#and fretful I won’t sleep well again

[whentherewerebicycles]

the moon looked bigger in real life

[sunniskyies]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐬 || 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐏𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 || 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟐

𝐑𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭: - 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Domestic fluff as you both settle back into life together <3 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Ford Pines x fem!reader 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: - 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬: Literally just fluff, a bit of being a guardian figure to the kids 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2.2k 𝐀/𝐍: You guys are SO SWEET about the last one, so here's more fluff for you beautiful old man addicts <3

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟏 > 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟐 > 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟑 > 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟒

The kids are in bed— well, mostly. You can hear the chirp of excited conversation through the ceiling. It was late, Stan and Ford’s explanation taking a long, long time. It didn’t help that the retelling got as thick and awkward as wet cement when it came to talk of Ford’s portal, and the events leading up to his departure.

Exhaustion tugs at every battered bone in your body, but you’re so content you might as well be purring like a kitten in front of a roaring fire.

You're curled up bridal-style across Ford’s lap, his arms enveloping you; warm, cradling, completing. He’s donned an old red knit jumper he fished out of his old chest of drawers. It smells like it belongs in a museum, sort of dusty and woodsy. Your face is pressed to his chest, and you feel much younger than your age. It feels like your first day in this house, the two of you huddled on a sagging mattress giggling and talking of futures and other such nonsense; youthful, hopeful, infatuated.

Now the two of you are more than thirty years on, enfolded together like the pages of a book left on an old yellow reading chair. You don’t speak, saving that long conversation for a lick of sunlight and mugs of coffee cupped in hand. No, right now you just sit in silence, Ford’s large hands stroking dust from your hair, a thumb gently soothing the bruise forming on your temple where you struck the wall.

Still unaware of the time except for the inky night hanging in the air, you feel Ford shift. His arms move, body ready to stand up with you. He stops when he notices two large pupils staring up at him curiously.

“You’re still awake, dear,” he smiles, voice quiet. “Let me take you to bed, I must lock up downstairs, make sure nothing vile is seeping through that blasted portal.”

“Ford, no, let’s go to sleep. You can do that in the morning,” you say, trying to ward off the edge of desperation edging into your tone. You can’t help but remember the miserable months of nights in a cold bed while your lover hid away in the basement, sleeping on his desk rather than with you. It has to be different— he’s better now.

Ford doesn’t share your fretting. “No, it’s not stable. Reopening the portal… it’s not safe to leave these things.” He continues to stand up, your body delicately draped over his arms. He seems to notice your expression. “I’ll join you soon, love.”

You doubt that. He’ll probably be there ‘till morning, his simple task snowballing as his keen eyes notice the slightest things amiss. “No, that won’t happen. No, no, I’ll join you. I’m rather accustomed to the portal myself after all this time with it.” You dismiss, stretching a leg to try and stand on the floor.

Ford bundles you up closer, “Absolutely not! You need rest, I swear I will join you.” He begins carrying you to the hall. Your fingers clutch the red fabric of his sweater. 

“Please don’t leave me,” you murmur plaintively, the corners of your mouth downturned. You miss the way Ford’s heart stutters, your eyes all hopelessly syrupy and mournful through your lashes.

He hesitates.

“Please? You can stay down there any other night I promise, just stay this time.”

His jaw tightens. “I don’t want that. Not again,” he says firmly. “Okay… I’ll… I’ll come with you.”

You immediately relax again, at ease in the rhythm of Ford’s steps as he carries you to your room. A stupid grin hijacks your face as he ever-so-gently places you under the sheets (he remembered what side of the bed). You watch from your nest of sheets as he gets ready for bed in the soft lamplight, lifting up the duvet for him to slide in next to you.

His arm around you, frothy sheets up to your neck— you think you might die here and now for how perfect everything feels. You feel his nose bump the top of your head as he presses a kiss to your hair.

“If you’d have told me this morning that… that today would be the day I would’ve never believed…” you say, heavy eyelids closing as you're interrupted by a yawn. You feel his chuckle reverberate where you lean into his chest. 

“Go to sleep, sweetness.” He murmurs, tone laced with a smile. There are his hands again, rubbing soft circles on your arm, your hair. He might as well be rubbing in anaesthesia, his touch lulling you to sleep. Darn you Pines.

Before sleep pulls you under, “I’m so glad your back, Stanford,” slips quietly from your lips. Ford’s heart skips again. Arms tighten around you as if you’re a precious photo about to float away on the wind; skin softly creased from a lifetime of loving, hair matte and grey like faded ink from thirty years of waiting.

“I’m more grateful than you could ever know, my dear,”

A stretch trembles through your warm limbs, the aches from last night dulled by a deep slumber and the warm morning sunlight soaking through the window. A thrill passes through you, your arm sliding through the sheets to Stanford’s side and—

A cry pours from you as your hand meets cold, empty space. Your body is jolted upright, perspiration glistening on your forehead. Your heart is hammering, lungs gulping in buckets of air. Where is he? Where is Ford? Did he come through the portal? Did it really happen? You don’t register the wail emanating from you, nor do you register the pound of heavy boots down the hallway.

“____ are you okay?!” Ford exclaims, almost slamming into the door as he hurries in. His hand is tense, hovering above the gun strapped to his belt.

The sight of him— the feeling you get is so overpowering it’s nauseating. Your paralysed limbs untense, body slumping in relief.

“Goddammit Stanford Pines, you just gave me the fright of a lifetime,” you bemoan, uninvited tears swimming beneath the sieve of your hands. You don’t see as his face goes from confused to slack with realisation.

