#and I feel like it's probably not good to simmer yourself in that soup for too long | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fourmoony · 2 months

Note

hey, you could do something with reader telling james (or poly!marauders) that you're pregnant. reader was tense and hesitant about what his reaction would be, as she thought he wouldn't like the idea

thanks for requesting!

f!reader 1k cw: pregnancy

James has his head almost inside the pot of soup on the stove, poking and prodding at it with a wooden spoon as though it may bite him, when you cross through the arched entryway of the kitchen. He turns his head over his shoulder when he hears your socked feet padding across the tiled flooring, glasses fogged up and his smile bright.

"I don't think I did it right." He tells you, forbearing a greeting all together.

His brows hook in the middle when he turns back to the pot, lips pouted just a little. You peek over his shoulder to find a simmering pot of vegetable water and find yourself biting back a smile. Sweet James, your loving and doting boyfriend, always up for a challenge. You don't have the heart to tell him there's entirely too much water and not nearly enough stock in the pot, so you rub his shoulder encouragingly, place a kiss to it, after. "Looks lovely, handsome."

It pulls a warm smile out of your boyfriend, who seems more encouraged by your words than you think he should be. He's so trusting, so loving, leads with his heart and his soul, and nothing else. He puts too much faith in you.

"Remus' never looks like this, but I s'pose thats because he does it in the slow cooker." James placates himself with a shrug, eyes back on the steaming pot.

You hum a mild agreement, pulling yourself up onto the worktop so you're facing James. He likes the company whenever he's cooking. You like the domesticity, the routine, spending time with him whilst completing a task, talking about your day, your friends. It's nice, to be so comfortable with the person you love.

"Did you write down the instructions as he was giving you them? Or are you going from memory?" You ask James apprehensively.

He doesn't reply at first, too occupied with throwing a load of raw potatoes into the pot. They drop to the bottom of the pot with a sickening thud, water splashing over the sides. James winces as a droplet catches the side of his arm and turns to you with a weary look, "From memory. He was going too fast and the landline was crackly."

There's no saving the soup now, so you allow James to continue his ministrations. You'll pretend it's even better than Remus'. Anything for James. Anything to see him smile.

"He said he hopes you're feeling better soon, by the way. Sirius, too." James adds, face dangerously close to the open flame of the gas cooker as he adjusts the heat.

You blanch. You'd mentioned feeling poorly to James yesterday morning, a little tired, a little sick, stiff, the normal beginnings of a cold. The soup makes sense, now. "You asked Remus for his soup recipe because I mentioned feeling a little poorly once?"

James nods, shrugs like it's no big deal.

You've never felt this kind of love before, the kind of care and consideration James has.

"Jamie, I'm not poorly." Your voice is a little unsteady.

You'd wanted to wait, tell him when you'd figured out how you felt about it yourself. Wanted to be sure whether this was something you wanted, something James would want. You know he's a good man, a good person with a massive heart, but you've not been together for as long as you'd have liked, you're not married, there's a list of things that could make James run for the hills and you wouldn't blame him.

But you know him. You know James Potter. He's never ran from anything.

"Well it's too late for that, I've already made the ruddy soup, now." James teases, poking the pudge of your thigh with the tip of the wooden spoon.

"James," You try to garner his full attention, away from the burning vegetable water, "I wasn't poorly."

He frowns, probably trying to pin together the phrase with the way you're acting and comes up with nothing, so he says nothing.

"I'm pregnant."

James doesn't say anything for a minute. You can't read him. Eyes wide, jaw slack, eyebrows lost in the messy tuft of his fringe. Just when you think the silence might choke you, the fire alarm sounds, loud and abrasive. It kick starts your boyfriend's brain and he grabs the nearest tea towel, motioning for you to stay put, and wafts the smoke away from the detector.

After, in the silence that follows, he leans over the kitchen sink and opens the window, turns off the stove.

"When did you find out?" He asks, voice unwaveringly calm.

Your heart slams against your rib cage, scared and begging you to run, "This morning."

James nods, "How do you feel?"

"Nauseous. Confused. Scared."

James softens, crosses the distance between you. His hands are soft on your face when he slots between your legs, eyes swimming with emotion. He smells faintly like OXO stock cubes and his normal cologne as he rests his forehead against yours and heaves a deep breath. "You wanna do this?"

"Only if you do." You answer truthfully.

"I love you, you know that?" His voice comes out hoarse, and you realise he's holding back tears.

Tears spring to your eyes, too, when you nod, "I know."

"There's no one else I'd rather do it with."

Relief washes over you like a bucket of cold water, bringing the air back to your lungs, life back to your heart. You're laughing into the kiss that James presses to your lips, giddy and excited. He presses two gentle pecks there, after, and one to your forehead.

"Holy shit I'm gonna be a Dad." He sounds awed, in disbelief.

You laugh, "Yeah. You are."

"And you're gonna be a Mum."

"That's generally how it works, babe." You say placatingly, thumbs swiping over his rounded cheeks, holding his face in place. His smile is like the sun, bright and blinding. You feel warm all over just looking at it.

"I need to phone Sirius." James announces, turning on his heel to make for the landline.

You shouldn't be surprised, not when Sirius is an extension of your boyfriend's being. So, you simply wait until you can hear James ramming his fingers against the telephone, and dump a couple more stock cubes into the soup.

He can thank you later.

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bbunisre · 5 months

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04: FAMOUS HANGOVER SOUP (0.7K)

“Hey, Megumi,”

You're at the doorstep, confused at the lack of background noise in the house. It's quiet. Gojo must be at work this time around.

“Hi.”

Megumi hasn’t changed out of his pyjamas, the plaid pattern a perpetual favourite of his in sleepwear. You got him those pyjamas along with a book last Christmas, a book he randomly spoke about wanting to read once and never again. It probably meant a lot to him because the book is displayed on his shelf like a treasured artefact.

“Tsumiki’s asleep?”

“Yeah, she is.” he replies, “Can we be quick?”

“I’ll be in and out before you know it,” you tell him, patting his shoulder as you let yourself in.

The two of you beeline into the kitchen and you dump out the things you brought over to make Megumi the perfect hangover soup as well as some ibuprofen to help with that headache.

“Have you been throwing up?” you ask, handing him the ibuprofen.

“No but I feel like throwing up,” he replies, slipping onto the bench top stool, "I've been nauseous all morning."

"Have that, I’m gonna make you soup. When it starts simmering, I’ll leave and you can have it.”

