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ellieluvr420 · 4 months

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Friends? Never. Pt.7 (Ellie Williams x reader)

SYNOPSIS: You and Ellie had been bitter enemies for years now but before that you were best friends. You had always planned to be roommates one day but when that becomes a reality the situation isn't exactly how you both imagined it.

SMUT mdni, brief mention of attempted SA, story-typical violence

It had been two weeks since Ellie had come back from patrol injured, Maria gave you leave so you could take care of her and it had been a nightmare for the full fourteen days, Ellie never once making life easy for you and proving herself to be the worst patient in all of history. Nevertheless, you still managed to get through it and today was your first day back on patrol. If you said you weren’t nervous you would be lying and if you said you were nervous solely because of the attack two weeks ago you would also be lying. You had been up all-night pacing and fretting about being away from Ellie for a whole day, you were so angry that in the space of two weeks you had become dependent on her company but there was nothing you could do to rationalise with yourself, so you paced, and you bit the skin around your nails raw and possibly pulled a couple clumps of hair out, you had yet to look in the mirror and assess the damage but when you walked into Ellie’s room where she was sitting eating breakfast, you knew it was bad.

“Why do you look like that?”

“Like what?”

“Bad.”

“Wow thanks.”

“Oh come on you know what I mean.” As you sit on the bed and lean in to peck her lips, she holds your face close to hers to whisper: “You always look beautiful, but you don’t look well.” She kisses you once again and leans her forehead on yours as you smile bittersweetly at each other.

Since your first kiss you had spent every second together, the little bubble surrounding you both was tinted pink and the second you walk out the front door for patrol you know the feeling will be ripped away from you. You had spent every night watching films, making dinner together once Ellie was mobile again and you had even started taking it in turns reading your book to each other. The new definition of your relationship was undecided but the air around you both was heavy with want. You had been holding yourself back because of Ellie’s condition and Ellie had been holding herself back because the irrational fear that she would somehow infect you if you had sex was at the forefront of her mind, sometimes she’d even hesitate to kiss you before remembering that it was okay. Things were calm and quiet, and you almost forgot the real world, almost.

“I’m fine El, I just didn’t sleep much last night.”

“Then you shouldn’t be going on patrol, you won’t be able to focus, tell Maria you can’t.”

“Okay so I tell Maria I can’t patrol because I’m tired, how do you think she’ll react?”

“... Okay fair enough but I don’t like it.”

“You and me both.” You gaze at her face that had the last remnants of some green and brown bruises as well as the stitched cut across her freckled cheeks that was healing well as you cup her cheek. She takes your hand in hers and kisses at your knuckles before tightening her grip and holding your fingers for her to inspect. “Wait, No Ellie.”

“I fucking knew it you liar, you’ve bitten them raw. Are they sore?” You snatch your hand away from her with a shameful look on your face as you avoid eye contact.

“No they’re fine. And I’m fine, I gotta go though so I’ll see you later.”

“What time will you be back?”

“Five-ish.” You both go quiet as the memory of that day dawns on each of you, you watch as panic flashes across her face. “Hey, it’s going to be okay, there’s a big group of us going today and we’re sticking together. They managed to get us walkie’s somehow, so we’ll be able to stay in touch with each other and Jackson, okay?”

“Okay.” She sighs and you kiss her check before walking to the door. “Be safe.” You look back at her and flash a solemn smile.

“Always.” You keep walking without looking back again for fear that if you did you would never leave, so you don’t look back until you’re on Greg and riding out of Jackson to your first checkpoint.

“Haven’t seen you in a while.” Lacey smiled at you. You were often on patrol with her, so you had become good friends. Her black curly hair was pulled up into a messy bun and her brown eyes sparkled with a hint of curiosity. Lacey was beautiful with her glowing deep-brown skin that only looked more heavenly in the sunlight that was beating down on you all. The first thing you noticed about her was her beauty but as you got to know her you found she was strong and kind. She was the first person you told about your sexuality and she was the first person after Maria that you told about your parents kicking you out.

“Yeah, I got given leave because my roommate got really hurt in the attack the other week, so I was taking care of her.”

“You were taking care of Ellie; I would have loved to have been a fly on the wall for that.”

“How do you know I live with Ellie?” You had barely seen Lacey since moving in with Ellie because of everything that’s happened so you hadn’t had a chance to tell her, for a second you wondered if you would have told her even if you had seen her, but you push the thought away before you let it distract you.

“Everyone knows.”

“What?”

“Oh come on, you two are sworn enemies and now you live together, everyone’s a little interested on what that’s like. So, fill me in, is she secretly buried in the backyard right now?” She grins at you playfully as you shake your head and chuckle.

“Well, um, she’s not dead yet.” You choke out a small laugh and immediately feel consumed with guilt as Lacey laughs with you. You don’t know why you said that. What you wanted to say is it’s been the best thing that’s ever happened to you, but your mouth wasn’t connected to your brain.

You had been to two out of four checkpoints and you were approaching your third now, a small holiday town with large cabins and a couple shops and bars, whenever you came here you always tried to imagine what it was like before the outbreak but your mind can never conjure up a picture and it frustrates you more each time. The actual checkpoint is one of the furthest cabins from the entrance to the town, so you check each building you pass on your way to it. There were seven of you today and each person seemed more on edge than the next but other than a couple stragglers you had been okay so far. You felt stupid for relaxing a little the second one of your men went down and bullets started raining down on your group.

“FIND COVER NOW!” You scream to the rest of them and as you sprint past Finn lying dead on the floor something inside you flips and you’re no longer consciously acting, all your movements were controlled by the need to get back home to Ellie safely as you dived into the first cabin on your left. Immediately you pull your handgun out and check your pocket to catalogue how much ammo you had. You quickly but carefully check each room downstairs. If you had been calm and collected you would have went upstairs first knowing that you’re more likely to find someone there than downstairs, but you aren’t calm and collected, you’re panicked and running entirely on adrenaline. You hadn’t realised how easy it was for life to end, how quick, you had always pushed the thought of death away knowing it was all too possible in the hostile world you lived in, so you chose to stay ignorant to reality. You were content with your decision, until you hear the creak of a floorboard behind you. Without a second thought you spun round firing your gun twice, you watch as the figure that you had shot at dove towards you showing you his grisly face. You fire again but he’s too quick, slamming you down to the ground and climbing on top of you, pinning you down. You glance at your gun that had been hit out of your hand and was now sitting in the corner of the room, mocking you. He smiles like the cheshire cat as he runs a knife down your face before reaching for the walkie talkie he had attached to his hip.

“Boys come to number 7, I’ve got a pretty one.” He speaks into the walkie talkie before turning his attention back to you. “I’m gonna enjoy this.” He begins reaching to unbuckle his belt and your body turns cold.

Get home to Ellie.

You lean up and smash your head into his and as he groans with a disoriented expression, you deliver a hard punch straight to his nose.

Get home to Ellie.

You push him off you and scramble away as quick as you can but his hand latches onto your ankle, you let him pull you closer and then kick him hard in the face which allows you to wriggle free again.

Get home to Ellie.

This time you manage to make it to your gun, immediately shooting him straight in the foot. He bellows out as he goes to the ground and you watch as you grab your walkie talkie.

“Come to number 7, be discreet and be ready, there’s a group of them and they’re all coming here. I’ve got one already.” You walk over to the now writhing man and jam the gun into his stomach. “WHO ARE YOU?!” You screech out. His silence angers you more so you slam the base of your gun down onto his temple. “Start talking or I break your arm next.”

“I’d like to see you try.” He chuckles and the arrogance sets something off inside you, in one swift motion you hold his right arm up, his dominant one you had noticed, and stomp down onto it until you hear a loud crack and see the creamy white of his bone poking through his upper arm. The scream he lets out is inhumane, but it was music to your ears.

“You’ve got a minute or I break the other one too.”

“FINE, fine, we spotted your town a couple days ago, we were gonna take you guys as hostages to make them trade us for supplies.”

“Oh so you’re raider scum.”

“We’re survivors just like you, you ain’t better than us just because you live in your fancy, cosy town.”

“If you wanted supplies, you could’ve just approached the walls, we help anyone that needs it. That’s why we’re better than you.” As you finish speaking Lacey burst through the door dragging an unconscious man by his foot, she brings him to be in line with the man before you and drops his foot. The rest of your team follow, bringing in three more guys between them. “Two of you go find stuff to tie them up with.” You look back at your group that were waiting eagerly for what you next had to say. There was no leader in patrol groups, but they were listening to you like you were.

“How did you find us?” You turn your attention back to the men sat before you, the conscious ones each exchange looks. You slam your boot-clad foot into one of the men brought in by your team.

“Look at me. How did you find us?”

“People talk, pretty town like yours, shit like that makes the rounds.” One of them pipes up. He’s clutching his side, and you notice the blood seeping from between his fingers, you walk over to him so you’re towering over his hunched form.

“What people?”

“Met a girl and her friends, said they’re looking for a guy who lives there but they don’t know where it is, only that it's in Wyoming. They’re on their way too but we move faster than most, we just wanted supplies.”

“Did she say the name of the guy she’s looking for?”

“Nope.” Your face turns dark as you raise your gun to his head and shoot him in a split second, the thump of him hitting the floor coincides with Lacey and Raphael coming back into the room with all the stuff they found. They all look at you as though you have two heads.

“He was bleeding out, would’ve been deadweight.” They nod and start getting to work tying the rest up. They go to tie their feet, but you stop them. “We’re taking them with us. Maria’s gonna want to interrogate them about this. I’m gonna radio Maria and tell her we’re bringing back hostages. The rest of you watch them, they move you shoot but not to kill, got it?” They all nod, and you walk to the next room along to contact Maria.

“We’re heading back now, we’re at Mountain Valley, we got ambushed by raiders and we’re getting ready to transport them now, they’re talking about a group that are on their way to Jackson looking for someone, figured you’d want to talk to them. We had one casualty, Finn, he went quick.” Your voice trembles but you take a deep breath to hold it together.

“Okay, well done, he shouldn’t have died but six is better than none, don’t beat yourself up, it’s not your fault.” Her bluntness had always been refreshing but now it was causing bile to rise up your body, you push the feeling down and concentrate on replying.

“I’ll see you at the gates.” You can’t acknowledge what Maria said, it doesn’t feel right, so you focus on getting the raiders ready to take back to Jackson. You all load them onto your horses, tying them to the reins and then climb onto your horses also. Lucas volunteered to take Finn on his horse so his family could say goodbye and he could be buried in Jackson. You, Ben, Mick and Lacey each have a raider on your horse, so you climb on behind them and jam your guns into their backs as a warning. The ride back to Jackson went by in a flash and before you know it, you’re approaching the slowly opening gates of home.

Ellie was standing at the gates of Jackson, when she walked, or limped, over there it was 4 PM, she knew she’d likely be waiting for some time, but she couldn’t sit at home waiting for you to come back any longer. She finally understood your reaction to her coming home late because you weren’t even due back yet and her anxiety was the worst it had ever been. She figured waiting at the gates would be better than waiting at home but as she approached the gates and saw Maria standing there as well as a large group of guards, she felt uneasy. The atmosphere was calm but foreboding and she couldn’t understand why there were so many guards just standing and waiting. She walked over to Maria who looked stunned even before she was faced with Ellie who she wasn’t expecting to be out of bed let alone at the gates.

“Maria, what’s going on?”

“They got ambushed by raiders, the scumbags got Finn, but they managed to take them as hostages, they’re due to be back soon.”

“Why are they bringing them back?”

“She didn’t say.”

“You spoke to her?”

“Yes Ellie, she’s fine.” Ellie felt her cheeks flush at Maria’s obvious awareness of the situation between the both of you, but the thought is wiped from her mind when she hears yells to open the gates. She moves as quickly as she can towards the crowd of people, mimicking your movements two weeks prior, shoving and pushing past people to get to the front. She watches as you ride in on Greg with a man hunched over in front of you, she makes no attempt to move, just watching the scene play out before her.

Two guards walk over to you as you climb off Greg and reach up to cut his ties to the reins with your knife before yanking him down where he lands on the ground with a thud and an ear-piercing screech. “You bitch.” She hears him spit out and she can’t contain the small chuckle that leaves her lips when you kick him once on the arm he was already clutching. He writhes and cries and as he turns, she sees the white of his bone protruding from his arm. She’s watching intently as she surveys the damage done to him until she notices your eyes on her.

You weren’t expecting Ellie to be at the gate, especially not since you were early but the sight of her standing there staring back at you releases all the tension in your body. You were home, with Ellie, everything would be okay. You go to start walking over to her but Maria steps in your way putting a hand on your shoulder. “I need to speak with you.”

“Wait- Can I-”

“Now. Let’s go.” She pulls you by your arm and as you catch a glimpse of Ellie over your shoulder you mouth ‘I’m sorry’ at her before letting Maria yank you away from the crowd.

Ellie watched Maria dragging you away and her guard immediately went back up again as she subtly started to follow you both. You walk round a corner, out of sight, and she darts to the edge of the building that would shield her from yours and Maria’s sight as she focuses on trying to listen to your conversation while wincing from the sudden movement.

“Not a word of this to anyone. Seriously, not Ellie, no one.”

“Alright I got it. Are you worried?”

“I haven’t decided yet.”

“Who do you think they’re looking for?”

“I don’t know, do you think they’re not letting on everything they know?”

“Maybe, I’m not sure.”

“Well we’ll find out won’t we.” Ellie panicked as she heard footsteps coming her way, she once again darts round the other corner of the building so she’s out of sight of whoever is about to walk past and as she watches Maria storm away she creeps back round the building until she’s met with you, standing staring at the floor as you bit at the skin around your nails.

“Are you okay?” You jump but relax as you see it’s Ellie approaching you.

“Yeah, hi, I’m okay.” She pulls you into a hug that neither of you feel ready to leave so she speaks into your shoulder.

“What the fuck happened?”

“Fucking raiders.” Your voice is muffled by her chest but she can understand you fine.

“Sorry about Finn. You know it’s not your fault right?”

“Yeah I know.” You were lying but it was easier to lie than have this conversation right now.

“Why’d you bring them back?”

“Thought Maria should decide what to do with them.” You both know you’re lying but she leaves it for the moment.

“Come on, let’s go home.”

“I actually had a better idea.” You pull away from her with a cheeky smirk as she cocks an eyebrow at your tone.

You’re sat in a booth with Ellie at the Tipsy Bison nursing your fifth drink of the night, you had been there for an hour and a half. You recognise the first few notes of one of your favourite songs: ecstasy by the crooked stills, and you gasp before jumping up and standing in front of Ellie. “We have to dance to this.”

“I’m good.”

“That wasn’t a question.” You grab her hand and gently but firmly pull her up and onto the dancefloor with you. Despite her reluctance her hands immediately find their place at your waist, sqeezing a little, as you begin to sway to the slow song together. You arms that are round her neck pull her closer to you until your bodies are pressed together and your head is resting on her shoulder.

Ellie feels her cheeks redden as she realises you two are in public and dancing together, so closely too, but as she looks up, she breathes a sigh of relief that no one’s eyes are on you both. It wasn’t that she wanted it to be a secret but she felt like she was under a magnifying glass whenever she was out and now was no different. She notices you shifting until your face is back in front of hers where she meets your lidded eyes. You’re drunk and she knows that so she had only had one drink to make sure she could watch you, she wanted to let you blow off some steam but the thought of being drunk like you were now unsettled her. Her eyes widen as you lean in but they shut as she relaxes into the kiss. You lick at her bottom lip and she opens her mouth so her tongue can collide with yours and the kiss deepens as you cock your head to the side slightly and push your body impossibly closer to hers. As you both pull away she looks at you with a giddy expression, she hated being the centre of attention but knowing that you just kissed her in front of everyone here makes her beam with pride, until she notices your eyes aren’t meeting hers, they’re fixed over her shoulder and your eyebrows were scrunched together in a cruel scowl. She glances over her shoulder and when she sees your parents standing there both red with scowls that matched yours she realised you kissing her in front of everyone had nothing to do with her. You were using her to piss off your parents and she felt more hurt than she had two weeks ago after the attack from the horde.

“Are you fucking serious?” She pulls away from you leaving almost a foot of space between you both.

“What?” You feign ignorance, she shakes her head and chuckles drly before storming away from you and out of the bar.

“Ellie, wait up! What the fuck is your problem?” You slur as you chase after her, despite the limp she was moving impressively quickly. As you catch up to her she spins around with fire in her eyes.