“Oh,” He groans. “Oh sweetness I’m so sorry.” Feeling horrible, he leans on the bed to pull you into him, rubbing your back. “I should’ve waited for you to wake up, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay, it’s okay. I’m sorry, I probably scared you half to death.” You mumble, slightly embarrassed. As much as you are connected to Ford, thirty years has changed both of you, and you find yourself —embarrassingly— feeling like you need to impress him, like a teenager with a crush. God forbid he thinks ill of you!

You relish his rumble of a laugh. “I thought a monster slipped by me or something! I’m grateful you're okay.”

“Yeah, well, I think you might’ve just taken a year off my life, Ford.” You roll your eyes lovingly, a few of the last of those silly tears escaping.

After getting up and pulling on some summer-friendly clothes, you slip down to the kitchen to find the morning well underway. The sun is beating through the windows, and Dipper is sat cross legged on the floor reading a book. He’s reading with the cover down, but his furtiveness is wasted on you; you know he's reading A Good Girl's Guide to Murder. ‘Mature murder mystery books’ indeed, Dipper!

At the kitchen bench, Mabel is haphazardly balanced on a stack of books, multiple propped open at once. From the batter congealing the pages together and the fact that most of the books are iced, you know they are cookery books. And a cookbook in Mabel’s hands is either as dangerous as a matchbook to a forest, or as useless as shoes to a fish.

By the looks of it, it is the latter. Although, is there a faint… burning?

“Great Aunt ___!” Mabel squeals, revealing sprinkle-harbouring braces. “I'm baking, look I’m baking! See, I had this great idea to try and substitute the liquids in my Mabel Cakes with Mabel Juice because Grunkle Ford has never had either —can you believe that? Me neither, so I thought I could kill two birds with one stone and make them together… but I didn’t realise the plastic dinosaurs in the juice would melt in the waffle iron!—” You try to cut off the young girl’s 100-mile-an-hour babble, but that girl is unstoppable.

You wince as she holds up two fists of semi-cooked, eye-wateringly bright gobdules of cakey dough. You, pained, notice the half-melted dinosaurs, faces in liquified agony as strings of molten plastic drip from their bodies. Matchbook in forest, matchbook in forest!

“—So now it’s a bit of a Jurassic Park, another reason why I think Grunkle Ford will love it, even if it’s a bit of a.... disaster. But if you think about it it’s more like a Magical Mabel Disaster! And oh, I added extra sprinkles because you can never have too many sprinkles! Do you think the hardened dinosaurs will make up for the uncooked dough? Or should I cook it more? Doesn’t matter, it’ll taste great!”

You give her a wobbly smile, mostly because you fear what might happen if you open your mouth.

“I tried to stop her,” Dipper mutters from between his pages, voice smug and matter-of-fact.

“Oh don’t act like you're so grown-up, you’re reading a little girl's book,” she retorts in a sing-song. Dipper slams his book closed, the tips of his ears matching the cover.

“I think you’ll find it’s very sophisticated and easy to digest—”

You let the twin’s bickering fade into the background as you begin to tidy up the carnage Mabel’s baking attempt has left. Usually, she gets distracted by things quite quickly, leaving Mabel-messes scattered around for anyone to find. You don’t mind it though, all too glad to slide the Mabel Cake into the bin. You shiver. Those plastic faces… they haunt.

Ford was back down in the basement, the sounds of clanging and buzzing drifting up through the weary floorboards. You want to go down there, but that silly part of you doesn’t want to disturb him again today. No— that’s ridiculous! Ford loves your company, you don’t get in his way —it’s not like it was when Bill was around.

Five minutes later, you're standing in the small room in the basement holding a cup of coffee and a salvaged Mabel Cake. You see Ford through the glass, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, tools being used and replaced back onto his belt. He’s hauling colossal slabs of metal from the sides of the portal, the machine slowly being stripped down to bone. Like a massive carcass, it creaks and groans as Ford’s tools slice away at its flesh, and you hope he’s staying well out the way each time pieces of it fall to the floor like toppling trees.

After a few moments, Ford seems to notice you through his welding mask, though you can’t see his face through the tinted visor. He perks up though, dropping a massive saw to the ground and hurrying over.

“Hello, my dear! Is it too noisy?” He says as he slips through the door, pulling off his helmet and drawing you in for a sheepish kiss.

“No, just bringing you some of Mabel’s baking efforts— you don’t have to eat it, but she was awfully excited.” Ford surveys the cake with a smile, and you resist the urge to wipe the smear of soot from his cheek. 

“Thank you. For the sustenance, and for, uh, for checking in,” he says sincerely. Is that a flush you see? Your suspicions are confirmed when you set the coffee aside and bring him in for a deeper kiss, blouse-clad arms sliding around his neck, and you feel his pulse thrum beneath his skin.

The relief you feel! You’re not the only one navigating these unknown emotions, that the man who’s mapped the multiverse is also feeling the giddy nerves you are. Your skin prickles where his degloved hands bear your skin.

It feels strange to be held romantically after so long of loneliness. It’s not that you haven’t found love with the kids and Stan, but you could never bring yourself to even look at another in the way you used to look at Ford. Even if you never finished the portal, you would’ve spent the rest of your life alone, satisfied at least in the knowledge of how it felt to be loved, once. It excites you childishly knowing just by his kiss that Ford felt the same, the way he cradles you in his gaze and with his hands as if he’s trying to reabsorb every inch.

When you break away, his eyes open after yours, and he seems to be at a loss for what to say.

“Do you, um, want to go for a walk this evening? You haven’t left the shack yet, and we haven’t truly caught up…” you offer shyly.

“Yes! That would be… splendid! Spectacular. This evening. Perfect.” He blurts. The calm of last evening has clearly floated away in the daylight for both of you.

“Perfect.” You repeat.