“Okay…you won’t tell Tsumiki, right? About me drinking?”

Tsumiki is almost too protective of Megumi and vice versa so when you’re sitting there playing a battle in your head of whether you want to betray your best friend and keep Megumi’s secret or lie to Megumi and tell Tsumiki the truth in private and risk Megumi never telling you anything in confidentiality, you choose the former.

It's the safer option.

Right.

You have to ask him about it--whatever happened last night.

With the way he’s acting right now, he looks like he has no memory of it but you’ll ask anyway.

As you’re making the soup, Megumi sits silently watching you.

You consider what Toge told you earlier.

That Megumi has a crush on you and how he apparently acted during your messy breakup with Choso.

A second later and you’re already grossed out. That’s your best friend’s younger brother, you grew up alongside him and you were by him during the devious puberty phase and you still are as he’s coming to the end of his puberty. You respect Tsumiki too much to have romantic relations with her brother.

She’s your best friend for goodness sake.

She was there during the agonising tidewaves that Choso brought down on you and then, you’d want to go for Megumi?

You couldn’t do that to her.

But you had to ask what happened last night. You couldn’t leave without knowing if Megumi remembered and what were his reasons for his actions.

You turn, wiping your freshly washed hands on a nearby cloth, “Soup’s simmering, I’ll go now.”

“Thanks a lot, Y/N.” Megumi answers, stranding from his seat, ready to see you out.

“Don’t sweat it.” you nod, “Before I go though, I want to ask, do you remember anything that happened last night?”

Megumi’s quiet for a second and then, he shakes his head, “No, I don’t remember anything. I just remember that you let me lay down in Panda’s room until the party was over. But before that…“

Slowly, Megumi’s eyes widen.

He stops. Completely.

“What are you doing here, Y/N?” Tsumiki walks into the kitchen.

Megumi and you look at each other.

“Uh…”

“Um…”

Tsumiki looks between the two of you suspiciously, “What’s going on?”

Throat dry and without excuse, you stand there.

Megumi speaks up, “I accidentally drank last night. I called her over to help because you were sleeping.”

“You what?!”

“It was an accident!” Megumi excuses, “I thought it was a mocktail, not a cocktail.”

Tsumiki shakes her head, putting her hands on her hips, “Unbelievable,” she looks at you, that older sister glare you know not to mess with, “Were you going to tell me about this?”

“Duh,” you lie with such ease, “You were sleeping though. Didn’t wanna disturb you.”

She rolls her eyes, “Is that your famous hangover soup, bitch?”

“Yeah. Have some. I’m off, gotta catch up on some sleep,” you tell her, hugging her before getting all your stuff, “Tell Gojo I said hi for me.”

You dare blink at Megumi again, seeing his face flush with pink.

He knows.

And he knows you know.

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#jjk crack #jjk x reader #jjk smau #jjk smut #jjk fluff #jjk x y/n #jjk x you #jjk reactions #jujutsu kaisen smau #megumi x reader #megumi fushiguro #megumi fushiguro fluff #megumi fluff #megumi smau #megumi fushigure smau

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sonder-paradise · 2 years

Text

𝐓𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐘𝐨𝐮 — 𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧 𝐈𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐜𝐭

◊ ft. diluc, thoma, kazuha, childe, gn!reader

◊ genre. fluff, sickness comfort

— 𝐃𝐢𝐥𝐮𝐜 rushes back home instantly upon hearing about your sickness. He brings your favorite warm foods and brushes back your hair when you rest. He makes sure the maids are aware of your status and asks Adelinde for updates whenever he can’t be at your side.

“Are you feeling a little better?” he asks quietly. Night pours into the room and shadows dance against the creamy shade of the fire-painted walls. You cough, the soreness of your throat causing you to gag. You can feel Diluc’s eyes on you; his eyebrows creased with concern.

“A little. It’s better than yesterday,” you finally choke out. Diluc strokes your knuckles soothingly, beckoning you back to sleep. “That’s good. I’ll have the maids bring up more honey lemon tea for you tomorrow morning. For now, sleep tight, my Darling.”

— 𝐓𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐚 likely knows when you got sick even better than you did. He notices the second you complain about a light headache. He does everything right: makes you warm soups, hydrates you often, brings you medicine and keeps your body warm. You’re fond of the way he whips up another coat for the strays nearby whilst sitting by your side.

“Do you think Suki would look better in yellow or blue?” he ponders aloud, examining the fabrics. You point at the favored color, unable to speak due to the cough flowing out of your lungs at the moment. Thoma smiles at your decision and gets to work.

He glances at the time before setting his things aside and grab the syrupy medicine on your bedside. “Time for medicine again.” You shake your head, already tasting the artificial flavor of berry on your tongue. “Thoma, I’m fine, please,” you rasp out. But don’t count on him listening when it comes to your health.

— 𝐊𝐚𝐳𝐮𝐡𝐚 soaks towels and sits by your bedside while watching over you. He would be lying if he said he wasn’t worried about your health but he passes his worries off when you give him a smile. He hums softly to help you sleep when the coughing is just a little too intense and he rubs your back gently when you just can’t seem to stop.

“Kazuha…?” The young man perks up instantly, smiling softly upon hearing your voice has gotten a tad better. “Yes, Love?” You sit up slowly, mulling over your symptoms before deciding what you need. “Could you get me some water, please?” Kazuha’s already preparing the warm water for you and all the while feeling you wrap your arms around his waist tiredly.

“Are you still feeling ill?” he asks, pouring the water into a warm, steamy mug. You nod against his back and he reluctantly peels away from you to hand you the drink. You frown at the loss of contact but sip tentatively regardless. “Just a little. I would be a lot better if you lay down with me for a bit,” you said with a cheeky grin. Who is Kazuha to deny you your needs?

— 𝐂𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐞 is used to caring for the sick. When his younger siblings get sick and his parents are busy, he’s the one that cares for them. He finds it calming to care for you and he admits it gives him an excuse to see you because once he finds out you’re sick he’s not leaving your side at all.

“What do you usually take when your sick?” you ask in a hoarse tone. He squeezes the water out of the towel, pondering your inquiry. “My mom would make me my favorite food and I would have to take this disgusting medicine that tasted like old licorice and sardines.” Childe scrunches up his face and makes an expression upon recollection and you smile fondly at him.

“And what are you going to give me?” you ask, closing your eyes for a brief moment while he lay the towel on your forehead. The heat engulfing your body seems to simmer down and you breathe out in relief. Childe chuckles, “Well, if I get lucky and find it, maybe I’ll give you the same thing. It will probably teach you a lesson in not taking care of yourself, Sweetheart.”

