon’s snare and his warnings and the way his arms curl around his weapon and the look in his eye and the fickle hope in them and the way they look at you like you’re something wounded.

Ignore the way a grunt sounds in your ear, a pale and cleft palm clinching your shoulder like an orifice — and finally, you realise, Leon had been right.

The zombie is quick to remind you of your mortality — it swings you to the side with it’s astounding asperity, frightens you with the dexterity of its bones as it makes quick work of the distance between you. It’s teeth stitch against cold bone, blood and meat between the gaps.

You gasp out a hoarse cry — your weapon is out of reach and your arm stings with a burn, a swelter. Your leg feels numb and you’re sure you’ve caught it on something, and you’re convinced you’ll be half mauled to death, when suddenly,

“Shit!”

Leon rattles through the zombie towering you, sears it with a knife — it falls atop you like meat and you shove it off with awfully numb hands. You’re barely catching respite as Leon hauls you above his shoulder as he runs to some place else, and the world quickly melts beneath your eyelids.

The next time you’re conscious, it’s much quieter.

There’s a dripping noise from your right — you try to play with that recurring sound till you’ve figured your bearings, but the throb in your head is searing. Your leg jumps with a pain so awful you choke a cry when you’re all opened eyed and slack jaw, and you catch sight of Leon in front of you, balancing your leg atop his lap for inspection.

“L-Leon?” you gasp, feel the burn of your throat. You’ve said nothing but he quickly hands you a water bottle, and you allow yourself the contents almost immediately — “Where are we…?”

“A few ways off the target location. Recuperating,” he answers, too quick, too harsh. You wince, both from his demeanour and the growing image of your maimed leg — the skin is dented with much blood, the flesh peeling apart with ease and the pain hits you like a train. His fingers are trembling and spat with your blood, moseying around the quiver of the wound.

And you can’t figure out where your pain ends and where his anger begins.

For one, there’s some grip to his movement, in the way he bandages the broken flesh of your leg. The way he swats your hand away when you go to dictate the amount of hurt it would bring.

Only then does he look up and your breath hitches — his eyes are red rimmed, mouth set like hard stone in a frown and his jaw sharp, blistering to a furious degree.

“I’m sorry—“

“Are you? Because you would’ve been dead without me having been there” he spits out, lashing against your apologetic words. You press your lips together, a bitter feeling fermenting in every space your framework can produce.

“I said I’m sorry Leon.”

“Will that fix your wound?” He grates and his voice sounds like a threat. It worries you. It angers you. Its rends you like glass, cuts you like a skiver.

“Maybe if you didn’t look at me like a fucking wounded animal, I would quit taking my chances at dying” you force out, tone through clattering teeth when his fingers pause over that delicate and awfully repulsive spot on your leg.

“What?”

“Oh, please don’t play pretend with me Leon,” it’s your turn to hit the brakes, “It’s that look you give me — like I’m some backwater D.S.O rookie here to drag you through glass. Like—Like I’m here to get myself killed.”

You pause, breath cut short with an unsatisfactory cry as you throw your head back from the gushing pain from the wound. You crack open a weary eye to spot his movements have resumed, but his jaw is quivering, jagged, his eyes unfocused and his hair in his face.

Shit, shit, shit — I’ve really done it now.

“Wait, Leon—“

“Is that what you think this is?”

You blink — his fingers are on the ground beside your hips, his eyes flooded with disbelief. Much like earlier, only this time, it’s counterpart being woe instead of anger of disappointment. He lifts his head, cradles the anguish in his eyes with a tattered sigh and you realise, oh. You had it all wrong.

“That you’re just some agent I don’t care about?” he’s close, somehow, “that—that I care for you out of duty?” closer, now, with his breath on your neck, on your face, in your ear, “That I don’t want you gone so soon because I only tolerate you? Not because—I like you?”

Your anger drops its futile act.

“What?” you whisper, because you’re so beguiled that it’s a trick. A trick from the pump of adrenaline in you, from the fear. The sweat. But he’s looking into you, at you, and his stare is not sympathetic. It stinks of love and admiration and truth and some close call of fear.

“I’m saying that I like you.”

There’s a few moments of clouded breath. You’ve never done this before — never held this song and dance of emotion between another and certainly not at a time like this, but god, Leon looks at you like you’re something to be worshipped, not admonished like the wounded thing that you are.

He looks at you like hope.

Like love and love and love.

And you’ve never appreciated the stench of rot on you or another, and you’ve never appreciated distractions. But the burn of his lips against yours is delicious and swirling with something addictive when you meet him with nothing but rigour — he kisses you back like he’s meant to, like he’s going to run out of you if he doesn’t.

And when you pull away, groaning as your leg spasms with hurt, you smile at him gently, curve a laugh from your overworked lungs.

“Buy me dinner first, Kennedy.”

“Kennedy?”

“Would you prefer Scott?”

“God, you’re awful.”

#leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #leon x reader #resident evil x reader #resident evil x you #leon scott kennedy x reader #leon kennedy drabble #leon kennedy fic

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jaylleoo14 · 7 months

Text

An Octopus's First Impression

I have so much brainrots but im not a good enough writer to put them into actual stories and stuff😭 AHHHH TEH PAIN (If it isnt obvious enough I have low confidence in myself with my writing ability TT) But yes, Hello! This is going to be my debut as a twst writer and perhaps for other fandoms too<3 for now I am most comfortable writing for twst though, but please do enjoy your visit on my page!

Azul has yet to make a proper introduction to you

Part II

>GN!ReaderxAzul

[disclaimer] A rather desperate and calculative Tako

[characters] Azul and the other sillies that get in his way X3

When you first arrived at NRC Azul was surely not one of the individuals you'd paid mind to. The first dorm leaders that made their appearances known to your acknowledgment first was Vil because of his striking awe-stunning and jaw dropping beauty, Kalim because of his outward friendliness and radiating-welcoming personality, and lastly Riddle because of his fierce strictness to follow the school rules accordingly (And along with other respective proper and prim mannerisms and clothing rules to abide by whenever your paths were crossed)

Idia of course did not make his presence known and you literally did not know of him only until later after meeting Orthro, and even then you've only heard of him and never actually seen him. I mean cmon, who has honestly?