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @sleeplessdreamer14, @2hiigh2cry, @taffycandyqt, @papi-machucha, @muffin1304

© sunniskyies 2024, do not repost or translate my work

[faebaex]

TWST Characters - Big Spoon or Little Spoon?

author note: don't ask me what provoked this, i'm writing these silly little headcanons so that i can get it out of my head so i can write the things i'm supposed to be writing! forgive me for my slowness (｡T ω T｡)

characters: Heartslabyul, Savanaclaw & Octavinelle

Heartslabyul

Riddle Rosehearts

Little spoon who thinks he is a big spoon

He will try being both the big spoon and the little spoon respectively

But in his ACADEMIC opinion, he will declare that he is the big spoon

But despite how he insists that he is the big spoon, most nights he ends up falling asleep in your arms

If he wakes up in the middle of the night he’ll groggily try to rearrange but it doesn’t always work

Don’t tease him about it, sometimes he just needs the comfort of being held

Little spoon in denial basically

Ace Trappola

Silly straw who thinks he is a big spoon

No fr this guy will posture and insist that he is 100% big spoon material

But then as SOON as he falls asleep, he’s snoring and throwing his arms around and wiggling around, tossing and turning

Man will NOT keep still

The amount of times you’ve kicked him out of bed bc he keeps waking you up with his flailing

Rarely you’ll get a night where you comfortably sleep with him as the big spoon but don’t get used to it

Deuce Spade

Respectable big spoon

Probably one of the most comfortable people to sleep with

Will cuddle you well enough that you feel soothed but not tight enough that you can’t slip out if you want/need to

Always makes sure you’re comfortable, probably to the extent that you have to tell him to stop fretting

Good boy, 10/10

Cater Diamond

Undeniable little spoon

There is no doubt, just hold him pls

His favourite position is with his back to you bc he prefers it if you can’t see his face

Can’t have you seeing him vulnerable instead of his usual silly, goofy persona

Sometimes tho he’ll lay his head against your chest and you’ll have a little moment together

But don’t mention it otherwise he won’t do it again

Trey Clover

Big spoon

As if there was ever any doubt

He actually really likes spooning, he likes the intimacy

He likes the feel of your heartbeat and being able to stroke a hand through your hair or watch you as you sleep

Plus it is easy for him to slip into bed next to you if he’s stayed up late to finish baking

Savanaclaw

Leona Kingscholar

Big spoon but only because he treats you like a living pillow

I mean let’s be real all this man does is sleep

So there is no way that you will be anything but the little spoon here

He’ll think its funny if you try to be the big spoon and then just push you underneath him and resume business as usual

Spooning with Leona is either incredibly comfortable or the most uncomfortable sleep you’ve ever had – there is no in-between

He pretends not to care if you voice any discomfort but genuinely will try to be more attentive in future

Jack Howl

Big spoon

But he goes to bed sooo early so you don’t always get to cuddle

Sometimes when you sneak into bed he’ll roll over and engulf you in his arms

As if he sensed you in his sleep

But other times Jack sleeps like a rock

So its kind of hit and miss

But when you do get to spoon, it feels like you are encompassed in a huge, never-ending hug

It may even be tempting enough for you to become a morning person, if you’re not already

Ruggie Bucchi

Little spoon 100%

My man just likes to cuddle up after a long day of making thaumarks and running around taking care of Leona

So there is nothing he loves more than snuggling into your chest or side and passing out

Plus being the little spoon makes it a tiny bit easier to slip out in the morning when he has to do one of his early morning jobs or get Leona's breakfast ready

Plus plus having you there makes his bed feel just that little bit more comforting :)

Octavinelle

Azul Ashengrotto

Little spoon who thinks he is a big spoon #2

You’ll fall asleep with him being the big spoon but you always ALWAYS wake up with him somehow in the little spoon position with his arms and legs wrapped around you

Will insist this is a misunderstanding and that he slipped bc he’s still not used to beds yet

He actually loves nothing more than burying his face into your chest and feeling nice and safe

Nevertheless he will go to the grave insisting that he is the big spoon

The biggest little spoon in denial, no one compares

Jade Leech

Big spoon

The only time he is a little spoon is when he gets too excited about mushrooms or something and needs to calm down while you stroke his hair

Otherwise he is a big spoon through and through

Thing is though, his grip is TOO strong

Once you make the decision to spoon with him, there is no escape

His arms will be wrapped so tightly around your waist that you can’t even more an inch away from him

He has absolutely no remorse about it either the next morning, he’ll just give you his little closed eye smile and be all ‘whoops’ but hold you just as tight the next time

Floyd Leech

Hear me out, hear me out

100% a little spoon

He gives off big spoon energy but actually prefers to wrap himself around you and have you hold him and play with his hair and give him back scratches

Be careful if he’s in a silly goofy mood though because he’ll start nipping at you

Thinks its hilarious when you’re relaxing and you suddenly yelp bc he’s nipped at your side

But usually he behaves himself bc sometimes he’s a little touch starved so he really likes it when you hold him

[bettysupremacy]

Omg imagine james doing something stupid (not much imagination needed there) and r is telling him of (lovingly) and he’s just like “yes ma’am🫡” and the others are like side eyeing him I just NEED james to call me ma’am in an argument

i hope you are having a great december so far my love

(not much imagination needed there) LOL

i could kiss you this idea is so cute thank you lovely

“Oh, my boy.” You croon to the mess tumbling into your lap. Softly, you brush some hair from his fluttering eyes. “What‘ve the evil twins done to you.”

“Evil twins!” Sirius gasps.

Remus laughs. “That’s a new one.”

You don’t look up from the sickly boy careening for your touch. “What did they feed you?”

He moans into you, muttering something you can’t pick up. He’s gone all right, ten shades of flushed and warm to the touch. It’s already a warm night, but this is no warmth that came naturally.

