#water and sandwiches for several months now

[thedeviljudges]

-

[edgeray]

mygod that siren Arlecchino fic you did is *chef's kiss* IMMACULATE!!! might i request a continuation, mayhaps? Arle mentioned that she'd follow the reader as they sail, so maybe she misses them and either tries to climb onto the boat or the pier where they're docked to see them again? either hurt/comfort or fluff, the rest is up to you!!! love your work and thank you for fueling my Arlecchino obsession :] also i might pop back in here once in a while, may i be moth anon?

The Sea's Calling Pt. 2

(Arlecchino x Fem! Reader)

A/N - Part 1 link here. Yes, you definitely can be a moth anon! Hi :D. I already added you to the anon list. To other anons that have requested and I haven't gotten to, I do see your requests and if you gave yourself an emoji/name I already added you ^^. Anyways, back to moth anon. <333 I'm so glad you enjoyed my siren Arlecchino fic! As my first request I was kind of nervous about it but I'm glad that you enjoy! I'm also really glad that you sent this request! I did always want to write a part 2 but didn't have the opportunity until now. Thanks moth anon, for the reuqest and for enjoying my works!!  If you couldn't tell, I love the idea of found family pirates. One Piece did this to me. The ending turned out to be self-indulgent, forgive me moth anon ;) Even though it's short, this ended up being one of my favorites. Hope you like this one! Content warnings / info - monster x human, arle is ooc bc she's a siren, fem! reader bc pt.1 has fem! reader, suggestive at the end, 1.2k words

You used to think that the most beautiful thing out there was the sky and its stars–to you, nothing was more mesmerizing than them. They are so alluring despite holding this mystique, and they've guided humans on their naval journeys and inspired all kinds of stories of their origins. The stars were all that kept you company, even on the lonliest and coldest nights.

Now, however, the stars aren't your only company. 

“Guys, I'm going to go back to the ship. Don't wait up on me too much,” you to your fellow pirates as you stand up from the stool. You drop off some extra coins on the baa counter, in order to compensate for the plate that you will be ‘borrowing.’ You pick up the plate of your half-eaten slice of meat pie and sandwich and head towards the exit before one of your crew mates stops you, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder.

“Turning in already? C'mon, stay a little bit. We've got enough money for a few more rounds of beer,” he says with a boisterous laugh. You chuckle lightly but shake your head. 

“No can do, sorry. Got something to do.”

“Uh huh, like your little siren girlfriend?” Another crew member states, her teasing smile widening as you flush. 

“One more? Jackie hasn't finished his story!”

“Let the darned woman go see her darn girlfriend, Goldie,” another gruffed with a shake of his head. 

“Fine, fine, go on ahead. Tch, when will I get my own smoking hot siren girl?” Goldie huffs, and you snort. Likely never, but you don't tell him that.  

“Thanks, I'll be back,” is all you say before rushing out of the door, nearly tipping over the plate before you balance it again. You wave them off and you make your way back to the docks. The walk is both short and long, and each step you take is filled with the excitement that buzzes through you. 

Even after these months, being able to spend time with her feels like bliss, like you have just found treasure. Sometimes, you forget she's a siren, she's ever so endearing and follows you around like a puppy. Oftentimes, when you're on the boat, you talk to her as she lingers by. The night after you first met the siren your crew had banned you from jumping into the waters because you had developed a cold which infected a good chunk of the crew; the cold wasn't severe for anyone but still. Since you can't be in the water, you often just talk to her from the railings and she answers. 

It's only when you're docked when you can finally touch her, but those times come rare. It can take days, sometimes weeks to reach an island to dock at, but when you do, you always take the time to sit by the shore. 

Finally, you arrive at the pier. “Arle?” You call out, and you see a ripple in the water. Grinning, you walk to the ends of one of the docks, setting down the plate a bit away from you. You remove your shoes and set them far away. Perching on the dock, your feet dip into the cold waters and you shiver.

You see something gleam in the corner of your eyes, the familiar shine of her scales. You then remember the food, and you start. “Wait, Arle don't splash–”

Too late. Something erupts from the waters and launches into you, a cold, heavy weight thrusting into your body making you tumble on your back on the dock. Pressed between the wooden planks and the creature that straddles you, you can't help but laugh and raise your hand up to her face, the now drenched food forgotten entirely. 

“Hey gorgeous,” you say as you stroke her cheek gently. She's the most beautiful treasure that you found among the seas. Arlecchino gazes down on you, her red pupils glistering as her arms wrap around your torso. She purrs, little fangs apparent as the tip of her tongue peeks out with her open-mouth smile. 

“Missed you,” is the first thing she says, before she leans her body against you, nuzzling her face into your neck. Your clothes get soaked from her, but you pay no mind. You stroke her wet hair, carding your fingers through her strands before kissing the top of her head. 

“I missed you too. Did you eat recently?” 

Sometimes she'd disappear for a few nights to search for another wandering ship for her meals but she never fails to find your ship again. You haven't seen her for a couple days before you docked her. 

Arlecchino nods. “Human food?” She questions. Her tail flicks, thumping against the wood out of eagerness. Although she enjoys the taste of cooked meats, beef especially, you don't believe it's as nutrition dense as… well, the main source of her diet, and it's hard to serve her cooked meat while on sea due to the issue of storing meat on ships. So, cooked meat has always been a treat for her. 

You nod. “You want to try?” 

She lets out an affirmative purr, and you help her sit upright in your lap. It's always a bit difficult considering she has a tail instead of legs, but she maneuvers her tail to encircle your waist, and you support her back with one of your arms. You silently mourn for your now soggy sandwich as you reach for the plate, using her tail as a flat surface. 

“What is it?” 

“Meat pie and a sandwich.” You take the fork and dig out the meat from the meat pie. Balancing the tender piece of beef on your utensil, you carefully guide it to her mouth. 

“Careful, it's hot. And don't bite the fork this time,” you gently warn her as she eats it. She squirms a bit in your lap, an indicator that she's pleased with the taste. 

“More?” You chuckle, adoring the cute plea in her eyes. 

You scrape out more of the meat until she's eaten all of the pie filling, leaving you to eat the pie crust. You're still peckish, so you start eating your sandwich, but not before fishing out the thick slice of ham from it, and giving it to her. If it meant you could watch the way her expression lights up again forever, then you would endlessly eat ham-less sandwiches and savor every cheese and vegetables sandwiched in between wet bread. 

“Did you like it?” You ask in between chews as she leans her head against your shoulder. She nods, and leans up again to place featherlight kisses on your neck. With the cold droplets of water and her frigid lips, it tickles you and you giggle. So adorable. 

You freeze up when you feel her fangs prick your skin and she looks up to you for permission. Another mating bite? You nod, wordlessly giving her permission, and you suck in a harsh breath as you feel her teeth sink in. Purrs vibrate coarse through her mouth as she pulls away, lapping at the mark and the texture of her tongue invokes a throaty groan from you, your body trembling with pleasure. 

Arlecchino leans away, but in her eyes, hunger burns in them. Her hands take purchase on your hips and she pushes your back against the planks. Her tail unwinds around your torso and instead coils around your ankles, securing them together.  

“H-here?” You question, flushing. Her hands wander lower, the sharp nails trailing lower to your thighs, where faint scratches scatter. 

The night that you first met her, she sang so beautifully for you. Tonight, you repay her back, singing out her name so tastefully. 

[hedgehog-moss]

Pampe escaped her pasture in 2 unprecedented ways this month, and I know she would want me to let everyone know.

First of all I saw her trotting towards the drinking trough the other day and something about her determined ears and the malevolent glint in her eyes didn’t match her wholesome destination, so I stood there watching warily, and—she jumped. I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen it, the trough is like 1.80m long and full of water and it’s sandwiched between a tree and the fence. It forms a natural moat-like barrier, or so I thought. She just jumped the whole length of it. It’s a long jump!! I heard a splash when her back hoof landed in the water, which would have cost her a few points in a llama show jumping event, but still it was impressive, she just did this:

Fortunately, on the other side of the trough is my neighbour’s pasture and I know he doesn’t mind if my llama occasionally squats it in the winter. Still, I make a big show of being displeased when I find Pampe there by herself, so she continues thinking she’s trespassing. I let her graze for a while then I pretend I’m only just noticing her and I'm like gasp, hands-on-hips “PAMPÉRIGOUSTE!! You know you’re not allowed in here!” and she trots back to her own pasture like hehehe and this way I make sure she doesn’t try another, actually-forbidden pasture farther away.

And secondly—I’d already noticed last month that she had discovered how to use her long neck to go over the gate and fiddle with the latch. You’d think the latch would be safe since it’s outside, but no. She hasn’t figured out how to open it yet, but she knows it holds the secret to freedom. And yesterday I forgot to close the latch and she immediately noticed, because apparently she checks several times a day. I looked out the window and saw her like this:

I figured she’d stay near the house and eat some brambles, I didn’t have time to deal with her right now so I leant out the window and shouted COME BACK then considered I had done my best and went back to what I was doing. But then I went outside half an hour later and Pampe was nowhere to be seen—and there was a big plume of smoke on the horizon. Rationally it could only be a distant neighbour burning green waste, but my first thought was “... what has she done now.” I was fully ready to accept that my problem llama was also an arsonist, and pictured myself haltering her and leading her to someone’s door to make her apologise for setting their barn on fire. 

I guess I wouldn’t put it past you to see some crossbars and fence-fixing tools stored in a barn and assume you’re looking at a fence factory, and bomb it.

I know.

[mj-iza-writer]

By request of a few people. Part two of my recent story of water asphyxiation.

Whumpee had found themself on the receiving end of another water boarding treatment.

This time Whumpee's head was forced under water several times for thirty second intervals.

Whumpee was tied up in the cold basement again.

They were not cold though, they were fuming... bitter hatred for Whumper was keeping them nice and toasty down there.

The original plan was to kill Whumper in their sleep, but now, weeks later, death just seemed too easy for Whumper. They needed to pay.

The next day, Whumper came down, grinning ear to ear.

"Only a day or so before my big trip. You will be kept down here while I'm gone for a good part of the month. You better hope I decide to leave you some food down here", Whumper knelt down, "or maybe I should leave not quite enough so you'll will have to ration it. Are you even that smart?"

"I hate you. I hope you die", Whumper spat.

"My such a nasty little thing you've become since you found out about your rescue fails. So have you decided you have nothing left to live for, so why behave anymore", Whumper smirked, "should I give you another lesson?"

Whumper grabbed a fistful of hair and started to drag Whumpee to the stairs.

Going up, Whumpee studied Whumper's steps. As they lifted up a foot to the next step, Whumpee yanked back and caused Whumper to stumble.

By instinct to grab something, Whumper let go of Whumpee but was already tumbling down the steps. Whumpee raced down as fast as possible, so they wouldn't get crushed.

Whumper landed on the last steps and didn't move.

Whumpee timidly inched closer to Whumper. This was it, they were either going to be killed, or they had this one chance at freedom.

Whumper seemed to be unconscious.

Not missing a second, Whumpee turned and tried to fish the keys from Whumper's pocket for their handcuffs.

"This is almost impossible", Whumpee struggled, but finally, they successfully found the keys.

Whumpee struggled to drag and role Whumper's body to the far parts of the basement. There were shackles cemented to the floor and wall their.

"Why are you so heavy", Whumpee grunted, "is that why I don't get to eat? You eat it all."

Finally, Whumper was shackled.

Whumpee removed everything from Whumper. Phone, any keys. They finally decided it would be easier to just strip Whumper down to their under wear.

"Just like you did to me when I came here", Whumpee grinned as they cut away the clothes with a knife they found.

Whumpee laughed as Whumper seemed to be coming to consciousness.

"If you'll excuse me... I'm starving", Whumpee smirked, then hurried up the stairs.

Whumpee sat at the table with two freshly made sandwiches and a pan full of box mac and cheese.

They stuffed their face with food. It had been days since Whumper allowed them to eat. Whumpee chugged bottles of water and other things in Whumper's fridge.

"Whumpee get your fucking ass down here", Whumper yelled.

Whumpee almost ran and hid, but remembered they had the upper hand now.

They slank down the steps and looked across the room at Whumper.

"Unlock me this instant.... you are in so much trouble", Whumper yelled.

"No", Whumpee whispered.

"Let me go", Whumper watched them turn, "you better not leave me down here", Whumper pulled on the chains. They knew they didn't have a chance. Those chains were made to last. The key was the only way out.

Whumpee smiled as they stepped out of view.

"Whumpee", Whumper yelled again.

"I'm going to finish eating", Whumpee called down.

"You better not be eating my food."

The door slammed.

Whumpee came down later with a bucket.

"What are you doing?", Whumper frowned at them while they walked past to the shower.

"You have it coming Master", Whumpee stated snarkly.

"I'm going to kill you when I get out of this", Whumper pulled at the chains again.

"Well, I guess I should try to keep you like that then", Whumpee smiled as they came out.

Whumper could hear water running.

"I've already texted your friends to cancel your trip. I told them to send pictures. You ruined my life, I plan on returning the favor", Whumpee glared.

"Look, I'm sorry, you made yourself clear. If you let me out, I'll forgive you. We will pretend this didn't happen and move on with our lives", Whumper was becoming quite worried.

Whumpee scoffed, "you've had me here for so long, tortured me, ruined my entire life. Now that I have the upper hand, you want to try to make an agreement. I'm not going back. You will get to feel how I've felt", Whumpee went to check on the bucket, "starting with this."

Whumpee struggled as they carried out the heavy bucket of water.

"No no no", Whumper yelled.

Whumpee laughed evilly as they tossed the water on Whumper.

Whumper gasped and looked up at Whumpee with anger.

"You look like a drowned rat", Whumpee snickered.

"You've had your fun, but there will have to be a time where you will have to let me out. You'll run out of food, or something will happen", Whumper shook water away from their head, "I strongly suggest you take my offer of forgiveness. Untie me, you will be lightly punished, but we will forget this ever happened."

"No", Whumpee smirked, "I'm having to much fun. I haven't had this much fun in years."

"Oh, when I get out, oh, you are in for it", Whumper warned as Whumpee walked to the stairs, "mark my words."

Whumpee gulped as they reached the top step, "they're right, I might run out of food. What will I do then?"

Whumpee tiredly yawned, "maybe that will be my issue to figure out tomorrow."

Whumpee slept in Whumper's bed that night, it was so warm and cozy.

Whumper shivered in the basement.

"It's colder than I thought it was down here", Whumper's teeth chattered. They were still soaked.

"It won't be long, they will have to let me out of here", Whumper frowned, "I uh, may reconsider keeping them down here though. Especially being wet."

It was morning. Whumpee looked at Whumper's phone.

"This might be a long shot", Whumpee reached for it and started looking up how to videos.

How to order food... How to adult... How to survive a kidnapping.... What to do after you've been kidnapped.

"None of this makes sense", Whumpee turned the phone off.

Whumpee contemplated calling the police, but they grew angry again when they heard Whumper moving downstairs.

"They need to pay", Whumpee threatened.

As they walked past a calendar, they noticed just how much time Whumper would have been gone on their vacation.

A devious thought came to mind.

"It wouldn't kill you to give me food" Whumper glared as Whumpee came down the stairs, "if you let me out, I won't water board and you leave you down here anymore. I definitely see how unfair that was. I need to eat and tak..."

"You didn't feed me for three days. It hasn't even been twenty-four hours yet", Whumpee frowned.

"Yeah, well, I'm... I'm sorry", Whumper mumbled.

