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mediocre-daydreams · 2 years

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IDK IF YOUR PROMPT LIST IS FOR REQS BUT I JUST HAD A BRILLIANT IDEA peter parker x stark! OR avenger!reader and they both have obvious crushes on eachother but don’t know how to approach it so the ALL of the avengers just decide to push them together by driving peter insane with jealousy, EVERY SINGLE ONE OF THEM is just like “if nothing’s going on between you two, you won’t mind if I ask them out right?” OR just them hogging all of r’s time and being close to them and kissing r’s hands or lifting r into the air and just absolutely smothering her, but ITS EVERY SINGLE AVENGER IN THEIR OWN WAY (it doesn’t have to be immensely flirty but for some characters), and peter does not know why the fuck everyone is throwing themselves at r all but he of a sudden AND HE DOES NOT LIKE IT ONE BIT and reader is plain confused but enjoying the way everyone’s being so nice to them lately and it all leads to a “BECAUSE I LOVE YOU1!1!” with a flushed peter parker and him just heaving and catching his breathe after he says it

i adore this!! i had hoped to keep this under 3k but of course i ended up writing a full fic and jesus christ i need to learn how to compress anyways here u go!!! thank u for this request <3

(un)requited infatuation

pairing: peter parker x avenger! reader

summary: peter parker is in love with you and he won't do anything about it. but if there's nothing going on between the two of you, the rest of the avengers are free to make their moves, right?

warnings: idiots to lovers, jealous! peter, swearing, really really brief insinuation to sex, a lot of horrible flirting, partial nudity (not sexual), a mini-argument between sam and peter and it's like 5% angst, and tall girl 2.

w/c: 6.4k

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“you don’t think i want to?” peter groaned, rubbing his forehead with frustration.

“trust me, all of us know you want to,” bucky deadpanned. the 40s man in him was dying to slap some sense into the kid, but the post-soldier bucky knew it would be hypocritical, seeing as his love life had been smaller than a pym particle ever since he left wakanda.

“all of us know you want her,” sam sighed, slinging a heavy arm over peter’s shoulder, jostling him as if it would knock some sense into the love-stricken spiderboy. “and trust me, most of us do not want to know how much you want her.”

peter blushed. “i- i have no idea what you’re talking about.”

with his free hand, sam maneuvered peter into a tight hold and shook him vigorously. maybe it wasn’t the most elegant strategy, but they were avengers, after all. being all fighty and confrontational was their thing.

“listen up man, i’m actually going to kill y-”

“hey bucky, sam… peter?” you had that ever-present skip in your step as you passed by the trio, your signature bright smile melting peter just a little bit more. your chirpy expression only faltered when you saw peter, looking like a deboned fish, in sam’s arms.

“is peter, like, good?” you squinted, eyes flickering between the three men as you tried to figure out who had liquified the boy.

“yep! all good here!” peter squeaked weakly from sam’s arms, trying to stand straight and regain his dignity. you smiled awkwardly.

“great! uh, i’m glad you’re good. anyways… bye,” you grimaced, feeling a little disheartened at the way the three avengers had stiffened at your appearance. you were new to the team, but you’d made such an effort to get to know everybody and that made it hurt even more when you saw that bucky, sam, and peter still didn’t like you.

“i think that’s enough of our ministrations for today.” bucky pried peter from sam’s arms and patted peter on the head reassuringly, if not a little patronizingly. “you’ll get the girl one day. even if that day is far, far into the future.”

as bucky and sam walked off, peter buried his face in his hands. fuck you! he’d been infatuated with you since you first arrived, and watching how quickly you’d bonded with the rest of the team, seeing you in action, and being on the receiving end of your kindness had only intensified his feelings. unfortunately, he only seemed to get worse and worse at interacting with you the more and more he fell. it wasn’t his fault that you were so pretty, and clever, and brave, and thoughtful, and-

from afar, bucky and sam watched as peter drowned in his incompetency. the two of them had been unsuccessfully playing matchmaker for peter since they’d realized his feelings for you—which didn’t take long; the boy wasn’t exactly subtle or good at keeping secrets—and they were fuming.

“i think it’s time to pull out the big guns,” bucky declared, locking eyes with sam, who steeled his jaw in determination and nodded forcefully.

“seconded, brother. tomorrow. at sunrise. operation idiot is officially in play.”

“hey doll,” bucky smiled at you charmingly as you rubbed your eyes to rid yourself of any sleep crust and scratched your arm. you hummed at him in half hearted greeting, not conscious enough to recognize (much less reciprocate) his flirting.

you yawned, opening a cabinet to search for the new mug you may or may not have purchased just to piss tony off. of course. he’d placed it on the highest shelf, at the very back, thinking you wouldn’t bother digging around to find it. well, he was fucking wrong.

(the mug. at least, it's my depiction of the mug. u can imagine ur own of course)

you hoised one foot over the countertop to try and find some footing as you jumped up, grounding yourself on your knees and steadying yourself on the marble. bucky chuckled, watching you struggle. he came up from behind you, tugging down at your oversized sleep shirt and making you jump in surprise. you whipped your head around only to find yourself face-to-face with his chest.

“bucky, what the fuck are you doing?” you mumbled, making no effort to push him away. you were too uncaffinated to deal with his antics.

“just being a gentleman.” you seated yourself fully, legs dangling over the counter as you leaned into the warmth of bucky’s chest. even this early in the morning, he smelled like his woodsy cologne and you were tempted to bury your head in his henley and continue sleeping. it was pointless to entertain that daydream. steve scheduled a mandatory training session for 6:15, not thinking much of the time, because he, unlike you, was a morning person.

you could hear the slow trickle of other grumpy avengers shuffle their way into the kitchen. your line of sight was squarely blocked by bucky, and you figured since you weren’t able to see anything anyways, it wouldn’t hurt to close your eyes for just a second, right?

“by the way, your shirt was riding up. i didn’t think you wanted anyone else to see that,” he chided, searching through the top-shelf mugs for the one you were looking for. you could hear faint clicking before your forehead slammed into bucky’s chest and you dozed off.

“are you- did you fall asleep?” bucky cupped your chin softly, admiring your ability to sleep so easily. okay, fine. maybe he was a little jealous.

he set your stupid mug on the counter beside you and wrapped your arm around his neck so he could carry you off your precarious position. you were unaware of your surroundings, still contentedly asleep as bucky gingerly placed you on a couch.

“she’s out?” rhodey raised his eyebrows, sipping his coffee to hide his amused grin.

“yeah. pretty girl’s out.” bucky moved to stroke your hair, sneaking a glance at peter from his peripheral. his grip on the handle of his mug was so strong that bucky could see the veins peter’s forearms bulging. he stifled a laugh. he considered kissing your forehead, but he knew it was too early. the fun had just begun.

as more avengers congregated, the hushed morning whispers had turned into fully voiced complaints and the clattering of utensils as everyone scrambled to fuel themselves before training. you blinked blearily, waking up to the sight of wanda’s face smiling prettily above you. her red hair draped around your face.

“wan?” you groaned, pushing her out of the way so you could sit up and stretch. you slapped yourself a couple times to wake yourself up.

“you’re cute when you sleep,” wanda giggled, kissing your cheek. “you and me and nat should have a sleepover sometime.”

natasha waved you over from a stool at the island. “good morning, sleeping beauty.” she kissed the crown of your head and rubbed your back, looking right over you to make direct eye contact with peter, who quickly looked away. his jaw was clenched.

“here, have some of my smoothie,” wanda cooed, cupping your cheek with a delicate hand. you mumbled you appreciation as she held her glass out for you; you sipped from her straw under wanda’s watchful gaze. her face was just inches from yours.

“you know, we technically just kissed,” she joked, poking your cheek. you laughed, her teasing giving you a burst of energy.

“we don’t need any technicalities. you and me. sleepover. i’ll kiss you stupid,” you rebutted, snatching the glass from wanda altogether, slurping away.

the witch bit her lip as she and nat exchanged smug looks. though peter was pretending not to look, his thoughts were so loud that wanda didn’t need to put any effort in to read his mind. peter was furiously. wordlessly, he slammed his green juice on the table and stormed off to the gym.

“what’s wrong with him today?” you were too distracted by your drink to really care.

“i have absolutely no clue,” natasha shrugged.

you were half an hour in and you wanted to die and/or curse out steve. he looked perfectly fine even after lapping you twice already. he wasn’t even sweating.

you’d run four miles and a stitch had already begun to creep its way into your side. you clutched your waist, slowing to a jog as natasha made her way over.

“if you’re done running, why don’t we have some fun?” she watched as peter’s punching bag took a harder hit, spinning from the force of his punch when he heard natasha’s suggestive comment. you didn’t pick up on it.

“wanna spar?” you challenged, raising to your toes and getting in her face, moving side to side as if you were swaggering.

“you’re on, sweetheart.”

the two of you were frequent sparring partners. you’d been working together for so long that your matches were more like dances, and you’d gotten so familiar with each others’ patterns that it had forced the two of you to develop new moves and strategies. mutually beneficial.

you moved to wrap your hands, but steve beat you to it.

“allow me,” he motioned for you to sit down as he took your hand in his larger one. the two of you sat in comfortable silence, with the only noise being quiet conversations between breaks and the sound of pants and grunts from the other avengers mid-workout.

“you look beautiful today,” steve smiled, looking up from your hands to admire your face.

“i look like i’ve just run four miles and am about to pass out,” you countered, rolling your eyes. “and that’s because i have.”

steve laughed, even though what you said really wasn’t that funny. you furrowed your brows at him, confused. steve’s sense of humor was mostly dad jokes and outdated references. whatever; it wasn’t like you were about to complain about the supersoldier learning to loosen up.

when he’d finished with his wrapping, he brought your hand up to his lips and kissed the back. you blushed, having not expected such affection from the man who’d torturously forced you awake on a wednesday morning.

“now you be careful in there,” he lectured, wrapping his hand around your head to stroke your hair. you were in the direct line of sight of his biceps, and you couldn’t help but blush. “go easy on natasha. we both know you’re quite talented.”

you felt your face heat up even more and you prayed that your reaction wasn’t visible. “t-thanks, steve. that means a lot coming from captain america.”

peter had stopped punching to watch the interaction between you and steve. steve wasn’t known to be particularly adoring or play favorites among trainees, much less with his fellow avengers, so peter couldn’t help but feel a bubble of resentment swell in his gut. it wasn’t directed towards you, but to steve. peter was fully aware of your talent and ability in the field. heck, you’d gotten him out of tough situations more times than he could count. so what if he was bitter by the fact that steve was able to vocalize those praises to you while he could barely hold a conversation past small talk with you?

it wasn’t fair. you flourished under steve’s reverent stare and seemed to grow taller with each compliment he bestowed upon you. if steve had been interested in you before, why hadn’t he said something earlier? peter had recognized how incredible you were the moment he met you. it wasn’t fair that steve had taken months to reach the same conclusion yet still got the privilege of flirting with you when peter wasn’t even sure if you considered him to be a friend.

he couldn’t control himself as he watched steve held open the ropes and you ducked between them smoothly. he couldn’t help his trailing gaze as your thighs swiftly moved and as your back ducked between the ropes and he couldn’t help imagining what it’d be like if instead of the ring, your thighs were wrapped around his neck and wriggling as he-

nope. he cracked his knuckles, tearing his eyes away. he cursed his earlier self. he should’ve worn darker colored shorts. sam, who was being spotted by bucky as he lifted weights, set the bar down and kicked bucky in the shin. sam pointed to peter, who’d thrown himself into a concentrated haze of pull ups. his spider bite had made pull ups especially easy for peter, and today, he was moving twice as fast as usual.

“oh, he’s jealous alright,” bucky whispered from the corner of his mouth. he raised his eyebrows at sam.

“don’t every worry about it,” sam maintained. “i’ve got the perfect ending planned.”

the best part of finishing training was the promised movie night that you and rhodey had negotiated in. you needed a break sometimes, you’d argued, and movie nights were good for team bonding as well as an effective and entertaining way to relax after a gruelling day.

you lost yourself in a steamy shower haze as you brainstormed all the movies you were planning on fighting for that evening. you had originally been leaning towards a horror movie, just to spite steve, who was a strictly romcom fan, but after he’d doted on you in the gym and left you all flustered, you felt like you couldn’t do that to him.

humming a quiet tune to yourself, you went through your normal skincare routine and dried your hair, taking care to keep it protected after it’d been in such a tight updo the whole day. you wrapped yourself in a towel, preparing to change into something more comfortable, before you realized you’d left your favorite set of pajamas in wanda’s room after your last sleepover. no worries, her room was only a few doors down from yours.

stepping into some slippers and into your undergarments, you shuffled your way over to wanda with the towel still tightly wrapped around your body. you weren’t particulary uncomfortable with wandering the halls like this; injuries were an inevitable part of the field and most of the avengers had seen each other in some state of undress when tending to each others’ wounds. it wasn’t inherently sexual.

“wanda?” you called softly, shifting awkwardly so you could knock on the door while still covering yourself. you knocked again, raising your voice.

“m’lady?” came a booming voice from behind you.

“aaah!” you shrieked.

“aaah!” thor screamed.

“aaah!” wanda gasped.

you’d dropped your towel, frightened by thor’s booming voice from behind you. you scrambled to pick it up as thor covered his eyes and dramatically lamented.

“my fine maiden, i have corrupted your modesty!” he boomed, spinning around with heavy thumps of his feet. you tried to comfort him, wrapping yourself up again. at this point, it didn’t really matter. what had been done was done, and you were thankful that you’d at least put on undergarments before leaving your room.

“thor, it’s fine, really, i-”

nat and rhodey stuck their heads out of their rooms at the sound of the god’s loud cries.

“how can i ever repent? a fair lady such as yourself should never have to experience such intrusive exposure!” he wailed. “‘tis my fault, m’lady! i have breached your privacy. this is an egregious act! how ever can i redeem myself? i offer my sincerest apologies.” thor dropped to his knees with a loud thud, eyes still covered.

“‘c’mon thor, it’s all good. we’re all good, okay? apology accepted. you haven’t, uh, breached my, um, modesty. my exposure is not… intruded?” you sunk down to his level and patted his giant arm comfortingly. “there, there.”

thor cracked open his fingers and peered out at your shyly. “really?”

“yep,” you said, popping your p and giving him one last firm pat. you turned to wanda. “can i have my pajamas? please?”

she ushered you into her room and slammed the door shut behind her as natasha and rhodey howled with laughter at the red-faced god of thunder.

“…and then, my towel dropped and thor saw me practically naked and he was bawling,” you wheezed, slapping your knee as the avengers around you howled with laughter at thor’s expense. his arms were crossed like a toddler having a temper tantrum, and you slid over to him so you could give him a tight hug.

peter froze, eyes widening as he took in the scene before him. he’d taken some time to clean his room and in the meanwhile, most of the avengers had already gathered for movie night and apparently, you and thor had found time to get naked. he wanted to die.

“it’s okay, big guy.” your arms were only able to wrap around half of his body, but his tense muscles relaxed under your touch. thor glanced over at bucky and caught his wink. thor nodded in understanding.

with a surprised squeak, you found yourself lifted up by two strong hands and placed onto thor’s lap. thor hugged you tightly from behind. “thank you, fair maiden. you are too forgiving. in asgard, you would be championed for your kindness.”

you tilted your head back to meet his gaze. he smiled down at you fondly and patted your cheek. peter, blood boiling, couldn’t bring himself to look away as he watched the two of you cozy up on the couch. he took a seat in the closest open space, which just so happened to be between sam and the end of the couch. sam pursed his lips to hold back his mischievous glee.

you were laughing at all of thor’s jokes. why didn’t you ever laugh at his jokes? oh, that’s right. because he never told any jokes in front of you, because he was too fucking nervous.

tony strutted into the common area, arms laden with bags of candy. he tossed them in the air and they showered the group, some of them hitting heads and some of them falling directly into open hands.

“over here!” rhodey called to you, waving a bag of swedish fish in the air. you groaned, but excused yourself from thor’s cuddles. peter wanted to sink into the couch cushions. all day, the avengers had been hitting on you, going so far as to do you favors and even give you special treatment that they’d never given to anyone else. it was as if suddenly, everyone had come to the startling realization that you were beautiful and incredible and priceless. peter thought it was unfair. he’d been the first to recognize that, but all of a sudden, you were surrounded by admirers who’d stolen you from peter’s lovestricken grasp. the fact that you were so kind to everyone who’d adored you today and had never taken advantage of all their efforts only made him angrier. you were so fucking sweet, and he wanted to punch you in the face because of it.

tony groaned. “don’t start this, rhodey.” he only smirked. you stood in front of rhodey with your arms crossed, a withering glare burning through rhodey’s face as you evaluated his bag of swedish fish.

“i am confiscating this illegal substance.�� you held your hand out impatiently. “you are being charged with the posession and use of dangerous substances.”

rhodey popped another swedish fish in his mouth, chewing obnoxiously on the sticky candy.

“oh yeah? and what gives you the right?”

“i- i’m making a citizen’s arrest. this is a threat to public safety! your fumes are contaminating the air, and whatever this-” you grabbed the bag from his hand, “-is, it’s a menace. it should be criminal to enjoy these. god, peter could probably base his web fluid off of whatever’s in this candy—that’s how sticky it is!”

peter’s head perked up like a summoned puppy at the sound of his name, which did not escape the observation of sam and bucky.

“i- yeah! did you know i make my own web fluid?” he blurted to his own mortification.

“i do! it’s so sick, i don’t know how you managed to do that without using fancy stark stuff, it’s so genius! i wish i-”

“alright children!” tony clapped his hands together and rubbed them vigorously. “movie time! sam, it’s your turn to pick out a movie.”

the room erupted in protest.

“but that’s not even-”

“we’ve never taken turns before-”

“bullshit! you made this up-”

“what is sam blackmailing you with to get you to side with him?”

tony threw his hands in the air. “enough! my tower, my rules. and today, i say that sam gets to pick the movie.” tony sent sam a not-so-subtle wink that sam couldn’t help but snickering at. he grabbed the remote and flourished his hand towards the television for the dramatic announcing of his movie pick.