Leona is always hiding away, lazing around somewhere as he naps away into his own comfort so you dont even encounter him until some magical fateful day, but thats a story for another time :)

Although perhaps meeting him already when everyone is asleep, you arent really formally introduced to Malleus. So until then, you technically havent met Malleus for multiple reasons that are rather lengthy to list.

And then there's Azul. oooooh boy. Despite how interested he is in you regarding your sudden magical predicament and trying to approach you, you somehow always seem to be going astray from your interactions with him

He's tried to approach you, ensuring he'd give a lasting impression on you as he's heading on over to greet you properly

though things dont go as planned when Lilia is suddenly snatching you away to go entertain a certain activity of his out of nowhere

Or when you're being chased by a random Savanaclaw student with a bread bun in your mouth and Grim buried in your side as your arm wraps around him securely, holding about 4x amount of food in his paws (Cater in the background taking pictures of this and posting it on his magicam #delinquent #hungry for some breadbunz #Getting chased #My junior is so cute and trouble some #Uh oh trouble!)

Perhaps if it weren't for those troublesome classmates of yours, ah yes - Ace and Deuce - then you wouldn't be stuck in a tree branch right now with that troubling huntsman below you trying to help you down and he would by now be shaking hands with you

Why are you just all over the place?! You've already met with that Lazy Lion when all he did was sleep on the floor and you miraculously tripped over him, resulting in him catching you in his arms before you fell face first into the hard cobblestoned floor! He didnt even do anything to try and approach you so why is it that despite all his meticulous planning on trying to approach you and make an appearance, it just never happens?! Not only that but you're now indebted to that second prince just for you to do him a solid and fetch him a meat sandwich. Seriously, what a waste of a perfect opportunity

Do you perhaps already know who he is? Is that it? Are you actively trying to avoid him?! You're stressing him out already here Prefect, hello?! Its very important for a business man to expand his connections, you know. You two have never even properly met! Now that wont do at all, he must make his appearance now. Especially when you can offer that lovely little dwelling of yours for a branch of his add on of the Mostro Lounge with some talking and persuasion of course :)

He's been carefully looking over your schedule, trying to figure out what classes you go to at what time and when; will we be able to cross paths here? What about when you head on over to your chem class? You have lunch with who and where? Noted, now he can definitely prepare to approach you now. Is he desperate? Of course not, he's just ought to give you a proper greeting is all! Its not weird that he's trying to remember your schedule and trying to talk to you and-

You're in the library, studying up on some topics you don't quite get in your history class. The library was rather quaint and tranquil, a nice aesthetically pleasing place to help you go over your lessons and to study. You had a test coming up in Professor Trein's class and that was something you did NOT want to fail in again. Failing once or perhaps twice or maybe even a possible third time but who knows was already enough to bring your grade down to get a harsh scolding from Riddle and a sympathetic look from Trey

Your face all in the book, your notes plastered and sprawled out on the side where they rest on the table, and your other needed stationary next to you, you were in a environment where no one was around for you to focus up and study hard

Well, no one around except for Azul

Perfect! This is a great opportunity to approach you now! No one is around and he can even talk up into having you indebted to him by helping you study! This situation is rather perfect if he says so himself

A confident look spreads across his face as he walks on over to you, a perfect and professional air surrounding him

"Good evening Prefect, It's a pleasure to finally meet your acquaintance. I do apologize on interrupting your study session here but I would like the humbling experience to introduce myself."

A nice and firm smile is sprawled on his face as his hand is outstretched towards yours to make a formal shake. You look up from your book and stare at his hand, soon taking it as you sit and ponder only for a second

"Oh, aren't you that guy who couldn't get above 10 inches off the floor while riding his broomstick?"

Crack. After finally being able to introduce himself for GOD KNOWS HOW LONG, you know him for THAT?! For sevens sake! Not as Octavinelle's Dorm leader, BUT "that guy who couldn't get above 10 inches off the floor"

God he wants to go curl away and hide now. His hand flinching as you mention so but you keep a firm hold on his to give him a proper shake, a little oblivious to his faltering demeanor

"I think Floyd mentioned you before too. You're that boss running Mostro Lounge he said right? I think he said your name was-"

"Azul Ashengrotto." Clearing his throat a little before he continues "It's a pleasure to meet you (y/n)" Azul is quick to regain his composure and returns the firm hold. How strong you grip and how long you shake is incredibly important in dealing with business, especially when wanting to make lasting impressions to expand your social networks

In his mind though he wants to quickly eradicate that impression you have about him, and thus he asks to join you - to which you complied - in hopes of overwriting and hopefully making you forget that horrific thing you witness regarding his flight skills

And of course Floyd just had to meet you before he did. Its not really surprising considering his boisterous personality and extroverted behavior when in the mood, but perhaps Jade has also met you then too. Considering that those two tend to be near one another

No, of course he's not feeling bitter that even those two slimy eels met you first. Of course he's not feeling a little irritated that they didnt try to strike you up into making a deal with him. Or maybe the fact that whatever those two were doing they'd at least try to make you two meet! Afterall, he did tell them to send you over once due to his interest in you. But he then adverts his attention back onto you when mention how you are currently studying for an upcoming test

You dont know him at all yet, so you let yourself be completely vulnerable. Looking like the smart and reliable gentleman that he is, you ask him to help you study. Oh how you make it so easy for him, he didnt even need to offer!

With a pleasant smile on his face, his slick and gloved fingers pushing up the frame of his glasses, he happily accepts with a sweet tone in his voice as you both sit together and go over the lessons together

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myers-meadow · 2 months

Note

Wifey, can I have a hug, and maybe perhaps som Halsin fluff headcannons, I’ve had a stressful day 😭

I need wifey comfort 🫀

my beloved💞,

I hope you are okay 🥺💗 and that tomorrow will be better! It needs to be. for you!! 🍀

(BLESS YOU @mercymaker FOR THE GORGEOUS GIF)

Oke oldfashioned, sweet Halsin comfort !! got it ✨

You come back from a day at camp, immediately sitting down to rest your weary legs. They hurt and have been bothering you all day. Knowing you, you probably waved off your companion's concerns in the morning, and are now no longer able to ignore the pain.

Halsin sees you, and your grimace at the pain, you don't have to say a word.