"Now you're sorry", Whumpee stormed closer and in blind anger slapped Whumper across the face.

Whumpee stared dumbly at Whumper, they were panicking on the inside. Whumper's glare pierced them deeply.

Something about the slap felt good though. They did it again and again and again.

"Are you done yet?", Whumper grunted.

"No", Whumpee sobbed, "everything you've done to me. Everything I wanted to be and do when I grew up just gone."

Whumpee thought back to the calendar.

"You know, I thought of something. You had a vacation planned. Your friends are gone, you're off of work for however long, and neighbors also know", Whumpee grinned evilly, "no one will think anything of you missing until I had my fun."

Whumper sighed, "Whumpee, you are turning into me. I know I've done terrible things, and you've revealed to me how they feel. I am truly honestly sorry. This isn't you though, you are not meant to be like this."

"Shut up", Whumpee slapped Whumper again. Tears streamed down their face, "you've done so much to me... you deserve all of this."

Whumpee stormed away and up the stairs.

Whumpee lay in Whumper's bed crying. They wanted their parents... their life back.

Whumpee glanced at the window. They were never allowed to look out the windows. Whumper didn't want to take a chance of Whumpee recognizing the neighborhood. Their family lived only a few blocks away.

Whumpee slowly crept to the window and opened the curtain carefully.

"Sunlight", Whumpee felt the warmth, and they looked around, "it feels so wonderful."

Whumpee grabbed Whumper's keys and wallet and went outside. With a deep breath, they left the property.

Down the sidewalk a little, they were overwhelmed with familiarity. They took off running. They knew this place.

They saw their old home in the distance.

"Mom... dad", Whumpee ran past the gate and to the door. They knocked loudly.

Someone came to the door that Whumpee didn't recognize.

"Can I help you?", they made a concerned face.

"Uhm is the Polaris family here. I'm sorry it's been a long time, I don't recognize you" Whumpee asked enthusiastically.

"They moved about a year and a half ago", the person frowned, "are you okay? Should I call someone?"

"No no, uhm I'm sorry to bother you, thankyou for helping me", Whumpee tried to hide their quivering lip.

Whumpee stormed down the stairs carrying a knife.

"What are you going to do with that?", Whumper scooted back in concern.

"You ruined everything", Whumpee waved the knife around angrily, "my family moved away. I know how close I was to being saved. Now they're gone, and I have no idea where", Whumpee yelled.

"Whumpee don't get any closer", Whumper tried to position their body to stand up, but everything was numb from sitting in the one position the chains allowed for.

In a final attempt, Whumper gave a quick shove to Whumpee when they got closer.

Whumpee fell to the ground, and the knife fell to their own arm.

"Ahh!", Whumpee screamed as blood came pulling out of their arm.

"Whumpee let me help you", Whumper tried to get closer and pull their arms apart.

"No don't touch me", Whumpee cowarded away and ran up the stairs.

Whumper sighed but noticed that in their haste, Whumpee left the keys on the floor.

Whumper looked at them and grinned.

As quietly as possible, they stretched out to the limits of the shackles and kicked the key back toward them.

"Whumpee Whumpee Whumpee", Whumper chuckled, "this is where you let your amateur show."

Whumper managed to wiggle around and unlock everything.

They slowly limped up the stairs. Still sore from being knocked down. Their body shaken from lack of food and their medicine they needed.

Whumper carefully opened the door and listened for movement.

"They're in the bathroom", Whumper whispered.

They tiptoed to the room. Went inside and slammed the door behind them.

Whumpee turned quickly. Fear and panic on their face. They felt their pockets.

"You left the keys you idiot", Whumper grinned, "sit down on the toilet, now. I already know you don't know how to bandage that properly."

Whumpee tried to attack Whumper but was stopped instantly.

"Ow ow ow", Whumpee winced as Whumper lifted their arms behind their back.

"Stop freaking fighting me", Whumper whispered in their ear, "I'm not trying to hurt you. I want to get this bleeding stopped so I can go get my medicine and eat something. I would have let you keep going until you realized I had the keys, but I need my medicine."

Whumpee stopped squirming, "medicine... oh crap."

"Oh yes", Whumper nodded, "now sit on the damn toilet and behave."

Whumpee fell forward a little when Whumper released them. They rubbed the ache in their arm while they sat down.

"What are you going to do to me?", Whumpee frowned as Whumper came back with towels and bandages.

"What would you like me to do to you", Whumper questioned, "what punishment do you think you deserve from making me fall down the stairs and keeping me hostage in the basement?"

"I could make you cookies", Whumpee looked down sheepishly as they watched Whumper bandage the cut.

"My sugars are out of wack, and you want to make me cookies", Whumper frowned, "are you trying to kill me?"

"Would it work?", Whumpee looked deep into Whumper's eyes.

"Nope, just make me sick, but you'd still be stuck with me", Whumper stood, "nice attempt though. All of this was quite eye opening."

Whumpee's stomach grumbled just then.

"Yeah, I'm feeling about like that myself", Whumper grunted, "how about we order food in."

"We?", Whumpee made a strange face.

"We", Whumper nodded, "I know you have my wallet. Where is it?"

Whumpee was tied to the table for dinner mostly to make sure they didn't attack Whumper again.

Whumper watched as Whumpee quickly scarfed the food down.

"What, are you afraid I'm gonna take it?", Whumper tried to joke.

Whumpee looked at them sadly and nodded.

Whumper frowned, "I guess poor choice of words."

Whumpee nodded again.

Whumpee struggled against the ropes, "why do I have to be tied up?"

"Because I don't need you to attack me again", Whumper pointed out, "I'm still sore from the stairs, and my medicine hasn't kicked in yet. You'll remain tied up until I feel comfortable that you won't try to kill me again."

Whumpee huffed, "I still hate you, but I feel bad I forgot your medicine."

"That's fair. I know I made your life hell for the last couple of years, and I did horrible things to you out of glee. I guess that momentary power exchange helped me realize how I was treating you. Every time you did something to me, I had a moment of realization. I would like to keep you here still, I guess can we just remake our relationship to more of an employer/ employee role instead of this mess we have already."

Whumpee looked down, "so you want everything that I went through to be forgotten. You get to live happily while I still have to live through the trauma you caused me. I'm still stuck here, am I not."

Whumper frowned.

"And because I have nowhere else to go. All of my hopes and dreams taken from me, you get this slave", Whumpee looked up with a glare.

"What did you want to be when you grew up", Whumper leaned back in the chair, "you've mentioned that a few times."

"I-I wanted to be a traveler. I wanted to get away from my family and travel. I had so many destinations in mind. Europe, Asia, Africa, South America.... I even wanted to see the North Pole", Whumpee smiled at the memories.

"North pole?", Whumper repeated.

"It was a childhood thing. Christmas was always the best part of the year in my home. No one argued or anything. It was peaceful. I always wanted to thank Santa for making Christmas nice for me. That was always my wish at least", Whumpee sniffled.

Whumper sighed, "was your family abusive towards you."

Whumpee looked down and nodded.

"Then why did you want to be rescued by them?", Whumper sighed, "you wanted them to come back for you."

"Everyone wants to be rescued Master and it didn't necessarily have to be them rescuing me", Whumpee smiled weakly.

"I see", Whumper nodded then clicked their tongue on their teeth in thought, "I want to make it up to you, in all honesty it scared me that you had all of this figured out. I think you scared me straight. I don't know how I'm going to do that though."

Whumper and Whumpee sat in silence.

"You know I was thinking... how long ago did your family move away?", Whumper stood up and started to clear the table.

"The person said a year and a half", Whumpee frowned.

"They didn't wait long after your announcement. It almost seemed they gave up and moved away... not much remorse", Whumper frowned.

"You're trying to get into my head and I won't allow it", Whumpee glared, "you'll make me feel comfortable, then you'll punish me. You'll get back at me in time for doing acting out "

"Whatever you say Whumpee", Whumper sighed, "Im ready for bed", Whumper yawned, "not exactly comfortable down there."

"I know", Whumpee mumbled indignantly.

Whumpee was tied up and layed on the floor of Whumper's room.

"Seems you made yourself comfortable in my bed", Whumper frowned at the tossed sheets and blankets.

Whumpee nodded, "I haven't slept in a bed in years. I-it was comfy a-and warm."

"Ymhmm" Whumper turned the light off.

Whumpee laid in the dark for a few minutes before they allowed some tears to fall.

Whumper sat up after hearing a few sniffles.

"You need to go to sleep", Whumper turned the light on and looked at Whumpee. "I'm allowing you to lay in my room as the carpet is softer. What else do you want from me?"

"You don't get it", Whumpee yelled, "you don't get it. Do you know how much I went through by your hands? I finally get some ounce of freedom, and it's gone already. My family goes on thinking I hated them. I'm alone, and you think laying me on your floor is some sort of reward."

Whumper frowned... normally this was where Whumpee would be getting kicked, but Whumper didn't know what to do now. They had felt what Whumpee felt, and they were honestly a little nervous of just how angry Whumpee had gotten and how much damage could have been done."

Whumper got out of bed, and walked over to Whumpee.

Whumpee tried to fold into themself to protect their stomach.

They looked up weirdly when Whumper tried to pick them up.

"Man I don't know what I hurt falling down the stairs, but I'm not going to be able to move you around as easily as I did before", Whumper frowned.

Finally, Whumper got up enough strength to heave Whumpee up and toss them into the bed.

Whumper took several large gulps of air and leaned on the bed tiredly.

"What are you doing to me now?", Whumpee glared.

Whumper sighed as they stood up and walked to the opposite side of the bed, "just shut up and go to sleep."

Whumper tossed the blanket on top of themself and Whumpee.

"You're allowing me to sleep here?", Whumpee frowned as Whumper turned the light off.

"For right now... until I figure out something else to do", Whumper turned over, "I'm too tired to deal with you. Now go to sleep."

In the morning, Whumpee woke up to Whumper picking them up.

"What... wait?", Whumpee thrashed, "I'm sorry... I'm sorry."

Whumper struggled to hold them up and finally let Whumpee fall back to the bed.

"What the heck... you idiot? Why are you fighting me so much?"

"You were going to water board me or something... I know it. I got too comfortable, and... and... and you were going to punish me now", Whumpee whimpered, "I'm sorry... I know I shouldn't have done it... I just, I just wanted...", Whumpee looked down as tears fell to their cheeks.

Whumper frowned as they watched Whumpee, "okay... okay... calm down. I didn't know I ruined you this much", Whumper knelt beside the bed.

"What did you think would happen after treating someone the way you treated me?", Whumpee sobbed.

"I guess I never considered it. I never thought of the end result, I only lived in the moment", Whumper reached for a tissue and wiped at Whumpee's face, "I know it hurt you... that I hurt you. I was disconnected from that realization. I never meant to hurt you, that wasn't my original plan with bringing you here. I wanted you to do housework for me, yeah, but I think being trapped down in the basement gave me time to think. I want to make it up to you if you'll allow me."

Whumpee sniffled a little more, "I don't think you will be able to make it up to me any time soon", Whumpee looked down, "I'm not ready to forgive you for everything you did to me."

"I understand that, but I can work toward it", Whumper frowned, "will you let me at least try to do that. You have to at least promise me you won't attempt to kill me if I untie you. You make me a little warry right now."

Whumpee thought quietly for a few moments before nodding.

"Okay", Whumper nodded back before reaching up and undoing the knotts.

"So uh... how exactly do you plan on making it up to me?", Whumpee rubbed their sore wrist.

"Well you said you enjoyed traveling and wanted to go places. I also enjoy traveling, though I don't plan on going to the North Pole. We can go on trips. We can learn more about each other", Whumper smirked, "I can't let you leave though."

Whumpee frowned at Whumper and was about to yell.

"You have nowhere to go now, and I saw my search history on my phone", Whumper stood, "I don't think you'd last long out their."

Whumpee blushed and looked away.

"I know that's my fault though", Whumper nodded, "I'll teach how to adult, and be able to travel. If there is ever a time you get freed from me you can at least be a little self-reliant out there. This world is a mess though."

"I'll agree on one condition", Whumpee looked toward the window.

Whumper looked at the window and saw it was opened.

"I don't want to be trapped in here anymore, I want to be able to see the outside again. You can set rules, I'm fine with serving a master as long as they're fair to me, but I don't want to be left inside anymore", Whumpee frowned, "and no more water boarding me."

"No I won't do that to you anymore, and yes we can consider some rules so you can go outside. Sound fair", Whumper stood, "plus now that I'm aware you enjoy traveling I can take you on trips instead of my idiot friends."

Whumpee looked up at them and grinned.

"Okay let's go get breakfast", Whumper turned.

Whumpee jumped from the bed and hurried to follow Whumper.

"Breakfast sounds good", Whumpee whispered.

By special request of: @3-2-whump , @defire @fa1rie

Taglist. As always please let me know if you want to be added or taken off of the list. It's not a problem at all.

@villainsandheroes @the-beasts-have-arrived

@sacredwrath @porschethemermaid

@monarchthefirst @generic-whumperz

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@notpeppermint @cyborg0109

@idontreallyexistyet @painfulplots

@whumpbump @everythingsscary

@skittles-the-whumpee @expressionless-fr

@theforeverdyingperson @legendarydelusiongoatee

@candleshopmenace @whumpanthems

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@starfields08000 @a-living-canvas

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@3-2-whump @risk606

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@whumprince @kaz-of-crows

@mis-graves @decaffeinatedtimetraveler94

@sausages-things @clevah-girlboss

@isikedmyself878 @daffyduckcommittedtaxfraud

@valravnthefrenchie

[mukumukunomi]

From: Your Heart To: Mine

cw: Luffy x fem!reader, romantic pining, long-distance relationship, Wano arc spoilers?, loose cannon compliance (follows cannon loosely).

wc: 2,394k

a/n: Last fic of the year! Mainly just me putting a bunch of ideas into a quick story and will probably have a few more parts in the future. I had several hc's of Luffy being in a relationship with someone far away and someone who he didn't ask to join his crew, and why that might be. And then I had the idea of long-distance penpals and protective!Luffy reunions so it just spiraled from there. Hope you enjoy it, Happy New Year! :)

Part 1

Part 2 (TBD)

❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦

Luffy shifts in anticipation. “Where is it?”

Dark orbs scan the horizon, mouth chewing loudly on a sandwich as his legs swing over the side of the crow’s nest. It’s a relatively calm day on the Grand Line. The Thousand Sunny’s hull breaks the azure waves as they crest, leaving a wake of churned water behind. Their trail is swiftly swept away by the tides into a stretch of blue on blue. A blurred line where the sea meets the sky. It is only broken by the speckle of fluffy white clouds that lazily trek above him.

In other words, the perfect day for a News Coo to appear.

The bird’s last appearance is fuzzy in his memory. Was it last week? Last month? When was the last time his bounty had gone up? The fact he doesn’t remember concerns him because it means there’s been no news from you in a long while. He only pays attention when there’s something from you.

He yawns, staring up at the sun currently hidden behind a large cloud. The days seem to stretch longer without you. Your island may be far away now, but he can almost feel your presence as if right beside him. What were you doing? What was the last tasty thing you ate? Did you spill three or four bottles of ink today?

Not knowing is its own form of torture. It’s hard to not miss you in the moments where something strikes him with your familiarity. Blue skies remind him of your little blue house on the island. The stars remind him of the lake. The patch of grass that spans Sunny’s deck reminds him of your garden. And Robin’s books remind him of the papers and ink littered across your kitchen table. 

