#that harms you and eat them and chew them up (like I'd do to you if it was inverted). Life is like that. We eat and are eaten. We also

[blackvahana]

i love seeing (certain) people bitch about parasites and its like. yeah. now youre rousing the urge to infect you with them

[loveindefinitely]

༊*·˚ OUR HEARTS BEAT TOGETHER — how they react to seeing your self harm scars

featuring. simon 'ghost' riley + johnny 'soap' mactavish + kyle 'gaz' garrick

warnings. sfw, fem!reader, self harm (on thighs), mental health issues, pre-established relationships

⤷ simon 'ghost' riley

you're lying in bed, your body draped over his and his hand idly tracing patterns on the back of your thigh. it's a lazy saturday night in, and you're both content to just lay down and enjoy each other's company.

turning, trying to dig yourself even closer to simon and get comfier, your sleep shorts ride up without you realising.

when simon's hand moves up to continue his patterns, he pauses when he runs his fingers over raised skin. thin, scarred skin -- the kind that would be extremely hard for an enemy to cause.

"princess?" his voice rumbles, a sleepy lilt to his tone as a crease forms between his eyebrows.

your eyes go wide, and anxiety grips your throat like a merc's hand. mouth falling open to say something, anything, you find yourself mute.

his other hand comes up to rest at the back of your head, a comforting weight as his hand continues to trace over the newly found scars.

"tell me," he says, imploring. not quite a demand, but not a request, either.

with a tremble, you move to wrap your smaller hand over his much larger one, stilling his movements. working your mouth over the syllables, you manage out a weak, "i haven't done it since i joined the 141."

his stiffened muscles ease, if only slightly. his breath comes out in a deep, unsteady exhale as he slowly nods.

"you didn't tell me," he murmurs. just a statement, not a judgement, or an accusation. just the truth.

"didn't want to scare you off," you admit, and the truth is poisonous on your tongue. "didn't know how to bring it up."

his hand starts playing with your hair, gently urging you to rest your head back against his neck. he runs warm, and the contact gives you some much needed relief.

"'m not sure what to say," he says, slowly, carefully. he weighs the words in his mouth before he continues, his voice unusually hesitant. "jus' know i love you, princess. no matter what."

a gentle smile creeps up onto your face as you press a light kiss on the skin behind his ear. "love you, simon."

he gently pulls your sleep shorts down, and those words ring undeniably true.

⤷ johnny 'soap' mactavish

with a huff of annoyance, you plant your hand on the counter in front of you and rise to the tips of your toes, reaching with your right hand for the jar of cookies on top of the shelf in front of you. it's a pointless effort, considering your height, and how tall johnny's put the cookies.

bastard. he did this on purpose, you knew it.

"johnny!" you yell out, annoyance evident in his tone. if it were any other situation, you'd find it hilarious how he rushes into the kitchen, eyes wide. he knew he was in deep shit from your voice alone.

"baby...?" he asks, a nervous grin plastered on his face. somehow, he makes even that look charming.

it just serves to piss you off more.

you turn around, and repeat the actions you were doing before, emphasising your point. "look what you've done! now i can't even eat cookies in peace," you huff out, reaching for them yet again to no avail.

he's silent behind you, and you get back down to your feet with an eyeroll as you turn around, ready to chew him out.

however, you stop yourself, when you meet his blue eyes.

they're filled to the brim with sadness, and confusion, and worry. your mouth runs before you can stop it. "look, i'm not actually mad, it's honest cute but--"

he cuts you off as he pulls you into a soft, gentle kiss. it's the kind of kiss he gives you before a mission, or after an argument, or after something's made you cry. so what...

he pulls away, eyes searching your face for what, you weren't sure.

"i love you," he says, voice steady but weak in a way johnny's never was. "i wish you'd told me, i'd never've cared, baby, yer still stunnin'."

your mouth drops open, eyes becoming glassy. you were an idiot, really, wearing those shorts and reaching up like that. hadn't thought, hadn't used your brain.

"i..." you start, but find yourself not being able to finish the sentence. his hands come up to wipe underneath your eyes, face distressed but so caring. so loving.

"i'm sorry," you mumble, unsure.

he shakes his head immediately. "no. never be sorry, baby, 'm not mad, jus' worried."

and that hurts. it truly, really hurts, but he presses his lips against your shut eyes, presses his lips underneath them, too. he pulls you in, his head resting on your shoulder and arms wrapped tight around you.

"'m never lettin' you go. never. the day i do, i'll be in the ground."

⤷ kyle 'gaz' garrick

you're laying on the couch sideways, your feet in kyle's lap as he gently paints your toenails. you'd won a bet earlier that day about price, and you were ringing in your payment happily.

although he pretended to be annoyed, it was fairly obvious that he was enjoying giving you princess treatment.

his tongue sticks out a little bit from the corner of his mouth, eyes focused on applying the nail polish as carefully and nicely as possible. you can't help but think about how lucky you were, having him as your partner. having him to love.

your eyes flutter closed, your knees straightening out from where they had been bent, to fully relax and enjoy the comforting position and moment.

they snap back open, however, when you realise that he's stopped painting them.

"done?" you ask, cheerful and grinning like the idiot in love you were.

you watch as kyle swallows, adam's apple bobbing. he shakes his head, brows furrowed and mouth pulled into a tight, grim line.

"what... what happened?" he asks, voice cracking slightly.

you tilt your head to the side, before it hits you.

looking down, you can see the scars under the living room light, and it makes your heart skip a beat. you'd been so careful, so cautious of him not seeing them.

he takes your silence as the answer it is, and his large hand grips both of your ankles in it, a comforting yet possessive presence.

"can we talk about it?" he asks, searching your eyes and expression for permission. it breaks your heart, shattering it on the surface like an ice rink in november.

you nod, a sharp movement of your head, and he exhales quietly, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment.

when he meets your eyes yet again, it's with a warm determination.

"if you ever feel like you need to do it again, or you're struggling, talk to me, my love. please. i'm here for a reason. cut me if you need to, or cry on my shoulder if it helps. just please, don't hurt yourself."

the earnestness, the cautious and adoring tone, it has your face crumpling and tears falling down your cheeks.

in one moment, you're falling apart, and in the next, you're seated in his lap, and he's putting you back together again.

with scarred hands and tender touches.

a/n. veryyy self indulgent. might add more characters later, was gonna do price but was struggling with the scenario. if any of you guys have any ideas pls comment or send in an ask!! thank you for the reception of the other fics, especially considering they were my first cod pieces ever!!! love you all x

[stiltonbasket]

Vampire WWX/Fae LWJ: What is their first time sleeping in the same room like? Their first breakfast? Or when WWX notices that LWJ is softer with bunnies?

part 1

On the morning after his arrival at the Cloud Recesses, Wei Wuxian opens his eyes to find Lan Zhan's moon-white face hovering less than an inch above his.

"I am going out to fetch breakfast for us," Lan Zhan says stiffly. "What do vampires eat when they cannot get human blood?"

So rude, Lan Zhan! Wei Wuxian laments to himself, rolling a sleeping A-Yuan onto his back. You could have at least wished me a good morning first, couldn't you?

But then, he had woken Wei Wuxian to ask what he wanted for breakfast, so perhaps this is just what Lan Zhan is like when he tries to be kind.

"Meat, mostly," Wei Wuxian replies, watching as his husband grimaces in distaste. "But half-blooded xuemo can survive without it, so you needn't hunt for me. I'd be grateful for a bit of the porridge you and your brother like as long as you give me permission to eat it."

He winks, making Lan Zhan blush all the way up to his ears. "You will give me permission, won't you?"

"I will, but that is beside the point. By the laws of your people, I am your husband, so it is my duty to provide the nourishment you need." The faerie takes a deep breath. "If you require meat, I will bring you some suitable creature to kill and eat as you see fit. I cannot do the killing myself, but fetching the animal—that I can do."

Wei Wuxian's heart melts; for all faeries hate to do harm to living creatures, and yet his Lan Zhan is willing to do most of the hunting work on Wei Wuxian's behalf.

"There's no need for that," he says gently. Lan Zhan opens his mouth to protest, clearly not liking the look of Wei Wuxian's thin wrists and sallow face; but Wei Wuxian only motions toward the south side of the cave, where he can hear the river gurgling through the trees on the other side of the wall. "You go out and buy some rice and vegetables, and I'll catch some fish for myself while you're away."

Lan Zhan inclines his head and departs, taking his money purse with him; for while the Lan faeries grow their own vegetables in the wood, they have to buy rice and dried spices from the human settlement to the north.

No wonder their food is so bland, Wei Wuxian thinks wryly, as he makes his way towards the river with A-Yuan in his arms. Lan Zhan doesn't have a single herb in his kitchen, except for that old lump of ginger.

He plants A-Yuan in the soft ground near the water, as he usually does at this time of morning. Wei Wuxian helps him dig his little legs as far into the ground as they can go, looking on in satisfaction as the three long leaves on the baby's head unfurl and reach up towards the sun; and then he lays a fish trap in the shallows and splashes across the river, keeping A-Yuan in his field of sight as he searches for kindling seasonings.

He manages to find wild cloves and garlic growing on the far bank of the stream; and by the time he goes back to examine his fish trap, A-Yuan has finished sunning his leaves and soaking his little body in the mud.

"I don't know if you're old enough to eat food," Wei Wuxian muses, marching back to the cave with A-Yuan wriggling under one arm and the laden trap under the other. "You need to be sunned and watered like a plant, so eating fish might make you sick. We'd better not risk it."

A-Yuan squeals and looks up at Wei Wuxian with wet, reproving eyes. "So you do want to eat fish!" Wei Wuxian says accusingly, making A-Yuan shriek with laughter. "But you don't have any teeth. I don't know very much about babies, Yuan'er, but I do know that the women in Jieyu Village never started weaning theirs before the babies cut a first tooth."

The baby looks more wronged than ever. "Bu!"

"Perhaps we should boil the rice into porridge, and put pieces of the fish inside," says a deep voice from behind them. "That way, the rice will be soft enough for A-Yuan to swallow without chewing."

"Oh!" Wei Wuxian turns around and nearly jumps out of his shoes at the sight of Lan Zhan, standing at the mouth of the cave with a bag of rice slung over his shoulder. "Lan Zhan, don't be so quiet when you're walking. I nearly dropped A-Yuan."

Lan Zhan shakes his head. "I doubt you could ever do such a thing. But in the future, I will endeavor to make more noise when you are close by."

He lowers his eyes to Wei Wuxian's fish trap. "Did you catch anything?"

"A pair of grass carps," Wei Wuxian tells him, extracting the fish from their prison and holding them up for Lan Zhan to see. "Now, go light the fire and fetch some water from the well. I need hot water for A-Yuan's bath, and it's past time for breakfast."

So Lan Zhan lights the fire in the little courtyard; and there is a courtyard, much to Wei Wuxian's relief, because Lan Zhan built his small refuge after the fashion of most human dwellings, so that Wei Wuxian could almost forget that his cave was a cave and not a wooden house. After that, he sets off for the nearby well with a yoke fitted about his neck and shoulders, returning scarcely ten minutes later with enough water for both breakfast and A-Yuan's bath.

"I will bathe A-Yuan while you fry the fish," Lan Zhan says, dropping the pails and taking the baby from Wei Wuxian's arms. "There is oil in the bag of groceries I brought, if you need it."

"You didn't have oil in your kitchen?"

His husband sighs. "I used the last of it for yesterday's dinner. Now go."

Wei Wuxian nods and makes his way outside, where he finds a strange contraption for grilling set up in the middle of the courtyard. It looks strong enough to support a hook and pan; but the fish will cook faster in the coals of the fire, so he spears the two carps and roasts them with his foraged seasonings until the skins are burned black.

"Is the rice ready?" he calls, ducking back into the cave. "And what about A-Yuan?"

"A-Yuan is ready. The rice is not," is his husband's laconic answer. "Come take him, and I will bring the rice out to you when it is cooked."

In the end, it takes another quarter-hour before the rice porridge is cooked through and made cool enough to eat. Wei Wuxian feeds some of it to A-Yuan and tries a little himself, after which he puts down his spoon to scold Lan Zhan for being so miserly with the salt and ginger.

Lan Zhan looks oddly pleased for a faerie being scolded about his cooking, though Wei Wuxian can't begin to imagine why.

Stranger still, that breakfast is one of the best Wei Wuxian has ever had; and he doesn't understand that, either.

[nobodywritingao3]

Shameful Company [ch 3] Lady Lie [3/4]

masterpost | previous

The village Tommy grew up in was located in a beast's territory, a man eating serpent's. Isolated from the world, all he's ever known is loneliness. When he's forced outside the safety of the town walls he meets a stranger who claims to live beyond the village. They become fast friends despite the fact that the man is clearly hiding something - but can you really blame Tommy? He's never had a friend before.

CW for entire fic: - Wilbur eats people lol - swearing

title taken from 'Shameful Company' by Rainbow Kitten Surprise

chapter title taken from 'Lady Lie' by Rainbow Kitten Surprise inspired by the talented @beckyu and her story 'My Monster to Slay' (tumblr) (AO3)

word count: 4.3k 🐍 read it on AO3

CW for section: depiction of depressive episode including suicide attempt, self harm, disordered eating, and anger issues

Kintsugi (金継ぎ, "golden joinery"), also known as kintsukuroi (金繕い, "golden repair"), is the Japanese art of repairing broken pottery by mending the areas of breakage with lacquer dusted or mixed with powdered gold, silver, or platinum; the method is similar to the maki-e technique. As a philosophy, it treats breakage and repair as part of the history of an object, rather than something to disguise. Kintsugi

How have things been since last you messaged me? I'm reminding you to keep the antidote close, perhaps on your body. I can't imagine he'll be happy trapped in human form and I recommend you keep your guard up.

"FUCK. YOU!" Wilbur screamed, smashing Phil's equipment on the ground. There was a noise like shattering glass as it landed,.

Phil winced, wondering what exactly got ruined. He toyed anxiously with his necklace. "I'm sorry," he said soothingly. "But you need to - "

"What I need is to not be stuck in this - this body!" He crumpled into a ball on the floor, breathing heavily and shaking like a leaf.

"I'm sorry," Phil repeated. "I'm so, so sorry." He made to approach him but Wilbur fell back with a growl at his first movements, and he stopped dead in his tracks.

He's had a hard time adjusting. I'm worried he won't move past this. I'm trying to be patient and I'm doing everything I can in the meantime, but sometimes he just -

"Wil, sweetheart, you need to eat something."

"No." His voice was bitter and hot.

"You haven't eaten anything in days - would you please try the stew? It would put something into your belly without you having to - "

"No." He was more insistent that time, but as well, his voice cracked and wavered. He looked away from Phil and harshly blinked tears from his eyes.

Phil nudged a half bowl of mushroom soup towards him. "There are some potatoes and the like in there, but they're softened from being cooked. I know chewing is new to you, but it's a skill you can practice and - "

"I don't want to learn how to chew," he gritted out. "I'd rather starve."

"Wilbur - you will if you don't eat, please, just try - "

I'm sorry, Phil, that's terrible.

"Oh fuck - honey, what did you do?" Phil dropped his bag and hurried to Wilbur. Kneeling down, he gently took the boy's hands in his own and delicately held them palm up to expose the wrists.

Wilbur stared blankly at the wall. He was completely unresponsive and looked terribly pale.

Phil tried to focus on his labored breathing. Dead children don't breathe. And Wilbur was breathing very hard indeed.

"We're gonna get you cleaned up, okay? It could be a lot worse than it is, but you're still - you're losing a lot of blood."

He pulled him up and Wilbur went without resistance.

The motion seemed to pull him from the fog, from the dark place he was trapped in, but only by a little. He focused hazily on Phil's face before his eyes slid away. He leaned into Phil's touch.

Phil complied, curling protective arms around him and entirely supporting his weight. His heart pounded painfully in his chest as he felt warm, sticky blood beginning to soak into his clothes. "You're okay, you're okay... you're gonna be okay," he mumbled to him. "Everything's gonna be okay."

I'm worried about him. I don't think he's gonna get better.

It took Wilbur three days to wake up.

Every few hours, Phil would press his fingers against the boy's neck just to make sure his pulse was still going.

He lost sleep.

Whenever his body did finally succumb to the exhaustion, he was plagued by the same nightmare. In it, there was a cold body that wouldn't breathe but wouldn't stop bleeding, no matter what he did. He could apply any amount of bandages or tourniquets or even stitches, but the blood would soak through and the wounds would split open. He didn't know why he was even trying to stem the blood flow as the child was long dead, but he couldn't stop himself. Phil just wanted him to be okay.

The cave overflowed, a testament to his failure. The blood was viscous, solid, and completely nontransparent. As it engulfed the floor and the beds and the furniture, he became overcome with the paralyzing fear that everything it swallowed was gone forever, and he could dive deep and swim hard without ever reaching the bottom. The only thing left unblemished by the void was the body itself, frail and small and helpless and dead. Phil couldn't stop trying to save him, futile as it was. The red seeped into his eyes. He was rendered blind, and the last thing he took in before it filled his delicate lungs and killed him dead was the overpowering smell of iron and the distinct, hollow feeling of shame.

He would wake up crying and soaked in cooling sweat, and he'd fall over himself to reach Wilbur's bed. The only thing that could calm him down after those dreams was placing his ear over the boy's heart and listening to the steady beat.

Phil didn't leave the cave. He spent his days watching Wilbur. In preparation for his waking, he'd cook, boiling potatoes and grain and meat until they lost form from the gentlest touch, and impatiently, he waited. He cleaned the wounds and fought the infection with a combination of antiseptic and magic. He redressed the bandages constantly (thanking his stars that the blood never seeped through), and reapplied balm twice a day.

Under his gentle care and watchful eye, Wilbur's body healed. His body healed, but Phil never stopped worrying for his mind.

Shouldn't think like that. He had a bad moment, but he's already proven he's a strong kid. He must have been, to survive what he has. Have faith in him. He needs to be loved before he can be lovable.

"Why did you save me?"

Phil looked up sharply. It was the first thing he'd said in a week. The boy's voice was rough from disuse, and he visibly swallowed. Phil cautiously approached him, handing him his second serving of soup.

"I'm not sure how you mean that question."

He wouldn't look him in the eyes. "Just - why?"

Phil was quiet for a few seconds. "Do you think I shouldn't have?"

The boy looked uncomfortable and didn't say anything.

"I won't be angry if you say yes," Phil said gently. "I'm asking because you did that to yourself. And I have to wonder if you did it because you feel like you deserve to - "

"Does it matter why I did it?" He snapped, his fingers curling into a fist.

Yes. More than anything. "We don't have to think about that right now."

Wilbur softened. He was quiet several seconds. "So why did you save me?"

Because you were hurt. Because you're a kid. Because I don't believe anyone deserves to die. Because I believe you deserve to live. Because I love -

"Do I need a reason?" He sat on the edge of Wilbur's bed. Absentmindedly, his hand reached for the boy's hair and started to ruffle. He froze, realizing what he was doing, and made uncomfortable eye contact with Wilbur.

His cheeks were a bright red... but he wasn't withdrawing from the touch.

Phil slowly restarted his movements, scratching the boy's scalp. "You're adorable," he chanced.

Wilbur sputtered and slapped his hand away, earning a laugh from Phil. He tried to frown at him, but it didn't take long before he was laughing just as hard.

I hope you're right Tech, I really want this to work out for him. I admit, sometimes it feels like he's getting better, but other times -

Wilbur hadn't left his bed in two days.

"Take my hand, okay? I'll bring you up, and then you and I are gonna take a short walk outside. Get you some sunshine? Sounds nice, right mate?"

He stared at Phil's hand with weak contempt. "Can't you just leave me alone?" There was no real bite behind his words. "If you want to take a walk, just go by yourself."

Phil shook his head firmly. "Come with me." He kept his hand extended. "Fifteen minutes. I want to talk to you."

"About what?" Wilbur asked mistrustfully.

"About nothing. I don't have anything I want to talk to you about, I just want to talk to you."

"Well, we're talking right now."

Phil sighed and dropped his hand, his heart sinking to his feet. "Please come with me."

Wilbur glared at him.

~

"I made your favorite," Phil said hopefully, motioning towards the set dining table.

His face crumpled. "No thanks."

"When was the last time you ate?"

He didn't answer.

"Wil?"

~

"Put it down!" Phil yelled.

Wilbur scrambled backwards, a bloody bread knife still clutched desperately in his right fist. For someone who had only started walking regularly a year ago, he was surprisingly agile when pumped full of panic and adrenaline.

"What the fuck is your problem?!" He screamed back. Tears were streaming down his face and his left arm was bleeding freely.

"Please," Phil said, with as much patience and love as he could muster - which at the moment wasn't a lot - "just hand me the knife, okay?"

"Fuck no! And fuck you!"

"You can swear at me later," he begged, frustration seeping into his voice, "please just give me the fucking knife!"

Wilbur dodged his hands and sprinted towards the entrance of the cave. "Eat my fucking ass, Phil!"

Sometimes getting better looks like getting worse.

"I'm not - I can't do this!" Wilbur wailed, hugging his knees. "It's too hard, Phil, I'm never gonna get it."

Phil sat down next to him and pulled him into a tight hug, letting Wilbur empty himself of his emotions. It must have been an hour of heartbroken crying before Wilbur quieted down into sniffles and sharp breathing.

Phil sighed and traced patterns into his back. "I'm sorry. I know I say it all the time, but I'm so, so sorry."

He waited for Wilbur to snap at him, start yelling about how he should be sorry, how 'sorry' doesn't fix anything, how he hates him and no amount of 'sorry' can fix it, but he stays quiet.

Tentatively, Phil continues, "You've been working so hard. Learning to walk on two feet, and chew, and adjust to being small - it's a lot. You should have had someone to teach you these things when you were younger. I'm so sorry, Wilbur. It's so much, isn't it? It's not easy for you."

Wilbur's breathing hitched and Phil felt guilt well up inside of him.

"I - shit, sorry mate, I didn't mean to make you cry - "

Wilbur pressed himself into Phil's chest, leaning in hard and practically forcing Phil to keep his arms around him.

"Oh..." he said softly, blinking down at him.

"Are you gonna leave me?" He blurted out, voice muffled in Phil's chest.

Phil's heart ached. "No. Never. Never ever."

Wilbur clung on tight and didn't say anything else.

~

Wilbur was screaming again. Phil watched helplessly from his bed, where he'd woken up twenty minutes earlier to smashing and yelling. He fiddled with his necklace, worriedly taking in the scene before him.

Every book on nagas had its pages ripped out and crumpled, strewn across the ground like confetti, and a large portion of Phil's clothing had been torn into and cut up. Food was spilled across the floor. Everything was in disarray.

Wilbur was currently tossing things into the fireplace. The fire inside was steadily dying. He didn't seem to give much regard as to if what he was burning was flammable or not, but he still tossed anything he could reach into the pile.

Phil stood up, his heart aching, and made his way to the kitchen area. He gingerly stepped over broken shards of glass and spilled rations while Wilbur stared at him, breathing hard and looking ready to brawl.

Phil just gave him a sad look.

"Will you fucking quit that?!" Wilbur snapped, sending a pile of papers onto the ground.

He winced as they went down, and Wilbur bared his teeth in a mock smile.

Phil just sighed and pulled open one of the cabinets, happy to find that the tea, kettle, and cups were still perfectly preserved. He started to set some water boiling on the stove.

Apparently dissatisfied with his reaction, Wilbur screamed again before picking up a lantern and smashing it down as hard as he could. Shards flew and spread across the ground.

Phil ignored it.

Wilbur started to march towards him, but stumbled and gasped in pain as a long shard of glass lodged itself into his foot. He made a throaty, angry noise and stomped his foot down hard, pushing the debris deeper into his skin before continuing to limp towards Phil. He readied a hand to smack the boiling kettle off the stove, and it was here that Phil finally stepped in.

He grabbed Wilbur around the wrists and tugged him away, firm but gentle. Wilbur writhed in his grip but he paid no mind, sweeping him into bridal style and carrying him to his bed as he clawed and thrashed. Phil deposited him onto the mattress and turned away, back to the tea. He continued preparing it in silence.

Wilbur stood up and hobbled to the kitchen. Phil made to stop him again, thinking he was still trying to knock the tea over, but instead he reached for the cabinet containing their silverware and dishes. He snapped open the little door and started grabbing for the contents.