Taglist: @xo-cuteplosion-xo @planetxiao @nonsense-corner @ireallylikehamsters @eccedentesiast-sapphic @rebeccka @the-lost-anime-dad @lettucecabbage-kun @irethepotato @kageyama-i-want-tobiors @ajaxstar @plinkuro @shizunxie @kiraisastay @lilia-sspouse @straymoon96 @coquettemaiden @lweird @ash-astrophel @uchihaeirin @lemontum @willburzone @rocambolescomargot @aestellia

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gay4abby · 3 months

Note

sick jordan with prompt 16 and 19?

here u go! better late than never amirite! not proofread! feedback appreciated but not obligated

16. “if you don’t take care of yourself, then i will.” & 19. “id choose you over ____ any day.” from here!

If there’s one thing Jordan hates, it’s being sick. The fact that you had no control over how your immune system reacted to certain bacteria was something that irritated the Supe to no end. It was even worse knowing that you knew and immediately dropped everything you were doing to tend to Jordan’s sickly needs.

“I don’t need your help, I’m fine! See?” And it was Jordan standing in front of you with the baggiest sweatsuit, nose running and red, cheeks inflamed and body temperature on 127 (normal human body temp usually goes up to 105.8, but Jordan’s a Supe! Their body chemistry is different).

You looked at him with an incredulous expression, arms filled to the brim with bags of medicine, different varieties of soup, heating pads, ice packs, you fucking name it. Jordan was not leaving this dorm until they feel better.

“Yeah, that pile of tissues say otherwise. Move over! I’m coming in!” The sickly Supe stood no chance against you, especially since you range higher in strength against them. It was the one advantage you had over Jordan and you made it known whenever you could. Not to rub it in their face, but in a teasing way. And Jordan never took any offence to it since he ranks higher than you.

You quickly got to work, using the hot plate you stashed in their dorm to whip up some soup. While that was simmering, you shoved the Supe on to their bed with ease as he snuggled into the covers. Jordan was never opposed to you taking care of him, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t make a fuss about it. “I’m very much capable of handling things on my own while sick,” he retorted, arms over the duvet like he was in a grave.

As adorable as he looked, you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at his statement and stubbornness. “You were barely hanging on before I got here. If you don’t take care of yourself, then I will!” You threw back, bringing the neck of his shirt down to lather Vicks on his chest. He protested, but immediately went quiet as you shot him a deathly glare.

The soup was nearly done so you decided to pour it into a bowl, courtesy of Jordan’s late night snacking. “You know I hate soup.”

“Yes, but it’s literally the only thing that will help right now. Sit up!”

Jordan didn’t like to be bossed around, but he did however like being babied so it was only fair that he obediently sat up with his hands at the ready for the soup.

He happily dove into the liquid meal, humming at the taste and how warm it was. It lit up his insides with fire, spreading throughout his entire body as though it was ridding him of his illness. You stood there watching with a “boy, I done told you it was good” expression which he completely ignored.

“You’re so lucky you’re cute and that I’m in love with you because none of this would be happening and you’d probably have to rely on fucking…Andre if anything.”

“I’d choose you over Andre any day. Besides he doesn’t know how cook, I’d die of starvation.” You couldn’t help but giggle at his comment, his stuffy nose making him sound nasally. You began reaching for the medicine that you were going to force him to take even if he didn’t want to.

“Open wide!”

“Fuck, no! Get that shit away from me!”

#jordan li x gn!reader #jordan li x y/n #jordan li x you #jordan li x reader #gen v jordan #jordan li #‹𝟥 requests

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star-girl69 · 1 year

Text

My Heart Never Knows

Jake Sully x Neytiri x Fem!Reader

—-

a/n: hello everyone and welcome to my new series!! some of you might know me from my hotd writings, and some of you might not know me at all. i am so excited to give you this new series- jake sully x neytiri x fem!reader!! i’ve had this idea rolling around for a while, and i finally decided there isn’t enough of this pairing so i decided to write my own. thank you so much for reading and i hope you all enjoy!! (not beta read)

also- please send me a private message, a comment, or an ask if you would like to be added to the taglist!

warnings: none, but tell me if i missed anything!!

Chapter One - Under My Ribs

—-

When the Sky People come, you are not scared.

They have come before, and now they have come again. Ronal hisses they are a sore that keep recurring, something no herbs can fix. Tonowari soothes the clan- saying that it is not the Metkayina’s war. It is over the sea, he says, in the forest. We are reef people, not forest people.

The village is assuaged and life continues as it did before.

But with each wave, each whisper of wind, you can feel something changing. It has been a year since they came again- and you know it is happening.

You are not the Tsahìk, not like your sister. Ronal is the most talented Tsahìk you have ever known. She is in tune with the water, with Eywa. There is this air about her, this wisp of something. Like she knows more than you, and will not deign to tell you.

As her sister, you are awarded more of her kind smiles than most. Ao’nung even jokes that she loves you more than her own children. You know that isn’t true, but you humor him anyways.

Ronal is the sun, and you are the moon in her shadow.

It is hard, to simply be the “other.” To crave the light so much it aches in your ribs, but to be denied it time and time again by your own blood. She does not mean it, this you know, and it is not her fault. She probably thinks you content in the shadow, content to be the moon.

But you want to be wanted, want to be needed. To be loved.

Tsireya and Ao’nung love you, call your their aunt, listen to you, respect you.

Even Tonowari loves you in his own way. Although it is mostly just pity, a sorrow he feels for his poor mate’s sister. Alone and unmated, childless and teetering on the edge of useless. You are not a warrior like him.

Instead, your days are filled with trailing behind Ronal, carrying her supplies, holding her tools, helping her while she cures sickness and prays to Eywa. She is a force, like that. You swim with Tsireya, race your ilu’s near the edge of the reef.

It is something deep under your ribs, near your heart but not quite, this longing, this feeling- knowing that you are meant for something more.

When the Sky People come, you are not scared.

Tonowari says you are safe in the reef, in your village. So you contend yourself to your life, live with something growing under your ribs.

When the Forest People come, you are entranced.

—-

“Y/N,” Ronal says, looking into a steaming pot. It is full of herbs and sea plants, simmering and cooling down into a soup, meant to be fed to a injured man, to help with his pain.