There was no way of knowing then how those small letters in your handwriting would become such a crucial part of his life. In a way, they became points of time where his adventure reconnected to yours. Snippets of your life he would have never known about if you hadn’t logged it for him to see. 

Flapping wings catches his attention as a beak snatches the sandwich from his hand.

“Hey!”

The large gull swoops downwards, landing awkwardly on deck. It narrowly misses hitting Brook, who’s tuning his violin strings, and swerves over to where Nami’s lounging on the deck under an umbrella with Sanji serving beverages. It swallows the half-eaten sandwich whole just as Luffy lands with a thud next to it.

“Give it back!” He yells, grabbing the bird by the neck and shaking it. It doesn’t discourage the creature to hack it up in the slightest.

Nami’s annoyed gaze meets his as she fans herself in the heat. She fishes into her pocket for a moment before extending her hands towards them in a gesturing motion. The flash of something shiny focuses the bird’s attention. “Bring it here, Luffy.”

He grumbles, but obliges. Nami slots the berry into the bag around the News Coo’s neck, then holds her hand out expectantly. The gull drops the newspaper into her open palm. Nami doesn’t retract, leveling a stare at the bird. “Anything else?”

It shakes its head.

The redhead’s frown deepens as she sets the newspaper in her lap. She sits up, flicking another golden coin into the air almost threateningly. “Are you sure? Those letters with the star symbol on them? You didn’t drop it, did you?”

The bird reaffirms its previous gesture with a vigorous shake of its head under her intense glare. It takes Luffy a moment to realize what exactly it means.

No letter.

He drops the bird abruptly as disappointment bubbles inside him. The avian lets out a yelp as Luffy turns to walk dejectedly away, missing the way his navigator’s face falls as he does so. 

“Listen here,” Nami’s voice echoes behind him, now shaking the bird in the same way Luffy had, “You’re going to deliver this letter to Starcleaved Island. Expedited. And don’t return until you bring back news about our friend.”

Luffy registers the sound of several coins before the bird takes off above him again. He feels limbless as he climbs up the stairs towards the back of the boat, drifting his way into the library filled with dusty books and laid out sketches of archeological sites. Robin smiles gently at him as he sinks into a chair next to her. “Can I help you, captain?”

“Oi, Robin, can I see Y/N’s letters again?”

Robin clearly wants to say something, but at the last moment turns to grab a familiar blue leather tome from the shelf behind her. He gently thumbs to the most recent entry, earmarked and already worn from how many times he’s turned to it. Luffy takes a moment to appreciate the way the letter is adhered to the page of the book, obviously done with care in the experienced hands of his archeologist. Without Robin, these letters would have probably ended up lost. It had been her idea to keep them in something more sustainable. 

But the thought is fleeting as his eyes are once again drawn to the top of the last entry:

Luffy, It’s been a long while since you and the crew left. How is everyone? Are they still eating well? You haven’t eaten all of the food I gave you already have you? What adventures have you had since we last spoke?  I’m doing much better now that I’ve gotten over that nasty cold I caught right at the start of the season. Please thank Chopper for the medicinal recipe he sent with your letter last time. Oh! And Sanji’s soup recipe! They were lifesavers! Though, I do wish I were eating it with you. Like when you were here. We had so much fun. We couldn’t keep Zoro and Franky from the alcohol. And Usopp did that weird dance to Brook’s song. Do you remember that? Hopefully, Nami was able to use that note I made. Forgery is all fun and games until you actually have to convince people the documents you write are real. But we know Nami is sneaky, and I’m the best forger there is. There’s no way my handiwork is discernible. You can’t tell the real from my fakes. I thought a lot about what you said. I think maybe you’re right.  I’ve heard Dressarosa has become a really beautiful place after all the unrest there. (Although, I wonder who’s responsible for that?) Maybe I can extend my business further out into the world. Smuggled goods receipt, fake invitations, not-so-deceased wills…my hand itches just thinking about it. Sincerely yours, Y/N P.S Your handwriting has gotten better. Robin must be really patient to get you to sit for more than five minutes. P.P.S You know, I still haven’t been able to get that stain out from where you spilled the red ink. You owe me a new rug.

He notes the date, questioning eyes meeting Robin’s. “How long has it been since we got this letter?”

Robin hums in thought. “About three months.”

No letter from you in almost three months. It wasn’t like you at all. Not with all the previous letters filling up more than half the book already. 

“We’re all worried.” Robin says gently, comfortingly.

 He speaks slowly, eyes not leaving the page. “Y/N can take care of herself. She’s strong.”

He’d already accepted the risks when parting separate ways. He was on his own adventure, and you were on yours. That fact doesn’t stop the ache you leave behind. 

“She would have loved to come with us.” The raven-haired woman muses, flipping to the page of her text where she had left off. It’s both a statement and a question that’s left unanswered as the room goes quiet. 

But Robin's words stick like glue to his mind in the silence. It’s rare for him to reflect on past decisions. He’s not the type to regret. “I know.”

He knew not extending an offer to you had hurt you. Knew how much you would have loved to come. But it hadn’t felt right at the time. Joining his crew wasn’t something you needed. Not in the same way as the rest of the crew. They had been nobodies to the rest of the world. Adrift with no sense of purpose. He had seen their potential and felt their worth through their grit. Each of his current shipmates needed this crew, and this crew only, to realize that. Luffy sensed you already had determined your purpose long ago without them. 

Still, he did need you. In what capacity, he didn’t know. He vowed that once he became the King of the Pirates, he’d circle back down the Grand Line to see you. Perhaps, he’d figure out this feeling in his chest that he hadn’t been able to shake since leaving Starcleaved Island.

***

Well, this was splendid.

You huff in annoyance as you sit in the dingy cell, footsteps loudly clanging from the deck above. It was damp and dark here. You didn't know how long you hadn't showered, nor the last time you saw the sun. The only light source came from the gaps between the floorboards. A slit beam of it shone directly on you, and you savor the sun’s warm comfort as you muse about your predicament.

Starcleaved Island was a peaceful respite on the Grand Line, famed mainly for its phenomena of meteor showers. Boats would go out into the middle of a large lake, which spanned nearly a quarter of the center of the island’s mass, to sight see the recurring celestial objects that streaked across the sky. It was told that once, long ago, a meteor fell and 'cleaved' a hole in the center of the island, which eventually became the lake. You had grown up standing next to that body of water, wishing on those shooting stars, for as long as you could remember. You and your little blue house next to it.

Everything changed when they came. When he came. When Luffy appeared on the shores of the lake next to your house. Half-drowned and soaking to the bone on that brisk morning. You had gotten your first look of one of the most infamous pirates of the sea, besides the ones on wanted posters.

He had been adorable. Was still adorable to you.

You feel yourself flush as the thought permeates your reminiscing. Goosebumps unrelated to the dampness in the air radiate along your skin as you recall his smile and boyish charm. You miss him. There wasn’t a moment since his departure that you didn’t. There was something gravitating to his existence, as if the entire world centered itself on him. He was frightening, quite frankly. All that power and influence in the hands of an idiot. 

Of course each new wanted poster of that adorable idiot went on your fridge for you to ogle. You couldn't resist.

But how in the world did you get such rotten luck? You had just saved up a month’s worth of expenses for travel for a new business venture to Dressarosa when these pirates raided your hometown. And taken you, unfortunately.

The wayward thoughts are broken up by the sound of something clanging against the metal bars of your cell. Narrow eyes glance at you from the other side, a sneer on the pirate’s lips as he spits a wad of chewing tobacco onto the floor. “Girlie, you feel like talkin’ yet?”

You frown, crossing your arms.

The pirate grumbles something under his breath. “Two months of silence isn’t going to bring you back to that shoddy little island we found you at.”

You feel the emotion bubble in your chest, just managing to swallow the sob that wants to tear its way from your throat. That was your shoddy little island. How dare he take you from it?

The man sticks his pinkie-finger in his ear and wiggles it. “Perhaps you’ll talk when we tell ya where we are. Ever heard of Wano, girlie?”

You blink. Wano? The samurai country? From what you understand, they were mostly closed off from the rest of the world. It was at least a three month's travel away from home!

“We’ve got our weapon materials to sell. And unless you want to join the fishes, you’ll forge those documents to say we’re a spice ship.”

You felt your lip curl in disgust. Weapons for what? “How do you even know I-”

“Your bag’s filled with all kinds of unfinished notes for entry into Dressarosa. Quite good.”

You curse. Discretion was gone, it seemed. “I don’t extend my services to scum.”

The brute simply smiles at the rasp of your voice. “I-”

“Captain!”

The man turns at the sound of the voice coming from the deck above. He cranes his neck upwards at the helmsman. Sucking air through the gap in his teeth, the captain calls wearily. “Whaddya’ want!?”

The helmsman’s voice echoes down loudly over the sound of the waves against the hull. “The barrelman spotted a pirate ship crashed on the shore where we were to drop anchor.”

“So what?!”

“The Jolly Roger…it’s the flag of the Strawhats, sir!” 

Your heart skips a beat. The Sunny was here?

The captain blinks with mouth agape as he processes the information. “We…” The man scratches at the scruff on his chin, “We’ll go around it. We’ll pull into port instead.”

“But, sir, without the documents there will be suspicion…”

Your voice comes out louder than you intend. “I’ll do it.”

The captain turns to you quizzically. You clear your throat. “You have example documents, right? I can do it in an hour…unless you broke the inks in my bag.”

There’s suspicion in the man’s gaze. “Really?”

“I don’t work for free. I have one condition: You let me walk away once we dock.”

A laugh that sounds like a pitiful cough erupts from him. “Ha! You know what you’re asking for? If you stay here you won’t be able to leave! You’ll never leave Wano’s borders alive!”

It takes all your strength not to shake anxiously. “Do we have a deal?”

The captain shakes his head as he walks away, chuckling. “Your funeral, girlie.”

You watch him ascend to the deck, letting out a sigh of relief once the trapdoor is shut. Your palms press gently onto your eyeballs as you try to fight the wave of nausea rolling over you.

Sunny was here. Luffy was here.

You had to get away from these people quickly and find him. No matter what it took.

[yourmidnightlover]

timeless - ch. 3

pairing: bucky barnes x fem!reader

summary: in a flashback chapter, we see what it was like for reader and bucky before and during deployment, up until they were captured by what they didn’t know was hydra.

warnings: canon typical violence, talk of war, wounds, little knowledge of how deployment/war works on my end lol, affectionate/flirty bucky, if i missed anything PLEASE let me know!

w/c: 2.3k+

a/n: HIIII! another chapter that’s not two months out… who am i???? this chapter is definitely the last calm before the storm… expect either the next or the one after that to be very very angsty. i haven’t decided if i want to do the next chapter in current time/civil war time or a flashback as well, so if you have a preference please let me know!

<- chapter 2 ~ chapter 4 ->

two days before deployment

two weeks ago you found out you were being deployed as a nurse for the 107th with your best friend. your uniform came in a week ago. now, it was only two days until you would go to europe to try and ensure the safety of the men who were fighting for your freedom.

especially the man you called your best friend.

buky wasn’t nervous. well, not about himself, at least. he worked you twice as hard during your workouts, demanding longer runs and harder punches until he was satisfied with your progress. he pushed you to your limits and helped you cool off, running you hot baths and cooking you dinner when you were too sore to move.

although you loved having all of his attention and devotion, it had been a strenuous two weeks.

“the stark expo?” you questioned as he called out to you from the kitchen. you were in the shower, scrubbing away after another long workout as he was throwing together some sandwiches.

“yea!” you could hear his smile. “i’ll go in my uniform, you could even throw yours on. you know i would definitely love to see that,” you rolled your eyes at his comment, knowing he was merely joking around.

“maybe in your dreams.”

“you know it,” he knocked on the bathroom door to alert you of his presence. “i think it’ll be a nice last outing for steve and us. one last hoorah before… everything. one more good memory.”

“you say that as if it’ll be our last, jamie!” you turned the water off and wrapped a towel around your body before yanking the door open. “we’ll be back. between the two of us, we’re unstoppable, right?”

he turned to look at you, taking a deep breath before continuing, “i know, but it’ll be different, y’know?” he let his hand find your wet hair, laughing at your dripping wet state. “you should dry off, the food’s ready.”

“thank you, my chef,” you scampered into the guest room (your room, really) and quickly got dressed.

the truth is, bucky was scared shitless. sure, he was worried he wouldn’t be coming home once it’s all over. he was scared he would get whatever ptsd was. he was frightened about the possibility of him getting severely injured. but the thing that was debilitating him the most was the fact that he might not be able to protect you.

he’s always prided himself on being able to tell when you’re within a 3 mile radius of danger, guiding you out of harm's way as soon as he realises. with you literally going into a war zone, you will be surrounded by danger. gunshots, grenades, hand to hand combat, everything that could possibly harm you, you would encounter firsthand. that is what was the most frightening part of this whole deployment situation.

for you, you were simply scared to lose bucky. you couldn’t give two shits about what would happen to yourself. bucky had a family here, his best friend, he had so much. you just wanted to make sure that he would be able to make it back to all of it.

in a perfect world, the both of you would have made it back together.

-

“i knew you’d look amazing,” bucky cheered as you stood by your door, clad in your uniform and feeling tacky as ever.

“i dunno if i actually want to wear this out, jamie,” you pulled at the neckline, neglecting to look at him in return. “feels… weird.”

“c’mon, darlin’ you look great,” you felt his hands reach for yours, breaking your attention on yourself and diverting it to him.

boy, was he one to talk about you in your uniform when he looks so wonderful in his own. from his hat to the buttons adorning his cufflinks, he looked to die for. so much so, that your breath actually caught in your throat.

“woah there, y/n/n,” he smirked knowingly. “make sure to breathe for me. can't be leaving without you, darlin’.”

you rolled your eyes and shoved his shoulder, “so arrogant.”

but he’s not wrong… no matter how much you wish he was, he always seemed to truly know what made you tick, and he knew how to tease you from it, too.

he also knew how beautiful he was. there was no way he didn’t with how many girls constantly ogle him as he simply walks the sidewalks with you or steve. in school, you would always see how the girls gravitated towards bucky. you couldn’t blame them, either. he’s tall, dark, and handsome with pretty blue eyes that were like whirlpools, sucking you in and making you look stupid for trying to not get sucked in to the spiral.

truth be told, you were jealous when he would entertain these other girls. he would take them dancing or to fancy restaurants, sometimes telling you and steve all about it upon his return.

sure, you were often entertained by other guys back in school, but if you were honest with yourself, you knew they were just distractions. they never compared to bucky.

all bucky would ever do was complain about your poor choice of distractions. if you went on a date to the fair, your date never took you on enough rides. if you went dancing then your partner must’ve had two left feet in bucky’s eyes.

no matter what went on, bucky found a way to make it seem like you had terrible taste in men, so somewhere along the way, you’d kinda stopped trying. besides, it’s not like those dates ever truly meant anything to you anyway.

“you know you love it,” he traded your hands for your waist as he tugged you into his chest. “i still don’t like the idea of you goin’ in, even if you’ll be goin’ with me.”

“well,” you placed a hand on his shoulder, “we still can’t change anything about it. we’ll be alright, jamie. we’ll be alright.”

with that, you left to meet steve at the expo with another date bucky’s trying to set him up on. steve was pouting, as usual. apparently he had been denied entry into the army by yet another station. soon, all of this would catch up to him and by the time it does, the police would be right on his trail too.