"Do you want a hug, my heart? I can carry you to wash up, if you like." His voice alone is the greatest comfort. You only nod, holding your arms out to him. He carries you like it is nothing to him. Once you're at the river, he brings you what you need to wash up (steals Gale's softest towel), and leaves you to it. You seem overwhelmed, so he thinks it best. In a moment, he will look you over, herbs and spells at his fingertips. He brings back sweet snacks too, and bread and cheese, so you can get some of your strenght back.

He sets it all out in front of you, almost hoping to distract you with the food, so he has the time to look you over properly without you fussing that you're fine. He borders on too worried, but that's how he shows his love for you, so you let him. As soon as another companion approaches, either with questions about the next quest, or with requests for your attention, one look of him is all it takes to send them trudging back to their tent. They can figure it out by themselves, tonight.

As the night air cools you down, he wraps you in his arms, and brings you to your bedroll to lay down. If that is too out in the open, he takes you to his tent instead, shielded from the others, close to the edge of the woods. You feel at ease there, its comforting. Halsin smells like dirt and leaves, his warmth is all around you.

Nothing is too much for him to ask. Anything you want, he will get for you. A massage, of course, consider it done. Food, wine? It's already by your side. With him, you can rest easy. He sings you to sleep with a soft hum, and you feel the movement of his breaths in his chest, against your back as he spoons you and holds you close. A dreamless sleep is granted you, knowing that if you wake up, he is there for you.

As a bonus, for your listening pleasure, here are voice lines of Halsin aiding the player, in and out of combat. The whispered ones are a great highlight <3. Imagine he is healing you right now <3.

youtube

#ask #bg3 #bg3 halsin #halsin silverbough #baldurs gate 3 #halsin bg3 #halsin #halsin x tav

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unexpectedbrickattack · 1 year

Note

Now hold on a gosh-diddly-darn minute, I noticed the entire time talking about a tipsy Peppino no one thought to ask this but what about tipsy GUS? I mean we saw him a li'l tipsy in the fastfood saloon escape, can I hear your thoughts about that/him please? Have they ever gotten tipsy together?

(I just like the mental image of the two alone, just being real giggly with each other (Gus just says "hey" and Peppi starts giggling which sets Gus off giggling) and being sappy goofs with each other <3)

HEEHEE u are so right and i am so sorry for withholding this information from the masses 😭

My homebrew for gnomes is that they are simultaneously hardy folk (able to eat virtually anything and immune to most poisonous creatures) AND extremely intolerant of alcohol. Theres no reason for that, i just like it alot :)

So Gus would be an extreme lightweight 😭 its SO bad; he cant speak clearly at all, he cant walk straight, he has the Worst hangovers and he wont remember anything from the previous night. The line between ‘pleasantly buzzed’ and ‘blackout drunk’ is so thin that Gus doesnt even try social drinking. If he MUST drink, it will be in the comfort of his own barebones apartment 😭 at least, until Peppino started hanging out with vigilante and his crew.

Gustavo LIKES drinking! Its just hard to find a good balance, and THATS bc he simply doesnt know how alcohol works. Peppino is like:

“Look ‘ere. All of these have a number somewhere on the bottle. Or a percentage. Lower the number, the better it is for you.”

Gustavo is like !!! Oh!!! That is very helpful! What would you recommend for me then?

“Probably…2-5%. 5-10 proof. Small 'a numbers.”

Gustavo nods, interested. He points at a bottle he recognizes from the last time he came here and got shitfaced. “That one up there; do you know how ‘a strong that one is? Or should i ask the bartender?”

Peppino squints at the company label. “45%.”

“Oh!” That makes sense. “Well what do you usually drink?”

“70%.”

“Oh!”

Peppino recommends some of the LIGHT light wines, the ones that barely have a hint of anything. Theyre sweet (which Gustavo loves so very very much) and for the first time in a very long time, he Stays buzzed instead of immediately faceplanting into being blackout drunk.

Hes very. Playful. Is what Peppino would describe a tipsy Gustavo. He hesitates to use the term ‘flirty’ because that is not whats happening. But hes like. Clearly entertaining some gruff looking men like five times his size as they ramble drunkenly about random shit like ‘waow….thasso cool…and then what happened???’

Its funny at first bc Gustavo is so fucking TINY that all you can see of him, in the group of men as they yapyapyap about some inane shit that Gustavo wont even remember, is his tiny little tail 😭 It is less funny, however, when Peppino catches himself rambling about work and Gustavo is like (ears perked; tail swaying) ‘mmhmm. wrow…thats ‘a kinda nice…what else did you do??’ Peppino is like *buffering* (‘something is happening right now that will need to be addressed at a later time. Do not forget DO NOT FORGET. URGENT!!!!’)

Otherwise Gustavo is just a silly guy. Vigilante will make a joke and he laughs so low and deep that he sounds downright villainous 😭 Peppino will point out something stupid on the TV and like hours later Gus is like ‘…heeeuehuuueee…..do u remember [insert stupid reference] and Peppino will giggle. Peppinos affinity for throwing around ilus are met with Gustavo going ‘😊😊😊😊😊😊😊😊😊😊😊😊’ with absolutely no way to even pretend to mask it.

Gustavo has fun being out in the saloon but he really enjoys drinking in Peppinos house. Its not nearly as loud as the saloon and theres usually homecooked foods like breads and soups (Because Peppino stress-cooks ALL the time). Brick gets to stay indoors instead of waiting outside the saloon, so Gustavo gets to mess with his soft fur contentedly. He just gets to be cozy; its quite nice 😊

#answered #chattin #///#////#/////#gustavo #peppino #pepstavo #alcohol #drinking #i still have to answer that anon asking about pepstavo hcs so i hope this helps a little fhjdbdjdndkd #additional context is that; gnomes stay mostly in the forest. so theres not alot of outsider influence #gustavos a bit of a traveller; he likes exploring and seeing whats outside the forest. and he usually comes back with goodies #alcohol is just one of those things he tried during a trip or two and it always fucked him up #never looked into it; some shit is best left alone lmao #unrelated to that #but the alt though that peppino had; i was going to say (something el gee bee tee is happening…)#which made me laugh but i cant make him say stuff like that fhdjbdjdjdjd #also note that Gustavo does not drink often at all; he will accompany peppino to the saloon and let him get tipsy w his friends #he will entertain their silly shenanigans and bring Peppino home when theyre done #and if hes hanging out at peppinos house he will lounge around listening to peppino blabber about nothing #and drink some ciders :)#he only drinks like. 10% of the time. hes a social drinker but ONLY when he feels like it #and ONLY if peppino is with him #ALSO ALSO #IMPORTANT #you must know that Gustavo is NEVER sitting while in the saloon #he is standing on his barstool w his hands on the countertop

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sopiao · 6 months

Text

Regarding my last ramble post, I am sorry to inform that it is now all I can think about now, and now it's all you can hear from me. CUZ OML.