“YOU! You’re my fucking problem.” You stand completely taken back by her rage as she begins walking off again, the guilt consumes you in an instant as you begin trailing behind her, keeping your distance, knowing you had been caught. It wasn’t like you only kissed her because your parents were watching but that fact doesn’t make what you did any less awful. The walk was slow and long despite Ellie storming as fast as her injured body would take her and when she reaches the house and enters she slams the door behind her, right in your face. You enter cautiously and close the door behind you quietly as you see her stomping up the stairs. You flinch as you hear her bedroom door slam and prepare yourself for the worst as you turn the doorknob and shamefully slip through the door. “Get out.”

“No, let me explain.”

“Get out.”

“No Ellie, just listen please.” She moves towards you at lightning speed and pushes you against the wall holding you there, she was rough but she wasn’t trying to hurt you. Her breathing was deep and fast as she stared you down with dark eyes. Neither of you spoke, you didn’t know what to say and all Ellie wanted to do was scream so you both stayed silent and frozen in your places. She takes in the sight of you hungrily as her mind is is contemplating her next move. Just looking at you makes her angry but as she takes in your appearance, something else takes over.

She smashes her lips into yours so hard it almost hurt as your teeth clash together and her tongue prods at your lower lip. Her hand finds its place around your neck and squeezes until you gasp so she can invade your mouth with her tongue, her hand remains wrapped around your neck squeezing more gently this time as you moan into her mouth. She snaps away from you and pulls you away from the wall before pushing you down onto the bed face first, you go to flip over to face her but her knee over the arch of your back stops you. “That was fucked up.”

“I know Ellie, I’m sorry.”

“Shut up.” She grabs a handful of your ass and kneads at the flesh. You hadn’t seen this side of Ellie, even when you would bicker day in and out, she still seemed like Ellie. This wasn’t Ellie. You feel her knee leave your back but you don’t move, afraid that if you anger her more she’ll leave you pent up and frustrated. You just watch as she looks down at you taking in your body from this angle before hooking her hands round the waistband of your trousers and underwear, she meets your eyes and for a second you see your Ellie in there. “You wanna do this?”

“Please.”

“You’re gonna regret that.” She yanks everything down in one swoop leaving you completely bare from the waist down. She grabs your hips and yanks them up until you knees bend to support the new position. You feel vulnerable knowing she can see everything right now but you feel safe regardless as you watch her eye your heat with a lick of her lips.

You gasp and jolt as you feel her rubbing two fingers up and down your slit gathering your slick and spreading it all around. Her free hand holds you in place with a bruising grip on your hip as she surveys your face to check you’re okay. She was so, so angry at you but the thought of hurting you almost made her stop for a second, she only didn’t because of the quiet whine that left your lips as you wiggled your hips at her slightly trying to signal what you need.

“Ask for it or you’re not getting it.” You roll your eyes before sighing and accepting defeat on this one occasion knowing that if there was ever a time to not hit her with a snarky rebuttal, now was the time.

“Please fuck me, Ellie.” Your words set something off inside her and she immediately plunged two of her long fingers inside you as the other hand left your hip to rub tight circles harshly on your throbbing clit. You groan at the sudden intrusion as you push back, your needy hole sucking her fingers in even deeper as you shudder. Her hands were bigger than yours so her fingers reached places you never had and the feeling had your eyes rolling back in your head. She curled her fingers to abuse your sweet spot as her assault on your core only quickened, your body was on fire as you trembled and moaned. “Oh fuck Ellie, please... keep going.” You can barely get the words out through bated breaths and a mixture of groans and moans as you clamp your eyes shut focusing on chasing your high that was racing at you like lightning. “I’m so close oh my god.” As quick as your release approached, it dwindled away as Ellie removed her fingers from you and flipped you over.

She could barely feel the achey pain in her body as she stared down at the prickly expression on your face. You open your mouth to question her but before you can she slips her fingers that were shiny from your arousal into your mouth, making you gag as she pushes them in to the knuckles.

“Didn’t I tell you to shut up?” She uses her hand in your mouth to manoeuvre your head into a nod that she can’t help but smile at. It was the first time you had seen her smile since you started dancing at the bar so the sight warmed you until her face dropped once again. With her free hand she yanked down her bottoms in the same fashion she did yours before climbing on top of one of your thighs to slot you both together at the hips. She brings the thigh she isn’t straddling to rest over her shoulder as she bites at your calf, you wince at the sting, but the pain is immediately replaced by pleasure as she begins to grind herself down onto you, hard and fast. Her face screws up as her eyes clamp shut ignoring the way yours were staring holes into her as she chased her high. Your moans became muffled to her as she uses you to get herself off. You’re seeing stars as her hips begin to stutter in their rhythm but once again, the feeling goes as quick as it came as she finishes with a guttural groan and stills her hips on yours.

“No, no, no.” You whine to yourself as you throw your head back in frustration until you feel her climb off you and yank you up from the bed so you’re standing in front of her. She doesn’t wait before she spins you around and starts walking you backwards to the door. As you realise what she’s doing panic takes over and you wrap your arms around her in a death grip as you plead with her. “No, please Ellie. Come on, let’s talk. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” She reaches the still open door from earlier and pushes you off her past the doorframe. She slams the door in your face before she can even see you stagger from the force of her push.

You consider storming back in there but decide now wasn’t the time before dragging yourself to your room where you shut the door and immediately curl up on your bed as you pull the covers over yourself. You hug your knees tightly to your chest as the tears begin to fall. You had sex with Ellie, for the first time, and she kicked you out afterwards without a second thought. You weren’t angry, you understood why she did it, but it didn’t hurt any less.

You fall asleep still hugging yourself tightly trying to pretend it’s Ellie’s who’s embracing you and that you aren’t alone right now. But you are.

tags: @emiliabby @readbydayana @radioheadfan699

#ellie the last of us #ellie tlou #ellie williams #ellie williams tlou #ellie smut #ellie williams angst #ellie williams fanfic #ellie williams fluff #ellie williams imagine #ellie williams smut #ellie williams the last of us #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x you #ellie x fem reader #ellie x reader #ellie x you #tlou ellie

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yourheart-inmyhands · 9 months

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hii silly ask anon back with another silly ask😓 (before i continue tysm for answering the last one i enjoyed it sm!!🫶🏻) how would yan!zhongli, pantalone (help me i love them) and childe react to darling going absolutely feral with rage anytime they are near😭?

like they’ll get home and be like “i’m home pookie💗” and reader will scream their head off crying and throwing stuff at them

this is so long sorry but could i be 🐚 anon?

ofc you can! the more anons the merrier :D also this is such an interesting thought because there are so many different ways for the yandere to reaction in a situation like this and it's certainly not talked about enough with the diverse types so i hope you enjoy :D

Warning: this post contains yandere-themes, including delusional behaviors, implied being held against will, force-feeding, mentions of being drugged, and other potential topics. Please read at your own risk!

Yandere!Zhongli would be well prepared, readying his shield before getting within arms reach of you. It really does come in handy for your more unruly days and he appreciates its usefulness. While he doesn’t want to see you enter the mindbroken or emotionally numb state, he’s worried that he might not have any other choice but to push you to that, lest you calm down otherwise.

“Fret not dear, it’s merely food. If you flip it over again I’m afraid I’ll have to go back to spoon feeding you.” Zhongli enters the room with a plated meal for you, setting it down at your feet. His shield was already activated, the faint glow from Geo illuminating the room as you glowered up at him. Your spot on the floor, chained down for your safety and his, was not ideal but for now it was practical. Mixed with the low lighting of the room and its generally chilly temperature, Zhongli hoped to create a strong feeling of isolation, one that would slowly drive you insane. If need be though, he had other options for breaking you, he just preferred this one. It was the most humane after all.

Yandere!Pantalone would only tolerate it for so long. He can replace all the furniture and decorations in his home with less easily broken replicas until you calm down. He can sleep in bed at night while you slept in a cage built into the walls of the closet. He could eat his meals alone while you starved in another room, too busy fretting about it being poisoned, that all he could tolerate. But the screaming was something else.

No one in Zapolyarny Palace heard your screams and wails, and those who did were ordered not to pay mind to it. It was a wasted effort that had Pantalone often sitting with his head in his hands, trying to find some sort of solution. He had run across a few temporary ones, a sleeping agent from Dottore for night time, sound proof walls in his office for business hours. But nothing could help him outside though hours, like at dinner time. You were kept in a separate room strictly for feeding due to the mess you often made, while Pantalone sat alone at the empty kitchen table. The home in general looked devoid of life outside the small inhabitant of Pantalone. This was because it was supposed to be your home, but you were often too busy throwing a hissy-fit to enjoy it and Pantalone was getting really sick of your behavior.

Yandere!Childe would take it as a challenge, playfully wrestling you to pin you down so he could feed you during the day. You could kick and scream and punch all you want, he’s taken worse and won’t stop until he’s physically unable to move. The screaming doesn’t bother him either, he just thinks you need more time to adjust is all.

Another day, another miserable feeding session. You were currently pinned underneath Childe, the ginger having pinned you to the floor with your hands held tightly to your chest as he slowly fed you bites of a sandwich. Any attempts to spit them out would be met with a pout, he had worked hard to make it for you ya know, and any attempts to not eat would be met with a quick pinch of your nose to force you to open your mouth. The worst part was possibly how normal Childe acted about the whole thing, chatting amicably to you about his day as he shoved bits of food down your throat. One time you had kept spitting food at him and in response he covered your mouth with his hand to prevent you from continuing the childish act. You had bit down as hard as you physically could on the male's palm just for him to not flinch and continue his silly little stories like nothing had happened. Being stuck with this guy was hopeless for you.

#genshin x reader #genshin x male reader #yandere genshin x reader #yandere genshin x male reader #zhongli x reader #zhongli x male reader #yandere zhongli x reader #yandere zhongli x male reader #pantalone x reader #pantalone x male reader #yandere pantalone x reader #yandere pantalone x male reader #childe x reader #childe x male reader #yandere childe x reader #yandere childe x male reader #yandere genshin #yandere zhongli #yandere pantalone

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precious-little-scoundrel · 2 months

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|| What Took him so Long?

Summary: For a long time I’ve wanted a comfort fic dealing with Bucky’s arrival in camp and the assumption that once he got there, found his men and was relatively safe, he had a big adrenaline crash and needed a ton of loving care. So I wrote it into this world.

Note: I wrote so many of the boys for the first time this time and, well, it was fun but have mercy I’m new here

Continuity: This segment follows the events of First Night

Thanks: I owe dear @hogans-heroes a lot for helping me sort my screams about multiple different aspects of this fic and for how much depth they’ve added to my own love of these guys. Also to @ab4eva @blurredcolour and @crazymadpassionatelove

Warnings: usual universe warnings apply, 18+,additional graphic recounting of past violence and rape, descriptions of injuries from the same, angsty conversations and misplaced blame, the boys trying to give all six foot two inches of dead weight Egan a bath

“It’s Ida,” Brady’s nimble hand was deceptively strong when clutching Gale’s bicep and shaking him to wakefulness early in the morning, “she won’t fuckin’ respond but she’s bowin’ up ‘till I think her neck might snap.”

Well that got Gale tumbling out of his bunk, out from Maureen’s hold on his face, swollen thumb on his tongue. The hell had he been thinking last night? The raucous noise of his landing to his feet woke the others, Crank instantly startled at their hovering over Ida.

“What’s wrong?”

“Dunno,” Gale replied, staring down at Ida Brady who was suddenly quite still again, “when’d the jerks start?”

“About an hour ago. She didn’t move before that.” John reported and Gale was sure it was an accurate report as Brady’s eye bags suggested he’d not even slept a wink. “She’s cold but she kept seizing so I stopped holding her.”

Gale bit his lip and tried to recall how pale was deathly pale, or just, pale. He bent over her and placed his fingers against her pulse, relieved to find a strong heartbeat in her neck. Maybe too strong, but he wasn’t about to start picking apart mercies. He was trying to measure it to his watch’s third hand when she started again, neck truly so bowed beneath his fingers he understood the impression of it close to breaking. He took his hand away discomfited and by this time Crank had joined them to stare down at her but those eyelids didn’t even flutter.

“We shoulda called a doctor last night.” Crank fretted, “She wasn’t just tired, not after what she’s been through.”

What she had been through was not something that had been discussed really, and so, it had been happily tabled as a past occurrence when she came in last night and toppled into the bunk straight after showers. Now their silence on the topic seemed like the sort of lethal discretion that kills amongst “polite” societies.

“Well, let’s get one now.” Gale snapped, “Crank -find the one who sewed my cut. Vega, I think, Vargas, something like that. He’s here, in the south compound.”

“You got it major.”

As Ida quieted again, Gale tried his hand at her pulse once more. A few moments later she was writhing in her sleep again.

“Since she seizes everytime you touch her, how about ya stop touching her?” Demarco’s word of wisdom filtered in from his bunk.

Chastised, and with shared looks of alarm at their foolishness, Gale and Johnny retracted their hands to clasp behind their backs and waited in that mock parade rest until the doctor came in, dark expression on his face and a very deflated medical bag at his side.

“It’s one of the women?” he asked, shouldering between the two men.

“Yeah, our colonel.” Gale supplied before relaying in brief terms the timeline of her stay here, her symptoms, her rather obvious injuries.

“We might be dealing with a concussion,” the Doc warned upon inspecting her face, “how’d she get these?” he asked about the swollen cheek and torn temple.

Gale turned to Maureen who still sat in her bunk, quiet, oddly quiet. “I saw her get punched once, I think it was on that side. But it wasn’t so bad, the rest happened when they took her away from us.”

Doc Vega was inspecting the rest of her as he pulled the covers down, her shirt flaps up, bruises and more bruises visible and -“She’s bleeding through her pants. Is this a cycle or-?” He turned to Kendeigh expectantly and she only shook her head, making Brady turn away with a wounded noise and walk a convict’s lap around the table, breath shuttering out in rough huffs, fists shoved into his pockets. Maureen wasn’t sure how anyone expected to get on top of such emotions, much less a bother. She was sure as soon as she had energy for it, she’d start making some Germans pay, it didn’t matter which, someone needed to pay.

“With assault this severe-“ Doc Vega’s face was more than eloquent regarding his horrified assessment. “-she should be in hospital. You know that right? That’s what this is, sexual battery, and like the word suggests, it's damaging, very damaging. Not to mention infection, fever- she belongs in hospital.”

The silence was heavy except for Brady and his off kilter laps.

“If they take her, I don’t trust them to guarantee her Combatant status.” Gale’s jaw worked overtime as he stared down at the body of his friend, “German hospital might be the best thing to ever happen to her or the worst when they discharge her. She’d not want me to let them take her out of here. Not after she fought so hard to get in.”

“Then by god,” the doctor exclaimed, “take her to the camp doctor, there must be some supplies. Antibiotics at the least, aspirin perhaps. Something for the swelling, inside and out. Camp doctor has supplies, how many times do I gotta tell you guys -I don’t! Take her to him.”

“No!” John Brady spoke up urgently only to immediately appear chagrined at his slip as Gale Cleven turned a very suspicious eye on him, “I mean, sir, if we take her, the German doctor will just transfer her to hospital. He can’t see how bad she is.”

That was a valid point, Cleven had to give it to him, although he noticed Hambone’s own suspicious, cud chewing, background shuffling observation of his pilot. Every time that doctor was brought up, Brady mildly suggested that they not go to him, without fail. His mentions regarding the guy being German and illusions to his methods being foreign were wearing thin. There was a miasma of myth about the doctor that no one could actually credit for a single source and Cleven hadn’t expected Brady, sensible, steady, laconic and measured Brady, to be the one to start spinning folklore in a place like this. He had next to no patience for it.

“Brady,” he decided to have at it, “you gonna tell me why everytime I bring up medical care in this camp you act like I’m suggesting suicide?”

“Sir,” Johnny’s gentle eyes grew wide and ever more guileless, “I told you, that man isn't much good.”

“Even a trash physician who has supplies is better than a good one without.” Doc Vega pointed out as he prepared to take his leave, “I’ve done everything with what I have. There simply isn’t anything at my disposal. Packages got held up and didn’t have everything accounted for.”

“He probably takes the stuff.” Brady muttured.

“So he’s the one to go to.” Gale snapped.

“He’s not touching her.” Ida’s brother replied.

Gale pinched his nose as he watched Vega leave them, the guy’s useless little bag of nothing swinging by his side, “By not being good - do you mean a poor physician? Be clear, Damnit.”

As if sensing a penultimate conflict, the room soon cleared of everyone save Maureen who was too invested by curiosity and a healthy dose of her own suspicion.