Staring him in the eyes, Wilbur took a dish at a time and smashed them against the wall. He got through five while coldly glaring at Phil before he started to pick up the pace, gradually paying less and less attention to his reactions - or more accurately, his lack thereof - as he threw everything he could at the walls, the ceiling, the floor. Hot tears streamed down his face. Then he ran out of dishes. He kicked a half broken bowl into the wall and stepped into the shards. By now, there were bloody footsteps all over the floor, tracing out his meltdown, and he seemed all too happy to add more paint to the canvas. He fell to his knees and the glass sank into his flesh there as well. He pressed his palms into the floor and he raised his hands, Phil caught sight of the torn up, encrusted skin.

Wilbur started to whimper, and then he started to sob.

Phil poured two cups of hot tea and left them on the table to cool. He made his way to Wilbur, assuming he'd gotten it out of his system.

He looked up at Phil, his cheeks splotchy and red and his eyes completely bloodshot, and then he reached for the nearest sizable glass shard. Seeing Phil quicken his pace, he quickened too, raising it rapidly towards his face - towards his eye. Just as he made to plunge it into his skull, Phil grabbed him around the arm and held him back. He pulled the glass from his grip, ignoring the cutting sting on its edge and let it shatter on the floor before Wilbur could further self mutilate. He tried to grab him around the armpits, get him to his feet, but Wilbur kicked him hard and shoved him away.

"GO AWAY!" Wilbur screamed. "JUST FUCKING GO!"

Phil tripped as he backed away, his breath catching in his lungs.

Wilbur inhaled sharply. "Fuck - just fuck off..." His voice came out considerably weaker.

It was silent, save for his soft crying.

After a painfully long half minute, he managed to choke out a single, heartbroken, "Why?"

"Why... why what?"

A sob fought its way from his mouth in spite of his best attempts to choke it down, and a fresh cascade of tears went down his face. "Just - why?" A dam broke. "I don't -  I don't get it," he cried, barely able to speak for the sobs wracking his body. "I don't understand. Why? Why? I don't - I just... I just don't fucking get it."

He raised his a hand to wipe away his tears, and the invisible barrier keeping Phil anchored to the spot dissolved. He shot forward and stopped Wilbur's hands, insistent on wiping away his tears himself.

"Glass hands," he murmured. "Let me, okay? Just let me..."

Wilbur hung his head and continued his broken wailing, but he didn't fight as Phil carefully wiped the tears and snot from his face.

Phil sifted through the debris on the ground until he unearthed one of his day packs. He opened it and reached into a padded inner pocket, pulling out a small vial. He returned to the table and pulled one of the teacups forward, emptying the potion into the warm drink.

"Healing pot," he gentle explained. "Let's get you fixed up."

He returned to Wilbur's side and helped him to his feet. Slowly guiding him to the table. An absurd thought hit him then, how similar this action was to when he'd first guided Wilbur to the cave after trapping him in human form. He winced with each limped step Wilbur took, knowing the shards in his feet would only wedge itself deeper into his body. He sat him down at the table.

Wilbur reached out a bloody, glass encrusted hand for his drink and Phil shooed him off, raising the cup to the boy's lips instead. "There's enough in this cup to heal all the damage you took, so you need to drink all of it. But you can pace yourself."

He took a few sips before miserably pulling away. Phil obliged, setting the cup down and pulling his own towards himself. He watched idly as the glass in Wilbur's hands slowly started to push itself out.

"There you go," he murmured warmly. "Potion's doing its job just fine."

By now, Wilbur's crying had begun to taper off.

Phil raised the cup to the boy's mouth again, and he accepted the drink. The last of the glass pushed itself free from his hands, and Phil gently set it into his grip.

They sat in silence. The sun was starting to rise. Their home was a broken mess.

Wilbur stared shamefully into his cup. "I just don't get it," he repeated, voice broken and raspy.

Phil nodded. "Which part?"

"The whole thing."

They continued sipping their tea.

Phil returned to the cabinet, grabbing a jar of honey. He stirred a few dollops into Wilbur's cup and refilled it with another portion of tea. "It'll soothe your throat."

They drank until the sun sat low in the sky.

"I made a mess," he said, breaking the silence.

Phil hummed. "It's okay."

Wilbur clenched his jaw. "How can you say that?"

"Easily."

They lapsed back into silence.

Wilbur chugged the rest of his tea, and then threw the cup against the wall. He turned to Phil with a curious, guarded expression.

Phil regarded him inquisitively. Wilbur's action had lacked anger or passion. If anything, it seemed half-hearted.

He continued sipping his tea. "Do you want another cup?" He clarified in afterthought, "Specifically to drink from."

Wilbur stared at him expressionlessly. "What. The fuck?"

"I'm not going to punish you, Wil," Phil stated with a slight note of exasperation.

He frowned at him. "I don't want you to," he said coldly, clearly offended by the implication.

Phil finished his own cup. "Okay."

"I don't!" he insisted.

"I said okay."

Wilbur was quiet. Then he inhaled sharply and spat out, "Aren't you mad at me?!"

"... I feel like that's irrelevant."

Wilbur glared at him, his hands starting to ball into fists.

Phil sighed, relenting. "Sometimes I am. Sometimes I can be very frustrated with your behavior."

Something in his face dropped and his body went limp, a devastated look like disappointment flashing across his face before he could properly cover it up with a snarl. "Good," he hissed.

"I get angry at you because I care about you, mate. If your goal is self destruction, I wouldn't count this as a victory."

"That doesn't make any sense - none of this makes any sense!" Wilbur exploded.

"I know it doesn't."

"Well, do you care to explain?"

Phil scrubbed at his face. "I would if I thought it would make you feel better." Before Wilbur could say something to add to his spiral, he continued plainly, "I'm going to throw this cup at the wall."

This caught him off guard. "Excuse me?"

Phil threw his teacup at the wall. It exploded. Wilbur stared at him with a slack jawed expression.

"I want to show you something."

He began to murmur under his breath while making quick motions with his hands. Light and sparks began to dance and fill the air behind his fingers' movements. Wilbur's eyes widened. The cup fragments lifted and floated airily towards the table from where they'd collected on the ground. They arranged themselves neatly in a circle. With a deliberate flick of his fingers, the shards fit themselves together like a jigsaw puzzles, and with a softly hummed three note tune, clean gold liquid started to materialize in the air and apply itself to the cracks. Wilbur watched in awe as the delicate shards slowly came together, even the smallest pieces finding their way to where they used to be. The cup, repaired with beautiful gold binding over its cracks, gently set itself onto the table before the pair.

"It's a kintsugi spell. And I want to teach you how to perform it. I also want to teach you how to brew healing potions."

Wilbur swallowed, a conflicted look crossing his face. "Is this why you aren't punishing me?" Because the damage I did wasn't permanent, wasn't big enough. Because I haven't truly pushed you to the edge?

Phil gave him a look. "I'm not punishing you because there's nothing in this world that you could do to me - or to anyone else - that would make me think you deserve to be punished."

A defiant look crossed his face and he spat out harshly, "That is bullshit. You're a fucking liar - or you're delusional. I don't know what's wrong with you, but that isn't how this works. I just want to know - " he cut himself off, glowering at the table.

"It is how this works," Phil gently countered. "It is how this is working."

Wilbur glared at him. "I've killed a lot of people, Phil."

"I know you have."

"And the majority of them didn't deserve it. At all. They were innocents." His voice broke at the end and he furiously blinked back tears. That indignant, heated look never left his face.

"I know that too."

"I ate most of them alive."

Phil didn't respond, only looking at him sympathetically.

"I heard them screaming and dying inside of me, and I never once felt bad about it." Liar.

"I know, Wil - "

"No. No, I don't think you do."

Phil sighed. "Sweetheart, I saw you eat Jared."

Wilbur's mouth fell open in shock, and a mortified look crossed his face.

"Don't be embarrassed that I know. The first time we met, you kept trying to kill me too. You kept trying to eat me."

He averted his gaze, his cheeks heating up and fresh tears collecting in his eyes.

Phil started to perform the kintsugi spell again. "The point is that I know. I know very well. And I still don't think you deserve to be punished."

He worked silently for another minute, pretending for Wilbur's sake that he didn't notice the streams of tears dripping down his face. He finished repairing the teacup Wilbur had thrown, and when he was done, he poured another portion of tea - the last portion left in the kettle - and gently dropped a spoonful of honey in. He stirred it, the sweet noise of the spoon moving in circles absolutely musical.

"I know it seems bad. I know it feels like this is a lost cause, that the damage is too much." He pushed the cup into Wilbur's hands. "But you would be surprised at the things you can fix."

Wilbur accepted the cup. His fingers traced over the gold sealed the cracks. Something in him seemed to die. "You can feel where it broke," he said desperately. His voice cracked into a whimper. "You can feel - they're still there."

"Of course they are," Phil said soothingly, running a finger across one of the gold veins on his own cup. "But the cups still hold tea just fine, don't they? You can tell our cups were broken, but they're still fully functional. And just as beautiful as they were before, even if they look different."

He touched the cup irreverently. "This tea set was a gift from my son, actually. Lots of love in these cups. Lots of history in them too."

Wilbur shrank back, fresh shame taking over his features. "I'm sorry," slipped past his lips. Phil looked at him curiously. It was the first time he'd ever heard him say that.

"You're misunderstanding me. I love these cups, mate. I'm still going to love them even if they get a little broken or chipped. I'm not going to throw them away just because of a little damage. Especially if the damage can be fixed."

He reached forward and gently pushed a few strands of hair from Wilbur's eyes. He adoringly thumbed the boy's temple. "I have every reason to keep these cups. I love these cups. Very, very much." He stared at him for a few seconds, a tender, sweet quality in his eyes. He let go of Wilbur's face and motioned for him to give him his hand.

"Will you learn the spell? I can't always be around to put things back together, and it would make me feel better if I knew someone taught you how to take care of the things you care about."

Still sniffling, Wilbur nodded. "Okay." And then he blurted out, "Thank you."

Phil smiled. "Of course. Anytime. I'm always happy to help you navigate these things, okay?"

Wilbur gave him a small smile in return, and for the first time since he'd brought him home, Phil felt like their story might have a happy ending.

~ ~ ~

🏷️: @i-am-beckyu @da3dm @flowers-of-plenty @gracideaviolet

ah haheuaheuhaeuahe. well i hope you enjoyed this

[xxmyhomexx]

SONG OF THE CRIMSON NILE: Bargain, Part Two

Part two of my of my previous post. Amen took the seat directly in front of her on the opposite end of the table. Eva noticed his plate already contained dry fish and mahshi, a wooden cup perched to his lips. He sipped and started to cut into his food, the sound of a knife audible to her ears.

She peered down at her plate. Hers was filled to the edges, but now if she were to dig in, it'd taste like the desert sand on her tongue. She pushed her food away, Amen watching her.

"I'm not hungry anymore," she shook her head.

A loud rumble caused her to shrink back, internally cursing herself. Amen raised a brow.

"Don't be stupid, Evthys," he chided. "You haven't eaten all day."

"And I don't plan on it," she retorted snarkily. "How do I know it's not poisoned? That you'll do away with me at my hunger?"

Amen slammed his utensils on the table, the plinking so loud it caused her to stiffen.

"Do you really think I'd sink so low?" He hissed. "If I wanted you dead, you would've been by now. You won't do any good starving yourself, and even if you did, you'd still be given your meals accordingly, because you're in MY house under MY orders...and I don't think it'd be wise to go hungry."

Eva glared daggers at him. No matter how much she wanted to protest, now wasn't the time to be selfish. She needed to eat, even if it meant taking it from the man she didn't want feeding her. She picked up her knife, cut a piece of fish, and plopped it in her mouth.

It was salmon, she realized. It slid down her throat with ease, making her cut off another, and another. The fish was rich, juicy, and delicious. When she tasted the other foods, they were just as good. She could stuff her mouth, and she'd still want seconds with a full belly. Soon, her mouth was so full she had to take one gulp of wine to wash it down, some of it dribbling down her chin.

Amen watched as she wiped her mouth with a napkin before cutting into his own food once more. He snacked on a piece of mahshi, combining it with fish. Now it was Eva's turn to watch him. Her cheeks crimsoned at the flexing of his jaw when he chewed, the way his throat bobbed as he swallowed, it was cathartic, the hunger melting from her eyes until reality snapped in.

No, no, no! He took you from your loved ones! Don't be fooled. She shook her head and continued to eat, distracting herself with another swig of wine.

"Are my friends ok?" Her voice broke the silence. "Are they really safe?"

Amen's jaw ticked. "You asking me is surprising. Considering this arraingement...yes. They are ok. Titian is looking after them."

"Is that supposed to comfort me?" Eva frowned. "I don't know if I can take the word of the supreme Epistates seriously, considering he dragged me miles away from my home."

"Save it, Evthys," Amen shut her down. "As long as you cooperate, no harm will come to you or your loved ones. Do your job here well, and you'll not give me reason to punish you."

"Oh such joy," Eva replied sarcastically. "I bet your parents must be proud that their son's a killer."

Amen's eyes twitched, fueled with rage. He suddenly wanted to strangle her, cut her throat for even MENTIONING his parents. How dare she insult them? He eyed her dangerously as his fingers tightened together. Eva flinched when she realized she hit a nerve.

"You have NO IDEA about the things I've done," his deep drawl sent chills down her spine. "And my family is NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS."

And that is how it remained: an unspoken threat in her ears. When he leaned back in his chair to continue eating, Eva peered at her plate: it was half-eaten, and she had room for more, but it wasn't appetizing anymore. Her stomach turned to lead, the heaviness of the evening weighing her down. She placed her utensils down and stood.

"Just remember this," she did her best to hide the quiver in her tone. "You took me from my loved ones...and I'll forever hate you for that."

She then exited the dining hall without so much as a backward glance, passing an unsuspecting Theone, who was slinked against the wall with a pitiful look. After she disappeared, the assistant followed her gaze until she slipped into the darkness.

~~~

A soft knock caused Eva to wake up.

"Evthys?" It was Theone. "May I come in?"

"If you must!" Eva groaned, rubbing her tired eyes. The door clicked open, and a pleasant-looking assistant came in holding a cage.

"Theone, it's late. What does Amen want now?"

"Oh, I'm not here on his orders," Theone shook her head. "I'm here with your friend."

Friend? Eva sat up as she watched her kneel to the floor, unlocking the cage. Sure enough, Omphis, Afiri, or Polyb come walking out. Eva's eyes widened as they jump or fly on the bed, right into her arms. Theone smiles as she watches her hug them for a long time.

"How did you get them here?" Eva asked.

"I know the guard to the animal house," Theone smiles. "He's never awake. And I knew you had a pet, so it was easy to sneak them out."

Eva is shocked that her animal companion is in the same room as her, unharmed and happily cuddling against her. She has to watch out for Polyb's talons, who flies right to the window for a comfortable perch. As soon as her pet is sound asleep, she turns to Theone.

"Thank you," her appreciation was apparent. "But I need someone to watch them. I know you're busy, Theone, but..."

"Say no more, Evthys," she vowed. "I'd be more than willing."

Theone strokes their head/wings, commenting on their beauty. They warm up to her immediately. Theone wishes her a good night as she leaves to her own house. Eva looks at her pet, suddenly feeling less wary and scared. Perhaps she could make this transition work, even if she was out of reach with her friends.

~~~

As Theone exited the room, she turned the corner and jumped back when the supreme Epistates leaned against the wall, arms crossed and not looking too pleased with Eva's personal assistant. He had an inkling something was happening when Eva left her dinner plate only half eaten, and while he knew she didn't plan anything, he saw Theone heading in a direction where maids, or healing assistants, were not permitted.

From the shadows, like a cat, Theone carried a cage that contained Eva's beloved pet. He never gave her orders to retrieve them, so why she went behind his back, it must be due to their encounter in Thebes when she gave her that cloak. Theone didn't hand out clothing like that, so Eva must've helped her with a commission under his nose.

Those wretched girls. He already had trouble with Eva almost refusing to eat, and now Theone was retrieving things for her. He could go and separate them for another maid, but would that be a difference? Probably not, and Eva was already overwhelmed.

"Epistates," Theone bowed, regaining her grace. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Having fun sneaking behind my back, Theone?" Amen's tone was dangerous. "It looks like Evthys has you already under her thumb."

Theone's eyes widened. "I'm just making sure she's comfortable, sir. You assigned me to her, and I just remember my orders."

"How thoughtful," Amen's eyes scanned the hall. "You're done. Return to your home now."

Theone nodded and rushed passed him, only stopping dead when he called out to her.

"And Theone...next time, if you need something, don't commission a sheshmu."

Blood running cold, Theone gulped before disappearing.

Amen sighed as he slumped against the wall. He had a lot of work to do, and it began now.

[bluecoolr]

For Life Or Until Fault

Alt Timeline 2.0 - Darrell x Odile Part 1

Warnings: none really, just a graveyard keeper settling in.

Odile belongs to @solmints-messyocdiary

The guardhouse was painted white with mint trim. Inside, however, it was plain, undusted, graying wood. At a hastily scrubbed deal table, Ilya, his potential supervisor and the cemetery's solitary guard sat eating a roasted chicken. In his grease-free hand, he held Sister Agatha's recommendation letter.

"Yeah." The guard's lips smacked as he chewed. "Yeah, everything seems to be in order."

He didn't give Darrell's papers so much as a cursory glance. He was a pair of hands that could work and a pair of ears that could take orders, everything else was of little interest.

"What kind of guns have you used?" Ilya creased the letter as he carelessly balled his hand. His pimples burned red in the chilly air.

Darrell was aware of the pair of rifles leaning haphazardly in the corner. "Bolt action. Lever action. Break action. Semi-automatic."

"Nice. Hey, what does that mean - fortui… fortuitous?"

Darrell pushed raven black hair from his face and told the truth. Ilya seemed genuinely interested. After much questioning, Darrell was able to convince him that yes, he was an amnesiac.

"What happened?"

"If I could remember, I'd tell you."

Ilya laughed and Darrell suffered to smile. What a stupid question, but Darrell couldn't blame him. He'd asked himself the same thing again and again. What had happened? What had he done?

He kept his discharge papers wedged between the pages of a dog-eared copy of Wuthering Heights. Under his name, there had been a checklist.

Is patient suicidal? No.

Is patient homicidal? No.

That was all the comfort he could have that he was good, that he had done no harm. But he had a sneaking suspicion that it wasn't the case.

Ilya plucked a torn piece of newspaper from a nearby stack. It was a simplified map of the cemetery. "This is the compound. Aside from the usual rabid fox and the odd drunk or two, we've been having grave robbings. Each disturbed grave is marked in X," he explained. There were at least a dozen x's. "This isn't entirely accurate anymore. We found two more just this week."

Darrell picked up a pen and said, "Show me."

Ilya studied him as he bent over to mark the spots on the map. Unremarkable eyes. A large pointy nose with a rounded tip. A handful of rogue freckles. He was still the type women would consider handsome, and Ilya resented him for it.

"Management wants you to stop who's doing them. People are mad."

"As they should be," Darrell murmured.

"Mmm." Ilya got up, bringing a chicken leg with him. "I'll show you where you'll be staying. You'll be working in the graveyard more, so you won't be set up here with me."

Ilya gave him a lazy tour and handed him his copy of the gate keys. He also gave him the keys to the "manor" house, which were old and cast from brass.

As they picked their way through a plot choked with headstones and slabs, a large dog leapt into their path. Her shaggy coat was mostly gray with black fur running down the back and flanks like a draped blanket.

Ilya had an iron grip on Darrell's sleeve as the dog barked furiously. He tried to kick it. Darrell wrenched the chicken leg from his hand and the dog paused. She ran to pick it up when Darrell tossed it to the side.

She trotted back to Darrell's side, very much devoted. When Ilya tried to pet her though, she tried to bite him.

The squat brick-and-limestone manor house was decrepit. It had once belonged to the proprietor of the cemetery, but had been abandoned long ago. Several windows were smashed and parts of the structure had long collapsed. The state of the inside was unspeakable.

His pockets lined with the advance from that month's pay, Darrell went into the nearest town to buy supplies. His new dog, whom he had named Isabelle after the unfortunate wife of Heathcliff, accompanied him. She came home with a new collar and had a bowlful of ground pork mixed with egg for dinner.

After cleaning, Darrell had moved every usable scrap of furniture into the front parlor. He had a desk, a dining table, a couple of chairs, a chest of drawers with a pitcher and basin perched on top, and a chaise lounge for a bed. Isabelle was given a wad of blankets and comforters by the fire.

The map of the cemetery was pressed flat across the desk. He decided to investigate the vandalized graves in the morning during his first patrol. Presently, he lay in bed, waiting for sleep. The world shut out by the music from his personal stereo.

Just before sleep overtook him, he noticed that Isabelle was staring intently at the window over his bed. There was a pleasant twinkle in her eyes and she wagged her tail as though enticing someone to play.

Alarmed, Darrell sprang up and yanked his headphones off. He thought he saw pale, willowy fingers brush the dirty glass and a dash of wild blonde hair.

Grabbing his rifle, he dashed out into the porch. The yard was deserted, but he heard the frantic patter of bare feet round the side of the house.

He gave chase and came to a halt in the empty backyard. He began to doubt if he saw anyone at all.

There!

In the woods, flitting through the trees. A white dress. A shoulder white in the moonlight. The woman turned once. Then, she was gone.

[boofts]

i feel like a bad person

tw ed, sh, body disformia

i feel like a bad person.

because every time someone like you trusts me enough to open up about your issues i always end up invalidating them in my head.

you tell me you used to self harm with tweezers, you'd pinch your skin with them until you left scars.

internally i would look down on you, i cut myself with real knives. i'd think.

i would sit in the darkness of my closet and cry, because nobody really ever wanted me. and draw lines, five at a time. it has to be fives. it has to be even. down the places nobody would ever see.

my inner thigh.

my lower torso.

my upper hips.

until i craved fresh skin to mar.

and i'd slice places they could see.

my wrists.

my shoulders.

my shins.

maybe i was hoping they would.

you'd tell me you don't like to look at your body, you tell me you deny yourself meals.

that's cute. i would think. i examine my body in the mirror every chance i get. searching for the hundreds of flaws i know are there. the weight of my stomach. the awkward length of my arms. the knobby bend in my knees. the ungraceful way my calves would swoop into my ankles. the curve of my jaw. the wideness of my eyes. the swollenness of my constantly chewed on lips. the way my body would look different to me every time i looked in a mirror. the flaws distorting and taking up more room in the reflective surfaces.

and i wouldn't eat. and even when i did i would make myself feel guilty enough to kneel in front of a toilet and force my fingers down my throat until my stomach would give no more and tears were streaming down my face and into my nose and mouth.

suffocating me.

drowning me.

you tell me you've got a new crush. i laugh and indulge you in your fantasies. all the while i drown in my delusions.

you have crushes, fleeting forms of want. i have soulmates, i fall in love. unending, never wavering, unstoppable need.

i pour and i pour all my heart into this person, and never get anything in return. i would never dare to even ask.

you exchange looks in the halls and text me about it immediately after.

i spend a whole afternoon drowning in their voice, but still craving more. and yet i never say a word to anyone. because it would ruin the feeling of my very own Romeo. because with feelings as shallow as yours you couldn't possibly understand, right?

i feel like a bad person.

because i know that you feel as validly as i do.

but you never seem to actually show any thoughts for others. no empathy.

and i have been nothing but kind.

at least... outwardly.

i feel like a bad person.

[coolfoxykitkat]

They sit down at the counter, close to the corner booth I chose. They’re wearing sweats and a stained tshirt, covered with plain bandaids and gauze. I look at my own wounds which are mostly uncovered except for a particularly nasty gash I slapped a Hello Kitty bandaid on, more for my own amusement than any real functionality.

I can't help but keep glancing over at them, arms crossed on the counter, head resting on top with slumped shoulders, like they had been the one to lose. Yeah, right. There's a small scratch on their cheek they didn't cover up, and when the waitress comes back with my eggs and toast I impulsively reach into my bag and pull out another Hello Kitty bandaid, this one with sparkles.

"Could you pass this on to the person at the counter and tell them they missed a spot?" I ask, brushing my cheek where the scratch is on theirs and handing the waitress a five for her troubles.

Her mouth quirks in amusement and she shrugs. "Sure. Do you want me to grab you some more coffee while I'm at it?" I return her shrug with a smile.

"That'd be great, thanks."

The waitress makes her way to the counter and presents the bandaid to them, brushing her cheek in the same movement I'd made earlier, prompting them to touch their own bloody cheek, and look wildly around the diner.