I was just thinking back on it again and thought about beefy farmer boy König. JUST THINK ABT IT.

Farmer boy König that always wakes up super early to do his chores and errands. Driving the rusted blue truck to the town square to restock on groceries and food. He'll have his little sticky note of things that you asked him to bring back. Stuff you guys don't produce like sugar and honey, since you two produce you're own food.

Stuff like bread that you bake yourself, jam you mash on your own, milk that König fetches, eggs from the hut, and butter that you season to your liking. Although he does indulge in his own little interests, looking at sturdier and shinier. And occasionally a more comfortable and flashier collar for your farm dog, Ace.

And sometimes he’d come back to you with a new dress he saw on the market that he thought would look great on you. A linen white maxi dress that he found so beautiful with you wearing it when you ran around with the cows and Ace.

—

König’s way of keeping the baby cows and sheeps in when they somehow get over the fence is throwing them over his shoulder and softly plopping them to the inside of the fence.

I don’t know that was just a good visual to me 😭

—

König tends to the crops and the plants, making sure there aren’t any weeds or contaminated areas. Making sure it’s always well watered and the soil is always making sure they’re all pruned and taken care off. And he’s always proud of the outcome. Healthy fruits and veggies he’s delighted to see used in meals.

But what he’s most proud about, aside from you, is his garden. Picks out the most beautiful assortments and pallet of flowers. And makes sure they’ll bloom in time for your favorite season. König loves picking out the most developed and vibrant colored ones, making sure to cut out the thorns and little branches

And when he presents them to you, he lives for the happiness on your face and the way your eyes light up at the newest arrangement.

—

This man is so unbelievably burly and huge, that when winter comes and it gets cold, you don’t need a radiator or heater. All you need to do is squeeze yourself in front of him and pull his shirt up to enter yourself between him and his shirt.

—

König always comes home tired and hungry after a long day’s work. So, he’s always super eager and ready for the dinner you prepared. He’s super clingy so he doesn’t allow you to sit on the other side of the table, instead just picking up the chair— along with you— next to his seat and slides your plate next to his so you two can sit next to each other.

—

100% has fallen asleep in the field at one point. You found him laid back against the grass with some of the other farm animals napping around him.

#call of duty modern warfare #cod fanfic #cod mw2 #cod men #task 141 #cod headcanons #cod modern warfare #konig mw2 #könig mw2 #konig x reader #könig x reader #könig fanfiction #könig headcanons #konig headcanons #konig imagine #ghost mw2 #soap mw2 #price mw2 #kortac

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devilbrakers · 8 days

Text

was tagged by @gothimp to do this tag game!

tell me about...

01. a character you love.

dante... :). i'm sure everyone who follows me at least knows OF him fdjsklf. but he's a mercenary who specializes in the supernatural, mainly demons. he is sooooo silly but also so riddled with sadness and grief. i have an art board of him sitting on top of my aic box set rn

02. your favourite food from your culture.

fry bread my fuckign beloved.... it's such a comfort food to me especially when my dad makes it. also german style pretzels are always a joy. i love carbs 🫶

03. what your dream apartment / room / house is like.

a decent sized house that i can live in with my friends :). not too big but enough space to not be cramped. but i'd also settle for an apartment. also would love to have a spot to display my record player/record collection

04. your personal style or aesthetic.

i'm not as fashionable as i'd like to be ig? i'm broke and also get overstimulated by fabrics pretty quickly so i keep it simple for the most part. my clothes are usually soft and baggy since that's the most tolerable for me. oversized t-shirts and flannels, or hoodies. i usually wear sweatpants if i'm out but just loose pajama pants if i'm at home. but i'll occasionally wear stuff like this if i'm going out with friends or smth.

05. a happy memory.

so there's this quarry close to where i grew up that i went to with friends a lot before they moved away. we'd get food and go hang out on the peak or close to it. it was simple but i always really enjoyed it.

06. your favourite way(s) to spend time.

playing video games, writing, painting, watching movies/shows with my friends on teleparty, making edits, baking, etc

07. story behind your url / title / quote / description / icon.

devilbreakers are a weapon nero uses in dmc5! missing a letter bc the proper spelling is being hoarded 😔😔😔. my title is from the crow which is my favorite movie

08. something that comforts you or brings you joy.

my cat!! she loves pasta, scrambled eggs, and sitting on the couch like a person 😭

09. what you’re looking forward to.

honestly not much atm 🥲 i have an mri coming up that'll maybe give me some answers but we'll see fjdkslf

10. something else that’s important to you.

i can't think of anything so here's bob <3

tag list (opt in/out): @numbaoneflaya @katsigian @dmc4 @opaleyedprince @mrs-theirin

@celticwoman @vvanessaives @theonlyadawong @aztarion @quickhacked

@ebongrove @pitchmoss @hibernationsuit

#thank youuu nes <3 #tag #SORRY if u got tagged twice it was being weird

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catindabag · 4 months

Text

TBOSAS on Crack short take (68)

*We need tents, bro* Read [this] first.

Mizzen: Yo, Blondie, when will the food man arrive with my salmon? I’m

Starving.

Coryo: For the last time, Mizzen, we just have to wait-

Mizzen: I’m done waiting! Where is my salmon and lemon sauce?!

Coral: Gremlin, shut up-

Mizzen: Where is Mr. Salmon and Mrs. Lemon sauce?!

Coral: Mizzen, stop-

Mizzen: Where are they, Sea Witch?!

Coral: Ugh. I’m not dealing with you today.

Mizzen: *is now shouting at the sky* Mr. Food Man, where art thou?!