“Sir I’ve told you, he -he operates outside his purview.”

“Son? I can’t even pretend to understand what that means.” Gale’s patience grew more lethal as it rubbed thin, “That could mean he uses leeches or he abuses his patients.”

Brady’s eyes darted back and forth from Cleven’s face to the plain beamed ceiling as if he could find his answer there. Manic and with an odd glitter easily mistaken for tears. The kid probably needed to sleep, or maybe he needed to fess up about the doctor. Either way, Gale found the whole thing more and more unsettling but also, aggravating.

“Now are you gonna tell me which is it? Or are you alright with me withholding help from dying men because Captain Brady’s too intent on staying vague?”

“He’s just odd, sir.” Brady gave a defeated huff, eyes still watery, “It’s nothing bad, I-I never said not to send them, sir. He just can’t see Ida. He can’t.”

Gale was intently watching Brady swallow hard and wrack his brain for another respectful appeal when Crack came barreling back in, the eagerness in his step reserved for only one thing these dismal days: “They’re here! There’s a new batch, bringing them in the front now, quick, there’s not a long line!”

Brady was up and darting out the room before Gale could blink, uncharacteristically excusing himself before his superior had dismissed him and leaving Ida behind, still motionless in her bunk.

“Bucky could be with them!” Brady explained as he dashed out, same old hope repeated for over a month now and Gale wondered when the guy was going to crack from one too many hits to the morale.

“Brady!” Gale called after him a beat too late, wondering who was going to stay with Ida, but after catching Maureen’s quizzical eye, Gale too bolted and left the woman in his lover’s charge, tearing out of the combine to have a word with his young Captain, fleece and cover on for a little added dignity the camp pallor had no doubt stripped him of.

The scars, too.

Brady was at the fence by the time Gale caught up, his wiry frame slipping between the surging mass of POWs come to greet and heckle the newcomers. Gale had long ago found it a dismal scene and wasn’t fond of watching after it, but Crank and Brady were too intent, and some heartsick need drove Gale to find such excuses for why he, too, always managed to be at the scene when a new batch trudged in.

And what the cat brought in today made Gale forget about everything, everything else but that tall, shuffling, bloodied mess of a man he knew was his friend. And, characterically, despite appearing half dead, Egan was asking after Cleven, like the crackers after the cheese, damn the association risks.

“John Egan! Your two o’clock!”

Like a sunbeam splintering a thundercloud, Bucky’s battered face split open in a beaming smile the second he’d registered Cleven’s own. Gale couldn’t help the effusion of bittersweet gratification at the immediate resumption of the old ways, the old sweetness between them, the nearness of a good man to help brave this hell.

“What took you so long?” he jabbed, but his friend’s face told a story Buck wasn’t sure anyone left in Stalag Luft III had the stamina to hear.

And just like that, Egan was shuffled past and into processing and it would be ages before he saw him again. When Gale turned his back and worked his way through the crowd, Brady was lingering in one of the clearings, hands clasped and a rote twirl of thumbs matching the catatonically grateful prayers on his imperceptibly moving lips. Or Gale sure hoped they were prayers, it was that or Johnny having finally cracked.

“You were right.” He gave the kid a pat on the shoulder, smiling gently at him as he seemed to come out of his relieved fog, eyes too big in that lean face and dark circles making reflective ponds below, “You were right, you said he’d make it.”

“I hoped he would.” Johnny didn’t sound like he was expecting to cash in those prayers so soon.

“I’m going to that doctor.” Gale informed him, leveling him a strong look, “I think we should get a little list for the other girls. Play it off, could be for anyone. Penicillin, sulfa, that sorta thing. Does that sorta thing cure…their sorta thing?” Cleven admittedly obfuscated towards the end, not really expecting John Brady to know what cured venereal diseases but more hoping for an opinion of solidarity, like one does when ordering a risky plate off the menu.

Major Cleven never learned whether Captain Brady thought penicillin would work or not, there was a commotion outside the main center compound’s administrative building, and then the sudden appearance of guards dragging between them a slumped figure.

A dragged body was bad in most situations, at the prison camp it was cause for more than a little ire and panic. When Gale recognized the stature of their burden, the familiar span of the shoulders, the dark mop of curls hung low, his own brisk walk turned into a full on sprint across the muddy yard, Brady at his heels full of the same enlightenment.

“The hell did you do to him?” Cleven bellowed at the reasonably perturbed guards who were already mounting a defense of their blamelessness for Egan’s unconscious state.

“Nothing!” the more fluent of the two protested, “He vas being processed, yes? And he falls over, like zat. Nothing. Did nothing. Check him, he is—“ the guard made a motion to his face signifying the battlement Gale had already noticed as Egan trudged in. Back when Egan was awake and on his own two feet. “We? Nothing!”

Gale took Egan from them like a mother being handed their child, full frontal weight of his large friend propped against him and he succeeded at little more than keeping them both from hitting the mud. He was already weaker than when he first got there and the proof was here in the staggering weight of a man he used to hold his own against. Crank and Johnny and Demarco were beside him before he can even look for assistance, expressions of compassion and anger at Egan’s plight all melding into a series of disbelieving grunts as they heaved him up between them, carrying his dead weight like a feedsack. Gale and Brady take under his arms, Crank and Benny his legs. Gale studied the completely bashed face of his friend, a seething deduction brewing as to how he came to be in such a state.

“The showers.” he directed his men as they stalled midway in the yard after having got the weight of him hoisted.

They created a stir as they went, the dire oddity of the scene drawing attention as they shuffled through camp.

“Holy shit, is that Egan?” Talullah Smith came to a sudden halt in their path.

“Move!” Gale told her. “Or get the door.”

“He even alive?” Murphy was with her, no doubt obeying Cleven’s order for no woman to be unattended around camp, and he scrambled alongside to help as they mounted the steps and passed through the door Smith held until they were in the dank and echoing, poorly tiled room. There were a few other men in here, washing clothes and dabbing at their underarms. The showers themselves were not on today, hadn’t been for days, and Gale knew the large trough sinks down the middle of the room were their best bet for a triage and an initial wash.

“Somebody get his boots off, come on.”

It was horrible, grunting, grappling work trying to keep Egan’s dead weight up as they tugged off encrusted articles of clothing one after another, cringing at the bruises each grip and pull necessarily aggravated.

“Sorry Bucky.” Demarco apologized repeatedly to the insensible man as he adjusted his grip on his ribs for Brady to pull the slate gray button up off him.

“Smith, you can go.” Cleven noticed her lingering by the door, consternation written all over her face at Egan’s state, Murphy shadowing her. It wasn’t suitable for a woman to remain for the rest of it, whatever skill she had at setting fingers was a little below the pay grade of John Egan’s injuries. “You and Murph, can go get Doc Vega. Again.”

He sent Brady a look but the boy was too busy to notice, helping pull a very discolored arm out of a Bucky’s standard issue, fleece-less jacket. “What’d the looney do with his sheepskin?” he asked.

“Gave it to, Kidd.” Brady grunted, “Right before Munster. Said you didn’t like it.”

I’ll be damned: no lucky deuce and no lucky jacket and no fighter escorts, how were they supposed to manage to stay in the sky with recklessness like that? “You sentimental sunnuvabitch,” he hissed mournfully at his friend’s flopping head as they got him stripped and the full extent of his bruises came in view, “-supposed to be the last ones up.”

If anyone else understood what he meant in his mournful rage, they didn’t heed it, and if they didn’t understand they also did not press him for his meaning.

“Let’s get him up.”

Collectively they grabbed a limb apiece again and hoisted Bucky, groaning themselves under the bare weight of him.

“What did his mother feed him?” Benny protested as they staggered, and dumped him onto the longest of the troughs, getting a weak moan of protest from their specimen at the cold and hard surface.

“Major?” Crank begged hopefully of his closed eyes as Gale worked at the pump on the faucet, the gurgle of chilled water preceding the blast.

“I’m gonna use this, lad.” Brady was informing one of the armpit washing boys down the way, swiping their washcloth with kind presumption and returning to squeeze it out under Cleven’s growing steam.

Gently as he had his sister’s scalp, Brady began to use the wet cloth to scrub and wipe at the blood dried in an ominous swirl around Bucky’s eye as Gale continued to pump.

“He’s gonna catch chill.” Demarco warned.

“Haul some buckets?” Gale asked if they were willing, the kitchen combine was not so far away with fires and tin pails.

“We’ll be back.” Benny agreed.

“Brady, go with him.” Cleven unceremoniously pried the washcloth from the boy’s hand; silent weeping was an art Gale had perfected as a child but he’d not seen it in a grown man until today, “Go.”

While they were gone Gale did his best to keep the chilled water somewhat diverted, with Crank’s help he even managed to roll Bucky on his side and probe at his blackened ribs. As is, Bucky began to shiver and when Doc Vega got there; he was none too gentle in his hurried and angry assessment.

“Fractured ribs.” he rubbed the washcloth across his face like he was sanding the deck back home, “Possible fractured orbit. Eye socket, Cleven, looks busted. Just keep him propped, hope his eye doesn’t fall back into his skull.” Gale stared back at him unblinking, there was only ever one question these days and after a beat Doc Vega answered it, “And no, don’t have anything for it.”

Brady and DeMarco had returned with their now tepid water in time to hear this. “Should we wash him?” Benny gestured hopelessly.

“Yeah, he’ll probably sleep it off. If we’re lucky. Get him clean, get him warm.”

Gale began to pump anew and Brady gently tipped his warm bucket over Egan’s clotted curls, running his fingers through to disentangle the crusted snarls. Unfortunately their irrepressible patient took the kindness for a waterboarding and began to thrash, sending a shower of cold droplets over his caregivers.

“Buck?” a wrecked voice, punctuated by chattering teeth, stalled them all. “I saw Buck, where’s Buck, I found Buck, wh-“

“Yeah, yeah Bucky, it’s me.” Gale dropped his task and crouched over him, shivering himself as the sink ledge dampened the front of his own clothes.

“Buck!” Egan begged again, arms reaching out until Gale found himself all but tipped into the sink himself, arms wound around Egan’s pale shoulders with their blooming blue mottle, “M’so goddamn cold, Buck.”

“I know, I know, I’ve got ya. I swear, I’ve got ya.” Gale squeezed him tighter, “Almost over. Gettin’ you freshened up. We’ve got ladies here now.” he joked.

John’s head rolled listlessly on Gale’s forearm and his sharp blue eyes flitted across the washroom ceiling until he caught sight of someone else dear hovering over him with another pail, “Brady, what’re you cryin’ for?” he croaked.

“You.” the kid didn’t miss a beat. “So sorry Bucky, I’m so sorry.

“Hey,” Bucky’s voice strengthened with vehemence, “s’not your fault. None of it.”

“Yeah,” Gale agreed, gently peeling a flake of blood off his ear, “that plane was going down anyway without your lucky jacket.”

Bucky somehow had the stamina and the facial expertise to look sheepish at that despite his disfigurement. “Why'd you guys put me in the sink? Animals! Get me out, too goddamn cold, get me out. Gale! Get me out.”

“Ok, ok, shh, ok.”

There was a compassionate scramble to help Bucky sit up and swing his legs over the side, the groaning and swaying of the Major a hardly promising sign for the excursion he seemed intent to make. Suddenly they were helping to prop him on his feet again, and while he was no longer the dead, unconscious weight of before, he was now six feet something of bare, slippery flesh vibrating between them all in a terrible chill. Murphy and Smith had brought blankets along with the Doc, and gratifyingly someone from their combine had proffered a t-shirt and fresh skivvies.

Crank and Brady swayed dangerously with his weight on their shoulders as Gale knelt down and made his shaking legs step into them. Bucky’s own hand arrested him standing up by placing a clumsy hand on his cheek.

“Where’d you get these?” he was thumbing at those scars Gale hadn’t managed to live down.

“Flack.” Gale maintaIned as he rose to his feet, “What the hell happened to you?“

Bucky gave him his old lopsided grin, “War, Buck.”

“Too much of this kind of war lately.” Crank pointed out unamused, wounds were one thing but what was with the abuse? It didn’t seem to stay away, even from the strongest or most esteemed of their number.

Bucky’s brow ticked in curiosity at the allusion to others but he was too drained to keep his thoughts ordered, “Marched us through a town, RAF had just paid a call. Townspeople didn’t exactly come out with flowers.”

“Holy shit.” Benny sucked his teeth in a grimace, noticing how the other men down the way paused their chores to listen in.

“They attacked you?” Cleven’s tone left little room for questioning.

Bucky gave them a wincing little smile, tilting his head in a shrug, “Yeah, guards just let them at us. I’m the only one who made it.”

“What?” Came up in a chorus, his doleful audience suddenly animated, “You mean they killed the rest?”

“One got knifed,” Bucky stared down at Brady’s work on lacing his boots, skivvies and boots, now he looked like all the other clowns here, “the others - guess they beat them, too. I heard shots. Woke up in a cart on the way to a nice, quiet little spot in the woods.”

“Jesus Christ:” Crank uttered, “Jesus Christ.”

“I’ll be ok.” Bucky muttered, scuffing his boots to see how heavy they felt, his limbs wouldn’t stop shivering and he had a sick feeling it wasn’t from cold alone.

“Yeah, you will.” Cleven’s pained eyes ordered him sternly and to swipe away that horrid crease between his brows, Egan would do anything.

“Yeah.” he agreed.

“Let’s get you a bunk.” Brady prodded, slipping back under one of his armpits, wiry shoulders having more strength in them than Bucky credited, “We’ve got a nice little sick ward going.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah; and no medical supplies.”

“Great.”

“Yeah, it’s a real well oiled machine they got here.” Benny snarked as the lot of them kept pace with Egan’s limps across to their combine -it wasn’t under discussion where he’d bunk, he would be in with them.

“What’d you name the place?” Egan asked dismally at the threshold of their combine.

“We didn’t.” Gale admitted his unimaginative oversight for the second time in twenty four hours on these same steps.

“No?” Egan slapped at the boring raw lumber and sniffed, “You let Maureen in billet in here?” he asked suddenly.

“Y-yeah.” Gale was wary and his defense at the ready, “All the women who’ve arrived so far are in this one, so we can help guard them. Yes, Maureen’s in with us.”

It was better just to say it, to head off the teasing and the suggestions and the disorder right away. Cleven smiled back at Bucky confidently, waiting for this friend to get a move on over the threshold.

“Huh, ok,” Egan made a funny little face; “then I christen you,” he went on addressing the combine itself, clearing his throat loudly to collect before spitting on the doorframe above Benny’s disgusted head, “Love Shack Number Nine.”

“Just -get your ass inside.” Gale shoved at him between his shoulders and Bucky -with Brady still tucked dutifully under a wing- entered his new home.

Gale gave him a preliminary roster of inmates in each barrack, “We’re down near the end.” and by the time they got to their own room Crank had to help support Bucky’s other side, the brief surge of energy the cold water and friendly faces had given him waning fast.

“Just so goddamn hard to breathe.” He tried to explain, wincing at the pull of his arms as they clumsily shouldered into their room.

It was empty except for Ida in her bunk and Maureen beside her who stood up fast as a lightning bolt at the sight of Egan. “Jumping Jehoshaphat, what happened to you?” She rushed him but pulled back before her usual greeting of hugs to survey the damage, suspecting a squeeze might be too cruel even by Egan’s standards.

“I’m ok, Candy.” he assured, smooth as butter as he reached for her and ran busted knuckles over the curl of her hair, “God you’re a sight for sore eyes after all these ugly bastards.”

“Really though, what happened?” she shied away from his pacifying touches, glaring at the others to start spilling the beans.

“They tried to lynch him.” Gale saw there was nothing for, she’d wheedle it out at some point and after what she’d seemingly endured, what exactly was he shielding her from? “Killed everyone else with him.”

Maureen’s worried eyes dulled sadly at this and she proceeded to hug herself, hands carefully tucked into her armpits, “Gosh, Bucky.” she mumbled.

“Hey, said I’m alright, didn’t I?” Bucky coaxed, swaying towards Maureen and laying a heavy hand on her small shoulder. It tipped him too far forward and he had to clutch at and brace himself on the bunk slat behind her head. Suddenly he was peering over her shoulder and instead of empty sheets as he expected in the lowest bunk, he found the bruised face of a superior he didn’t know had even been shot down. “What the hell happened to her?”