“i can do it; they’re asking everyone to enlist, for everyone to help however they can, yet they won’t let me try!” steve went on about how frustrating his situation was.

bucky threw his arm over the smaller man, “they’re just lookin’ out for you, punk. you know that. now, you keep trying to enlist how you are, you’re gonna end up gettin’ in bigger trouble than usual.”

“doesn’t make it any less frustrating, jerk,” he elbowed bucky’s gut that he was positioned under.

“boys, boys,” you sighed as the two finally stopped shoivng at one another. “i would like to spend my last night here not talking about what we’re about to go into, please.”

it was extremely crowded, body’s shoulder to shoulder trying to see what howard’s newest mystical yet scientific creation would be.

as some douchebag that was nearly a foot taller than you manuevered to stand right in front of you, bucky bent down to your level, “wanna get on my shoulders?”

“jamie, you’re gonna drop me on my face!” you chuckled at his suggestion.

“ouch,” he threw his hand over his heart, clutching it intensely. “you wound me. have a little trust,” and with the smile he was sending your way, you couldn’t say no.

suddenly, his head was beneath your thighs, but not in the way you might’ve imagined a time or two when you were by yourself, lifting you to see above nearly everyone else in the vicinity. his hands were gripping your thighs tight, ensuring your security whilst also spreading a bit of warmth very close to where his head resided. your hands wandered to his shoulders, you didn’t want to mess up his uniform too much.

“better up there, doll?”

“much,” you laughed as him and steve continued their way through the crowd to see better.

howard stark began his speech and presentation, everyone ‘ooo’-ing and ‘awe’-ing each minute. with so much talk of the future, it mostly reminded you of the fear you had of your own. would you mom ever come back from this war, herself? would she be lost in her work? what would life look like if things didn’t go well in the field?

it was almost as if bucky could tell you were in your head because within a few more minutes, he ushered the two of you out of the crowd before easing you off his shoulders with his award-winning smile.

“seems like steve ran off again,” bucky chuckled as he adjusted his cap. “what a surprise right?” his voice was dripping with sarcasm. you remained silent, stuck in your own head before bucky continued. “what’s one thing you want to do before you die.”

“woah!” your eyes widened. “way to be cheerful, jamie,” you scoffed at his question as you continued walking around, seemingly nowhere.

“hey,” he placed his hand on your shoulder, turning you towards him. “i’m serious. i know it’s scary, what we’re going into. i’m scared shitless. i’m terrified. but what i’m scared of most is losing you, doll,” he paused, letting his fingers take through the ends of your hair before he continued. “so, tell me, what’s one thing you want to do before you die.”

“i wanna see the northern lights,” you admitted quietly, almost embarrassed. “i mean, i’ve seen pictures of ‘em in the paper, but the way people write about them makes it seem like they’re so much better in person.”

“i know the feeling,” you met his gaze before you continued.

“what about you?” you nudged his shoulder with your own. “what do you wanna do before you die?”

“i don’t think there’s anything else i want in my life right now,” he kept playing with your hair before you continued walking around the park, his arm thrown around your shoulder and yours around his waist.

-

3 weeks after deployment

“heya, doll,” bucky’s voice rang through the tent as he made his way towards you.

currently, you were stitching up someone with a 5 inch laceration to their thigh, one inch to the right and it would’ve struck their major artery and he would’ve been a goner.

“james, i’m busy right now,” wiping off the wound once more, applying antibacterial ointment before wrapping his thigh in gauze. “be sure to come back before lights out, i’ll clean and redress the wound, try to stay off of it if you can,” you gave the man a worried grin.

“thank you, y/n,” the man pressed a kiss to your hairline before making his way to his bunk, you assume.

“just came to say hi to my best girl,” he wrapped his arms around your waist. “and i have a small wound i need you to tend to, please?”

you turned to face him, rolling your eyes when you saw the puppy dog eyes adorned on his adorable face, even covered in layers of dirt and grease.

“let me see it.”

he lifted his shirt - god those abs - to show you the many bruises and scratches littering his torso. you looked up at him with sad eyes. “i hate seeing you like this…”

he paused before snaking his finger under your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes. “i’m okay. it’s just the price of war.”

“i hate that you’re the one paying for it, though,” you shrugged as you motioned for him to lift his arms so you could remove his shirt easier. “gosh, jamie,” it was worse the more you uncovered. “it’s like you’re rolling around on a knife out there.”

“sorry, doll,” he chuckled as you reached for more supplies. you took a washcloth and dipped it in a bucket of water, wringing the washcloth and wiping down his chest and arms. “you’re so gentle.” you continued your job with close concentration. “always loved that about you, y’know?” you ignored his comments. “and your lip does this thing when you’re so concentrated - i don’t even know how to describe it, it’s so adorable.”

you sighed, biting back a smile as you leaned back, “i’m starting to think you purposely get hurt just to see me, now.”

“caught on already?” he chuckled before wincing slightly. you leaned forward once more and started back on cleaning up his skin.

“luckily nothings too deep,” you commented. “you won’t need stitches, but with as many cuts as there are here, i’m gonna go ahead and disinfect and wrap you with some antibacterial to avoid infection.”

“i love it when you talk all doctor to me,” you rolled your eyes at his comment. he lowered his voice before continuing, “can i still sneak in with you tonight?”

“you always do,” you smiled as you dabbed rubbing alcohol on his wounds, trying to distract him as the sting began. “same time?”

“always,” he nodded before you began putting on the antibacterial ointment and then wrapping his torso. “thanks, doll.”

“anytime, jamie,” you nodded as he wrapped you in a warm embrace.

he came into your tent that night. you reapplied his ointment and rewarded him before he insisted you lay your head on his chest to go to sleep, claiming it was more comforting that way. he held you as he slept, not even realizing how tight his grip was.

you didn’t mind it, though. it was comforting. you felt safe and secure in his arms.

that’s how you’ve slept the past two weeks. the same routine, every day. at least, when he was at base. it was harder when he was off fighting. sometimes you had dreams that instead of him coming back to you, it was a letter of condolences, saying their apologies for his missing body.

other times you didn’t sleep at all, too busy worrying about if he was alright or safe at all. you would worry that he was wounded, crying for your help.

i’m a few months, your life would be turned upside down. you weren’t prepared for what was in store, neither was bucky or steve.

TAGS:

@cjand10

@coldheartedmar

@ordelixx

[quindriepress]

This week's spotlight is on Beth Fuller and her comic Witching Hour. Beth is an illustrator and concept artist from Dublin, Ireland. She’s considering putting down the stylus pen and heading off into the wilderness to live as a hermit, but likes hot showers and horror films just enough to keep her in civilisation. For now, anyway. (@bethfuller | website | instagram | twitter)

"Witching Hour is about a young girl sent on a mysterious journey by her father. Two pale trees with intertwined branches form a strange gate at the edge of 12-year-old Esio’s town, and beyond it lies an old, ruined land. Over their pints, as dusk falls, the villagers say it’s where lost things - and people - eventually end up. She’s got sandwiches, an apple, plasters, a bottle of Tipperary Kidz water and a Horrible Histories book in her rucksack and she’s heading off into the unknown, with only a talisman to guide her. There’s no telling who she might meet along the way."

Read the spotlight below the cut!

"That’s the initial rundown, anyway. Speaking more subjectively, I wanted to create a setting where two totally different characters - as different from each other as you can get - are forced to work together and end up changing each other’s lives. I really do think you can get on and find common ground with almost anyone, in the right circumstances."

Witching Hour took several years to incubate. "I’d been working on a comic slowly and haltingly since I was 18. There are pages kept deep, deep in my computer with old, badly drawn versions of Esio in a radically different setting, but it never really made sense as a story. I don’t think I made it past page three! Still, the fantasy atmosphere and character of Esio stuck with me over the years. Plus I really like to mix the dull, routine and mundane aspects of everyday life with things that are otherworldly and strange."

"Eventually we had a visual narrative module as part of my degree, and while recalling my old comic pages (I was mulling over it in the shower, which is where I think many of us do our most important thinking) an idea came to me that would form the basis of Witching Hour. Adding this to the embers of my previous project gave me more than enough fuel to sit down and start drawing.

"I have plenty of ideas for what I want to get up to next. I’ll work on a tarot set, keep working on freelance concept art and illustrations, design some tattoos, maybe try my hand at another comic at some stage. As always, feel free to get in touch and let me know if there’s anything you’d like to see from me!"

Beth draws inspiration from many sources: "The landscapes of south-west Ireland. Horror films, foreign language films, fantasy films, anything animated. The writing of Michelle Paver, Neil Gaiman and Ursula LeGuin.

"For me, though, it’s primarily the work of other illustrators that has inspired me the most, and it’s often only through seeing and evaluating lots of different brilliant styles that you can start to discern your own tastes. As a child, the obligatory Ghibli film catalogue. Then the work of Chris Riddell, Max Prentis and Ian McQue were enough inspiration to foster an interest in art school. I went, studied Illustration at DJCAD, and discovered Jake Wyatt, Celia Lowenthal, Juliette Brocal, Linnea Sterte, Jack T. Cole, Evan Cagle, Alphonse Mucha and (of course) Moebius. Seeing their work is like taking the creative spark and making it into a deodorant flamethrower."

Beth's work often centres around fantastical worlds and sweeping landscapes. "I think somehow you always come back to what you know. Sometimes you don’t even notice you have a fascination with something until you start to create and it keeps returning.

"My family and I spent a lot of time around Irish coastlines growing up, especially during the warmer months. Kerry, in the south-west, has mountains that turn brown in winter, then when summer comes are carpeted with a haze of purple heather, not unlike the hills of Scotland. There are crumbling ringforts and monastic ruins on isolated hilltops. I could be in the most beautiful place in the world but still miss the coconut scent of Kerry gorse. The fantasy aspect is fun to play with, and it adds a nice sense of mystery, but fundamentally I think the landscapes I draw are an attempt to capture, and return to, the shores I kicked about on as a kid."

For aspiring comic creators, Beth has this advice: "This is a common one, but I think it’s still worth saying: if you have a story, get it down. You don’t need to consider yourself a comic artist to make a comic. You also don’t need to wait around for the right time, or enough expertise - nobody is going to give you a nametag with ‘comic artist’ on it. If you can draw, and you need to say something, just start drawing boxes and see where it goes. Also, ‘Necropolis’ by Jake Wyatt is really good."

You can pick up Witching Hour, alongside the other three comics in our 2023 collection, right here on Kickstarter! 

[sailorshadzter]

just some modern jonsa :))))

He finds it endearing, the way she leaves little traces of herself across his apartment

Like a spare hair tie he finds on his bathroom sink or a glass of water on his bedside table, a red lipstick stain on its rim. There's a sweatshirt of hers mixed in with his latest load of laundry and her favorite coffee creamer in his fridge. Her scent perfumes his sheets and his clothes, sweet and floral when he breathes in, even on the nights she sleeps away from him.

And those nights aren't that often, not anymore that is.

Across the room she sits from him now, tucked into the corner of the couch, a blanket spread over her lap, Ghost’s head on her feet. He can’t help but to smile at the sight- his two favorite beings in this world go together like they were always meant to be. Sometimes he thinks the two of them like the other far more than they like him. Somehow, that’s totally okay with him. 

“You’re staring.” Her voice breaks in and he blinks back to reality, blue eyes meeting gray. 

“I was only wondering what you might want to do tonight,” he says as he sneaks around the counter he stands behind, sliding into place on the couch, Ghost sandwiched between them. “It is Saturday.” He reminds her and she laughs, soft and slow, putting a hand to the wolf dog’s head. 

They had met several months ago, out at a club- he’d been dragged there by his friend, Sam, who was trying to hook up with the woman bartending the event. She, on the other hand, was best friends with the girl hosting the event. Two drinks in and he’d seen her at the bar, with her waist long red hair and mini black dress. Those two drinks had given him the courage to walk up and stand beside her, ordering himself a third, before offering a hello and can I buy you a drink? He could never forget that night, his first time seeing her, like an angel come down from heaven… Far too beautiful to be real, to be of this mortal world. But she’d laughed and said yes, telling the bartender she wanted just what he had ordered for himself. Turned out they shared a favorite drink- and a whole lot of other favorites, too. 

What’s your name, he had asked as she took him by the hand to the dance floor, sashaying the way only a woman could. Sansa, she had whispered in his ear as they danced on the crowded floor, one arm outstretched over his shoulder, her hips unbearably close as the music bumped in time with her every movement. 

She didn’t go home with him that night, but with him he’d taken her number and remnants of her red lipstick on his face. The very next morning, hungover as he was, he’d reached for his phone, wondering if it was tacky to text her so soon. 

Tacky or not, he had texted her, and now seven months later, she was as good as living with him. 

“I thought we might order in,” she says, looking not at him but down at the dog she’s petting, grinning in a way she only does with Ghost. “Chinese take out and cheap wine kind of night, you know?” She’s still smiling when she looks up at him, the sleeve of her oversized top slipping over her shoulder. A chuckle escapes him and he’s nodding, reaching for the pamphlets that litter his coffee table, options for the two of them to choose from. 

When dinner is ordered, from their favorite little spot on the corner from his apartment, he’s rising up to tug on his jacket, waving away her protests. “Stay, I’ll go and get it,” he insists, grinning as she sinks back down to the couch, Ghost now wagging his tail at his feet, thinking he might get the chance to go for a walk. Sure enough, Jon reaches for his leash, securing it into place before he grabs his wallet and keys. “Rose, right?” He asks over his shoulder as he turns to go, watching a smile spread over her face as she nods. Of course he knew. 

Just as he reaches for the door knob, he pauses, turning back to fully face her there on the couch, red hair falling in the softest of waves. “I love you,” he says simply, the truth, the words he’s held onto all these months they’ve spent together. All the days and the nights, the minutes and the hours, he’s fallen head over heels in love with her. Loved her in a way he never thought possible. The smile that graces her face is one unlike any he’s seen before, but she tilts her head, red hair cascading over her shoulder, blue eyes damp but bright. 

“I love you, too,” she says, her heart skipping a beat in her chest.

He’s gone then, ducking out the door to get their dinner and cheap wine, just so he might come home and spend the night with the girl he loved. 

It would be perfect.

[trojanteapot]

Infinity Train Boots!

Made these a while back as part of my Simon cosplay, must have been almost a month, but I didn't post the process!

(EDIT: hey I did some fixing up of my cosplay which you can see here in this post!)

Not actually sure if anybody would care because it's so niche, unlike my Spider-Gwen suit, but I did write about how I did the Infinity Train harpoon pack, so I'll discuss this too!

STEP 0: Acquire reference pictures:

Yep, pretty straightforward.

Note that Simon's boots have an extra bar/strap thingy, whereas Ryan and Min-Gi's do not.

I didn't include it because it kinda looks ugly and I didn't know how fragile the strap might be.

NEXT!

STEP 1: Acquire Boots!

I got these MIA boots from Journeys Canada. They only cost around 60 bucks which is a bit pricey for cosplay, but I'm not about to go thrift shopping when I'm in a time crunch and I can just order online and get free delivery within 2 days. (Also these days 60 bucks for boots from a retail store is considered cheap. Inflation is nasty.)

They came with these cardboard thingies inside to keep the structure of the boots. They have "left" and "right" written on them in Chinese which was helpful for me when I got a bit confused about which side was which.

Save those for later. You'll need them.

STEP 2: Paint the soles silver

Literally any acrylic silver paint works. May take several layers. Make sure to put masking tape around the top edge of the soles.

I didn't use a primer on the base but you probably should. Any white acrylic paint or Gesso would do and you wouldn't need like 8 coats of silver. Do as I say not as I do.