He snagged his arm on a rock, and he is lucky to not have died. Ronal had only looked disappointed when she saw him, before diving into her work and effectively saving him. You stood in the background, listening to her commands, handing her what she asked for.

Normally it was Tsireya who helped her, but you had persuaded Ronal to let her go into the sea today. It was a beautiful day, and there will always be other injuries. She relented, eventually, and you had smiled at Tsireya as she leapt into the water.

You watched her disappearing figure until you could not anymore.

The morning is calm, and Ronal is in a good mood this morning. The news of her baby has put her in good spirits, and you are most happy for her.

You turn you attention back to her, looking over from where you are tidying some cases of herbs on the shelf.

“Will you get me some more seaweed?” she asks, glancing at you over her shoulder.

“Of course, sister,” you murmur, and collect a handful of the green plant and give it to her.

She looks it over, taking about half and putting it into the pot.

She starts muttering to you about what she is craving for the evening meal, and you indulge in the mindless conversation.

The morning is normal. You feel something in the air, like you have been feeling so often lately, a changing. This feeling under your ribs. It aches and wanes, and Ronal knows not what it is.

The ache flares when you hear the sound of the shell being called, warning you that outsiders are approaching. It is not the war call- but you and Ronal still share a look anyways. She leaves the pot to simmer, hand brushing your arm as she leads you out of the home and onto the sandy beach.

When you come out into the sun, feel the sand under your feet, you see people crowd around something. You can just barely see the figure of ikran, steady on the ground. You gasp. Ikran- forest people- have not come to the Metkayina in years.

Then, you see them, and the feeling under your rib aches. You suck in air, and Ronal looks at you. When you shake your head, she appraises you once more. She does not believe you are fine, but there are more pressing matters.

Her expression glazes over again, inquisitive and slightly worried. Neither of you know why the forest people are here. They are fighting a war, but your people are not.

The crowd parts for you and Ronal, and she looks around at the crowd before her eyes narrow. She stands next to you, although slightly in front of you.

Regardless of anything, you are still her baby sister. And without a mate, and without your parents, it is her and Tonowari who will protect you. Your sister’s mate stands in front of these strangers now- spear pointed up, ready to stand for battle at any moment. He shoots the two of you a glance.

The two of you come to stand next to Tonowari, and you finally see them. Forest people. Familiar, although not by face. The air about them is.

It is a man, a woman, and four children. Your eyes flick down to the youngest one, a girl, you think, and she cannot look to be more than seven.

“I see you, Ronal.” The man speaks, raising his fingers to his forehead. The woman copies him. “Tsahìk of the Metkayina.”

“Why do you come to us, Jake Sully?” Tonowari asks, hand extended, and you suddenly realize who they are.

It is Toruk Macto and his wife, Neytiri. And their children stand behind them, around your niece and nephews age. Besides for the little one, of course, who stands close to her mother.

Your eyes flick up- and the ache in your ribs flares again. Neytiri is the most beautiful woman you have ever seen. Her eyes shine in the light of the sun, holding that reserved sadness behind them. You faintly wonder why, before she meets your eyes.

You watch as her mouth parts. She looks at you like she is blown away- but it must simply be surprise. You do look a bit like Ronal, and to see you stand so close to her, she just must not have known that Ronal has a sister. You dismiss any foolishness in your heart, ignoring the ache in your ribs.

Jake Sully holds his arms out. “We seek uturu.”

The clan immediately jumps into whispers, and you bite your lip.

Tonowari is a revered warrior, a wise Olo’eyktan. But this strange man, this forest person, he is Toruk Macto.

You glance at Ronal, and she looks taken aback.

“Uturu?” she asks, looking past you and towards Tonowari.

“Yeah, sanctuary for my family.” He steps forward, and you see his face fall. He is… scared, you realize.

“We… are Reef People. You are forest people.” Tonowari says, as Ronal starts to circle them. “Your skills will be nothing here.”

“We will learn your ways, right?” Jake laments, turning towards his family. He looks at them expectantly, and you see Neytiri reluctantly nod. His voice is hurried, nervous and scared. And suddenly you cannot hold your tongue.

“You look scared, Jake Sully. Did something happen? To the Omaticaya People?” He looks towards you in the same way Neytiri did, as if noticing you for the first time.

“N-no.” He says, but you are not sure you believe him.

Ronal grabs Neytiri’s tail, the little ones arm.

“Their arms are thin,” she observes. The little girl whispers for her mother, bounding away over to her father. “Their tails… are weak.” An older girl takes her tail back from Ronal. “You will be slow in the water.”

She looks down, suddenly, grabbing the girl’s arms roughly. She grips her wrists, holding her hands up for everyone to see the five fingers she possesses.

“These children… are not even true Na’vi,” she hisses.

The girl she is holding looks to Jake, calling for him.

“Yes we are!” She says suddenly, and Ronal drops her arms and walks away. She grabs one of the boys next.

“They have demon blood!” The people gathered around jump back and gasp, the whispers rising again.

“Look!” Jake calls, holding his hand up to your sister. “Look, I was born of the Sky People and now I am Na’vi, alright.” He turns back to you and Tonowari, still frantic. “We can adapt. We will adapt.”

“My husband…” Neytiri starts, face blank and apathetic, “was Toruk Macto.” She points her chin up, stepping closer to Ronal. “He lead the clans to victory… against the Sky People.”

When she looks to Tonowari, you watch as he nods. He cannot deny Jake Sully’s achievements, cannot deny what Toruk Macto has done.

“This you call victory?” Ronal asks, voice cruel. “Hiding, among strangers.” She steps forward. “It seems Eywa has turned her back on you.”

Neytiri bares her teeth and hisses, and you sister does the same. But Jake steps in just as you place a gentle hand on Ronal’s arm. She steps back, reluctantly.

“I apologize for my mate. She is-”

“Do not apologize for me,”

“-tired, we have come a long way and she is exhausted.” He gives Neytiri a small flick of his head, and Neytiri hisses and turns away.

Tonowari steps forward, placing a hand on Jake’s shoulder.

“Toruk Macto is a great warrior!” he proclaims. “All Na’vi people know his story. But we, Metkayina, are not at war.”

Your heart squeezes when Jake picks up the smallest child, cradling her to his chest.

“We cannot let you bring your war here.”

“I’ve done my war. Okay? I just wanna keep my family safe.”

Ronal and Tonowari share a look, and your eyes flick between the two of them.

“Arturu has been asked,” Neytiri says, arms wrapped around herself and chin pointed to the ground.