Coryo: It’s been 5 f*ckin’ minutes since we called the Pizza Palace! Your stupid salmon can wait!

Mizzen: But-

Coryo: We haven’t even ordered Dill’s Green Bean Casserole and Wovey’s pie from the other store!

Mizzen: Mr. Salmon-

Coryo: My sweet boyfriend is still on the phone negotiating with some bastard wearing an ugly pizza clown suit for Panem’s sake!

Mizzen: Mrs. Lemon Sauce-

Coryo: *turns to Sejanus* My love, the little gremlin is bullying me!

Sejanus: *is still on the phone* Mr. Cheesy Clown, could you please wait- No? What do you mean no?! My gorgeous fiancé is getting bullied by a kid right now- What do you mean by difficult?! I’m not being difficult! You’re the one who won’t sell me a f*ckin’ salad for 10 bucks- Hello? Hello?!

Coryo: Babe, what’s wrong?

Sejanus: My Coryo, my love, the ugly clown from the Pizza Palace just hung up on me!😭

Coryo: The audacity! Should we sue?

Sejanus: Hug me! I’m sad!

Coryo: Come here, Seji Pie.

Sejanus: Yey! *hugs Coryo*

Coryo: *comforts a “sad” Sejanus* There, there. We can just order again from the other Pizza Palace across the street.

Sejanus: Can we order some bread?🥺

Coryo: Are you going to throw it?

Sejanus: Yes. I want to throw bread at that mean pizza clown, my love.

Coryo: Sure. Whatever you want, Babe. We could even do it tomorrow after class.

Sejanus: We should throw 2 breads-

Lucy Gray: Why do you want to throw freshly baked bread at a clown?

Sejanus: Because it’s the right thing to do.

Lucy Gray: I don’t get it.

Sejanus: Because that f*ckin’ clown is dead to me!

Lucy Gray: What?

Sejanus: He’s dead to me!

Lucy Gray:. . .☹️

Sejanus: Isn’t that right, my love, my Snow Angel!😍

Lucy Gray: Coryo-

Coryo: It’s a District 2 thing.

Tanner: Really? Throwing bread to the “dead” is a District 2 custom?

Coryo: Yes. Yes, it is.

Tanner: That’s bullshi-

Marcus: Blondie isn’t lying. I even threw bread at Sejanus before he left D2 for good-

Sejanus: That was a gift!😭

Marcus: No, it wasn’t! You and your evil scheming old man are dead to me now and forever!

Sejanus: Marcus, you meanie!

Marcus: I’m not Marcus!

Sejanus: Sabyn, help me!😫

Sabyn: Sorry. I can’t and won’t. You and Mr. Plinth are technically dead to me as well.

Sejanus: Coryo, hug me again!😭

Coryo: My love, calm down. I have to call the other store and order Dill’s casserole-

Mizzen: Can we order bacon pizza? I never had bacon pizza before.🥺

Coryo: No.

Mizzen: Bacon pizza-

Coryo: Ask your Mentor.

Mizzen: *evil smiles* Ok.😈

Dill: *coughs* By the way, are you guys only here to provide us food?

Coryo: And water.

Dill: That’s not the point.

Coryo: If you want beer or posca, just ask Anderson or Dennis. Those two will give you a crate for free.

Dill: What about our other essential supplies?

Coryo: Other essential supplies?

Dill: You can’t expect me and Wovey to just sleep on the ground without pillows. We want pillows.

Lucy Gray: And I want love-

Sejanus: We can’t provide you love.

Treech: We don’t want your stupid love! We want gear!

Otto: Outdoor equipment!

Coryo: Like what?

Dill: Beds, blankets, pillows-

Circ: Television!

Teslee: A clock!

Lamina: Firewood?🥺

Panlo: Portable toilets!

Ginnee: Torches and marshmallows!

Hy: *coughs* A doctor.

Lucy Gray: Hair curlers! I want hair curlers and makeup!

Coral: Duct tape. The largest and strongest one that you can find.

Coryo: Why would you want me and Sejanus to buy you duct tape?

Coral: So that I could shut Mizzen’s mouth at night.

Mizzen: I heard that!

Coral: *turns to Mizzen* Go to your corner and stay there until the sun sets!

Mizzen: No!

Coral: Then shut up and cry!

Mizzen: No bacon pizza for you!

Coryo: One extra large duct tape it is. Anything else?

Coral: An ice box for my beer and some good quality rope.

Coryo: Sure. We’ll give you 2.

Coral: Thanks.

Treech: How about a birdcage?

Coryo: Why do you want a birdcage?

Treech: I’m allergic to rainbow colored birds.

Lucy Gray: Hi.

Treech: Shoo! I’m allergic!

Lucy Gray: Let me sing you a free song about the birds and the bees instead!😀

Treech: Leave me alone, you weirdo!

Lucy Gray: You can’t ignore me and my songs forever, Treechy!

Lamina: Can I have a box of tissue?

Coryo: We’ll order a truckload just for you.

Lamina: But-

Coryo: Do you want 2 truckloads?

Lamina: Make it 4.😭

Coryo: No problem.

Brandy: I want a knife.

Coryo: No weapons allowed.

Brandy: A sandwich maker.

Coryo: Too expensive.

Brandy: A talking bird.

Coryo: Lucy Gray is enough.

Brandy: A spoon?

Coryo: Ask your Mentor.

Sheaf: Can we just order some high quality camping gear instead?

Coryo: You guys want a tent?

Dill: A big tent would be nice-

Jessup: A neon green inflatable tent that glows in the dark!

Lucy Gray: A dome tent with a recording studio inside!

Treech: A tunnel tent that can fit in my pocket!

Sheaf: A yurt that can accommodate 40 raccoons and a bear!

Panlo: Ew. No. I don’t want to share a yurt with a bunch of rabid rat-dog creatures every night!

Sheaf: Panini-

Panlo: They might have rabies!

Sheaf: It’s gonna be fun!

Panlo: For you! Not for me!

Sheaf: Don’t be a coward!

Panlo: *turns to Coryo* Blondie, do me a favor and ask your sugar daddy-

Coryo: Boyfriend.

Panlo: Ask your clingy sugar daddy to buy us 24 cabin tents and some comfortable sleeping bags before the day ends.

Coryo: I have to ask the Class President first-

Panlo: Please! I beg you! I can’t deal with these people anymore!