At the silence that followed this very simple question, Bucky swung his head round to stare the men down. It made the world rock, window blurring into the room in a nauseating sheet of white and Buck had too many eyes and all of them sad and Crank hadn’t even a face but a blob and his vision was shot to shit with spots but as no one said a word, he repeated his question in a yell that surprised even himself, “What happened to her?”

“The Gestapo kept taking them from the Dulag.” Brady’s voice was soft and thin in his ringing ears, like a child explaining the fate of a broken toy, “They even took them to a camp. A women’s prison camp.”

“Am I missing the part where any of that promises a face like that?” Bucky demanded, trying to get the goddamn window to stop whiting out his vision.

Gale’s voice was on his other side, the side without the window, he wanted to look at him but he was afraid to move his head again and for the spots to get large and everything go black one more time. “Long time before they’d recognize them as combatants, Bucky,” Gale laid a preemptively calming hand on Egan’s arm, “SS knocked them around bad.”

That’s all Gale really knew of it. Most of it had been gotten out of Smith who seemed most fit and most angry over it all. The others were skittish or tired.

“Knocked them around.” Bucky repeated bitterly, disbelieving Cleven’s moderate retelling, “Who’s them? Who else?”

“We’ve got a little over a dozen of the girls here.” Gale replied, “Brought them in a group, some downed weeks before others. Held them while figuring out what to do before they brought them here.”

“What to do?” Bucky knew he was back to yelling and the spots were getting excited from it, “Treat them like officers being a little too much to ask?”

“Like they treated you?” Demarco weighed in, if only to take the heat off his co-pilot, “Like they treated Buck?” -or maybe not.

“The fuck did they do to him?” Bucky really did try to turn his head this time and he was blindly groping for Cleven’s soft cheeks even as the spots took over his vision and his knees began to buckle. Gale grabbed him on the way down with Candy’s help, but Egan heard her exclamation of pain from it.

Steadied, with his hands back on the bunk slat, Bucky willed away the spots and stared down at Kendeigh’s supportive hands on his waist -or what shoulda been hands. He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen an uglier set of paws.

“Were you with her?” he asked, gravelly and not to be ignored.

“Most of the time.” Maureen whispered back and if Gale could have cleared the room for her he would’ve.

“Then what the hell happened to her?” Bucky summoned the last bit of himself and stared down the auburn beauty of his erstwhile drinking buddy, “No really Kendeigh, answer me. I’m your superior, you don’t have recourse, you answer to me. What’re you gonna do, huh? Ask your fairy godmother colonel if you can ignore me? Huh? ‘Hey ida got a sec, Ida?’ No? Looks like her office is closed. Fucking talk to me, Candy. Start with those hands. What happened?”

“Someone stood on them.” -if Gale had to hear Maureen repeat it one more time in that monotone way he was going to start chewing through his cheek.

“Why?” Bucky always had such simple questions, it was one of his wisdoms and Maureen hated it right now, her eyes flashing and her face reddening as she ducked away from the stare of friends.

“So I’d stop fighting him.” The statement was hardly legible, her voice had gone so wispy.

“He, this ‘he’ -he knew you were an Officer?” Gale hadn’t thought to ask that, and he’d thought of so many things to ask that never made it out his throat, but Bucky did. “An army Air Force combatant?”

Maureen swallowed hard before throwing her head back, neck taut and nose flaring -Gale didn’t think he’d ever seen her more magnificent. “He knocked my cap off before it.” she answered at last, a cold hard meeting of blue eyes and Bucky stared her down, “And he laughed at the engraving on my belt buckle when he undid my pants.” There was dead silence for a beat before she went on, “They tore the wing patches off Ida’s shirt, you can see the holes there, see? Johnny’s not fixed them yet.”

Bucky slumped to a seat on Ida’s bunk, a shaky hand extending to push down the blanket and expose her shoulder, and there was a jagged tear in the standard issue, sure enough. “What’s Johnny been fixing?” he asked, voice hollow as he thumbed at Ida’s mottled skin, she was white as a ghost beneath the blue discoloration. Bucky wondered if he looked half as rough.

Johnny was then in a squat beside him, rummaging under the bunk before pulling out a pair of trousers. He tossed them into Bucky’s lap, wordlessly. Drab olive, Brady’s tidy repairs obvious due to the clashing thread, and also blood -so much goddamn blood down the inseams, meticulously scrubbed out but stained all the same and woven together by the white stitches. “You bastards let him do this?” Bucky asked the men incredulously, rage beginning to boil over and it didn’t have a single source and it certainly had no rightful outlet, “None of you can handle a fuckin’ needle? No? No, go on then, let a brother sew up this shit, let him get to think long and hard about what each fuckin’ rip means for his sister! You goddamn cowards -you haven’t even asked them! You haven’t talked about it with the girls, have you?”

“Bucky, Bucky come on now,” Gale tried reasoning with him, “they just got in. So did you. Let’s, let’s take it easy, save our mad for the ones who deserve it.”

“Oh, oh you don’t think that’s us then, Major Cleven?” Egan scoffed, “Because we didn’t do it, isn’t our fault at all?”

“It’s not!” Crank insisted behind Gale’s back, “Gonna blame Buck for your ribs, too?”

That defeated him. Bucky’s fury visibly dimmed in his eyes and Gale would have almost preferred the insulting rage over the dead helplessness that followed, it was too reminiscent of his own. “They’re safe, you’re safe.” he summarized gruffly, “Doc says sleep for both you and her.”

“Sleep.” Bucky mumbled as he looked back to Ida, trying to imagine with masochistic singleness of mind the sort of men who’d enjoy picking a strong woman like her apart -he could bring them to mind too easily. “Sure, just…sleep it off.”

“I don’t want her going to the doctor.” John Brady insisted once more like this had never been argued before in this very room.

“He no good?” was all Bucky asked.

“No sir.” Brady was emphatic and relieved to be taken at vaguest value.

“Brady’s the only one to say that,” Cleven butted in, “and he won’t specify.” Gale may have shot a glare at Ida’s brother, Bucky’s own predicament causing a double issue. “You need one, she needs one, too.”

“I-I trust my little Fox.” Bucky disagreed, although it was less impressive by both the use of a nickname and the slurring stumble that occurred right after as he attempted to get up from the bunk and pat Brady’s cheek. This small movement caused such disturbance in his fragile equilibrium that he would have nearly toppled if Cleven and Kendeigh hadn’t been at his side to catch him. “Goddamn! Goddamn, I’m dizzy as hell.” he repeated, “And cold. I don’t want a doctor, I want a blanket. And a nap.”

“Just what the doctor ordered.” Gale repeated dryly with a ghost of a grin that would have normally riled Bucky into smushing it between his fingers. He was too far away for that and Bucky was too dizzy to reach.

“M’gonna sleep for a week.” He announced.

“They’ll be in here for roll if you don’t show.” Gale begged.

“Good luck to them, moving me.” Bucky grumbled and shook a boot across the room before Brady knelt and helped with the other one. How many times had the sweet kid been shoeing him today? He should start calling him mom.

“They’ll come for her too, if she misses again.” Gale pushed, “A guard came and checked to make sure she was alive this morning.”

“They’ll just take her to the doctor.” Brady repeated hopelessly.

“No they won’t.” Bucky assured him, already fully convinced of two things Gale very much held in suspicion, and he’d been here under half an hour, “They won’t.” he repeated and, before anyone could fully credit their eyes, he appeared to use his last gasp of strength and dexterity to roll Ida Brady, none too gently, further in her bunk toward the wall before climbing in after her and sagging into the meager bedding.

“John!” Cleven had too many objections to itemize at present and all of them were tidily conveyed by use of his Christian name.

“They can’t take her from us like this, Buck.” Bucky was slurring worse than ever, now obstructed by a pillowcase and Ida’s torn head.

“She doesn’t wanna be touched.” Gale hissed urgently, side eyeing Demarco who seemed beyond caution and was now viewing this as analytically as a laboratory experiment.

“S’ok.” Bucky mumbled, “Ida always knows me.”

Gale and Johnny exchanged helpless looks, with Gale choosing to flavor his own with no small amount of accusation towards the younger man. But then, both occupants of the bunk became -and stayed- still, and no seizing episodes followed the heavy burden of Bucky’s arm over Ida’s ribs. So, with shrugs and outstretched hands of mere mortal impotency, they resigned themselves to life with Bucky in Love Shack Number Nine.

“I forgot how loud he could get.” Crank’s mutter broke the silence.

“We should get some salve at least.” Demarco observed with a nod to Bukcy’s face and Kendeigh, who had been oddly quiet and sat with legs swinging on her bunk, echoed in agreement.

“I thought maybe penicillin, too.” Gale asked the room at large.

“Why not ask for the keys to the front gate while we’re at it?” Crank snarked, “That krout sawbones never gave me shit for Murphy’s cuts, hasn’t even tended Hambone since he got out of hospital.”

“Hambone hasn’t gone to him because Brady has scared him off.” Cleven retorted, “Any of you have a better idea?”

“I could try.” Maureen spoke up, “He might -respond?- if a woman asked.”

“No.” Cleven shut that down with a sharp cut of his hand through the air, “No way in hell.”

“I’ll go sir.“ Brady’s soft assurance broke the tenseness, Gale watched the boy stoically as he rose from his place by Ida’s -and now Egan’s- bunk, and grabbed his pipe off the table, “Salve and penicillin?” he confirmed, face cocked shyly back at Cleven once more from the doorway.

“Salve and penicillin.” Cleven affirmed, “And Brady-“ he halted the boy, “-you sure about this?”

“He knows me.” Brady’s eyebrows drew together, a sudden strong expression on his face, nonplussed in a way that made Cleven feel like he was the one slow in the head, “Fixed the shoulder.” he reminded, gesticulating to the joint that had been dislocated by a poor parachute landing, no doubt caused by arguing too long and close to the ground in a spiraling plane with Major Egan. “I’ll get you the stuff, sir.”

Brady shoved his pipe in his mouth and dug his hands into his coat pockets as he walked down the drafty hallway. Conversations from the various rooms drifted to his ear, odd still to hear the high tones of female chatter amongst them. He found himself rolling his last bit of tobacco round and round in his pocket as he neared the door, he’d been saving it for a real doozy of a day; for some catastrophe that needed nicotine to wash it down, or else a holiday that deserved the special exception. Ramming his once hurt shoulder into the door to open it, Brady decided today would have to be significant enough.

The day he got salve and penicillin.

“You just chew on that thing instead of smoke it now?” The laconic humor of his bombardier startled him mid shiver, it wasn’t even that cold outside he just felt poorly and everything was getting real cold and awful as he stood rooted to their steps and eyeing the main compound.

“No, I was gettin’ ready to pack it.” He answered Hamilton, leveling him a scrutinizing look over the pipe in question, “How’ve you been keepin’ occupied?”

“This and that.” Hambone shrugged, gold teeth still glinting as he assessed Brady. “Where you headed?”

“Who says I’m headed anyplace?”

“Word is Egan’s here and half dead.” Hambone scratched at his scar, the rough sutures too late in being taken out and now causing irritation, Brady almost felt guilty for that. “And now you're out here eyeing the Pill Hut. I’d say you’re going to that doctor.”

Hambone never really got enough credit for his smarts, and Brady wished he’d stop using them only when it concerned things Johnny was already having enough trouble psyching himself up for -like radioing the tower to admit they were lost or visiting this freak in a white coat.

“They need some stuff.” He conceded.

“Gonna waste good baccy on it?” Hambone scoffed again, “Come on, I feel like a walk. Haven’t seen inside the place anyway, all your ghost stories were too spooky.” Hambone was mocking him, but he was also beginning to walk towards the hut with the plain expectation of accompanying Brady.

“Hambone-“

“With all due respect, just shut it, Captain.” Hambone gave him a look, and it was the first one today that made Brady feel seen without feeling all of two inches tall, “If I have to rub these stitches on those rough pillows one more night I’m gonna claw my face back open.”

Brady didn’t doubt he would, so in a spooked and complacent mood, pilot followed grinning bombardier down the muddy lanes to the doctor’s shack.

💋 Hope you enjoyed! Feedback is a writer’s lifeblood, please feel free to scream in comments or the inbox, I love it and wanna hear it all. Trust me, nothing is “too dumb”. Your thoughts mean the world to me.

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#mota fanfic #masters of the air fic #mota fic #masters of the air #mota #gale cleven #John Egan #john brady #hambone hamilton #charles cruikshank #benny demarco #those who can #integrated au #gale cleven x oc #Gale x Maureen #mota oc

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ofallthingsnasty · 2 months

Text

tw: workplace harassment, mental illness, gn reader, make sure to read the last paragraph as well characters: Crocodile, Doflamingo word count: 1k

While I may be suffering from "I'm a total newbie and scared shitless of my boss" disease + an anxiety disorder, this would be so perfect for either Crocodile and Doflamingo.

Just think about it… You just started working for one of them - and both men certainly demand respect, can be quite scary when provoked, but you think you can weather any storm that might be coming your way. You’re grown, you’ve got bills to pay, they’ve been professional enough so far, it won’t be too bad, right? Oh, stupid, stupid you - because they can smell your little authority figure issues ten miles upwind.

Both notice that you're green, easily impressed and hurried by their presence, notice how sweaty your hands and furrowed your brow gets - and both definitely corner you; try to get you into a frenzied state, right into panic mode just because it’s fun to see how you slowly fly off the hinges. They both toy with you in their own ways - Crocodile is just always standing behind you, silently watching, only the smell of smoke and his cologne telling you he's right there, looming over your shoulder. He enjoys the way your hands shake with whatever it is you’re doing, how you cough and shift around while he does absolutely nothing. His mere presence makes you so antsy he doesn't even have to say something and his silence is easily interpreted as criticism and mistrust by your anxious little brain. It only gets worse when he never talks about his little staring/surveillance sessions, never explains why he randomly shows up at your desk or workstation, never asks you for a word afterwards - you always feel like you’re not good enough, that no matter how long you’ve been by his side, he needs to check up on you. He’s an imposing man, too - so much bulk and smoke, just the thought of him asking you for a vis-a-vis keeps you up at night. And every day, every week spent fretting over him and his perception of you (coupled with the fact that you really, really need this job) makes you more and more insecure, makes it hard to unwind after yet another long day, makes you overanalyze every single glance, every word and move of his. He slowly creeps into your after-hours, your conversations with friends, your weekends, even your vacations. And he can tell. Crocodile notices the slight, subtle changes. The way you smooth over your clothes before talking to him, how you place an index and middle finger over sternum as if to shield yourself from him, the fucking cold sweat shining on your forehead whenever he does question a decision of yours with a gruff bark. The way you avoid his eyes, stumble over your own feet in a hurry, the way he can see that you sleep worse and worse - that’s how he knows he's got you hooked, fully and wholly. That all you're thinking about is him and work and pleasing him and being good at work and again, him and work and him and- Your job is the only thing in your life now, from the moment you wake up to the time you lay your head down to sleep, everything is consumed by thoughts of him and his opinions about you and your abilities, always aiming to please and so, so nervous to fail. It’s perfect.

Doflamingo is way more vocal about it. He'll throw your work right back into your face, all sneers and acid tongue. It’s just not enough, never enough, reflects badly on him, on his company - whatever it is you do, it hails nothing but criticism and mockery and late nights to fix your stupid mistakes. He doesn’t even give you moments of rest, he just constantly picks on you until you’re seriously considering just resigning for your own mental health. He’s methodically destroying your self-esteem, makes you doubt your own abilities - you know you shouldn’t let him creep into your head as much as he does, but when all you hear is that you’re so fucking bad at your job, how much you suck - it sticks. You’re so stressed because of him you almost have a panic attack over putting your two weeks in and despite your suffering, you keep procrastinating, keep telling yourself you’ll do it tomorrow, when you have had a full night’s sleep. Problem is - you never do. He can tell by the way you’re idling, fiddling with the straps of your bag whenever he comes in for the day that you’re trying to leave - but that you're simply too scared of his reaction to pull the trigger. And that right there; that fear, that pedestal you put him on is the perfect breeding ground for all sorts of unethical things he can push you to do for him. He starts out small; things like getting him coffee in the mornings when you never did that before, a too-warm, lingering hand on your shoulder, a comment about your outfit - every little thing is calculated, tailored to slowly destroy your boundaries while you fear him more and more, give him way more authority over your life than you should. He knows it’s psychological, that someone else might be able to flip him off and leave without ever thinking twice about him. But you… You have accepted him as the one part of your life everything hinges on - you give him all that power in your sick little brain. Oh, he’ll use it well. The fun has only just started, rest assured.