“We didn’t do anything.” Remus denies impishly.

“Puking pastilles again?” You eye them. “Do you know how long we sat by the toilet?”

“That was not our fault.”

“And neither were the nosebleed nougats?” You sigh. “Seriously thought his brain was coming out his nose.”

Sirius nods in agreement nose scrunching. “Not his finest moment.”

“Because of you.”

“Don’t start with me, woman.” His finger points between your eyes.

James is malleable under you, nose pressing into your thigh coyly. You see the corner of a smile as you fuss, guilty pleasure at your roaming touch. The room is hot, warm bodies passing and going as they please through the small flat. You fear he may run a fever, though that’s uncommon. James immune system is a rock, solid at anything thrown to it.

You press your hand to his forehead. “Has he had to much?”

The boys eye each other suspiciously. “Too much?”

You scoff. “To drink?”

“Depends.” Sirius shrugs

“On what!”

Their dubious behavior alarms you. These boys are up to something, or rather, were up to something, and now they’re avoiding dealing with the consequence of you.

“The substance.”

“Substance?” You sit up straight, shuffling the boy under you. He grumbles in protest.

“Potion.” Remus gives.

You frown apprehensively. “You didn’t.”

“We didn’t,” Sirius starts.

“he did.” Remus finishes.

Felix Felicis. They’d been talking about it a couple weeks ago, getting their hands on some. You protested, begged them, to forget it. It’s too dangerous, your voice of reason lowered their spirits, James you’ll be sleeping on the couch if you risk yourself like that.

“No,” You whine, fretting over the intoxicated fool. “how much?”

“Ask loverboy.”

“The whole,” James takes a deep breath mid sentence. “bottle.”

“Oh my god,” your eyes wide at the older boys standing. “he’ll be puking all night.”

“Maybe not..”

Your face drops into your hands exhausted. “Puking Pastilles all over again.”

“M’sorry.” James moans under you. “M’so sorry, lovely.”

“That was so stupid.” You scold lightly, hand coming down to flatten over his collar bones. “So, so, so, stupid!”

You're ruffled, shaken at the thought of him downing such an expensive, easily tainted, potion.

“Do you listen to everything they tell you to do?”

“No,” he starts slowly.

“Seems like it.” You bristle, pulling him up to sit. You look into his eyes seriously and he shuffles, nervous under your gaze. “Get a mind of your own.”

His fingers twitch at the hem of the dress you’d picked out tonight, squeezing it in his grip, grounding himself in reality. “Yes ma’am.”

Sirius scoffs behind you, shaking his head at Remus who looks equally perturbed at James’ extra affection. Under them, you wrap your arms around his neck surely. Besides the soft sent of sickly sweet potion, he smells of pine and cologne. You let yourself recognize his body is continuing to function as it should. Untouched, mostly, by the yellow inebriant.

“I can’t stand you, do you feel well?”

“I’m feeling better.”

You stick your face in his shoulder. “Be serious.”

“No, I don’t feel well.”

You sigh into him, pressing a kiss into his freckled skin. He won’t sleep on the couch tonight, though you aught to teach him a lesson.

“We’re going home.”

“What?” James frowns. “We only just got here.”

“D’you have another pool to jump in?”

He cringes at the memory of his fireball spree. “Kay, coming.”

You collect your coat and purse as you stand, leaving James to fend for himself behind you. “Felix Felicis isn’t a joke, one wrong tincture of thyme and you’re in St Mungo’s- James, were are your shoes?”

[gay-dorito-dust]

What about if Stanford got sick/hurt? How do you think he’d deal with that?

Ford is stubborn as they come when it comes to injury or illness.

He doesn’t want anyone to fret over him and will try to deal with it himself first and foremost almost all of the time regardless of how he’d promise to start letting others help him, old habits die hard unfortunately and Ford was no exception to this.

He didn’t want to raise suspicions in anyone and would act like nothing was actually wrong, when it was clear as day that there was indeed something wrong. Ford just didn’t like being a burden to you, nor his family.

You’d have to force that man to sit down and force him to let you take care of him with no room to complain when you had to catch him in your arms in due to the fact that he fainted while mid sentence. It scared you to death that something bad had happened, so for when to find that he had been hiding a cold or a injury, you were more or less upset with the fact that he didn’t say anything sooner and tried to do everything by himself yet again.

So when he came to, only to find himself laying on a bed, his bed, with you hovering over him with your arms crossed, unimpressed. ‘Darling what are you-‘

‘You fainted, right in my arms when you were telling me what goblins and gnomes hate each other,’ ford winced but you continued, ‘I thought we agreed to stop hiding things Stanford Pines.’ You finished as you called him by his full name to convey your upset over this.

‘My dear I-‘

‘Don’t use the excuse that you could handle it because you obviously couldn’t or else you wouldn’t have fainted in my arms.’ You cut him off as you reached out to hold his hand. ‘You scared me Ford, you really scared me back there.’ You admitted in a whisper as you tightened your grip on his hand.

‘I’m sorry my dear, I didn’t mean to scare you like that, I just didn’t want to bother you with my own things solely on the basis that we are partners and must share each others grievances.’ Ford said as he squeezed your hand in reassurance.

You smiled softly at him, knowing that you could never truly stay mad at Ford for long periods of time and kissed his forehead. ‘Well I want you to start sharing your grievances with me from now on,’ you tell him, ‘I want to help you sweetheart and I can’t do so if you keep yourself cooped up in the lab or close yourself off emotionally from the rest of us who are only trying to help.’ You finish as you go to leave Ford’s room.

‘Stay here while I go get your soup, if i see that you have taken a sock clad toe out of that bed, I’m revoking privileges.’ You warned him.