“ladies, gentlemen, and gods!” thor nodded, pleased. “may i present to you… tall girl 2!”

the reaction was immediate and violent. nobody was happy. well, nobody except sam and bucky.

half an hour into the movie, you found yourself intertwined with sam right next to peter, who had been trying his best to fix his eyes on the screen and being pitifully unsuccessful every time. you weren’t oblivious to the negativity radiating off of your seat neighbor, but he’d seemed to be upset with you for the entire day and you weren’t in a confrontational mood. you’d actually found yourself a little entertained by the movie, so when sam had called you over, you’d planned on falling asleep on his shoulder. now, you were holding your breath as you watched jodi humiliate herself in front of the entire cast.

“pssst,” sam whispered in your ear. you instinctively brought your shoulder up to protect your ear from his tickling breath.

“what?” you hissed.

“i need to tell you a secret.”

“what are you, 12? why didn’t you tell me earlier? we’re in the middle of movie night.”

“i forgot,” he whined, wrapping his arms around you and pulling your flush to his chest. his face slipped into that dangerous combination of the puppy eyes and pout, and as he inched closer and closer to you, you felt yourself cave.

“fine, asshole. what is it?” you grumbled, taking both of sam’s cheeks between your hands and shaking his head back and forth in annoyance. sam swatted your hands away and motioned for you to come closer. you pressed your forehead against his.

to anybody else, the gesture would’ve seemed intimate. to peter, it wasn’t just intimate. it was like a knife to the chest. and having it happen just a few feet from him? that was a twist of the knife. hearing your soft whispers and watching as you caressed sam’s face was like pulling out the knife and letting peter bleed out.

to you and sam, this was a compromising position. not because it held any romantic or sexual significance, but because sam was fully aware that you would not hesitate to head bump him like you’d done last time he’d pulled you in close and tried to tell you a “secret” that ended up being him screaming into your ear. sam was like your irritating cousin that only visited on thanksgivings, but was also the only cousin your age and thus, the two of you were forced to get along. you had a familial bond, and the thought of being romantically involved would make the two of you gag. it felt incestual.

sam slipped a finger beneath your chin. at this point, peter wasn’t even bothering to hide his stare. his eyes were boring into the back of your head, and he prayed that the darkness of the room would hide his obvious jealousy. it did not. his face was very much illuminated by the brightness of tall girl on the television screen.

“what the fuck are you doing?” you whispered under your breath, careful not to breathe too forcefully and tickle sam’s face. he had thrown a mini-fit the last time you’d made that mistake.

“my secret’s about peter,” he hiccuped through his whisper, fighting the urge to break out into a full blown laughing fit.

“peter?” your voice grew higher and sam felt the tremor that ran through your body. he smirked.

“yeah. he’s right there though, so maybe we should talk about this in another room?”

you nodded. peter couldn’t make out anything you were saying, only that you’d agreed to something, and he prayed that it wasn’t about a hookup. fuck the bleeding out and slow death. sam was fully aware of peter’s crush on you—he was the one who encouraged peter to make a move—and here he was, seducing you right in front of peter’s face. he couldn’t tell if he wanted to kill sam or himself more. maybe sam first, and then himself.

“let’s get out of here,” sam said, louder in volume so that the people around the two of you could hear. a small chorus of ooohs and teasing points followed as sam took your hand in his and began dragging you away. you trailed behind him, shooting peter a nervous glance as your mind raced with all the possibilities of what sam wanted to tell you. was he going to warn you that peter hated you? that you shouldn’t sit next to him anymore? that he’d been acting so on and off with you because he couldn’t keep up the facade of tolerating you?

peter bit his tongue so forcefully he thought he might’ve drawn blood. he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to soothe his pounding heart, before jumping to his feet as well.

“sam, what the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he growled, the insecurity of being overheard or watched by other avengers leaving his brain altogether as he met the eyes of the man who’d betrayed him.

“what do you mean, what am i doing? i’m just getting some fresh air,” sam shrugged nonchalongly. “hey man, are you okay? you seem a little worked up.”

peter looked at you apologetically for just a split second before he shoved sam in the chest and sent you stumbling backwards. you stood motionlessly in your spot as you took in the scene before you.

“keep your hands off of her,” peter seethed, poking sam in the chest with such aggression that sam was forced to take a step back. “you- i can’t believe you.”

sam held his hands up placatingly, shaking his head as if what peter was saying was unbelievable. “you never made a move. you don’t own her, peter. you keep saying there’s nothing going on between you two, so i figured it was fine to shoot my shot. unless there is something i’m missing?”

“no, we’re just fr- fuck, no! i-”

you scoffed, tugging on the back of peter’s shirt to move him out of the way. “sam, what did you do? i know you’re behind some sort of meddling, you little shit.”

“nothing, nothing! i was just going to tell you something and then spiderboy got all jealous and bothered.” sam rolled his eyes. “whatever. you guys deal with it. i want juice.”

the common area was silent with the exception of peter’s heavy breathing and a tall girl 2 musical number. you tapped peter’s elbow weakly.

“pete? why don’t we… go somewhere else,” you grimaced as you watched him struggle to compose himself and meet your eye.

“yeah. okay,” he sighed, dropping his head.

you considered taking his hand, but he seemed volatile and you didn’t want to risk agitating him more. instead, you walked in silence to your room as peter followed like a kicked puppy, eyes never leaving the ground.

you held the door open for him and in the darkness, you swore you saw him blush. the only light in your room was the moonlight streaming through your window, and the atmosphere seemed too intimate to break by flipping the overhead light on, so you tapped a small lamp in the corner of the room.

you motioned for him to sit on the bed. he hesitated before sinking into the mattress, dropping his head into his hands while he rested his elbows on his thighs. you sat next to him cautiously, not sure if you should say the first word.

you couldn’t tell much time had passed, but after what seemed like years of silence, he inhaled shakily and blurted, “i’m sorry.”

“i- you don’t have to apologize to me. probably sam, though.” you sighed, kicking your legs back and forth nervously.

“no, i’m- i’m sorry that i interrupted you guys. what you do in your private life is none of my business, and i shouldn’t- i had no right to get upset at you.” he paused, spitting out his next words as if they physically pained him. “or… or sam.”

“it’s okay, you weren’t interrupting much. sam wanted to tell me a ‘secret,’ apparently, and he was just being theatrical. i’m sorry if we disturbed you.”

“i-” peter scoffed and he wasn’t sure if it was because of how ridiculous he’d been acting or how painfully oblivious you were. “he wasn’t going to tell you a secret, he wanted to hook up with you. and i just- i saw the two of you leave and i was so angry.” he turned his torso to face you, and for the first time since his fight with sam, he looked you in the eye. “i don’t know if you know this, but you’re… you’re magical. in every way. and- and i always thought that about you, and i just think that- that you deserve the world.” he ran a hand down his face. “you deserve someone who really cares about you and i didn’t want—and i know it’s none of my business and it’s not my place—but i didn’t want you to be with someone that couldn’t see that about you. i know sam’s a good guy, but he never… he hasn’t been in a relationship in months and he’s not looking for one and i just didn’t want to see you hurt. i didn’t want you to be another girl he sleeps with and then forgets about. because you’re not like everyone else, you know? how could anyone forget about you?”

you stared at him, your jaw dropped. peter closed his eyes as soon as he saw your expression, his face crumpling with devastation. he shook his head as if to clear his thoughts and his mouth parted just slightly, like he was going to say something more, but then he pushed himself off the bed and moved towards the door.

you were outraged. “are you serious right now?” you snapped. “no. no, you don’t get to say all that and leave. sit down. you’re not leaving until we talk this out.” you stood in front of the door, quirking your head as if daring him to object. he didn’t.

when the two of you settled back into your previous positions, you sucked your bottom lip.

“sam and i, huh?”

peter nodded solemnly.

“sam and i…” you snorted. “never. that’s never going to happen. he’s like, a sticky toddler brother. or the extended family you visit that you’re forced to babysit. god, no. we’d never see each other that way.”

peter was unnervingly still, but you could see his hands clench into fists as you spoke. you slowly moved your hand to hover over his fists, giving him the opportunity to pull away if he wanted to, but he didn’t. you rested your hands over his, prompting his fingers to uncurl and settle down.

“sam wasn’t trying to… he wasn’t going to hook up with me. he was going to tell me a secret about… about you, actually,” you muttered. this time, it was your turn to look away bashfully.

“about me?” peter marveled. he was pretty sure he knew what the secret was. fuck sam. if sam was going to reveal peter’s huge crush on you, he could’ve spared peter all the suffering and jealousy and just tell you outright.

“yeah. he never did though, because…” you trailed off, waving your hands around explainitorily.

“yeah, sorry about that,” peter said, scratching the back of his neck. he opened his mouth to say something at the same time you did. the two of you laughed it off awkwardly, and he swore his heart palpatated a bit when you insisted he speak first. everyone knew speaking first was the lesser choice.

“right. in case i haven’t made it really obvious and awkward and haven’t completely humiliated myself,” he sucked in a harsh breath and fixated his stare on his shaking foot to avoid your gaze, “i like you. a lot. i thought you were so pretty when i first met you, and i never meant to fall for you, but god, whenever i see you talk to the team and every time you save my ass on missions and every time you try and talk to me even when i’m being a cold asshole, i just fall more and more in love with you. and i’ve been so unfair to you—this whole thing is so unfair to you—because i’m just springing my feelings on you after having been so distant and it’s just that… you make me so nervous,” he laughed mirthlessly. “and you’ve got such a- a magnetic presence that nobody can resist and today i watched everybody finally come to the realization of what i’ve known this whole time, that you’re absolutely amazing, and i was so jealous because everybody else could express that to you and i couldn’t. and i know that’s stupid because it’s completely my fault for not being able to talk to you properfly, and-”

“stop. stop, peter- shut up,” you interrupted, grabbing peter’s face and turning it to meet yours. he shivered as your eyes flickered between his; he felt like you had looked right past his hazy nervousness and right into his heart.

peter grimaced, stomach churning, mind blank, and mouth dry. he couldn’t predict, for the life of him, what you were going to say. never had he pictured himself in this situation, so he’d never been able to overthink it and come up with every possible ending. so he just sat there.

you didn’t quite know what to say either. this was not a situation most people found themselves in. there was no precedent.

“i’m flattered,” you started, and peter winced hard. it was a classic frienzone move. “i’m flattered that you think that way about me because i think that way about you and i can’t believe-” you exhaled, shaking your head in disbelief. “this is so crazy. i- peter, you fucking idiot! why didn’t you just-” you tugged at your hair. “god, i’ve been so in awe of you this entire time and i didn’t say shit and you didn’t say shit and now this is where we’re at.” you groaned and threw yourself backwards onto your bed, staring at the ceiling. “i’m so mad at myself,” you mumbled.

peter was baffled. “i’m not following?”

“sorry, that didn’t really make sense, did it?” you propped yourself up on your elbows. “i liked you too, peter. well, not liked. i’ve liked you this whole time and i still do, and i was just too scared to do anything because you’re so smart and witty and everyone loves you and, well, you don’t know me nearly as much as everyone else so i thought you just didn’t like me because you’d never treat me the same way and i know i’m new and that changes the team dynamic so i just thought it was pointless to, you know, pursue anything,” you gulped at peter’s silence. he had clenched his jaw and was staring at the wall wordlessly and unmoving.

“was i wrong? should i have said something? you still feel that way about me, right? please, peter. say something, please… peter?” you whispered, voice trembling. maybe you shouldn’t have called him an idiot. or swore at him. damn, you really weren’t good at being romantic, were you?

he turned around, cheeks flushed and eyes glossy, and whispered so softly you almost thought you’d been imagining it. “can i kiss you?”

you blinked. “can you- yes, you fool! com’ere, asshole.” you scrambled to your knees as peter clambered onto the bed and you grabbed the fabric of his shirt and he took your jaw in his hands and he kissed you, oh that boy kissed you stupid.

it was all wandering hands and tight embraces and silent screams of “don’t leave me,” and “i’m here,” and “finally,” and you were breathless and mesmerized when he finally pulled away.

“peter…” you whimpered, and he moved so his back was to the headboard, extended his arms, and spread his legs so you could find a home between his body. when you buried your face into his shoulder and hooked your arms around his, you fought back tears as you cursed yourself for all the insecurity that’d held you back from being here, in his arms, for months. but you were in his arms now, and it felt like you were always meant to be there. your body molded into him, and this time, it was you who was boneless and melting into the arms of another.

peter rubbed your back, likely going through the same thought process, when you spoke up again. “you said you loved me.”

peter sighed, kissing the top of your head. “yeah, i did. is that okay?”

“it’s okay. i want to- are you going to stick around after this? because i want to be able to love you too, and i don’t know if your feelings have changed because so much has changed just now,” you rambled, “but if you’d let me, i really want to love you. i want to love you.”

he twisted his torso so he could meet your eye. “you think i’m going to leave after this? after i’ve been pining after you for months? never. you could never get rid of me. i’m here for as long as you’ll let me be. and if you could love me one day, then damn, i’d be the happiest man in the world.”

he ran his thumb under your eye to catch the tear threatening to spill over. you smiled wobbly at him and with a quick raise of your chin, you pressed your lips to his once more.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

i'm considering doing a couple mini-fics/drabbles of their relationship after this one-shot! thoughts?

mini fic: group hug drabble: you are in love

peter parker masterlist | main masterlist

taglist: (comment to be added!)

@im-a-slut-for-fluff @bambamwolf87

#peter parker x you #peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #peter parker x stark!reader #peter parker x avenger!reader #peter parker fic #peter parker fluff #peter parker friends to lovers #peter parker x y/n #peter parker enemies to lovers #peter parker mutual pining

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nazuna-tunnel-vision · 3 years

Text

Who in Enstars would you be lucky to have in an apocalypse? Discuss.

My reasoning under cut

Tier 1: JACKPOT

Kuro: He can cook, he can sew, he can beat people up, he can restrain them, he can keep calm and calm others. literally what else do you want from a man

Wataru: He can do magic, his hair is sentient, I’m sure he can’t die and he can probably ensure you won’t too

Tier 2: not as good as Kuro but still jackpot!!

Hajime: It might be a bit of a problem making sure he doesn’t faint at the sight of gore, but! He can cook well (Tsukasa compared it to his professional chef!) and he is very strong (beat a lot of people at arm wrestling, this might include Adonis but I can’t rmb). Maybe you wouldn’t send him out to clear zombies, but he would be indispensable at the home base.

Mitsuru: he can dash dash real fast and climb on walls so he can probably keep himself safe. He's one of the best people to send out of home base. He’s normally pretty noisy & cheerful, which can boost morale! He can be quiet and serious when needed, and is able to keep calm and think rationally when everyone around him is freaking out. He’s also very creative, although you might need to tweak his ideas to make them more feasible.

(I can’t tell if I’m just biased towards Ra*bits, what with 2 of them being in tier 2, but I tell you they’re talented and good kids.)

Hiiro: He can hunt and fight and probably debone and cook his catch too.

Twins: Have experience on the streets, they’re very resourceful. Could probably cook? Also very athletic as well!

Adonis: He is strong and calming and additional bonus of reminding you to eat well

Shu: He can cook and he can sew (born out of perfectionistic tendencies so you can be sure he is GOOD). he can also jump out of the 2nd story window no problem so he’s pretty athletic too. Unless that was just a nazuna-inspired miracle. If it’s in !! era he’s probably pretty bearable and would even make sure you’re safe and doing okay.

Tier 3: p good, but their personalities...

Rinne: Same as Hiiro, and he’s great at cooking up schemes. Except he doesn’t share them with you, so it’s stressful having to stick to him and not know what he’ll do next.

Madara: Can fight people and can be merciless so you don’t have to worry about him being scared to pull a trigger. If you’re not someone he considers his inner circle though, that might backfire on you. Once he gets serious about protecting you, he will also continuously remind you that he will abandon you anytime. Fucking mess and stressful to be with. I’m not sure if he can cook. Edit: he can, he's had years of experience manning festival stalls, which probably don't have nutritious food but he probably has the skills!

Yuzuru: Child soldier; so he definitely can fight. He might be able to cook. I don’t read enough fine to know his personality, but I feel he would abandon you if it meant saving Tori

Tori: Package deal with Yuzuru

Ibara: Child soldier too.

Tier 4: not as skilled but still really good!!

Kohaku: I’m sure he can put some of his assassin skills to good use (Edit: Kid's terrified of zombies. He's willing to deal with humans but not the undead or supernatural. Tier 6.)

Mao: King of doing adequately well, and that’s when keeping up with geniuses. Also would not complain at doing lots of work, would even be happy if you gave him more things to do.

Shinobu: nin nin! I’m sure he can put his ninja skills to good use

Souma: sword

Tetora: idk enough about him but he can fight and has lots of energy!! Can’t cook though.

Koga: can also fight. idk anything else about him.

Anzu: can sew, will look after your emotional health, always eager to pick up new skills so she probably knows a lot of strangely useful ones

Sora: didn’t he jump out of the building once

Nazuna: can cook, will look after all the juniors and boost morale. not afraid of killing even humans if he perceives them to be a threat to his juniors, so don’t worry about him being afraid to pull a trigger. Unfortunately, if he sees a junior get hurt in front of his eyes he’ll lose all reason. Might freeze up. Might go beserk. who knows.

Jun: idk much about him but I know he has abs so that will probably be useful

Tier 5: extra pair of hands, can be good company

this tier consists of people with no apocalypse-specific skills, but who aren’t absolute pains to deal with. notable mentions: arashi being p strong, mika being able to sew. you might find leo too noisy and this drops him to Tier 8 with the rest of Knights

Tier 6: oscillates between “still very good” and “absolutely useless”

They could do night watch, but also might be very useless during the day when the rest of the group is trying to move. You might need someone to carry them around. Physically fit. (Rei carried a grand piano no problem once and Ritsu definitely doesn’t exercise but can do backflips no prob when he feels like it.)

also Ritsu has produced guns out of nowhere thrice as of 2022 Jan.