And while Crocodile gets to click his tongue, scoff and tell you that he'll take over from now on because clearly - you're just not capable and you obviously need him (not only at work but also in your whole life, silly), Doflamingo taunts you and tells you to make yourself useful, then, if you can't even do your job right. Maybe sucking his dick is your true calling - come on, let's see if you can do at least one thing right. One man wants to take your life over completely, sees you as the malleable (perfect) mess that you are, with all the potential that comes with it - and the other just wants to fuck you up for the next decade of your life, wants to be reason you wake up in the middle of night because his vicious smile still bounces around in that head of yours

#crocodile x reader #doflamingo x reader #one piece x reader #ah... if only crocodile decided to fuck me up and make me worse.. only for him to swoop in and use it as an excuse to wife me up... hmmmm..#/crocodile #/doflamingo #/one pice

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watatsumiis · 1 year

Text

When you're unwell - Diluc edition

Diluc Ragnvindr is a busy man, with a busy lifestyle. His daily to-do list is longer than most people’s weekly ones. But all of that comes screeching to a halt the moment he catches wind of you being even the slightest bit unwell. Then, he’s pulling strings and taking full advantage of his prestige and riches to make sure you’re able to receive the best care you could possibly ever hope for.

Large amounts of his work end up being passed on to Elzer, and he’ll often ask Adelinde for assistance when preparing meals for you - she knows just how important you are to Diluc, and extends her full hospitality, setting you up in one of the most comfortable guest rooms available and fussing over you whenever Diluc isn’t there to do so.

Diluc knows just how comforting having company when you’re feeling unwell is, and will pull out all the stops to make sure he’s able to be by your side at your every waking moment, not caring if he might get sick himself.

Even his Darknight Hero duties take second place to you, so he can spend the nights fretting at your bedside and being at your beck and call. No matter how much you insist that you’re fine and feeling okay, Diluc won’t hear a word of it, especially if you’re exhibiting symptoms of any kind. He’s a true gentleman, offering to read to you and keeping you apprised of the current happenings in the city and its surroundings.

Diluc likes sitting at your bedside, holding one of your hands in both of his to make sure you know he’s there for you, even if you’re delirious from a fever or deeply sleeping as you recover. He does whatever work he can from the same room as you so that he’s able to keep a close eye on you as you recover. Most nights, he’ll sleep by your bedside, propped up in the creaky wooden chair he dragged in here from downstairs, or doubled over to rest his head on your legs as he snores softly.

Adelinde fusses over you a little, but definitely not to the same extent Diluc does - she assures you that he has his reasons for worrying so much, and that once you’re better, he’ll settle back down once again. If Diluc finds himself too busy to tend to you, Adelinde will take his place at your bedside once her chores are complete, as she knows Diluc will fret otherwise, and refuse to leave the house at all.

If you’re up to it, Adelinde will tell you a large variety of stories about Diluc, mostly centred around his childhood, as well as the mischief he and Kaeya would often get up to growing up. She may even let slip the detail that Kaeya was often bedridden with mysterious illnesses when he was younger thanks to him having a fairly weak constitution, which explains why Diluc is so fussy over you when you’re unwell.

Diluc will also overload you with gifts in hopes of cheering you up, giving you stuffed animals, new clothes, books, and other such treats for you to enjoy once you’re better.

Please don't repost, steal, copy or otherwise plagiarise my writing! I do not consent for my works to be translated and posted elsewhere, or used to teach bots!

#genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin imagines #genshin self insert #my writing #genshin headcanons #genshin fluff #platonic genshin x reader #when youre unwell series #diluc #diluc x reader #genshin diluc #diluc genshin #diluc ragnvindr #diluc x you #yeah anyways chronically ill kaeya my beloved headcanon ever

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industriallyinsecure · 1 year

Note

Hello may I please ask for headcanons for La Squadra reacting to their s/o being so out in it in mornings. Like they pour coffee in a cereal bowl and they go “give me a minute, something’s not right.”

More under cut!

He watches with stern eyes as you fumble through cabinets and every conceivable container

And then pour cereal into a glass

Then try to drink it

While he’s seen things that were odder, this was certainly up there

“My heart? What are you doing?”

“I’m not really sure.”

“Here, let me help.”

Does some light supervising but doesn’t reprimand you

Will massage your shoulders gently and cuddle up to you as you fiddle with the stove

If you’re still sleepy in the morning, five minutes of being around him will wake you right up

Will explode if you waste any food, even by accident

Gets so pissed he ends up doing your morning routine for you

“What the FUCK?! Are you shitting my dick right now??”

“Huh?”

“Just give me the fucking bread.”

Only feels bad about it if it makes you sad. Otherwise it’s free game

Genuinely doesn’t understand what the problem is and honestly thinks you’re doing it on purpose

Liable to do the same things because he’s a night owl

You two are swaddled in blankets trying to get the coffee maker to work (it’s unplugged)

Have we tried turning it off and on again ?

“Yeah!”

“Well I’m out of ideas then.”

Cutest sleepiest duo

Probably falls asleep on you while waiting for his food to heat up in the microwave

Probably the reason you’re up so early in the first place

Cradles his espresso while he watches you crack eggs into the trash can and put the shells in a bowl

“My love?”

“Hm? Why are you making that face?”

“Because you poured the coffee straight onto the counter, my darling.”

Finds it endearing until you make a mess

You get scolded but he’ll help you clean up (and be showered with kisses you won’t remember because you’re too tired)

Used to getting up early, so he’s freaked out until he realizes you’re just groggy

Frets over you like a little mother hen when you handle utensils

“Are you sure you should be using that?”

“Well how am I going to cut this bagel?”

“Well, probably not with that spoon.”

Will absolutely start making breakfast for you if he feels your sleepiness is getting in the day

Offers to wake you up by putting his cold hands on your neck

Isn’t a morning person either

Probably contributes to your morning grogginess by hanging onto you and hindering any progress (or lack thereof)

“You’ve just brewed the coffee with milk.”

“Oh. Wait, what?”

“Mh, nevermind.”

Physically cannot help you with any morning skin routine because he’s trying to differentiate between his shampoo and conditioner

He puts the conditioner on first.

Usually wakes up in the early afternoon/late morning so he misses your morning mishaps

It’s a wonder the house hasn’t burnt to the ground

“G’morning ‘m’more

“Form, it’s two in the evening

“Why do you look like you just got up?”

(It’s because you also sleep in)

Any noises you make prior to waking him up are probably not heard because he snores so loud

#la squadra x reader #risotto nero x reader #ghiaccio x reader #melone x reader #prosciutto x reader #pesci x reader #illuso x reader #formaggio x reader

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cherryblossom-chopper · 1 year

Text

》Coming Home《

Content: Borsalino Fluff. Ambiguous Reader.

————— ୨୧ —————

A yawn tumbles out from Borsalino’s lungs, despite his effort to keep it in. His eyelids fight to stay open as the admiral ship begins its docking procedures. His hand drifts to his pocket for the tenth time that night. Borsalino’s fingers curl around the small porcelain rabbit figurine he bought earlier that day.

Despite the late hour he couldn’t wait to give it to you. Borsalino knows you’ll be awake, you never sleep well when he’s away. He finds it rather precious that you worry for him, even though he’s nearly invisible.

The ship jerks to a halt as it finally docks. Borsalino rubs his face in an attempt to bring life back to his features. If he looks too worn out, you’ll fret, and he doesn’t think that fits your pretty face.

Borsalino is one of the first to set foot on solid land. His heart longs to return to you, to the home you both share, to the bed he’s certain you’re comfortable in, but his feet take him in the opposite direction. Akinu will not wait till morning, so Borsalino walks toward the headquarters.

Outwardly, Borsalino seems to be his average self, calm, sarcastic, and confident, beneath that is an agitated exhausted man aching for his spouse. Each motion feels painful; his tongue feels dry in his mouth as he dictates his report to Akinu. Borsalino’s mind barely registers the higher ups' response and he’s the first to vanish upon dismissal.

Returning home always felt nerve wracking whenever Borsalino stood just before the threshold. There is always a lingering fear that you won’t be there or that he would stumble across you torn apart by his enemies. He fears what could happen to you when he’s not around to protect you. Not a single marine can protect as well as he can.

After a final deep breath, Borsalino passes the threshold of his home. He calls for you, but doesn’t have to wait long before you come running into view. Waves of relief crash over him and Borsalino’s muscles slacken.

“You’re home,” you say smiling, nearly crashing into him. You wrap your arms around your husband and squeeze him as if he will disappear in a flash out light again. The feeling of his strong arms hugging you tight is instantly soothing.

“I missed you,” you say, rubbing your face into his chest. The scent of the sea still thick on his uniform.

“Missed you too, sugar,” Borsalino replies, smiling. His heart thrums in his chest as he holds you. You're safe and he can be confident that you’ll be safe as long as you're by his side. He kisses your forehead, and rubs your back.

“I got you something,” he says, finishing out the rabbit trinket from his pocket. He places it in your palm, smirking at the difference in hand sizes. You seem so delicate compared to his hulking size, Borsalino finds it so endearing. He wants to care for you, to treasure you, to protect you, so his short stack spouse being delicate is rather nice.

You would disagree with his sentiment about being delicate, but you let him think whatever he needs to. Partly because he does tower over you, but you are also placated by the little trinkets he offers you.

You examine the little rabbit in your palm, smiling. “It’s so cute,” you say, running your fingers over its fragile ears, “Thank you. I love him.”

Boraslino leans down closer to you, silently requesting a kiss. When you kiss him, his lips curve into a smile. He has missed you so much more than you will ever know. He leans into your hand when you caress his cheek.

“I’m gonna go find a spot for this little guy,” you say, pecking your husband's lips. You disappear into the house, searching for shelf space. Your home was cluttered with these little trinkets, Borsalino always brought you a gift from the different places he’s been. Never once has he brought you along, but you know he tries to make up for that with these gifts.

You rest the porcelain rabbit on a shelf next to another rabbit figure, before yawning. With Borsalino home, you feel a deep exhaustion sinking into your bones. You always stayed up rather late when he was away just in case he came home that night.

You find him in your bedroom. He tossed his clothes into a pile on the floor and made himself comfortable in bed. A smile crosses your face seeing him so at peace. When his eyes meet yours, Borsalino waves you over. You waste no time slipping into bed with him. His warmth made the bed feel more like home.

Borsalino tucks you close to his chest. He hums in contentment when you drape an arm over his side. “Finally,” he murmurs, eyes drooping shut. The marine drifts in a deep sleep as the tension melts from his muscles. At last being home set him at peace.

————— ୨୧ —————

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#cherryblossom chopper #one piece #fluff #short piece #domestic #x reader #they/them reader #sweetheart saturday #one piece x reader #borsalino #borsalino x reader #kizaru borsalino #kizaru x reader #Kizaru

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aubins · 2 months

Note

[ 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦 ] : receiver hears sender calling their name while asleep. / because she does dream of them every now and then—maybe more often than she wants to admit. sometimes she dreams when the guilt grows too heavy, sometimes she dreams when she misses the flowers too much. other times she dreams when she feels phantom restraints from old lessons—but most of all, she dreams, when her chest starts to ache.

so bernadetta curls into herself, choking up, struggling to breathe over things she can't say. she grips her own shaking sleeves, brows pinched and jaw set. the wet of her eyelashes beads at the corners. between the clumsy sobs of their name, a litany of apologies and more mumbles stirs the still air.

[ 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦 ] : receiver hears sender calling their name while asleep.　╱　for you i would

Bernadetta is not in her room.

It is the first place they look for her when they return, especially when they’re away for long. Because Bernadetta frets and worries no matter their reassurances that they won’t die, and it’s never an inconvenience to stop by to say hello if it puts her mind at ease. The door might be shut, because it always is, but when their knuckles rap a steady familiar rhythm against the wood, it surprises them more that the expected greeting does not meet them.

“Bernadetta?” But they already know she is not there, spin on their heel to scan the courtyard. Surely not in the classrooms, and in the wake of the Battle of the Eagle and Lion, the infirmary is still too busy for her to comfortably hide in. The dining hall is bustling with the lunch rush and all the paths and corners leading to it are too.

And lilacs settle at last on the greenhouse in the distance, then they set off without another word.

Of course she’s there, curled up in a corner and mumbling incoherently. Because even if Yuri had been able to leave the garden all those years ago, Bernadetta had been left behind within its walls. And though they might not remember much of how to garden at all anymore, they remember how she loved those flowers.

(It will never be fair. Yuri cannot offer their heart as easily as she can, didn’t relearn that when they had to relearn how to walk first, how to smile to get what they wanted. And then, they never had to learn it again.)

“Bernadetta,” they breathe her name in relief, kneel down to take her into their arms. A bed will be kinder to her back than the cold hard floors. Yuri knows that well. “Come on. Time to leave the greenhouse.”

Not forever; just for now. For how can a chained bird free another?

And sometimes, it’s strange. That Bernadetta is here— that they both are. Because for years, hers had been the ghost that shadowed every failure, the girl they failed to kill that still haunted like one. And now she’s solid and real before them once more. They can shush her when she stirs, hum an old lullaby to lull her back to sleep, tuck her properly under blankets and over pillows.

Yuri shouldn’t— can’t— stay for long. Not for Bernadetta, or anyone else on the surface, when someone could come looking for them at any moment. Not when some of the knights eye them with a mean gleam in their eye— and even if they don’t know their names or faces, they know their purpose. That Yuri killed some friend or lover or family that day that damned them to Abyss.

So even if they venture out to see the light, at the end of the day, they will always return to the shadows. They must.

Careful hands whittle away at the beginnings of the goddess statuette in their hands, gaze drifting once or twice to her prone figure. The carving knife flips in their hand, draws against where the goddess’ neck might be as they watch the steady rise and fall of her chest.

(That’s strange too. How much she trusts them when Yuri could draw a knife against her throat at any moment.)

But then her breathing turns erratic, her body shakes and shivers, and Yuri is lurching from their perch by the window before they even realize, a bird suddenly in flight. They flit here and there around her, tugging off the covers as though she has some injury they hadn’t seen, as though any scars she has were not instead mental, as though there is anything they can do but stand dumbly over her.

“Bernadetta? What’s wrong?” But she doesn’t hear them, still trapped in her dreams. Half the things she babbles are nonsense, slurred in the heavy drawl of sleep, but they recognize the I’m sorry’s— with how often she apologizes, how could they not?— amidst it all. And then the name.

Not Yuri. In fact, they hadn’t even realized what she was saying until they’d drawn close, a hand outstretched to rouse her. But she hadn’t known ‘Yuri’ first at all, had she? Because it’s not their name, just like Jules isn’t either. There are only two people in the world who know their true name: one will never speak it and the other can only write it. And when they are both gone, no one will be left to remember Regulus.

They’re always lying to her; she’s always letting them. But she shouldn’t, she shouldn’t— last time it might have ended with a dagger in her throat, last time it might have killed her, so why does she?

“I’m here.” Hands ghost over her, unsure where to touch— unsure if to touch at all. Do they have that right? Hadn’t they lost it the first time they tried to lay their hands on her? “I’m here. Hey. Wake up, Bernadetta. I need you to breathe.”

And, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry too, gently thrums to the beat of their heart, to the rhythm of her own stream of apologies.

But Yuri is not as brave to voice it.

#hermidetta #❛　𝒊𝒏𝒃𝒐𝒙. 　 i worry that love is violence #RAGHHH #i had something half written for this and then i saw your answer to my ask and then i was. new plan!#thank uu for sending sen!!#i hold them both so gently in my hands they are everything to me

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bettysupremacy · 1 year

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Hi! How are you? I hope everything is well :) I saw that your requests open and I wanted to request a James Potter fic where the reader is a bit insecure when it comes to romantic stuff because she has never dated anyone so when James and the reader start dating she gets really shy about everything and James helps her feel comfortable with all of it maybe? I hope you like the idea! Thanks in advance :)

hey babe! thank you for the request I hope you like how it turned out

James stands in the bathroom, sink running, caps clicking. The sight and sound is a kind of domestic you’ve never felt before. This freaks you out.

“You wanna pick a movie, dovey?” It’s warped and bubbly from a mouthful of toothpaste, but you understand.

When he’d asked you to spent the night you hadn’t realized the intense bellyache of anxiety you’d get sitting in his bed, in his shirt, in his socks, waiting for him to be finished in the bathroom. If you had, you would’ve backed out.

You’re fingers fumble through his dark blue comforter. His room is so him, it’s a little suffocating. The remotes not here. Blue comforter, tee shirt thrown over his bed, circle framed glasses on a nightstand. His bedside table catches your eye. It’s in there.