Ronal stares at them, mouth parted, as Tonowari turns and looks at her. You watch as they subtlety move their heads, silently speaking.

“Ronal…” you whisper, and when they turn to you, you nod.

You know Ronal values your opinion, and Tonowari does by extent. You cannot let this family be turned away, left to travel the planet hoping for someone to take them in. Finally, Ronal breathes in and nods.

Tonowari stands tall, addressing the people. He breaths in.

“Toruk Macto and his family will stay with us. Treat them as our brothers and sisters. But they do not know the sea- so they will be like babies, taking their first breath. Teach them our ways so they do not suffer the shame of being useless.”

“Thank you,” Jake breathes, and the rest of the family follows.

“Our son, Ao’nung, our daughter, Tsireya will show your children what to do.”

Ao’nung steps forward, complaints spilling from his lips, but Tonowari stops him. He sighs, and Tsireya beams. You see her eyes fixed on one of the young boys, and you smile to yourself when you notice he is looking at her as well.

“Tsireya and Y/N, my sister, will show you the village.”

You look towards Ronal, eyes wide, and she only looks at you pointedly.

“Ronal,” you hiss, but she only touches your arm and pushes you forward.

When you look forward, Jake and Neytiri’s eyes are on you.

—-

taglist:

@sully-stick-together

#jake sully x neytiri #jake sully x reader #neytiri x reader

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mysteryshoptls · 8 months

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SR Epel Felmier - Apprentice Chef Vignette

[Kitchen]

Master Chef ― Epel Version ～ Let’s Make Stew 1～

Ghost Chef: ―The dish we'll have you make today is a stew.

Epel: A stew… Whew, I'm glad it's not some fancy-sounding dish I'd never heard of before.

Epel: I've made a ton of stews and other dishes like it back home, so I think I might be able to do this!

Ghost Chef: Alright, then let's get started. First, let's cut up the ingredients.

Ghost Chef: Make sure to cut each one up evenly into bite-sized pieces. First let's tackle the potatoes.

Epel: Got it! They've already been well washed, so I'll leave the skin on.

[chop, chop, chop, chop…]

Ghost Chef: Oho, not bad. Only, these are a little too large to be considered bite-sized…

Epel: Eh!? Oh, now that you mention it, I guess the stuff in the stew we eat here in the cafeteria is a bit smaller…

Epel: We usually have super chunky fillings in the stew back home, so I just chopped it up thinking of that.

Ghost Chef: I see. Well, if we cut them in half once more, they'll be a little too small… Let's just cut the other ingredients so they match the potatoes then.

Epel: Got it. Okay, I'm gonna cut up all the rest of the potatoes.

Epel: I've finished chopping up the onions and potatoes.

Ghost Chef: Good, the onions are cut perfectly into wedges. And you've even rounded the edges of the potatoes. Well done.

Epel: Mah gran… My grandmother taught me while I was helping her prep food back home.

Ghost Chef: Your grandma really knows her stuff. Did she also teach you how to handle a knife?

Epel: Ah, well, I can use a knife probably 'cause I've practiced carving a ton, I guess?

Epel: We're a family of apple farmers back in Harveston, and there's always a ton of damaged apples in our bushels…

Epel: But if I could carve some patterns or pictures into the apples while taking out the damaged parts, they become worth something again. That's why I've worked hard to learn how to do it.

Ghost Chef: You mean you sell them? That's amazing, I'd love it if you'd show me what you can do.

Epel: Hehe, sure. If I was to choose out of these stew ingredients… These carrot slices would probably be the best choice.

[slice, slice…]

Epel: Here you go, I'm done!

Ghost Chef: Ooh, you've carved a beautiful flower design into the carrot! You really are quite skilled.

Epel: Hehe, thank you. Want me to add decorations to the rest of the carrots too!?

Ghost Chef: Eh, no you don't have to… Wow, you were just raring to go, huh!

Ghost Chef: You're making me feel a little bad for throwing these beautifully carved carrots into the soup…!!

Epel: ―Stir flour in with the sauteed ingredients… Okay, this seems mixed enough, I think?

Ghost Chef: I think so too. Next, we'll add milk, water, and consommé, and let is simmer. You'll want to stir from time to time so the flour doesn't burn.

Epel: Got it!

Ghost Chef: While it's simmering, let's go over everything we've done so far. Do you have any questions?

Epel: Yes, sir! Please tell me of any foods that'll help me grow taller or more muscular!

Ghost Chef: Eh? There's nothing that screams "eat me and grow" like that. After all, the most important thing to think about is nutritional balance.

Epel: Really!? And I took this class hoping that I'd get to learn about ingredients that'd help me get bigger…

Ghost Chef: Epel-kun, you said your motivation for taking this course was to learn how to control your nutritional intake to help shape your body, right?

Epel: Yes. I want to grow taller, and gain more muscle than I have now!

Epel: Everyone back in my village said that if I ate a lot, exercised a lot, and slept a lot, I'd grow big and strong…

Epel: And still, I never got any good results. That's why recently, I've been trying to eat even more than usual…

Epel: But my Housewarden scolded me something fierce, saying that my nutritional intake was completely off.

Epel: He also said, "figure out what you yourself need and choose the right food to eat," too...

Ghost Chef: Ah, so that's what this is about. I understand. I'll make sure to go over the perfect ingredients and nutrients that you need, Epel-kun.

Epel: Please and thank you! Ah, but wait one moment, I need to get out a notepad!!

Ghost Chef: ―And there you have it. Do you see now that the stew we're making now also has a ton of nutrients that's good for you?

Epel: Yes, thank you!

Epel: There were so many new words bein' thrown my way that my brain's overloaded… This whole nutrition thing is a lot harder than I thought…

Ghost Chef: Alright, here we go, Epel-kun, let's do the finishing touches. Put the chicken and broccoli into the pot and let it simmer for an additional 5 minutes!

Epel: Got it! I'll throw in the pre-cooked chicken and broccoli and… There we go.

Epel: Oh yeah, by the way, we're making a savory stew today, but… does the cafeteria menu ever have sweet stews?

Ghost Chef: Sweet stews?

Epel: Yeah, it's got stuff like apples and nuts in it… It might feel a little like it should be a dessert, but it's not too sweet, and it's got a great flavor.

Epel: You can eat it hot or cold, so whenever I got sick, mah gran… my grandmother would make it for me―

Epel: Or…? Maybe it's not really a thing…? Maybe gran just came up with it…

Ghost Chef: A dessert-like stew, hm. I feel like I may have come across in some small village before… I'll look it up later.