Tier 7: oscillates between “extra pair of hands” and “absolutely useless”

Chiaki: has a tendency to overwork himself and not tell others, resulting in him falling sick and becoming absolutely useless. also tends to not rest when he clearly needs to. but he can be a great morale booster!

Eichi: he might drop dead while running. idk if his health has gotten better since the start of ! MS1

Tier 8: extra pair of hands that can be annoying to live with

they’re not afraid to act selfishly and to yell very loudly until you give in. They don’t mean to get on your nerves, but that’s what happens anyway and it can be very hard to deal in an apocalypse where everyone is perpetually stressed.

Tier 9: idk enough about them

they might be useful, they might be okay, they might be annoying, i have no clue. (Edit 2: Mayoi can cook anything he's seen once and does woodwork so he probably would go to tier 4 "not as skilled but still rly good"!) (Edit 3: Hokuto is dumb as rocks. Tier 7.)

Tier 10: good luck not getting eaten first

Niki can barely stay alive without an apocalypse. Yes he can cook really well, but you might become the food (I joke. He probably belongs in Tier 6. His cooking skills can really lift your mood, but first you need to find enough ingredients to keep him alive.)

#enstars #ensemble stars #rambles

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poisoned-peppermint · 3 years

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Part 4 of incorrect quotes because i feel obligated to make more due to the sheer number of people who liked it

Dream: My dearest beloved fuckos, is a fun, gender-neutral way to begin a speech

George: See also, esteemed bastards

Bad: Gentlefolk, Ferals, and Domesticated cryptids.

Sapnap: My fellow yees and haws

~~~~~~~

Techno:Hey I know skyrim is revered as a classic but are we just going to ignore the fact that the entire game only had like 3 voice actors

Wilbur:Stop right there criminal cum

Techno:My ancestors are smiling at me, bastard, can you say the same

~~~~~~~

Foolish:When's your bedtime :)

Purpled: Whenever I next collapse in purely up to the gods

~~~~~~

Ranboo:Human skin is a fursuit for skeletons

Tubbo: i’m going to debone you like a fucking trout

~~~~~~

Bad:You’re enough

Bad: love yourself!!!!!!! or suffer my wrath!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Dream:And by wrath I mean love!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Bad:no I mean wrath!!!!! You reading this, if you don't love yourself I’ll beat you with a stick!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

~~~~~~~

Bad:I hope everyone is today well! And tomorrow!!!! After that you’re on your own.

~~~~~~

Bad:what am I supposed to do all day while you’re at work

Skeppy:I don’t know, what do you normally do while I’m gone

Bad: wait for you to get back

~~~~~~

Velvet:For my next stunt, I’ll wake up at 5am on the day I can sleep in

Ant:Early to bed and early to rise makes a man healthy, wealthy and wise.

Velvet:Early to bed and early to rise makes me a massive bitch

~~~~~~

Tubbo: 3:23 AM make a wish

Ranboo: I wish that you would go to sleep

Tuddo: Yeah well I wish I grew an inch taller every day as you get an inch shorter until you’re as flat as as a piece of paper and I’m 11 feet tall

Ranboo: You’re going to die of a mixture of skeletal instability and heart disease.

Tubbo: Yeah but I’ll look good while doing it.

~~~~~~

Bad:Disrespect me again and I’ll determine your bodies resonant frequency and play a jaunty horn solo that boils your miserable organs inside out

~~~~~~

Quackity: If I were dating you? Well, heh. Let’s just say horses wouldn't be called horses anymore

Karl: hey what the honk does this mean…..I’m shaking what does this mean!

~~~~~~

Skeppy: Are you ok?

Bad wrapped in a burrito blanket drinking his 6th cup of coffee: Yes, this is exactly what mental stability looks like

~~~~~~

Sam: My hands are cold

Ponk: *holds their hands*

Ponk: better?

Sam: My lips are cold too

~~~~~~

George at dream’s funeral: can I have a moment alone with them?

Sapnap: of course *leaves*

George leaning over dream’s casket: Now listen, I know you’re not dead.

Dream: yeah no shit

~~~~~~

Skeppy, jokingly: I should have Bad kill you for that.

Bad, peering around the corner: Who do I need to kill?

Skeppy: Wh- no, I was just kidding around.

Bad, pulling out a switchblade: No, who’s bothering you

~~~~~~

Bad *watching the news*: Some idiot tried to fight a squid at the aquarium.

Skeppy *covered in ink*: Maybe the squirt was being a dick.

~~~~~~

Peacock: *spreads feathers at Bad*

Skeppy: It’s trying to attract a mate

Bad, extremely confused: *shyly lifts top*

Skeppy: No!

~~~~~~

Sapnap: Karl, do you eat olives? My dad wants to know

Karl: No, I hate olives. Olives are the spawn of satan. I hate olives so much my mom forced me to live in Mount olive for the rest of my childhood as a curse from the olive gods. Do you understand how much olives have ruined my life? I'm so offended that you asked me that have some consideration for people who have been abused by olives please!

Sapnap: K A R L ……….they’re just olives!!?

Karl: JUST OLIVES EXCUSE!

~~~~~~

Tommy: If you’re bored you can simply close your eyes and rotate a cow in your mind. It’s free and the cops can’t stop you

~~~~~~

Wilbur: is there anyone even named sheldon irl?

Tubbo: my class turtle from 6th grade :)

Wilbur: that’s a turtle

Tubbo: When god sings with his creations, will a turtle not be part of the choir?

~~~~~~

Ranboo: No bcuz why do ppl like salad?? What’s so good about it

Tubbo: chew leaf like god intended

Ranboo: No

Tubbo: Abandon god and see what he does next time you lift your hands in prayer

~~~~~~~

Tommy: Guys, there’s a monster under my bed and it’s really ugly.

Wilbur, on the bottom bunk: Honestly, fuck you.

~~~~~~

Quackity: So according to the cease and desist order I got, apparently you can’t ‘legally’ be a lawyer if your license is ‘cut out of a cereal box’.

~~~~~~

Puffy: If you had too, what would you give up food or sex?

Bad: Sex.

Skeppy: Seriously, answer faster.

Bad: I’m sorry honey, when they said sex I wasn’t thinking about sex with you.

Skeppy: It’s like a giant hug.

Puffy: Ant, what about you? What would you give up sex or food?

Ant: Food.

Puffy: Okay, how about sex or dinosaurs?

Ant: ……...Oh my God it’s like the movie Sophie’s Choice.

Gumi: What about you Velvet? What would you give up sex or food?

Velvet: Oh… um… I don’t know, it’s too hard.

Gumi: No, you gotta pick one.

Velvet: Um, food… no, sex… no, food…sex… food. Ugh! I don’t know! I want both! I- I want Antfrost on bread!

~~~~~~~

Tommy, holding a gun: If the conspiracies about life being a simulation are true WHOEVERS CONTROLLING MY SIM I JUST WANNA TALK.

~~~~~~~

Bad: Why are you guys acting like this?

Boomer: Oh, we’re not acting. We really are like this.

~~~~~~

Techno: Dream has only knocked me out three times this week. Our friendship is really developing.

~~~~~~

Tommy: You’re pathetic!

Wilbur: You’re pathetic-er!

Techno: You’re both losers.

~~~~~~

Bad: I wish I could help you, but I shorn’t.

Skeppy: Bad, please!

Bad: What part of shorn’t don’t you understand?

~~~~~~

Tubbo: Why did you leave Wrestlemania on for Michal?

Ranboo: They need to learn how to protect us.

~~~~~~

Antfrost: I regret getting dragged into your heterosexual tomfoolery.

~~~~~~

Bad: Strawberry milk doesn’t taste like strawberry OR milk.

Skeppy: Go the fuck to sleep Bad!

Bad: LANGUAGE!!

~~~~~~

Ranboo: Tubbo, please calm down.

Tubbo: I asked for two large fries!

Tubbo: *dumps fries onto table*

Tubbo: But all they did was give me a MILLION FUCKING LITTLE ONES!

~~~~~~

Bad: That was the worst throw ever. Of all time.

Skeppy: Not my fault. Somebody put a wall in the way.

~~~~~~

Wilbur: When you’ve been on the internet for as long as I have, you develop thick skin.

Tommy: Navy blue isn’t your color.

Wilbur: Navy blue brings out my eyes you prick! *Chases after Tommy*

~~~~~~

Bad: *Pulls a glass a water from out of nowhere*

Puffy: Where did you get that?.

Bad: My pocket.

Puffy: How do you keep a glass of water in your pocket?

Bad: Skills.

~~~~~~

Tubbo: I will come to your house after work and knock on your window at 11 AM. You will not open the curtains, knowing full well what awaits you, but the knocking only grows louder, more demanding. Finally it stops, your ears ringing. You nervously let out a breath you didn't know you were holding. You're safe now. Minutes pass by and you start to relax. And then you hear a knock at the front door. Like before, you stay still and clutch the blankets around you. You try to tell your self that it's just your imagination. Maybe the milk man? But why would he come so late? Everyone else was asleep, save for Naomi who was playing video games down stairs. To your relief, the knocking stops after a few. Minutes and you breath easy once more. Until you hear a knock on your bedroom door. You don't move. It's just your imagination. She isn't here. She can't be here. You tell yourself, shutting your eyes and willing yourself to sleep. The knock comes again, but with horror you realize that it came from the closet inside your room. You know that you have no choice. You get up, climbing out of bed with shaking limbs. You walk to the closest, trembling, and holding back the tears threatening to spill over your porcelain cheeks. You hesitate with your hand over the closet handle. Maybe it's just your imagination? She's not really there. You can go to sleep and laugh it off in the morning. Your naive thoughts are cut off by another, more demanding knock on the closet door, inches from your face. You know what you have to do. You open the closet door, and there she stands. Chuck e cheese, the mouse looms over you in the dim light. It's soulless eyes boor into you. It raises its arms, and you flinch as it begins to floss at lightning speed. Tears spill over your cheeks. This is the last thing you'll ever see.

Ranboo: Wait, Chuck e cheese’s pronouns are she/her? Trans Chuck e cheese? Good for her.

~~~~~~~~

Bad: Would you like something to drink? *They opened the fridge* We have water, milk, juice, spiders, Dr. Pepper-

Quackity: Spiders?

Bad: Spiders it is then.

Quackity: No, that wasn’t-

*But they were already pouring him a brimming glass of spiders…

~~~~~~

Puffy : Make her pussy wet not her eyes.

Velvet : Make his dick hard not his life.

Punz : Break her bed not her heart.

Skeppy : Play with his boobs not his feelings.

Ant : Get on his dick not his nerves.

Bad : Always salt your pasta while boiling it.

~~~~~~~

Wilbur: Bet you can’t eat 15 crayons!

Tommy: Bet you I can!

Phil: *sips coffee, checks to make sure 911 is still on speed dial, and goes back to reading the paper*

~~~~~~~

Ant: We need a way to lure in new customers?

Ponk: Maybe we could have some fun, interactive events!

Skeppy: Badboyhalo bath water.

Bad: ABSOLUTELY NOT!

~~~~~~~~

Fundy: GET BACK HERE YOU DUMB FUCK!

Wilbur: LET ME RUN FROM THE CONSEQUENCES OF MY ACTIONS!

~~~~~~~~

Bad: Mint is just cold spicy.

Pummel party Squad: …

Gumi: What the actual fuck is wrong with you.

~~~~~~~~

Quackity: Isn’t it amazing how I can feel so bad and still look so good?

~~~~~~~

Tommy: Why does my arm shake and turn bright red when I’m eating dirt?

Phil:

Phil: Why are you eating dirt?

Tommy: Did I ask you if I should eat dirt? No, so answer my question.

~~~~~~~

Tubbo: I wish I could control wasps and bees to sting my enemies.

Quackity: You’re too young to have enemies.

Tubbo: You don’t even know.

~~~~~~~~

Skeppy: Is there a cactus where your heart should be?

Puffy: What’s up your ass this morning!

Bad: *walks in* …Hi!!

Puffy: Hmm… nevermind.

Skeppy: WAIT NO!

~~~~~~~~

Skeppy: Ha! Don’t you know the trappers trap can trap the trapper?

Skeppy: I must be losing it, I’m quoting Bad.

~~~~~~~

Skeppy: Bad, I sense hostility.

Bad: Good, because I hate you

~~~~~~~

Bad: Are you a painting?

Skeppy: What-?

Bad: Because I want to pin you to a wall.

Skeppy: OH GOD I THOUGHT YOU WERE GOING TO SAY YOU WANTED TO HANG ME OR SOMETHING-

~~~~~~

Tommy: You’re giving me a sticker?

Phil: Not just a sticker. That is a sticker of a kitty saying “me-wow!”

Tommy: I’m not a preschooler.

Phil: Fine, I’ll take it back-

Tommy: I earned this, back off!

~~~~~~

Dream, sweating: George, there’s something I need to ask you-

George: Finally! You’re proposing!

Dream: How’d you know?

George: Dream, you’ve dropped the ring five times during dinner.

George: I even picked it up once

~~~~~~~~

*Bad and Skeppy looking at a locked gate into a park*

Bad: Aw. :(

Skeppy: You know what they say.