When our eyes meet, I'm taking a sip of my half empty coffee, smirk on my face. I should have known they wouldn't let sleeping dogs lie, but they had looked so tired, I thought maybe they'd take the gesture in stride or maybe just leave the diner. We've been fighting each other long enough that I should have realized they couldn't take any hit to their pride, no matter how small. Or sparkly.

They practically tip over the stool they were sitting on in their haste to stomp over to me, ratty crocs making a comical sound on the diner linoleum.

"What are you doing here?!" They hiss, hands dramatically slapped on the table.

"Eating eggs and toast. What are you doing here?"

"I-Wha- I don't need to justify myself to you!"

"Ok." Any amusement from sending the bandaid has long since evaporated. I'm just so tired.

They stay there like that, looking confused and irate, and I notice they're still hold the bandaid.

"Here." I reach out to take it from them, but they snatch their hand back.

"You gave it to me!" They say indignantly. Really, they can be so ridiculous sometimes.

"Yeah, and I was gonna help you put it on, dumbass."

"Oh." They seem at a loss for words at that, so I reach out again and this time they let me take the bandaid.

"Lean forward a little." Surprisingly, they do so without arguing with me, and I dip a diner napkin in my glass of water, gently wiping the blood off their face before patting it dry and placing the bandaid over the scratch.

"Thanks." They say quietly. I shrug and nod toward the seat opposite me, and with some hesitation they take a seat in the booth.

The waitress brings their coffee over and a refill for me before leaving us alone again. The awkward silence seems to bother them more than me, as they start fidgeting while watching me eat my eggs.

"You look like you could use a bandaid and some first aid, more than me." They say, after a while.

I point at my own Hello Kitty bandaid placed perpendicular to a nasty gash oozing blood. "I've got a bandaid." They laugh a little at that, though it's short and almost bitter.

"You seem tired." I say. They sigh and rest their head on the table.

"I am." They look up. "Aren't you?"

I take a bite of eggs and shrug.

"You're.... You're not a bad person." They say sadly, almost wistfully. I shrug again. 'Good' and 'Bad' stopped having any meaning to me a long time ago. "So why do you keep doing this?"

"Eating eggs?" I ask, taking another bite, followed by a sip of coffee. They snort and roll their eyes.

"You know what I meant."

"I could ask you the same question."

"We- we don't have to fight. All of the time, I mean, you- you're not ruthless, you don't kill or harm civilians." I stop mid-chew, irritation boiling up.

"You're right. You've killed more people than I have." I snap.

They look away.

I take a bite of toast.

"You're right." They whisper. I shrug again. "I'm a hero- I... I'm supposed to be Good, to do the right thing, and- and I do! I... I try! So hard! But... I mean, you know! How hard my powers are to control sometimes, it's- it's collateral damage. It's unavoidable."

"Who are you trying to convince?" I ask genuinely. This time their the one who shrugs, still not looking at me.

They seem so small, sitting there, across from me, so alone and afraid. I pass them a slice of bacon on a napkin.

"You know, maybe Heroes and Villains have to fight each other, but..." They look up at me. "Right now, here in this diner... We're just a pair of civilians with a difference in politics." They laugh softly, sadly, and we share a look filled with knowing, with loss and anger, with grief and tragedy, and causes we've decided to die for.

"Difference in politics. Ha! That's a way to phrase it."

They take the bacon.

A villain nurses their loss in a quiet diner when an equally tired person enters, and orders a coffee in a very familiar voice.

[luveline]

𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲 | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫  

part one | part two

summary you're a single mom living three trailers down. eddie thinks you're the prettiest girl he's ever seen. now friends, you, eddie and junie take a trip to the city. queue oreos with double the cream, a sock related mishap, a display of strength, storybooks, matching pajamas, a velveteen rabbit and a tray of cupcakes to eat on the drive home [15k]

warnings teen mom!reader, fem!reader, r is junie's birth mother, fluff, hurt/comfort, eddie being a total girl dad (<3), mutual pining, yearning etc, tw for not having much money, general mom struggles :(, slowburn friends to lovers, eddie’s mom implied to have passed away, mention of past falsely presumed self-harm (not graphic, just baby eddie scratching a rash and wayne worrying), hair tourniquet + intense panic

𓆩❤︎𓆪

Eddie doesn't mean to come knocking. He's staring at the ceiling with an open tray of Oreos on his chest, chewing through the boredom of a Monday evening and the pain of an aching back when he thinks of you and Junie. 

Toddlers like cookies, right?

He shoves his socked feet into poorly laced converse and turns out all the lights as he leaves. The door slams shut behind him, a rattling of metal ringing into the crisp night while he takes his steps two at a time. 

He starts up the street to your trailer and slows as your home comes into view. The lights are on, the curtains open. You stand in the middle of the room with your eyes closed, stretching to one side with your arms held high above your head. He can see the moment your back pops, see the tension of the day slip away just slightly. The exposed stretch of your tummy shines in the light.

You say something to Junie. He decides to stop acting like a stalker and bumps up your steps, hesitating at the door with a sinking feeling in his stomach. 

What the fuck was he going to say? Hey, guys, I brought a half-eaten tray of cookies. Um. Because I missed you both? Sorry if that's weird? 

"What kind of loser…" he scathes. He doesn't finish, bringing his hand to the door and knocking with a haphazard explanation waiting on the tip of his tongue. 

You open the door a short few seconds later. You smile wide, wide enough to open the yawning gap in his chest all over again. Tonight when he goes home he'll have to close it like he has to so often lately after seeing you. Pretend his feelings for you – whatever they are – are smaller, less terrifying. 

"Eddie," you say, and the gap stretches with how you say it, fond and warm and breezy. "Hey, where's your jacket? It's too cold to walk over here without one." 

He doesn't have to explain himself at all, as it turns out. You open the door and step aside to let him past. 

He grins at you. "Thought I'd brave the great outdoors without any armour." 

You nod like it isn't all nonsense to you and maybe it isn't, maybe being friends with him is clueing you in to all his fantastical lingo. He likes you more for it either way, especially when you say, "You need a healing potion. It's freezing."  

You're embarrassed at your attempt. Eddie can't believe how cute you are, lost for words and flailing. His chest warms with affection.

Junie saves you both, whizzing down out of the nest of pillows where she'd been buried on the couch and across the room with surprising speed and accuracy, barrelling for his knees. He grins as she wraps herself around them and starts talking. 

It's mostly unintelligible until she says, "Hi! Hi, Eddie!" 

He hugs her back with his hand. "Hi, Junie. Good evening." 

"Good," she manages in return. She's all but mastered good morning and afternoon but evening continues to elude her. 

"What were you watching? Your Muppet Babies?" He looks at the screen to find Kermit, the green frog, singing a song. "Been doing some singing practice for the band?" 

"You want coffee?" you ask. Aforementioned healing potion. "I have decaf." 

"I brought cookies." 

"Warm milk it is," you declare, disappearing behind one of the kitchen cabinets. 

Your bravado makes him laugh. 

He finds his attention stolen once again by your lovely daughter when she complains, glaring up at him fiercely and coveting his hand. He balances the Oreos on your table by the door and offers her both, naked of their usual rings bar one. 

Junie drags him over to her pillows and tries to climb back up. She refuses to let go of his hand, making it an insurmountable feat. Eddie awes at her efforts and helps her back into the nest, hands closing around her small waist and lifting. 

He drops her into the pillows with just enough roughness to garner a laugh. "Sorry, my hands slipped. Hey, what's going on here, junebug? This isn't your usual hangout." 

"I felt bad because she's always on the floor," you call from the kitchen. He can see your hands and your torso through the gap of countertop and cabinets. You pour milk into a pan on the stovetop and tap your fingers against the handle frenetically. He wonders if you're anxious about something. 

Junie whines until Eddie sits next to her. As soon as he's situated she takes his hand again insistently and turns her attention to the television. He rubs the soft, small back of her hand with a less soft thumb and peers down the way at you. 

"She loves the floor,” he says.

"I know," you mumble ruefully. A tad theatric. He must be rubbing off on you. "I had to bribe her into sitting on the couch." 

"Yeah? What's the tab?" 

"A few dozen kisses and all the pillows from my bed." 

"Shame it wasn't half a tray of cookies." 

"I think those might help me out." 

After you've poured the milk into two tall glasses, you admit to him in a smaller voice that you're not sure if Junie likes Oreos. 

"'Cos they're bitter?" he asks. 

Milk in hand, you sit in the free seat next to Eddie and try not to sound as embarrassed as he knows you're feeling when you say, "She's never had them." 

"I'll bring chocolate chip next time." 

You shake your head vehemently. "You don't have to bring anything, ever." 

"I like sugar." 

You smile at him like you know he's trying to make you feel better, a touch shame-faced. He smiles at you in return and hopes it shows how much it doesn't matter – bringing snacks with him when he visits is hardly a generosity. You're friends. 

He keeps trying to have that conversation with you, about sharing and money and all that terrible, embarrassing hardship that isn't embarrassing whatsoever but the words taste like chalk in his mouth.

Instead, he offers the hand that hasn't been stolen by Junie to you for a glass of milk. "One of those for me?" 

You pass it to him. 

"Why'd you feel bad? You're not forcing her," he says as he takes a sip. 

"You don't think it looks cruel?" 

"No way. She's one of the happiest babies I've ever met, who cares if she lies on the floor?" 

"How many babies do you know?" 

"One." 

You're laughing when you say, "I don't know. I think it's a habit. But we have a couch, so she should sit on it." 

Eddie retrieves the Oreos. Junie watches curiously as he peels open the tray, four rows, two empty and two full of black and white cookies. 

He takes one and passes it to you without looking at you. Eye contact gives you the opportunity to reject it. 

When he's heard the soft crunch of your first bite, glass of milk between his knees, Eddie holds an oreo up purposefully and twists. "See, Junie?"

He licks a big stripe over the vanilla cream. The cream spreads edge to edge as he pushes both sides back together. Softened by a generous dip in milk, he eats the cookie in one vagabond bite. 

"You wanna try?" he asks when he's done. 

Big hands over her small ones, Eddie shows her how to twist an Oreo open. She brings the cookie with the least of the cream to her mouth and bites it. Her pout wobbles in mild disgust. Eddie tries not to laugh. 

She has to like Oreos. They're a staple. 

"Let me show you," he says gently, taking the cream heavy side out of her hands. Dark crumbs stain his fingers as he holds it up to her face. "You gotta lick it." 

She doesn't want to, evidenced by her wrinkled nose and untrusting gaze. 

"You'll have to do it for her," he tells you gravely. 

Moving to kneel in front of him, you take the oreo out of his hands and lick it before stealing back the half of the cookie Junie had been munching on and squishing them back together. You dunk her sandwich in milk and press it to her lips until she deigns to take a small bite. 

"Yummy?" you ask.

She takes the cookie back, a mess of dark black mush collecting at the corners of her mouth as she eats it.

You gaze up at him from the floor. Your eyes look damn pretty, more so when he offers the tray to you, your smile a beacon. "I haven't had Oreos since I was a kid," you say excitedly.

"Do they taste like you remember?" 

You rest your hand on his knee and lean in. "They need more of the filling," you say secretively. 

"Yeah?" Eddie's in motion, twisting one oreo apart and then another. He takes the halves with the most cream and pushes them together. 

One oreo, twice the cream.

You giggle as he passes it to you. "Oh my god." You're giddy, arm heavy on his thigh. 

You eat it like it's something crazy expensive, all smiley and indulgent. You look so pleased that he immediately starts to make you another. 

"Eddie," you protest, covering your mouth, "don't, don't waste them." 

"I won’t waste them. I like the cookie more than the cream,” he lies. 

"Oh." 

You finish your oreo. Eddie can’t find it in himself to be modest about it; you’re smiling and it’s his doing and that fills him with pleasure. 

He watches you mistreat his jeans as you chew the second, your fingers pulling distractedly at the rips. You tuck your hand underneath, white threads tensing over your knuckles and fingerprints brushing over his kneecap, your entire face cringing as a thread snaps from the pressure. 

Eddie looks away quickly. He can feel your eyes on him and has to bite back a smile as you assess if you’ve been caught. 

You could ruin them completely for all he cares. 

Junie makes happy noises beside him. She’s realised the middle of the Oreo is the sweetest and has split one open in her hands. A terrible mess ensues, cocoa powder fingerprints smattered over the pillows she’s buried in and vanilla cream marring her nose in a sticky line.

“Could you make any more of a mess for your poor mom?” he asks. The rhetoric is lost on her; she says something cheerful and holds her hand out for another cookie. 

Her face — expectant, small, cute, all of it evokes an uncontrollable urge to do whatever it is she wants him to do. 

“Is that, like, a kid thing?” he asks. 

You pull your fingertips away from his skin and cock your head. “What?”

He splits an oreo and offers Junie the cream-heavy half, clarifying through a mouthful of dark cookie, “Following her every command.”

You sit at full height. He instantly misses the heat of your front to his knees, the way you’d draped yourself over him familiarly, and is wondering how he might begin to convince you to do so again as you think it over. 

“I don’t know. Maybe. It might just be a Junie thing, but I guess that’s immature to think. S’pose it’s hormones or something. Like when cats meow.”

He giggles at you. Hormones? Cats?

“What?” you ask, half defensive, half sheepish. 

“I just- I love it when you talk like that.”

“Like what?” 

He shrugs and takes another pull of milk to think of a way to say, Well, when you’re tired you get nonsensical, and it’s charming how confident you are but hard to follow without offending you. Is there a way to say that without offending you? Or worse, without revealing every wretched feeling he has for you?

“I sounded pretty stupid,” you summarise. 

“No! Never. I love that you think like that. That you’d think about cats meowing.”

“They do it to manipulate us,” you explain. 

He can almost see the heat of an embarrassed flush radiating off of your cheeks, the press of your lips so endearing he almost leans forward to feel it. He can imagine it, his thumb over your mouth, the pad pulling down your bottom lip. 

There’s an arrogance in thinking you’d let him. 

“Jungle cats, tigers and lions and stuff, they don’t meow,” and you’re still going! He has to cover his mouth with his hand to stop from bursting. “Because they don’t need to. They have no idea what a baby sounds like, and they don’t need us to take care of them so they’ve never learned how to meow. Babies are like that. We hear them crying and we want it to stop.” You have a smile on your face that says, I don’t know if what I’m saying is true, but I’m gonna pretend it is. Pretend with me?

Eddie’s all about pretending. “Cats are master manipulators,” he eggs you on, "but you realise not everyone wants babies to stop the way you do? Some people just don’t like babies.” 

“That’s okay. More babies for me.” You lean out to tap his forehead. “Touch wood.”

“What?” he asks. 

“Touch wood,” you repeat. “I don’t actually want more babies right now, don’t wanna jinx myself by saying it, so I had to touch wood. You don’t have that superstition?”

“Are you saying my head is made of wood?” 

Your sudden laugh is stunning; he can’t bring himself to be offended. 

When Junie's had more Oreos than she should've and the milk's all gone Eddie stands up before you can do it yourself and takes the empty glasses with him, putting them on the kitchen counter with a click. 

He grabs an almost empty pack of wet wipes off of the top of the refrigerator and sits down next to Junie, talking fast in hopes of distracting her.

"I got a call last night," he begins, pulling a wet wipe from the pack and taking Junie's wrist into his hand. He doesn't use the wipe at first, tryimg to convince her that this is all affection. "The phone went ring ring," he rolls the sound around, "and I was thinking, who the heck is calling me so late?" 

He plays up his outrage but keeps a huge smile in place as he works his thumb into Junie's palm, tickling in circles. 

"So I answer the phone, and I say, who is this? And you know who it is?" 

Junie waits, looking like she might be close to laughing. And he's just getting started. 

Eddie takes a deep breath. "Hi-ho, Kermit the Frog here! Is this Junie on the other end?" 

What his impression lacks in accuracy it makes up in enthusiasm. 

Her little mouth opens. He wipes the corners with the wet wipe and then her chin. "So I said, no, Mr. Frog, I'm Junie's neighbour. I'm Eddie.

"Kermit said, you can call me Kermit, thank you very much. Mr. Frog was my father." 

You snort beside him. He tries not to look at you because he knows your happy face will stop him in his tracks, your laughter enough to make him smile and break character.

He squares his expression and begins again. "I need to talk to Juniper, it's very important." He wipes down her sticky hands, her stained fingers and palms, worse than smug when she doesn't complain and pull them away. "I said, I'm sorry Mr. Kermit but I can't put her on, she's all safe and snug in bed with her mom. And Kermit said, oh, okay. Well, please tell Junie this." 

Junie's looking up at him, surprised, very pleased, practically wiggling in her seat. She's lovely. Just like her mom. 

He doesn't want to do the voice for this part, struck with a sudden sense of awe. "She is… the smartest, most prettiest, loving little girl in the whole world." 

Eddie beams at her and drops her damp hands. When he impersonates Kermit this time, he's trying as hard as he can. "I'd only like her more if she were green!" 

-

You're clinging to sanity. 

It's Wednesday, it's washing day, and you haven't managed a single load of clothes since you got home because Junie won't stop crying. This isn't new; babies cry constantly and toddlers aren't much different. But, it's been three hours. She's too old for colic. 

Junie has screamed, she's sobbed, she's slapped her tiny hands into your chest. You know she doesn't mean to hurt you, she's just communicating her panic. That doesn't stop the growing distress. 

You're terrified. 

You've found yourself in tears, too. 

"Just tell me, baby," you plead. 

It's useless. She screams so loud her voice cracks, and you decide that nows the time. You have to go to the hospital. 

You don't think you can let her go long enough to strap her into her car seat. Immediately, you think of Eddie. You don't even lock the door. The small walk to his house feels a block long.

He must hear her crying as you approach because the door swings open just as you mount the first step. You backtrack. 

"I'm really sorry," you say quickly, knowing this isn't something he ever signed up for. "I don't know what to do, she won't stop and I think there's something wrong." Your voice wobbles.

There's a huge flash of something akin to the panic you're feeling over his face but he pushes it away, descending the steps two at a time. His hand immediately comes up to your shoulder, fingers curled into your shirt. 

"Chill out," he says, more stern than you've ever heard him. It’s surreal to see him turn like that. Almost like he’s become one of his characters, the voices he does for Junie’s story books. 

You take a ragged breath. 

"I'm serious. You need to calm down. You understand?" 

Junie gives a blistering shout and your face crumples. "Eddie," you say. 

"Can I hold her?" he asks, softer. 

You can see in his face that he isn't sure, that he's out of his depth, but you're so desperate for a life raft that you nod and squeeze your eyes closed, passing her into his waiting arms. Everytime she cries – every wicked intake of air and every subsequent bellowing sob makes your chest ache. You have a splitting headache. Honestly, you're worried you might fall over. 

"How long has she been crying?" he asks, looking over her face and shoulders with a perplexed frown. 

"Hours. At first I thought she was tired or- or hungry but I've tried everything, Eddie, everything." 

"She was like this when you picked her up?" 

You nod. 

He pats her back, the other hand rubbing down one of her legs soothingly. "Did she hurt herself?" He's looking at you without an ounce of judgement.

"Not- not that I know of." You'd looked under her shirt and trousers already. She doesn't have a single bruise. 

He starts to walk back towards your home. You don't follow at first and he reaches out to grab your arm, pulling you along as he says, "Come on, sweetheart. We'll go down to Hawkins general, yeah? Just to be safe." 

"Yeah." 

Junie screams. "It's okay, sweetheart," Eddie says, again and again and again. He doesn't hesitate, his voice velveteen. 

His hand stays on your arm until you're by the car. He's never done a car seat before and you can tell: he tucks her into it with infinite care but can't work out how to do the buckles. You laugh wetly and then feel very guilty. wiping your face with one hand before ducking down to do them yourself. Junie glares at you as you do, still very much crying and now incensed at being strapped in. 

You stand back to take her in and push your thumbs across her wet cheeks and under her snotty nose uselessly, feeling so sorry for her, so guilty. Why can't you work out what's wrong? Why can't you fix it? 

Eddie stands by your side, waiting.

“You got it,” he encourages as you pull back. "You're okay."

You smile weakly and then narrow your eyes, the two of you seeing it at the same time – Junie reaching desperately for her sock. 

You peel it off with shaking hands and feel another hot shock of tears. There, around one of her toes, is a tourniquet. The skin is swollen but looks unbroken, darkened by blood 

You smile because Oh my god, this is what's wrong, and then you panic twice as much as you had before, because Oh my god, her tiny toe. 

"Eddie, I need- I need something. I need a- a nail scissors or-" You drag your hands down your face, in the thick of it. Adrenaline or cortisol or something must race through your veins, your hands shaking with it.

Eddie pulls you back by the hem of your shirt. "We can't cut it away. You'll never get the blade under that- What is that? A hair?" 

"Yeah. A hair." 

A lightbulb moment. You brush past him and almost fall up the steps back into your trailer. 

"Stay there," you say without any explanation. 

You step over the mess you'd left behind and barrel into the bathroom, clipping your shoulder on the bathroom door and slamming onto your knees. 

You're lucky you have it, a tiny pot of hair removal cream in an old makeup bag under the sink. Resisting the urge to kiss the lid, you rush back out to the car where Eddie holds one of Junie's hands in his. He looks an impossible mixture of worried and relieved when you reappear. 

You elbow digs into his chest as you lean over, opening the cream and smearing a line over Junie's swollen toe. She whimpers and shouts and tries desperately to get out of the carseat and, to your devastation, away from you.

"What is that?" Eddie asks from behind you.

"A hair remover." 

You wipe the delapitor clumsily into your only good jeans so you can take both of Junie's arms into your hands. She doesn't want to be touched but you need to be holding her, at least a little bit. 

"How long does it take?"

"I'm not sure… Not long. If it doesn't work we'll still have to go to the hospital." 

Eddie pushes his hands into the top of your back in answer, his fingers curling either side of your neck like he might give you a massage. You shudder as he pulls you against him, as his fingers trace an invisible pattern.

Junie looks up at you both. Her wounded expression loosens. Maybe she's realised that you've figured out her problem, maybe she's just glad to be looked at. Either way, she subdues. 

The hair removal cream's acrid smell tickles your stuffed up nose. You sniffle and Eddie's fingers work into your neck lightly, a silent and unwavering It's okay.

You don't see the hair snap so much as you see the pressure wean. You smother a sob, your relief palpable as you pull your shirt sleeve down to cover your hand and wipe it away. Junie shrieks. 

You take the hair between your nails and pull.

"Oh my god," you say, holding it up between you. 

Everything feels a little bit hazy after that. Eddie rubs your shoulders placatingly before encouraging you away from the door so he can unclip Junie and pull her out of her car seat. He guides you away from the car and back into your trailer, over the mess and into the kitchen. 

You sit heavily in a battered kitchen chair. Eddie stands in front of you, Junie on his hip and a frown warping his pretty features. She grizzles, less when he sets her down in your lap carefully. 

"Is that okay?" he asks softly. Then, when you nod, "Are you okay? You look like you're gonna pass out." 

"I don't feel well." 

"No, I bet you don't. Take it easy."  

You pull Junie's leg up to examine her foot. Her toes are covered in hair remover still. "Could you get me the baby wipes, please?" 

"Sure can. It'll cost you, though." His joke falls a little flat. You try to smile anyhow, your little huff forcing a last tear. You blink until it's gone, aggravated with yourself. 

After all, her toe looks better. Sore, still swollen, but better. Though you could just be seeing what you want to see. 

Eddie tries to pass you the baby wipes but your hands are shaking too badly to take them. Without a word he opens the pack, kneeling on the floor in front of you to wipe down her foot tenderly. His eyebrows pinch together when she whimpers, and he murmurs a sorry, "I know, I know." 

You're trying very hard to calm down.

"All done," he tells her, parentese in play. "You are so brave, junebug. You're the bravest little girl I've ever met. That's why me and your mom decided you were Juniper the Brave, and you proved us both right." 

He taps the tip of a ring-heavy finger under her chin. You watch from over her shoulder. "Really brave. You did a good job, the best job ever," he praises, tilting his head to catch your eye as he says it. 

You smile at him the best that you can. He holds your gaze for a weighted second and then drops it back to Junie. "Do you feel better?" he asks.

She doesn't answer, only tips her head against your chest. 

Eddie pulls off her remaining sock and waves it at her. "Don't need this." 

"Do you think she'll throw up if I make her some dinner?" you ask, the kind of question you don't usually get to ask someone else. A luxury to defer judgement.

"Maybe. Does it matter?" 

"I don't want to clean up puke," you say pathetically. 

Eddie softens. "I'll clean it up if she pukes. Don't worry about it." 

You don't have to, you want to say. Of course he doesn't have to. 