And make sure to seal everything with a varnish or mod podge!

Here are also the cut toe caps and some silver craft foam. The craft foam was kind of a mistake I'll get into it soon.

STEP 3: Make toe caps

Here's me making sure the placement is good.

I glued the craft foam onto the cardboard caps, and then I was thinking "well the little bit hanging over it isn't going to be a problem, nope! I'll just glue them down and it'll blend right in!"

HAHAHAHA. WRONG.

STEP 3.1: Fuck up the toe caps because you were winging this and you have no idea how crafting materials work you idiot

GROSS. DISGUSTING. VILE.

The hot glue melted the craft foam and now it's got this weird melty edge all around it that's all goopy and shit. Anyway you dont want your boots to look fucked up, you want them to look smooth like polished steel, or whatever they were made of in the show.

STEP 3.2: Fix toe caps

Everything can be fixed with Model Magic and acrylic paint! (and seal your paint with a sealant again!)

I just took some model magic (a type of lightweight air dry clay from Crayola, the cheapest you can get. Other more legit craft supply brands make similar materials as well), and squished it into the ugly bits, making a mostly seemless transition from craft foam to clay to sole.

TIP: to make model magic smooth before sanding, dab your fingers in some water to smooth it out! This also works for Paperclay as well if you decide to use a more higher end type of air dry clay.

STEP 4: Make the back metal thing that goes around the heel

So I did this kinda in tandem with the toe caps which is why the pics will look a little out of order but essentially, I took the parts of the cardboard that I cut off, and I cut them in half, put some other cardboard in between, and then sandwiched the thing in metallic craft foam.

This time it was a bit more successful because I was able to hide the weird gross melted edges on the inside. Also paint that shit silver!

Now you can glue the "heel caps(?)" directly to your boots, but I decided to use stick-on velcro instead so they're kinda removable, and may be easier to transport or clean or something? ehhh.

STEP 5: Make those handle things

So I also hit a bit of a snag with these. I ordered EVA foam dowels with a semi-circle cross-section as well as a triangular one, but I quickly realized they would be too flimsy sticking out like that unless I put something hard in between them.

So this isn't pictured, but I got some thin crafting wire from Dollarama and just bent them into L shapes, and glued the smaller dowels around them. I also shoved them into the bigger down and glued it down.

You can also see from these pictures that that leaves a weird gap in between the smaller dowels. Again I just used model magic to cover them up. There's probably a better solution but this was the one I went with.

I also lengthened the top "handle" part eventually because it looks better that way. (Please ignore the mess on my desk >_<)

Then I just paint them silver like everything else!

COMPLETE!

The nut and bolts are actual nuts and bolts. Since the base was just craft foam and cardboard, you can poke a hole in them easily and insert the bolt.

Hope you found this helpful! Or are just willing to indulge me and my notes on my silly crafting journey!

[pixelyssa]

What would you do if you had to lose 7-10 lbs in a week?

I’m not big on fasting more than 24 hrs but high res is fine.

lovey are u okay?? this is next to impossible especially without f4sting.

i would never recommend anything for someone to lose that much in a week, sorry!!

my best advice is to NOT give timeframes like a week, a month, 2 months.. actually. you knkw why? because shit happens, theres surprise days where u will have to e@t “normal” theres days where you miscalculate and overe@t, it happennssss. so giving yourself time limits is just going to stress you out even more.

if your goal for now is 10Ibs, id say depending on where youre at now, it could take 3-6weeks. and thats not bad at all!

im currently 10I away from my UGW so heres what ive been doing (and im sorry its not the answer you wanted, im more of a harm prevention blog, who happens to be severely disordered lol)

-every thursday-sunday im working. literally non-stop doubles. so i make sure i don’t e@t at work. thats like 11 hours of no f00d. plus the many hours from the last time i at3, the night before. so about 20-24 hours of fasting (i do have coffee/tea/water/medications/vitamins during that time so its not a dry fast). i do this because it makes me feel good. by the time i get home i either decide if im super hungry and i make a low c@l meal, or eat some veg/fruits, or i just take my sleep pill and carry on the f4st.

i know you said youre not into f4sts, i wasnt sure if you meant all types. liquid is best for me because i love having soup, chicken broth, coffee/decaf coffee, etc. and its easy when im working all day im just too busy to think about f00d

-another thing ive been doing is running, well i havent for the last week because theres a family of skunks nearby and im paranoid teehee but ive been pushing myself to do SOMETHING that i enjoy since i hate working out, but running, playing with my dog, or walking with my boyfriend are all things that i actually enjoy and it helps.

-mon-wednesday i dont work, i spend the whole day with my bf each day. like i said we go on walks and play withh the dog, so my workouts are crossed off for those days. as far as e@ting goes i usually cook or bake for him. so i know exactly whats going into each dish and i can prepare (i dont eat what i bake for him because i dont have a sweet tooth, atleast thats what my bf thinks teehee) when i cook i give him a huge portion, and myself a small one. and its an OMAD for me. we stay up late playing games and then i try to sleep for as long as possible to avoid breakfast & lunch. then by dinner time, he has all the leftovers and i have something like salad or fruit or soup.

i know thats just all about me, the point is, i liquid fasting 4 days a week, sleep in on my days off to avoid f00d (and catch up on sleep ofc) and try to have 1 meal and 1 snack only during those days.

ofc i struggle with cravings, sometimes we will order out instead of cooking if its too hot to cook. i opt for things like sushi, getting a lettuce wrap instead of bread for sandwiches/burgers, etc. i pretty much e@t normal food i just stop when i start to feel full, which is around half the portion of whatever i give myself.

i hope this helps, keep in mind ive been doing this for 10 years and its not even a choice for me its second nature. its me on auto pilot, how my brain thinks. and i know its not good im self aware, im just going through it and cant choose to get better.

and i hope youre not mad that im saying your goal is impossible, its just not gonna happen without fasting, and even with, your stomach will trick your brain on day 2 that uou should give up. high r3striction and f4sting and extreme workouts are not something you start with, its something you work up to.

idk what your limit is now say its 800. thats good. 800 some days maybe 900 others. in 2 werks you will probably feel comfortable going down to 600 some days, other days. and you can keep lowering it as you get comfy. jumping from whatever your limiy is now, to 200-300 a day will lead to overe@ting & guilt anyways. for ANYONE, because our body will react.

if you do end up going lower, id invest in some vitamins (D, Calcium, B12, mens/womens multi, C), a big water bottle so you know how much water to drink daily, make sure youre getting all your hours of sleep, and make sure once a week youre spiking your limit up, so that your metabolism doesnt slow down so much that you start maintaining w8.

xoxo fairyuck

[scoops-aboy86]

Not Dating, part 6

part 1, part 2, part 3, parts 4 & 5, part 7, part 8 - also on ao3

Long awaited update? Or something? I've been struggling not with this chapter but the next one… Looks like there will be 1-2 more chapters before this wraps up.

By the time Eddie ventures cautiously from his room again, dressed this time, Steve has set the tiny kitchen table with two plates of peanut butter apple toast and two glasses of ice water. The mug of wildflowers sits between the two place settings. 

“I, uh,” Steve starts. And looks down at what he’s done, in Eddie’s own home. He came to admit, among other things, that he’s been feeding Eddie up, and now he’s doing it again, completely on autopilot. 

Without comment and not quite looking directly at him, Eddie drops into the nearest chair, immediately picking up his ice water and downing it. He sets it down with a tinkle of ice, and Steve takes the opportunity to snatch the glass and top it off at the sink before sitting down himself. 

“Did you… do the dishes?” Eddie asks, notes of disbelief and something like amusement warring in his tone. His still-damp hair is in a braid down his back, something he’d only started doing because Steve had told him months ago that it would help control frizz and keep his curls intact. He’s done that much, but made no attempt to shave the several days of scruff from his cheeks, his jaw, the softening roundness beneath his chin. 

“There weren’t that many,” Steve mutters, looking away before he stares more than he already has. And yes, he’s aware that this isn’t much of a defense, but it’s all he’s got. 

“Right…” Eddie clears his throat and takes another gulp of water. He eyes his plate. (Should Steve have cut the crusts off? No, fuck, they’re not little kids, that’d be weird… Oh who’s he kidding, it’s weird either way.) 

Also, there’s a little sliver of belly peeking out the bottom of Eddie’s shirt; he doesn’t seem to have noticed it yet. 

Oh god, Steve needs to talk now.

“I’m sorry, again,” he blurts out, fixing his gaze down at his hands as he picks at the crust of his toast. “When you asked what we were doing I kinda got stuck on what I was doing and I thought… you were mad about it? Because I was… Because I keep… I usually focus on, on certain things, and I didn’t realize you were asking about… us stuff. I didn’t know if you wanted all that, with me, or if it was just blowing off steam or whatever, but I guess, since you got mad, I figured that… maybe you did? And I fucked up my chance to let you know we’re on the same page, about that. Oh god, I’m rambling. I sound like Robin.”

A tiny smile cracks across Eddie’s face at that last part, just for a second, as if agreeing and laughing with him about it rather than at him. Because Eddie is good at stuff like that, at not making Steve feel stupid even when he knows he’s objectively acting the part. Even though Eddie might still be mad at him—it’s hard to tell, but Steve had needed to break in just to talk to him. 

Steve takes a deep breath and tries to rally. “What I’m trying to say is… If you want, if I haven’t totally blown it, I want to be way more than ‘just’ friends with you, Eddie. But you should also know that… I’m pretty weird. Like, I may not be a nerd, but I’m definitely some kind of freak.”

Eddie blinks, focuses on him so hard that Steve feels like he’s under a microscope, then glances down at the set table and back up. “Weird like… letting yourself in and making me a sandwich?”

“It’s… more like toast with a lot of toppings on it,” Steve says weakly. “But you could have mine and put them together to make it a sandwich, if you want.”

“Steve,” Eddie says flatly, a warning to cut the bullshit, and that’s it. 

That’s all it takes. He looks up into Eddie’s eyes and he’s caught, unable to look away from the confused wariness, the caution that he had put there, even if it was by accident. 

“I like to watch you eat,” he admits breathlessly, and he’s so, so grateful to Robin for both putting up with his shit and forcing him to write things down and practice saying them, as clear and unambiguous as he can. “And be content. I like seeing the way it shows up on you, and the way you take up more space, because… you’re here and you can, even though you almost weren’t. And watching it happen is—But it’s more than just, um, physical. I think I… No, I know I want to be with you, Eds, but I need you to know about this first, in case it changes your mind about me. 

“Because I know I can be a lot.” Feeling his face go hot, Steve ducks his head to stare down at his own hands. “I also get jealous sometimes and I’m working on it, and I can be all over the person I’m dating all the time and not everybody likes that. Robin kept hitting me with her pillow for saying ‘clingy,’ but I’ve heard it a lot, so, yeah. And she took the pen away when I wrote down that I can be stupid sometimes, but I barely graduated and didn’t make it into any colleges, so I feel like it’s worth mentioning? You know some of that already, I just want you to, uh. Be able to make an informed decision.”

That was the last line of his little speech, which he’s pretty sure he got through without forgetting anything terribly important. So Steve shuts his mouth and waits for a response, barely aware that he’s holding his breath 

“You wrote it down?” Eddie asks finally. 

“Well, yeah?” Steve can’t read his tone or the expression on his face, which is unsettling—Eddie really would make one hell of a poker player. “I had to figure out what I was going to say so I didn’t fuck up again, otherwise I would’ve come here sooner.”

“Let me get this straight,” Eddie says, then pauses, frowns, and shakes his head slightly as though dislodging a stray thought. “You wrote out a whole speech to tell me that, what? You like that I’ve gotten fat?”

The last word makes Steve go rigid in his chair, because… wow, he just came out and said it, didn’t he? Tone and all. “Uh, yeah, so I wouldn’t accidentally say it like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like it’s a bad thing! I like you the way you are, and you could get bigger or smaller and I’d still like you just as much! But I… I like taking care of you, and I really like how happy you look when you let yourself relax.”

They stare at each other for a moment that stretches on forever. The earth stops rotating, the sun explodes, and Steve still can’t move because Eddie is looking at him like that. 

This is the moment right before the one where Steve expects Eddie to tell him to get out. 

And then Eddie sits back almost in slow motion, a hand coming to rest absently on his stomach, and he looks… kind of like he had upon waking from a coma and realizing he hadn’t actually died. Like something huge and previously inconceivable is opening up in front of him, and it’s so unexpected it toes the line of too much. 

“Well shit, Steve… I can’t believe you brought me flowers and wrote a whole speech.” He stops to pinch himself, and flinches. “Ow.”

Steve is already reaching out, wanting to soothe the pinched spot on Eddie’s chubby arm because he can’t help it. Same reason he started touching Eddie in the first place, because yeah, Eddie makes his insides go all liquid hot and squirmy, but he couldn’t stand seeing him with a scrunched up face because of a tummy ache, either. 

His fingers brush over warm skin, and before he can second guess himself and pull away Eddie’s hand rests on top of his, giving permission. Holding him to the spot, even, as though trying to press his touch in like a flower between pages of a book. Pressing him into the softness of his upper arm. 

“And for the record,” Eddie says with a hint of a grin, “yeah, you are kind of a freak. I don’t think that has to be a bad thing either—speaking as the King of the Freaks in this vicinity, by popular vote and general reputation.” He bites his lip, hesitates, and adds tentatively, “Look… I think we both kinda fucked up. I didn’t think you could want… How did you put it before? Us stuff.”

Steve glances up from their hands, up from where his gaze had been straying dangerously close to where Eddie’s shirt has ridden up a little. “That’s not your fault. I didn’t do a very good job of showing you that I do.”

“Yeah, well.” There’s a hopeful twinkle in Eddie’s eye as he raises an eyebrow. “That’s right, you know. You could’ve at least kissed me on the mouth before jumping my bones.”

It’s that twinkle that gives Steve the nerve to lean forward and say, “Yeah, no, I was way too chickenshit. But I think I can fix that now.”

The small table makes leaning the rest of the way across easy. Steve has had plenty of first kisses, most of them either gentle and chaste because he was trying to be a gentleman or hard and messy because the date was just a thin pretense for getting laid, but this isn’t either of those. It’s slow, exploratory, savoring—forceful from months of wanting, letting Eddie lick his way in for a taste because Steve thinks he would rather be struck by lightning than deny Eddie anything. Might as well be, with how electrified he feels all the way from the ends of his hair to his toes from the first instant of contact and continuing through every slick motion of their mouths. He feels breathless, heart too big for his body with relief that he hasn’t ruined anything after all. With fucking joy that he gets to have this, that Eddie is kissing back just as fervently. 

It doesn’t feel like a first kiss, not exactly. It feels like they should have been doing this the entire time… because, well, duh. 

They break apart around the time Steve’s head starts to swim from lack of air but don’t go far, leaning their foreheads together and panting against each other’s kiss-bruised lips for a moment. Eddie has a head-empty grin plastered across his face, cherubic and dimpled, and Steve is pretty sure he’s wearing an equally dopey expression. He probably looks extra stupid, half out of his seat and curled over the table like some sort of shrimp, but he doesn’t even care because Eddie wants this. Him, even with all that entails. Apparently. His head is floating and entire body tingling from giddiness, something he hasn’t felt since he’d first convinced Nancy to ‘study’ with him… But that felt like a lifetime ago, and hadn’t been half as intense.

“Would you like to go out with me, Eds? On a date?” Steve breathes, because he’s a hopeless romantic and he wants to do this right. 