Bad: Please don’t-

Skeppy: BE GAY DO CRIME! *hops gate*

Bad: Frick-

~~~~~~~~

let me know if ya’ll want more <3

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killemwithkawaii · 3 years

Photo

Goretober 2021 Day 25: Bites

I asked K.E.W.K. this morning if they would join me for a romantic dinner, and they enthusiastically agreed. Now that the knock-off has been put away, Mitchie and I could finally have some quality time to ourselves, and I was determined to restart us off on the right foot. I got to work in the kitchen right away, keeping Mitch chained up in the bedroom so that the surprise wouldn't be spoiled. I'm sure they could hear me hammering and chopping away, and were looking forward to the meal I was working so hard on, just for them. I brought a full, covered tray into the bedroom a little after nightfall. They were curled up on the bed, waiting patiently. K.E.W.K.: Why can't I hear Sal anymore? He was screaming all morning, but I haven't heard anything from him for hours.... Where did you take him? Please, please let me see him!! D.S.: Oh, your Chatty Cathy was helping me with dinner and it tuckered itself out, that's all. It's still in the living room. K.E.W.K.: Is he alive? If you killed him, I swear to fucking god, I'll- D.S.: Tsk, tsk, Mitchie. Still so sentimental over that thing... but yes, it's still very much alive. I promise! :) 💙 K.E.W.K.: .... Okay.... [sighs] ...What are we having for dinner, then? D.S.: [chuckling] Oh, do I have I got a treat for you, Mitchie~ I made you a three-course meal, each one better than the first! The knock-off could never do ANYTHING this fancy for you- the extra few thousand years of practice under my belt can guarantee it! Aren't you excited? :) 💙 K.E.W.K.: ....

Suuure....

D.S.: Alright! Let's dig in, then...~

I revealed the mouth-watering dishes to them in order, impeccably plated and begging for them to sink their teeth into: Deep-fried, deboned and denailed pinkie toes with a dijon mustard dipping sauce for the appetizer. Slow-simmered tongue with a mushroom and onion cream sauce for the main dish. And last but not least, a candied eyeball with a strawberry reduction for dessert. (The blue iris really complimented the red-pink color of the sauce.) They were speechless, then suddenly started insisting that they were still full from the pancakes the other day and asked to play with their toy again. I knew they were just intimidated. A home-cooked, fine-dining experience served in bed isn't something they get every day, after all! I expected them to be a little nervous to try something so new. D.S.: Oh Mitchie, it's not really that fancy! It's just some stuff we had lying around that I whipped together, no big deal. Give it a try, I'm sure you'll love it! ...Please...? K.E.W.K.: No!! There's no fucking way I'm eating that! How could you... oh god, I'm gonna be sick...! D.S.: Ouch... but, I was working on this all day! You're gonna hurt my feelings if you don't at least taste them... :( I'll tell you what, if you give them all an honest try and still don't end up liking it, I'd be more than happy to make you something else! K.E.W.K.: No! Listen to me: I want to see Sal. MY Sal. Please, I'm fucking begging you, just let me see that he’s still alive...!! D.S.: [laughing] Oh, you want to pick out our next meal yourself? I think I know exactly what you're going to choose... but, I wanna save those real prime cuts for closer to the 31st, so you’ll just have to be patient~ For now, I can always saw off a shank and get a stew started for us. How does that sound? It’s no problem, you know I can never say no to you... 💙💙💙 In true K.E.W.K. fashion, they didn't want to cause me any more trouble when I'd already gone through so much already, so they ended up wolfing down every last bite of the dinner I made them! They kept denying it, but I could tell that they absolutely loved it- No matter how long I hugged them, I couldn't get them to stop crying and saying my name after they'd finished off their dessert. [Whispering] See? I told you guys I was an amazing cook...~ ;) 💙

#the Do-Over #K.E.W.K draws #goretober #goretober2021 #tw cannibalism #tw unsanitary #tw delusion #tw unreality #tw torture #tw organs #tw weapon #tw death #tw injury #guro #gurocore #meet the fishers

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misssophiachase · 4 years

Text

You Make My Heart Smile

So, happy (belated) birthday, Tina @tnapki Your edits make me smile (pardon the pun) and I wanted to thank you for that and everything you bring to the fandom.

I based it on your GORGEOUS EDIT

I also made it about food cause it’s SO you. On AO3 HERE

Also thanks to the gorgeous Kait @an-awesome-wavve for being amazing and my part brainstorm, part beta, part researcher and part undercover partner in crime.

Renowned Chef Klaus Mikaelson has a bad reputation until he meets food blogger Caroline Forbes and has no idea how to handle her or the unfamiliar feelings she evokes, especially that annoying ability to make him smile.

3 May - Alinea - 1723 N. Halsted St, Chicago IL - 3pm

“I’m not going to do some stupid interview, you know I have other, more important things to do, right?”

Klaus Mikaelson didn’t do interviews. He didn’t need to because his accomplishments spoke for themselves. He hadn’t slogged away in kitchens since he was twelve and worked his way through culinary school and some of the best restaurants to waste his time.

Being a world-renowned chef owning not one, but four, three-Michelin-starred restaurants across the globe meant he could do whatever the hell he wanted.

But yet here she was running his life.

Still.

“Like yell at me? I mean, you’ve been doing that since we were little so I guess it’s nothing I haven’t experienced before. ”

“I knew I should have never mixed business and family,” he snapped. “You always throw our childhood back in my face as an excuse to insult my life choices.”

“Because it’s too easy not to,” she pouted, flicking a stray, blonde lock over her shoulder. “And, while I am unfortunately related to your sorry ass, I am also your publicist and this interview is good for your career.”

“I don’t need publicity.”

“Correction, you do need publicity,” she argued, her fork now attacking the very veal he’d cooked with more fervour than needed.

“Easy on the product, little sister,” Klaus growled, his protectiveness for his art on full display.

“Oh, silly me I thought it was already dead,” she shot back, tartly. “And before you interrupted, I was going to say that, yes maybe you shouldn’t need publicity given your career achievements, but that was before you dropped an entree on the food critic’s lap from the Chicago Tribune, fired your sous chef in front of the entire restaurant and insulted Gordon Ramsey on national television.”

“Ramsey is a sell out, I stand by my comments,” he muttered. “The critic had it coming and, now you mention it, so too did that sorry excuse for a sous chef.”

“You realise people call you the angry chef, right?”

“Better than the naked chef I suppose.” He shrugged his shoulders indifferently. Klaus wasn’t in the business for gimmicks or to secure his own cooking program. He took his food seriously and there was nothing wrong with that.

“At least people like Jamie Oliver,” she replied, arching her eyebrows knowingly. “Anyway, there’s no point in arguing because she’ll be here in five minutes.”

“Please tell me you didn’t just schedule an interview without my permission?”

1717 N. Halsted St, 3:10pm

“What’s with the expression of impending doom, Care Bear?” He asked, lugging his camera equipment as they walked up the block toward Alinea.

“What have I told you about calling me that?”

“Not to do it but it’s too fun not to, Care Bear.” Given his general maturity level, Caroline decided it was a losing battle and she had more important things on her mind.

“Anyway, it’s not doom,” she muttered. “It’s just the overwhelming desire not to do this interview but given I don’t want to get fired and also pay my rent, there’s no other option.”

“Is someone afraid of the angry chef?”

“Oh, puh-lease, I’m not afraid. Although, I might not be able to bite my tongue if he decides to insult me like he did Gordon Ramsey.”

Caroline wasn’t one to judge but his indiscretions were well-known and well-documented. Although, chefs with egos weren’t an entirely new phenomenon to the industry or to Caroline given interviewing them was her job.

“You and I both know Ramsey deserved that dressing down, if anything Mikaelson earned my respect that day.” Caroline couldn’t argue with that.

Although this one was another kind of beast.

The effortlessly attractive kind.

For Caroline, this was an unsettling prospect. Until she reminded herself why she was here in the first place.

Caroline loved food. Sometimes, she thought, more than life itself.

So, when she became a food blogger after graduating with a journalism degree from Northwestern, it wasn’t a surprise. She was currently the senior blogger at popular food blog Delicious.

��You love food and writing about it,” Was Enzo reading her mind? “How about instead of focusing on the negative, remember that this will be your biggest interview yet. Think about all of the exposure this will garner.”

The upper echelons of Delicious had decided that an interview with Klaus Mikaelson would be a big scoop. Caroline was all for interviewing chefs about their food and the passion behind it but she knew her editor wanted something less about his craft and more about his bad boy reputation.

“Yes, but I want to write about food, not produce tabloid fodder.”

“Just think, once you do this then maybe you’ll have enough of a following to start your own blog and write what you want and not what someone tells you to do.”

“Mmmm, you do have a point.”

“Of course I do because Enzo knows everything. Also, take me with you because you’d be lost without me, sweetcheeks.”

“Third person, huh? That ego of yours knows no bounds, Lorenzo.”

“You know it, Care Bear,” he joked, flashing his most dazzling smile. “Well, looks like we’re here.”

“Looks like it,” she murmured, noting the intimidating sign overhead and wondering what she’d gotten herself into. “Here goes nothing.”

3:15pm

“Caroline Forbes?”

“You must be Rebekah and this is my photographer Lorenzo St John.”

Klaus, who’d been throwing a temper tantrum not one minute ago, found himself looking up into the blue eyes of one Caroline Forbes. Suddenly, all of the white noise of the moment fell away and it was just the two of them in the room together and the blonde in question was looking at him expectantly.

It was paralysing.

But good paralysing he decided.

“Nik?” Rebekah questioned. Now they were both looking at him. Had he zoned out and not realised it? Well, if so, this was all kinds of embarrassing. “Caroline is the senior blogger for Delicious and she’s here for that interview, you know the one we talked about earlier?”

Yeah, ten minutes earlier, he thought to himself doing everything he could not to bite back in front of the new arrival.

“It’s nice to meet you Mr Mikaelson, I have to say I’m a big fan of your…”

“Look, it’s not going to be possible, I have to prep for dinner service,” he lied, although regretted it immediately when he noticed her expression. Klaus wasn’t used to being nice, it wasn’t in his DNA and usually it didn’t bother him.

Until now.

Klaus decided to blame it on the foreign feelings she was causing. As soon as he got some distance between them it would be fine, especially that vanilla scent he couldn’t ignore given it was infiltrating his first line of defence.

Klaus liked women, in fact he slept with many when his busy schedule permitted, but that was sex and nothing else. Just the way he liked it, easy and unemotional.

“Why don’t we multitask then? I’m happy to help. ” Her voice was light and melodic. Klaus was hoping it wasn’t going to sound so enticing. He also wasn’t expecting that response. “I worked in a restaurant kitchen for years, I can do dishes, polish cutlery and peel a mean potato and an onion, well almost without crying.”

Why was he buoyed by that ridiculous statement and increasingly trying not to flash her a goofy smile?

Klaus didn’t smile. He just didn’t. Ever.

This wasn’t how he saw his day going at all. He was going to kill Rebekah. Before he could reply, the current subject of his ire spoke.

“That sounds like a fantastic idea,” she grinned. “How about Lorenzo and I make ourselves scarce then?”

“It’s actually Enzo, darling, you sound a bit too much like my mother and my oppressive boss Care Bear here.”

Klaus hadn’t even realised there was someone else in the room up until this point but it was clear Caroline wasn’t too impressed by his nickname or the oppressive part. Maybe they had more in common than he thought?

Care Bear. Klaus thought it was adorable. Then he could feel it, that idiotic urge to smile again.

Before he could object again, Rebekah had made a quick exit with the photographer and she was just standing there. Klaus could feel the awkward tension between them and knowing he’d caused it wasn’t helping matters. But he didn’t know any other way to act.

Then the words he’d struggled with just tumbled out.

“How do you feel about fish?”

Not the most suave topic or question but this was his ‘uncomfort’ zone.

“Depends on the context.”

“The context?”

“I mean, if you think I can clean, fillet and debone a fish, you’ve obviously overestimated my cooking talents.”

Klaus had to practically eat the smile that was threatening to appear. Again.

“Everyone has to start somewhere and get their hands a bit dirty, otherwise what’s the point?” He advised. “But, if you don’t want to then…”

“Oh, I never back away from a challenge, chef,” she promised.

Again, the pesky smile was hovering just beneath the surface.

Leading her towards the kitchen, Klaus told himself that preparing a fish was definitely going to keep his emotions at bay and also block out that perfume which was throwing him off balance.

4:45pm

“Why do I feel like this was a ploy to distract me from my interview?” Caroline asked, dipping the fish into egg wash and then flour as instructed by her cooking mentor for the day..

This was not how she saw her day going. It was surreal to say the least. This guy was supposed to be an ogre but Caroline was realising he was something else entirely.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he shot back. “But you filleted that fish like a professional, maybe you’ve missed your true calling?”

“I suppose I had a semi-good teacher,” she admitted wryly.

“Wow, tell me what you really think, Forbes.”

Caroline was trying not to to get too caught up in the moment but Klaus Mikaelson had challenged every judgment she’d ever harboured about the temperamental chef. He’d been unusually kind and patient.

The one thing she’d noticed was that his overall demeanour didn’t match his expression.

He didn’t smile.

Not once.

A few times, Caroline could swear it was close or maybe she was just imagining it?

“So, why do you like food?” It was a question she wasn’t expecting. Especially seeing as she was the interviewer and him her subject.

“Isn’t that what I’m supposed to be asking you?” He was silent for a moment, almost like he was contemplating it. “But I get the impression you don’t like that question much?”

“I’d much prefer to hear your story first, call it a warm-up.” Clearly he was nervous and Caroline was happy to oblige if it helped.

“My grandmother,” she smiled knowingly, visions of her nana filling her head. “When I was younger I’d go to her house most weekends and we’d cook together. She could make anything and everything. She died last year and it’s been tough without her but at least I still have those memories.”

Caroline didn’t mean to get personal, especially with the so-called “angry chef” but for some reason she felt nothing but comfort in his presence, even if he didn’t smile.

“What was her specialty?”

“Banana cream cheesecake,” she smiled, the taste of it rushing back in all its delicious glory.

“Hard to beat,” he murmured. “Have you ever eaten a Bananas Foster? My restaurant in New Orleans does a modern version over flame. According to my maitre’d there’ve apparently been a few proposals over dessert.”

“Over your dessert?”

“Someone sounds dubious. Let’s just say it’s fireworks but without the danger. Well, unless the tablecloth is accidentally set on fire but the fire department down there are pretty good first responders I understand.”

“I just didn’t take you for the romantic dessert type.”

“I suppose there’s a lot of things you don’t know about me then.”

“So, why do you like food then?”

“Well, of course I like food, I wouldn’t be a chef otherwise,” he shared, moving swiftly in behind her and taking the fillets from her hand and placing them in the hot pan, Caroline was trying not to react to his touch or that welcoming and heady mixture of sandalwood, spices and soap . “But one interview isn’t going to even begin to answer that question.”

He had a point and Caroline knew it. How could you sum up what food meant to you in one interview?

“So, what exactly are you trying to say? I do have a deadline to meet.”

“How about we schedule a follow-up interview tomorrow morning? Dinner service is imminent and if you stay I’m going to have to ask you to do more than fillet a fish. My pastry chef Lucien is also very needy, requires constant gratification, and you don’t want to be on the receiving end of that.”

“Not gonna lie I’m intrigued and by that I’m talking about Lucien. Did you insult his choux pastry or something?”

“Not if I want my patrons to eat dessert this century. But, if you insist on staying, there’s a whole pile of onions there with your name on it and we can call it even.”

“You wouldn’t dare.” He raised his left eyebrow by way of response. Caroline was trying to ignore just how good he looked, even if there was no smile forthcoming.

“Fine,” she conceded. “Tomorrow morning but that’s it otherwise my editor might fire me.”

“Great, let’s make it 10:30, you can poach an egg, right? And I also expect extra crispy bacon.”

Caroline knew she was possibly in trouble and not because he was tasking her with cooking. Enzo would also parrot that particular concern but she couldn’t help herself.

Today was probably the best day she’d had in a long time and she didn’t want it to end. She told herself that she’d return tomorrow and get her interview, that’s all she wanted from him, right?

4 May - Alinea - 1723 N. Halsted St, Chicago IL - 11am

Klaus Mikaelson was in uncharted territory.

That’s what scared him the most.

Caroline Forbes was seated across from him at his best, window table in jeans and a cream sweater, her plate empty and a very full but satisfied look on her face. Klaus decided to add that to his favourite expressions file. It was fast filling up and he’d only known her for 20 hours.

He wasn’t this guy.

At all.

But she’d consumed his thoughts since their first meeting and all night through dinner service and beyond. He’d barely slept, but it wasn’t a bad thing. He’d been looking forward to seeing her as soon as she left.

The only problem? Not smiling because it was that difficult when she was in his presence. He had his reasons of course.

“So, why do you love food? And no arguments given I poached a mean egg and also let you have a reprieve yesterday.”

“The bacon could use some work, just saying.”

“Well, you’re more than welcome to cook itself yourself, Mikaelson. Are you always such a critic? Last time I checked that was my job. Also enough with the distractions. So?”

“My mum,” he admitted quietly, even if it took a minute or so to verbalise. For some reason her opening up about her grandmother had filled him with courage. He didn’t do feelings or talk about them for that matter. “She cooked with me practically from birth until she got too sick last year.”

Those last words wobbled, it was unfortunate as it was expected. He’d struggled for a long time and losing his mother had been difficult.

“What was her specialty?” Klaus recognised the question he’d asked himself yesterday, but the fact her hand squeezed his at the same time filled him with the confidence and warmth he needed.

“Rosemary braised lamb shanks, it was her favourite protein. I’ve tried to pay homage on all my menus since.”

‘So, that explains the Saddle of Elysian Fields Farm Lamb with Babaganoush, Romano Beans and Harissa Jus on your menu then?”

“You’ve done your homework clearly?”

“That and the fact it’s the first time I’ve seen you smile, and I have to say it’s really nice.”

Klaus didn’t even realise he’d let it slip but suddenly it didn’t matter anymore. He didn’t want to hide it, not with her.

“She used to tell me to smile all the time because I was too serious, you could say it’s something I’ve battled with ever since she passed.”

“All the more reason to smile, even just to introduce those dimples to the general public. Has anyone ever told you they should come with a warning?”

“No, but more than happy to discuss further.”

“If only, but I have to get going.” Klaus felt almost deflated that she was leaving as quickly as she’d arrived. Maybe he’d shared too much. “Deadlines and all that. But if you could just consult the email I sent confirming the details of our interview that would be great.”

Klaus felt disillusioned, he’d opened himself up to someone and she was running away. She was out the door before he could even move from his seat. Checking his emails was the last thing he felt like doing, but his hand went to work on his cell checking it anyway and dreadfully waiting for its contents.

“As of three minutes ago, I no longer working for Delicious. It wanted a story I wasn’t prepared to write. I like your smile and dimples too much and I also want a Bananas Foster.”

His chest constricted as he read each word and his grin was unmistakable. It didn’t take long for him to reply.

“You make my heart smile.”

Tabloids would report months later that famed food blogger Caroline Forbes married famed chef Klaus Mikaelson in rural England after proposing over a dessert of Bananas Foster in New Orleans.

#you make my heart smile #happy birthday #tnapki #klaroline fanfiction #misssophiachase

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patriciasage · 4 years

Text

promises, promises

Author: Patricia_Sage

Fandom: The Adventure Zone - Balance

Summary:

Taako made two promises to his sister early on in this seemingly endless mission. Firstly, he isn’t allowed to intentionally cut a cycle short, no matter how much time is left, no matter how much he misses her. Secondly, if she’s gone, he has to take care of Barry.