"Thank you," you say instead, feeling like you could burst into an entirely fresh wave of tears. 

Again, he looks up at you. His smile fades from a cheesy exuberance to something sweeter, a melty-warm thing that has your breath catching. 

"I'm really sorry for just showing up like that," you say tentatively, flushed with heat as you realise what you've done.  

"Don't be." 

"No, because she's- I know you never-" She's mine alone. You never signed up for this. You can't make yourself say it, distracted by his ever-growing smile. "I should've handled it on my own." 

"Your mom really doesn't understand how much I like her," he tells Junie humorously, wiggling his eyebrows at her. "She doesn't have a clue. How much I like you," he adds, hand on your thigh, his finger stroking a line down the length of her leg.

"You didn't have to-" You try, stopping again as he huffs out of the side of his mouth. 

His hand closes around your thigh. You can feel the heat of each of his fingers, the bulk of every heavy ring. 

"It's okay. I promise," he says seriously.

"I got so freaked out, I just…"  You give up. Whatever. He knows what you're trying to say. Hopefully.

Eddie leans forward to kiss your knee. His eyes close, his fingers tightening almost imperceptibly over your thigh. 

You blink to yourself in a vain attempt at processing what's just happened when he asks, "Do you still feel sick?"

"No.” Your chest burns.

"In that case, I'll make dinner. A feast." 

Things start to feel better. Details sink in. Your heart slows. What was only Eddie behind the stovetop becomes his dark hair scraped up and wrapped in a hair tie, his sweatpants and unlaced shoes, his white t-shirt with sharpie writing all over. Sounds filter in; the spoon scraping the bottom of the saucepan and his frenetic humming, the sound of his rubber-bottomed cons squeaking over linoleum. 

Junie doesn't cry so much as whine. You press kisses that are more for you than her into her hair and on her forehead, jogging your knee. She's fine. She's okay, and she's here in your lap, and there's nothing to panic over now. 

You try to push away the lingering worry. In the moment, a million thoughts had coalesced into only one. What if she's dying? Meningitis, an aneurysm, cancer. Anything. And now those thoughts fall away, leaving behind only the sharp smell of the hair remover and the salty stick of tears. 

"Do you think I have time to give her a shower before dinner?" you ask softly, clearing your throat for what feels like the twentieth time today. 

"You got it. I'll simmer. You could have one, too, if you want." 

"Do I look that bad?" 

"Worse." He grins at your expression. "I'm kidding. You look beautiful as always, sweetheart."

You carry Junie into the bathroom. There's no tub and she's too big for the kitchen sink, so a shower it is. You stand her up under warm spray and turn her back so the spray misses her eyes. She smiles at the warm water running down her back. The relief to see her happy can't be understated. You hop in at the same time and clean her off, wash her hair, and bedeck her tiny features in big big kisses.

Wrapped in her baby towel – a pink poncho type thing with a hood – you walk her to the bedroom and dry her off as fast as you can. 

"Which ones?" you ask, holding up two pairs of pajamas. 

Junie points at the pink shirt and bottoms printed in bright red strawberries with light green tops, letting you dress her and plonk her at the end of the bed without any fuss. 

"No socks for you," you say lightly, sitting beside her in your towel. 

"No socks," she agrees. 

Even though Eddie's been good to you, you can't help wishing that he wasn't here. What you want more than anything in that second is for Junie to be asleep and for your head to be wedged firmly under your pillow, the sheets to your shoulders, dead to the world. 

Not truly dead, of course. But a minute of silence. 

Junie doesn't seem to know what to do with herself, sitting in companionable silence and stillness with you. Her head falls onto your arm. 

"Are you tired?" you ask quietly, too exhausted for bubbly talk. 

She sighs. You sigh too. 

Eddie hums from the kitchen. 

He kissed my knee.

You think you might have imagined it, if you're honest. It could've been anything against your stockings, the brush off his palm or the back of a warm knuckle, but you'd seen it. His lips, his face turned toward your thigh.

"I think he likes me," you tell Junie. 

She doesn't say anything. When you look down at her she's already looking up, eyes wide with confusion. 

"He kissed me," you whisper, leaning down. "I don't know about you, junebug, but I only kiss the people I care about. For a long time, that's been a really short list." You bump your nose against hers. 

You've just finished getting into your own pajamas when Eddie calls out, "Girls? I know ladies like yourselves need longer to get ready but the mac and cheese is acting weird." 

"Weird?" you mumble, hooking your hands under Junie's armpits. You'd let her walk if you weren't worried for her foot. 

Eddie has created a working man's feast, three identical plates heaping with food. Hills of mac and cheese topped with bacon bits take up half of each plate, fried broccoli and collard greens the other. They're golden, almost red with spices. 

"You can cook," you say, surprised. 

"Don't sound so shocked," he says defensively. He can only hold his facade for a moment, deflating. "I really can’t. I tried to copy what you do, I've seen it enough times…" He shrugs and flops down into his usual chair. "Don't tell me if it's gross." 

"I doubt it's gross." 

You can't be bothered for the high chair. Junie looks like she might be too tired to move so you take the chance and sit her between you and Eddie behind the smaller portion (though using small at all feels like a lie, he's made a lot of food). She can barely see over the table.

"Did you use two boxes?" you ask, picking up Junie's spoon. 

It's all the perfect temperature for a baby, maybe a little cold for an adult. You're so happy to have somebody else cook for you that you'd die before you complained. 

He taps his nose. You pass Junie her spoon.

"What do you mean?" You tap your own nose in imitation. "I'll know when I look." 

"So don't look. Eat." 

You eat. Without asking him too – because you wouldn’t, you never do – he starts to feed Junie.

He might be the nicest boy on this whole damn planet. You look at him thoughtfully. How come we always end up here? At the kitchen table?

He looks right. Too right. He looks like he’s meant to be here, smiling and talking to your baby in hushed, fond tones, airplaning roasted broccoli towards her mouth. 

-

“You’ll stay to watch a movie?” you ask later, trying to hide how lethargic you are with your hands deep in dishwater. 

Eddie wipes a fleck of water off of your cheek with a rag. "Duh." 

On the couch, Eddie sneaks a glance at you out of the corner of his eye. You’re pretending to watch the TV and doing a bad job, your attention stolen over and over by Junie where she sleeps in your lap. Your hand rubs over her small, distended tummy, the other holding her foot carefully. You keep glancing at her toe, much less swollen now and with a healthier complexion, though a cruel line remains from where the hair had cut into her skin. 

You don't touch it, only looking. He worries as a wrinkle appears between your eyebrows. 

Listening intently as he is, he can hear the hitch in your breath. Eddie doesn’t want you to cry again — the first time had been awful enough. Your face covered in tears, coming fast and panicked. It was like you’d hardly noticed you were crying. You’d been so scared that Eddie, despite knowing close to nothing about babies or how to make them feel better, had clung to his calm. He’d stomped down every flicker of panic that had surged and tried his damn best to keep a level head. 

Now, with your sad face and the crisis averted, Eddie feels a pang of terror. Just one. You are completely out of your element, Munson. 

You’re definitely the kind of friends now that can sit on the couch together and not care too much about personal space. Eddie uses this to his advantage and spreads his legs just enough to brush his thigh against yours. You look at him and hide your lingering upset with a small smile. It’s a far cry from the genuine happy grin he’s become familiar with, but you're still beautiful. 

Eddie shuffles across the couch toward you until he can push his hand under your arm. He pulls it to his chest, beware of your tenuously sleeping daughter, and hugs it. 

“I was thinking,” he starts casually, looking down at you. 

Your eyes crease with a playful smile. “Oh yeah?” Like you can’t believe it.

“Yeah, I was,” he says, quiet so as not to wake Junie but extremely passionate. “What’s that supposed to mean, sweetheart?”

“Nothing." You laugh under your breath.

He glares, faux-offended. Any real offense is swallowed instantly by the sound of your laugh.

“Hm. Anyway, I was thinking,” he begins again, hand running down your arm in what he hopes is a soothing gesture, “that I’d head into the city this weekend. Go to the bookstore ‘n’ the big goodwill by the bus station. I was hoping you’d wanna come with me.” Is he pushing his luck? Maybe. 

You look like you want to say yes, but, “Eddie, I don’t really have the money.”

“I’d pay.” He tries to sell it before you can protest. “I’m asking you to come. Stealing your Sunday. We’d leave early, get breakfast on the way. I don't want to go alone.” I want your company. 

He tries not to show how terrified he is that you’ll say no. 

“I can’t- I couldn’t let you pay for us,” you say, eyes on his chest. 

“Can I tell you something?” You nod. “It would make me… really happy if you did.”

He doesn’t know how to explain it. He doesn’t think there’s a way to tell you that won’t involve unveiling his new and shiny feelings for you, feelings that don’t seem to want to slow, or abate, or moderate themselves. Honestly, he doesn’t want them to. 

He wants you to be happy. He wants to take care of you.

It's embarrassing in its intensity. 

You reach over Junie to wrap your hand around his bicep, though you still don’t look like you’re going to say yes. 

He leans in close, tracing the details of your face with a greedy kind of curiosity. “You wouldn’t let me give you anything for the haircut,” he says. “It’s the same, you know? Doing things for the people you care about." 

He says it like the idiot he is, all rough and insincere, like caring about people is dumb. You smile anyways and finally, finally, give him a nod. So small it’s near imperceptible. 

“If you’re sure,” you say. 

“Positive.”

-

Eddie looks good behind the wheel of your car. The wind whips at his hair, curls that had been neat and pretty only an hour ago now starting to frizz. You think the chaos of it suits him. 

He’s singing along to the radio and it’s a song you don’t know. You don’t think Junie knows it either, but she’s signing it like she does, hands flailing in the air and Mr. Bear bouncing in her lap with the force of her dancing. Eddie looks at her in the rear view mirror, beaming brilliantly. 

“Yeah, sing it, junebug!" he encourages. Her voice peaks. 

You laugh and stretch your hands out in your lap, knuckles brushing the sandwiches you’d packed. You’d let Eddie pay for gas, you might even let him buy Junie a book from the bookstore if he’s feeling generous, but you’re really trying to keep his expenses low. Hence, sandwiches. Even now, the idea of him spending money on you makes you feel guilty. 

Deep down – deep, deep down – you want him to. You’re hoping he’ll pick up a book for you, and that fills you with so much shame you have to look away from him, your face to the window. The highway blurs past, the early morning sun lighting the blacktop and bouncing between cars of all kinds coming into the city for a Sunday outing. 

Eddie turns down the radio a tiny bit and reaches across the seat to squeeze your shoulder. “You alright?” he asks without looking at you. 

You tip your head toward his hand. His rings bite into your cheek. 

You’re in the car on a nice day with a nice boy and your pretty baby listening to the radio, the sun at your side and the breeze kissing your warm skin. 

You’d even managed to find a nice shirt to wear. Today is a good day. You won't weigh it down with silly feelings. 

“I’m great.”

He gives you that smile like he doesn’t believe you and his eyes go back to the road. “Can a guy get another sandwich or does he have to beg?” 

You imagine what it might be like to lean over and kiss his cheek. He deserves a good kiss, you think, and then wince as heat blooms from your chest up to your cheeks. You can’t hold in a pleased smile as you click open the Tupperware. 

“Do you want PB&J or bacon and lettuce?” The tomatoes have already been accosted by a ravenous Junie. 

“I’ll have half of whatever you’re having.”

You weren’t going to have one, and you both know that. You offer him half the PB&J and he takes it, eyes flitting between you and the road. You take a showful bite to release him. He gives you a grateful smile in turn. 

Chewing, you take half of the bacon and lettuce sandwich into your hands and pull it apart. You divide the contents and tuck half into one slice to make a quarter sandwich before leaning over the seats to offer it to Junie where she waits in her car seat. She accepts it hungrily. 

One-handed, Eddie pulls the car off of the highway. “There’s a parking garage somewhere around here,” he tells you.

Once he's found it he jumps out to go pay. You turn in your seat and smile at Junie. She's mauling her sandwich, face smeared in butter. 

"Are you ready for some fun?" you ask. 

She looks at you curiously. 

You try again, really smiling. "Are you excited? We're gonna go find a book, something fun like Red Cat, Blue Cat, and we're gonna see the stores and the people and maybe mommy can get you a new teddy." 

A spark of something. She gets happy when you're happy and today's no exception, her tiny features soon plucked up with joy. When you round the car and open her door to wipe down her greasy fingers and face she barely cares, and she receives your loving kisses with a big smile. 

Eddie returns with the parking ticket and slides it onto the dashboard. You leave Junie's door open now he's back to pop the trunk and unfold her stroller. The sound echoes through the parking garage and the sun struggles to find a way in, your arms wracked with goosebumps.

"Hey, junebug," you hear Eddie murmuring. 

He messes with the buckles on her car seat until they pop open, his triumphant laugh almost as pretty as his face. Junie's is prettier, your daughter laughing up a storm as Eddie scoops her up and sits her on his hip. 

He looks like he had when you first met but with ten times the confidence in holding her and a clear affection. Her hands are in his hair like usual, petting and pulling gently. 

"Brush out the tangles for me," he tells her seriously, bumping the door shut. 

She hums like she's agreed to his task and continues her exploring. 

You hang the baby bag over the stroller's handlebar and Eddie sits her in the padded chair. 

"Junie, have I told you how pretty you look today?" he asks, pulling the straps over her shoulders and from between her legs. He uses parentese like you would, distracting her as he locks her in. When the lock click, he plays affectionately with her hair. "You're like a princess. Your mom has talented hands, huh? And a good eye." 

Pleasure from his compliment drips in thick and fast. You bite back a smile and squeeze the clean baby socks in your hands, waiting for him to stand so you can fight them onto Junie’s feet. Ever since her ordeal you’ve been waiting as long as you can before putting on socks and shoes. The first thing you do when you pick her up from daycare is take them off. 

If Eddie thinks you’re overzealous in your fretting he hasn't said anything. He holds his hand out for the socks and you give them to him, nonplussed though you shouldn’t be as he bunches them up and pushes them over her wiggling feet with patience and bemusement. 

“Stay still… Do you want frostbite? Or gangrene?” he asks her.

“Eddie.”

“Sorry." He looks at you guiltily. “In my defense, she doesn’t know what gangrene is.”

“It’s weird, though. To hear you say it like it’s a good thing. S’creepy.”

He squeezes the sole of one of her small feet and stands, much too close to you as he whispers cheerily, “Gangrene. Septicemia. Pneumonia.”

You laugh and push him away from you. “Shut up.”

“You first. Where’re her shoes?” 

You procure them with a smug smile. “You’ll never get them on.”

His fingers brush yours as he takes them, his eyes blazing at the challenge. 

-

“Will you sulk all day?” Eddie asks you.

The sulking is for show. You frown like you’re really angry and tighten your grip on the stroller, the wind ruffling your clothes. After a moment the facade falls away and you smile at him, unable to hide your reluctant affection any longer. “How did you get her to sit still like that? You vex me.” Said with equal parts envy and pride. 

“I vex you,” he says, voice coloured by good humour. 

He’s fallen into step beside you, your jacket tied around his waist. 

You should bring your jacket. In case you get cold, he’d said. 

I don’t want to carry it, you’d said. 

Don’t patronise me.

You glance over the top of the stroller to make sure Junie’s blanket is still in place. She’s quiet. You’ve decided that she’s in shock to be somewhere that isn’t your home or the daycare. 

“Yeah, you vex me. Infuriate me. I’ve been a mom for two years and I can’t get her shoes on without a fight, and you’ve been-“ You stop dead, stutter, and quickly adjust what you'd been saying like it has been a slip up of the tongue rather than a thought you shouldn't entertain.  “You’ve known her for what, three months? And-“

“Four months,” he corrects, sounding much too proud. 

“Four months,” you amend. “And you can do all this stuff that took me years to work out.” You’re a little bit vexed for real. 

He nods like he’s considering what you’ve said before tipping his head. “But…”

You wait. He doesn’t further his point. “But what?”

“Well.” Eddie brushes something off of your arm. “I guess I have a great teacher, right?” His voice hikes up high and he steamrolls, “I just copy you. You didn’t really get to copy anyone.”

You feel something melty hot in your chest, another affection for Eddie to add to a growing list. “Oh.”

He takes your shoulder into his hand and you draw to a pause, his other hand pointing off into the distance. “There’s the bookstore.”

You follow his finger. Across a landscape of cobblestone, situated firmly between a Domino’s pizza place and a cafe with a peppering of metal wrought tables stands Morgan’s Books. To your surprise, it’s a glass-fronted building with a big clean sign made up of red, yellow, and blue. It's a children's bookstore. 

Eddie has obviously tricked you. You turn to glare at him and find him very close. He doesn’t shy away and you try not to in return. You try, but something about his pretty mouth so close sends shocks like pins and needles to your hands and you have to keep walking lest you embarrass yourself. His hand falls from your shoulder and trails down your back. You swear you can feel even the last millimetre of his fingertip before it falls away. 

You get a good look at the landscape ahead and your eyes narrow. Eddie almost bumps into you when you stop abruptly. 

“What?” he asks. 

"There’s, like, a thousand steps.”

“Gross hyperbole," he argues. A gap of quiet furthers your point; while you had been exaggerating, there are a lot of steps, and he needs time to take them all in.

“Is there a way around?”

“Don’t be dumb, sweetheart. You’ll grab June and I’ll carry the stroller.”

“It’s really heavy. Heavier than it looks.”

He grins like a fiend. “I’m strong.”

Junie’s more than happy to be released, less when you take her into your arms and won’t put her down. You help Eddie snap the stroller back up, indicating which lever to pull with the rubber toe of your converse. He kneels down to guide it into place and looks up at you swiftly afterward, self-satisfied and much too happy considering the task afoot. 

“Maybe we should find another way.”

“Y/N,” he says, like your name is inherently funny, like a joke rolled around over his tongue, “I’m starting to get offended.”

You blow air out of the side of your mouth. 

Eddie slugs the stroller under one arm and holds it tight with the other, giving you a very determined smile. “Ready?”

You balance the baby bag over one shoulder and start on the stairs. Junie's heavy but she’s a heavy you’ve grown used to, and she doesn’t complain enough to warrant any stress. 

You’re impressed when Eddie takes each step at your pace and doesn’t break a sweat. “I thought you were a bus boy. What do you bus? Weights?” you ask incredulously.

He laughs. “I don’t bus weights, but amps are heavy, and I’m not a big shot. I don’t have any roadies to carry them for me.”

You feel terrible then for forgettting. Right. He plays music, you think. You’ve never once seen him play any music, on stage or at home. You’ve seen him play guitar over Junie’s leg to tickle her and tap out a rhythm when he’s heating up desserts in your kitchen, but you’ve never seen him play guitar for real. 

“Is that going okay?” you ask, ignoring the small burn beginning to grow in your arms. 

“Bussing? Sure. Why’d you ask?”

“Not bussing, music. I never ask- I’ve never asked you how it’s going.” 

Eddie winces as the stroller starts to open and pulls it tighter under his arm. It takes him a few seconds to calibrate what you’ve said, and he’s quickly reassuring. “What? Why would you worry about that? You have enough to think about without adding my moonlighting at the Hideout.” He says the Hideout like it’s something to be looked down on. You almost trip up a step and Eddie can’t do anything but watch. “Careful," he begs. 

You keep your eyes on your footing until you’re at the very top, worried you'll fall flat on your face and get Junie hurt.. Eddie comes up two behind you and puts the stroller down, wiping his hands together dramatically. 

“Conquered. Great job, team. Especially you,” he says, poking Junie’s cheek. 

She puts her arms out, vying for his attention now she’s had a taste. He raises his eyebrows at her and offers his arms. You hand her over eagerly, arms aching. You can’t imagine what his feel like. 

“I care about it,” you say firmly. It rather than you, but it rings the same. “I want to know, Eddie, I swear. I’m sorry for not asking.”

He looks up from where he’d been making playful faces at Junie to stare at you. It’s not a mean stare, but it unnerves you all the same. 

She pushes a hand into his hair like she always does and starts to try and pull her fingers through it. It’s knottier than usual because of the wind, and she struggles to make sense of it. His eyes fall to her tugging. 

“Sweetheart,” he says slowly. You know it’s meant for you, even if he’s not looking at you. "If there was something worth telling you, I would’ve told you. I don't doubt that you care.”

You don’t feel better. “No, ‘cos-”

“Why are you so upset?” he asks genuinely. 

You hadn’t realised your face revealed the extent of it. “Because we’re friends. You’re the- the best friend I’ve ever had.”

He smiles, sudden and wide. “I’m your best friend?”

“Like we’re twelve?” you deflect. 

“Yeah, like we’re twelve.”

You ignore him and try to cool down. A hot flush attacks your skin as you stretch out the stroller and click the supports back into place, shucking off your baby bag to hang over the handlebar with a relieved sigh. 

Eddie moves Junie to one side. You anticipate his touch before it happens, his free arm behind your back and pulling you to him. “We’re totally best friends. I’m your best friend,” he says smugly, hand curling around your shoulder. It’s a good hug, friendly and warm and heart-racingly close; you can feel his chest on your back, the curve of a pec through thin fabric. 

You turn toward him indulgently but keep your head down. It’s so nice to be hugged that you can’t make yourself move away.

He rubs the top of your arm, the bump of his rings biting into your skin. “You don’t deny it?”

“No. I don’t deny it.”

“Hear that, June?” Again, he calls her June. Not Junie or junebug, June. You like the way he says it. “I’m your mom's best friend. I win.”

You nod happily, warm under his touch.

Wait. “What?”

“She likes me more,” he teases her childishly. 

“Eddie!”

“What? Am I wrong?” He leans away from you and feigns confusion. 

“Yes! Of course you’re wrong! That’s my baby. Give her to me right now." You join in on his melodramatics, grinning even as you continue, “How could you say that? Sicko." 

“That got frosty quickly,” he grumbles, holding her away from you. 

You move in to plaster Junie in kisses. Not apology kisses because you didn’t say anything wrong, but kisses all the same. 

“Can I get in on one of those?”

You huff at him. He bursts into boyish laughter and holds his hands up. “Kidding!”

“Should we go?” Before you say something stupid.

Eddie carries Junie and you push the empty stroller until you're all looking up at the store's bright sign. "This is where you wanted to come?" you ask him, eyes falling to the window where a sign brags a children's reading nook and their Read Before You Buy promotion. 

He shrugs. "Bookstore's a bookstore." 

"No, this is for kids. We're never gonna find what you wanted in here. I doubt they have King of the Rings between Red Cat, Blue Cat and Pony Girl."

"King of the Rings," he repeats jovially. 

"Whatever it's called." 

He pulls a squirming Junie higher up the length of his chest, the fabric of his shirt rides up with her. You pull it down. You're flustered enough, his naked skin is the last thing you need. 

"Sweetheart, I'm sure they'll have what I want," he says flippantly, pushing the door open with his elbow. 

"If you're sure…" you say, following him in

The bookstore smells fancy. You breathe in the scent of plastic wrap and paper, your eyes searching over floor-to-ceiling bookshelves and pyramids of craft kits. Box sets of Enid Blyton and A. A. Milne sporting classic, whimsy spines are stacked in a towering and precarious looking arch. Signs on either side promise a children's wonderland inside. You follow Eddie around pen displays and jigsaw puzzles, ducking under the archway with an awed, "Oh, wow." 

"Watch out," he warns quietly, taking a step down into the kids' reading nook. 

You bump the stroller to the bottom of the steps and have to stop, amazed. 

Junie is a picture of you as Eddie sets her down, gazing around the room in shock. There's a lot of older kids scattered throughout on big circle pillows with books in their laps and a guardian beside them, but the real wonder is in the decoration. The walls are bedecked in murals; Kermit and Funnybones, The Very Busy Spider and the mouse from If You Give a Mouse a Cookie. Junie sees Kermit on the walls and gasps, running up to the painting with wide eyes. 

Eddie follows her without saying anything. When he catches up to her, he offers her his hand. She takes it. She's practically shouting, their joined hands restless as excitement courses through her in waves. 

You find two big pillows and a couple of books for Junie to look at. The three of you take to an empty corner and sit, looking over a big picture book full of stills from The Muppets Take Manhattan. Junie makes a lot of excited sounds and nonsense words, talking very confidently though half of it's lost on you both. 

"Kermit," she says, pointing at the page passionately. 

You wrap your arms around her tummy to keep her comfortable and hum. "Yeah, baby. Kermit, Miss Piggy, Gonzo. They're going to New York," you start to describe the page. 

Eddie leans in, his arm pressed to your arm, his skin a heat where it rubs into you as he helps hold open the book. 