You simply cannot open that drawer. You’re already suffocating in the intimacy of his room, you can’t also fall into the depths of his most personal drawer. He notices, wiping his mouth and jogging to the bed.

“Sorry.” He swiftly opens the drawer and tosses you the remote. It lands in your lap with the cushion of his blanket. “You ok?”

“I’ve never done this before.” You frown embarrassed.

“Slept over at my flat?” He breathes out, suppressing a smile. ”God, I hope you haven’t done that. D’be a bit weird, bug.”

You breathe a laugh but it comes out wonky. He frowns. “What’re you worried about?”

“I don’t know.” You whisper. His hands grab yours, thumbs working into your skin.

“Y’don’t gotta be nervous.” He smiles. “We’re just watching a movie is all.”

“And sleeping.” You add. “In the same bed.”

“Sleeping is what you’re worried about?” He teases. “You’ll be unconscious, I think that’s the least of your worries.”

You smile, genuine smile, this makes james proud. “What if I hog the blanket?”

“As long as you’re warm.”

“Stop.”

“What!” He laughs. “As long as my baby’s warm I’m content.”

You shake your head. “What If get too close? I’ve never shared a bed.”

“Baby, if you think that’s a problem..”

“I’m serious.” You give weakly.

“I’m serious! If you mind your personal space I won’t mind mine.”

The stare is silent but the smile on his face has you fighting off your own. He takes his hands back, bringing them up to your face. Rubbing the rough surface of his rugby palms over your cheeks, you lean into the touch.

“Seriously, baby,” he murmurs, “don’t fret it.”

You nod. Letting him take in your face.

Slowly, very slowly, he pushes you back. You almost don’t notice but the way his hands come down to your shoulders brings nerves back into your belly.

“I like when you’re in my personal space.”

He lays on you like a weighted blanket. Though, you can’t feel a weighted blanket breathe. Head in the spongy pillows, your fingers come up and tangle in his curls.

“This is nice.” You mutter.

“See?” You can feel him sigh. “Don’t let anxiety eat you.”

“Okay.”

“There’s nothing to be anxious over, you’re safe.”

“I know.” You mumble again.

He looks up at you. “You getting tired? Should we skip the movie?”

“No, put it on.” Your head shakes as much as it Can laying down. “I won’t fall asleep.”

“You liar!” He affably laughs. He can feel your giggles against his chest. “Can I at least get a kiss before we start the movie and you don’t fall asleep?”

“Mhm.”

The kiss he plants to your lips is warm and sturdy. He sits there for a second, too long to be chaste, to quick to be deep. When he pulls back you’re smiling.

“Y’ready?” He pushes some hair from your face. “You pick a movie?”

“No.”

He groans loudly, dropping back down on you. “What would you do without me?”

#james potter #james potter x reader #james potter x you #james potter x y/n #james x y/n #james x you #marauders #hp #Harry Potter #james potter imagine #james potter fluff #james potter blurb #james potter x y/n fluff

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bundrops-n-fluffytops · 1 year

Text

Welcome Home Agere Fic - Sleepover

Characters: Barnaby B. Beagle, Wally Darling, Home, slight mention of Sally Starlet

Setting: Home (kitchen, living room, bedroom, hallway, bathroom)

Premise: Wally is confident that he can handle things on his own, but one bad night makes it clear that he isn’t all that self-reliant. That doesn’t mean it’s bad, however, as his best friend Barnaby has all the help in the world.

Authors Note: My second fic!! Again treat it nicely, I’m new to this

Also thank you for enjoying the last one!! I’m super proud of both of them, so I’m glad you like it too 💕💕

—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—

As friendly and amiable as Wally Darling was, he sure was stubborn.

Wally wasn’t someone to ask for help much, despite his efforts to help others. It seemed comically hypocritical if anything, with the irony behind it.

For example, if Sally were to ask him to lead in a play she wanted to play, he would make sure he carried the show with his own hands. However, if someone were to offer a hand in something, he would simply wave his hand and say, “No no, I can take care of it! Don’t fret over such small things.”

His best friend - Barnaby B. Beagle - took notice of that quite well, when he and Wally decided to have a sleepover.

The two had done just about everything together that day; prank calls on the other neighbors, baking a new recipe - caramel apples - and even future telling, albeit with paper crafts and silly myths. Of course, in the end, they both had lots of fun, vowing that they must do this more.

It was later that night that issues had began to rise. The two nighttime buddies had began to clean up and get ready to snooze, and were in the washroom brushing their teeth(?).

“Wally, kid, are you sure you can sleep on your own? I know you’ve done it before, but most of the time you either stay up the whole night or wake up-“ Barnaby questioned Wally. Yes, it was a silly, silly question, but he wasn’t unfamiliar with Wally’s ungodly night schedule. And with how frequent this was, neither were the other residents of Welcome Home.

“Barnaby, I admire your concern greatly, but I do think that is quite silly. I can sleep just fine,” Wally assured, waving his hand up and down.

“One or two bad nights won’t do anything, I can handle it!” He chuckled. Wally was well aware of the terrible night terrors he had, but he of course wasn’t ready to admit that. He just leaves with his same pleasant grin.

“I dunno kid, you usually say that then turn up at Julie’s doorstep wrapped in your blanket sniffling like it’s winter again,” Barnaby quipped back, laughing at his own joke. Wally fell silent for a moment, thinking for a short second, before cleaning his mouth of the toothpaste on his cheeks. He then turned to his blue buddy, and pat him on the arm reassuringly.

“I know you’re upset, but I assure you I’m fine. When anything happens, I know that I can always rely on you, so don’t you worry your pretty little head,” he reassures, his ever-so present grin almost glowing on his face, and in his eyes. He always had such a sunny, polite disposition.

“Ahh, if you say so little buddy,” Barnaby sighed and shook his head, though with a playful smirk on his face. He pat his much tinier friend and walked away towards the guest room, peaking out quickly to say his goodnights with Wally. Afterwards, he closed the door behind him and laid down on top of the bed…right after he pulled the sheets and pillows around to make it comfortable. Dog instincts never fail.

Home fell into a peaceful slumber shortly after, and the only sound one could hear was the crickets outside and Wally’s silly “I’m sleeping I’m sleeping I’m sleeping” sleeptalking.

—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—

Barnaby wasn’t sure what woke him up, but his tired eyes soon fluttered open. He groaned, irritated, and rubbed his eyes to better clear up his vision.

The clock read 3:41 AM, which sent Barnaby in a sleepy tizzy. What in the world woke me up this early? He yawned and stretched his body, shaking his head awake afterwards.

“A glass of water might help clear my head,” he guessed, “my throat is drier than an old queen!” He chuckled to himself afterwards. He might use that in his routine. But before that, he needed to quench his thirst.

It didn’t take two steps out of his room when he heard something… odd. His ears raised a tad at the sound, turning his head behind him. Was that… a baby crying?

There was no way he heard a baby. But it was so clear and the pitch was the same, he was thrown for a loop. And what in the world was a baby doing in Home? He didn’t remember there being one… unless it isn’t one. Barnaby wracked his brain for another idea of what the source of the crying could be…until he remembered.

“Wally has nightmares!” He realized. At that moment, he rushed towards the true source of the sound - Wally’s bedroom. It wasn’t far from his guest room, as it was set at the tail end of the long hallway, capped with a red wood and a sign that said “Wally.”

Barnaby didn’t think to knock, which he somewhat regrets, before he quickly pushed the door open.

There sat the culprit of the mysterious crying - Wally, wrapped around his blanket, sobbing and hiccuping in bed. He jumped a bit at the sound of Barnaby barging in, falling silent in surprise. However, it didn’t take long until he went back to crying, only this time he held out his arms towards the tall blue dog.

Barnaby was no stranger to this behavior. He has seen Wally in this sort of situation, where his brain seemed to work much differently. It was called… regression, where his brain and his age didn’t seem to match up for a period of time. In times like this, Wally would have a habit of babbling and slurring his words, as well as taking part of childish behaviors such as playing with smaller toys and looking up to others as his caretakers. It wasn’t a problem though, no sir, as they would be more than welcome to help take care of him in such a state, Barnaby included.

With that, Barnaby quickly climbed into the bed with Wally, scooped him up and held him against his torso, patting and rubbing his back. Wally quickly wrapped his arms around his neck and buried his face into the taller friend’s shoulder, still crying.

“Deep breaths, kid,” Barnaby whispered, “there you go, that’s it.” He would act as the big brother towards Wally when he regressed, carrying him and playing with him to help him through such a time. Because of this, he knew what actions to take in this.

Soon, Wally’s crying and snuffling soon quieted to an occasional hiccup and wipe of a sleeve. He laid there, cradled against Barbaby’s chest, shaking but breathing slowly. He was the first to speak.

“I…I’m sowey…” he wavered, “I’m sowy I like tis.” He tried wiping away any stray tears while flapping his free hand, calming himself down.

“I din’ wan yous to worry fo’ me, bu’ I keep makin’ yous worry..” He was having a hard time keeping his voice steady, and he ended up going back to crying, albeit softer. His taller friend immediately rose a hand to wipe his newly fallen tears, propping his head to face him.

“No Wally, don’t ever feel bad for wanting help,” the blue dog reassured, “even if it makes you feel weird. I know that asking is hard and that you don’t want to look weak or anything, but there is nothing wrong with needing a helping hand. You got that, kiddo?” The tiny puppet nuzzled against Barnaby’s paw, hiccuping a tad.

“Wh-what if is sometin’ you can’t do?” Wally asked. The comedian chuckled a bit, rubbing the puppet’s back.

“Well then I’ll tell ya! I’m not gonna be silent if you’re giving me something hard to handle, and even then I tell ya you’re not hard to deal with at all! Just ring me up and I’ll be there quicker than a toupee in a hurricane.” He moved his hand to ruffle his hair a bit, letting out a small giggle in Wally.

“You’re silly! Silly silly puppyyy, hehe!” Wally reached his hands up to pet the top of Barnaby’s head, back and forth. The comedian responded by grabbing Wally by the sides and lifting him to the air, the puppet squealing with delight and surprise.

“There ya go, now the dog’s got you on a leash, hahaha!” This only made Wally screech and laugh even more, waving his arms and legs aimlessly beside himself. This teasing unfortunately didn’t last long, if the loud creaking from Home said anything. Despite Wally pouting in response, Barnaby lowered the small puppet down onto bed once more.

“Let’s get ya back to bed buddy, ok?” Wally frowned at this, seeming upset again that the fun was over. “Is something wrong?”

“Nono, jus… can you stay wit’ me? I don’ wan to be awone…” Wally pleaded, holding the puppy’s paw tightly. Barnaby hummed and nodded, understanding his disarray.

“Of course, buddy! Lemme get comfortable for ya, one sec,” Barnaby answered, yawning afterwards. It was still quite late, so he was getting quite sleepy as well. He turned and trotted along the bed, pushing around and covers to get comfy before finally lying down. Wally followed suit, encasing himself in his favorite blanket - orange with white flowers - and lying against Barnaby’s body.

“Nini, baba… I luv oo,” Wally mumbled, before sticking his thumb between his lips and falling silent. Barnaby smiled warmly after that, before lying his head down to rest too.

“Gnight kiddo, love you too.”

#gwaaaaaa little Wally #I’m scared i portrayed him incorrectly here #please give me any sort of critique needed!!!#it helps a lot #Also create more agere content for welcome home pls #welcome home arg #welcome home #welcome home puppet show #welcome home wally #wally darling #welcome home barnaby #barnaby b beagle #welcome home agere #agere positivity #agere fic #agere #sfw regression #sfw agere #gummunity fics

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wordofthewicked · 2 years

Text

Showtime- Paul Lahote

Fic description: A chance meeting one sunny afternoon on La Push brings you face to face with Paul Lahote. Your strange connection with him, and the fact that it was his soccer ball that broke your nose, you were wrapped up into an unseen world that lived in tandem with yours. How far are you willing to go for true love? How far are you willing to go to protect the people you love?

TW: underage drinking, drug use (weed), disgusting fluff

Showtime Masterlist

General Masterlist

Part Seven

To say that I am overwhelmed is an understatement. The amount of love this story has received recently is nothing short of insane. I’ve been writing online since I was 11, and I’ve never had so much love like this. I see every comment, reply, reblog, like, message- even if I don’t respond right away. It makes my heart happy that you guys love this little silly story like I do. I’ve got several more works I’m writing currently (Jacob, Seth, Embry, and a fun little Embry and Paul) that I’m planning to begin uploading soon. Thank you for your support and encouragement, it revitalized my love for writing in a way I didn’t know was possible. Part nine might be on a delay, as I head back to school in a few days! But don’t fret, I won’t make you wait too long! Feel free to send in requests, I’m working on some rn for Paul! I write for any of the boys, plus the Cullen’s as well!

~~~

Part Eight

The night you spent alone at Paul’s house was nothing short of magical, but in the coming days, you felt a sort of shift in your relationship. Paul was more physically affectionate than ever before, much to the dismay of the pack. Yet, whenever you caught him staring at you, it seemed like an unspoken question was hung on the tip of his tongue.

You two managed to spend nearly none of your time alone, always having some assortment of the pack by your side. Once Tuesday had rolled around, you were sure he was doing it on purpose.

You didn’t have it in your heart to question him, afraid that maybe he regret iti ted sleeping with you, or taking the relationship that far. It seemed silly to worry, since neither of you were virgins and you were basically bound together as soulmates. Still, every time you thought you’d have the courage to ask, someone would come barging through, ruining the moment.

By Thursday, you’d had enough. During a usual hang out with the pack, you’d all decided to marathon as many horror movies you could scrounge up at Blockbuster. You were curled against Paul’s side, your mind not focused at all on the movies.

Without speaking, you stood up, turning to walk through the kitchen and out the side door. You were certain Paul would follow you, and your confirmation came at the sound of the screen door falling shut.

“Y/N? Baby, what’s wrong?” He asked, his voice so soft and full of concern. “Did the movies get to you?”

You laughed a little, shaking your head. “No, it’s not the movies. I’m just… what’s going on with you?”

Paul furrowed his eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

“It seems like ever since we… you’ve just been avoiding me.” You answered, your anger fading away.

“I don’t understand, babe. We’ve been together every day.”

You sighed, running your hand down your face. “That’s not what I meant. We’ve been with the boys every day. I don’t want to monopolize your time, but I figured, I don’t know, that we’d spend more time together? Just us, you know?”

Paul frowned, moving to close the gap between you two. “I’m sorry, I thought you liked hanging out with them.”

“I do! It’s just… was I that bad in bed that you regret it?”

Paul paused for a second, before bursting out in laughter. His head was thrown back slightly, and his whole body shook.

You slapped his arm, your eyes widening in shock. “Paul! I’m serious!”

“I know, that’s what makes it funny!” He answered, resting his hands on your hips. “Why the hell would you think I didn’t enjoy having sex with you?”

“Because it feels like you’re trying to prevent it from happening again.” You drawled, not understanding his confusion. “You’re sending me such mixed signals, honestly. You’re practically on top of me 24/7, but you’re afraid to be alone with me. I feel like I’ve done something wrong.”

Paul pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. “That was the second most amazing day of my life, baby, believe me. I just wanted to give you some space, since we had promised to take it as friends, first. I thought I’d let you process it without feeling like you needed to discuss it with me.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re an idiot?” You questioned, grabbing his face with your hands. “Why on earth would I want space? I wanted to talk about it, dumbass.”

The door of Emily’s cabin swung open again, and Seth poked his head out. “Paul, Y/N? Everything okay?”

Paul stiffened at his voice, and turned around to tell him off. You jumped in first, pushing away from him and smiling at Seth “Yes! I just wanted to stretch my legs for a bit. We’re coming back now.”

You ambled up the wooden stairs, and pushed yourself in past the younger boy. The lights inside the living room were now on, and the half the pack was standing around.

“We decided to take a snack break,” Embry explained, opening another bag of popcorn. “Jared ate all the popcorn.”

You laughed, shaking your head at the boys’ unrelenting hunger. Emily was giving you a curious glance, and she swept across the kitchen to lean over the counter and eye you and Paul. “You two alright?”

You nodded, sending her a quick smile. You glanced back at Paul and saw his jaw was tense, and his gaze was fixated on your figure. You nudged him playfully with your shoulder, and he broke out of his trance to capture you in a hug. He pressed his chest against your back, wrapping his arms around your waist.

“We need to talk, Y/N.” He spoke, his voice deep.

“Later,” you whispered, trying your best not to draw attention to yourselves.

It didn’t work. Even without their supernatural hearing, the pack had definitely picked up on the strange vibe shift between you two. You didn’t want to make things awkward, and you knew that Paul was likely delaying your conversation because he was avoiding the inevitable. Your relationship had changed, things weren’t the same as before.

Did you want to make things completely official? You’d been planning to move across the country for the last four years of your life, and attaching yourself to Paul would only complicate that further. Yet, you were already attached, in a way that no time or distance could change. You were meant to be together, and each day that passed just made that clearer.

You wiggled out of Paul’s grasp, turning around to kiss him gently, before you excused yourself to the bathroom. When you had closed and locked the door, you flipped your phone open and tried to think of some excuse to head home. It was still early, and your curfew wasn’t for another two hours. Still, you decided the best thing to do would be to leave, so you could think without prying eyes, or Paul’s intoxicating scent. You held your phone up to your ear, silently wondering why you were making such a show of it when you were alone.

“Hey dad, what’s up?” You spoke to no one, knowing that your voice would carry to the living room. “Ugh, seriously? No one else can come get you guys?”

You paused, trying to make it seem like there was your father’s soft pleas on the other end of the line. “Fine, I’ll be there in like 45. Yeah, love you too.”

You flipped your phone shut and slid it back into your pocket, before flushing the toilet and washing your hands to make things seem normal. You took a deep breath, ready for the amazing show you were about to put on. When you reappeared in the living room, you donned your best bummed face.

Paul furrowed his eyebrows at you, trying to seem like he hadn’t obviously listened into your fake phone call. “Everything alright babe?”

“Yeah, everything’s fine. My parents were heading back from dinner in Port Angelous and got a flat. The jack’s in my trunk, so they need me to come get them. I’m afraid I’ll have to cut movie night short for me.” You explained, moving to put on your jacket.

Paul frowned, meeting you with your coat and helping you put it on. “Do you want me to come with you? I could help change the tire and then we could head back here when we’re done.”

You smiled and kissed him, holding his hands in yours. “As sweet as that is, I’ll probably just go home after I get to them. It’ll be easier than driving around all night. I’ll see you on Sunday though, right?”

“Right.” He repeated, his face clearly disappointed. “Well, let me at least walk you to your car.”

“Always the gentleman, Lahote.” You winked, standing on your toes to give him one last kiss, before biding everyone else a goodbye.

When you got into your car, you drove back home, your parents confused to see you so early. You explained you were tired from the day and didn’t want to be out driving late, and they appreciated your foresight.

You raced up to your room, turning on your ancient computer and waiting for it to finish loading up. You headed to your email and clinked on the acceptance link for John Hopkins, staring at the words on the white screen.

With your heart beating wildly in your chest, you clicked decline.