And it seems that somehow he has, because Eddie beams back at him brighter than the sun. There are shadows under his eyes and days’ worth of stubble gone unshaven, but he looks more alive than Steve has ever seen him before. 

Eddie bumps their noses together and brings a hand down (when had both of them ended up in Steve’s hair?) to cup his jaw. “Yeah, sweetheart. I’d like that a lot.”

Part 7, part 8

Tag list: @hotluncheddie @lawrencebshoggoth @sofadofax @tangerinesteve

@eyehartart @steviewashere @westifer-dead

[emotional-moss]

physical self care tips for folks who don’t have the emotional/physical capacity to do so

disclaimer: these are not going to work for everyone nor are they a cure-all. sometimes you need additional help or sometimes these just aren’t going to work for you. this is not me assuming that every single mentally or physically disabled person is able to do all these. at the lowest points in my life i wasn’t even to get out of bed for days on end and once didn’t brush my teeth for several months. but these help some folks, and that’s all i’m going for!

can’t brush/floss your teeth? mouthwash. mouthwash always. plus you can get it in fun flavors :)

- additionally: are physically capable of brushing/flossing but can’t find the emotional capacity to do so? put on a video/show you like in the background. it helps me !

- oh also you can get toothpaste in fun flavors too if that helps

- you only really need to wash your face like once a day with a fairly gentle soap. like even a bar soap or a diluted hand soap works.

- don’t wanna deal with acne and stuff? pimple patches are your best friend (but wash your face first)

- additionally, acne is normal and common. you don’t have to have “perfect skin” and it’s super rare that people do (and if they do, they most likely invest in a bunch of expensive skincare products and routines).

- don’t/can’t shower? deodorant on stinky/sweaty areas. your armpits, your neck and upper back (trust me on this one), your crotch area, all that stuff.

- or you can just use a washcloth. wet it, put some soap on it, and then rub it on stinky areas. make sure there’s more water on it than soap so that you can wipe it off with a dry washcloth after.

- if you don’t wanna take care of your hair and you don’t need/want to keep it long, buzz it. or just cut it short!

- alternately, if you want/need to keep your hair long but can’t take care of it:

- if you have a looser hair type, run through it every now and then with a brush or your fingers. if you’re able, run through it with your fingers at least a few times a day. running it under water for a little and then gently running through it with your fingers/a comb works as well. also, dry shampoo is your best friend if you’ve got oily hair. if you don’t want to brush/wash it often, keep it in easy to maintain styles like regular braids.

- for black/coiled hair types: i’m not black and have 2c/3a wavy/curly hair so i really don’t know much about this so please do not take this as if i have firsthand experience, this is all internet knowledge/from black peers. i always open to better information, please tell me if you have any! from what i’ve heard and learned black/coiled hair doesn’t need to be washed as much. keeping it short helps because it shrinks easily and means you don’t have to wash/clean it often. but if you want to keep it long, it can get dry easily. separating it into sections and then running through it with a detangling brush helps (a good option is the Spornette DeVille Cushion Paddle Boar Bristle 344). protective hairstyles mean you don’t have to wash it that often as well. 

- some foods may not be healthy but if they’re easy to prepare and leave you sustained for some time, fucking go for it. as long as you don’t have any dietary/medical restrictions regarding them.

- foods like omelettes, oatmeal, microwavable burritos/ramen/etc, peanut butter on toast, tuna sandwiches, frozen chicken nuggets, bag salads, and mixed nuts are all easy to make and/or good sources of vitamins and protein.

- fatness isn’t a bad thing. you don’t need to work out or eat specifically to “stay in shape.”

- but if you do want to work out: i am not a physical therapist, personal trainer, etc. nor do i have much gym experience. listen to your body and consult legitimate medical sources/medical professionals. i am also not physically disabled. i cannot judge what is right for your body; only you and medical professionals can do that.

- remember to warm up and cool down. wear comfortable clothes that make you feel good. drink plenty of water!!!! and listen to what your body is telling you !!! if you experience pain/nausea, it’s time to stop for a bit and there’s no shame in that.

- simple workouts! focus on one specific thing, like flexibility or strength or something. walking/pacing is an easy one if you’re able to do that. listening to music while doing it helps too. - stretches are awesome. yoga is awesome. simple things that increase flexibility and don’t require a lot of physical activity are awesome. just a simple stretch now and then is rad as fuck.

- as always, laziness is a myth. sometimes your mind or your body just doesn’t want to do something and that’s perfectly fine. 

- that’s all i can think of for now i might add more later

[wolfawaycamp]

Something with infected Kaitlyn maybe? <33 (best if she stays infected post-game and all counselors survive)

🐼 What if I told y'all this was based on a dream I had where this was more or less the intro to The Quarry 2? It's a sign, I tell ya!

Twelve-forty-two p.m. They were running late. Not good. Kaitlyn stared out at the water from the front steps of the lakehouse. They’d all agreed it was a worthwhile investment considering their…condition, but it was also quite isolated, which made for a long monthly road trip.

Sure, the sun wasn’t supposed to set for another four hours or so, but that didn’t stop Kaitlyn from running through every worst-case scenario in her head while she sat nervously awaiting the arrival of her fellow counselors.

Jacob strolled up and planted himself next to her. “Kait, I know that look. You’re getting antsy again.” She didn’t respond. “Hey, it’s probably just, I don’t know, typical New York traffic. People coming home for the holidays and all that.”

She looked over at her friend. “Yeah. Probably.” It could also be an accident, or maybe another attempted kidnapping, or god forbid one of the Hacketts found—

Thankfully, Kaitlyn didn’t need to finish that thought as she saw the familiar silhouette of Emma’s minivan pop up over the horizon.

“Party time!” Jacob grinned at Kaitlyn.

She rolled her eyes and strode toward the approaching vehicle. “You are probably the only person in the universe who gets consistently excited about exploding into a hairless mutt every month.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

She put one hand on her hip and glared at Jacob. “Uh, yeah. Because it’s fucking weird, dude.”

The van slowed to a stop a few feet away from the bickering duo, and it wasn’t long until seven familiar faces popped out, each carrying some sort of backpack or container in their arms.

“What took you so long?” Kaitlyn inquired, scanning the group. She knew her temper would be shorter than normal today, but she still felt she had the right to be a little upset.

While several of the counselors began transporting their luggage into the lakehouse, Abi rounded the van and plopped a large cardboard box down in front of Kaitlyn. “Hey, don’t be too mad at us. We brought some extras along. My idea.” She gestured toward the box.

Kaitlyn raised an eyebrow. “You went on a shopping spree?”

“Not exactly. I had these custom-made and today was the earliest we could pick them up. I’m really sorry it took so long.” Abi opened the box and revealed a brightly colored pile of woven fabric.

Kaitlyn grabbed the top item; it was dark green with a very loud yet charming pattern of fire-engine red bears prancing across it. She instantly recognized what these were supposed to be. “Ugly Christmas sweaters. Cute.”

“Aren’t they?” Emma hopped over. “That one’s Jacob’s. Mine’s the purple one with the stars on it, and yours—”

“Hey, hey, hey! Let’s save the gift-giving for when we’re all prepped for tonight,” Abi interrupted.

Ryan and Dylan had walked out of the house and approached the group, hands loosely linked together. Ryan spoke, looking slightly more on guard than normal, “She’s right. We’ve got an early moon tonight and I’m not sure I want to see what a ravenous Kaitlyn looks like.”

Now that he mentioned it, Kaitlyn’s stomach had been grumbling for the past few minutes. “Speaking of—” She spun around and entered the house, searching specifically for Jacob or Nick; they were tonight’s designated chefs. She found them unloading groceries in the kitchen. “How long’s that all gonna take to cook?”

Nick pressed a few buttons on the oven and turned to Kaitlyn. “It’s not too complicated; the sandwiches need to be assembled and then we’re just waiting on dessert. Hope you like sloppy joes and brownies!”

Kaitlyn tried not to get too excited thinking about it. “Sounds great! I’m gonna go over here now so you don’t have to see me drooling all over myself. Let me know when it’s done!” She wanted to do the rounds before getting too comfortable.

Making her way to the end of the hallway, Kaitlyn pulled a set of keys out of her pocket. She stood in front of the door at the end of the hall for a moment; this was going to be their home for tonight, and things needed to be double- and triple-checked before she and her fellow lycanthropes settled down.

“Everything good?” Dylan’s voice called out from behind her. She would have been annoyed if it was anyone else, but he somehow managed to stay in her good graces during full moons. They’d been in sync with each other, more or less, since that night at Hackett’s Quarry.

Kaitlyn nodded, unlocking the basement door. “Yep. Only need to do a quick basement check and we should be gucci.”

“But are you ready?” he asked.

She met his gaze; he looked anxious, rightfully so. They were about to jam a bunch of bloodthirsty animals into close quarters. Not exactly the holiday vacation they’d pictured. “As ready as I can be. Are you coming with, or…?” She nodded toward the staircase leading into darkness. He shrugged and wordlessly followed her downward.

After they’d confirmed that every inch of their enclosure was working as intended, the two joined the group for dinner, which was followed by a lazy hour of catching up and gossip.

Laura’s watch alarm went off. Four o’clock on the dot. Kaitlyn sat up straight, tensing up as if she was being sentenced for a crime.

“Alright. Time’s up, guys. Let’s get going,” Laura said calmly.

The infected individuals one-by-one filed into the underground cages. Once they were all locked in, they collectively relaxed into their quarters.

“Damn. We never got around to giving out the sweaters,” Emma lamented from the spot next to Kaitlyn.

Kaitlyn gave what was probably an unconvincing smile in response. “We’ll have plenty of time. After.”

Emma grinned back with a similar look of unease, but her words were sincere. “Deal. After.”

Kaitlyn supposed there were worse ways to spend her holiday vacation.

[renecdote]

blue enough to bruise

For @evanbucxley my love 💛

Two things happen at once:

Buck overbalances, arm slipping from around the bridge.

The rope snaps.

They lock eyes for a second, half a second, Buck’s wide and afraid, Eddie’s probably a match with the way his heart is pounding hard enough to hurt, nothing either of them can do, knowing that there is nothing either of them can do, and then—Buck is falling.

For BTHB: falling from a great height

[Read on AO3]

Eddie has just poured himself a cup of coffee when the call comes in. They’re all in the truck seconds later, headsets on, half the crew still wiping sleep from their eyes. Adrenaline hasn’t kicked in yet, but Eddie can already feel the anticipation building. The thing about early morning calls is that they always seem to be easy or awful, rarely anything in-between. Sometimes they can tell as soon as they arrive at a scene, but Eddie can’t pinpoint which way this one is going to go when they pull up, jumping out of the engine in the middle of a looming, six-lane bridge that police have already cordoned off on one side.

“Jumper?” Chimney asks.

Bobby frowns. “Doesn’t sound like it, he called 911 himself.”

Eddie cranes his head, squinting into the sunlight to see the figure clinging like a monkey two thirds of the way up a towering support beam.

“How did he even get up there?” Buck wonders aloud.

“Let’s focus on how we’re getting him down,” Bobby answers. “Buck, Eddie, I want you both in harnesses. We’ll send you up on the ladder, but it won’t reach all the way so you’ll have to climb.”

They harness up quickly. Eddie was worried when he came back to the 118 that he might have lost the easy familiarity of things like this—putting on a harness, reaching for the right item in a med kit, knowing exactly what Buck is going to say before he says it—but he’s been back for almost six months now and most days it feels like he never left. He checks Buck’s harness, tugging on the straps to make sure they’re secured properly, and Buck checks his in turn. Easy, familiar.

“Ready?” Eddie asks.

Buck nods. “Ready.”

They knock wrists: easy, familiar. Chimney called it a superstition once, which kicked off another jinx-esque debate that lasted all through one twenty-four shift and into the next. It had only been surpassed by the great ‘is a hotdog a sandwich?’ debate, which was rehashed with increasing intensity through a whole cycle of shifts until Bobby banned it ever being mentioned in the firehouse again.

(Eddie maintains, though, a hotdog is definitely a sandwich.)

Despite the bright day overhead, the water looks cold and angry below. Eddie has never been afraid of heights—can’t be afraid of heights in this job—but he tries not to look down. Better not to think about how far it would be to fall. The girders are slick with early morning condensation, cold metal and hot morning sun a deadly slip hazard. It forces them to go slow, every handhold carefully tested even with the harnesses to catch them if they fall. They work their way up, then across to where their caller is straddling a crossbeam. Slowly. Carefully. Up close, Eddie can see that he’s wearing climbing gear—or an amateur’s idea of climbing gear, at least—and he can’t be older than twenty-five.

“Oh thank god,” he sobs when they reach him. “I don’t want to die.”

Buck and Eddie exchange looks.

“Just stay still,” Eddie tells the kid. “My partner and I are going to put this harness on you and then lower you down to our team. Don’t try to help unless we tell you to.”

He keeps expecting it to go wrong. Eight out of ten times, the person you tell to stay still when they’re in a dangerous situation doesn’t listen, their mind too clouded with panic for rational thought. But this guy’s fear response must be freeze, not flight or fight, because even once he’s in the harness, it takes several minutes of coaxing to get him to actually let go. They lower him slowly and Eddie feels like he’s holding his breath until Chimney and Ravi get a hold of the man and pull him down the ladder.

“Good work boys,” Bobby tells them. “Now get yourselves down—carefully.”

Buck looks at him, grinning, and Eddie can’t help but grin back.

“Copy that, Cap,” he answers. “See you on the ground.”

They get halfway there.

Eddie is ahead, trying not to think about creaking ferris wheels, when he hears Buck’s bitten off curse. He looks up, something like dread itching at the back of his neck. He knew this call was going too smoothly.

“What’s wrong?”

“My line is stuck on something.” Buck tugs at it, then grabs quickly at the girders when he almost slips. “I can’t get it loose.”

He adjusts his grip, hugging the bridge with one arm, then tugs again, harder. Eddie follows the line of his rope up, up, up, trying to pinpoint where it has been snared. He doesn’t like what he sees: the rope isn’t just caught, it’s fraying, probably has been the whole time.

“Buck, wait—”

Two things happen at once:

Buck overbalances, arm slipping from around the bridge.

The rope snaps.

They lock eyes for a second, half a second, Buck’s wide and afraid, Eddie’s probably a match with the way his heart is pounding hard enough to hurt, nothing either of them can do, knowing that there is nothing either of them can do, and then—Buck is falling.

It doesn’t happen in slow motion. It’s all too fast, even with the way Eddie’s world narrows, the cacophony of voices on the radio nothing more than static in his ears. By the time he has reached uselessly into the air, Buck is tumbling six feet down, ten, twenty, then the shadow of the bridge swallows him whole. Eddie doesn’t see him hit the water, but he swears he feels it, fear and adrenaline like a lightning strike through his body, a Lichtenburg figure of grief already forming in its wake.

Buck told him once that he read about a guy who survived a fall from the Sydney Harbour Bridge. He was working on the construction when he fell 180 feet into the harbour below, coming out of it with nothing more than a few fractured ribs, bruises, and one hell of a story to tell.

“He wasn’t the only one who fell during construction,” Buck told him. “But he was lucky, he was a diver and he managed to turn in the air so he hit the water feet first. It’s probably the only reason he survived.”

Buck probably knows all the statistics, too, about people who have survived falls from bridges. About people who haven’t. Eddie doesn’t know the numbers, all he knows is that the higher the fall, the more likely you are to die, and this bridge is really fucking tall.