‘What privileges are you revoking my dear?’ Ford asked sheepishly.

‘Cuddling and late night campaigns of dungeons, dungeons and more dungeons.’ You told him simply as he visibly deflated as you went into the the kitchen to get his soup when you were joined by Stanley.

‘He fainted again didn’t he?’ Stanley asked.

‘Yep.’ You replied shortly.

‘What was it this time? Common cold, injured?’ Stan inquired as he helped you get a bowl for the soup intended for his stubborn brother.

‘Sleep deprivation caught up to him with a slight injury to his side, from what I don’t know.’ You told him as you thanked him for the bowl before ladling the soup into it. ‘Other than that I’m not surprised that he’s hidden it from us.’

‘Old habits die hard with my brother, there are going to be times where he won’t tell you anything in hopes of dealing with it himself, it’s all part of the lone complex he devolved while isolating himself from the rest of Gravity falls.’ Stanley said and you found yourself listening intently to it all.

‘He thinks he can do it all by himself but the moment he gets proven wrong, it makes him want to try and do it by himself even more to the point where he exhausts himself into gaining and or hurting himself further.’ Stanley continues as he leaves his back against the kitchen counter, sipping on a can of Pitt cola that seemingly magicked itself into his hand.

‘Has he always been like that?’ You asked.

Stanley chuckled. ‘Fuck no, when we were kids Ford would always come to me with whatever his big brain didn’t understand, but now after everything I’m not surprised to see that he’s become more recluse and hesitant to open up.’ Stanley saw your defeated expression and put a hand on your shoulder.

‘Don’t give up on him just yet, my smart ass brother still needs you to bring him back down to reality now and then.’ Was all he said before leaving the kitchen as you brought the soup back to Ford’s room, just to see that he had fallen asleep, not a sock clad toe out of bed too. You smiled softly as you place the soup at his bedside table and taking off his glasses before you began to ran your fingers through his hair.

‘My stubborn old fool, I love you so.’ You mused as you dedicated yourself to watching over Ford for the time being, just until he was feeling better again.

Which you did for the next couple of days, scolding him for trying to go monster hunting whilst on a cold when you spotted him trying to make a run for it out the window, not until he saw you stood there looking at him like a unimpressed parent.

Needless to say Ford went back into the really quick after that attempt.

Ford was restless and he was stubborn but you always made the best out of a shit situation by having you both cuddle in bed and have your one mini campaign of dungeons, dungeons and more dungeons to pass the time.

[ellieluvr420]

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

[ofallthingsnasty]

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

[yourheart-inmyhands]

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.

[cerise-on-top]

Hiya! And could you please write könig and price with a sick reader :)))

Hey! Sure!

Price and König with a Sick!Reader

Price: While I don’t think he’d outright fret over you, he would be worried. On the one hand, he wants to spend as much time with you as possible, making sure that you’re well and that you’ve got everything you need, but on the other hand he’s certain you’re still strong and independent, which is why he’s willing to leave you alone as well. He doesn’t mind getting sick himself, though. Price got a pretty good immune system, so he can handle himself. Since he’s not that bad of a cook either, he’ll make you a little something. For the most part it’s going to be soup, but it’s some pretty good soup. I don’t think he’ll let you eat it in bed, though, so he’ll call you once it’s done. It’s a quick and nutritious meal that’ll warm you right up. Will call your doctor if you can’t or don’t want to and make an appointment for you. I do think that he’ll do whatever you tell him to do when you’re sick. Yes, he’ll do all the chores without you asking. Yes. he’ll cuddle you too if you want him to. Again, he’s not afraid of getting sick. Will put on your favorite movie and cuddle you to sleep. Though, you might not always want to be near him since he will not stop smoking, and the smell clinging to him might trigger a coughing fit. I think once he realizes that he’ll leave you alone. But other than that he’ll check in on you fairly often and ask you if you need anything and provide such for you.

König: He’s not afraid of getting sick himself per se, but if he doesn’t need to get sick then he prefers if he wouldn’t. While he would check in with you fairly often, at least once every hour, even if you’re sleeping, I don’t think he’d cuddle you. König likely would try to keep his distance from you. He probably catches diseases more quickly than Price. Like Price, he’ll also make you some soup. His soup, however, is really good. I’ve said it before, but Austrians can make some pretty good soup and he’s no exception to that either. Although he’d prefer to not be in the presence of sick people, he will accompany you to the doctor and wait with you. The last thing he’d want is for you to collapse. He’s a little more fussy than Price when it comes to you. You’re leaving your bed? How dare you. Unless you need to use the bathroom you’re staying in bed. König has an entire cabinet full of meds. Some are stronger and more potent than others, so he likely has whatever it is you may need to feel better. Although he would provide whatever it is you may need, I don’t think he’d step into your room since it’s full of germs. And yes, he will disinfect the doorknobs as well. While he may care deeply about you, he really doesn’t want to get sick. Once you’re in full health again, you can cuddle the stinking night away, but unless he’s checking your temperature he likely won’t touch you. Once you feel better he’ll take you out for walks, though. He believes in the healing properties of fresh air. Plus he will try to make up for the time he couldn’t properly spend with you as well.

[lightlycareless]

imagine naoya leaving for work then comes naomi chasing after him with tears in her eyes because she knows she won’t see him for days.😭

HELLO!!!!

WELP MORE DOMESTIC STUFF ON THE WAY!!!! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA I love baby Naomi 😭 I wish it could be us Naoya and our baby happy together forever.

This has the same energy as when you and Naoya cry when realizing Naomi has to go to school or is at school and not home anymore 🤣 but omg this is such a dramatic moment in her life, the moment she realizes her papa isn't actually there most of the time, kept oblivious thanks to your consistent work of distracting her 😭 how dare we fool her?!