The further you read the closer he gets.

Junie gets bored quickly, like toddlers tend to, and wants to go look at the walls again. Eddie stays with the stroller and you pick her up to let her touch her hands to the characters. 

"That's Spot," you tell her quietly, her fingertips brushing over flat fur. "Spot the doggy." 

Junie's never read anything Spot before. He's a popular character. There's three picture books to choose from. You pick up the first, Where's Spot? and offer it to her. 

She likes the look of him. You carry her back to your pillows and struggle to sit back down in the tight gap between the wall and Eddie's knee. He stretches his arms out to take her. . 

"What'd you find, sweetheart?" he murmurs as he balances her on his thigh. 

He reads to her. He has the voice for it, soft and sweet. 

-

"We had sandwiches," you argue, two hours and what feels like fifty stories later. 

Eddie had known before he suggested it that you were gonna fight him on this. He’s managed to end up behind the stroller, weaving between unlucky bystanders as his eyes search for somewhere to eat. 

“And they were awesome."

“Eddie,” you complain softly. 

He peeks at you by his side, grinning at the plastic bag full of books you’d insisted on carrying where it dangles from your fingers. 

You take his smile for teasing and sigh. “Come on. I’ll make dinner when we get home.”

“Sweetheart, as much as I love your cooking that’s hours away. We don’t have to go anywhere fancy. Look, there’s a McDonald’s right there,” he says, pointing toward the yellow ‘M’ sign where it flickers, breaking up a white sky. 

“I’m not hungry,” you say. He senses your proposition before you offer it. “But if you wanna get food, that’s fine.”

“You don’t like McDonald’s?” he asks. 

“I’m really not hungry.”

“Just think of it like- like using the bathroom before a long car ride. You might not need to, but it’s never a bad idea.”

Inside of McDonald’s, Eddie can tell how unhappy you are, your eyes drifting to the menu and your fingers squeezing both handles of the plastic bag. 

He parks Junie’s stroller next to a low table and you slide into the booth beside her. He doesn't sit right away.  

“You remember what I said?” he asks quietly, leaning on the table with one arm, head inclined to yours. 

Your eyes flicker between his face and his arm. You measure his gaze “Doing things for the people you care about,” you say, equally hushed.

Eddie reaches out to squeeze your wrist. “Exactly.” He tries not to squeeze too hard in case his rings dig into your skin. 

When you smile, he grabs the high chair and transfers one unhappy toddler into its constraints. There's a little basket of crayons and colouring papers near the registers that you plunder while he orders. By the time he gets back with a greasy tray of food and drinks Junie's made a masterpiece.

"Is that supposed to be me?" he asks brightly. 

Of course it isn't – there's a shock of blue and a red blob almost shaped like a heart next to the dark printed outline of Ronald McDonald. It's worth the risk of sounding like an idiot because you start to laugh so hard you can't scold him for the desserts. 

After wiping down the highchair's tray with a baby wipe, you peel open Junie's cheeseburger and start to break it into small pieces, blowing on each one vigorously before passing them over. You're about to start on fries when Eddie flicks your hand. 

"Eat," is all he says, swiping her fries out of your reach to copy your process. 

Tray laden with an abundance of bite-sized fast food, she grabs a cheesy looking slice of burger and screams loudly. 

Eddie gawps. "What was that? Is it too hot?" 

You swallow a sip of your drink and the cup sheds condensation like a spattering of raindrops when you put it down. "I think she's having a really good day," you say.. 

"Well fu-" he amends his cuss word quickly, "-dge, me too, junebug. Best day out ever. We got books, burgers, and I'm with my two favourite girls." 

It might have sounded more romantic if he hadn't said it around a mouthful of big mac. You look almost as happy as Junie does anyway, 

-

When Junies just about finished you carry her off into the ladies to change her diaper and freshen up. You have a baby in one arm and a bag full of diapers and bottles and onesies in the other, and you stare into the mirror and can't work out Eddie's angle. 

Eddie is loud and crude and clumsy. He smells like his close friend Mary Jane half the time and he doesn't know how to style his hair. He laughs loud, sings louder. Almost everything about him is unapologetic and brash, his dark looks and ripped up clothes, his van, his smile. 

And he's nice. He's so nice. Down to the bone, maybe down to his soul, there's a kindness that floors you every single time. He smiles and he squeezes and he says sorry for things that aren't his fault. He helps without being asked. How many times now has he knocked the door, found you kneeling on the living room floor folding clothes and thrown himself opposite you? Bet you I can do double what you've done in five minutes flat. Or stationed himself at Benny's for lunch to check you're having a good day? Here's five for the pretty waitress I saw earlier, make sure she gets it, won't you? How many times has he, hair limp and clothes rumpled, burst beaming into the kitchen with enough dessert for a family of five and a gallon of juice? Why wouldn't I get a gallon? Junebug'll have drank half by the time you sit down, sweetheart. 

You look at yourself in the mirror and you can't work out why. 

"Hi, girls," Eddie says when you return. 

He's cleared off the table, leaning against it with his arms crossed over his chest. Like this, the lean trim of his waist is emphasised, as is the slight curve to the tops of his thighs. 

"Hi," Junie says. You echo her greeting. 

"D'you have fun? Powder your noses?" 

"Can't you tell?" you ask. You did not powder your nose. 

He straightens up and peers at you assessingly. "Definitely. S'like you got prettier, and I thought it was impossible." His voice is sugar sweet by the end, attention on Junie. She's aching to be put down and writhing in your grip, but his voice catches and holds her attention until you're back outside. 

It's cooler. The air cleaner. You put Junie down and clasp her hand firmly in your own, bending at the waist to tell her face to face, "No running off, alright? You hold mommy's hand tight." You squish her little fingers until she giggles. "Okay?" 

"Okay," she says. 

"Okay, thank you." Then, because she looks so sweet and this has been one of the best days of your life, "I love you." 

You kiss her cheek. 

Eddie won't let you push the stroller. "You concentrate on little miss trouble," he says mildly, kicking the brakes with a frown. "I got this. Maybe." 

Half a block to the goodwill. It's not as big as you'd expected but there's a fun furniture section that draws Junies attention. You're reluctant to let her climb on the furniture in case anything is dirty or infested, though you do sit her in a wicker chair for a tree swing and a huge velvet loveseat like she's goldilocks, asking, "How's that? Comfy?"

Hidden away, there's a bookshelf painted green and pink that threatens to topple over hiding a grandfather clock still ticking. You lift Junie up so that the three of you can look at the clock face, a small silver disk with illustrations on either side. A gorgeous swelling of purples and melty blues in a ring behind the man in the moon. The sun, a buttery yellow buffeted by white-blue clouds. 

"Grand," Eddie praises. 

"What did you want to come here for?" 

He grins at you and nods his head to the left. "It's over there." 

'It' ends up being a clothes rack longer than your trailer home partitioned by size. Every t-shirt different but bragging the same premise – band merchandise. A riot of rock bands peppered in popular duo's like Tears for Fears and the occasional Cyndi Lauper tour shirt, each one sticking out like a sore thumb; a rainbow array besides faded blacks and slate greys. 

"Why'd they have so many?" 

Eddie shrugs, though he tries to explain his theory anyways. "There's a venue maybe… four blocks away? That has these vendors outside all the time shelling knock-offs."

"So these are knock-offs?" 

"Most of them. They're usually in good condition though." 

He's right. You find all kinds of shirts in varying qualities. Some obviously real, thick fabric and perfect prints. He picks up a Judas Priest tour shirt that he claims to be the real deal, a Metallica long sleeve that most certainly is not. There's a Twisted Sister shirt with a mysterious brown stain and a Ghoulie Girls muscle tee that's almost completely split down one side. 

You shuffle through the things in your size, absent-minded. Junie's not interested in the slightest and is starting to complain. You fend off an oncoming tantrum with a pack of fruit snacks, offering them to her one at a time. 

Eddie whistles where he's standing a short distance away, "Oh, fuck." 

He unhooks a hanger and holds it out, amazed. "Oh, shit." 

"Eddie," you chastise. Not because you care, but Junie saying either of those words at daycare would suck. 

"Sorry, sorry. You like these guys, right?" He holds up a t-shirt for The Mamas and The Papas, a group from the sixties. It looks new. 

It's the only cassette you own where you can stand to listen to both sides all the way through. "Yeah. Like Cass Elliott's stuff more." 

"Who's that?" 

You point at Elliott on the shirt. "Her." 

"Guess how much they want for it," he demands.

You think. Junie whines for another snack and you give her the packet. "Ten dollars?" 

"A dollar." He passes the shirt to you so you can see it for yourself and leans down to bundle up your sighing daughter. She can't decide whether she's enjoying it for a good few seconds, her annoyance at being somewhere this underwhelming for so long clear but fading as Eddie shushes her gently. "Isn't that sick?" he asks you. 

"It would be sick, if you liked them." 

He shrugs. "I'll wear it as pajamas. A dollar for a shirt? You can't steal it that cheap." 

You laugh and drop it into his basket. He bumps his shoulder into yours until you move down the rack, his fingers searching for something with focus. You're in awe at how he's handling it, a basket heavy in the crook of his elbow and Junie on his hip trying to share her fruit snacks with him unsuccessfully. 

"Ah-ha!" He pulls out a black t-shirt. The back to you, you can't tell what's so interesting about it until he flips it around. "What do you think?" 

It's the same The Mamas and The Papas shirt. 

"You want?" he asks. 

You check the price tag before answering and find yourself laughing gleefully, almost smug. "Hey, this one's fifty cents." 

He gasps. "What?" 

"I can afford that one myself." 

He pulls it out of your hand, quick but not cruel, and tucks it into the basket. "Don't care. Wanna see if they have one in Junie's size?" 

"They won't." 

"What about a small and we cut the excess off? She can wear it like a dress. We'll all match." 

Eddie picks up a bunch of t-shirts for you, some funny, a lot plain bad. You wonder if you're being made fun of but from the gleeful expression on his face you know he's just having a good time. It's sweet, really, how he seems to pick the more feminine looking ones for you. You try your best to calculate how much he's spending on you – it feels tacky and silly, but urgent – and end up losing the thread. He must've passed ten dollars by now. It makes you feel sick. 

You see your saving grace across the way. 

"Oh my god!" you feign surprise. Both Eddie and Junie look up at you, startled. "You know what mommy just saw?" 

Junie perks up. 

"What did I just see? What did mommy see?" you encourage. 

"What?" she asks. 

"I saw… teddies!" 

"Mr. Bear?" she asks. 

You beam at her. "Mr. Bear's brothers and sisters, I think. Should we go look at them?" 

She says yes and then something else you don't catch, squirming aggressively to be put down.

Eddie says, "Sorry sorry sorry," and lets her down gently.

She snatches your hand and starts to tug you away. You glance over your shoulder to make sure Eddie's following you and he is, a melty-warm smile on his face. You navigate the store floor and almost knock down a bucket of hats with the stroller on the way to the teddies. There's a few of them, all lined up in a row next to jigsaw puzzles and old board games. 

"I didn't think this through," you say, watching as Junie picks through the teddies with a huge smile on her face. She starts to hug them towards her and you try not to cringe. 

"You can scrub her when we go home," Eddie assures you leaning against the stroller, hair behind his ears.

You grab the end of a curl and pull it back in front of his face, messing with it until it falls the way you want it to. He stays very still. "I might need to de-flea her." 

He laughs and it's a shock, an abrupt sound that makes your chest ache with fondness. 

"You might. I got some tea tree oil lying around somewhere if you need it," he says. 

"And if she gets dermatitis?" 

His grins turns embarrassed. "I don't know what that is."

"It's like-" You tilt your head to the side to mimic his own and drop your hand from his hair. "It's gross. Like a bad rash." 

"Oh, then we'll give her a tomato soup bath." 

You burst into laughter and have to grab his arm to stop from toppling over, or at least that's what you tell yourself. "That's for skunks," you manage to tell him, giggling loudly. 

"Shit, really?"

You nod at him, wanting to kiss the sheepishness straight off of his lips. "You're thinking of an oats bath," you say. "Oats are good for the skin. And milk." 

"So we just rub her down with oatmeal. Case solved." 

Your hand rubs over the curve of his forearm until you reach the cold bite of his chain bracelet. It brings your attention back to what it is you're doing. You pull your hand away. 

You have enough money to get Junie any teddy she wants. You'd made sure of that. You'll just have to hide the train in your tights and wear your waitressing skirt low on your hips for a week or three until you can afford a new pair of pantyhose. 

You move to kneel next to Junie. She's pulled every teddy off the shelf and sits half-buried in them, talking a hundred words a minute. You think she might be make-believing, catching the slightest difference in her tone as she shakes one bear and then the other. 

After checking the price tags stuck sloppily to each ear, you realise you can afford two. 

Best day ever. 

"Junie," you say with intent, heavy so she'll look at you. "I want you to pick your two favourite bears. Yeah? Pick which ones you like the best. And we're gonna take them home, okay? Give them a bath, brush out their fur, get them some jammies." 

Watching the way her expression changes as she realises what you're saying is confirmation. This is the best day ever. 

She decides eventually on one too many. There's a pastel green-blue rabbit with floppy ears and a ribbon tied around his neck, half a face of whiskers that make him quite charming and a worn tail. Next to him is a classic teddy bear who could be Mr. Bear's younger brother who seems in very good condition. Last, a bigger, softer golden teddy with an enamel nose and eyes lies over her lap.

You can't afford all three. 

You've barely opened your mouth to tell her, a weak smile on your lips ready to placate when Eddie says, "The rabbit is classic. You'll have to let me get her that one." 

"Eddie," you say, looking up at him as you shake your head, "you can't. I can't let you." 

"She'll have to share him with me, obviously. He's punk rock." 

It's the least punk rock plushie you've ever seen. 

"Eddie," you say again, quietly. 

He scoops the hair away from his face like he's going to tie it up. "Y/N." He says your name expectantly. When you don't budge he lets his hair fall back to his shoulders and turns serious. "You can pay me back, if you want to." 

"Really?" 

"Only for the rabbit." 

You purse your lips to fight a smile. 

Junie throws herself into your lap with her new treasures. "For the rabbit," she parrots factually, gazing up at you with eyes full of content. Her small smile means everything. 

"He's a bunny," you murmur, fingers brushing his rough ear. 

"He's sweet." Eddie crouches in front of you. He smells like something nice though you can't think of what it is. Cologne, something dark and deep hiding under a woody scent. Maybe sandalwood. His knee taps your thigh and his hand wraps around your shoulder for balance. "Got a dirty nose though. Who does that remind you of?"

You giggle and tap Junie's nose. "I wonder." 

-

Down what feels like a thousand steps and back into the parking garage, your legs are hurting in the best way and Junie's half asleep in her stroller. You'd reluctantly let her keep the blue-green rabbit in hand, and she snuggles him close to her chest. 

"I'm actually genuinely worried she's gonna get something from him," you confide. 

Eddie weaves his arm through yours. "Like rabies?" 

"A rash." 

"I'm allergic to gain detergent tablets," he says, his hand slipping away from you so he can put both on his hips. "When I moved in with my Uncle Wayne he didn't know that, obviously, not at first. We didn't notice for a while. One day I'm scratching my chest and he says to me, boy, what are you doing always itching like that? You ever take a shower?" He impersonates his uncle's disappointed frown.

You laugh. "Poor baby." 

"I mean, I probably wasn't showering." He laughs. "I was like, wow, thanks Uncle Wayne, I love you too.

"He lifts my shirt up in the middle of the kitchen and we both just stare at this rash. It was the first time I'd really noticed. I didn't… I was a skinny kid, I didn't really find any pleasure in looking at myself. And- He got so serious. Asking me if I was okay, if school was stressing me out." 

"He thought you were hurting yourself?" 

"In a way… It wasn't the first time he tried to get me to talk about how I was feeling, but it was the first time I thought- I mean, the first time I realised that it was permanent. That we were-" He cuts off with a laugh. "I'm being weird."

"No weirder than usual," you tease. Your expression softens. 

You slow, trying to convey how much you want to hear it with a smile. You don't want to say something that'll weigh on the impossibly light mood you're both in; the ground practically glows yellow under your shoes, the two of you walking on sunshine or something remarkably similar. 

"I guess I realised he was gonna take care of me. I told him all about school, stuff I'd been lying about, how the Walton twins kept taking my lunch money, how I was failing algebra. How much I," he licks his lips and then smiles, "how much I missed my mom." 

"Do you still miss her a lot?" you ask, though you know the answer. 

"Yeah, I do. I don't remember everything, but I remember the way she talked sometimes. I don't remember her voice," he concedes, "just… the way she moved. She would lean back whenever I was getting into trouble, and she'd get this look on her face like I was the funniest thing on the planet." 

You grin at him. Your cheeks ache from what must be a hundred smiles today. It's a really nice memory to have. 

"You are pretty funny," you say.

"What was that? You think I'm pretty and funny? Baby, you spoil me." 

You stop altogether and press your fists into your eyes, defeated. "I should've seen that one coming." 

"Yeah, you should've." 

Soft snores, so quiet you almost miss them. By the time you've got back to your car Junie's sleeping with her chin to her chest and the rabbit's ear held tight in her small hand. 

"Will she wake up?" Eddie asks quietly. 

"Not if I'm very, very careful," you whisper. 

You scoop her up and tuck her into her carseat, holding your breath all the while. Eddie tries his best to fold down the stroller. 

You emerge from the backseat and make a soft pitying sound. "Stuck?" 

"I can do it," he promises, head and face hidden behind the padded seat. His hands fight with the metal bars holding it in place. Again, you tap the right strut with your shoe to help him out. 

He says thank you but refuses to look at you. You swear you're gonna kiss his cheek this time for real because he deserves one and you really want to give him one, but he puts the stroller into the trunk and touches your waist as he opens the driver's side. Any bravery gets turned into mush. 

He rolls down the window and sticks his head out, ever amused. "Are you coming?" 

You pause at the door and get closer than you mean to, close enough to find yourself distracted by the beauty mark along his jawline. 

"You want me to drive?" you ask. 

"No, sweetheart. You're good." 

You smile at each other. It's a strange sort of smile, strange to be taller than him, strange to have your faces this near. There's a lot to say but maybe now isn't the right time to say it, or maybe now is exactly when you should, and his face lifts up just a touch and your hands feel heavy at your sides.

"Eddie…" 

You close your fingers over the door, braced as his body turns to yours. You get the sense that he's waiting for you to say – or do – something. To lean down. To take the leap. 

He's the prettiest boy you've ever seen. 

You waver. 

"You know," he says lightly, blinking his long lashes at you in a way that has your heart skipping beat after beat, "if we hurry, I think we can get on the highway before the work rush. We'll be back in Hawkins before dark." 

You bring your hand to his cheek. A sorry and a thank you at the same time. "I don't want to be back in Hawkins before dark." I really want to spend more time with you. 

"I'll crawl." 

You press your lips together, tongue in your cheek to stop from giggling like a loser as you walk around the hood and climb in. He turns the key in the ignition and switches off the radio before it can wake up Junie. True to his word, Eddie goes what must be a half a mile an hour out of the parking garage. The car behind you beeps aggressively. 

Your eyes flicker between the rearview and his grinning face. "What are you- oh." 

"Crawling," he murmurs smugly. 

The sun starts its slow descent. You use his knee for leverage and pull down his sun visor, then your own, blocking the light. Eddie says, "Thank you," very sweetly and you get comfortable and clip yourself in, anticipating a long drive home. 

The stores turn on their neon, fast food and take out restaurants open for the night. The smell of warm oregano and olive oil is strong as you drive through the side avenue past a pizza place with its door thrown open. 

Eddie asks if you're hungry and you decline. He takes it with grace and doesn't say much besides passing commentary until you realise he's going the wrong way. 

"Eddie," you start. 

"I know. Just- one last thing. Let me get one more thing and then we'll go home and you never have to let me spend money on you ever again." 

You look over his pinched, pleading brows and his slight pout for any insincerity and find it in droves. "Until Friday," you say, dejected.

"Now you're getting it." 

He pulls up to a small bakery and weasels his way inside. You wait, car idling, hands rubbing over the cracked leather of your seats wondering what sweet treat he's going to emerge with. 

You have a nightmare – a heaping bag of donuts and shortbread and pastries, things you could never pay him back for, more to add to the impossible pile of things he's given you. 

Doing things for the people you care about, you repeat to yourself wearily. 

You hadn't expected anything for the haircut, but this is more than a haircut. It's difficult not to think of every dollar as an attribute of every hour he's worked. What makes you deserving of his literal physical labour? 

I didn't force him. He likes me. 

He certainly looks like he likes you as he appears again, shoving his wallet into the back pocket of his black jeans and wielding a flat looking plastic platter with an exuberant expression. He almost drops them trying to show you. Your heart shoots into your throat.

He's still chuckling when he throws himself into the driver's side. "Shit, did you see that? Almost lost 'em. Here, sweet thing. Hold the sweets. Makes sense, right? Sweet thing holding sweet things."  

You accept the tray of what looks like a rainbow of blobs and go to peel off the lid. "Can I?" you ask. 

"Of course you can." 

You pull off the lid. Twelve cupcakes of all different colours in rows of four. The first four are chocolate cupcakes, one with green icing shaped like a frog, one with a white rabbit, one with an orange fox and one with a blue fish. The second row seems fancier. By the third and fourth row there's no pattern, just an assortment of flavours and decorations, chocolate curls and glitter, a half a strawberry, a smattering of mini marshmallows. 

"What flavours that one?" you ask, pointing at a golden cake topped with multicoloured icing, a swirl covered in little crystal like sprinkles. 

"I don't have a clue. I picked the first four and then realised it was taking too long. Told 'em to give me whatever."

"Eager to get back?" 

"Eager as a cry for life. Try it." 

"You don't want one before you start driving?" you ask. 

"I'll try that one after you." 

You peel back crisp, metallic shiny paper and take a cautious bite. It's a bourbon vanilla cake with a coffee flavour buttercream to cut the sweetness. You can't tell whether you like it or not at first, so you take another bite. 

"Leave some for me." 

"Sorry!" you say through a giggly mouthful. "Here." 

He has both hands on the wheel. You don't know what possesses you – though you're starting to wonder if it can be called possession at all, more like a hunger that won't let things lie – to do it, but you bring the cupcake up to his face and hold it so he can take a bite. 

He licks a big dollop of icing as it threatens to fall down his chin, head tilted high. "Oh my god. What is that? Is that coffee?" 

"I think so." 

"Okay, awesome. Let's try another one." 

"What?" 

"Let's try another one. There's still eleven left! We can save the cute ones for Juniper the Loveliest, but that's still a ton of flavours. C'mon, let me try the one with the chocolate curl. If I remember, it has white chocolate melted inside." 

"If you remember?" you ask, peeling back the paper of his requested cupcake. "You've had these before?" 

"A long time ago." 

You tilt your head toward your shoulder and watch his lashes kiss. "Here," you say warmly. 

He accepts the proferred cake and takes a good bite. His eyes roll back into his head dramatically and he goes stiff, shoulders tense and then suddenly not. You watch the muscle of his bicep flex as he tips his head back in pleasure. 

You chortle and you're so happy you don't care how silly you sound, nor how unattractive you might look as you hit him in the arm. "Stop! You're enjoying it too much!" 

"I'm enjoying it the right amount! Try it, try it," he says quickly. His eyes flick back to the tray. "I wanna try that strawberry one next." 

"Watch the road, Munson, god! I'll pass you whatever one you want, just don't crash the car!" 

You forget yourselves. Laughing, eating icing with your noses scrunched up, you don't remember to stay hushed, and soon Junie's awake and annoyed. 

You worry for a second that her crying will dampen the mood, but Eddie beams wider still. He's more smile than boy. 

"Junie baby! What cupcake do you want, sweetheart?" he asks her, watching her in the rearview mirror. 

"Cake?" she asks. 

"Cupcake! Yeah, baby, what one do you want? There's a froggy and a fishy and a bunny-" He stops to take a turn onto the highway. The road evens out underneath, the plastic tray stops crinkling. "And a fox," he finishes. "All for you." 

You twist in your seat, bunny and fish held in your hands. "Fishy or bunny?" you echo. 

"Fishy and bunny," she says clumsily, eyes widened with excitement. 

"Just one for now, baby. Let's pick the bunny," you say gently.

There's no hopes of her eating it cleanly. You don't bother with any precaution. It's your car and her seat and her clothes and if she wants to cover it all in soft fondant you don't mind, anything she wants if you get to see this look on her face. Pure happiness, her eyes closing in bliss as she takes her first bite. 

