#this is really just shmoop I'm afraid

[solarmorrigan]

39 + 95, ship of your choice

Fanfiction Trope Mashup: 39. Survival/Wilderness Fic + 95. Sleep Intimacy

Hello! So I'm going to be honest with you and say that survival/wilderness stories have always given me anxiety and I've never enjoyed reading them, so the closest I got in writing one was a camping fic. I know it's not the same, but hopefully this is alright <3 (ship of choice was Steddie)

-

You might not know it to look at him, but Eddie had been an outdoorsy kind of kid.

He’d loved playing outside (he’s still the king of finding cool sticks to use as wizard staffs) and he’d always looked forward to his and Wayne’s annual camping trips. Wayne had taught him a lot about surviving in the wilderness on those long weekends, and Eddie had looked at them as grand adventures.

Eventually, of course, Eddie had gained other interests, and Wayne’s hours at the plant had changed, and the camping trips had petered to a stop. Eddie looks on the memories fondly, but doesn’t necessarily feel the need to go back and relive them (particularly not after the days he spent roughing it during the spring break from Hell). He’s happy to leave the outdoorsy activities to Steve these days. Steve loves going hiking, loves swimming, doesn’t even mind doing yardwork; he’s the one people would look at and assume he’d spent his childhood outdoors, except–

“You’ve never been camping?” Eddie asks, sitting up to look down at Steve where he’s squished in beside Eddie on a pool lounger that is absolutely not meant to fit two people.

Steve shrugs. “I always wanted to go, used to ask my dad a lot, and he used to promise he’d take me when he could get the time off of work,” he says. “I think he got pretty fed up with my asking, though, so I just kinda… stopped.”

Well, damn, if that doesn’t poke at a soft spot in Eddie’s hardened little heart.

“We could go,” Eddie blurts.

Steve blinks up at him. “What?”

“Me and Wayne used to go camping every year. I remember a lot of how it’s done, so… you and I could go,” Eddie offers. “If you want.”

“Yeah?” Steve asks, a smile blooming across his face.

Eddie can’t help his answering smile. “Shit, yeah. Let’s go.”

If it makes Steve this happy, Eddie thinks in between Steve’s excited little kisses of thanks, then even if it goes terribly, Eddie won’t regret offering.

It takes a little bit to finagle their schedules and get time off together, but they manage it on the first nice weekend in spring. They pack Steve’s car up with a tent and sleeping bags and provisions and everything else Eddie can remember them needing (and a few things Wayne helpfully reminds him of), and they set off on their adventure.

The weekend starts off well. They set up the tent with minimal swearing, and manage to get a fire going, and explore the trails surrounding their camp, and spend the first night looking at the stars that shine brighter here than they do over Hawkins, and it’s nice.

It’s nice right up until Midwestern weather rears its unpredictable head while Eddie and Steve are out hiking on Saturday afternoon. The clouds roll in fast, rain-scented wind kicking up and shaking the limbs of the trees above them; they turn around to head back to camp, but they aren’t quick enough to beat the incoming rainstorm.

They’re soaked by the time they reach the tent, running and spluttering and laughing breathlessly, zipping the flap shut behind them and shucking their wet clothes before they can drip all over everything. They leave them in a heap off to the side, hopefully to be line-dried later, and do their best to dry off in the confined space.

“Gonna be hard to warm up without the fire,” Steve comments as he tries to scrub the rainwater out of his hair.

The weather has been nice, but not so nice that standing around damp and in their underwear is particularly comfortable. Even in the close space of the tent, the air isn’t warm, and Eddie eyes the goosebumps texturing the bare expanse of Steve’s tanned skin.

“I have an idea,” Eddie says, and Steve looks up at him expectantly. “C’mere.”

Eddie nods to the little nest they’d made the previous night by zipping two sleeping bags together and covering it with a couple of extra blankets. They don’t bother with dry clothes – isn’t skin-to-skin contact better for warming up, after all? Eddie slides in first and Steve joins him, immediately pressing the line of his body up against Eddie’s, curling an arm around his waist, tangling their legs, and resting his cheek against Eddie’s chest. Eddie tucks the blankets up a little closer around the both of them and settles down, wrapping both arms around Steve’s back.

“How’s this?” he asks.

He can feel Steve’s contented sigh as much as he can hear it, and Steve wiggles a little against Eddie’s front, as if there’s any space left between them to eliminate.

“This is good,” Steve says softly.

And it is, Eddie decides. He presses a kiss to the top of Steve’s head, where the earthy smell of the rain lingers, underscored by the faint, familiar scent of Steve’s shampoo. Rain continues to patter against the roof of their tent, and the soft, dim afternoon light does nothing to discourage either of them from beginning to drift.

If it can always be like this, Eddie doesn’t think he’d mind making camping an annual thing again. He wouldn’t mind at all.

[johnwickb1tsch]

I demand when John met Helen (please?🥺)

Anything for you, my love! 😘😘😘

(this is an outline-ish thing from...last january? I don't know if ill ever truly write it out, so here's the whole caboodle)

warnings: violence, serious amts of shmoop

Helen goes to a rare book shop curious if they can fix the binding of her dog eared copy of Jane Eyre. They quote her an insane price. She has a meet cute with John in the shop. Maybe she's looking through the classics, trying to find a copy of Jane Eyre so she doesn't destroy her other one more. Maybe she tells him she can't afford to fix her copy. She brought it in to ask. He is sheepish about it, but he says he could fix it for her. “What would you charge?” 

“Nothing. It's a hobby for me. I do it for relaxation.” 

“Wow. Are you sure?”

“Absolutely. You'd be doing me a favor. I could use a new project.”