Marcus: And I can’t deal with that “thing” hugging you all day.

Coryo: What thing?

Marcus: *points at Sejanus* That thing.

Sejanus: Marcus is so kind and so shy around me. It’s so cute.☺️

Marcus: Ew.

Coryo: But it’s just the first day-

Panlo: I was stuck with them on that ugly ass train for 3 straight days, sweetheart!

Sejanus: Coryo’s my sweetheart!😠

Panlo: Go back to crying!

Sejanus: Babe, Bread Boy Pablo is hurting my feelings again!😭

Panlo: Blondie, please!

Coryo: Fine! We will go to the Capitol Home Depot later and buy you your tents!

Hy: *coughs* And sleeping bags.

Coryo: Cute or simple?

Hy: Simple-

Sol: Cute! We want cute!

Hy: No. Listen to me-

Sol: Blondie, my partner is sick. He’s asthmatics. He doesn’t know what he’s talking about.☺️

Hy: *coughs* That argument doesn’t make sense!

Coryo: Cute it is.

Otto: And don’t forget 5 pillows each.

Coryo: That’s too many-

Otto: 5 flower pillows. Don’t argue with me. I’m right.

Coryo: Fine.😑

Sol: Coloring books.

Coryo: That- *whispers to Sejanus* Babe, are coloring books allowed?

Sejanus: As long as they’re pro Capitol or pro Ravinstill.

Coryo: *turns to Sol* We’ll buy you a box of cheap crayons and a Bichon Frisé puppy coloring book.

Sol: Ok.😢

Ginnee: How about romance novels and banned books? Are they allowed?

Coryo: Odyssey or Iliad?

Ginnee: Twilight.

Coryo: No.

Circ: Television.

Coryo: No.

Circ: Television. 32 inches. Flat.

Coryo: Can’t.

Circ: I won’t bother you again.

Coryo: It’s still a no-

Circ: I will cry.

Coryo: Fine! We will buy you your f*ckin’ flat screen TV! Happy?!

Circ: Very.

Teslee: Yey! Best escort ever!

Coryo: I’m not an escort.

Tanner: Whatever you say, escort.

Coryo: I’m Birdy’s Mentor!

Lucy Gray: And escort!

Sejanus: My escort!😍

Facet: Can you buy me a hot pink tent? I want to sleep fabulously.

Coryo: Sure. Sparkly or shiny?

Facet: ✨Sparkly✨.

Velvereen: Can mine be a huge white PVC wedding tent?🥺

Coryo: No. That can’t fit inside the tribute’s enclosure.

Velvereen: How about a medieval cube tent with an electric fan?

Coryo: Do you want to add some weird raccoon tapestries to make your little royal abode more cozy?

Velvereen: Please.

Coryo: Anything else?

Wovey: Monopoly.

Coryo: Which version, sweetie?

Wovey: Cheaters Edition.

Coryo: Ok.

Bobbin: Posca.

Coryo: A bottle or-

Bobbin: A crate.

Ginnee: Make that 3.

Dill: *turns to Reaper* Hey, Reaper, do you want anything?

Reaper: *is still busy praying* Panem, give me the normal one. The normal one who’s rich like a Ravinstill but not a Ravinstill.

Dill: Reaper-

Reaper: Give the f*ckin’ Ravinstill to Dill instead! Give it to her!

Dill: Not again.😑

Coral: Watch and learn, Shorty.

Dill: I’m not short-

Coral: Yo, Ash from the trash!

Reaper: Are you talking to me?!

Coral: Yes, you!

Reaper: Say that again! I dare you!

Coral: Ash no cash, what do you want from Blondie?!

Reaper: A one way ticket home!

Coryo: Not available.

Reaper: Normalcy!

Coryo: Sorry. That’s impossible.

Reaper: Sleeping pills!

Coryo: Ask your Mentor.

Reaper: Your pretty ✨feet pics✨!

Coryo: Heck, no!

Sejanus: You better watch out, Reaper. You better watch out!

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buckys-little-belle · 2 years

Note

k i know you don’t write for them, but you reblog the marauder boys so much 👀 so i was wondering if you would write for them? i have this idea that the reader has a bad relationship with their family 😭, like never goes home on holidays and never gets mail, never wants to talk about their childhood, and the boys ALWAYS wonder why. remus, because he’s so smart 😌, reads lots of books, and he has heard of regression, and realizes that the reader is one because they want to remember being happy as a kid and when little they feel happy and then maybe the boys ask to be their care giver and let them be a happy baby all the time and remus is happy because he feels so out of control when turned and now he feels good and maybe james is a little? and sirius is the fun dad? and it’s like a little family at hog waters and they just all alllllll are happy?

Happy Family

The Marauders x Little!Reader (They/Them pronouns) (Cg! Remus, Cg!Sirius, Little!James, Little!Reader)

Warnings - Vague talks about family issues, vague talks about childhood trauma, they all eat meals, food, crying, angst, but very much fluff and comfort as well!

Notes - I did change this up a little, just time wise, it’s the same thing, I just know your ask could be decoded and analyzed a different way for a different storyline, this is just what I came up with! I did try my best, I’m super new to writing these three, and I’m very sorry if it’s not good!

SFW - Please keep all interactions with this post, and with this blog, SFW.

- - - - - -

The grand hall was loud, conversations coming from each angle as students ate, the murmur of plates moving, and the sound of footsteps seeming to be constant. The first dinner of the year was always a wild one, new students buzzing, old students getting back together, and people eating as if they had never seen a bread roll before. “Hi, could I sit here?” A voice called out, Remus, Sirius, and James looking up towards the person.

Y/n stood frozen, a deer in the headlights sort of moment, their robes tousled, their eyes panicked. Remus spoke first. “Yah sure.” He said, gesturing to the seat beside himself, James and Sirius opposite of him on the other bench, both shocked that someone was asking to sit instead of just sitting, after all it is one big table full of people. “You’re.” Remus began. “Sorry I forgot your name.” He adds, genuinely embarrassed at his lack of information.

“Um, I’m Y/n, yah I kind of keep to the back of the class, so I don’t expect you to know me.” They hurriedly said, sitting down and reaching for a bread roll, their eyes immediately searching the room.