He isn’t sure what his sister was thinking with the second one. ‘Taako’ and ‘take care of’ are not words that naturally go together for anyone other than Lup. He loves the entire crew, of course he does, but he would rather kill for them than comfort them.

This is the first cycle where Lup is dead and neither Taako nor Barry had gone with her.

posted in full under the break but you can find me on AO3!!

There are two months left in the cycle and Lup is gone. She, Merle, and Davenport were poisoned during a political meeting.

Taako hadn’t been hungry that day. He wishes he would have taken a drink. Magnus hates when he says it, but he prefers to die by her side than live without her. And death would have been much more preferable to watching her choke and spasm in front of him. Helpless.

Lucretia has a lot on her plate now, attempting to negotiate with the bastards who killed them. There was death on both sides, since Taako literally burned the place to the ground. It seems as though they’re on the verge of war – the four remaining crewmembers versus this country’s royal armies.

Taako doesn’t give a shit.

“What’s the fucking point?” he asks Lucretia when she made plans to meet with the royal representative. “This cycle’s gone to Hell; let’s just go.”

“We have two months left,” Lucretia says. “We have a chance to work through this and get the Light. Then they didn’t die in vain.” Her voice cracks. Taako attempts to be gentle with his friend, even though rage flows through him like a roaring stream.

But quiet vitriol escapes his mouth. “Are they even worth saving?”

Lucretia looks at him with bright, brown eyes. “Taako.”

“They killed Merle and Davenport and Lup! And they should have killed me too. And we’re still going to bend over backwards in order to save them? They obviously wouldn’t do the same for us.”

“That’s not how this works,” Lucretia says, quiet and stern. “We don’t decide who is worth saving or not.” She places her dark hand on Taako’s shoulder. “I know you’re hurting, T. And I won’t make you be a part of this. But I’m going to try and get the Light of Creation. And you’re going to make it through these next few months to see her again.”

Taako could see her again right now if he wanted to. But he doesn’t say that. And he doesn’t let himself truly entertain the thought. He promised.

Everyone on the ship is grieving in their own way. Barry becomes entirely reclusive, locking himself in his lab. Magnus cries a lot over the first few days and blames himself for not being at the meeting to protect them, but then he focuses his energy into learning to pilot the Starblaster. Taako attempts to distract his mind from the grief that sits deep in his bones.

Knowing their deaths are temporary doesn’t make it hurt any less.

Magnus makes it his personal mission to take care of Taako, which is very annoying but also helps with his plan for distraction. He sits next to the Magnus as the fighter test-drives the ship. It’s hard to think about your dead sister when your friend is crashing a spaceship into a lake.

But Magnus isn’t only recklessness and aggressive enthusiasm. He’s also soft and sensitive – and fucking manipulative. He tells Taako he needs a hug or someone to keep him company when he sleeps. Taako knows these are partial lies. He knows that Magnus just wants to hold his pieces together, to shield Taako from the nightmares that tear him apart.

Taako travels through the days like molasses. He wants to exist in the bare minimum, avoid the smouldering flame threatening to burn him up. But it’s hard to exist, unfeeling, in a world where he’s always had her at his side. He can’t do anything without thinking of her.

He drinks too much.

It helps a little, but it causes Magnus to make that sad, helpless expression, so Taako hides it as best he can.

He made two promises to his sister early on in this seemingly endless mission. Firstly, he isn’t allowed to intentionally cut a cycle short, no matter how much time is left, no matter how much he misses her. Secondly, if she’s gone, he has to take care of Barry.

Taako isn’t sure what his sister was thinking with the second one. ‘Taako’ and ‘take care of’ are not words that naturally go together for anyone other than Lup. He loves the entire crew, of course he does, but he would rather kill for them than comfort them.

This is the first cycle where Lup is dead and neither Taako nor Barry had gone with her.

Food is always an effective way to build a bridge between two stubborn souls. Taako steps foot into the Starblaster’s kitchen for the first time since the disaster a few weeks ago. Lucretia is a passable cook, so the remaining crew haven’t been suffering too much, but her meals are nothing compared to the twins’ concoctions.

Absolutely everything on this ship reminds Taako of his sister (pretty much every aspect of existence reminds him of his sister), but the kitchen is particularly salient. He stands in the doorway and breathes through it, thankful that no one is around. Lup is the only one who knows him at his core, the only one who’s ever seen his soft, fragile centre. Magnus has been digging closer and closer every cycle with his big hands and even bigger smile. But there’s no one Taako trusts like he trusts Lup.

And she’s gone.

And he made her a promise.

There are so many lakes on this world. Taako had spent most of springtime fishing and filleting, so the freezer is full. He takes out a few cuts of cod, expertly deboned, as well as some salt, pepper, lemon, chili powder, and dill. He starts the rice boiling and thaws the fish with a flick of his wand. The meat hasn’t been frying for too long before Magnus and Lucretia appear at the kitchen table, summoned by the smell. They’re looking at him with an irritating mixture of encouragement and wariness. He ignores them and focuses on cooking. He’s mentally batting away memories and feelings constantly and it’s starting to take a toll.

The kitchen is silent except for the sizzle of fish in the pan and the soft murmur of boiling rice. Taako transmutes some beans into asparagus and tosses that in the pan as well.

“Fucking talk,” he says to the stove.

Magnus startles into conversation. Taako feels his friends’ gazes move away from his back and toward each other. He focuses on their chat even though it’s boring. It’s easier than fighting his heart’s insistent ache.

He avoids looking at their faces while he places their meals in front of them. “Thank you,” Lucretia says softly. Magnus places a big, warm hand on the wizard’s shoulder.

Taako feels his mouth press into a shadow of a smile. He squeezes Magnus’s hand and steps away. “Dig in. I’m gonna bring some to the lab rat.”

Barry is asleep at his desk, drooling on a sketch of one of his prototypes. Taako sets the plate down next to him and watches the smell wake him up. His glasses are askew even when he lifts his head.

There’s an awful moment when he looks at Taako and his face softly lights up. Taako’s stomach sinks, and then Barry comes fully into awareness and looks away. Taako regrets shaving his face his morning and he regrets wearing his hair up the way Lup usually does before bed. He doesn’t blame Barry for the disappointment.

“This is good shit, so you’d better not let it get cold,” Taako says. He leans against the workbench with his arms crossed.

“Smells good,” Barry replies with his characteristic, gruff awkwardness. Taako tries not to fidget. The chill of Lup’s absence is strongest in the kitchen, but it’s swirling around the lab, too. It’s typical to see Lup sprawled on the couch pretty much every evening, chattering while Barry tries and fails to focus on his work.

Barry puts a forkful of rice in his mouth and speaks around it. Gross. “Did you eat already?”

Taako is absentmindedly surprised when he realizes he hasn’t eaten anything except a bite of toast that Magnus practically shoved in his mouth this morning. He curses himself for thinking about it too long and ruining what could have been a perfectly good lie. “Yep, sure did.”

“Taako…” Barry says disapprovingly, lowering his fork.

“Get outta my ass, Barry. I’m, like, a hundred years old, or something.” Age doesn’t mean much to them, anymore. “Don’t treat me like a child.”

“I’m not treating you like a child. I’m treating you like – ” He sighs. “Do you have some left over upstairs?”

“Yeah,” Taako lies. He walks toward the door. “Gonna go eat now, so…enjoy, or whatever.”

Barry rubs his eyes under his glasses. “Thanks, Taako.”

“Shit,” Taako mutters as he climbs the stairs. Why didn’t Lup tell Magnus or Lucretia to take care of Barry? Hell, anyone would do a better job than him.

Taako enters the now empty kitchen and casts Prestidigitation to clean the dishes, but he stops before he can leave for the upper deck. There’s a full plate of food on the table. It’s obvious that Magnus and Lucretia had each put half of their meal onto a clean plate. They’re taking advantage of his inability to throw away food, engrained from his childhood. Taako sighs but sits at the table to eat. He feels more solid when he’s done, but just as empty.

The next day is better.

“Come for a walk,” Taako demands from Barry’s bedroom doorway. Barry yelps and covers his chest with a blanket.

“Taako!”

“Come for a walk!” the elf repeats, leaving the door ajar as he leaves.

Barry joins him on the Starblaster’s lower deck in a few minutes, hair messy but fully clothed. “Where are we going?”

Before Taako has a chance to respond, Magnus rushes in. “Don’t forget your cloak – it’s kinda cold. Oh, hey, Barry. You coming with us?”

“I guess I am.”

“Great!”

Magnus hands Barry his denim jacket and throws Taako’s thicker cloak in his direction. The security officer himself is wearing a wool-lined vest with no sleeves. Taako resists the urge to roll his eyes when he notices.

The men don’t talk a lot as they traverse the path that Magnus and Taako have worn down over the last few weeks. They skip rocks on the surface of the still water. Barry stays far away from the water’s edge. Magnus picks Taako up and pretends he’s about to throw him in. Instead of protesting, Taako looks the man in the eyes with a challenge. “Do it. I fucking dare you, Burnsides.” Magnus freezes and just stands there holding the elf in his arms for a moment. Taako smirks. “That’s what I thought.”

Barry disappears into his lab when they return to the ship, but Taako still considers it a success. After a few days, Barry no longer needs to be woken up; he joins them in the foyer, sleepy but ready, every morning. Lucretia comes, too, when she’s not out negotiating.

Taako cooks when he can.

Sometimes he’s good. Sometimes the air of the kitchen suffocates him. Barry sees him once, standing in the pantry, frozen and overwhelmed. “Hey,” he says. There’s something soft and complex in his expression when Taako whirls around.

“What’s up, my man?” Taako’s voice breaks more than usual. The stiffness of his hands betrays him, too. Barry beckons him out of the pantry. Taako follows quietly as the scientist travels to the Starblaster’s upper deck.

The endless night sky is strangely comforting. There aren’t many constants in their life besides each other, their target, and their enemy. But the sky is always there and ready to take them away.

Barry opens a hatch near the centre of the deck and brings out what looks like a piece from a broken chair. “Ready?” he asks.

“What?”

Barry just nods and then throws the item high into the air. Taako understands when it reaches his highest peak, but he can’t bring himself to take out his wand. The piece of wood falls into a nearby like with a soft splash.

“Oh, sorry,” Barry says awkwardly. “You’re supposed to hit it with a spell –”

“I know what I’m supposed to do, Barry. I’ve lived with her my whole life,” Taako snaps. He takes a breath and tries again. “Look, I appreciate what you’re trying to do here, man. But that’s her. She feels things build up inside and needs to let ‘em out in a way she can control. But I- …I’m not full of anything.” He turns to leave. “So, thanks, dude, but this isn’t gonna work for me.”

Barry grabs his wrist. “Taako, wait!” He looks a little helpless. “Then what does work for you? Tell me.”

“I don’t know.”

“Come on.” Barry attempts a smile but he’s shivering a little in the night air. “Like you said to me the other day – you’re over a hundred years old. You know. So, tell me what makes you feel better when you feel like shit so I can help you out.”

“I don’t want your fucking help, Barry.”

“Well, that’s too damn bad!” Barry rarely raises his voice. It echoes across the empty deck and is swallowed by the night sky. “Tell me, Taako.”

He knows the answer will hurt both of them when it leaves his mouth, but he says it anyway. “Being with her.” Barry averts his gaze and Taako feels both sick and triumphant. “Just…being in her company makes me feel like a person again. So. Unless you can do that for me, I think we’re done here.”

Taako stands outside Magnus’s bedroom door for a few minutes. He raises his hand to knock then lowers it again. He spends the night on a nearby dock, listening to the waves lap against the shore and slowly emptying a bottle of rum.

The next morning, they pretend it didn’t happen. They go for their morning walk and let Magnus carry the conversation.

Lucretia gets the Light of Creation against all odds – and just in time. There’s only about two days left in this Cycle. Taako makes her favourite dish, piri piri chicken, and they allow themselves to celebrate with wine and music. It never feels completely right to celebrate, knowing the Hunger is still going to cause a lot of damage, but they need to allow themselves these small successes. The men also feel the need to show appreciation to Lucretia, since she worked tirelessly to save this world while they went for walks and crashed the ship into lakes.

Magnus is dancing with Lucretia in the kitchen and Taako makes a quick exit before the big man can trap him in another embrace. He finds Barry on the couch, lost in thought. He sits down beside him, touching their wine glasses together in a small toast. “We made it,” the wizard says before taking another drink.

“Yeah,” Barry says. They’re both thinking the same thing. They’ll see her again soon.

Barry turns to face him. “Listen, Taako, I’m sorry I was so pushy the other night.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“It’s just…” Barry sighs. “I promised her I’d take care of you and I –”

“What?” Taako interrupts. They look at each other, incredulous and inquiring. “She made me promise to take care of you, dude.”

Barry smiles and laughs. Taako fumes. As if Barry Bluejeans could take care of him – what was she thinking? “We both did kind of a shit job, didn’t we?” Barry says.

“Hey, without me you would’ve starved to death.”

“Yeah, that’s fair.”

A few days later, Magnus flies the Starblaster through the Hunger’s advancing tendrils, their bodies fragment, and the entire crew materializes in their set places. Before Lup can even take a breath, Taako shoves her hard. “What the fuck?” she sputters. He silences her with a hug.

The IPRE crew puts the past behind them and they settle into a new life on a new world. Barry and Lup go back to their routine of being attached at the hip and stubbornly not talking about their feelings. Lup and Taako cook and practice magic together. Barry and Taako aren’t close, per se, but they tolerate each other in a new, honest and kind way.

It’s worth it to see the smile on Lup’s face.

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randomnameless · 3 years

Note

You said starting a war is never a solution, but wasn't the war of heroes started by seiros who wanted revenge and wilhelm who wanted to conquer the world?

Yes, yes I did.

And I think it is one of the main reasons why Rhea absolutely wants to protect peace now, because she saw first hand what happens when you start a war.

On the other hand... Just like her crappy S-support where she is given no answer to her interrogation "did the war start because of me?", can we really say Rhea started the war? Maybe she should have hid for 1892 years and waited for Nemesis to die, without finding her to debone her, so maybe he would have forgotten how he came in possession of his relic? Ditto for the Dudes?

Seiros was, per Rhea's words, roaming around the world, only seeking revenge - but we know it's false. Seiros built a canal for the people on Enbarr, and I do not see how building a canal served her revenge. Seiros performed miracles (and it's highly inferred she used white magic to heal people), again, this doesn't have anything to do with her revenge.

Maybe she built the canal playing Civ - if the people in Enbarr aren't dying from pathetic sanitary conditions, then they can focus on being more numerous, thus higher numbers for her army - and the miracles? maybe just performed to make people believe she really is a prophet and follow her - it sort of worked since they built a church in her name

But given her actions as Rhea - when she is apparently obsessed with reviving her mother but still helps oprhans, old people, people no one wants, makes an academy, opens an animal shelter, etc etc - I don't think the "Seiros played Civ with humans" theory has any credence.

What's the link? Well, Seiros plans her revenge but wastes her time helping random humans, and she's still on a timer because the second a human notices her nature she's dead.

How the war started? Idk.

Did Rhea, with 50 humans, rushed against Nemesis to kill him, when Willy thought it was free real estate from the Dudes when Seiros'd get rid of them?

Did the Dudes asked Willy where's that dragon he modeled his horns after and Willy answered with his white sword - thus starting the war - instead of selling her?

Did Willy invade Dominic's lands because he wanted to unify Fodlan under his rule to make, idk "a world full of smiles" and Seiros really believed him so she joined, as it also gave her an occasion to remove the Dudes?

This would also mean that WoH Seiros thought it was alright to start a war if they are fighting for a just cause, when Rhea adopts Deg's isolationist (somehow) behaviour - wars should be avoided no matter what even if they are fought for a "good" reason.

Ultimately Tibarn was right, Deg's wishes to protect peace at all costs were, while commendable, ultimately wrong, since humans will always fight for some reason or another.

With 3H, I suppose the morale of the story would be "it's not about fighting a war or keeping peace, the truth path is the path where only one ruler guides the world, thus guarantees there'd be no fights under his dominion - Willy, Seiros and ultimately Edel weren't qualified to rule the world, but you, Billy, are."

#anon #replies #FE16 #rhea stuff #war of heroes #deghinsea and tibarn's pre battle convo was really nice #it will always annoy me how Tellius managed to develop all those questions #or at least raise them #and yet ended up with this protagonist #is it the wilhelm hour?#was the dude a proto Eliwood #a mad conqueror or a mix between the two?#rhea playing civ 'i will build the city in mountains and secure food there'#seteth 'you can't food doesnt' grow on mountain tiles'#rhea 'silly cichol you didn't download Mom's patch'

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ishouldgetatumbler · 3 years

Text

Kissed an cast into the sea

Fandom: HunterxHunter

Pairing: Mito Freecs/Illumi Zoldyck (Miumi)

Warnings: Alcohol, Illumi’s brain

Word count: 5343

AO3

A man was sitting at her kitchen table. He was tall, even sitting he was nearly as tall as Mito. He was watching her with the palm of one hand resting on the back of his other. His hair was long and black; it seemed expensively cared for. His clothes were clashing, and poofy, but his face was all business. Mito wanted to curl up in fear of his big dead eyes.

Right. Okay.

She was standing in the doorway of her home, holding a fish by the severed fishing line. Her hair was tied back and her dress was sky blue with clouds drawn from spilled bleach and white paint. It was darker blue at the knees and below, where the marsh water soaked it through. Her rubber boots squelched on the tiles of her kitchen, mud caked wellington boots oozing onto the floor.

Right. Okay.

She set down her catch on the cutting board before stepping on the toe of her rubber boot and working herself free of it. The next shoe she stood on one foot to pull off with her hands. She set the both of them in a tin caked with sand and dry and turned to the person sitting at her table.

He was still there, eyes on her curiously as she stood in soaked wooly socks. The fact he was still there made the fear worse.

Right. Okay.

"Ging isn't here right now."

The man cocked his head to one side, curiously.

"You're not the first person to try this. I don't know where Ging is and I don't know how to find him."

She'd said that to everyone who had come through looking for Ging. It was the truth, but she always imagined she could find Ging if she really wanted to.

"Gon Freecs? Do you know where he is?"

That was new. Gon really did take after his father.

"No."

The stranger looked at her reproachfully. He wasn't the first to believe breaking into her house would scare her. They'd come and gone, polite euphemisms for threats and poorly concealed weapons. She didn’t see any weapons, but the man was too calm to be threatening her without one.

"He broke my arm." He added after a moment, still reproachful.

She gave a tight smile with no humor or joy.

"I'm sorry to hear that."

The stranger continued to look reproachfully at her.

"He kidnapped my brother as well. Boys really should not be taken from home at such a formative age."

"Kidnapping? That doesn't sound like Gon."

"I'm very certain he did. Killua Zoldyck?"

Things clicked into place. She tried to remember his name, scrawled on loose leaf paper three times folded. Gon's handwriting was nearly illegible when he was excited. That name was in one of the three paragraphs reduced to squiggles as he talked about Killua.

"Illumi is it?"

He raised both his hands from the table, putting them up as if to say 'you caught me.'

"Hi."

He watched her as she gathered laundry for the drying lines, swept out the mud she'd tracked in and washed her hands again to begin preparing the fish. She hesitated for a moment before grabbing her knife. Good, she understood the situation.