"Good, huh?" Eddie asks, speaking glances at her. 

"Good!" she says loudly, cheeks plastered in white icing and fluffy golden crumbs. 

Then, like the good girl she is, she tries to offer up the cupcake and almost drops it. 

"S'that for me? Aw, you keep it. You keep it. Mom's gonna share hers with me." He grins at you. "Isn't that right?" 

You share that entire tray of cupcakes right there in the car. By the time you get home, back to Hawkins, it's dark, your stomach hurts, and every cupcake bears two missing bites. 

𓆩❤︎𓆪

thank you for reading! | my masterlist | multi-chapter

if you enjoyed, please reblog! i promise it makes a difference ♡

[zandra-lang-cave]

Base on the "humans are space orcs" tag I'm obsessed with recently.

----‐--------------------------------------------------------------

"So let me get this straigh" says a faceless octopus like creature. Her antennas shaking slightly wile she crosse four of her eight appendices in a disappointed manner that manages to be slightly terryfiyin to the two creatures in front of her.

"YOU" she point at the younge rock like creature while this one tried to put back its broken hand in to place "play a prank in our captain. Our HUMAN captain. To demonstrate HIM" she pointed at the small 3 legged boy that just keep looking at the floor in shame "that humans are not to be feared because 'human are on average week and most likely to flee'. Did I understood correctly?" She finishes.

"I mean yes. That's the basic of it" says the rock person while they finish to attach their limb back "I didn't expect her to kick my hand, or break it apart from my arm and then run away into a wall" they finish In a sheepish tone "didn't know humans were so strong, I mean not even in a combat I have lost a limb!"

"It was terrifying to see" says the smaller boy "you say she would freeze or run! Why did she atack?!" He scream.

"In most circumstances of danger most Humans would run" the faceless woman speak "but sandy, do you really belive we would have a 'defenseless' human has a captain without them being combat efficient?" She questioned "humans might not be the strongest in the galaxy but they can still pack a punch when trethen"

"But marcy, she is a human. How could she break my hand?" sandy says while they rub their wrist.

"Casey might be human. But Humans have a tendency that when under panic of a threat they can get an extreme strenght boost in exchange of the abilty to sence their own pain. They can easily break a golem under those circumstances" marcy states while moving her antennas to the captains body to sence any harm "now, she doesn't have any actuall injury. She just pass out. Leave my medic unit while I wait for the captain to wake up. Then she decide what to do with you two" she finish.

"Yes doctor" says the golem.

"Why me!? I didn't do anything!" Says the three legs boy.

"Randal you could have stop them. I have seen you convince sandy to stop themselves before. If you didn't do it its also partially your fault" marcy states.

Randal stays silent for a moment before saying "fair enough. Come on big stone, Lets leave and enjoy our time before death"

With that say Randal and sandy leave the medic station.

"How much longer are you planing on staying" says the octopuses while looking at the human in the medic bed "Because I have a new medic assistance to train you know"

"The kids got a cockroach in MY ship. Let me rest before I chew them a new one" the human spoke without moving or opening their eyes.

"O for the stars. Is just a small insect. You smash the spiders without a second thought"

"Marcy you don't get it" Casey stood up from the bed and start pacing in the room "it was a FLIYING cockroach. It flew from their hand and now I have a FLIYING cockroach in my ship!" Casey states hysterically.

"Your a captain. Act like it, Now leave" says the faceless lady.

"Fine. I'd leave, but if I die I blame those kids and apoint you has new captain" with that say Casey leaves, looking cautiously everywhere.

"So..." says a small voice "when are you gonna tell the captain she have a 'cockroach' has a new member of her crew" a small insect like creature similar to an earth cockroach crawl from under a desk and flew to the doctors shoulder.

"When she stops eating my melron berry cake" marcy says "she is allergic to it but I swear to the stars humans would eat everything has Long it doesn't let them on bed rest"

"You are a menace doctor" says the smaller creature amuse.

"Adicus I will not be the second in comand of this ship if I wasn't. Now help me organize the crew next medical screening"

----‐--------------------------------------------------------------

And done. Haven't write this much in 2 years. any advice or criticism is accepted

[rknchan]

as i had promised before, finally im writing a post about my thoughts on catcf

sorry it's quite messed up, i'm gonna talk about a lot of things, compare the movie to the book and their takes on the characters and their fate. also i'd like to remind that it's all entirely subjective and based on my feelings only!! also i have seen the movie and read the book in russian translation so might have missed some details lost in translation. sorry if anything offends you, i didn't intend it and im open to discussions ,,,

AUGUSTUS GLOOP

he didn't seem to have much time and personality both in the book and in the movie? wasn't his only character trait and only vice that he eats a lot? (my highest kin) what did he even do wrong? he was told that everything in the room was edible so he actually started eating everything? what a crime

in the movie they tried to fix him or exactly make him worse and showed him being mean to charlie; but the oompaloompas don't criticize him for that but instead for being FAT AND STUPID!!!! i don't think he was that deserving his fate especially comparing him to other kids, but at the same time his punishment seemed the lightest? sure he was scared when he was sucked into the pipe, but in the end he seemed to be happy? he didn't end up that traumatized and even managed to enjoy some chocolate

VIOLET BEAUREGARD

when i watched the movie for the first time, i wondered why her song shows her as a bad person not because of her competitiveness, arrogance or obsession with victory but.... for chewing too much gum?? the book gave me the answer to this question: book violet doesn't have almost any personality aside her chewing gum addiction; it was mentioned that she holds a record for chewing gum but it wasn't really emphasized?

so i liked how they developed this part of violet in the movie making her obsessed with competitions and prizes, while leaving some details showing it's the pressure of her family which forced her to be like that. she's still a grotesque caricature supposed to be annoying but she's a much more colourful (?) and memorable character there imo.

VERUCA SALT

such a cute and annoying at the same time spoiled material gurrrrl both in the movie and the book i love her portrayal sm. also i like how her song showcases that her parents are responsible for spoiling her and they share the same punishment

and that episode in the movie when she befriended violet with a nasty smile . such an iconic moment i adored it

MIKE TEAVEE

i adored him hes such a funny little brat!!! but his song with the whole "television bad books good" message is understandable in the book but when you hear it in a MOVIE youre watching ON THE TV that makes no sense

btw i like how in the book they showcase the problem of parents who ignore their children and would rather let them spend all day in front of the tv than communicate with them. that implies mike has some family issues as well too bad it wasn't shown in the movie

WILLY WONKA

book and movie versions of wonka are quite different but i love them both equally willy is such an amazing character :c

book wonka seems to be just an easygoing guy in a constant silly goofy mood who actually cares about the children but just lets it slide as he knows they won't be harmed?

movie wonka on the other hand seems more whimsy and cursed??? he appears creepy and threatening, with some sadistic vibes even, and behind his appearance of a funny eccentric mememan making cannibalism jokes, he hides SUFFERING and deep childhood traumas

i liked how they made wonka's character more deep and dramatic, but the question is - does a character like him really need this tragic backstory? what does this twist add to the whole story? i shall return to this question a bit later

CHARLIE BUCKET

book charlie is sweet but looks like he was supposed to be an unpersonalized character so that every reader could associate him with themselves... so hes a bit bland and lacks some individuality imo :c sure we see his generosity (hes willing to share his chocolate with his starving family) and kindness (he's worried about what will happen to other kids - i almost cannot remember that in the movies) but through the course of the plot he does almost nothing but feeling qUeEr fEeLinGs about the wonders of the factory and not getting himself into trouble

in the book there's no problem in bringing all charlie's relatives to the factory - so he doesn't face the dilemma of leaving his family to become the heir of the factory or staying with his loved ones. but in the movie that's a major problem and a whole new plotline! we can see charlie's doubts and insecurity, wonka's contradictive feelings taking him over, find out the reasons behind wonka's rejection of family - and it's charlie who helps him.

this plotline is even more important for charlie's character development rather than wonka: we see charlie in action, we see how caring he is, how much he is willing to sacrifice for his family, see his sincere desire to help wonka feel happier...

the final scene gives such a warm feeling it sends me to tears,,,,, finally willy wonka is not alone...

FINAL THOUGHTS

speaking about the message of the story? i felt that the book told that one must be kind and generous to reach happiness? the movie sure has that idea too but it's sorta more focused on the importance of family and not being alone?"

once again im unsure about the book :c tbh as the protagonist doesn't have much of a personality and actions, it seemed to me at times that the message is one must be rule-following and not getting into trouble ?? also replace tv and chewing gum with youtube and idk energy drinks - and it can easily turn into a conservative pamphlet on how the new generation is bad and amoral - but it doesn't seem like one thanks to the genius of roald dahl!! his manner of writing and sense of humour is fantastic

so in conclusion i prefer the movie to the book (for the first time in my life ahhahha) but idk if they're actually worth being compared ... and of course i don't think the book is worse or anything - it's just not really my cup of tea i guess? though i still enjoyed it a lot and had a great time reading it ^^

thank you for attention!!! if you think i was wrong in some aspects feel free to correct me ,, and once again id like to remind that it's not some kind of analysis just my personal thoughts and feelings and it may differ from yours

have a nice day!

[athena-is-a-chaotic-lil-shit]

Of Ice and Blood

Part 8

Supposedly everything I post consecutively is one part, but I always reach the 250 block limit everytime so I am forced to cut it off! It's all good though, I just hope you don't mind that.

Anyways, enjoy reading! I'll be working on my requests after I post this and the slasher fic in my works.

Edit: Holy sh*t I thought it wouldn't fit but it did! (And I meant the word count you dirty lil thing—) This will be the longest part in the series yet (since 4.3k words fit perfectly)

Pairing: Tai'chi Kashharzol (Orc) x Pearl Blackbell (Fem!Human/Reader)

Word count: 4.3k

Warnings: None :)

Contains: f l u f f (and maybe too much blushing but I have no regrets)

—

You let the student call the police as you tied up four unconscious men using their clothing. You left when you heard the distant sound of sirens and trusted her to explain what had transpired in the alley. You bid her farewell, resuming your walk to your destination. You breathed out your exhaustion, the little energy you got from a short nap earlier got spent punching people again.

"So...that was..."

"Expected." The orc supplied when you trailed off.

"Mm...Yeah."

Expected, both disappointing and frustrating. You did your best not to snap at the kid for it and only hoped she understood and learned.

The sun had already sunk long ago, but there was still a myriad of warm colors. Very subtle, but there. Each passing second transitioning it into a darker shade until little specks of light became visible. The sky...black in a matter of minutes. Street lamps lit your path as shops both closed and opened for the night with people saying hello and goodbye.

"Thank you, by the way. For uh, earlier." You got careless. Too careless than you usually are.

You shivered at the thought of what might've been the outcome.

He only nodded, along with a grunt of affirmation beside you.

"Are you mad?" you whispered. Was he angry at you being a stupid idiot and rushing straight into danger?

"No, just, "—he sighed, rubbing his forehead with his fingers—"worried." His scent was clearly not just of worry. He was also scowling.

-

Tai'chi was very worried about you, he always had ever since you met, which wasn't long but he felt a strong need to protect you, even if you could handle yourself well on your own. Oh, but he was angry, enraged within at those men who harmed the poor student, especially at the one who almost stabbed you at the back. If they were in his stronghold they would've been fed to the wargs.

No, he would've torn them apart himself.

You didn't speak again until you arrived at your place, finally. You're not rich and even if you were you have no desire to live in those luxurious and super expensive condos. You preferred to have something homey, small, as long as it had what you needed for comfort and safety, you were content.

It also saves a lot of money for future expenses and emergencies.

"So, uhm, welcome." You said as you unlocked your door after several tries on putting the key in. Tai'chi ducked considerably under it, his large frame barely making it through.

You took off your shoes, placed them on the side, and kept your socks on. He followed suit, taking off his boots, coming out barefooted.

It wasn't smelly, which was pretty surprising.

You headed to your kitchen and prepare dinner for both of you, but a hand on your shoulder stopped you in your tracks.

"I will cook." Tai'chi spoke and you immediately replied, stuttering.

"I-I should be the one cooking for you! It's not right. I'm the host and you're the guest it shouldn't be—"

"Pearl, I will cook." He asserted, his voice deep and confident, you sighed as it made you relent. You'd make a mess if you did anyway, might chop your hand off with a knife or dunk your head in the pot.

"Fine. But next time I'll do something for you instead," you groaned.

-

The orc grunted once before he stepped past you and into your kitchen while you plodded to your room.

Tai'chi paused for a moment to take in the details of your house. It was fairly small. From where he stood, his head was a foot away from touching the ceiling. To his left was an open way to what he assumed was the living room where he could make out half of a brown couch facing away from him. He also noticed a couple of framed photos hanging on a faded orange wall. Tai'chi glanced in the direction where you disappeared, he could hear the faint sound of the shower going on.

Good.

Not wanting to waste any more time, he started preparing dinner for the two of you, making use of what was present in your humble home. You had a similarly humble kitchen with a simple stovetop and double-door cupboards.

A decent-sized (a/n: everything is small to him okay) refrigerator sat in the corner where he found some meat in its freezer, quite a huge portion for such a small person like you, but then again he witnessed firsthand how much you could eat, and eat like an orc you did. Tai'chi reached inside to grab the meat but met resistance. He subconsciously yanked the frozen thing off, his eyes widened when he realized what he did, nearly topping over the whole appliance. Tai'chi sheepishly adjusted the refrigerator back in its place, before he looked for other ingredients while he carefully moved around to avoid any more mishaps.

-

You went inside your bedroom, groggy and disgusting as you pulled off your clothes and threw them in a basket just outside your bathroom. You stepped inside and took a long, hot, well-deserved shower to get that dried sweat and blood off of your body. After you rinsed down, you sunk yourself in your little tub, sighing in content as you tried your best not to fall asleep. You shuddered and trapped yourself in a daze, enjoying the hot water around your naked form, relaxing in the aromatherapy you made for yourself as you hummed a tune, letting your thoughts wander.

The precision of that throw was simply scary. But also cool...mm. Awesome.

I wonder what happened to the Silverstones...

Courting, huh...who would've thought I'd be courted by an orc. I wonder what that entails...

Wait, I'll be courting him too, right?

"..."

You got out when the wrinkling started. Your muscles were still aching but less so than before. You used a towel to dry down before wearing a black oversized shirt, you had about 6 of them in your wardrobe 'cause hey, not one to dress up fancy and flashy. Plus blood gets splattered on your clothes a lot, it would be a waste of time and money. You also slipped inside your favorite pair of dark grey joggers, the one you always wore when you were at home. They were comfy!

You let your hair fall over your shoulders and back since it was still damp. When you got out the scent of cooked food engulfed you, wafting from your right.

Oh, how mouth-watering it was.

You tiptoed to your kitchen to peek at what Tai'chi cooked up. Unfortunate when you couldn't see anything with his broad physique was blocking your line of sight on the table.

"I could smell you, you know."

You almost, almost let out a yelp. You wiped your drool with the hem of your shirt.

"I- uh-"

He chuckled, "You must be starving. I—" Words died in his throat when he turned around to look at you.

He gawked.

You surprised him for the nth time today. There you stood before him, relaxed and freshly cleaned up, a whiff of mint reached his nose, your shampoo perhaps, mixed with your scent. You didn't have your mask on, which gave him a full look at your face, your lips were a little chapped, half-lidded eyes showing your exhaustion.

"Is there something on my face?"

"N-No." He stuttered as he tried to get something out. "Ehem, no. You just look... I'm done with dinner, you— we should eat, and then we can talk." Tai'chi said as he moved to take a chair and sat across you. You let that go, in favor of sating your hunger.

His cheeks were a bit darker in shade than his skin, but that slipped away as the dinner in front of you grabbed your full attention. It looked and smelled like pork curry. Was it pork curry? It's like something straight out of a Ghibli movie.

Bite-sized chunks of meat, diced potatoes, and carrots coated with a rich syrupy brown soup together with a modest –at least to both of you– portion of rice next to it. It was simple, but the way it tempted your senses implied that there was something more than what meets the eye, and your nose.

Or it's your gluttony speaking, probably.

You picked up your spoon and wondered if it's as good as it appears to be. You gulped, audibly.

You brought a small portion into your mouth, nearly falling off of your seat as you resisted the urge to make any sound that would outright embarrass you, but lo, as you took another spoonful, you couldn't stop yourself from letting out a moan. Your eyes widened and immediately covered your face with two hands as you felt it heat up.

You chewed and swallowed before you squeaked out, "I-I-I'm so sorry! It- It's just so yummy and tasty and I— it's amazing, and uh..." You trailed off and groaned, at a loss of words in your embarrassment. You risked to part your fingers and peek at him. He met your gaze and you hid again. His cheeks were in a darker hue than before. Was he flustered like you? Oh no, you shouldn't have done that, now he will think you're being weird!

Tai'chi cleared his throat and you removed your hands but refused to make eye contact with him, your face still hot.

-

"We... We should eat." He said, stiff and trying to seem indifferent. But that sound you made would forever be engraved into his mind, it was both cute, and, well, sensual.

Okay fine, it was somehow arousing, but he has it under control, he will keep his damn urges in check, even if it means jumping out of the window just to make sure he won't scare you away. He's an orc of honor for goodness' sake, he swore an oath, he will keep it.

You ate fast but paused to savor the food, minus any embarrassing noises, thankfully. The curry was rich and a bit spicy, the pork was soft and tender as you chewed at it easily, juicy as it is, along with the potatoes and carrots, both cooked and prepared with obvious care. You almost cried from the combination of flavors you nearly forgot it was just curry you're eating.

But damn, this is the best curry you've eaten your whole life.

It was minutes later when you finished your fourth heaping plate of food. Tai'chi had five. He made a lot which was great, considering how your plates were wiped clean as if they weren't used in the first place.

Damn, you ate like you didn't eat for a week.

With some regained energy, you stood and took the dishes before Tai'chi could even stop you, putting them in the sink and washing them, quick and thorough. Once you were done with that, you went back to your seat, ducked your head, and stared at your lap.

"..."

"I... Thank you for the food. It was really delicious and great and everything! And, uhm, you made the pork curry like a pro and I never tasted anything so fulfilling, —my mother will beat me if she heard that—and it was a simple curry but I, it's just so, so—" you huffed, "mind-blowing!" You were rambling, you knew. You looked up when he didn't say anything.

H-He's grinning...

"Thank you. I pride myself in my skill in the kitchen and I'm happy what I made for you was satisfying." Tai'chi thumped his chest, showing that he was very honoured to hear your words. He's never telling you he almost broke your fridge though.

"It was great!" You exclaimed right after him, throwing your hands up. It was truly great. He grinned even wider at this, that dark shade still present in his cheeks, though you were no better as you could feel the warmth on your own.

"Then I am beyond happy and honored to hear that from you," liga lul, he stated, only saying of the last part in his head.

You smiled at each other.

-

"Is now a good time to discuss my kind's courting rituals?" Taichi asked after a minute of sitting there in silence.

"Y-Yes, please," you replied. "So, how do orcs court someone?"

He straightened up in his seat.

"We show off to the one we're interested in, basically speaking. Ranging from skills in fighting to proving that we could provide for our...mate." He paused, watching you closely.

You nodded for him to continue. Not gonna lie, that last part made your heart skip a beat. Mate, huh.

"We," he coughed, "we also chase or fight off other suitors, be it threatening them or engaging them in battle. And if they attempt to kidnap or hurt the person courted in any way, they will suffer the wrath of an orc."

"So, they'll...die?"

"Yes, or so that's what it usually was back home. Here, in this city, it's a crime to kill someone just for that reason, but it is law among us. No one would bat an eye if someone gets beheaded just because they were foolish enough to insult the person an orc is courting."

"Oh," pretty brutal but okay. "Is there an option where they don't get murdered or..." You asked, waving your hand around. Killing because of an insult is going overboard, in your opinion, but then again, anyone would be furious if their potential partner gets slandered or taken away forcefully.

"When the courted wills it. It is always up to them to decide the fate of those who tried to harm them, and the orc must take their words into action."

"Oh, good. I really don't want you getting in trouble just because someone called me a freak and all," you said. You looked at your hands, calloused and a little rough from experience. Scars were littered over your body and you hid them well from any curious eye with your long sleeves and pants. Though right now, some of the scars on your arms were visible.

You jerked when you felt his large hand grab your arm and moved along to yours, rubbing his thumb on the back of it, his brows furrowed as he looked at you.

"They are wrong to call you that."

"And everyone's a piece of shit to call you a beast, a savage, or a murderer," you followed up in an instant.

His expression softened, and you smiled, ignoring how your heart hammered in your chest as he continued to caress your hand.

Tai'chi could feel your pulse, beating so fast he was scared for your health. But he was happy to know he could make you feel this way, his own heart was thumping loudly in his chest too.

"As I said before, we would show that we could provide for our potential partners. We would bring to them our best kills from hunts, offer gifts crafted by ourselves if we have the skill, if not, we will buy them tokens and things that remind us of them or what pleases them."

"Wait," you interrupted, "when you insisted on cooking dinner, was that a part of courting?"

He gave you a small smile as he scratched his sideburns, sheepish like a little child caught stealing candy.

"Yes." He answered, rather quiet than his usual booming voice.

"Uhm, I must say, it was really amazing. Your cooking, I mean. And thank you, again."

"The pleasure's all mine," he replied. "Building houses or fixing the courted's current one is also a part of it."

"You're not gonna build me house right away, are you?" You joked, but then he didn't reply. "Wait, you're serious? But we're still studying and—"

"I am serious about building a house for, uh, the two of us," he interrupted, "but yes, I understand our current situation won't allow that to happen...yet."

"H-How long does the courting last?" You couldn't help but ask. He's talking about building you a house someday and you don't even know how old he is! No connection to what you're fumbling about but yeah, your mind is messed up. You are curious though...his age.

"It usually lasts for six months, to give time to get to know each other but also not prolong the courting stage so they could proceed to the next, but there are times when it lasts longer than that. You will have absolute control over how fast or slow we proceed in the courtship. That means it's up to you on when to end it and decide whether you'll...take me as your mate, or turn me down."

"Sounds pressuring but okay." You want to, like, combust right now.

He chuckled.

"Pressuring? No, no, please do not be pressured. Your word is law and I will face death by my family's ax if I disobey your final decision."

"Again with the death thingy!" You were appalled at how extreme orcs were.

"Us orcs are very strict and firmly tied to our traditions, but I can say we are changing. It is slow, but change nonetheless."

"I have a question," you raised your free hand out of habit.

Tai'chi nodded.

"I hope this is won't offend but how old are you?"

There, you said it. Oh fuck, you hoped it wasn't offending. Shit it was— asking his age, seriously?

"How old do you think I am?" He questioned, teasing you, a smirk on his lips catching you off guard.

"What? Noooo that's not an answer! I can't guess, you might get angry."

"I won't," he supplied right after. Why would he be? In fact, he is pretty much enjoying himself just watching you fidget with your ears slightly tinted pinkish. By the gods, he wants to touch them.

You sighed.

You stared at him, avoiding eye-contact as you tilted your head to get a good look at his features. He had a long and narrow scar you didn't spot before, in a lighter green color on the left side of his face. It wasn't noticeable if you stare at him up-front. It went down his neck and ended just above his collar bone. You wondered what caused it.

The orc was rough, his double tusks sharp and intimidating, even horrifying to another set of eyes but to you, he was attractive and rugged, his scent alluring and you only found him more fascinating each passing second. The scars he had enticed your curiosity but you weren't gonna ask about it, yet.

You always thought the standards set by society are rather absurd. You looked back at the time when someone asked you what your type was, along with showing you different pictures of men, human men, which were deemed "hot" (with quotation marks, yes) by most people. You didn't answer because; one, you don't know them; two, you couldn't tell what their personality was because you can't scent them; and three, it only annoyed you. People found you even weirder after that. Ironically deeming you senseless for not having an eye for beauty. No taste or missing out, they said.

But one's beauty wasn't found in sight alone.

You hummed to yourself. His hair was rich black, no trace of graying, so maybe he's not so old? 30s? How fast do orcs grow up? Do they even age? What do they look like when they were children?

You were brought back to the present when he gently squeezed your hand.

"Oh— uh, 35?" You blurted out, a bit panicked. As far as you know no one is as....buff as him in your age— but wait he's an orc!

"Oh no wait that's—"

You were cut off by a loud snort followed by a boisterous laugh coming out of Tai'chi, making you more embarrassed than you already are. His guffaw shook your apartment you swear your neighbors are filing a noise complaint tomorrow with how much he was laughing and you raising your voice.