Ghost Chef: It may be interesting if we were to serve it as promo dish in the cafeteria. I'm sure it would be delicious if we used the apples from Harveston.

Epel: Hehe, and 'cause the apples from Harveston are super delicious, it'll quickly become a popular dish, no doubt.

[Kitchen]

Master Chef ― Epel Version ～ Let’s Make Stew 2～

Epel: That smells good… I think this stew came out amazing!

Ghost Chef: I agree. You did a good job cutting the vegetables and stirring the pot. All those times you helped out back home really came in handy.

Ghost Chef: Now, plate the stew and let's head out to the judging venue.

Epel: YES, SIR! ALRIGHT! AH'M GONNA WINNIT!

[Cafeteria – Judging Venue]

Riddle: A pleasant aroma is wafting out from the kitchen… It seems my food will be served soon.

Epel: Sorry to keep you waiting. This stew must have been what you ordered, Riddle-san.

Riddle: Why, hello there, Epel. You must be taking the elective this time around.

Riddle: I am still in the midst of my own studies when it comes to cooking… But as I was selected a judge for this, I shall make sure to give you my sincerest assessment.

Epel: Urgh, feels like you'd be super strict, too… Please take it easy on me…

Epel: Once more, I present to you the stew you've ordered.

Epel: It's still hot, so take care not to burn your tongue.

Riddle: On closer inspection, I see that there is a design carved into the carrots. How wonderfully intricate.

Epel: Hehe, thank you! I'm actually pretty good at carving, so.

Riddle: As for the ingredients in the stew… These seem to be a little larger than the ones normally served in the cafeteria.

Epel: Hehe, don't you think that makes it worth eating?

Riddle: Perhaps, but they do seem a little too big… These are bigger than my spoon.

Epel: Yep. I bet it'll really fill you up!

Riddle: R-Right, okay. I shall dig in, then.

[bite, chew, chew…]

Epel: …

Riddle: …Mm, delicious. I was a tad worried, since the vegetables were cut a little large, but they've been perfectly cooked through.

Epel: Thank you very much! And this stew isn't just tasty, it's also chocked full of nutrition.

Riddle: Chocked full of nutrition…? Could you elaborate further?

Epel: Sure! Uhh… One second.

Epel: Carrots are rich in Vitamin A, while potatoes are rich in Vitamin C.

Epel: The broccoli has a ton of fiber. The onion has an anti, uh… antioxidative effect? Yeah.

Epel: Chicken has a ton of protein. And the milk used for the stew has a ton of calcium!

Epel: There's a lot of other nutrients that are good for the growing body…

Epel: Uhh, so basically… Stews are the perfect dish to help you grow!

Riddle: I was a little startled because you suddenly brought out a notepad, but… Did you write down all the nutrients of all the ingredients you used for this dish there?

Epel: Yep! I can't remember things just from hearing it once, so I took notes as the Chef taught me while we were cooking.

Epel: I wanted to figure out what kind of nutrition I need for my own growth, which is why I took this course.

Epel: I was writing everything down real fast, so there's some parts I can't read, but…

Riddle: …There's no point to taking notes if you cannot read them back later.

Epel: Urgh… Yes, you're right. I'll make sure to check with the Chef again later…

Riddle: That being said, I think it's spectacular that you are attempting to further your own knowledge in order to reach your goals.

Riddle: Just as you say, it isn't only about the appearance or taste, but also the nutrients that go into it. I shall also take this moment to learn something.

Ghost Chef: We always make our dishes while thinking of that nutritional balance, so it's lovely to see Epel-kun this invested.

Epel: I-It's a little embarrassing to hear you say that, but… Thank you for your kind words!

Epel: It's much more fun to learn about nutrition through cooking rather than reading through a musty book…

Epel: I'm gonna keep on learning about nutrition and get me a super muscular body!!

Ghost Chef: I don't think you'll be able to get muscular on your diet alone, but… I'm glad to see you so motivated.

Epel: Alllright, I'm gonna work even harder! Chef, I'm looking forward to some more of your instruction!

Requested by @dida-books.

#twisted wonderland #twst #epel felmier #riddle rosehearts #twst epel #twst riddle #twst translation #twst masterchef #mention: vil

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shepherds-of-haven · 11 months

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hii! i'm a new author working on my first if, and i'm really not doing great tbh. shepards of haven is (my current hyperfixation) sosososososo good and so expansive and just generally the best thing ever and i'm aware that you've been writing this story for years and that's probably why it's so amazing but i'm not having a fun time over here and i was wondering if you have any tips for worldbuilding or if you could share like a general overview of your process? thank you so much :))

Hi there, I'm sorry to hear you're not feeling great about your project at the moment! I think my #writing advice tag could be helpful to you, since that's where I stick all the posts and answers about writing tips and worldbuilding advice from this blog, as well as my @strangevoyages blog, which is exclusively focused on my authorial career and writing-related tips and tricks, so it might be easier to parse through for advice! This post I wrote last year, in particular, could be helpful for worldbuilding, as well! (As well as this post for my general tips for beginning writers of interactive fiction!)

On top of all that, though, I think the best piece of advice I can add on for you is to be patient with yourself! As you mentioned, I've been working on Shepherds for over 20 years now: it was basically the first story I ever wrote, and I still haven't published it in a complete form yet. My first novel, We Have Always Been Here, also took about four years to complete, and in that amount of time, I burned it completely to the ground and started it over from scratch FIVE TO EIGHT TIMES before I got so sick of looking at it I just had to submit it. And I thought I would start my second novel directly after that, starting a few months after WHABH's completion in 2019. It's been four years since then and I'm still figuring out the world and characters of that second novel, to the point that I've also started and completely scrapped the story three or four times... I didn't even settle on the main cast or their names until earlier this year, so that's like 3 years where I didn't even know their names, let alone how their world worked. 🥹 And in the last four years, I've still only gotten as far as about ten chapters on this series, and my most current draft is only at four! (And I'm about to scrap some of that and start over again... 🥹)

At some point, you finally iron things out and the story details settle and actually click, and then you might be off to the races--but you've got to give yourself the time, patience, and understanding to actually get there first! I know that things can feel frustrating when it feels like you've run up against a wall or you just aren't feeling inspired, but letting things simmer for a while just allows the flavors of your story to complexify and deepen. You're creating a whole new world in your head, so give yourself a break! It takes time. Like a good soup, sometimes you have to let it sit on the stove for a bit and bubble away without poking at it impatiently and wishing it would hurry up or dumping ingredients in it to make it cook faster. In the meantime, consuming media that inspires you or that you genuinely love and enjoy--without turning it into the work and chore of "research"--might uncork or illuminate something you didn't even know was brewing. That's what I most often do when I'm feeling uninspired! I just leave everything where it is, meander away, watch or read or play something that intrigues me, and that often naturally sparks inspiration when I'm not thinking too hard about it. A watched p(l)ot never boils, so to speak!