She cants her head, looking at him. Weighing him. He finds himself standing up a little straighter, hoping he'll make the cut. 

“Ok. But you at least have to let me buy you lunch.” 

“I would like that,” he admits. 

“Deal.” She holds out her hand to shake. He takes her small hand in his, and doesn't want to let go. 

So he fixes her book. 

They go to lunch. And when it's time to part ways, they don't really want to. They go for a walk. And keep talking. He shyly asks if he can take her to dinner. She agrees eagerly. They fall in love in the span of a week, or maybe just that one perfect day. 

They have a date set but John has to text her to say he's not feeling well. She offers to bring him soup. He says that sounds amazing, but he doesn't want her to see him like this. In truth, he was working, and things got out of hand. He's told her he works in security. But she is not prepared for how he looks. 

Black eye. Cuts on his face. Bruised ribs. Bruises everywhere, really. 

She worries that he's trying to break their date. Making up an excuse. He can hear it in her voice. Scared he’ll lose her, (and wanting badly to see her) he agrees to let her come over that night, not sure how it will go. 

He thinks about his Manhattan apartment. Expensive, modern, very few personal touches. He's afraid she'll hate it. 

When she comes over with takeout she is shocked, and teary eyed. Seeing him in pain like this hurts her. 

“Oh my god, John, what happened to you?” 

“Sometimes, my work gets a little...spicy?” 

Lol. She just looks at him. That look. 

“I'm guessing you can't actually tell me what happened.” 

With a sad smile he shakes his head. “I want to share everything I can with you,” he admits. “But some things, it's better you don't know.” 

She chews on her lip as he tells her this. He wonders if this will be their deal breaker. But in the end she nods. “Ok, John. I trust you.”

Hearing that makes him feel better than the pain pills he'd taken earlier. 

“We could...watch a movie?” he offers, thinking snuggling with her in his arms might fix him. 

“Okay.” 

He falls asleep halfway through, and she holds him, looking at his wounds. He looks so boyish and innocent in his sleep. She fights not to cry. 

To make up for ruining their date night he offers to cook her dinner. Afterwards they kiss, in front of the window, the lights of New York shining down below. He pulls her against him, squeezing her in his strong arms like he can't get enough of her. It steals her breath away, she wants him so much.

Later,  they're out and about. She hugs him under his suit jacket, feels a blocky shape at his back. “Are you...carrying a gun?” 

“Honestly, I'm usually carrying a gun,” he admits.

After the business that went sideways, he doesn't want to get caught unawares. He can tell she doesn’t like it, but trusts him enough to go along with it. 

“Ok…”

Something happens where she gets to see him in action. It's awesome... and scary, honestly. Maybe they're walking to his car when they're ambushed by five guys. The leader is like, “Evening, John.”

“This isn't a good time, Mickey.”

M looks between Helen and John with a leer. “No time like the present, I say.”

They fight, and John lays them all out. In the end he’s taken Micky’s gun and is about to shoot him in the face. It's instinct and reflex. Finish the job. But he hears a gasp behind him. Looks to see Helen looking terrified. So he disassembles the gun. Drops all the bullets into Mickey’s face before throwing the pieces at him. 

“Come on, sweetheart, let's go.” They drive away. She is in shock. 

Afterwards, they go park somewhere with a view of the city below. She is only looking at him though. “I scared you,” he says. It's not really a question. 

“Yes and no,” she answers honestly. “I don't believe you would ever hurt me.” 

“Good. It's the truth.” 

“But I…” She trails off.

“It's OK,” he sighs, feeling so tired inside. “You can say it.” 

“I'm not sure I really believe your job is legal, John.” 

He sighs and looks at the steering wheel. “You... might be right about that.” 

She nods. His heart is in his throat. This is it. This is how he loses her, he's convinced. And she has every right to leave. He never had any business pursuing her in the first place, but…it feels like dying. 

He waits for the axe to fall, his eyes squeezed closed. 

“I don't know how to reconcile the man I saw today, and the man I know who repairs books, and cooks me gourmet dinners, and takes me on long walks while holding my hand.” 

John rests his forehead on his steepled fingers. “I’ve...never really had a choice. I was trained from childhood, to do what I do, for very bad people. It doesn't excuse me...but it is what it is. Maybe I enjoyed it, once. I am not a good man. But now…” He looks at her, with the look of a drowning man. “I would give anything, just to have you.” 

There are tears in her eyes too, he realizes. 

“Do you have to do it, forever?” she asks. “Is there no way out?” 

He shakes his head, to himself as much as her. “It's very rare,” he tells her. “And very difficult.”

She nods, and moves closer. “Will you hold me?” 

“Always.” 

He pulls her in close, thinking he could die happy like this, with her in his arms. 

Later, he asks point blank. He has to know, he can't contain it. “Are you leaving me, Helen?”

He's so certain the answer is yes. She'll try to let him down softly. I'm not sure I can do this. It's not you, it's me. 

He can hardly believe his ears when she answers, “You're not getting rid of me that easily, John Wick.”

He's not sure if the sound he makes is a laugh or a sob. He kisses her, desperate for the affirmation of her love, hardly able to believe his luck. He feels like his heart might explode, for all the love he feels for this woman. 

“I love you so fucking much,” he growls as he kisses her like he might devour her. 

Likewise, she tells him with tears in her eyes and her fingers in his hair. “Don't stop kissing me.” 

“Never,” he tells her. 

The next week he finds himself buying a ring. 

And the week after that, he finds himself bargaining with Viggo Tarasov, his freedom in exchange for slaughtering all of the boss’s rivals in one mad night of mayhem. 

If anyone can do it, it’s John Wick.