"No," he said, "no actually, I'm still in my 23rd year. Do I really look that old?" He questioned as he chortled.

"23rd?! But you're— you're," you gestured at him. He's just five years older than you (which isn't long period of time you think) but he's— he's fucking huge! What the hell did they eat up North?

"Yes," he laughed again, amused by your reaction. "Believe it or not I am. Orcs begin training at age 6" he shifted the topic, "The adults would let them choose their desired weapon and craft to pursue, but also allowed them to experience all selections, from swords, battle axes, hammers, and many more, along with skills and crafts like hunting, blacksmithing, combat, construction, even basket weaving.

"I went on my first hunt when I was 12 and brought a stag back home. I tamed my first warg at 15, named him Nadul, Orcish for 'night'."

"6 year old me snuck out of the house during nap time to collect twigs in the woods while you were wielding weapons and—"

"That is correct,"

"And you had a pet warg?" You knew what wargs are, you read about them when you were in high school, along with other animals that fascinated you. They looked like large wolves with the stature of an adult grizzly bear and can carry a full-grown orc into battle.

"Have," he corrected, his fluffy buddy was still very much alive and well the last time he went back to visit his home, which was three months ago. He doubted anything could take down Nadul, not even a Frostbear, he was the one who trained him after all.

"I still can't believe you're 23. You look so..."— you were not gonna say old, no— "mature."

"At a different rate from humans, yes."

Of course they do. You got so much to learn about orcs, and him.

"And you? How old are you?"

"19."

"Oh? You look 13 with how little you are,"

You didn't expect him to be playful like this, but you went along.

"Hey! I'm only small compared to you, you giant!" True, you were a tad shorter than most girls your age but it has its perks! You'd save a lot of money from buying clothes just because you grew rather slowly. "And in fact, I'm still growing!"

"So am I." He grinned, smugness painted all over his face.

"Noooo, if you keep growing you won't fit through the doorway!" You whined, pouting at how much of a tease he was being.

He found it adorable, the way your lower lip was upturned as you looked at him. The sudden urge to pat you rose but he didn't act on it.

"Do not worry, us orcs stop growing in our 25th year," or not. "And I will make sure to feed and treat you good so you'll become taller!" he stated confidently. Tai'chi was about to laugh again, but he froze with his jaw open when you turned real red, your ears tinted and your lips quivered, unable to speak out anything.

That last part, made your face feel like fire just kissed it, twice. Panicked and having no idea what to retort, you let your head fall on the table with a thud. You gripped his hand tight and took silent breaths to calm your thumping heart down.

"Y-Yeah... I..I l-look forward to that, Tai'chi." You were able to say that at least.

He gave a soft grunt as he looked at you on the table.

You were very flustered, he scented. His comment-sort-of-declaration was clearly the reason. But oh, he had no regrets. He will make sure you're healthy and well-fed, and it's just one way of showing off with his skills.

That's only the beginning.

You were in for some Orcish surprises.

You sat in comfortable silence again for a while, just taking in each other's scents, soothing and calming your hammering heart. Tai'chi continued to caress your hand, gentle for such a big orc like him. He could snap your neck with two fingers alone, but he remained careful like he was holding a thing so delicate.

Tai'chi could feel your pulse slow down to a normal rate, your scent shifted to that of a relaxed state and something fuzzy. He can't call you his yet, you just met today but you already got him wrapped around your tiny fingers. First, he will court you and show his admiration, prove his worth. And you, yourself, turning it into love the more you spend time together, he knows it will.

And he'll surely be damned to let this chance slip. Not once did he took interest in getting a mate before, his mind too busy and filled with his responsibilities along with studies in other kind's culture, and taking care of his siblings.

But back then and there, something pulled on his heart, the way your eyes stared into his for seconds that felt longer than eternity itself. An exaggeration, but that's what he felt.

He found you.

-

You were about to doze off so you removed your head from the table and tried to blink away your sleepiness, the light hurting you a little. You should get to bed soon, your first class starts at 8 in the morning. You stared at Tai'chi, admiring that blue eyes of his, its hue similar to that of lapis lazuli, you thought.

"I should take my leave now. We need to rest, especially you." Tai'chi said when he saw how tired you appeared, you were barely keeping your eyes open. He stood up from his seat, lightly pulling you up with him. You shook your head, rubbing your eyes as you led him to your door.

"Keep safe," you bid once he was ready to go.

"You as well... I will see you tomorrow."

"Mm, g'night."

Tai'chi breathed through his nose before he placed a kiss on your forehead. It was brief, but it sent a pleasant warmth all over your body. You were too sleepy to even bother being shy now, so you only smiled at him.

"Goodnight, lak'mar lul." He gazed at you, sighing before he stepped out of your apartment.

You stood there for a moment before you checked your door and made sure it was deadlocked. You killed the lights off as you sluggishly trudged to your bed. Darkness enveloped your home, a welcome one. You crawled to the middle and tucked yourself under the dark blue cotton sheets.

You were out like a light once you settled down. Much too many things happened right after another, draining you to an exhaustingly low point. You only prayed you'd feel better in the morning.

Your last thought was about how warm the orc was, and how, for some reason, his scent, his presence, felt like a home you never had, which was saying something since you had encountered a lot of scents in your life, both good and bad. You hugged your pillow tight as you succumbed to a dreamless slumber.

—

I'm putting this off for a bit to give time for requests and other WIPs. But if a random continuation pops out I'll have to write it down and set it aside for editing later.

Thank you for reading!

[boop-le-snoot]

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Star is getting better, Sam is getting a friend, Stephen is a Sad White Boy™. A layover chapter. I'm not very happy with how this turned out but hey, it's an update and its still pandemi-lovato outside, we gotta be gentle on ourselves. PA turned out to be way more serious than I planned it to be anyways and I think that's very yeehaw of me to expand my writing from the usual almost-crackfics that I write. Love you all 3000.

Days stretched like a piece of chewed up gum, bleeding into one another at a snail's pace, one dull grey NYC afternoon after the other. The hospital wing I was forced to camp out in Tony's tower was top notch but everything, starting from the constant beeping to the sharp, chemical smells, irritated me, and what little strength I had to communicate was mostly spent on listening to Sam's tall tales.

Odette had stopped by shortly after the first wave of weakness had set in; no, I didn't dramatically faint or suddenly develop third stage cancer, I simply turned into a near-catatonic vegetable, devoid of any emotion or will to exist. My bones were like Jell-o, my thoughts - sluggish, sparse clouds that rarely swam in the grey plains of my overtired mind.

My boss was fussing over me for hours, I heard faint echoes of her and Stephen's argumentative conversations before she flipped out and shut the door to my hospital room, strong aromas of incense and smoke briefly overshadowing the bleach and plastic stench every hospital seemed to have. I

I became mostly coherent after her ministrations; enough to see the dark circles under her eyes and the ghastly tone of her skin. More often than not, I couldn't even properly focus my vision, things like using the bathroom and eating three times a day were the worst chores I'd ever had to do.

My body was trying to convince me to wither away, to simply allow the vessel for my spirit to become one with the Earth once more. I had no energy to process what had happened on the foreign planet; when I slept, I didn't dream, I didn't have nightmares, time just flowed like a fast, untamed river, my weary body drifting along the calmer streams of the shoreline and occasionally bumping into a stone of daily routine.

My stubbornness, however, was an inherent part of me. I had considered, many times, simply giving up; the voices in my head whispered at me their poisonous ideas. It would be so easy, to fall asleep and never wake up. They baited me with the promises of afterlife, of golden halls and spaces full of light and warmth.

Sam had started spending a lot of time at my bedside absolutely unprompted; sometimes, he'd hold my hand, gentle, tender fingers drawing senseless squiggles on the inside of my palm. Faint echoes of his aura told me he was worried for me, but also grateful for what I did for Stephen and angry at someone. I tried not to think about the last part: I could sense their pity and their unease every time one of his teammates stopped by my hospital room.

A healthy-looking young woman spending most of her days blankly staring at the wall wasn't a picture-postcard view. Sam wasn't bothered by it in the slightest, and when I finally clawed my way out of the dredges to be able to answer questions with a simple 'yes' or 'no', he promptly lit up, speaking to me in a happy tone that almost wasn't forced.

Tony stopped by, too, usually late in the evening, when he thought I and everyone else was asleep. He sat next to me, his intelligent brown eyes fixed on my face for twenty, thirty minutes at a time before he'd stroke my hair or run a hot, calloused palm over my arm, and then took his leave, slow, shuffling footsteps quietly receding into the hallways. I really didn't know what to think about Tony, he had always been quite quirky, but his gestures were... Nice.

Stephen... Him, his actions, I understood the least. He had argued with Tony, argued with Odette and I was sure I heard him and the Black Widow scream at each other during lunch time. Sometimes I thought I heard his voice, at night, the darkness behind my eyelids suddenly bursting with golden sparks and green bokeh but when I finally mustered up the strength to open my eyes, the empty, white walls were all that greeted me.

Stephen never stopped by, I rarely heard his voice outside of my room and almost always it was one bickering or another, mostly with Sam muttering a few choice words as he noisily sat down on the chair next to me. As much as I hated to admit it, it bothered me. Near-death experiences tended to leave a strong imprint on the human mind and whether Stephen liked it or not, we were connected for life.

"Then Steve, the dumbass, just jumps out of the plane. No chute, no warning," Sam's voice, drifting between fond and annoyed, snapped me out of my stupor. "Robot-brain curses, yells at his boyfriend like he can hear him and just... Does the same fucking thing," the exasperation made a tiny spark of mirth settle in me. I flexed my fingers despite the dull ache, gripping Sam's fingers in my palm. I didn't need to see him to know he immediately perked up. "Meanwhile I'm standing there with my wings, trying to figure out where in life did I take the wrong turn to end up with these two idiots."

"You should get them," I swallowed, my throat dry, my vocal cords tense from the lack of use. "One of those... Backpack leashes," the words were a battle to get out, it was a fight with a brick wall to force my brain to string sounds into a sentence, but I persisted.

"Should I say 'welcome back'?" Sam's optimism is cautious.

"Gettin' there," I forced my eyes to meet his, to see the life bustling in him. To feel alive, even by proxy.

"I should get Strange here, he's been running himself ragged these days, tryin' to figure out how to bring you back," Sam's free hand scrambled for his cell as I struggled to raise my eyebrows. "Yeah, yeah, I was as surprised as you were, Tony barely gets the wizard to sleep and eat."

Faint pangs of shame wormed into my headspace, for assuming the worst when I knew that his façade of vitriol and sarcasm was just that - a wall to protect himself. My rediscovery of the ability to feel, even if it was gooey shame, grounded me in this plane of existence, forcing me to face reality and return to it.

"I feel like shit," for once in my life, I allowed myself to openly, publicly complain about my state of being.

"Yeah, I couldn't tell," Sam's tone was refreshingly teasing. "Odette and Strange explained what you did. Well, sort of," the man scratched his chin. "I understood about half of it, really, but what matters is that you were badass as fuck!"

I struggled to hold onto that sense of being present. "Well, it wasn't my choice," I felt the need to state the fact. "I'm a conductor, of sorts."

Sam's eyebrows rose, both of his hands encompassing my lax palm. "Wizard-man said you consciously directed the energies, or whatever."

I felt the tiniest laugh bubble up from the bottom of my throat, my dry, chapped lips stretched on their own accord. "Because it tickled and itched. It was annoying," I belatedly suspected that there was something... Off, about my explanation.

Sam's gaping expression, exasperated disbelief, put me on edge. "You thought that radioactive ash tickles and severe nerve damage itches?" His head shook from side to side, as if he was trying to get rid of a persistent mosquito.

"Um," I had the decency to look away. "I didn't know it was radioactive," I meekly supplied as the door to my hospital room all but flew open.

Stephen looked - not much better than me, if I had to guess, with the exception of a highly anxious face instead of the (probably) dead inside high school drama club goth that I looked like. The Cape billowed behind him despite a lack of any wind, wiggling as my eyes widened in response to the fabric moving on its own.

"You're okay," Stephen's baritone had me snapping up to meet his stormy eyes with a speed I wasn't aware I possessed at this stage of my recovery. The sorcerer stood silently, eyeing me in turn.

"I'll go get some coffee," Sam delicately interjected, giving my hand a brief squeeze and all but running out the door.

"Radioactive?" I repeated the question that bothered me the most. Shock seized my chest as I fully faced the implications of our impromptu adventure, but I welcomed the acrid sensations, desperate to feel anything at all.

"Yes," the sorcerer took a few long, hurried strides before crashing into the chair. "I didn't notice at first, but then you grabbed my hand and," a jerky inhale followed the confession. "I felt the healing burn, I felt how your body rejected the particles," his speech stuttered. Slender, gloved fingers pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'd be dead in an hour, maybe, if not for..."

I was equally at a loss for words, it seemed. "Weren't we... Harmful to others when we..?" I struggled to form my thoughts.

"You burnt it all off," Stephen replied curtly, puzzled. "Your whole being rejected everything that came from that wretched place. Tony insisted we run tests, do scans. Neither of us have even residual radiation from past x-rays," Stephen's fingers twitched. "But that's not all."

"Your hands?" I offered, remembering some of Sam's words.

A sharp inhale coming from the sorcerer answered my question, if not in detail, and the man himself hesitated to reply for a reason I did not know. I didn't undo the damage, this much I knew was true. He swallowed loudly, eyes firmly planted on the wall opposite me. "They do not hurt anymore," the words were barely louder than a whisper.

I chewed on my lip, slowly, idly, letting Stephen process whatever bothered him that much. He should have been happy, or so I thought, that there was one less thing in this world that had the potential of giving him a headache. "Good," I simply replied, attempting to shrug.

"No, you don't understand," he suddenly lifted his eyes, staring at me hotly. "You did so at the expense of your own life, your lifespan, you energy, your ability to have child-"

I stopped his rant, lifting up one shaky, and my feeble gesture instantly made the tired, broken man deflate into someone that reeked of shame and regret. His shoulders dropped, head briefly touching the side of my bed. For all purposes, I nearly acquired a lapful of kicked puppy Stephen.

Mustering up my very last dregs of energy, I scoffed in his direction: "Don't fucking tell me what to do, wizard," before the familiar weight of apathy began taking over me again. One sluggish thought after the other, I came to a conclusion that he was experiencing a sort of survivor's guilt, except I didn't die.

Or maybe I did? Maybe I'd left some unknown, invisible part of me on the irradiated plains of a foreign world, coming home as a shell of my former self. To their eyes, at least, it could have looked the part; not too long after Stephen's departure, I mustered up the strength and the courage to look into a mirror, to properly see the damage I'd done to myself.

An ashen undertone to my skin, my eyes had sunken deeply into my surprisingly angular face. I had the look of a person who'd survived famine and torture, at least. I appeared to be as dull and disgusting as I felt. For what felt the first time in ages, I carefully, slowly ran myself a hot bath with some of the fancy toiletries placed in the bathroom, because of course Tony would have a full size bath in a hospital room, the steaming, herbal-smelling liquid almost instantaneously giving a boost to my blood flow and speeding up the living energies within my exhausted form.

Sam was waiting for me when I stepped out heated and pruney, a lopsided tilt to his lips and the mouthwatering smell of coffee gathering saliva in my mouth for the first time in days.

"Stephen needs to see a fucking therapist," I grouched, sitting down on the bed, bundled up in a fluffy bathrobe.

Wilson's responding eyeroll was pure reflex. "They all do," he reached out for his thermos, having noticed me eyeing it. A paper cup was promptly filled and given to me. "I can recommend a few, by the way. That specialise in unusual circumstances," he eyed me with kindness, gesturing towards the hospital room with a wide wave of his hand.

I chewed on my lip. "I don't think it will help much, at least right now, since all my hurts are- eh, magical," I shrugged. "I gotta figure out how to stop my limbs from feeling like cooked spaghetti noodles first." The coffee tasted like the usual hospital sludge but somehow, after being devoid of all feeling, it was the single best thing I've had in the past week.

"Seems like a solid plan," Sam agreed. "Your boss is a scary lady, by the way. And I mean it respectfully."

The corners of my mouth tilted up. "Yeah, but she's also very experienced and very kind. She knows her stuff."

Sam quickly looked to the side and as I followed the direction of his stare, i spied a pile of empty Tupperware boxes, causing me to lift an eyebrow at the suddenly bashful man.

"What?" He tried for indignant but it came out as a squeak. "I'm a man, god dammit! I am given free food, I take the free food!"

The realization set in. "She's feeding you now? Did you hit on my boss to get food, Sam?" I wagged my fingers, enjoying the face expressions the man was making, probably, a little more than I should. He looked like a right bird when disgruntled, all puffed up and glaring.

"No!" He almost shrieked. "She cornered me, said I was doing God's work by sitting and talking to you! She just started bringing those... Casseroles, every time she stopped by," the agitation in his voice was quite funny to me. "Not like it's a chore, I actually like the peace and quiet. You've been the best listener I've had in the past year," Sam's grin grew more genuine. "And I don't have to see RoboCop's mug all day or listen to someone argue over the best pasta shape."

"Your house sounds like a nightmare," I supplied conversationally, remembering my own peculiar place and the set of rules and- SHIT, I belatedly realized, someone might went to my apartment to get my stuff and gotten in trouble. "Sam, who went to my place to get my stuff?" I asked, trying to force down the bubbling unease.

"Some lady stopped by, I think her name was also Sam?" He quietly questioned. "Had two kids with her, the boy kept staring at me like I'd stolen his lunch money," the man finished off his coffee, gathering the trash and noisily throwing it in the bin.

"Yeah, that's my neighbor. And Armin is a cool little dude, he's just very shy," I offered absent-mindedly, inwardly breathing a massive sigh of relief.

"He looks like the boy from 'I see dead people' movie," Sam deadpanned, opening a large drawer and extracting my gym bag from it. "I'll leave you to get dressed," we nodded to each other before Sam left the room, phone to his ear and a relaxed atmosphere around his whole being radiating warmth and contentment. That was a nice change from the tense, grim atmosphere of the days past. I could get used to it, could re-learn how to let myself feel like a living being again.

I was eager to return home; stepping in through the portal, my living room greeted me exactly the way I left it the day I went to work, a few books scattered on the couch, my fleece blanket hanging halfway off the couch. Stephen hovered behind me as I set my bag down on the table, immediately surveying the state of my plants and my altar.

"Do you need, um, help with anything?" He was fidgeting, all but vibrating behind me.

Apparently, Sam had talked some sense into the wizard because he stopped by a few times since that day, for a short small-talk or a cup of coffee, the kicked puppy look back on full display.

I told Sam off, of course, saying that I was an adult and so was Strange, but something in his knee-jerk reaction told me that he was so used to playing referee, it didn't even register with him that I might be able to handle my own business. I told Sam that much, taking his hand in me: I wanted a friend, not a parent, not a therapist. It went pretty smoothly.

"No, not really," I figured I could water my own plants and vacuum my own floors. My phone buzzed at that moment, a number saved in my phone as "Tony 😎" coming through with an absolutely outrageous message.

"I'm bringing pizza in 20. You better have Netflix. Tell Dumbledore to pick up his phone."

I promptly thrust the phone in Stephen's face, who instantly developed an equally annoyed and fond expression, as he searched the numerous pockets of his robe for the sleek, light StarkPhone. "Resistance is futile," he sighed, sitting down on the couch as I went to change into something fresh and water my plants while Stephen flicked through my Netflix. I heard him mutter to himself: "Grey's anatomy? Sixth season? Oh my God," with the tone of a man tortured.

"I had a roomie in college who majored in Medical History," I snorted. "When she had a bad day, she'd absolutely pick apart every single thing in the show. From the doctor's misconduct to the way a surgeon was holding the scalpel," I explained, seeing Stephen's eyes sparkle with amusement. "She was absolutely vicious and it was the most hilarious thing."

The sorcerer stroked his chin, leaning back into the couch. "That's acceptable. All medical shows are rubbish," he stated firmly. His phone beeped, causing him to sigh and conjure up a portal within seconds, in the corner of my apartment I had aptly designated to be the landing pad to myself. Tony stepped in, a bottle of wine and three steaming pizza boxes in hand. Smiling at his boyfriend, Stephen turned to me with a curious look: "What did you major in?"

Taglist: @couldntbedamned @mikariell95 @letsby @sleep-i-ness @toomanyrobins @mostly-marvel-musings @persephonehemingway @schemefrenzy @lillsxd @bluecrazedandbeautiful @slothspaghettiwrites @xoxabs88xox @secretly-a-weeb @stuckybarton

[riftimagines]

hello 💓 if you're accepting requests (feel free to ignore), I'd really appreciate it if you wrote something about sett. for a few weeks, his girlfriend avoids him because someone tells her that she is too much trouble for him after finding out she's hiding an eating disorder and self-harm from sett. she believes this person and decides it's realy the best if she just disappears from his life. sett finds out and immediately goes to find her? fluff and soft boi sett? 🥺❤ thank u ❤

I had actually did headcanons for this but it just got too long so I turned it into a  one shot! I hope you don't mind that and you still like this!

Sett x Self-harming!Eating Disorder!Reader

Warnings: Trigger Warning, Attempted Suicide, Self Harm, Minor Character Death, Minor Blood, Minor Swearing.

Catching the eye of the infamous Ionian pit fighting ring boss seemed impossible but lo and behold one trip to the pits with some adventurous friends and now you hardly ever leave his side. Ever loving and charming in his own gruff way. He always made you feel normal and happy even on days where you didn’t feel right. When you felt empty and not enough food could fill it or even the thought of food made you want to throw up and never eat again he was there to make all the badness go away. Everything for once felt decently right and you could just live as best as you could with someone that actually loved you for you. Too bad that didn’t sit well with some of the more envious eyes.

A green monster’s eyes stare into the back of your head with bitterness. Why would their tough, strong, handsome boss care for such a weak, pathetic nobody like you? You weren’t even a fighter for deities sakes! So what made little worthless you so much better then them? They were stronger, better looking, and didn’t have weird eating problems. They just needed you to leave him since Sett seemed so adamant on staying with you. Unfortunately for you the opportunity for them to strike arose rather quickly when Sett turns to you.

“Hey, babe I need to check in with my bookies for the nights payouts, you keep my seat warm alright?” You nod happily and he grins and gives you a quick peck on the cheek before walking off to the bookies office. As you sit there you can’t help but feel a looming presences behind you. Turning around you spot one of Setts underling fighters looking at you. They take your look as an invitation to saunter up to you and glare down at you in Setts seat. You can feel the bubble of anxiety building up in your abdomen as they stare you down. They pick up a fruit from the table next to the seat your in and they lean in close as they bite down on the fruit hard enough that you could feel the juice from it land on your cheek. You cringe at the sight and your are not sure if your want to eat a fruit or throw up at the thought of eating it. They chew for a moment before before speaking to you.

“So your the boss’s new arm candy? Must be for charity or something.” Your brows fur in confusion and you glare up at them. They snort loudly and eat more of the fruit.

“I mean why would such a man like Sett like a little broken thing like you? So feeble, useless really, I heard you can’t even eat right. Here, have a fruit.” They toss one of the same fruits they were eating at you. You catch it and stare at the fruit like its a foreign object. It looked edible but then could you stop eating or would it just make you gag? As you contemplate the fruit your harasser just laughed.

“See, you can’t even decide if you want to do a basic human function. Even babies know what they want. I feel kinda bad for the boss. He has to put up with you and whatever the hell is wrong with you. Such a pain in the ass if you ask me. He probably just stays with you so he looks nice to better people. You know attract the better normal people.” You look down in shame. Sett wouldn’t do that to you, would he? No, he wouldn’t, but then again he didn’t know the broken side of you. The days of eating mindlessly or not eating at all for a couple days or the days where  you did eat but just threw it all up. He didn’t know that you would physically beat yourself up about it. The scars that criss crossed across your arms, a daily reminder of the darkness in your mind. As your mind wondered the underling observed you and realized what you were thinking.

“ Oh, he doesn’t know does he? Now your a lier as well as a broken waste of space. You know, if you really supposedly love him wouldn’t you want him to be happy with someone who’s probably better for him in the long run. I’m sure you know as soon as he finds out about your little eating problem he’ll want you leave you for something better. Might as well save yourself some pain and let him go first don’t you think?” You felt a horrible familiar pain in your heart. It would be better for Sett if you weren’t around being a ball and chain. He could most defiantly do better then you. He deserved someone better then you. The fighters eyes brightened as the seeds of doubt were now planted in your head. It would only be a matter of time before your out of the picture.