She scraped the scales from the fish with the same intense focus Gon had broken his arm. So it was hereditary. She laid the fish on its side, deboning it and gutting it with a few sharp moves. She glanced at the fish as she set it aside, blindly reaching for another. Her hand found an empty countertop, and she turned to Illumi.

"Could you go to the market and buy another salmon?"

Illumi cocked his head to one side. She didn't seem unnerved. "Why?"

"Because I have two people to feed tonight." She grabbed her apron, using it to wipe at the bits of fish on her hands.

She’d moved on very quickly. She knew he was dangerous, she knew he was after her son by extension, but she didn’t know why. It was probably in her best interest to stay polite, in case he was there to help. But she knew about him, she knew his name. How much did she know? She was offering him dinner, so it couldn't be much.

He could kill her and puppet her, but maintaining that concentration would be harder than just waiting for his brother to return. Maybe a few needles, to make her more obedient. The Zoldycks were made to have power in any case.

He tutted his tongue as it occurred to him Killua would notice if he ever came back, and that attention to detail was why he'd tried to cut his prodigy brother out of the mix in the first place. Everything would be so much more… cooperative when he'd stuck a few needles in Killua's brain. He was twirling a needle now, spinning it end over end between his fingers.

Killua would be the head of the family, of course. Tradition had to be upheld, and it was easier to deliver bad news through someone else's lips. And maybe, for some mysterious reason, Killua decided never to marry or officially sire that duty would just have to fall to the eldest relative. And after having a son who could be heir, Illumi could-

Illumi noticed he was walking back up the hill, holding a bag in his other hand. He stopped, instinct stopping the needle he was holding in the throwing position. How had she done that? He stared at the ground, at the foot worn path back up the hillside and he waited for the feeling of nen to crawl over him.

Instead, he remembered what happened; his memories creeping out from hidden places like they were ashamed. He was embarrassed to see them.

She had just… asked him to go shopping again. He replayed it in his head over and over, trying to piece it together. He was distracted, thinking about the future, and she'd said, very firmly, "You're just going to sit there and think, go out to the store already!" He’d idly translated this, before saying "Guáng jiē", repeating the verb to indicate he'd do as he was told.

He'd only ever spoken Chinese with his mother and grandfather, and both of them spoke like that to him. Was that all it had taken?

Illumi started walking again; his steps short and angry. No, that was quite impossible. He'd worked very hard to remove such needless extremities from the brutal, exact machinery of assassination. Emotional blindspots were a luxury he couldn’t afford. The six dozen needles he kept lodged in various parts of his body were supposed to help with that.

He stopped, before digging his heel into the dirt with force enough to fold sheet metal. He was pouting, he knew he was pouting and he was basically stomping and whining, but it was a Command. A command he had listened to. He never wanted that to happen again, that's why he did any of this. Power is just the ability to say No.

Mito was halfway down the glass before she caught herself. She was thinking about the boys again, about Gon and Killua. Apparently her hands had grabbed the bottle and a pair of glasses from the cupboard. Scotch. She licked her lips, trying to chase it’s cruel taste away. The scotch laid plans on it’s own; oiling the inside of her skull to send her brain skidding across it.

They were probably in the forest somewhere, having an adventure. Chasing rumors and stipulation through the wild places. She scoffed at her own fantasy: it would be nice if the world worked like that, but it didn't. There were people out there, intelligent motivated people, who only wanted to hurt people. As she thought this to herself, she saw Illumi crest the top of the hill, gaunt form holding a gently swaying bag. He might kill her.

She took another drink and her eyes watered; at the taste, at the smell, but mostly at the fact she hadn't been strong enough to dump out the glass.

She could still see his silhouette from the road. He was tall, must have been more than six feet. His hands, fingers long thin and agile, sprang into her mind. It was easy to imagine them slipping gently around her neck. She gripped the front of her dress and tried to make that a scary image.

She was sitting at the table: brown skin and freckles, soft red hair cut short and strange. He gestured with the bag. She smiled at him.

"Thank you."

He made a noncommittal noise and nodded his head.

She stood, before walking closer, but he cut her off, stepping smartly to the counter's edge and placing the bag down on it, before looking at her.

"Yú."

Mito nodded, and took one or two slow, lumbering steps to the counter. He couldn't be bothered to count for once, he was busy watching her face.

You were supposed to be able to learn alot from watching someone's face, but Illumi had never quite got the trick of it. He could tell you what a face was like, if he liked looking at it and what it was doing, but had no idea what it was supposed to mean.

He could see the redness of her cheeks. The glassy, watery look in her eyes. Her eyelids were puffy as well, agitated and swollen. She took a short glance at him, before turning back to her fish and cutting board.

A moment later she said, "If you're just going to stand there gawking, go and close the door."

Illumi was halfway turned around when he caught himself. There it was again: that emotional blind spot. He turned back to her.

"You keep doing that. Do you mean to?"

Mito’s knife dug in at the base of the fish's spine, and froze there. Her eyes went wide looking at it. Fear was an expression he knew, but it was a volatile thing: it melted into other expressions and emotions so quickly it was useless to identify.

"No." She said, after a pregnant pause.

Illumi considered this, rolling it around in his mind, this way and that.

"You're lying," he concluded.

Fear pounded at the back of Mito's mind. She would have a headache from it later, if the scotch hadn't already taken care of that. He was looking at her like a child inspecting an ant. She wanted to be angry about this, but she was just scared. He could kill her.

She mustered the will to look him in the eyes. They were dark brown, she'd mistaken them for black from a distance. His nose was small and pointed. His mouth pressed into a thin, expressionless line. She looked away, back to the fish before deboning it.

He was tapping his finger on the counter. His body was contorted, bent at nearly every joint to put his face next to hers. His hair drooled down onto the cooled burners, and his eyes bore a hole in the side of her face.

She realized he was offended, and was waiting for her to apologize. She, an ant to his eyes, had told him to do something, and he'd done it. This was an affront to his power and oh, he's a boy. Roughly her age too, by the look of him. Boys never liked to be bossed around by a girl their own age; they were sensitive about that sort of thing.

Her mother and father had met in a similar way, albeit less veiled threats and mysterious intentions. She had walked into the wrong house, and was halfway through making herself a snack before she noticed. From her father’s perspective, a beautiful woman had wandered in and started eating his food.

It was like that, the scotch told her, before she tamped the thought down. The giddy feeling still bubbled up out from under her heel and let out of her in a soft teary giggle.

"What's funny?" He asked finally.

His tone was calm, speaking like the sound of an iced over lake cracking. Mito's brain whirred, and her hands gutted the fish on instinct.

"I was just thinking this almost feels like a date."

She shouldn’t have said it. She should have kept it to herself, but the sickening taste of booze made her tongue eager to move.

Illumi took a step back from her.

Oh. Oh. Why had he never thought of that? He had never considered she could be useful. He was daydreaming instead of planning. After he'd puppeted Killua, after his father retired as head and Killua succeeded him, Illumi would need to sire the next heir.

She had clearly raised a capable son. She would, as was tradition, kill his mother and take her role as matriarch and teacher. He could sculpt the next generation through her. It would be so eloquent. The same person he used to establish his power would solidify it.

Illumi sat at the table, brushing away imaginary dust.

"I suppose it is." He said finally.

They had never said a word.

Illumi had sat across from her, taking seconds and thirds without a moment of eye contact or conversation. He seemed to be judging her by the food, taking a moment or two sometimes to slowly chew, or try a sauce in isolation. He didn’t speak, perhaps waiting for her to crack. She could feel him watching her when she looked away. It was like the feeling of a spider crawling up your back.

Mito hadn’t spoken either, but she had no idea what to say. Her drunken suggestion had been taken all too seriously, and she really didn’t know what to do now that she had been taken up on it. What was she supposed to say? "Why do you want to kill my son?" The answer was obvious: Gon had stepped in Illumi's plans, sprinting down the muddy road towards Ging. He must have done it a hundred times on his journey.

And what about Illumi? What did he want in any case? Why sit down to dinner? She had decided not to ask based on a parable Abe had once told her, about asking a tightrope walker how he kept his balance. If you asked the wrong question, someone could die.

She dabbed at her mouth, cleaning the sauce and fat from the edges of her lip. Illumi looked up, fork laden with breaded fish and seared vegetables.

"Can I help you?"

It wasn't a rude thing to ask, and she was genuinely interested in the answer. He was on his third plate in any case, When someone's belly was full was the best time to ask probing questions.

Illumi set his fork down.

"Do you live alone here?"

Mito stood sharply up, turning to wash her plate. His hand was around her wrist. Her brain sloshed angrily around in her head as she jerked to stop, mashing into one side and the other. The back of her eyes hurt too, stinging and aching in turns. She tugged against his gripping fingers, the joints in her arm threatening to dislocate as she pulled

"You're very strong." He commented.

She looked back at him.

"Yes, I am. Those who live on Whale Island are hardy."

She tried to spin the inflection so that it sounded like they were a community. The truth was that she was so strong because she worked the pole barges and row boats by herself, refusing to split her wages with anyone. They'd needed that money once; doctors were expensive on Whale Island. Now that Abe was gone, she did it for the principle of the thing.

"You're angry." He said, slightly accusing.

"Never touch a woman without permission, you're liable to lose a hand."

He looked at her, and then cracked into a smile. She tried to not to be fascinated by that smile.

"You know I live alone," she finally answered.

Illumi nodded, saying "yes, I suppose I did. I was waiting for you to lie to me."

The anger and fear were mixing with something in her guts, probably the alcohol, and the mixture made her stomach froth with undigested butterflies.

“I don’t lie.” she said, lying.

“Then perhaps you’ll tell me the truth this time. Where is Gon Freecs?”

He wasn’t squeezing her arm, just holding his hand in an implacable shape around it; only touching her skin when she pulled against him. She tried to think, but found her mind stumbling back and forth over the warm pressure of his hand around her wrist as she pulled. She was still drunk, the processes of her mind mummified by alcohol.

“Do you really expect me to sell out my child?”

Illumi hummed.

“I hoped you would.”

Mito snorted, “You don’t know me very well.”

Illumi nodded, and said “I suppose I don’t, but I think you could be useful.”

He added, after a moment, “I could make you tell me.”

For the first time, he tightened his grip slightly around her wrist. It wasn’t a painful grip, like sailors would use, it was nearly promissory; implying he could squeeze much, much harder if he had to.

She could struggle, but part of her suspected he would tear her arm from the socket and that would begin the pain. He’d reacted well to an offer of dinner, perhaps he would be willing to sit through more. Or he would get tired of the charade and break her arm. The heavy meal was sobering her quickly, and aggressively apparently. She licked her lips, and tried to pitch the tone right.

“Drink with me.”

Illumi browsed over her liquor cabinet, and she busied herself with the dishes. Her pulse jumped when she suggested it, which meant she may have poisoned them. At the same time, he had no idea what he was looking for, and it’s not as though poison would do much. There were bottles of various heights all crammed into the cabinet, and at least a dozen of them were identical and unlabelled: frosted glass and rounded edges. He tapped a finger on his chin, and turned to look at her by the sink.

She was humming to herself. It was sad, and the tone tilted and swayed like a ship in the sea. He could feel his emotions stir inside their cage. One of the pins in his chest twinged, regulating his heartbeat. He looked back to the cabinet, before pulling out one of the identical bottles from the middle of the pack. He set it on the table as she wiped her hands on her apron.

"You can pick one of the nicer boozes." She said lifting his bottle to inspect it.

Illumi cocked his head to one side.

"Isn't it what you use the most of? I imagine you'd be less likely to poison those. Not that poison would do much mind you."

She scoffed, and delicately bit the cork and pulled it loose with her teeth.

"Boaster."

She made a good point. Why had he told her that? It served no practical use to mention, it was better to wait for the taste of poison. His father had once mentioned that he believed everyone could be seduced by power. This probably wasn't the seduction he meant, but Illumi supposed it would work. He could show his power to her, informing her the differences of their abilities.

Gently, he slid his fingers between hers, around the bottle. She turned slowly to face him, her other hand frozen while rooting through a cabinet for glasses. He took the bottle, pressing the mouth of it to his lips and drinking.

The taste was unpleasant.

He set the bottle on the table without looking at it. Her eyes were hazel, not the pure brown of her son. They were looking at him the way Hisoka looked at everyone, though perhaps not exactly the same. She wasn't like anyone else. After having this thought, Illumi realized two things.

One, his mother should have trained their tolerances for poison more broadly. She had insufficiently trained them for what she called "low poisons," or poisons people generally used for entertainment. This would be rectified when Mito was matriarch.

Two, whatever they were drinking was, at least legally speaking, unfit for human consumption. It had more in common with disinfectant alcohol than anything most humans could safely drink. Perhaps Gon's remarkable tolerance was genetic.

She looked him in the eyes as she turned her head slightly away from him, lifting the bottle and pressing it to her lips. She drank silently and greedily, and when she turned back to him, her mouth smelled of pungent moonshine. He wanted to kiss it. Instead, he took the bottle back from her, feeling the skin of her hands a much as he could before she relaxed the neck into his grip, and took his own drink.

Chasing the imagined taste of her lips, he drained the bottle through his Adam's apple, feeling it burn in the backs of his eyes and the weight of his stomach. He hadn’t been truly poisoned in such a long time, the feeling was nearly pleasant. He sat at the table, deliberately and carefully setting down the bottle with the care of someone who doesn’t trust his fingers. He adjusted his ass, having apparently missed the chair the first time. He looked up at Mito expectantly.

She grabbed another bottle, and a pair of glasses, before sitting across him, apparently less drunk. She poured each of them a generous glass of ethanol flavored like sulfur. She drank first, taking a long shallow drink of the stuff. He matched her pace, drinking less steadily and more deeply. He could feel the tight pressed spring of his instincts and reaction time starting to loosen. It made him feel vulnerable, insecure.

She was pouring him another glass, hardly looking at him. He furrowed his brows looking at her, trying to read her face.

“What are you thinking about?”

The clear, reeking liquid stopped in it’s journey to his glass, the bottle turned at an angle to stop it. She chuckled slightly.

“Gon and Killua,” she said.

Another needle jammed into the base of Illumi’s throat twinged, stopping a hiccup before it formed.

“He would be safer at home,” he said.

Mito chuckled.

“I don’t think Killua would see it that way.”

Illumi shook his head, before taking another few swallows of the stuff. It hurt, and the needle he’d used to stop hiccups would twitch every few seconds, hurting him to inform he was drunk. The tears dried behind his eyes made it clear they wanted out.

“ I’m not talking about Killua. Gon. The boy. Things would be easier for me too if he was home.”

He finally drained the glass again, and as he set it down Mito refilled it, expression blank, staring off at his chest.

“We want the same things,” he ventured finally.

She chuckled. It sounded like windchimes

“Do we?”

He nodded, ignoring the pain of bouncing his head.

“Safety for the people we love. A future full of choice. Power.”

She chuckled again. It sounded like rain tapping on the roof.

“You’re a very sad man Mr. Zoldyck.”

Illumi shook his head, making himself briefly dizzy.

“Nuh-uh.”

“Drink up.” she said, in that ordering tone of hers.

Illumi pressed the rim of the glass to his mouth, and paused.

“You’re poisoning me.” he said after a moment.

Mito hummed a questioning sound.

“You’re poisoning me.” he repeated.

“No,” she mused, “you’re poisoning yourself.”

He surged to his feet, but drunk he was too slow. Glass shattered and her hands were wrapped around his throat. She had to stand on tip toes to reach him. He could feel the cool edges of her fingernails scrape the skin. She’d overpowered him. A needle he’d stuck into his hip twinged, keeping his cock flaccid. They froze for a moment.

“What now?” he asked, airways unrestricted.

Mito looked him in the eyes, before finally answering, “you’re drunk.”

Illumi nodded limply.

She pushed and he keeled backwards, losing balance like he’d never had it to start. His view of the world sloshed and slid, like his eyes were made of water.

Why had he played this game? He would have never challenged father, or Killua, or even Gon to it’s like. Perhaps his mother. Perhaps any other woman. Did the Zoldycks have blindspots just the same as everyone else? That was a worrying thought.

Fortunately, his head impacted the floor a moment or two after he’d had it.

Mito tried to find her balance, her equilibrium apparently as drunk as she was. It swayed and tottered as her feet danced the sailor’s two step, then five step, then steadied her. She’d had to put her full strength and weight into shoving him over. His skull had dented the flooring. She wound one leg back and swiftly kicked him between the legs.

He didn’t make a noise, just rocked slightly in place. Then he was good and unconscious. She waddled drunkenly to his other end and tried to weave her arms under his armpits. It took a few tries, between drunken guesstimation and catching, vinyl fabric of his clothes. Once she had a grip, she crouched low and heaved. His body dragged and Mito took it with her as she took a few clumsy steps back.

His ass caught on the doorframe. She hadn’t actually thought this out past this. What was she going to do with him? Drag him out to a sandbar and leave him to drown at high tide? Drop him face first into a puddle? Somehow it all felt cruel. He hadn’t hurt her, and the fact he would if he could was hard to hold against him, seeing him laid out. In any case, he had to get out of her house.

She relaxed, letting his head hit the porch wood. She stretched out her back, wishing she hadn’t been so damn hard on her body when she was younger. She looked down at him. His shirt had hiked up to reveal skin across his stomach, equal parts toned and scarred. He clearly hadn’t had a terrific childhood either. He could just be a victim of circumstance.

She stepped carefully around his sprawled arm, grabbing a tacky high heel shoe with each hand before stepping back. She heard his head impact the wall as she tried to rotate him through the door, watching his body curl to fit. With a last, less-than-safe heave, she pulled him though. He would likely be in a lot of pain tomorrow anyway. Would a hangover and mountain of bruises not suffice?

She squatted low again, and a little sobered by the work, she tried to lift him. Carrying it like Abe’s bags of sweet trout, she laid him across her shoulders. He was dangerous, that much she could be certain. She could write a note, explaining he would be killed next time she saw him. But he was well mannered, human even, under the odd clothes and blank expression. She started waddling to the port. She wanted him off her island at the least.

She found a secluded jetty, a few rowboats with sailor’s most complicated knots tying them to the docks. She picked hers, farthest inland and threw, as best she could, 200 pounds of murderer into it. He landed feet first, the boat keeling and splashing as his full weight hit the bow. In a moment of surprise, she found her hands reaching for her apron tie, ready to strip the excess fabric and dive in to save him. The boat steadied.

She stepped in, carefully to avoid stepping on him. She let out a sigh. What now? She could row him to the Gzana, drop him at one of the hotels near the port. She hadn’t brought her coins, and she couldn’t risk him coming too while they were halfway there. She sighed, looking back at him.