I hope that (and my other posts linked above) help you in some way. Good luck with your writing and again, try not to be too hard on yourself! You're not alone, every writer feels this way: it's just a part of the process, but one that we can mitigate by giving ourselves time and patience. :) And thank you for the kind words about Shepherds, I'm glad you're enjoying it!

#writing advice #writing #writing tips #redirect #strange voyages #tips #advice

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tomboii · 3 months

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Potato soup for the heart pls if you have time to sit near a pot try this i promise its good even if you arent an irish peasant

i think i just fell in love with myself over the potato soup i made and i only just had a lil sip to see if anything is missing. So im sharing, if just for safekeeping Also this may seem like a lot of work but I have been doing this while simultaneously studying, so im kinda just sitting near the stove to make sure nothing boils over. But also it shouldnt since i never used more them medium heat.

1: Prepare Broth! i had about half a celery (the big round ones) and like 5 carrots (give and take 300g maybe?) as well as one onion (not a big vegetable one but a regular, white onion) and Rosemary Rosemary is my lover, she is in this with me together and without her i wouldnt be who i am as a person i have a pot of fresh rosemary in my kitchen and i will never ever live without her ever again i let the broth simmer all throughout the day yesterday and then kept it in the stove over night. The stove was off during the night tho, so like more of a cold tea approach after simmering for a couple hours prior

2: Boiling the potatos. Now you can just peel a bunch of potatos and toss them in some water. (I didnt measure or even count how many potatos i used. Just go with your heart.) And you will probably be fine. But! consider this: add a bit of salt, a teaspoon of instant broth (or some of the prepared one if you have enough) and Rosemary. I love her, still. Also i let them boil for a couple hours as well, on low heat because a) i need to mash them and the longer i boil them, the easier it is to mash them. And b) this way the potatos and the water really take in the flavour of the broth and rosemary. after the potatos are done, i took some of the water they were boiling in and got rid of the rest.

3: Mash. just mash the potatos. should be easy enough if they boiled for long enough. Once they are mashed, add the water you took off of them beforehand. Also, add in broth, so you get a pretty soupy consistency and mix it all together.

4: Soup. Technically you have soup now. I added some more chopped carrots, cause carrots and potatos are lovers and i could never seperate them. Also added some Wiener Würstchen, which you really dont need. I just always have them in my potato soup and im nothing if not a creature of Habit. You can also add more Rosemary, if you want. I didnt, for now. Also add some milk and butter. It makes the colour less grey-sludgy and more pale yellow. Also, butter is good for the heart (probably not) (it is if you love yourself tho) (if you're vegan this is the only part where you may need substitutes, margarine and oat should work fine, since its mostly for consistency and colour). Now let it simmer a bit longer, that way it thickens up a little. Also here you may taste to see if you need more salt, or smth. I added a bit of pepper but nothing else.

It is right inbetween the perfect potato soup my mom makes and lovingly prepared rosemary ovenpotatos. I think this is a love potion. If you are german and really love potatos, because you lived close to your grandma who is a little old fashion when it comes to food and makes potatos to just about everything. Honestly i would marry whoever makes me a good potatosoup without question. Extra: if youre feeling spicy, you can add currypowder, masala powder or even chili powder to it. Since its mostly potato and also already has milk (or similar) in it it can take quite a bit of spice without killing you. Believe me, i am white and have yet to die of Spicy Potato Soup.

If youre feeling under the weather or anything, just make this. Probably definetly the perfect food for Fall and Winter, but honestly i would eat it all year round. Its a hug in soup form. Which is not saying a lot since all soup is just liquid hugs. I really like soup. And rosemary.

#putting this here for later #i love potato soup if you couldnt tell #i always crave it but only now took the time to make some #there is quicker and easier ways of making it but i wanted to treat myself #also this way its not procrastination but necessary food preparation #food #recipe #soup #souplovers #also if someone actually makes this can you let me know how you like it

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bolters-and-rivets · 5 months

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Anything Soup: a simple recipe for picky eaters and those with texture aversions

This idea came about as a way to get around my own Autism-driven texture aversions, which rules out 99% of fruit and vegetables, so as to pack more nutrients into my diet. As someone who used to throw up from seeing others eat greens, I promise you that this is very enjoyable and you'll probably go back for seconds after the first bowl.

It's also a good way to use up leftovers from holiday dinners, whether it's Thanksgiving, Christmas or another important holiday in your part of the world, so it's very ADHD-friendly too.

The reason I call it "Anything Soup" is because I will put in just about anything I feel like experimenting with, in this instance I used onions, honey-glazed parsnips, hasselback potatoes, and carrots left over from Christmas dinner (so they'll already be packing flavour from being roasted), as well as some bell peppers I got with the explicit purpose of putting into the soup as an experiment. To help mask the greens and add some protein I used some frozen chicken and smoked fish, this is what I consider the base of the soup.

I'll outline the steps for what I made, but really you can use anything, just ensure you have a strong tasting base to mask anything you might have an aversion to, this is by far the most important step.

To start, get the largest cooking pot you have, failing anything else use a slow cooker or make it in multiple batches

Then fill with water and put in the frozen chicken and fish to defrost.

Whilst the frozen ingredients are defrosting prepare the fresh components, peel them and slice them small enough to be easily blended at a later stage

When the frozen ingredients have sufficiently defrosted, take them out and slice them into easily blendable chunks and add everything back to the water, now bring everything to a simmer for about an hour so the raw vegetables can cook

When everything is cooked, use whatever tool you have available to blend it all together, if you don't have one already a stick blender will be a worthwhile long term investment for further recipes like this.

This is the point where you check for flavour and add any seasoning you may desire, I found the potatoes masked every other flavour, as previous interactions without the potatoes tasted predominantly of chicken and smoked fish.

For me adding salt and black pepper sufficed for elevating the existing flavours, but feel free to add whatever seasonings you like the most, this is about finding a way to get some more nutrients for those who struggle to eat a balanced diet for any reason.