“You just think about that, huh? If you can’t be good for him let him have someone who is good for him. Don’t let him suffer your problems. He doesn’t deserve your problems, no one does.” They say that last part with bitterness and a sharp in your face glare then made their leave back to the corner where they came from. So many things running through you head. Sett loves you right? Yeah he does, of course he does and you love him, but he didn’t know about your problems. He didn’t know that you had trouble with eating or how much you hated your self because of it. He doesn’t know that your a dirty lier that hasn’t been honest with him about all your faults. The fighter was right, you needed to leave Sett, he needed someone so much more then you. A perfect, honest, wonderful person for a wonderful, handsome man like him. You were lost in thought for who knows how long until a large shadow overcast you. Sett looks down with you with his lovely sharp toothed grin and dipped down to kiss you.

“Hey babe, I’m back everything’s good to go. You ok there hun? You look a little sad. Did someone hurt you? Just tell me babe I’ll make sure they’ll never hurt you again.” He cracks his knuckles and neck and looks around for any potential culprits.

“No love, I’m just tired its getting late thats all.” You tell him. More lies. Another fault and reason why Sett should be free from you. He looks a bit skeptical but he doesn’t push and instead settles down in his seat next to you and holds you close to him. He was so warm and comforting. So much more then you deserved. Starting tomorrow Sett will be free, no matter how much it would wound your heart.

The following weeks were so incredibly hard. You had been avoiding Sett like a plague and it was waring on your very soul. Every time he wanted to see you you would leave or make an excuse. Any dates he wanted to make you’d say no. He’d be so confused and sad but you’d take off before he could say anything. Everyday now you would cry. Everyday controlling how you ate was more of a task then it had ever been before. The small blade you had to defend your self now became the thing of your self destruction hardly ever leaving your hand and in those hands left a trail of blood and shame in its wake. In the sanguine pools around your limbs your life drained from you. It hurt so bad but good at the same time. The pain of your skin being split open by a sharp blade hurt for a short while but there was also and inexplicable relief in this pain. Though in the end your end will not come. Only a new mark will stay on your tapestry of sorrow that was your skin. This tapestry had become your life recently. The constant waves of agony that washed through you were only soothed this way. You try to convince yourself that Sett could never have loved this. This was all for the best, all for your dear love, Sett. It had to be.

Unknown to you Sett was getting rather fed up with all this running away and avoiding him. He loves you dammit and he knows you love him too! So why the hell were you being so distant lately? He was grumbling to himself and putting everyone in the pit on edge. Bookie and fighter a like knew what happens when you test the Boss when he’s in a bad mood. Nothing good they’ll tell you what. While everyone was generally avoiding Sett while he was irritated one particular fighter saw this as a chance. You were gone, you had to be to put him in this kind of mood. Time to test the waters. They made their way over to the beast man, who paid them no mind in the slightest. They frowned then coughed loud enough for the boss’s ears to twitch. Sett quickly and aggressively rounded on them and growled.

“What do you want? Can’t you see I’m not in the mood right now? Buzz off!” They were taken a little aback by his sheer aggressiveness. Now they knew he’d be a little upset but to be this upset over a broken thing like you was a bit ridiculous. It almost seems that he actually liked you but that couldn’t be it because no one in their right mind could like you. Well if he was going to be rude then they could be rude right back.

“No need to be so rude Boss. Im sorry if your little fling flaked out on you but they were certainly nothing to be upset about losing.” Before they could say anything else Sett moved with such speed they had no time to react. Their head hit the wall so hard the world started to blur and spin. Sett was snarling as he lifted up this dead weight bastard by the throat and slammed his head against the wall again. No one talked about you like that in front of him NO ONE.

“And just what the hell would you know about them?!” They yelped in pain as Sett punched them hard in the gut hard enough for some blood to dribble out of their mouth. A dark grin appeared on their blood stained face making Sett glare and tighten his grip on their throat. Ah, they had truly underestimated how much he didn’t know about you. It was likely Sett wouldn’t let them live but at least they could go out knowing Sett’s love would waver when he hears the truth about you and maybe just maybe you had already left this world and they could rub it in your face in the afterlife.

“More then you apparently. Little flake was broken anyway. It would be so much better for you if you just let the little defect go. I mean a guy like you shouldn’t have to deal with a creature that can’t decide if they want to eat a lot or nothing then just throw it all up or just spit up acid. Then on top of that have to deal with their “accidents” that they give themselves because they can’t handle their own mind. Honestly a waste of life that no one should put up with. You should just let them go. That is if they haven’t left this world already.” Sett blinks as he takes in all that information. You had eating problems? You HURT yourself? You want to avoid him so you could break yourself more because you were afraid of he would leave you? None of that set well with the beast man. You didn’t need to hide that from him. He loved you so much and if you had problems he’d want to be there for you. He NEEDED to be there for you, but first he needed to take out the trash. With a deep growl Sett channeled some of his Vastayan power into his arm and quickly crushed their throat. Blood sputtered out of their mouth for a moment before they fell completely limp. Sett dropped them like a sack of potatoes and turned to face some of the other fighters who silently watched the scene unfold and nodded for them to get rid of the body. Two of them moved quickly to dispose of the corpse and the others stood there in fear of their boss.

“Alright fellas I’m gonna head out for a bit. I’ll be back later with my babe and if anyone has any crap to say to them you’ll end up like that horrible bastard thats being taken out the door, got it?” Everyone in the room collectively agrees and Sett promptly leaves the terrified room behind. He needed to get to you now. If anything that A-hole said was true then you were probably not ok and if you weren’t ok he wasn’t ok. He kept you in mind as he started to run as fast as he could towards your home, hopefully he wasn’t too late.

In your seemingly dark and cold abode you sat on the floor in front of you bed. Sullen, in pain, and defeated there seemed to be no end to this sadness today. The only thoughts that ran through your mind were of your imperfections and your love who needed to be free from the blemishes of your life. You held the blade in your hand precariously. You were so used to the blade grazing the skin as of late that it didn’t bring anymore of that reliving pain. Perhaps you needed to go deeper. Yes, you needed to go deeper the pain was deeper so you just have to push it in closer to the core of your misery. You looked at the thing that had become a part of you arm its sharpness could go in so far it could be so easy for it to just pierce the core of your being. If it did everything would end. All the pain, the doubt, the indecision, gone. Thats what you want. Everything to be gone. You bring your end closer to you and in the process catch the sight of your arms tattered in red lines and blood splatter of today. Sett would be so sad to see that. He never liked to see you in pain, always wanting to fight away all your problems, such a sweetheart. A small smile actually appeared on your face as you recalled the memory of the day Sett told you he’d kick the ever-loving ass out of anyone that would even try hurt you. Such nice thoughts. Hopefully Sett’s next love will appreciate such protectiveness. The sliver of a smile you had fades and the knife in your hand and the wounds on your arms become more real. The pain rolling back into your chest double time after the happy memory. No he didn’t need this. You were a horrible mess that needed to be disposed of and you had the way to be disposed of in your hand. You feel nauseated as your mind races. Everything hurts. Everything hurts please make it stop! You gasp and begin to cry. You didn’t want to die, you wanted to live happily with Sett, but that could never be. You didn’t want to be that much of a burden to him. This is how it has to be. You hesitantly bring the blade up to your chest and start to hyperventilate. No, yes, no, yes, don’t do it you deserve to be happy with someone that loves you and he’s out there waiting for you. Lies, he probably doesn’t even notice your gone just end it and lets be free from all this pain. Your so lost in thought you don’t hear the pounding on the door or the sound of it breaking.

“Babe? Babe?!” The loud, sudden yelling in the room draws you from your thoughts and a blur rushes to you and wrenches the knife from your hand and throws it across the room. Your in shock as two large, warm, strong arms wrap themselves around you and pulls you in to the large man their attached to. You look up and see red fluffy hair and a dark purple fluffy vest collar in your face. Sett, he came for you. Tears bubble up and begin to rain down on Sett’s shoulder. He coos you softly and sits down fully on the floor and pulls you into his lap. His head presses softly against yours and he begins to kiss your tears away. A calloused hand cups the side of your face and makes you look up at him. He looks so concerned and slightly frightened. He was scared of losing you and you almost let your life slip away. So stupid, your so stupid, he really did need someone better.

“No I don’t! The only person I need is you. I was so worried about you. You started avoiding me and I didn’t know why. I was so confused, I didn’t understand what was happening. I still don’t to be completely honest but I want to know. I want to understand so you don’t have to feel like you have to do this. So you don’t have to hide from me and almost leave me.” His voice trembled at the end. You look upon his face and see his eyes shimmering like tears that wanted to fall but didn’t. He missed you so much and it felt so nice to have you in his arms, a little beat up but alive.

“But there’s so much wrong with me. You don’t have to deal with it, you shouldn’t have to. You don’t have to deal with me not being able to control my eating habits or this.” You gesture to the scars on your arms and your tear stained face.

“I’m a mess. A horrible mistake upon you and the world.” You were silenced by a deep loving kiss that held you both quiet until neither of you could breathe. The kiss ended with both of you gasping for air but Sett recovered faster and filled the quiet with his voice.

“Don’t be saying that crap. I know you feel bad, but your definitely not those things. I was told the same thing growing up. That I was a horrible mistake and nothing but a pain in the ass for my mama. She didn’t care about that though and whenever I felt bad she’d tell me that as long as one person in the world was happy with you then your life is worth living. I’m that one person. I love you so much and I don’t care if it takes me my whole life to understand or maybe I’ll never understand but the point is, I’m here for you and as long as I’m here for you, you don’t need to feel alone or ashamed. We can take all the time you need babe. I’ll be right here.” Your eyes filled with tears once again not from sadness but with joy. He truly loved you so much and was so patient with you. Perhaps, this can work. It would take a lot of time but maybe you could get better. As long as Sett was by your side it felt like you could just make it through and see some light at the end of your previously dark tunnel. You smile at him happily and cuddle into him. He lets out a small laugh.

“See, it’ll be ok, hun. Now lets get you cleaned up a bit your starting to look tougher then me!” He chuckled and kissed the scars on your arms as he picks you up easily. You can feel a better mood creeping in and jest with him.

“I am tougher then you.” He smiles and starts to kiss at your neck making you giggle and you swat at him playfully.

“Hmm, you might be right there, babe. You might have to protect me every now and then.” You nod and he snuggles into your nape. The light is even brighter now and for the first time in a long time you feel something you haven’t felt in a long time, Hope.

[wrathfulspark]

 @xreznikovx

“I know, I am not the one to usually ask questions, I mostly get asked them given who I am. Plus, I feel that if there is anything you want me to know about you, you eventually talk about it. I like the sudden discoveries between us rather than knowing everything about you up front Mon amour. However, I am always wanting to know more about you, even though I feel I know you fairly well given what all we have shared with one another.”

 Tamryn maintained a fond smile as she searched the beautiful features of her lovers face before meeting the kiss with a sense of eagerness. Leaning her head back against the headboard she exhaled softly as she let her fingertips run through Elidi’s hair aimlessly as her lover rested in the crook of her neck, letting out a soft huff like laugh she commented back,

 “Are you really so quick to get back to Tabula Rasa? Relax Mon amour, that is all we have to do for the next three days.”

 Thinking over some ideas of what they could do beyond being in the hotel and the beach the she wolf was mentally lost in thought and was not expecting the nip against the skin above her collar bone. Her fingers gripped Elidi’s hair and let out a playful growl as her eyes shifted yellow against her control for a moment before she recovered with a sly smirk as she locked eyes with the her lover,

 “Mmm, I would only abuse it in the right ways darling.”

 Tamryn arched a brow as she teased back, but became somewhat serious again as she wanted to still be clear,

 “I would never intentionally do anything to abuse you in any sort of way, and I intend to ensure that others are incapable of abusing you as well. No one will hurt you as long as you are with me and I can prevent it.”

  Hearing the whine she tilted her head thoughtfully and let Elidi sit up to get her drink, Tamryn looked over to her own glass which was near empty and decided to fill it only to nearly empty it in another long drink. Her gazed drifted to the screen as Elidi mentioned how she hadn’t been focused on the movie. The she wolf bit her lip for a moment before sitting up a bit more against the headboard,

“It’s fairly hard to focus on a romance movie when you have set this room up like one of our own. That and I honestly find it hard to focus on anything other than you as of late...”

 Her focus shifted as she looked over the witch’s legs and arms seeing the slight tint to her skin, her own seemingly unphased by the sun despite how fair skinned she was, with a almost prideful grin she moved to be closer to her love, leaning in towards her ear some as she added,

 “The beauty of being the beast. Tanning, and sunburns are in a sense skin damage, we recover even from that fairly quick. We can tan, and get burned eventually, we would have to sit in direct sunlight for a prolonged period of time to tan and, I don’t have that much free time really. I like my fair skin, it’s divine to a degree.”

 Sitting up now she crossed her legs and sat facing Elidi as she gathered a few of the chocolates onto her own pillow, aimlessly arranging them in the shape of a small heart before taking one and opening it to eat. Arching a brow as Elidi suggested the aquarium she smiled but then gave her a look as she mentioned not wanting to control the trip,

 “Eli, stop being so modest with me, at this point, you don’t have to be. I don’t see anything you do when taking the lead or taking charge as being controlling, which says a lot coming from me. I don’t often like letting other have control. I like that you are not shy to take control with me, I want you to be selfish with me and our relationship because I am doing the same. When I want to do something with you, we do it, even if you protest a bit at first. I want you to feel the same way. If you want something or want to do something simply mention it and it is yours, or ours. I see you as my Queen, not just my girlfriend or lover. So let me treat you as such, and by all means start to feel like such, specially when its just us here.”

 With a faint smile she picked up one of the chocolate and unwrapped it while she spoke. Moving over the bed she straddled Elidi’s lap, being aware to hold herself up with her thighs so she didn’t touch the potential sunburns her lover had. Leaning down she held out the chocolate close to Elidi’s lips with a fond smile,

 “I want to do the things you want to do. If that means sitting on the beach all day just so you can be near the ocean, then we by all means will do that. Or if you want to go to the Aquarium then we will do that as well. Even just sitting here, pretending to watch a movie while we enjoy this new territory together is enough. I know I seem very complexed to the public, but when it comes to you I am not. I just want to be near you, and do whatever it takes to maintain this happiness we have together.”

Elidi listened intently as Tamryn spoke, her hues while attentive, soft as she gazed at the redhead. Her head shook slightly once Tamryn finished speaking, "You can know whatever it is you want about me, whenever you feel like knowing. I'll tell you anything." There was a small pause, as the witch pondered her words with deliberate consideration, "... From my childhood, teen years, all the way up to adulthood. Maybe we could make a night of that, hm?" Though when the duo tended to talk about their past, the tone always descended into a darker territory, but the end result brought them all the closer together. Elidi found solace in that.

Elidi's eyes slip shut as her lovers fingers comb through her hair, relishing in her touch, stirring only at the sound of her voice. Looking up at Tamryn's accusation, she's quick to shake her head to dismiss the comment, no matter if said in jest, "Of course not darling. Tabula can't hold a candle to you. We could be... just out and about on the streets and I'd still prefer it over Tabula. When I am with you, there is no greater place to be." She spoke matter pf factly, a wide grin on her lips before she scatters a trail of kisses along the Alpha's skin available to her. "I am plenty relaxed."

The grip on her hair, once placid, now firmly gripped darkened locks, Elidi's brows raising in surprise. Bright eyes take notice of the yellow hue in her lovers gaze, a side of Tamryn she wasn't all too familiar with, but enraptured with none the less. Only abuse it in the right way, huh? A smile covers her lips, adjusting quickly to press the tip of her nose against Tamryns, amused. "How cheeky." Though upon noticing the change in Tamryn's demeanour, she's quick to alter her own, "I know Red... and I hope you know the same. I never want to hurt you, and I would never intentionally do so. I want to be someone you can always rely on and come too with whatever you may need. I don't have a pack or as much authority as you in mattera of protection, but only the very best of my abilities to assure no harm will find its way to you."

Elidi rubbed the back of her head, sheepish and embarassed, she hadn't decorated the room entirely up to her standards, but if Tamryn liked it she supposed it was okay. She wanted nothing but the best for her amor. Listening as Tamryn explained her slight tolerance to the sun, Elidi let out a hum in thought, "I see... though I do agree completely. Your skin is divine. Heavenly. It makes it all the more tempting to mark." She faltered, "Not that it would stay."

Watchful hues observed as Tamryn sorted the little candies into a heart, a faint chuckle leaving her as she found the small act adorable. "Well... I know, I know. I just, want to make sure it is something you want to do too. Just off an assumption here, but I doubt you come to the beach much, so it is a rare occurence. I want to make the most of it, with as much as you're comfortable with."

Accepting the piece of chocolate, she grinned as she chewed, finding Tamryn much sweeter than the little treat. Her hands found their way around the redhead's waist, guiding her hips down to sit upon her thighs. "It won't kill me." Elidi teased, although entirely swooned at Tamryn's consideration of her burn. "Besides that is all I want to do, be near you." Digits idly toyed with the ends of her fiery red hair, brushing stray hairs from Tamryn's palid visage. "Maybe we can sit on the beach like you suggested earlier." Elidi turned her head to look out the balcony window, "Seeing as I dozed off once or twice there, by the time we get everything prepared, the sun should be setting."

She sat up partially, holding Tamryn securely in her lap as she pressed a lingering kiss to her lips, a small grin evident on her lips.

"Oh! We can even go for a walk on the beach, that's romantic. Isn't it?" The suggestion, albeit her own, seemed to perk her up significantly. "Then we can drink. See, I have now planned a proper evening. The aquarium can wait."

[littlemessyjessi]

“Carnivore”: A Dracula Story: Plus Size Reader: Chapter 2

BBC/ Netflix Dracula  Imagine

Warning:  Mentions of cannibalism, violence kink and taxidermy.  Just a warning. Enjoy.

I had never been what I would call a morning person.

Unless by morning you meant 12 a.m.

If you meant being active when everyone else was asleep in bed then yeah, sure- I was a morning person.

But when the birds started to chirp and the people began to busy about... I. Was. Out.

Which was exactly why I was so extremely grateful to my butcher who stayed open to the wonderfully spry hour of eleven at night.

Bless his soul.

Joe was honestly a saint at times and I had no problem giving him my business.

I always peeled some off the top of our kills to bring home to my meat freezers but for my main diet...I needed a butcher and that was just that.

I arrived there at precisely 9 pm and I was greeted with a smile as I came through the door.

"Ah, my favorite creature of the night!" came the rather chipper voice of Joe.

I glanced up at him, "Evening, Joe."

"I have your usual ready." he said.  "It's just in the back."

"Sounds wonderful." I said dragging the large rolling cooler I'd brought with me to the front and wheeling it over to him.

"You're the only woman I know who actually comes in here with an ice chest.  Weekly.  Sometimes twice a week." he teased.

"Yeah, well, I'm a special breed." I said taking out the cash and handing it to him.

It was always the same and I paid him in cash...with a good tip.

Say what you will but tipping well made all the difference with people.

"I have some exotic game for you as well." I said. "It's in there before you fill it up."

"Keep your money then." he said with a smile.  "We'll call it a deal."

"Joe." I said with a pointed look. "I bring you my business because I want to and I bring the exotic meat because  A.) I know you can appreciate such a thing and B.) I adore the service.  So please don't insult me and just accept the gift and keep the money. Besides, last I heard you had a new baby on the way."

"For a vampire, you're awfully nice." he winked.

"What makes you think I'm a vampire?" I asked lifting a brow at him in question.

He just winked, "Oh, that's right it's werewolves that consume human flesh."

I stared at him and for a moment I had a mild panic attack.

Did he know?

How did he know?

He burst into laughter a second laughter, "I'm only joking!  Or was a spot on about your extracurricular activites?"

I narrowed my eyes at him.

"According to Marcus, you seemed to have quite the fondness for biting." he said speaking of a mutual friend that I may or may not have toyed with a few times.

Purely sexual of course.

Although, the man was a fine specimen and should I ever choose to murder him...he would make excellent steaks amongst other things.

"And how would you know such things?" I asked.

"He and Dylan are close." he said with a knowing smirk.

"Yes, well perhaps you and your husband should stay out of my 'extracurriculars' as you call them." I said, half joking, half dead serious.

Though in truth, Joe never took anything I said like that to heart.

I was what he like to call "Dangerously Adorable".

I abhored the term but it was endearing affectionate in a way, I suppose.

"Just fetch my meat, butcher boy." I said. "Before I decided to eat you."

"Ooooh, kinky." he teased. "I could probably convince Dylan to threeway. Neither of us have been with a woman in a long time."

I threw my pen at him to make him move and the sound of his laughter could be heard as he ventured into the back.

Moments later he emerged with my cooler and a basket on top.

"What's this?" I asked lifting a brow at the little brown thing. "Do I look like Little Red Riding Hood to you?"

"Yes sometimes you do give me that vibe." he laughed. "But in that basket are two special things for you.  One is a considerable amount of duck eggs and a jar of duck fat.  They're from my mother.  She really appreciated the package you sent her when she was sick.  I know you like to pretend you a cold heartless-"

"Stop talking, you'll ruin my reputation." I said with an unconvincing glare.

"Anyway, she wanted to say thank you." he said.

I made quick work of bidding him goodbye and got out of there.

He was one of the humans that I could tolerate being around for more than a little while...even if he was insufferable at times.

As I walked the streets with the basket on my arm and the cooler rolling behind me I thought of how conflicted I was with the nightlife of the city.

On the one hand, the convenience of having some establishments staying open all hours of the night was incredibly useful.

On the other, it usually meant conversation and I just had no patience for it sometimes.

Which is why it's so ironically cruel that the universe would put me in the path of someone who loved company.

"Hey, what's up, mami?"

I cut my eyes to the left to glare at the little heathen who looked me up and down.

Probably no older than twenty five.

A little younger than I would've liked and not really my type but attractive enough for me to toy with and end my boredom.

And certainly enough to make a meal out of it.

But was he awful enough to eat?

Was he some punk who just like to catcall?

As disgusting as it was .... did he have other motives?

"Darling, there you are!" entered a new, richly accented voice that I was unaccustomed to. "I've been looking everywhere for you."

I turned in time to see a man who was every BIT my type.

Older and classically handsome.

Like an old Hollywood movie star.

Tall and strong with years of aged muscle.

Not the roid rage muscles that the youth were so fascinated with today.

I likened that to the sensation of chewing tire threads.

No...this man...

This man was nothing short of delectable.

And damn him for being a knight in shining armor.

I so would have enjoyed feasting on his flesh.

"Hello, Darling..." I said slowly as he came closer to me and wrapped me in his embraced.

He unusually cool to the touch, not that I minded since I absolutely detested the sensation of being hot and sweaty.

He offered the young man a 'friendly' smile that seemed to say 'back off' behind the mask of politeness and the kid ran off.

"Thank you..." I said pulling away from the man.  "That was very kind of you."

"No problem." he said. "I fear the boy might not have had the purest plans for you in mind."

"And you would know this how?" I asked curiously.

"Because I have been a young man near a beautiful woman before." he smirked.

"So lust justifies rape to you then?" I countered.

"No." he said. "But it can cloud the mind and produce a level of stupidity. He might not have attempted to force himself upon you but he definitely would've touched without your permission."

"As you did when you took me in your arms?" I asked pointedly.

"That's different." he laughed a bit, seemingly shocked by the cheek of it all.

"How? Because you chose to play the Knight in Shining Armor?" I challenged. "Perhaps I was playing Little Red and I was looking for a Big Bad Wolf to eat me up after all."

"Well you would fit the bill. A tantalizing tart with a basket and all." he said, a slight air of irritation oozing from him beneath the mask of charm. "I'm sorry if I have offended you. I only meant-."

"I'm not offended." I cut him off. "I'm just a massive bitch and not much of a people person."

His handsome face pulled up into a grin and he laughed heartily.

"You are a refreshing creature aren't you?" he said.

"You have no idea." I said.  "Good night, sir."

"Dracula." he said extending his hand.

I lifted an eyebrow at him momentarily before leaning forward and whispering my name into his ear before placing a small kiss to his cheek.

"Good night, Dracula." I said.  "Now I must be off before the Big Bad Wolf comes back."

"Perhaps it's the wolf that chased the young pup away." he challenged.

I smirked, "Well, then, Mr. Wolf. If you're clever and hungry enough, you shouldn't have a problem tracking me down then."

I realized that those words were dangerous.

They were provacative and even luring to a stalker.

He could've easily been a psychopath.

But what did I care?

I could either have some fun with him and if he bid me harm....I'd simply have him for breakfast in the morning.

----------------

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