Anyways, here are the warnings: fluff. you have a daughter with naoya named naomi. she is smol... we need to protect her 🥺💖

Happy reading!

How you managed to keep the truth from Naomi for so long is something that has to be commended! Though your daughter’s innocence helped you a lot.

Naturally you felt bad for taking advantage of her naïveté, but it was genuinely the only way to prevent her from crying—alongside the video calls Naoya would always try to make back home: one in the morning during breakfast, another at lunch, and the last one before heading to bed.

Though it seemed that these calls were mostly made with Naoya’s benefit in mind, for the sight of Naomi's face lightening up upon hearing her dear papa's voice is one that always melted all his worries away, as well as anxious to return home.

So that, alongside your constant distraction of Naomi by bringing her with you to wherever you went, whether it being going from one side of the estate to the other to oversee your duties, or going out shopping with your staff, nobody could say your daughter was unattended—and subsequently, ignorant of her father’s absence.

Because of said things, the two thought of themselves to be very lucky to have such a well-behaved child, the envy of some in more ways than one!

Until she grew old enough to realize what was going on.

It was only inevitable, encouraged that she’d become conscious of her surroundings, which you began to notice when she started giving slightly more complex storylines to her dolls when playing with them… as silly as that might sound.

And while it was endearing to see her grow, it was also highly worrying, for you fretted about the kind of reaction she’d have when she finally acknowledges the reason why her father wasn’t around—an unprecedented event that occurred as followed.

As customary, you always made sure to either ask your staff to distract Naomi whenever you were off to bid your farewells to Naoya, or if his departure is happening at night, place her in bed, rocked to sleep by her papa before carefully sneaking out of the bedroom and meeting by the entrance.

Tonight, was to be the latter, with Naoya placing one last kiss on Naomi’s forehead as she snored softly, a sight that squeezed his heart, silently cursing his responsibilities and his supposed duty to the clan, collecting himself afterwards and heading over to your direction to get another spoonful of that same regret—why did he have to leave?

“When will you come back?” you murmur, wrapping your arms around his chest and holding him tightly against you, not wanting to let go.

“In a few weeks.” Naoya sighs, kissing the top of your head and resting his head above yours. “I hope Naomi doesn’t grow too much when I’m away.”

The slightest hesitation in your response is enough for Naoya to pursue the matter, placing his fingers underneath your chin and raising your gaze to his.

“What is it?”

“Oh, well—Naomi doesn’t fit in her onesies again; the ones I got her last month!” you respond. “…I fear that when you come back, she might not be as small as you remember.”

Naoya frowns.

There is one thing he hated from coming back home and that was realizing he’s missed out in his daughter’s growth—and for something as stupid as doing these lousy missions HQ couldn’t bother to assign to literally anyone else.

Though, in some ways, it was his fault. For he wanted to reassure his position as the future leader of the clan, prove that he was worthy, and apparently the only way to do so was to drown himself with work.

«It won’t be much longer» Is what he’d tell himself from time to time. «Everything I do is for my family’s wellbeing. To give them a life where they can be safe and happy.»

A life where the only things either would have to worry about is what stuffed animals to buy for Naomi, or where should they go for holiday next time he’s off work…

Or what to do with a curious baby girl that woke up earlier than anticipated, upset that her parents weren’t by her side, leading her to exit her bedroom and head towards the direction she hears them to be, all in the innocent quest for answers— coincidentally, her parent’s torment.

“Pa—pa! Mama!” Naomi coos upon seeing her parents, a wide smile on her chubby little face as she rushed to them, a sight that would’ve normally inspired the two to run to her in return and scoop her into their arms. But for now, only made you wonder how she managed to escape Mariya’s attention?! Wasn’t she supposed to keep an eye on her?!

“Pumpkin, you’re supposed to be asleep!” Naoya says, perhaps thinking Naomi would stop on her tracks and head back—or who knows?

But she ignores his words, diligently continuing her way to them until she was able to cling onto Naoya’s leg, lightly tugging at the fabric of his pants as if asking him to pick her up and pepper her with all the kisses he gives her whenever doing so.

And while Naomi doesn’t retaliate when you’re the one that gives her those gestures, it’s only when you slowly begin to separate her from her papa that the issues begin.

Naomi first attempts to break away from your embrace by pushing away, looking over to Naoya then back to you with a whine and pout that lets you know this isn’t what she wanted, nor is she open to negotiate.

“You’re supposed to be sleeping, mochi.” You say, hoping she’ll understand and stop moving. But she doesn’t, if anything she insists even more! “Naomi, you have to—"

“No!” she cries, shaking her head. “Want papa!”

Her disappointment doesn’t come until she sees Naoya’s lack of initiative, the unusually quiet, distant response to her calls that made her eyes tear up a bit.

But her heartbreak only occurs when you eventually resort to the thing the two probably should’ve done way before, and that is, telling her the truth.

“No, baby, you can’t have papa because, well, he has to leave.”

Naomi frowns, the last sliver of hope unwilling to give up just yet, as if skeptical of your words, believing you to be hiding the truth…

Until Naoya confirms it as well.

“I won’t be gone for long— I just gotta do some missions, I’ll be back before you even—”

“No!” Naomi shakes her head. “Papa no go!”

“I have to. It’s my job; you know I’m a sorcerer and—”

“No! You don’t—you don’t—leave…!”

And so, she weeps, pouring her small heart out with the most heart wrenching cries either have ever heard in their life—because they weren’t ones of hunger or displeasure. They were ones of sadness, upset that one of the most important people in her life is leaving, to return God knows when.