He was pretty, and that might be the hardest part about killing him. It was a shallow reason to be sure, but she couldn't shake the feeling it would be wrong. The world would be a better place, but it wouldn't be the right place. She traced her hand along the line of his jaw, feeling the steady pump of blood. She hadn't killed people before, and it was supposed to change you to do so.

He was very pretty, lips softly parted and long black hair splayed out like an angel's halo. It mingled with the water, cast across the boat like the shadows of night. His eyes, wide and disconcerting, were closed.

She leaned down, careful to keep balance in the small row boat, and kissed him. Then she clambered back onto the pier, taking a sharp breath to bring down her blush.

One hand on the dock’s pillar for support, she got down on her knees to unmoor the boat, and, as an afterthought, snatched one of the oars, before gently shoving the boat out to sea with a bare foot

The tide around Whale Island is different than it is around most land masses; the sea seems to ignore it, like a sandbar or a sea stack. On clear night at low water, it's as good as riptide for getting out to sea. Mito watched as the horizon, blurred by fading moonlight, swallowed her small boat.

Illumi awoke to the scream of seagulls and the piercing pain of his headache. There were other aches and pains, spread out like paint smears across his body. Without open his eyes, fearing he would be blind with pain and sunlight, he stuffed his hand in his pocket and withdrew a needle, sticking it carefully between the ridges of his spine. The pain stopped, and he dared to open his eyes.

A sky blue dress with clouds of bleach and flour.

The needle in his spine was not something he liked to use, he was liable to forget it was there, and pain was useful for keeping track of damage, but worst of all it stopped his other needles from hurting. The only way he knew his heart rate picked up was the feeling of it, hammering in his chest. He sat up.

The ocean surrounded him, featureless. He might have imagined it was heaven or hell if not for the smell; too imperfect to be either. He withdrew his phone from one pocket, turning it on to ascertain his location.

He’d missed messages from his father. That would be trouble, but it could wait. He flipped on the GPS, and tried not to sigh. He was nowhere near anything, floating in the international waters between Azia and Yorbia. He looked around, trying to take stock of what he had. One oar, an empty tackle box, and his phone.

Only one oar. Quaint. It left him unable to row his boat, only to meander in circles. No doubt it was a popular way for amateurs to kill, they generally don't enjoy the crunchy parts of the work.

For a moment, he considered calling his family for help, but he knew better than that. He took a few minutes to braid his hair, holding the phone in his teeth, before stripping and folding his clothes in the boat. For a moment he took the phone in his hand, ensuring he understood the direction he had to go, before smashing against the floor of the boat. It would never survive the journey.

He tried not to think about her, and found it vexingly difficult. She could have killed him. She should have, by all rights. He was a danger to everything she held dear. He cracked his neck, then his shoulders, then his back.

She should have killed him. Why hadn’t she?

He dived.

#hxh #hunterxhunter #Illumi Zoldyck #Mito Freecs #Mito/Illumi #illumi/mito #fanfic #mystuff

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cannibalcreeps · 4 years

Note

How would the hiliker brothers react to their S/o talking on the phone. And their S/o accidentally chokes and they heard the person on the end say. I bet the people you live with could make you choke.

This is very specific 😂 That person on the phone better be a close friend else that’s some weird inappropriate thing to be saying to some stranger 😬 -- The fact you’re even allowed to talk on the phone in the first place is a surprise, but if you ever got the chance it would be to only speak with someone you knew was not going to send cop to come and find where you’ve been all this time. You had only told them you were now living with three partners, it made them curious but polyamorous relationships were nothing unheard of, you were not ready to tell them that they were all brothers and cannibals to top. The three boys would be huddling around you, listening in on the conversation, making sure you were not going to give away anything about them or where you were. They trust you, but there was always the fear that you would attempt to make a run for it. They were mostly afraid of people taking you away though, they had seen what people go through in a Sanatorium, you were like them now so they believed if you were taken you would be put into that torturous facility like they were when they were kidnapped as children. When you were talking, you were snacking on some crumbed fingers, they should have been deboned and have their nails removed but sometimes a finger gets missed and now you were choking on a bone and your friend was continuing chatting away until they heard you choking, letting out a laugh and making that horrid comment “I bet the people you live with could make you choke” One-Eye: The first to react to your coughing fit was One-Eye, being obviously the closest to you purely for the fact he wanted to just lean on you and have you run your fingers through his hair, he would jump up to his feet and start smacking at your back to dislodge the choking. He did not pay much attention to what the person on the phone had even said as he was trying to save you, but you were sure to tell him after. He didn’t know what the comment really meant, why would he choke you? Choking you meant killing you and he would never, he’d switch between confusion and being upset until you had to dumb it down to what the meaning behind the comment meant, he still didn’t like the idea of ‘choking’ you even in a sexual way. 100/10 sweetheart

Three-Fingers:

The second to jump up and help One-Eye smack at your back to dislodge the bone, it was not a fun time have four large killer hands attempting to help you and were actually bruising you up more than anything. Three-Fingers did catch what was said on the phone by the stranger and couldn’t help but do his famous high pitch laughter, finding what was said hilarious. When you were free of the bone and being tended to, he would continue to giggle at your misfortune, finding the whole scenario amusing but would still reach out to make sure you were alright. He didn’t quite understand why this ‘friend’ of yours made such a comment, but he didn’t disagree with it, they could indeed make you choke and you never complained about it in the past. You could only give him a grumpy look at laughing at your misfortune. Saw-Tooth:

Doesn’t react as fast as his two younger brothers and more just casually walks up behind you as One-Eye and Three-Fingers are pummeling your back to save you. So the eldest brother just gives your back one heavy smack and the finger bone comes spitting out of your mouth, you were definitely going to have bruises after all this abuse. When he hears the stranger make the comment about him and his brothers being the ones who could make you ‘choke’ he silently agreed but still scowled as he didn’t like some stranger making such a comment about you like that, close friend of yours or not. Even through your watery eyes you could see he didn’t like what was said, even if Three-Fingers found it funny it was best to just correct the friend later to be careful with what they said on the phone. Saw-Tooth would just begin to rub your back as you were finishing the phone conversation, turning to him with a small smile “Well, at least when you choke me I don’t need all three of you smacking my back to make me stop, you just need a good smack on my ass, heh” It was a lame joke but it still made the big man snort in response.

#Wrong Turn #Wrong Turn writings #wrong turn hilliker brothers #wrong turn x reader #hilliker brothers x reader #getting a few done gonna be slow tho #tbh they probably would not care as like 'oh their partner is choking' tends to be more on their attention lol

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laryna6 · 3 years

Text

I really wish I had the energy to write the verse where JGY/MY goes ‘this is my mother’s grandson’ and ‘which parent do I want to take after as a parent, my slut father or the mother who did everything she could for me?’ and Qin Su straight-up kills Jin Guangshan in front of the entire cultivation world.

JGY would absolutely lean on his sworn brothers for the sake of his son. “Don’t talk shit about Jin Rusong’s... situation! If the Nie sect leader hears about it he will debone you alive!”

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thran-duils · 4 years

Text

Devils Look Like Angels (Ch.11)

Title: Devils Look Like Angels (Chapter 11) Summary: Fem!Reader x Psychotic!Castiel. An unhinged, criminal, supernatural artifact collector extraordinaire… and the reader caught his eye. It will not take her long to realize that beneath the charm and mystique is a crazed killer who will go to great lengths to woo her. Words: 2,507 Warnings (for the fic in entirety): Stalking, angst, death/murder, violence

Chap 10 || Chap 12 || Masterpost || Fanfic masterpost

Slowly, you stretched your legs, waking from your sleep. Squeezing your eyes, your arms stretched, and you became acutely aware they were over someone.

Quickly blinking away sleep, your eyesight focused on the person laying facing the ceiling. You were on your side, arm draped over your torso.

“I was wondering when you were going to wake,” Castiel said gently.

You were away from his side instantaneously, wildly trying to take in your surroundings. You felt sluggish, fatigued. Where were you? And why were you in bed with Castiel?

The bar.

You had been at the bar. And had needed to go to the bathroom. But the line… so you had gone outside. You had met him out there. It was coming back to you, fuzzy, but still the bigger picture was there. You remembered agreeing to go with Castiel, but why?

Becoming acutely aware – again – that you were in bed with him, you eyed him accusingly before throwing the sheets back. He was merely shirtless; you were dressed but wearing different clothes than you had had on at the bar. Some boxers and a t-shirt.

Castiel sighed heavily, “Please, Y/N, again, I’m not a pervert. You were far too intoxicated to give any level of consent.”

He slipped out of bed, stretching himself. You noticed he was wearing swim trunks.

“I made breakfast. It is on the deck out here, next to the hot tub. There is a suit there—” He pointed towards a flower printed one piece on the back of the chair by the desk. “I believe it is your size. Join me?”

He walked around the bed, not waiting for an answer, to the sliding glass door and walked out, disappeared from view.

Rubbing your forehead, you threw your legs over the side of the bed. Where was your phone? Had he hidden it? Or worse, disposed of it? Trying to keep calm, you stood up, eyes roaming the room. It was not on his side of the bed, nor in the bed, or on the dresser. Upon seeing the bathroom, you searched there as well to no avail.

You walked out the door that Castiel had left through, finding him sitting in a hot tub, relaxing. He opened one eye as you approached.

“No suit?”

“I’m hungry.”

It was the truth.

Sitting at the table, you took the cover off the tray, finding eggs, bacon, and fruit.

“Where’s my phone?” you asked directly, stabbing at the eggs. You did not think Castiel meant to poison you, so you would not insult him by asking.

“You left it at the bar,” Castiel told you.

That came back to you now. The moment you had realized it had been left behind on the table. No doubt Dean and Sam had it now, at least you hoped.

“There is more aspirin downstairs if you need it,” Castiel added. “You did take some before passing out, but I am not sure how you are feeling now…?”

He trailed off, and you realized he was looking at you expectantly. You swallowed your food quickly.

“Fine.”

“Miraculous. You always seem to be able to surprise me, kitten,” Castiel said, the corner of his lip turned up in amusement. He continued, “I sent a couple of my men to get you some fresh clothes for you to change into. Until then, the suit is really all I have.”

“Are you going to take me back home?”

Castiel sighed, “Yes. Of course. But are you so eager to leave? Look around you.” He gestured over his shoulder and you followed his arm. The lake was vast, you could see that even through the tree line. Right. The lake house that he had mentioned. Another piece falling into place. “If you do feel good, shower, change into the suit. We can go down to the lake. It is going to be a warm day.”

You said nothing, chewing on the bacon.

“I am constantly trying to impress you. I just cannot figure out why it is so hard, kitten.”

“I… the lake is nice. It looks beautiful. And thank you for breakfast. It is tasty.”

Relaxing against the side of the tub again, Castiel stated, “Well, at least I have seemed to have finally done some things right.”

Uncomfortable with the situation, you continued eating, trying to go as quickly as possible without making a mess. Castiel was basking in the hot tub, watching you lazily through half open lids.

When you finished, you stood up and said, “Should I take this inside to the kitchen?”

“Don’t bother. I can do it. I should be getting out of this tub anyway. It has been twenty minutes; I do not want to overheat and leave you abandoned when I have such a lovely day planned.”

“Okay,” you said, playing with the hem of your shirt. “I suppose now is a good a time as ever to change.”

“Quite,” Castiel agreed as he got out of the tub.

He was quite fit; you wondered if like his men, he used that strength to murder and otherwise torture others. There was small doubt in your mind that was far from the truth. He caught you looking as he grabbed his towel and gave a quick smirk and you averted your eyes, disappearing inside.

At least it was a modest suit, no way to be too revealing to him. You were nervous enough as it was to even be in a suit around him.

How the hell were you going to make it through this day?

<> <> <>

Holding onto the life vest, you tried to think about anything else than the possibility Castiel might be taking you out to the middle of the lake to shoot you and weight you down to toss you in. It was the middle of the day though and there were others on the lake; it would be difficult for him to pull off such a task without anyone else noticing. Still… he was not entirely stable.

The sun glittered on the water as the boat sliced through the soft wake caused by other boats. It was quite lovely, you had to admit. The warmth of the sun on your skin was comforting and it was not too cold even with the wind. Your hair was going to be a tousled mess at the end of this, but you breathed deeply, taking in the surroundings.

You caught Castiel sneaking looks back at you adoringly as he drove, smiling at you reclining in the boat behind him. His smile was wide and dazzling, simply beside himself.

He was doing it again… making you believe this would be normal. Just like at the auditorium. The two of you, enjoying a vacation together at the lake, having a grand time. Nothing out of the ordinary. You knew that is what he wanted desperately.

There was no way to appease him on that front though. Knowing what he was capable of… what he did… you could not – would not – be able to reconcile or ever be okay with that.

All you could do was give him today and you tried to enjoy yourself.

<> <> <>

Castiel followed you up the stairs, still beaming about the time you had spent on the lake today. He had taken time in the middle of the lake to fish, you had declined. He was actually good at it, admitting that it was a hobby of his, which threw you off. It did not seem like something he would enjoy. He was a man of cleanliness and the idea of him knowing how to gut and debone a fish was strange. Yet… knowing how to maim an animal may actually be in his wheelhouse. That thought hit you quick.

Following you up the stairs, holding the fish, Castiel was chattering all about the rest of the food in the fridge that he could prepare for you for an early dinner. You agreed with him that roasted potatoes and sautéed spinach would pair lovely with the trout.

His men had brought back a change of clothes just as he said they would. A casual sun dress that you slipped into while he began prepping the food. You came back into the kitchen to find he had taken the time to slip into chino shorts and a laid back, collared white button up.

As he cooked, you asked him, “Where did you come from?”

“Whatever do you mean?”

“Like where did you grow up?”

He flashed you a quick smile over his shoulder and said, “Have I never told you?”

“No.”

“Hmm. Well, it is quite a private thing, is it not? Your childhood.”

You acknowledged, tapping your finger gently on your wine glass, “It is.”

Castiel responded, bringing spices out of the cupboard, “Well, I was born in the desert. This scenery around here is foreign to me, as is Kansas.

“Where?”

With a small chuckle, Castiel said, “Well, since you were so talkative last night, I guess it is only fair…”

You stiffened, staring at him. “What?”

“I think we are at a point where we can dive into details about these types of things,” Castiel said, ignoring your question. And you believed he did it deliberately. “Mesa, to be exact. Normal childhood. That is until my parents got murdered because my father happened to buy himself quite an extraordinary knife from a pawn shop that was… special. And these artifact collectors of special nature wanted it. I suppose simply asking for it was too tall of an order for them. The leader only noticed me in my doorway after the deed had been done. Took me to keep the murder quiet, but also because I believe he could not stomach killing a six-year-old.”

“They raised me. Taught me everything they know. You know, that typical story. And I was loyal to him… until I was not. They taught me too well. I slaughtered him and his men and took all the riches they had procured. I formed my own posse. We hunt supernatural artifacts as you know.”

“I have been unable to find anymore bone knives. That is what my parents were killed over. And I understand why, truly. It is very powerful, especially made from certain eras and more so from certain historical figures. The magic that is in them, bestowed from dark sorcerer’s is remarkable.”

He paused, seeming lost in thought. He had been expertly caring for the food as it cooked despite the deep story he had been telling.

A few moments passed before he turned, seeing you were looking at him with rapt attention. He chortled, amused, “Oh, kitten, you flatter me. You let me get carried away in my self indulgent story.”

Shrugging, you told him, “It was interesting.”

And it was. Learning about what had made him who he was. Monsters were created, you had always believed in that philosophy. And it seemed to be the case with him.

“I am sorry that you went through so much,” you told him honestly. “And especially at such a young age. I can’t even begin to imagine.”

Taking the lid off the skillet with the potatoes, Castiel adjusted them. “I made it alright. As you can see.”

“Of course,” you responded, not about to let him think any differently.

“This is about done,” Castiel announced, gesturing at the oven timer. “Would you care to dine in here or out on the deck?”

“The deck seems nice. The sun is setting.”

Castiel smiled widely, “That it is. How lovely you will look in it.”

You blushed at his compliment as he turned to go to the cupboards to look for plates.

He set up the deck table, serving everything to you, and refilling the wine. You refrained from asking if he was going to be okay to drive, wanting to find a good interjection to ask when exactly you were going to be going home again.

Clinking glasses, Castiel said, “I hope it is to your liking.”

“I am sure it will be more than satisfactory, Castiel.”

“Again, you flatter me. I will never tire of it, kitten.”

You gave him a small smile as you cut into your fish. “So, how did you say you got this place?”

“Rental,” Castiel told you. “Air bnb. You would think it would be far more… sketchy to stay in these types of places. But they are very reputable with a high rating and this is proving that correct. This is a lovely house.”

“It is.”

“How long do you have it?”

Castiel swallowed and gave you a mischievous smile. “Now, Y/N. What an underhanded way to ask me when I am going to be taking you home.”

You could not help the red that tinged your cheeks at him catching what you thought was a clever way to ask him. “Well, you know Sam and Dean are worrying. I do not have my phone and I just disappeared from the bar.”

A look of annoyance passed his face. “They always seem to know how to ruin a good time, do they not? I have it for two more days but if you wish to go back tomorrow, then I will be more than happy to take you. I have enjoyed today and would like more but it is ultimately up to you.”

A buzzing came from within his shorts and he sighed heavily. Placing his silverware down delicately, he reached into his pocket, pulling his cell out.

“It is as if their ears were ringing.” Licking his bottom lip, he eyed you across the table. To your immense shock, he reached his arm across the table. “Pardon my reach. But here. Keep it under twenty seconds. I know Samuel is smarting with tracking.”

You took the phone from him, recognizing the missed number on his phone as your own.

“They have called three times now. They are quite persistent,” Castiel told you, picking his silverware back up.

Going to stand to have privacy, Castiel said, “No. Here. Please.”

Sitting back down fully, you did as he requested.

“Where is she?” Sam demanded, answering on the first ring.

“Sam, I’m not going to talk long. I’m fine. I’m okay. I’ll be back tomorrow night.”

“Late,” Castiel said quietly from the other side of the table.

“Late tomorrow night. I promise. I will see you then.”

You hung up, keeping it under twenty seconds, despite Sam arguing on the other end. You hated to think of them worrying so much. But at least you had let them know you were okay.

Castiel held out his hand for his phone and you handed it back over, him slipping it into his pocket.

“So… any more questions? It may be the wine or my company, but I feel like being open.”

Settling back into your chair, you picked up your silverware again. You took a bite of your potatoes, chewing slowly as you thought of anything else.