“Eddie.” Bobby’s voice is sharp through the radio. Focus. “Are you secure?”

Is he secure? Is he secure? Buck just fell of a bridge—a fucking bridge—and Bobby is worried about him?

Eddie grits his teeth. “I’m fine. Buck—”

“I know.” Calm. Somehow calm. “We’ve called in reinforcements, we’re going to get him.”

Bobby doesn’t say whether he thinks it will be rescue or recovery and Eddie feels too sick to ask. He’s sure his knuckles are white beneath his gloves with how hard he’s holding the girders, but he feels dizzying light. He needs to get down, but he has the strange, irrational feeling that as long as he doesn’t move, it’s not real. As long as he’s up here, he doesn’t have to face what might meet him on the ground.

“Eddie,” Bobby says again, gentler, and Eddie’s throat aches when he swallows.

“I know,” he replies, and he’s not sure if his voice trembles or if it just sounds that way because of how hard he’s fighting not to shake. He knows that if he starts, it’s not going to stop until he can get his hands on Buck, whole and warm and alive. (It might never stop.)

Eddie takes a deep breath. Closes his eyes for one second, two, three. Then he makes himself start climbing again.

***

It takes fifty-two minutes. Eddie keeps it together because he has to, because Bobby will sideline him if he doesn’t, because he needs to be doing something to help or the black hole growing in his chest is going to suck him in completely.

The Coast Guard have taken over the water, which leaves Eddie and the rest of the 118 spreading along the waterfront. Down here, the current is stronger than it looked from the towering height of the bridge. Buck is a strong swimmer, probably the strongest on the team, but he can’t swim if all his bones are broken. And as much as Eddie doesn’t want to think about it, he can’t stop running through every possible outcome in his mind, each worse than the last. He’s making himself dizzy. Lightheaded. He’s going through the motions of search and rescue (rescue, not recovery, rescue), but he feels—adrift. Like it was his own line that snapped when Buck fell, leaving him untethered in a growing storm, battered by wind and rain, cut through with every crack of thunder and blinding flash of lightning.

Eddie rubs at his chest, feeling like he can’t breathe even though he knows, logically, that he can. He can breathe, and they’re going to find Buck, and everything will be fine. It has to be fine.

He talked about it with Frank, once. What it was like to come home and tell Christopher that his mom had died. What it might have been like for Buck to tell Christopher that Eddie had been hurt. All the times Eddie worried that he might have to go home and tell his son that Buck did something reckless on a call, but this time luck wasn’t on his side.

“And what about you?” Frank asked, mild the way he always was when he was about to make Eddie feel like a piñata, turned upside down and beaten until all his feelings poured out.

“What about me?”

“You’ve told me how hard it would be for Christopher, having that conversation, helping him through his grief,” Frank answered. “But what about your own feelings? Your own grief?“

Eddie still doesn’t like to think about that question. Losing Buck won’t kill him because it can’t, not as long as he still has Christopher to think about, but he knows already that some part of him will break in a way that he’s not sure he’ll ever recover from. Not sure he would want to recover from.

He shivers. The wind is picking up, cold despite the sun glaring overhead, and the long sleeves of his LAFD shirt have none of the warmth of old-fashioned metal armour. Or maybe it’s just Eddie that is cold. The rest of the team look serious but unaffected as they move along the waterfront, searching for any sign that Buck might have pulled himself out of the water.

If he could have pulled himself out of the water.

If he could have swam at all.

If he’s not—

“We’ve got him.”

That lightning again, fear and adrenaline and grief, his heart in his throat until the confirmation comes almost a full minute later: “He’s alive.”

Eddie isn’t aware that his knees are giving out until Chimney and Hen are catching him and the three of them are sinking to the ground together.

“Thank god,” Hen manages.

“Kid has about nine dozen lives,” Chimney adds, and Eddie chokes on something that is more relief than laugh. His mind is a feedback loop of he’s alive he’s alive he’s alive, so vivid he swears he can taste it.

“Come on,” Bobby says, gathering them all. “They’re taking Buck in, we can meet him at the hospital.”

***

It takes ninety-six minutes.

Buck has been wheeled back by the time they all get to the hospital, and all the triage nurse will tell them is that the doctor will let them know when there’s news. They’ve done this more than a few times now—the vigil, the agonising waiting—but years of practice does nothing to ease the crawling under Eddie’s skin.

“Maddie is on her way,” Chimney tells them, and Eddie doesn’t even know when he had time to call her.

He doesn’t know when Hen and Ravi slipped away to buy coffees either, but his fingers wrap automatically around a paper cup when it is pressed into his hand. He doesn’t cry, even though he feels like he’s breathing through the hot press of tears every second that they wait, scattered in an all-too-familiar pattern around another all-too-familiar waiting room. Maddie and Chimney holding hands, Bobby bent forward in something like prayer, Hen a steady calm two seats down from Eddie, Ravi’s knee bouncing across from them.

And Eddie—Eddie still can’t breathe. There’s this part of him that thinks: Buck is with the doctors now, he’ll be okay. There’s a bigger part that thinks: Buck is with the doctors now, but what if he’s not okay?

He’s the first one on his feet when the doctor steps out and calls, “family for Evan Buckley?”

It’s good news. Mostly. Monitor and hope things don’t go downhill news. Two broken fingers, fractured ribs, cuts and bruises, the threat of pneumonia or some other nasty infection from the water he swallowed. But—Buck is gong to be okay. Is okay. Eddie has to pinch himself, hidden in the sensitive underside of his wrist, right over his stuttering pulse, just to make sure that this is real. That he’s not going to blink and find himself still suspended from that bridge, watching his best friend fall to his death without even a hope of stopping it.

His arm stings.

Bobby squeezes his shoulder.

Eddie blinks and the hospital doesn’t blur around him.

“Can we see him?” Maddie asks, still hand in tightly held hand with Chimney.

Eddie lets the others go ahead of him. He just—needs a minute. And he’s selfish, maybe, because he wants Buck all to hisself—needs Buck to himself—but. He thinks this is the kind of thing he’s allowed to be a little selfish about.

(He knows, somewhere just beneath the surface, hidden from everyone else but always itching, itching, itching, that Buck is the one thing he’s never been able to stop himself from being selfish about.)

***

“Hey.”

Buck looks up quickly, then winces at whatever hurt it aggravates. But he’s smiling, tired and wilting at the edges but genuine, when he answers, “Hey, Eds.”

Eddie grabs the chair beside the bed, sinking into it before his legs can give out under him. Exhaustion is following thick and fast on the heels of the relief that is spreading through him, putting down its tenuous roots along all the jagged Lichtenburg lines.

“You scared the hell out of me,” he says, and he’s trying to make it light, more relief than trembling, but he’s not sure he succeeds. The whole thing doesn’t feel like past tense quite yet.

“Sorry,” Buck says, guilty. “If it helps, I scared myself too.”

It helps more than it should, honestly, because the last time Eddie was in a hospital room like this with his best friend, he told Buck that he wasn’t expendable and saw in his eyes that he didn’t really believe it. It’s hard to believe that was eighteen months ago now. And at the same time, hard to believe it was only eighteen months ago.

This is the point where Eddie is supposed to make a joke, a flippant comment. But he can’t make his voice work around the ache in his throat because this was—it was close. Shot on a street in broad daylight kind of close. Trapped at the bottom of a well, crushed under a firetruck, forced into the back of an ambulance with a gun to their heads kind of close. He thinks… he knows, after months upon months of therapy, that he’s allowed to not be okay about that.

“Hey.” Gentle. Almost as gentle as the way Buck threads their fingers together and squeezes Eddie’s hand. “I’m here.”

Eddie doesn’t know if there is a right time to kiss your best friend. Three hours ago, maybe, or three years ago. It doesn’t feel right to do it now, with Buck in a hospital bed and the adrenaline still fizzling under his skin, but it feels wrong to wait a second longer too. What did he tell Chimney all those years ago? Tomorrow isn’t promised to anyone.

The kiss is soft and gentle, Buck’s lips dry against his own. Buck makes a sound in the back of his throat, starts to open his mouth like it’s instinct, hand fisting in Eddie’s shirt, but Eddie pulls away. Forehead against forehead for a second, three seconds, breathing together, then he forces himself to sit back. He—doesn’t regret it. Maybe he should, but. He doesn’t.

“Eds…”

Buck’s voice is weak, his eyes suddenly watery.

Eddie shakes his head because he’s a coward; he knows what Buck is going to say and he’s not strong enough to hear it.

“When you’re ready,” he says, squeezing Buck’s hand. “I’m here, okay? Whenever you’re ready.”

Tomorrow isn’t promised to anyone, but Eddie would promise Buck a thousand tomorrows—a hundred thousand of them—anyway.  

Buck’s eyes search his before he asks, “What if I’m never ready?”

Eddie smiles, even though the thought makes him ache. “That’s okay too.”

There was a part of him that was expecting to be rejected entirely, even though… Even though it’s Buck, and most days he feels like he knows Buck better than he knows himself. The way he smiles when he’s hurting, the way his eyes light up when he’s excited, the absurd combinations of condiments he likes on sandwiches. The way he craves reassurance but would never ask for it, the fact that he scrubs his favourite white sneakers with a toothbrush to keep them clean, the stories behind all the scars he doesn’t like to talk about. There are secrets in Buck’s skin, behind his smiles, breathed into the way he speaks and feels and loves, and Eddie know—not all of them, probably, but most.

He knows Buck and he knows that he loves him. That he’ll always love him. That one day Buck might show up on his doorstep and say he loves Eddie too.

“Will you stay?’ Buck asks.

I’ll stay forever, you don’t even have to ask.

“Of course,” Eddie answers. “Nowhere else I’d rather be.”

Christopher is at school, the rest of their team is headed home to sleep off the twenty-four, and Buck—Buck is here. Eddie settles more comfortably in his chair and pulls out his phone, ready to wait for as long as it takes. Buck smiles, soft and hidden in the way he ducks his head, and Eddie feels it like lightning through through his veins: love, love, love.

He doesn’t let go of Buck’s hand.

Buck doesn’t ask him to.

[writtenonreceipts]

Shorter chapter! Was orginally going to be part of Rowaelin Month, enter life...

Find the Fic Masterlist Here // AO3

warnings: nothing too major this time around. ~3.7k words

Where We've Been, Where We're Going--Part Seven

After a long shift at work Aelin wanted nothing more than to go home and collapse on the couch.  Meiri would either crawl up beside her and snuggle in or she would continue to play with her dolls and stuffies on the floor in front of the tv.  Either way, it was a distraction and comfort that Aelin wanted more than anything and had been thinking about all afternoon.

Now, as Aelin trudged the few blocks to her house, she felt a bit of trepidation.  Rowan had texted her letting her know that Meiri’d gotten hungry so they headed back home to fix peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.

Aelin really hoped he didn’t notice how crooked and messed up her cabinet doors were.  Or the fact that the fridge needed to be replaced.  Badly.  Not that it mattered.  He’d seen first hand how messed up her life was, what was a little more chaos in the mix?

Her phone pinged with a new message.  She looked down to see Marion’s name flash on the screen.

Marion: they came to the library Marion: he sat in a tiny plastic chair Marion: nerd

Aelin rolled her eyes.

Aelin: did Meiri seem ok? Marion: yes Marion: he was good with her Marion: for a brute

Aelin felt the bit of unease in her chest loosen.  Marion wouldn’t lie to her, not about this.  She trusted her friend to be a good judgment of character, even if Marion herself was impossible to get to know. 

So, she hurried down the street, turning the last corner down her street.  In the late summer night the sun cast long shadows along the road and the crickets were already out chirping loudly.  The sky hazed the line between gold and gray, already leaving a few stars exposed.

Eager to see her daughter, Aelin climbed the steps to her house and had the door open in record time.  She just wasn’t prepared for what she would see.

Seated on the floor was Rowan holding a pink plastic teacup with several of Meiri’s toys in a half circle around him.  There was a plate of sandwich crusts off to the side.  Meiri herself held her play teapot and beamed up at her mother. 

   “Momma!”  Meiri beamed. “We’re having a tea party!”

Aelin didn’t know what she liked more: seeing her daughter so delighted or the fact that Rowan remained dutifully in his seat even though he was nearly buried by toys and a pink fleece blanket.  To his credit--Rowan only appeared to be mildly confused about the turn of events for the night.

“A tea party?” Aelin gasped, choosing to play into Meiri’s obvious joy. “Wow!  It looks like so much fun.”

“We had peanut butter ‘n jelly sandwiches,” Meiri said, “Rowan doesn’t know how to make pancakes.”

Rowan offered Aelin a small smile. “You don’t have the pre-packaged mix.”

Just like when he’d told her he couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten pancakes--Aelin felt her heart drop in sympathy.  And not for the first time did she wonder about his past and what he’d been through. 

“We can make pancakes another night, Firefly,” Aelin said. “Go get your jammies on and we can read some books before bed.”

Meiri pouted and clutched the plastic teapot to her chest. “No, momma!  Not yet, there’s still tea left!”

It wasn’t often that Meiri didn’t want to read her books, usually their bedtime routine was pretty easy.  Morning wake-ups were the struggle.

Rowan shifted, easing aside the pink blanket Meiri had given him to “snuggle-up” as she liked to call it.

“Hey, Meiri, didn't you get a new book from the library?  The special one Marion found for you?”

The reminder was all Meiri needed before she let out a gasp and ran madly up the stairs to her room.

“Thank Mala,” Aelin muttered.  She collapsed onto the couch, already kicking her shoes off.  The converse were old and would need to be replaced soon.  The soles let in water on a regular basis leaving her in wet socks for most of her shift.  She longed for a pedicure but the nearest salon was three hours away. “Sometimes she drags the tea party out for hours because the tea is invisible and she’s the only one that can see into the teapot because she’s got magic eyes.  I have to bribe her with ice cream to move on.”

Rowan made a noise of amusement, not quite a chuckle and not quite a laugh.  It was more of a sharp exhale.

“Ice cream’s a good distraction,” he agreed.  He began gathering to fold the blanket, tucking it to the side, then grabbed the remains of the sandwiches, standing as he took them to the small kitchen.

“You don’t have to worry about any of that,” Aelin said, “I can take care of it.”

She fingered her golden pendant with its small, opal center.  She didn’t know why she still kept it after all these years.  Maybe she should be proud of herself for not pawning it off for the cash.  But then a part of her was ashamed that she kept it.  Aside from Meiri, it was the only thing Aelin had left that Arobynn had given her.  He’d sent it to her three weeks after he’d left and Aelin had taken it as the last motivator she needed to leave.

“It’s fine,” Rowan called back.  

A moment later the sink came on and he washed the few dishes he’d used.  Aelin watched from where she sat on the couch, a perfect view of Rowan’s back as he worked.  He still wore his black shirt and jeans, his broad back straining against the fabric.

It was strange to have someone else in her kitchen like that.  It was casual and at ease and so utterly foreign that all Aelin could do was watch as he settled the cleaned dishes into the drying rack.  He dried his hands on a dish towel before turning around.  He paused in the doorway between the two room

“Thanks for your help today,” Aelin managed to say.  She dropped the pendant back down the front of her shirt and sat up a little straighter. “And for helping Malakai and Emrys the way you are.”

Rowan shrugged. “It’s the least I can do.”

“Still,” Aelin said, “it’s appreciated.”

He looked uncomfortable at the words as his gaze dropped and shoulders stiffened.  Given how confident and assured he always appeared to be--the action was out of place with how Aelin saw Rowan.