~~~

The party was on full swing, and your head was spinning as you stumbled outside.

“Y/N? You alright?” Mike asked, following after you.

You sighed, shaking your head. “Tyler’s been cornering me. I’m just gonna call Paul to come get me.”

Mike frowned at this, but didn’t press. Instead he pulled a brownie in a sandwich bag out of his pocket and broke it in half. “Snack for the road?”

You laughed and accepted it, eating it as you dialed the familiar number. Paul answered on the second ring, his deep voice concerned. “Hey, are you okay? What’s going on?”

“Can you come pick me up? I’ll text you the address.” You asked, avoiding his question.

You could hear shuffling and the jingling of keys. “On my way, where are you?”

You gave him Tyler’s address, and shortly hung up the phone, trying to pass the time until he got there. You probably had over half an hour, unless he floored it there, which you wouldn’t put past Paul.

Someone reached for your arm, and you jumped, turning to see Jessica’s smiling face. She was definitely a few drinks in at that point, but still much more sober than you were.

“Jess, you scared the hell out of me.” You enthused, grabbing her arm.

She rolled her eyes, steadying your swaying frame. “What’s this I hear about you leaving?”

“Paul’s coming to get me.”

“Y/N, you’re drunk as hell. You aren’t leaving with some random guy.” Jessica argued, her drink sloshing a bit as she flourished her arms in emphasis.

“He’s not some random guy, he’s my boyfriend.” You reminded her, giggling at her confused face. “How much have you had to drink?”

Jessica frowned, raising an eyebrow at you. “Are you high right now?”

You stopped and widened your eyes. “No, I’m on the ground.

“Christ.” She muttered, smiling at you. “You’re gone.”

“I’m right here.” You joked, nudging her arm playfully.

You saw a familiar figure traipsing his way across the lawn, and Jessica followed your gaze. You weren’t sure how so much time had passed, but perhaps that had more to do with the edible in your system than anything else.

Jessica smiled widely, eyeing up Paul as he approached. “Hey, I’m Jessica.”

Paul gave her a quick glance, but his eyes returned on your messy appearance. “Paul. How much have they had to drink?”

Understanding lit up Jessica’s features. “Ooooh, you’re Paul, I see. Uhm, I’m not honestly sure. I only saw them take three shots, but they were playing beer pong for a few hours, so…”

“Lovely. Alright babe, let’s get you home.” Paul laughed, coming over to wrap his arms around you.

You nearly melted into his touch, half jumping into his strong arms. “I can’t go hooooome. Not like this.”

“I know, I know, I’m going to take you to Emily and Sam’s cabin to sober up.” He responded, as you stumbled a bit into him.

You giggled, glee filling up your face. “Oh I love it there. Will everyone else be around, too?”

Paul laughed at you, shaking his head. “Probably. Though I don’t think they’re going to be prepared for you.”

“Carry me.” You demanded, jumping up suddenly, so Paul had no choice but to catch you.

He scooped you into his grasp gently, laughing again. He thanked Jessica, who was still slightly open mouthed and staring at him.

Paul carried you and placed you in the passenger seat of his truck, buckling you in before moving to the other side to get into his seat. He started the car and headed towards La Push, while you incoherently began telling him about the party. You were definitely nearly yelling, but he didn’t seem to mind.

Once you arrived at the cabin, Paul opened your door and lifted you up, cradling you against his chest. You snuggled into him a bit, inhaling his familiar scent deeply.

“Try your best to not be too obviously drunk, alright? I don’t want us to get lectured by Sam.” Paul whispered as you stepped into the porch.

You nodded furiously, but knew that Sam could probably smell the alcohol on you from where you were now. Paul opened the door and walked in, setting you down on your feet. You stumbled a bit, but leaned against his side for support, and wrapped an arm around his middle. You shot the group a wide smile, and they returned your gaze with a knowing look.

“I’ve already lost my chance to seem sober, haven’t I?” You asked, your face red and warm.

They all nodded, Quil laughing loudly. “We knew you’d be drunk as soon as Paul said he was picking you up. You don’t leave a party before 12 if you’re not super fucked up.”

Emily snipped at him for his language, while you giggled to yourself.

“Actually, for your information Mr… wait what’s your last name? You know what, it doesn’t matter. What was I saying? Oh yeah, I did not leave the party because I was too fucked up. I left because Tyler kept flirting with me and he was making me uncomfortable.” You drawled out, giggling as you struggled to find the right words to say.

Paul looked down at you, his eyebrows furrowing in concern. “Baby, why didn’t you tell me that? I would have sorted him out.”

You giggled again, stumbling as you moved back to place a hand on his chest. “Well because Mr. Lahote, see I know what your last name is, I didn’t want you to wolf out on a stupid 17 year old at his house party. Would’ve caused a lot of problems, and I’ll be honest with you, I am waaaaaay too drunk to have helped you calm down.”

Paul stiffened a bit at your words. “You don’t think I can control myself?”

You sighed, your limbs becoming tired as the alcohol kept seeping into your body. “I don’t know, either way it would’ve made a scene. And I didn’t wanna have to explain why my boyfriend was trying to fight the party host.”

He sucked in a sharp breath, and his grasp on your waist tightened. “Boyfriend?”

You stared at him in confusion, your mind too slow to comprehend what he was confused about. “Is that the wrong word? Isn’t it boyfriend? Boyfriend… boyfriend… boyfriend. Well now it doesn’t even seem like a word.”

Paul laughed lightly, shaking his head. “You’ve just never called me that before.”

“Oh,” you furrowed your eyebrows, your mind beginning to process the situation. “Is… I mean is that not what this is? Are we like, platonic talking everyday, and falling asleep on the phone, and kissing? That doesn’t feel platonic to me.”

“It’s definitely not platonic, no.” He confirmed, moving forward to hold both of your hips.

You smiled up at him, standing on your toes to kiss his nose lightly. “Well, then you’re my boyfriend. Calling you my soulmate feels too cliché to me, plus other people wouldn’t understand.”

Paul laughed at you, kissing your forehead. “No, boyfriend is good. Great even. I just didn’t expect it.”

“Well that’s what you get for making me wait a week to talk to you about it.” You replied, your head lolling over on your shoulder, the weight of it becoming unnecessarily heavy. “You’re my boyfriend, Paul. Even told Jessica and everything.”

Suddenly you became overly aware of your breathing, feeling like it had become manual. You took a step back and closed your eyes as the room began to sway around you in that familiar way. Between calling Paul to pick you up and heading outside of Tyler’s house, Mike had slipped you an edible, and you had forgotten about it until this moment, until it hit you like a bus.

“Woah- you alright?” Paul asked, seeing you sway on your feet.

You giggled in response, nodding happily. “M’fine.”

“You don’t look fine.” He murmured, his eyes taking in your face in concern.

You hummed a bit, falling into his arms dramatically as you laughed. “I am absolutely fantastic, actually.”

“You definitely can’t bring them home like this.” Emily commented, frowning slightly. “You both can stay here for the night.”

“I’m supposed to stay at Bella’s.” You responded, leaning back drastically so Paul had to hold you in a dip. “Oh well, now I didn’t plan on how to get back to Bella’s.”

“I’ll text my dad and tell him we’re staying here.” Bella spoke, pulling out her flip phone.

You squealed upon hearing her voice, pushing away from Paul to stumble over to the loveseat she was curled up on. “Bella! It’s Bella, oh my gosh I didn’t even see you! Bella!”

Bella laughed, shaking her head. “It’s me, Y/N.”

“How has your night been?” You asked, leaning against the armrest of her chair.

“Much less exciting than yours was, I presume.” She responded, smiling up at you.

You hummed in thought, before frowning. “My feet hurt.”

Paul walked over to you, a backpack in hand. “Alright, let’s get you comfortable.”

Bella stood up to give you her seat, and you plopped down numbly, giggling as you ran your hands over the soft blanket that she had left behind. Paul kneeled down in front of you, and you furrowed your eyebrows as he unzipped the backpack.

“What is that?” You asked, leaning forward in interest.

Paul chuckled, unzipping your heels and tugging them off, before replacing them with a pair of soft fuzzy socks. “It’s my go bag for you. I figured since you’d be spending a lot of time down here, I should have a stock of things you might need, that way you’re always comfortable.”

You leaned forward even more, peering down into it. “What did you get for it?”

“Uhm, let’s see… the socks, makeup remover wipes, deodorant, hair ties, a hair brush, tooth brush, toothpaste, pads, tampons, chocolate, pain killers, and some snacks so your blood sugar doesn’t get low again. Oh, and I have a pair of my pajamas in here as well, just in case.” He responded, digging through the bag as he spoke.

You didn’t reply, staring at him wide eyed. Paul shifted under your gaze, discomfort flooding through his body.

“Is that weird? I wanted to help make the transition of being here easier on you. Emily helped me pick things out. I live with my dad and brothers, so I didn’t have any of this stuff at my house. I didn’t want you to need something and not have it.” He spoke, rambling a bit as he became nervous.

You giggled, falling back into the chair and wiggling your toes in the fuzzy socks excitedly. “I am absolutely going to marry you one day, Paul Lahote.”

Paul paused at your words like he was stunned, before shaking his head and standing up. “Alright, let’s go get you changed into the pajamas. You can’t be comfortable in those clothes.”

You knew he was right- the tight red skirt and black bralette were both revealing and uncomfortable- but the thought of getting changed seemed like too much work. The room was still spinning, and your high was making you sleepy. “You can’t be comfortable in your clothes.”

He laughed, leaning forward to grab your hands and pull you up. “Jeez, Y/N, if you wanted me out of my clothes that badly, you should’ve said so earlier.”

You giggled at him, realizing how short you were without the aid of your heels. “You didn’t give me the chance, unless you wanted me to ask in front of the whole pack.”

“Do you need help getting changed?” Paul asked, holding tightly onto your waist, and doing his best to ignore your comment.

“Mmmm… maybe. It seems hard.” You replied, closing your eyes and resting your hands on his forearms. “Everything is hard. Except your skin, it’s so soft. Are you always this soft?”

“Uhm, I think so? Are you sure you’re alright?” He questioned, tilting his head at you.

You giggled in response, opening your eyes to look at him. “Can I tell you a secret? You can’t tell anyone else, okay? Mom and dad will get mad.”

“Mom and dad?” Bella repeated, confused.

You rolled your head to the side, resting it on your shoulder to look at her. “Yes, Sam and Emily. Mom and dad, or I guess dad and mom.”

“I could see that.” She replied, smiling.

“Right. Well, don’t tell them, but Mike gave me a special brownie.”

Paul sighed, wrapping his other arm around your waist. “So you’re cross faded right now?”

You hummed in response, pausing at the look on his face. “You don’t seem happy with me. I’m sorry- I shouldn’t have called. I just… I didn’t know what else to do.”

“No, no, no. I’m glad you did, baby. I just don’t have much experience caring for intoxicated people, and the weed isn’t going to help any.” He admitted, ushering you off toward the bathroom.

You stumbled into it, and Paul shut the door behind him as he placed the backpack on the counter. He began pulling things out, and you sat down on the toilet lid to wait. The room was still swaying slightly, and you felt uncomfortably warm with the substances flowing through you.

Paul grabbed your hands and stood you up again, his hands moving to your skirt before freezing. He silently asked for your permission, and you nodded. He unzipped the red fabric, and pulled it down your now bare legs. He kept his face forward as he held out his pajama pants for you to step into, and you held onto the counter as you did. Once they were on, he tied them tightly around your waist so they wouldn’t fall.

Paul looked at your bralette in confusion, trying to figure out a way to get it off of you. You giggled a bit, turning around to reveal the zipper that kept it together. He didn’t hesitate, pulling the metal down as the fabric split in half, and he tossed it on the floor. You felt him stiffen at the realization that you weren’t wearing a bra, and you turned around without hesitation. He kept his eyes trained on your face as he slid the shirt over your head, and you pushed your arms through it. He then sat you back down on the toilet, and took out a makeup remover wipe, before cleaning your face of the few layers you had painted on.

You felt your heart swell as he worked, watching the intense concentration on his face. You’d never had a guy treat you so gently and affectionately before, and it was taking everything in you not to wrap your arms around him. When he was finished, he pulled out your updo and had you turn to the side. Gently, he brushed your hair out of its knots, and ended up braiding it.

“Wow you’re good at that.” You admired, holding the finished product in your hair.

Paul laughed, picking up your clothes, and zipping them into the backpack. “My hair used to be longer than yours.”

You tried to imagine that, but your brain couldn’t come up with a steady image. “You should grow it out again.”

Paul smiled at you. “Maybe one day, darling. Let’s get you back to the living room, alright?”

You nodded and stood up, immediately stumbling again. Paul wrapped an arm around you, and you looked up at him. You took one of your hands and pulled his face towards yours, trapping his lips in a passionate kiss. You felt such an intense desire to have more of him, to have all of him right then and there. You tried to deepen the kiss, and his grip on your waist tightened. He let the bag fall to the floor, and pressed you back against the counter of the sink. Instinctively you hopped onto it, and wrapped your legs around his waist, before returning your lips to his. He groaned slightly, and to your displeasure, he pulled away.

“Y/N, you’re drunk. You should go lay down on the couch.” Paul spoke, backing out of your grasp.

You hummed in annoyance. “Or we could stay here. I mean, no one has to know.”

He shook his head, picking up the bag again and grabbing your hand. “Doesn’t matter, baby. You’re still drunk.”

You sighed, hopping off the counter and slipping, while muttering to yourself. “Jeez, no drunk hookups for us?”

Paul didn’t respond, he just returned his hand to your waist to steady you and pulled you into the living room. You returned to the love seat, and smiled to yourself, brushing your hands along the fuzzy blanket again.

“This is the best place in the world.” You mused, squeezing it between your fingers. “This house, all of you. I can’t imagine being somewhere better.”