“Naomi…” you murmur, attempting to comfort her by resting her head against your shoulder, to no avail. It was clear what she wanted, who she wanted, so Naoya decides to take her from your arms and soothe her himself, which in reality only made her cry even more, as if realizing this is the last time he was going to hug her—for now.

“I won’t be gone for long, princess.” Naoya attempts to comfort her, pinching her cheek in the usual teasing way that always had her giggling—but she was too distraught to do anything else but cry.

She couldn’t be blamed, for Naomi was only a child that just began to understand that sometimes, her parents weren’t always going to be there by her side. There would be moments where they’d have to temporarily part ways to do other things, but that didn’t mean they didn’t love her. Or that she wouldn’t be ok.

Maybe this was the result of your over-endearing ways. Perhaps the two were simply too much for her, and this led her to have issues at the mere thought of either’s departure. You were always there for her, anyways, so why did it have to be different now?

“Princess, there’s nothing to cry about, you know I’ll always be here with you…”

“Pa…paaa—!” she gaps, tightly holding onto his shirt with an unprecedented strength that only serves to reflect how heartbroken she was by his words. “No go!”

And she’d continue to cry well into the following days. Soon after waking up, having tired herself out by her tears, when remembering her papa wasn’t there anymore, and wouldn’t be, not even if she searched all around the estate.

The once hilarious video calls, for Naomi thought her father had shrunk, were now nothing but a sad endeavor, accompanied by her sobs and quiet pleads of his quick return.

“I love you, little mochi. I only left because I needed to.” Naoya would always remind her. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

“Mnnno!” She shakes her head. “Come back!”

“If you promise to behave, I’ll take you to that park you like so much.” Her papa offers. “We’ll get all the sweets you want, and we’ll also go visit your grandpa. You like it when we go visit him, right? With auntie Hinata and uncle Ren.”

But Naomi doesn’t stop, showing him again and again that she doesn’t want any of those things—she just wants her father back and that’s it!

…

It would be the first thing Naoya wouldn’t be able to fulfill for his daughter, the same one that provided him with the much-needed reminder that being a parent is more than just giving everything to your children; it’s also preparing them for the surrounding world. Teaching them that some things are simply not meant to be and that it was ok.

While this change was initially painful, for no parent would ever want their child to suffer, as well as difficult because at the end of the day, Naomi was still a child, and thus, struggled to grasp certain subjects…

It was also very gratifying to observe Naomi grow up. See her do things that she couldn’t before, or perhaps never cared about, and help her overcome them. Because it reflected the love and care both had for their small family, and all that was yet to come.

Things that neither could wait to see happen, the realization of the amazing person she was always meant to be and supporting her every step of the way.

Ngl you and naoya were moved that she was that emotional about her father but at the same time you obviously didn't want her to cry. aaaaa parenthood is conflicting, but we love naomi nonetheless.

Thank you so much for sending in this ask!! I love writing about these small moments, it makes their dynamic so much more enjoyable. I hope to get to write about Naomi's first day of school soon!!!

Until then, take care, and hope to see you soon 🥰💖

[precious-little-scoundrel]

|| 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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[watatsumiis]

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!

[industriallyinsecure]

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

I

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

[bettysupremacy]

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?”

[cherryblossom-chopper]

》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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[violet27writes]

Echoes of Silence

Chapter 3: Truths and Lies

Sky-Centric. (Part 3 of ?) Ao3 Link.

Part 1, Part 2

- - -

Legend frowned.

Not that it was an unusual occurrence, or even an uncommon one. However, his frown was directed at Hyrule, something he knew had happened a total of fewer times than he had fingers on his left hand. But he felt like the traveler earned it this time.

Hyrule had done nothing but fret for the last four hours. Flittering over a still-sleeping Sky and just finally giving up on begging for magic potions. If that kid used any more magic, then they’d just have another body to nurse back to health. They still might have to if the brunette didn’t eat.

Yes, Legend was concerned for Sky. Yes, he waited impatiently for him to wake so they could assess the extent of the damage. But also, he wasn’t willing to let Hyrule harm himself in the process. He could get magic exertion from more effort, or heck, even magic poisoning if he got his hands on too many potions.

No one was doing any self-sacrificing on his watch, thank you very much. He’d stick by for good measure. Both to his successor’s side and to the Skyloftian’s sleeping form.

“Hyrule, please just sit down.”

“But what if he wakes up?” He asked, brows furrowed.

And that too! That stupid determined look on his face actually made him defiant. Refusing anything and everything if Hyrule decided he didn’t like it. “Hyrule. For the thousandth time, wearing yourself out isn’t going to help Sky.”

“But I need to be ready!”

“You aren’t helping-”

“Guys.”

Successor and predecessor met the cook’s gaze. In his hands, Wild held a platter of sliced fruit with a little bowl of cream and honey in the middle. He made a face that left no room for arguments as he set it in between them. “Eat. Dinner won’t be for a while still.”

There was a pause, as if waiting for an argument to start or for the other one to resume. Wild nodded, satisfied, returning to his cooking pot alongside Twilight.

Legend turned back to Hyrule, “You heard him. Now please eat.”

Hyrule didn’t move.

“I won’t eat until you do.” He continued. Did this boy’s stubbornness come from him? Legend sure hoped not.

There was a glance down at the platter.

The Vet sighed, “There’s honey in it.”

The kid finally broke, reaching for a strawberry to dunk in the cream mixture. He ate the whole thing in one bite, leaves and all. He grabbed a slice of melon next.

For a moment, Legend merely watched, as if to make sure Hyrule was actually eating. He was. So Legend ate an apple slice.

They ate in silence, occasionally glancing up at each other but never for longer than a second. Which was fine. Until they ran out of procrastination food.