~~~

CASTIEL FOREVER TAGS: @willowing-love @perseusandmedusa @greenappleeyes @afanofmanystuffs @earthtokace @shikaros-blog @marisayouass

#castiel x reader #psycho!cas #psycho!castiel #castiel fic #spn fic #supernatural fic #my shit

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ask-the-skeksis-and-mystics · 4 years

Note

Before I pass out, may I have some more ekt/ayuk hcs to wake up to

Oh of course!

- Ekt and Ayuk are both very paternal and if they notice a Gelfling with their baby, they will 100% use their authority as lords to hold the baby.

- Because so much of his work requires up close detail, Ekt is actually fairly near sighted (though his sight isn't as bad as Oks). He thinks glasses will make him look ugly, but Ayuk makes sure that he at least wears some whenever the two are alone or if Ekt is working so his eyes don't get worse.

- Ayuk always has some mouth fresheners on hand after he learned the hard way to not give Ekt any pecks and kisses after eatting spicy food.

- Ayuk does occasionally have a criticism for one of Ekts outfits or designs and he always starts the criticism off with "I love you, my perfect crawlie dumpling, but..."

- Even if Ekt absolutely hates any new foods Ayuk wants him to try, he won't spit it out (though he will not be the nicest in his criticisms if he especially hated the food)

- Ayuk has eatten so many extreme sides of the food spectrum that he can't taste most lightly seasoned foods anymore, so Ekt has helped him in categorizing every seasoning, food, and how intense they are for regular Skeksis.

- Ekt once tried going on a diet after being worried about his figure (this was in the early days of the Skeksis rule). It was one of the only times he ever made Ayuk cry.

- Ayuk was still very supportive, even though he was very insistent that Ekt was perfect no matter what.

- The two have their own private bed chambers as well as one shared one.

- Sometimes, they'll be dorks and one will sleep in their own bed chamber while the other will sneak there in the midst of the night like they did when they were young.

- (bit gross) Ayuk always makes sure that every animal that is killed before dinner is properly skinned or deboned so Ekt has fresh materials.

- He also supplies the grosser aspects of Ekts makeup.

- If it isn't a busy day, they love to go about the Castle, maybe have a picnic by the telescope or enjoy a couples massage.

- "Where's my husband?" "IM HERE, HUSBAND IS HERE, I LOVE YOU!!"

- (That is both of them, with equal intensity)

- Ayuk intentionally supplies more foods that he knows Ekt likes.

- Ekt notices every little detail about Ayuk and will sew up even the tiniest tear he notices on his outfits.

- Ayuk has nearly as much clothes as Ekt because Ekt loves making clothes for him.

- They only ever had one super big fight and neither can remember what it was for.

- When they were younger, they were always sneaky, since they didn't think their relationship was okay.

- Literally everyone knew about it, but the one time Ok brought it up to Ekt, he went on an unum long tirade about how they toooooottally weren't dating.

- It took them about 50 trine to finally come clean and everybody had to feign being shocked.

- (Ayuk also knew that everyone else knew by the 10 trine mark, but he found it fun to be sneaky with Ekt)

- Ayuk wakes up at least half an hour before Ekt just so he can admire him.

- Though both are very protective of each other, Ekt will straight up throat punch someone if he feels they disrespected Ayuk enough.

- Ekt is still trying hard to be able to carry Ayuk bridal style someday (hes getting close!)

- (and this is just for fun) Ayuk apologizing to Ekt:

#the dark crystal #skeksis ask #skekekt #skekayuk #skekekt x skekayuk #shipping ask

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etchy-a-sketchy · 4 years

Text

More late night convos with @spooky-cave-noises !!

Ghost: Who needs dignity when you have mc you tubers

Me: Ariana griande? Is not she a villain

Quest, dying in a video game: nO!!!

Me: a’ight

Quest: !!!! I gotta draw potadoc! (Potato doc)

Tries to share coping mechanism

Kills my friend

(They had pain in their lungs and I made them laugh woops)

Ghost: Hello my friend welcome to the land of the living

Bread: Don’t you mean the land of the dead?

Spelling error in the fic we’re writing: doc, “Are you a good mom Xisuma void?”

Ghost- He’s an EX-olotol

Me through tears: hE’s An EXOLOTL

Ghost- Death? Is it death you’re craving? Is this the last thing you want to see before you die?

Bread- you know your in trouble when the dead men start singing

Ghost, about my b*tch a## uncle: I’m sorry about your cruel and unusual upbringing sir. But your experiences are not a universal constant

Ghost- I quote god, not because I’m reglious, but because I’m blasphemous.

Bread- Is not blasphemy the greatest form of flattery?

Bread: my hip just popped. Like I’m just laying here what? And it just pops...

Bread:... like deboning a chicken

Ghost: ...... what?

Ghost: I need to stop being so gung-ho about killing children

Ghost: Don’t you remember what they taught us in middle school

Bread: Bold of you to assume I remember middle school

Ghost: What about high school then?

Bread: Bold of you to assume I didn’t represe all memories of high school

Ghost: raccoons don’t have kidneys

#etchy speaks #their name is ghost #late night convos #lol #DocM77 #xisuma

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theweepingmonk · 5 years

Text

struck by cupid’s arrow

Geralt says nothing as he listens to Yennefer talk about a rumor she caught wind of because Jaskier does it for him.

"So love spells are being used in some remote village. What does it matter to us?" Jaskier questions as he pulls on his doublet.

"The source of the magic is said to be a vile creature feasting on those who fall under it's spell." Yennefer tells him. "Numerous people have been reported as missing."

"Again, why is it our business?" Jaskier asks.

Yennefer takes a step towards Geralt. "I am asking for your help, Geralt."

Geralt really resents the way his defenses crumple under her gaze. "I won't hesitate to give it if only you'll explain why you want to intervene."

Yennefer hesitates a moment, then says, "An old friend of mine is among those missing. I wish to investigate, and I would have to have your bard's IQ to go alone."

Geralt exchanges a look with Jaskier who immediately frowns. "Geralt – "

"We'll help you," Geralt says, looking to Yennefer once more.

Yennefer's lips twitch with the smallest of smiles as Jaskier splutters in protest. "I can't portal us to the village itself. Whatever magic the beast uses prevents me, but I can take us to the bottom of the mountain."

Geralt nods.

Jaskier complains the entire journey, picking petty little fights with Yennefer who manages to best him with her wit every time. Geralt finds it amusing, and he has to suppress his smiles lest Jaskier pout about them later.

The village is empty when they reach it, but the sound of laughter echoes off the cobblestones and lead them to a large tavern. The building is packed wall to wall with people, most of them drunk or drinking, music wordless but loud even over the stomping of feet on tables as people dance merrily.

Geralt feels a pulse of magic come from the bar, and his gaze immediately locks onto a short, fat baby with white wings protruding from it's back that allow it to hover above a stool. Geralt frowns.

What the fuck is that?

Yennefer must've felt the pulse too because she walks over to the baby, Geralt and Jaskier scrambling after her. The baby turns to them with a smile. "How may I help you, Yennefer of Vengerberg?"

"How is it you know my name?"

"Why, because I am Cupid of course." The baby answers as if it was a perfectly acceptable answer.

"Cupid?" Jaskier questions.

"The deity of love, the bringer of fate, the matchmaker of humanity." Cupid answers.

"Matchmaker of humanity – what does that mean exactly?" Jaskier prods.

Cupid smiles. "I help people find their true love."

Geralt narrows his eyes. "With magic?"

"Yes."

"Love borne from magic isn't real." Yennefer says.

"Ah, but in most cases the magic I use simply brings out pre-existing feelings. I do not twist hearts, simply inflame the spark so bright it can no longer be ignored." Cupid says.

"In most cases?" Jaskier prods.

"My bow harnesses my magic and if a mortal were to use it, they could inflict false love on whoever the arrow struck."

"Does that happen oft – "

Geralt steps forward, interrupting Jaskier with his own question. "What have you done to this village?"

"I simply brought out the love in their hearts."

"And the missing people?" Jaskier asks.

Cupid frowns. "I've been here a month and every day eighty people come. The number has not changed."

Jaskier scoffs. "Excuse us if we don't believe the fat baby claiming to be some kind of love deity."

Cupid glares at him. "I am not a baby, I am a cherub!"

"Yennefer's friend is among the missing," Geralt interjects before Jaskier can continue insulting the deity. The sooner they got to the bottom of this the better.

Cupid tilts his head curiously. "I sense only one tether of love to Yennefer here, and it is tied to you, Geralt of Rivia."

"Tether of love?" Jaskier repeats.

"Humans have tethers to each other's souls when they form bonds – romantic or other. I can see these tethers. You, for example, Jaskier have one firmly tied to Geralt."

Jaskier pales when Geralt looks to him, hope and curiosity flaring in his chest. "Firmly is such a...strong word."

Yennefer clears her throat suddenly, drawing their attention as she turns to face them. "Could you give us a moment?"

Jaskier narrows his eyes. "You want to speak to the fat love baby alone?"

"I am a Cherub!" Cupid protests while Geralt frowns in confusion.

"I knew you had an ulterior motive for coming here!" Jaskier exclaims before grabbing onto Geralt's arm. "This witch always has an agenda and I wish you'd stop blindly trusting her. It only leads to trouble, Geralt."

Geralt stares into Yennefer's violet eyes a moment, then he nods, and walks away, dragging Jaskier with him. He plants him and Jaskier at the end of the bar. Whatever Yen had really come here for, Geralt would give her the opportunity to find it. She had sought him out, and that was enough to show how she trusted him. The least he could do was prove she was right to.

"What do you suppose she's up to?" Jaskier questions, his eyes locked on Yennefer and Cupid.

Geralt doesn't respond, busy watching the echange himself.

Jaskier starts chatting up the barmaid who plies them both with alcohol that Geralt will likely have to pay for. He doesn't mind though. At this point in their friendship Geralt was used to it, knowing Jaskier liked the feeling of being cared for, and it wasn't like Jaskier never paid for anything, especially after a long stint at court.

Geralt frowns when Cupid touches Yennefer's stomach, and he feels a pulse of magic. Cupid gives her an apologetic smile, and Yennefer sags with disappointment. Cupid wanders off to join in on the merriment around him, and Yennefer joins them after a moment.

"Want to tell me why you lied?" Geralt tries.

Yennefer takes his half-empty mug, "Not particularly," she says before chugging it.

They stay an hour to drink – Jaskier managing to insult Cupid so much so that he leaves the village well before they do – and then portal away to one of Geralt's favorite fishing spots. Yennefer sets up their camp in a clearing nearby – her way of saying thank you, he guesses – while Geralt fishes and Jaskier lists out his many complaints about Yennefer and her wickedness.

Geralt makes Jaskier carry the fish back, and the oddest thing happens when Yennefer glances over at them – Jaskier lets out a sharp breath and grabs onto him as if he was in desperate need of support and doesn't let go until Geralt takes the fish for deboning. It's as he's started on the fish that he finds out why.

"Um, Geralt," Jaskier says. "I think I may have been struck by Cupid's arrow."

Geralt huffs, and rolls his eyes. "Is this your way of saying the bar wench is your new muse?"

Jaskier's hand grips onto his shoulder tightly. "It's more of a safety precaution so you won't punch me in the face when I tell you just how lovely Yennefer looks today."

Geralt frowns, eyes snapping to Jaskier only to find him staring off in Yennfer's direction, a fondness in his eyes that he would definitely never hold for the witch.

"Her hairs looks so soft," Jaskier tells him. "Is it soft Geralt?"

Geralt's frown deepens. "Fuck," he says softly, but with a lot of feeling.

Yennefer laughs and laughs when Geralt tells her, finding the entire situation to be amusing.

"I need your help, Yen," Geralt says.

"And why should I help the fool clean up his mess?" Yennefer asks.

"Because I am asking, because I don't know how, because we came to help you and now Jaskier needs you to return the favor. Pick a reason, and do it...Please."

Yennefer eyes him, a curious glint in her eyes.

"Oh, Yennefer!" Jaskier calls, drawing their attention to him. He's got a flower of some kind in his teeth, and his lute in hand. "I think I have written a song that will perfectly illustrate your beauty to the masses."

Jaskier barely opens his mouth before Yennefer does some spell to knock him out.

Geralt shoots her a curious look.

"I will track down Cupid, but if he sings one word to me I will kill him myself, Geralt." Yennefer tells him seriously, all amusement apparently gone.

Geralt nods, and she portals away. He wonders if Cupid had actually prevented her from portaling or if she had lied to spend more time with him. He shakes his head. What a foolish thought.

He goes over to check on Jaskier, finding him snoring peacefully in the dirt. He huffs, and pulls Jaskier closer to the fire.

Geralt was starting to think that if there was ever a way for something to go wrong it was sure as shit to happen if Jaskier was around. The bard seemed to have an unnatural proclivity to misfortune.

The bard wakes an hour later, pouting like a lovesick puppy when Geralt tells him Yennefer left to find Cupid. It's disturbing, but not quite as disturbing as the song Jaskier tries to write about the whole situation.

Geralt nearly punches him, but the thought of hurting Jaskier, even one yearning after the same woman as him, is sickening. Despite his best efforts, Jaskier had become his best friend, and all he wanted was to protect him.

"How does her skin feel, Geralt? From what I've seen I imagine it to be like warm velvet. And what does she smell like?"

Geralt twitches, putting all of his effort into not knocking Jaskier out again.

"Geralt?"

Geralt doesn't acknowledge him, choosing instead to eat the fish he cooked while Jaskier was unconscious. This serves only to make Jaskier move in front of him, knees digging into the soft dirt, hands settling on Geralt's knees as he crowds into his space.

"Geralt please, I need your help to write this." Jaskier pleas, eyes big, mouth set in an adorable pout.

Geralt huffs, even as he feels himself starting to soften. Jaskier's eyes really were the most alluring shade of blue. "You need to eat."

"But how I can I eat when my love is gone?"

"You don't love her. You're just under cupid's spell," Geralt reminds him.

Jaskier shakes his head stubbornly. "It's more than that! My heart aches in her absence, my stomach shrinks, my day feels colder, my co – "

Geralt clamps his hand over Jaskier's mouth. "I don't want to hear it."

Jaskier stares into his eyes, brow furrowed, but then he seems to come to some sort of realization and he gently pries Geralt's hand off his mouth, holding it captive between his own. He strokes Geralt's hand gently, unaware of the warmth it stirs in the witcher.

"I've been a heartless fool, haven't I?" Jaskier mutters. "Of course you don't want to answer my questions. You love Yennefer too, and here I am carelessly declaring my love in the face of yours. I am truly sorry Geralt."

Geralt's gaze fixes on their hands. Jaskier wasn't wholly accurate in his assumptions, but if it got him to shut up without Geralt having to reveal anything else, he would gladly play along. "It's fine, Jaskier, but for my sani – I mean my sake will you refrain from composing your lyrics out loud?"

Jaskier smiles. "Of course. It's the least I could do."

And so Jaskier remained mostly quietly, occasionally humming, while Geralt waited, quite impatiently for Yennefer to return.

"We're fucked," Yennefer says once she's finally portaled in.

"My love!" Jaskier exclaims excitedly, jumping to his feet. He goes to take her arm, and gently lead her to the log Geralt sits on.

Yennefer frowns, then looks to Geralt, ignoring Jaskier fiddling with her hair. "I found Cupid."

"Of course you did, my love, because you are brilliant." Jaskier says.

Yennefer eyes him warily.

"What did he say?" Geralt questions.

Yennefer slaps Jaskier's hands away, before answering. "He explained that he lost his bow while rushing away from this idiot."

"An idiot in love," Jaskier says, trying to reach for her again.

Yennefer rolls her eyes and smacks his hand away.

"Did he tell you how to fix this?" Geralt asks.

"He said true love's kiss is the only way to dispel the magic."

Geralt stares at her, waiting for her to say she was only kidding, but she doesn't and all he can say is, "Fuck."

Jaskier tries to touch Yennefer's hair again and she pushes him into the dirt. "Who could love this screeching moron?"

"Well he is very popular at court." Geralt points out.

"Love and lust are not the same thing."

"But they are often interwined," Jaskier says, sitting up and brushing the dirt off himself. He quickly interjects himself in between Geralt and Yennefer. "But no, I don't think any of my muses hold any true love for me."

"Are there any loopholes you can think of, Yen?" Geralt asks, ignoring the prickle of jealousy at the tender way Jaskier is gazing at her.

Yennefer appears to think a moment, then says, "You could try kissing him."

Geralt's heart skips. "Me?"

"Cupid said he had a firm tether to you and true love can also be found in friendship." She has that same curious glint in her eyes from earlier.

"I am not kissing him!" Jaskier protests, jumping to his feet.

"Why not? He's very skilled at it." Yennefer says, making Jaskier frown, an echo of his usual thinly veiled annoyance at her presence set in his features.

"It's not him I wish to kiss tonight."

"Only tonight?" She questions, and Jaskier struggles to speak, face turning pink. Yennefer looks at Geralt expectantly and he supposes he doesn't have much of a choice.

Geralt grunts, then stands up and grabs Jaskier's face, pulling him into a rough kiss. There's a pulse of magic between their lips, and then Jaskier's hand tangles in Geralt's hair, holding him in place as he kisses back.

Geralt makes a soft noise of surprise, but he doesn't make to move away, relishing in the way Jaskier's mouth fits perfectly against his.

Yennefer clears her throat after a moment, and Geralt breaks the kiss reluctantly, pulling back to meet Jaskier's gaze. He looks almost dazed.

"Still in love with Yennefer?" Geralt asks.

Jaskier frowns. "What fool, besides you, would love that creepy witch?"

Geralt huffs in amusement, and looks to Yennefer.

"If that's all, I will be on my way," She tells him, her expression closed to him now.

Geralt nods, aware of Jaskier's fingers gently pulling his hair. "Thank you, Yen."

Yennefer nods, and opens a portal.

"If you ever need my assistance again, don't hesitate to ask." Geralt tells her.

Yennefer glances at him, then says. "Perhaps next time we won't bring the damsel in distress."

Geralt chuckles and she leaves. He barely moves before Jaskier's kissing him again – sweet and firm. He allows himself to return it briefly before pulling away. "The spell is broken, Jaskier," He reminds.

"Can we really be certain of that?" Jaskier questions. "In fact, I think I feel a desire to finish my ballad of how beautiful Yennefer's lavender eyes are prickling under my skin. Maybe we should keep kissing just to be safe."

Geralt's lips tug briefly into a small smile, amusement washing over him. "Jaskier."

"Geralt." Jaskier says, crowding into his space. "By the way you've chosen to keep kissing me instead of pushing me into the dirt I doubt your true love is rooted solely in friendship. Just as I doubt that you don't wish to kiss me again."

"You've always been presumptuous," Geralt tells him, his hand fisting the front of Jaskier's shirt, readied to push or pull the bard.

"And you've never minded as much as you pretend."

Geralt grunts, eyes flicking briefly to Jaskier's soft lips. "Perhaps not. Or perhaps I simply thought a brazen fool like you was safer irking me than someone else."

He kisses Jaskier before he can even open his mouth, feeling protests die against his lips, and hands settle on his hips to pull him in closer. Maybe not all of Jaskier's misfortunes were so terrible after all.

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#the witcher #geraskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #geralt x jaskier #i wrote this for valentines but i figured it wouldnt hurt to promote it/post it here now

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