“Are you okay?” James asked, his eyes following where Y/n had gone, now looking at the Ravenclaw table.

“Oh, Yeah, don’t mind me, sorry for sitting here, I missed the train and someone sat in my usual seat.” They rambled, stuffing the bread roll in their mouth hurriedly.

“Slow down there.” Sirius laughed, watching Y/n eat as if it was their last meal on earth.

“I just want to get out of your way quickly is all.” They muffled, mouth stuffed, looking at Sirius with panicked eyes, hoping they weren’t bothering him.

“If you leave quickly how are we gonna be friends?” James asked, his smile suddenly replaced with a frown, his mind slowly going foggy, wondering if he was doing something wrong.

“Oh.” Y/n said, realizing they hadn’t even taken a second to recognize that the boys weren’t angry at them, that they actually enjoyed their company for some reason.

Remus picked up Y/n’s plate, looking down at them. “What do you want to eat?” He asked, Y/n’s expression growing confused before James interrupted.

“He has long arms s’ he gets our food.” James smiled, digging back in to his dinner.

“I like everything, can you just make sure the foods don’t touch please?” Y/n asked, looking over the different dishes placed along the table as Remus began platting the different foods.

“Hey that’s ten points!” James shouted excitedly, looking at Y/n with pure excitement. “Do I get to share points with them?” He asked, turning to Sirius.

Sirius whispered to James, the boy now back to eating, dropping the prior topic. “Here.” Remus said, handing Y/n the plate, all the foods separated, a good few millimetres between each different one.

“Thank you.” They said as hey began eating too.

“Ten more points.” James whispered, hardly above hearing level.

“So Y/n, what classes do you have this semester?” Sirius asked, the three boys turning their attention to them.

Y/n reached into their pocket, pulling out a tattered piece of paper, one that was wrinkled and had a few rips. “This term I have potions, Apparitions, Herbology, and then.” They paused, pulling the page closer to their face. “I actually don’t know what class I have last, sorry.” They sighed, a wave of defeat washing over them.

“That’s okay, I can get you another paper for tomorrow morning.” Remus said in between his own bites. “Sorry, I don’t think we introduced ourselves I’m-“

“Remus, Gryffindor prefect, your James, Gryffindor’s Quidditch captain, and your Sirius, you-“

“You can stop there.” Sirius smiled, not wanting to know what label he had been given by the general public.

Y/n nodded, placing a bite of food in their mouth and then looked across the room. “Are you looking for someone?” Remus asked, the three boys now looking at the Ravenclaw table, scanning it for whatever Y/n was scanning it for.

“I have a younger cousin, Henry, it’s his first year I just want to make sure he’s okay.” Y/n laughed, the first genuine laugh they had heard from them. “He’s fine, he’s the one standing on the bench there.” Y/n pointed, their finger pointing to a young boy standing on a bench, telling a story very dramatically.

“I wonder what he’s saying.” James asked.

“He’s probably just talking about his dad, he works with dragons.” Y/n mumbled.

“No way!” James yelled. “Actually?”

“Mhm.” Y/n said, clearly not wanting to talk about it, James looking to Sirius when Y/n didn’t perk up at the mention of dragons. “I actually have to go, I have a thing to do.” They stood up, putting their piece of paper back in their pocket and giving a weak smile. “Thanks for the company.”

Before the boys could say anything Y/n had run off, Sirius and Remus sharing an all knowing glance, James just getting back to dinner, knowing ten points awaited him if he ate all of his vegetables.

- - - - - -

“Y/n!” Sirius shouted down the hallway, trying to catch Y/n to give them a new schedule. Y/n finally stopping and turning, looking surprised to see him. “Here.” He said, handing them the paper. “I put a protection spell on it so it shouldn’t get ripped again.” He smiled, slightly out of breath. “Well, Remus did, but he’s not here so I can say I did.” He laughed, making Y/n smile and chuckle in response.

“Thank you, tell him thank you.” Y/n said before turning around again, walking away.

“Why don’t you?” Sirius asked.

“What?” Y/n turned back around.

“At dinner, sit with us again.” Sirius said, standing in the middle of the hallways like a fool, a slight plead evident in his voice.

“I don’t want to-“

“You aren’t going to bother us I promise.” He smiled. “Just think about, okay?” Y/n nodded in response, finally leaving to get to class.

- - - - - -

“Are they coming?” James asked Remus, the boy just shrugging his shoulders as a silent answer.

“Hi.” Y/n said, sitting down beside Remus, just like they had the first night.

“Hi.” The three boys said in unison. Remus talking alone next. “What do you want tonight?” He asked, picking up Y/n’s plate.

“You know you don’t have to put the food on my plate right?” Y/n smiled, the smile not quite reaching their eyes, but seemingly getting the job done.

“I know, I just.” He paused and sighed. “I like taking care of people, so just let me do this.” He smiled, putting food on the plate, making sure the food was separated from each other.

“Wait can you-“ Before Y/n could ask for the food to be separated their plate was put in front of them on the table, the food separated perfectly. “Thanks.” They confusedly mumbled.

“So what did you do last night?” James asked, the two other boys cringing, they wanted to know, sure, but they knew there was a time and a place to ask such personal questions.

“Um, I just read a bit before bed.” They smiled, picking around at the food on their plate.

“Don’t play with your food, darling.” Remus said nonchalantly, as if it was second nature, the nickname shocking Y/n slightly.

“Sorry.” Y/n apologized, looking at their plate to figure out where to start.

“I always eat my veggies first, because then I get ten points.” James whispered loudly, trying to keep his words hidden from Sirius and Remus, but failing to do so.

“What are points?” Y/n asked. “Like house points?” They looked to both Sirius and Remus, flipping between the two, both boys giving each other a look, seemingly arguing with their eyes.

“No, Um.” Remus tried to begin, trying to explain their situation without making Y/n confused.

“What did you read last night?” James blurts out, having checked out of the current conversation a while ago, now just asking whats on his mind.

Y/n, who was mid bite, mouth full of vegetables, eating them because they desperately wanted know what the points meant, something both Sirius and Remus picked up on, paused, their eyes going wide. How do you tell three nice people who are maybe your friends that you read childrens books in your spare time. “Just some short stories.” Y/n answered, proud of their cover up.