The Vet sat back, thinking of the best way to break the silence. He wasn’t going to yell, knowing full well that hardly anyone reacted best to that. But logic didn’t seem to work on Hyrule right now. Sky wouldn’t be any better or worse if Hyrule wasn’t a foot away when he woke up. He had to have known that. Go for a more gentle approach, maybe?

He sighed, then opened his mouth to speak-

“Legend?” -As Hyrule cut him off. His green gaze was fixed on the grass in front of him. Voice soft and quiet.

“Yes?”

Hyrule’s ears dropped, nearly pinning themselves to the side of his head. “I’m sorry for being annoying. I’m just worried? Mad? At myself? I don't even know, Ledge.”

There it was, Legend thought, no yelling required. “And why is that?”

Somehow, the teen’s head ducked even lower. “I… He’s… hurt. And I don’t think I can fix it.”

Legend paused, relaying the words in his head. “You don’t… What do you mean?”

“There’s nothing wrong with his ears. I’ve checked over and over again, thinking possibly I’ve just missed something or wasn’t paying enough attention. But there’s nothing. The only injuries my magic can find is his lightning burns, which I can’t exactly finish healing right now. There’s nothing else to fix.”

Ironically, the following silence was deafening, heavy and suffocating. Hyrule looked hopeless.

‘Hopelessness’ was an emotion that Legend had a hard time deciphering with the Traveler. Having grown in such a desolate wasteland world, the teen never knew if he would have a safe place to rest his head for longer than a night. He was realistic, expecting the worst out of everything. It wasn’t hope that kept him alive, day after day, year after year. It was his resilience. His wit. His courage.

Hyrule rarely lost hope because he never held onto it in the first place. However, Legend had seen his entire outlook and mindset starting to change the longer he spent with the other heroes. He started to want things rather than just being content enough with what life brought him.

He would ask Wild for certain meals. Time to teach him better swordplay. Sky how to mend his trousers. Legend if he could sleep beside him.

And that was what ultimately led to Hyrule finding pieces of hope. Building it and watching it and holding it tightly without truly knowing what it was. He’d even asked Legend if he could explain that weird feeling that sparked in his chest.

Now it had fallen apart in his hands, leaving him with crumbs of whatever hope he had bound to his heart.

Hyrule was realistic. He didn’t lie or give sweet nothings. He told it like it was.

Legend began to reach out for his successor, drawing back as Hyrule moved out of his reach. That stung.

“So… You’re saying he’s deaf? For now, right?”

“Well, yes. But as far as I know,” Hyrule hesitated, giving Legend enough time to figure out the ending. “He might never hear again.”

⋟❋⋞

Screaming. Someone was screaming. Everyone was screaming.

One moment it was Zelda, or Groose, or Pippin. Yelling for him, begging for him to save them. He would run towards them, tripping over nothing and everything as this world was nothing but darkness. He would get closer and closer before someone else would cry out, from another direction. He heard Instructor Horwell, Impa, even Ledd, yelling and yelling until they simply stopped, leaving him to chase the next voice deeper into the darkness.

It was hard to breathe, his lungs working overtime as he gasped for breath. The air felt thicker as time went on. His head felt lighter. He tripped over and over on nothing but his own clumsy feet.

Then it was his brothers calling for him. No longer one by one. He could hear them all, screaming, yelling, crying out. Their voices came from every direction and Sky fell…

Warrior’s blood-curdling scream came from in front, Time and Wild from behind, Hyrule, Wind and Twilight to his right, Legend and Four on the Left.

“Help!”

Sky couldn’t move.

“Save us!”

Sky couldn’t choose.

“Stop them!”

He threw his hands over head.

“Please!”

The voices only grew louder.

Something grabbed at his arms.

“No!”

Please.

Holding him down to the ground.

“Sky!”

Make.

Pulling at his hair.

“Sky!”

It.

He was too late.

“Sky!”

Stop.

Always too late-

-The sound vanished the moment he opened his eyes, cutting off before another loved one could cry out his name in vain. His breath was heaving as he tried to gasp for air, coughing mutely as it caught in his lungs. Hands still held him down. He had no strength to fight back against it. Only, he realized he wouldn’t have to fight as the tears fell from his eyes and cleared his vision.

The Veteran was over him, pinning his wrists to the ground by his head, brow furrowed in a concerned way rather than in a pissed-off way.

Unknown hands carded their fingers through his hair, reminding him so greatly of Zelda and her presence. However, it wasn’t her. These hands were too calloused and swept his hair forward instead of back. But they were nearly as gentle.

Sky slowly opened his hands and revealed his palms in a ‘surrendering’ gesture. A moment later he was released, Legend moving to kneel beside him, next to a wide-eyed Hyrule. He found that the skin of his arms still stung and the muscles in them were too worn to make him want to move them at all. Instead, he focused on trying to breathe, closing his eyes, and trying to ignore the hot tears rolling down the sides of his face and hitting his ears.

With his eyes closed and his ears not hearing, it was hard to know how much time was passing. A small hand slipped inside of his. The hand on his head paused for a moment, lifted his head into their lap, carefully wiped the tears from his cheeks, then returned to comb through his hair.

‘Safe.’ He thought. ‘You are safe.’

Another hand began tapping on his left wrist- Tap tap tap, pause, tap tap tap tap tap. It repeated. It was matching his gasping. He breathed in. Tap tap tap. He breathed out. Tap tap tap tap. He tried to follow the pattern, inhaling, holding it, then exhaling. The taps eventually started to slow, the time in between breaths getting longer. The harsh air trapped in his lungs began calming down, leaving him with more controlled -albeit shaky- breaths. The pattern patently continued over and over. Repetitive. Something to focus on other than the dream he’d just been pulled out of.

When he slipped back into sleep, the people surrounding him kept the darkness at bay.