“I’ll head out,” he said. “Let me know if you need anything else.”

Upstairs, Aelin heard Meiri’s pounding feet and slamming drawers.  She glanced back to the room that Rowan used when he first got here.

“The room’s still open,” she said, “if you want it.  I know the cot Malakai has out at the motel isn’t the best.”

Rowan didn’t say anything for a minute as he looked her over, gauging any sort of tell she might give off if her words weren’t genuine.  She’d always shied away from such scrutiny, thanks to Arobynn.  And then the desire to go unnoticed from anyone and everyone.  But Rowan didn’t look at her like anyone else did.  Not like she had something to give him or an expectation to fulfill.  He looked at her like a person, like someone real.

“The cot’s fine,” he said, “I know you value your privacy, and Meiri--”

“Rowan,” Aelin cut him off, “I spent a week on that cot pregnant.  It is not fine.  Besides, your things are still in there since before…before Emrys’ hospital trip.  And it’s late”

It was only eight but that didn’t matter.

Rowan took a minute to contemplate her words before he nodded. “Alright.  I left the key you gave me on the counter.  Figured you’d want it back.”

“Thanks,” Aelin said.  She rose from the couch, already regretting putting weight back on her feet.  She didn’t know what else there was to say or even how to say it.  So she left it as a singular word.

Rowan remained in the doorway to the kitchen.  His broad shoulders blocked out most of the dim light, his stone hewn features unreadable.  He was ruggedly handsome with the stubble growing in and the way his hair flopped a little over his forehead.  The shaggy cut was a mess and Aelin decided that he wasn’t used to it being so grown out.

There was still so much about him that remained a mystery.  Against her better judgment, Aelin found herself intrigued.  But she wouldn’t allow herself to reach out any further than she already had.  She couldn’t.

“Good night,” she said, finally, and turned to the stairs as Meiri called out for her.

“Good night,” Rowan echoed softly as she disappeared.

…

When Aelin awoke the next morning it was to find that Meiri had crawled into bed with her at some point in the night.  A boney elbow was digging into her gut and drool soaked her shoulder.

Aelin peeked down at her daughter who was still out cold and smiled.  Her hair was a tangle around her face, the golden color darkening at the roots.  For the longest time, Meiri had been a little blonde haired blue eyed menace, but as she grew older there were distinct things to her appearance that were changing.

She was still a beautiful girl, smart and funny and the best thing that had ever happened to Aelin but Aelin couldn’t help but wonder if one day in the future, Meiri would ask about her birth father.  How Aelin would handle that she didn’t know.  There had been a few brief questions but those had all been explained away easily--you don’t need a dad, we’re a family all our own, you have plenty of uncles who love you.

But those thoughts always sent Aelin back to thinking about Meiri’s other family.  Her blood family.  She would think about how Aedion would adore her and spoil her rotten with anything and everything.  Her parents would have annual passes to zoos and museums and aquariums galore.  Lysandra would be a phenomenal aunt that would sneak Meiri to get her ears pierced and then early morning pancake dates.  

Aelin looked at her daughter and sighed.  She blinked back tears that were forming and tried to think of other things.  It was almost the weekend and she’d promised Yrene a fun night out with the girls.  Not just that, but she’d told Dorian she would help with some set up of the County Fair.  She was deeply regretting that choice but knew it was too late to back down.

Slowly, she eased out of bed and let Meiri sleep on.  It was best not to wake the beast too early.

Changing into a pair of leggings and t-shirt, Aelin headed downstairs.

She paused when she saw the spare room open.  And because she was nosey and it was technically her house, Aelin crept to the room.  Rowan was gone but he left the bed perfectly made, tucked in tight at the corners.  His duffel bag was zipped up on the floor, looking like it had been to hell and back.  

She shouldn’t have been surprised.  

Pulling back Aelin headed to the kitchen, pausing when out of the front window there was a giant blue truck sitting in front of her house.  It took an embarrassing amount of time for her to realize it was probably Rowan’s truck.  She’d just never seen it in person.  He must have gotten up early to retrieve it from Sartaq.

Curious, Aelin walked to the window.  Immediately she found Rowan.  He had his toolbox at his side and was fixing the uneven planks of the front fence.

Of course he was.

Did the man ever sleep?

She was starting to sincerely doubt it.

As she made for the kitchen Aelin decided she would have to actually try and pay him if he kept this up.  She put on a pot of coffee, the old machine whirring loudly.  One of these days she’d be able to replace it.  As she waited for the brew, she leaned against the counter and sighed.  She had another afternoon shift tonight, but Nehemia would be available to take Meiri, which was probably for the best.

If Rowan was doing everything in his power to get out of this town (despite taking on charity cases to fix up old motels and fences) she didn’t want Meiri getting attached.  Hell, she didn’t want herself getting attached.

A soft buzz drew her attention to the counter where she found a small black phone.  Aelin paused.  It wasn’t hers, but Rowan’s.  It was entirely non descript and cheap looking, a burner phone or one you could buy at Walmart without any fuss.  Just like the one she had.

The phone lit up with another incoming text.

Don’t do it.  Don’t do it.  Don’t do it.

Aelin looked at the screen.  There were three different UNKNOWN messages waiting to be read.

UNKNOWN NUMBER 1: it's not your fault. And none of the others blame you either.  I know you're not… UNKNOWN NUMBER 2: Found a job for you in CA if you want UNKNOWN NUMBER 3: Got your number from Axehound.  Just wanted to ask… UNKNOWN NUMBER 1: I know you’re not dead, Whitethorn. Just tell me if you're in or not and I’ll let them know…

The preview of the messages cut off keeping the rest of the words hidden.  When the screen went blank, Aelin felt just a bit of guilt worm its way through her.  Despite her better judgment, she actually liked Rowan.  And even if he was a stranger with an unknown past--he was just trying tread water. 

Aelin fixed two cups of coffee, one with cream and sugar for herself and the other she left as the plain dark roast.  She headed out to the front porch with every intention of dropping the mug off on the banister and calling out to Rowan that it was there, but dammit, she got distracted.

Because Rowan was currently standing shirtless in her front yard glaring daggers at the fence he was trying to fix.

Even within the first few seconds of first meeting him (was that a week ago now?) Aelin had known he was attractive.  His face was rugged and stamped with stubble, his green eyes brilliant and steady.  She’d been able to tell that he was well built too, but she’d just never realized how well off he was.

Even yesterday she’d gotten distracted at his shirtless attire, but he’d rectified that rather quickly without giving her time to ogle.  Now, in the early morning warmth, he was shirtless once again, a sheen of sweat glistening on hard packed muscles, only emphasizing his tan skin.  Dark whorls of tattoos ran up one arm and across half his chest, the army ranger tattoo in the midst of them.  He was a greek god personified and she wouldn’t not be ashamed to admit it.

His dark wash jeans slung low on his hips, a worn leather tool belt as well.  He looked well at home with a nail between his teeth and hammer in one hand.  Even if he was scowling.  

She knew the fence was a wreck and had never bothered to try and fix it on her own.  She’d always been outside with Meiri anyways and she’d never been one to wander off.  They didn’t have a dog or pet so making sure the gate remained shut wasn’t an issue either.  She would have tried to fix it herself if she’d known where to start.

Rowan seemed to sense presence because he looked up just then, meeting her gaze.

“Morning,” Aelin called, hoping the flush on her skin wasn’t too noticeable.  She held up the cup of coffee she’d made for him.  Hello Sunshine beamed happily on the edges. “Coffee?”

Seeming to be lost in his own thoughts, it took Rowan a moment before he nodded slowly.  Looping the hammer back in the belt, he slowly made his way back to the porch and tucked the loose nail into one of the pockets on the belt as well.

“Thanks,” he said, accepting the mug.  He took a long swallow, either not noticing or not caring it was straight black coffee.

“You don’t have to do this, y’know,” Aelin said.  She nodded out towards the fence. “It’s more of a hassle than it’s worth.”

“It’s the least I can do,” he replied, “I don’t have money right now to repay you for letting me stay.  Fixing the truck took more than I was expecting.”

“I can pay--” Aelin began just as she had last night when he’d watched Meiri.

He shook his head. “That’s not what I meant.  Just--don’t worry about it.”

Aelin stared at him, with the sun at his back it was hard to get a good look at his expression.  But she supposed she could let this go.  For now.  She never liked being in someone's debt, knowing they were doing more for her than she them.  She knew it was conditioning from Arobynn.  For the few years they were together he had conditioned her into giving away bits and pieces of herself to make sure he was happy.  All she’d ever wanted was to make sure he was taken care of.  Most of it was out of self-preservation and only now that she was free of him was she beginning to see just how manipulative he’d been.

  Instinctively, she knew that Rowan wasn’t the same person as Arobynn.  And she really did believe that Rowan wanted to help.  But with the little she knew about his past and those messages she’d seen on his phone--he was caught up in more than he was letting on and Aelin didn’t know if that was worth overlooking.

“Will you be heading out now that the truck’s done?” she asked.  It was either that or ask exactly what he was running from.

Rowan took another long gulp of coffee before running a hand across his bare neck.  It was barely eight in the morning, but the sun had already decided to bare down on them with a new fury.  His tan skin glistened with sweat and this close, Aelin could make out the scars that along his chest and side.  One in particular looked nasty with the way the skin puckered and still had a pink tinge along the edge.  It was a little too long to be a bullet wound, shrapnel maybe.

“Nah,” he said, “I told Malakai I’d help get the motel ready.  I intend to keep my word on that.”

“I thought you had to get to California?” she pressed.  Seeing as how it had been the only thing he would talk about for the first two days of being in Terrasen, she found it hard to believe he’d let go of the plan so easily.

That had Rowan looking away from her and off in the distance toward the direction of the mountains that rose up in the distance.  From that angle, Aelin could see the growth of stubble tracing across his features, the subtle deeper shades of green in his eyes. His jaw flexed and Aelin had a brief moment where she thought she could read his thoughts as plainly as if he’d spoken them aloud.

I’m not ready for that.

“It can wait,” he said instead.

She didn’t believe him.  And she wished she could press him for information, to understand what was working in his thoughts and why he was so insistent on keeping his past in the past.

“Just one more question,” she said, turning back to him, one hand reaching out of the doorknob. “Do you ever sleep?  All you seem to actually do is handiwork and child wrangling.”

She meant it to be lighthearted, a little teasing of sorts.  But knew almost instantly it was the wrong thing to say.  But it was hard not to notice how she’d never actually seen him asleep.  That he was always up far too early than any human should be.  That he never seemed to rest.  In fact, last night with Meiri’s tea party was the first time Aelin had seen Rowan somewhat at ease.  And spending several hours in the presence of a five-year old was not a picnic.

Rowan set his half empty mug of coffee on the front porch step (an obvious means of avoiding a question if Aelin ever saw one).

“I don’t need a lot of sleep,” he said.  

It was the worst lie he’d told her since his arrival.  Aelin stared at him for an extra few seconds in case he wanted to change his mind.  But he didn’t.

“Alright.”  Aelin sipped her own coffee. “Well, I’m making oatmeal for breakfast if you want something to eat.”

“No pancakes?”  The ghost of a smile flashed on his lips.

Rolling her eyes, Aelin leaned against the porch railing. “No.  So you may have to prepare yourself for a very pissed-off five-year-old.”

That got a real smile that caused small wrinkles to spread at the corners of Rowan’s eyes.  It gave him a soft look, similar to that kind easy nature she’d seen on him last night when he’d willingly given into Meiri’s every whim.

“You don’t--” he began.

“You’re worse than my child,” Aelin cut him off.  She gave him a significant look. “You’re going to eat breakfast so you can have a good day.  It’s important to eat so we can grow healthy and strong and take over the world.”

It was the same thing she recited to Meiri whenever she didn’t want to eat something or when she didn’t want to try something new.  It was usually only a nudge to encourage her daughter, but sometimes a little more forceful.  Like now.

“Take over the world, huh?” he asked.

“It’s on the to-do list.” And with that, Aelin turned back to head inside the house.  “Breakfast is in twenty minutes.”

.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.

not ready to try tagging again. reblogs appreciated

[lovebillyhargrove]

A short continuation of Pretty Boy Help Me

where it starts with the camaro having powers and killing a couple of people in Hawkins, then going after Steve. But Steve has understood a lot of things. He repairs the car. They bond. One evening Steve comes outside to find this on the camaro's windshield

***

Steve knows now, Billy is alive. He is somewhere, but where?? There's no Hopper to ask for help. The Byers have moved away.

Steve needs help locating him.

***

His hands are shaking.

He's pressing the button on the walkie talkie

Max, I need to talk to you!

Oh shit, he forgot to say "over"

Max, over!

His voice is vibrating with excitement. Billy is fucking alive. He is alive, and he asked Steve for help.

Max is not answering.

Mike, come through, Mike? This is Steve! Are you there? Over.

No-one is answering!

They haven't used these walkie-talkies for a while now, is it absolutely not a thing anymore?

He hears static noise and the walkie starts talking, fucking finally

Steve, this is Dustin. What is going on? Over.

Heey, hey buddie. I uh .. do you happen to know El's phone number in California?

...

You gotta say over. Over.

I need El's phone number in California.

Silence

OVER.

Yeah, man, I don't know. You gotta ask Mike or Max. They'll know. Over.

I tired but they aren't answering this stupid thing! Over.

I can call them on the phone. I'll get back to you. Over.

***

Seven minutes later the phone rings.

Dustin?

Yep that's me. Here's the number .. Why do you need it all of a sudden?

Uh.. nothing important. I just want to ask El a couple of questions.

About? ..

California. I'm thinking of going there on vacation in spring!

Really?.. Okay, man. Cool.

Thanks.

No problem.

Okay, bye!

Hey, Ste..

It's late. Also, maybe there's like .. time difference and shit, but Steve doesn't have time to figure it out.

He calls the number straight away.

***

El is happy to hear him. She's okay there, but she misses Hopper and she misses Mike. She's also been having weird dreams about Hopper, and about Billy. So she's happy Steve has called her because she needs this conversation. And Steve needs help.

El promises to do her thing. To go into the void, try to contact Billy.

Next day she calls Steve and tells him that she couldn't find Billy but it is very very possible, Billy's trapped in the upside down. Has been trapped there for months. How he manages to survive there, god only knows.

Steve wants to go to the other dimension. But how? He needs a portal.

El goes on the search again. Turns out, there is a small gate between the worlds. It's where the ruins of Starcourt are.

Steve goes to the abandoned mall. It's half demolished and it's creepy and it brings all the terrifying memories back.

He drives there in the camaro and talks to it on the way. Tells it everything, although he has a feeling the car knows at least half of it.

Leaves it near the ghost of a building. He has his bat with, his bandana and goggles. His lighter and a can of gasoline, just in case.

Oh, and a bottle of water and some sandwiches he's made while planning the whole thing.

He didn't plan shit. He even didn't tell any of the kids. Only El knows, and she's so far away she won't be able to come to the rescue, if the upside down trip goes sideways.

The camaro stands still and watches Steve disappear through the wall. The portal wasn't easy to find in all the debris, but it's there. Steve slips through the slime and finds himself on the dark side of Hawkins.

***

Billy could be in several places actually. The Upside down, a government secret lab getting experimented on, or just a government secret hospital, unconscious/conscious and healing. A Russian prison is a possibility, but an unlikely one, he wasn't down there in the Russian base, so how could Russians pick up his body from above especially if they were in a hurry to get away

Let it be the UD this time

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