Remus chuckled, the excuse exactly what James used to say, before they boys knew he was a little. As if on cue, James began speaking. “Oh, I like short stories too, my favourite is the muggle book ‘Frog and Toad are Friends’!” He smiled before shouting. “Toad Toad!”

“Wake up. It is Spring!” Y/n shouted back, laughing with James, them locking eyes before shouting in unison. “Blah!”

“So you read kids books, in your free time?” Sirius questioned, trying to make sure what he was hearing was right, Y/n immediately shrinking into their seat at the question.

Remus placed his hand reassuringly on Y/n’s back, a gestured allowed by the bench seats having no back rest. “He’s not making fun of you.” Remus gave a quiet chuckle. “Maybe you can borrow some of James’ books.” He offered. “Which books do you have?”

Y/n’s eyes lit up at his words, feeling accepted for the first time. Their mind swirling, finally figuring out that Sirius and Remus were caregivers, James just like Y/n an oddly comforting fact. Quickly though they once again sank back into themselves, their mind telling them they won’t be welcome back after this, the boys most likely not wanting another person to care for. “Um, just the toad one, but I don’t want any others.” Y/n quickly stood up, a few tears gathering in their eyes. “I really don’t want to bother you, thank you for dinner.” They said, before running off once again.

“Why do they do that?” James asked as he saw Y/n practically run out of the grand hall for a second time.

Remus turned his attention back to James, Y/n figure now out of sight. “Well.” He began. “You regress because you had a good childhood and want to feel that happiness again, where Y/n regresses because they had a bad childhood and want to experience being happy when being a kid. It might be hard for them to be happy with us because we remind them of a family and the bad memories of their own.” Remus explained, sounding like he read the words out of a book, because in all actuality most of it did come from a book.

“That’s really sad.” James confessed, laying his head on Sirius’ shoulder. “I hope we get to see them again.” He said, missing the person he had met two days ago, their company already something he longed for.

“Why don’t we buy them a book tomorrow when we go to Hogsmeade?” Sirius suggested, trying to cheer James up, which he successfully did.

- - - - - -

Y/n sat in their dorm room, the castle just gaining back it’s noise, the rest of the students away all day, off shopping, while Y/n did homework and read a book, sad that they couldn’t go, no permission slip signed in sight, but happy for some silence, and no roommates nosing their way around their stuff. “Y/n?” A voice called from behind their bedroom door, a hesitant knock following it.

Y/n stood up, their wand in hand, not sure who would be calling on them, especially since everyone had two more hours left on their trip. Y/n opened the door, peeking from behind the wood, met with the three boys, James upfront, a large bag in his hand, Sirius stood behind him, his hands on the boy’s shoulders, and Remus stood behind the two of them, slightly out of sight.

“Hi?” Y/n cautioned, opening the door more so they could be fully seen.

“Can we come in? We have gifts!” James beamed, walking past Y/n before they could answer, sitting on the floor contently, waiting for everyone else.

“Sorry about him, he’s excited.” Sirius said, walking in, sitting behind James on the floor, his arms going around the boy, whispering something in his ear.

“I’m sorry about the both of them, can we come in?” Remus chuckled, still stood outside of the room, his eyes sincere.

Y/n just nodded, a weary smile on their face, unsure of the reason for the visit. “Sit! Sit!” James cheered, gesturing to the floor in front of him and Sirius, Y/n sitting down quickly opposite of him, Remus sitting beside Sirius instead, the three practically viewing Y/n as if they were on display.

Y/n placed their hands in their lap, their fingers immediately intertwining with each other, fumbling over one another. “How was your trip?” Y/n questioned, trying to ease the awkward silence that had settled.

“It w‘s great!” James began. “We got you this.” He said, handing the paper bag to Y/n, who just placed it in front of themselves, unsure if they should open it right away, their focus stuck on the bag.

“Darling?” Remus questioned, causing Y/n to look up at him, a few tears threatening to spill. Remus frowned, shuffling to sit next to Y/n, his hand now placed on their back. “Why don’t you open it?” He suggested, Y/n nodding.

Y/n reached in, their hands hitting something hard, their fingers grasping a book. “ ‘s the second Frog and Toad book!” James beamed, a large smile plastered on his face. “You din’ want to borrow m’ books, so we got you one.” He mumbled, his back falling further into Sirius’ torso.

Y/n didn’t answer, their sniffle the only sound heard in the room. “I don’ want it.” They whispered, a few tears now rolling down their cheeks as they stood up. “I know you’re jus’ bein’ nice, i’s not fair.” They cried, stepping away from the boys to create distance.

“What do you mean ‘it’s not fair’?” Sirius questioned, sitting up straight, his eyes fixed on Y/n.

“You have James, you don’ want me, an’ you jus’.” Y/n sputtered. “I really like the book, and i’s jus’.”

“Y/n.” Remus began, cutting them off.

“No, i’s unfair, you’re jus’ feelin’ bad f’r me.” They cried, tears streaming down their cheeks as their bottom lip quivered uncontrollably.

“We don’t pity you Love.” Sirius said, his eyes genuine, his tone filled with sorrow. “Me and Remus want to take care of you, you’re sweet, you have great manners, and you get along with James.” He added.

Remus gestured Y/n to sit back down, them taking up the spot right next to him, no longer wanting distance from them. Remus’s hand went to their back, a gesture Y/n had grown to love and look forward to, the feeling comforting. “I know you’re unsure, it’s scary to trust new people.” Y/n nodded their head. “So why don’t we just take it one day at a time, okay?” He asked, his hand rubbing comforting circles on their back.

“C’n I eat wif’ yous at dinner then?” They asked, their gaze meeting each of them, as if asking them each individually.

“YES!” James cheered, genuinely excited for someone to play with. “Please.” He added.

“You can stick by our sides all you want Love, you’re apart of the family now.” Serious smiled, the rest of them following, the four of them sat their like a bunch of fools, smiling at each other, excited to start the new journey, excited for dinner that night. The little family taking things one day at a time from now on.

#buckys little belle #age regression fic #little!reader #age regression #marauders x little!reader #marauders x reader #marauders #remus x little!reader #remus x reader #remus lupin #sirius x little!reader #sirius x reader #sirius black #james x reader #james x little!reader #little!james #james potter

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