Paul shot you a weird look. “You’re an affectionate drunk, huh?”

You laughed, letting your head loll to your right shoulder as you looked up at him through your eyelashes. “Depends on the situation. Usually I’m a horny drunk, but you shot that down in the bathroom.”

Jared and Quil burst out laughing, before Paul shot them a death glare. Emily moved to the kitchen and handed you a glass of water, and you took it with a shaking hand. You nearly spilled it on yourself as you felt your arm jerk unexpectedly.

“Y/N, what’s going on? Why are you shaking that badly?” Paul asked, kneeling down to be level with you.

You dismissed him with your freehand. “Happens when I smoke too much.”

He frowned. “When did you smoke?”

“Sometime before playing pong. It’ll go away soon, it happens all the time.” You answered, reaching out to play with his hair affectionately. “Your hair is so soft. You really should grow it out again. Maybe I can learn to braid then.”

Paul rolled his eyes, standing up and squeezing next to you on the loveseat. “You can’t braid hair?”

You shook your head, drinking half the glass of water before handing it to him for safe keeping. “You shouldn’t trust me with glass. I always break glasses when I drink. Mike nearly banned me from coming over after I shattered 2 of his mom’s in the same night.”

Emily took the glass out of Paul’s grasp, and returned instead with a plastic cup. The room was mostly silent, and you realized that you were something of a spectacle to them. It made you almost sad, knowing that none of them got the typical high school experience, or could even really get drunk since their bodies were so warm and they burned the alcohol off easily.

“I’m sorry,” you apologized, sweeping the room with your eyes before looking at Paul. “I should call someone to come get me. I’ve intruded on your evening.”

Paul frowned, placing an arm around your shoulders. “You haven’t intruded on anything, okay? I’d rather be the one to take care of you while your drunk, that way I know you’re safe.”

“Okay, thank you. For coming to get me. I appreciate it a lot. I got really overwhelmed being there tonight, which I’m going to assume had something to do with the shots Mike kept handing me while we were playing pong. I’m only really good at it when I’m drunk, you know. We’re the champions of our grade- nearly undefeated.” You babbled, reaching up to play with his hair again.

“You seem to go to a lot of parties.” Emily frowned, her voice worried, not judgmental.

“I mean, yeah. It’s senior year, you know? Everyone’s getting ready to adjust to the college party scene. Except me, of course.” You laughed, smiling widely. “I’m not going to college anymore.”

Paul sucked in a sharp breath. “Wait, what do you mean you’re not going to college anymore?”

You smiled at him, running a hand down his toned chest before returning it to your lap. “I mean, I’m going to go to Forks Community College, then I’ll probably transfer to SU to finish my degree.”

“But that’s not what you want. You wanted to go off to the East Coast. I know you got in to John Hopkins, so why aren’t you going?” He questioned, his face concerned.

You giggled a bit, rolling your eyes. “I can’t leave you, obviously. I hate not seeing you for a day. Do you think we’d survive being apart for 5 month stretches?”

“We’d figure it out. I don’t want you to give up on your dreams for me, ever. That’s not something you should have to compromise.” Paul argued, his face incredibly serious.

You shrugged, drinking more of your water before returning it to his hands. “Doesn’t matter, I made the decision already and declined Hopkins. I can study biology here just as well as I can out there.”

Paul sighed, cupping your face gently. “I wish you would’ve talked to me about it. I would’ve encouraged you to follow your dreams, go where you need to be.”

“I am. I mean, I went back and forth a lot before I made up my mind. Tonight just made it so clear, you know? The whole time I was at that stupid party, all I could think about was how much better it would’ve been if you were there. I don’t want to go off and get drunk in a frat house, I don’t want to go anywhere away from you.” You admitted, shrugging at him. “I never had a reason to stay in Forks, but now I do.”

Paul seemed like he wanted to say something more, but he just smiled at you and handed you the glass of water. You continued drinking it, falling somewhere lost in your thoughts. You stayed silent, mind focused on the boy next to you, and the trajectory of your life now.

“What’re you thinking about?” Paul asked, furrowing his eyebrows.

You finished your drink and handed the empty cup back to him. “Fate, I guess.”

“Fate?” He echoed.

You hummed, smiling. “Fate. It’s what brought us together, isn’t it?”

“Dunno, haven’t thought about it.”

“Well, I have. And I’ve decided it’s fate. For us to have met on the beach, you to have broken my nose. All of it had to happen exactly as it did for us to end up together.” You concluded, nodding as you spoke.

Paul smiled and ran his hands down your arms. “Fate it is, then.”

You smiled back, before your face fell in realization. “Oh, I should’ve talked to you before calling you my boyfriend.”

“It’s fine, really.”

“No! That’s a big step. We were just friends, but then I mean, we slept together Paul. That’s not something friends do.” You emphasized, your eyes widening.

“It is if you’ve got the right friends.” Quil suggested, which earned him an uncomfortable look from the rest of the room.

“Why don’t we talk about this in the morning, when you’re sober, okay?” Paul suggested softly. “And when we’re alone.”

You groaned, rubbing your itchy eyes dramatically. “It’s not like they won’t just hear about it later, anyway. What’s the point in having a private conversation if they can just read your mind?”

Paul sighed, frowning at you. “Doesn’t mean they have to witness everything first hand, you know.”

“It’s fine, it doesn’t matter. I just don’t want you to be mad at me for calling you my boyfriend. I didn’t think about it, I guess. It just felt right.” You continued, pursing your lips. “Once I said it to Jess, it was like I had said it a million times before.”

“Please don’t hold it against yourself, baby. I would’ve let you call me your boyfriend the day we met if you’d wanted to.” He confessed, his face a bit dazed. “You took me by surprise, but there’s nothing else I’d rather be.”

You smiled at him, licking your lips as you realized how dry your mouth was. Emily refilled your water, and you took large gulps before talking again. “What was the best day of your life?”

“What?”

You giggled a bit, sitting up straighter. “You said that the second best day of your life was when we slept together. So what was the first?”

Paul looked away from you, suddenly finding your hands interesting. “Dunno how you’re still so with it when you’re this far gone.”

“It’s a talent, really. I can’t walk for shit, but I can talk coherently, and run from the cops. Or danger, probably. But then again, I guess there is no danger when I’m here. You’d never let anyone hurt me.” You mused, pushing your hands against his chest and shaking him gently. “Stop avoiding my question.”

He sighed, looking at you with feigned annoyance. “The day I met you.”

You laughed, your whole body shaking and convulsing, tears falling out of your eyes. You couldn’t help yourself, though what you found funny about his answer, you weren’t quite sure.

Jared whistled lowly, quirking a smile across his tan face. “Even your partner things your answer is dumb.”

You spoke through giggles, wiping away the tears from your cheeks. “No, it’s sweet. The best answer I could’ve imagined. I just didn’t expect it, so it was funny.”

Paul chuckled at you, pulling you against his chest to kiss your head. “You’re a mess right now, babe.”

“And you get to deal with it for the rest of your life. Aren’t you a lucky man?”

“The luckiest man alive.”

~~~

Tag List:

@sorrow-and-bliss @fangirling-4-ever @emme-looou @swidkid @sunsetevergreen @yourwonkywriter @avis15 @shawrs @rottenstyx

Comment, message, reply to be added!

#twilight #paul lahote #leah clearwater #sam uley #embry call #jacob black #quil ateara #wolf pack #seth clearwater #paul lahote x you #twilight wolf pack #jared cameron #paul lahote x reader #paul lahote x y/n

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hdusa · 2 months

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Hello self care anon again. Do you have soup for the sickness? You poor soul. Get lots of rest dw bout streaming

hello self care anon do not fret!! I just had some soup as well as nutrivena or whatever and now I am going to sleep. Ideally when I wake up I will be all better and if not I’ll be sad because I had big plans for today but of course I won’t stream if I’m not feeling well! Do not worry!!! I just really want to ruin lives today!!!!

#hello it is me princezam #watching the dark knight right now #I love the joker I’m going to literally become him

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precious-little-scoundrel · 3 months

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I saw your answer about being burned out on Gigi but still being open to discussing the topic -

are there any little fun tidbits or ideas you had planned that you could drop in the answer box as a little treat?

Was there an eventual endgame for her?

Anything quirky or outrageous set to take place with her in her story?

Would Gigi ever change her ways and act grown up?

XOXOX you are my favorite writer on this whole entire app you must know

My darling, yes, yes, yes I am happy to talk of it! And I’m so happy you popped in. I cannot believe I’m your favorite, that’s just stunning to me, I’m really touched. 🫶🏼💋🫵🏻

Now into Gigi!

Shortly before the August tour she and Lisa Marie meet and as Lisa is in many ways more mature 🤣 they actually end up bonding very well, I imagined a case of Linda and Lisa with someone who’s even more playful -Gigi- and who genuinely would spend five hours playing Barbie’s because she wants to and has no fear on the golf carts.

On the August tour she’s a lifesaver for Elvis in so many ways, but things are also hard and she’s clingy and he’s on the pills to hell him keep going and it’s a side she hasn’t fully seen from him and rightfully considers to now be “the real him”

So she sticks it out but he also lashes out at he rom e about how clingy she is and it’s devastating to her. Positively devastating…all he really said was that she should be able to go to sleep on her own if he needed/wanted to keep socializing with the boys or whatever

When he goes to join her in the room that night he finds are shaking and crying and cold and practically going through a sub drop of sorts

Which gets cured with insistent assurance he’s a selfish old man who doesn’t even appreciate the miracle right under his nose and massive amounts of love and cuddles and him laying on top of her like a weighted blanket.

Swearing she’s always gonna be His Baby Girl

There’s no going back after that

Not that either Elvis or Gigi would want to

Something wonderful does happen on this tour and in many ways it’s due to Gigi yet again, Colonel Parker hasn’t being so well himself and now having to endure Elvis calling out his newest PR nightmare from the stage each night as his little Angel when she’s sitting there beaming, nineteen and big titted, is a worsening strain.

Sometime in later September the strain gets to be too much, apparently, when Colonel Parker is trying to enjoy the hotel’s amenities and soak in the hot tub with his cigar and a starry night sky but instead of being able to enjoy these he is assaulted with the caterwauling sounds of Gigi getting pleasurably railed on the balcony, one too many references to how big Elvis is and how much she loved how big he is and how big he is and…on and on and on

The Colonel was found at dawn bobbing up and down in the little bubbling caldron -a heart attack apparently

Big Sad

Such a big sad they have to cancel the rest of the tour and fly out to Hawaii to mourn and lift Elvis’ spirits

There Gigi feeds him pineapples and papaya juice and frolics in the surf in every smaller bikinis that are more calculated than Elvis assumes because her chief goal is actually to get him shirtless and frolic with her and he won’t unless it’s such a dire paparazzi emergency he must offer his own shirt to cover her bouncing assets

They make a baby on a plane ride, he just goes in during the turbulence and she’s so vigorous and delighted no pulling out occurs

So he marries her *duh*

Lisa is delighted by this and Lovey is born -cue, lots of Gigi never updating her wardrobe so everything is just flowy and unbuttoned and lots of nursing with a tit out much to the Memphis Mafia’s consternation about where to look without Elvis biting their heads off

Gigi loves engaging in a past time of seeing how far she can shoot her milk, it’s her favorite thing about motherhood, the little clothes are next and somwhere down the line is the actual baby

Don’t fret -Lovey has more than enough parental love coming from Elvis

With Parker gone and out of the way, wishes and whims honestly get to be met a lot easier and Gigi considers one of the most tragic things her Bug Daddy went though is the closing of Circle G ranch so you best believe she wheedles and begs for another and it’s a complete zoo by the end, not a ranche

They have another kid, soonish —a son named Baron. He’s the only one to inherit brain cells and will go on to be as devastatingly handsome and charming as his father and yet a full on Bayou living recluse when he’s not taking care of Graceland and his mother and kindly informing Miss Bealieu that if she wanted to use the name Presley, maybe she shoulda not divorced the original Presley she was related to?!👇🏼

but all that is after Elvis dies.

Because he does and yeah it’s genuinely sad and it happens sometime in the early 2000’s and his last words are to Baron and to “take care of my Gigi”

Gigi then proceeds to live and a very Yellow Wallpaper version of reality, never one for facing realities but gifted with a massive amount of emotional intelligence, she’s quite certain every breeze through the curtain and creak in the old house and song order on the radio is a message from Elvis to her. Yeah it’s a bit morbid but it’s also oddly convincing, “Daddy” doesn’t lose any presence just because he’s zipped out to the gas station longer than usual.

She’s preserved everything and that’s her chief hobby along with the zoo, even when Lovey is situated and taking over the magazines Elvis bought and produced. Gigi takes an interest for sure ->hell, she used to be their centerfold time and again so the least touch of her manicured hand on an editorial is still gold, no matter how time passes<- but first and foremost she’s still insistent she’s gotta be at Graceland, can’t leave Daddy alone there for long.

Which is a CRAZY and weird ass world for a certain Austin Butler to step into for research.

It’s impeccably preserved to the point of being past creepy, like it’s not creepy instead it’s just fully convincing, which probably should’ve been his first clue to run for his sanity sake, but when you love a thing you’ll quickly embrace a comforting illusion over a hurtful reality

And Austin loves Elvis, almost as much as Gigi does

Which becomes their joint reality

She’s eager to help him with the research, pours out the most insightful and tender perceptions of her Daddy, shows Austin his guitars and his books, his notes and his bibles, hours of hole footage -some of which Austin initially did not see the research value in due to their scandalous content but Gigi was insistent it was crucial material to get to know Elvis as his most unassuming, which she insisted was in bed

Probably shoulda been predictable -except for their age gap but life does imitate art- bonding over one all consuming love in their lives and watching X rated home movies and breathing life into each other’s lonely delusions really binds people together

Baron Presley is initially totally incensed and suspect this little twink Butler but eventually he softens, gets won over

Austin’s a good and kind influence on Gigi and between him and Baz they get her out more, Lisa’s good word regarding both helps this, too

Gigi gets convinced to go to Cannes with them all and Baron actually surfaces from his redneck palace in the bayous to confirm he’s not in fact dead for the first time in ten years,

He Takes Care of Business one last time at Cannes like his daddy would like, see Austin would dearly like to be Gigi’s and Gigi would like to be Austin’s -hell they already are- so Baron does them a little favor and draws out the little Nepo Arm Candy that Austin’s been toting about the these events and charms her real well and let’s just say, when Priscilla Bealieu saw Baron Presley come out of the coed bathroom in swaggering dishevelment with a little bowlegged twig behind him -she got some severe ptsd flashbacks to his father

After this it’s all happily ever after and Gigi is still showing up to Austin’s premiers and she’s proud as anything of him and he of her and together they’ve found whatever it is that binds souls together

Life imitates art

•also, for those who ask, if Gigi ever gets a lurid and beautiful biopic herself, looks like Emerald Fennel is the one for the job, uhem

Tagging my Gigi taglist as this is a headcanon list of sorts and y’all may enjoy seeing it 💋

@prompted-wordsmith

@parodsal000

@ab4eva

@stylespresleyhearted

@presleyenterprise

@kendralavon7

@coolgirl462

@colahola

@lillypink

@stephthestallion

@vintageshanny

@landmermaid12

@ashtag2887

@notstefaniepresley

@butlersluvbot

@steph-speaks

@eliseinmemphis

@lookingforrainbows

@dkayfixates

@ellie-24

@memphisflash1935-1977

@marriedtopresley

@powerofelvis

@thatbanditqueen

@elvisabutler

@butlersxbirdy

@heartbrake-hotel

@fav-fanficssss

@austinbutlersbaby

@freudianslumber

@kxnnxy

@kingdomforapony

@be-my-ally

@crazymadpassionatelove

@that-hotdog

@missmaywemeetagain

@fallinlovewithurlove

@richardslady121

@lilycherries123

@18lkpeters

@xenaspace3-blog

@lil-mamas-obsessions

@father-of-2cats

@helen06dreamer

@returntopresley

@gonnagoandfangirl

@kelssssxd

@octobers-snow

@velvetelvis

@blursedblegh

@azzypog

#yes I spent an hour typing this out in the answer box Bahaha #sorry for the misspells and any perceived Kaia or Priscilla hate -this is from Gigi’s perspective so of course it’s wonky and unflattering #elvis fanfiction #elvis presley #Gigi blurb #but then Gigi #elvis #elvispresley #Austin butler #elvis the king #elvis imagine #elvis one shot #Elvis smut #70s elvis #big daddy #big daddy elvis

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