And that's it, you've just learned how to make soup. Now go serve yourself a nice hot bowl of soup with some bread to dip with, then you can portion out the rest. It'll freeze for long term storage, just be aware that because it's hand-blended you'll need to stir it thoroughly with each serving as it will settle

Reblogging is encouraged, and feel free to experiment and add the results below

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outlustings · 2 years

Note

can we appreciate the fact you quoted laird from his little emotional monologue. that killed me. oh and can i request Val x possibly injured/sick reader? they bring me joy <3

(ahahahah laird is adorable i love him. but yeah here's val with sick and injured reader and uhh yeah. mentions of vomiting and blood! nothing too graphic but still. le sicknessé. dumb dialogue. enjoy!

soft val. bdkskks val my beloved.)

SICK READER

Val makes the best stews ever and will whip up a bowl of your favourite soup whenever you catch a cold. Which is somewhat often, the mountain air does something to you. Especially in January.

Their knife skills aren't very good, so prepare to have a solid half of an onion in your bowl and Val just shrugging at it. But it's very tasty nonetheless.

Val will assume almost kind of a motherly role, they'll sit next to you in bed and make sure that you eat up everything in your bowl.

"You need to eat, my love. Please."

If you're too ill to eat, they'll make sure to comfort you and take your bowl away and tuck you into bed.

Soft, wet rags draped over your forehead and eyelids to ease soreness and migraines.

Val will tuck you in underneath mountains of animal skins and crocheted blankets and linen sheets, really anything to make you warm when you're shivering.

They will absolutely get underneath the blankets with you if that's what you want. Curling up next to Val while you're hot and shivering with about thirty pounds of blankets over you and feeling their long, gentle fingers stroke your sweaty hair - the best kind of remedy.

They really don't mind you coughing and sniffling against their chest.

"Isn't this gross?" you croak out and try to clear your throat and sniffle up another hunk of snot. You cringe at your own stuffy breathing.

Val just laughs softly.

"No, dearest. It's not gross. If you're sick..." you feel their hand move from the back of your neck up to your nose, and you follow their finger as Val boops you gently on the nose, "Then I'm sick too."

Val has mad immunity though, probably because they ate dirt as a child or something. Never gets sick.

The kind of partner to hold your hair back for you while you retch your heart out in the middle of the night, clutching the rickety bucket with clammy hands.

"There goes my soup," you hear Val mutter behind you tiredly. You can hear the grin in their voice. You shoot a half-hearted glare behind your shoulder before turning to the bucket and yakking into it again.

"I'm sorry - I had to say it," Val hums, strokes your hair, "Want me to go empty that out?"

You ease yourself back onto the pillows.

"Yeah," you mumble, "I'm sorry, Val."

"Don't be."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry, my love. It's alright."

Puts on some slippers and runs out into the night to fetch you fresh water from a well.

Bless their heart. Best nurse in Arizona.

INJURED READER

If someone else or even something else got you injured, Val will be very mad. Will definitely cuss out anyone who was involved in your injury.

Before that, though, they need to make sure you're okay. So they simmer quietly, patch you up in grumpy, concentrated silence.

Wound care is somewhat rudimentary, especially among the Heretics. Val opens up a bottle of moonshine and something tells you you're not going to get a swig. You wince even before the liquid hits your wound.

Your shallow breathing wakes Val up from their angry daze.

"You okay?" Val murmurs as they kneel before you. You shake your head.

"That's gonna hurt like a motherfucker," you sigh, eyeing the dirt-stained bottle.

"Just breathe, alright?" Val touches your knee softly, bunches up a rag underneath where the quarter-inch deep cut splits the flesh on the mound of your knee, and you hiss, "Take one deep breath and blow everything out as I pour it. It won't be long."

You nod and inhale. You squeeze your eyes shut.

"Ready?"

You nod again. Burning pain slices through your leg as the alcohol hits your wound and you hiss and try not to writhe as blood rushes to your ears. Everything goes numb for a second.

"Shh, it's okay," Val coos, "I know it hurts, it'll go away, just a little bit more. You're doing so well."

You shake your head, tears stinging your eyes as you feel Val pat the area with a rag.

"Fucking Christ, Jesus, fuck," you grit your teeth and breathe shallowly, opening your eyes, watching as Val wiped away the blood on your knee.

"You're doing so well."

Val wraps your knee up with gauze and safety pins the wrap so that it rests snugly on your leg. Val rises up from their knees, steps back and eyes the wound, cocking their head. Then they shake their head and bend down to the hem of their skirt.

You watch, mesmerized as those elegant, pale hands tear into the dark cloth, knuckles white as you watch and hear the fabric rip.

They take the strip of fabric from their skirt and wraps it around the gauze, securing it. You just stare.

"You really shouldn't have. Your dress is ruined."

Val shrugs. Lifts their hand up to their mouth, licks their thumb and drags it against the wound. You feel the pressure of the finger against your tender skin as they make the sign of the cross. Weirdo.

"Don't get into any more trouble, love," Val smiles.

You nod slowly.

"You're so strong," you say dumbly.

Val laughs, presses their forehead against you.

"For you. My clumsy little lamb."

"Lamb?!" you squeal, "When did I become a lamb?" you pout but Val presses a quick kiss to your lips and reaches down to grab your hands.

"Can you walk?"

"Baa," you grumble and lift your butt off the tree stump, rising up with wobbly legs. Val laughs. You can't help but grin at that sweet sound.

#outlast 2 #outlast fanfiction #outlast x reader #val #val x reader #reader insert #gender neutral reader #blood /#vomit /

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woodstockbtswriter · 2 years

Note

BTS MTL to pamper you while your sick and who's likes to be pampered while they are sick.

I’m currently sick with my second cold this month 😩, so this was comforting to think about, thank you. 💜

Pamper You While You’re Sick

Most

Jimin - The softest, sweetest mochi. A literal angel. Even if you only have the sniffles, Jimin will absolutely dote on you. He’ll send you to bed, tuck you in tight with forehead kisses, bring you tea and soup, wait on you hand and foot, and snuggle you while you rest, whispering reassurances. And don’t even think of acting like you don’t need help or Jimin will pout and scold you.

Hoseok - Not quite as lovey-dovey as Jimin, Hobi would be a little more practical in his care. Like a mother hen, he would fret and flutter about, taking your temperature, calling your doctor, making sure you take your medicine and eat and sleep. Hobi wouldn’t rest until you’re completely comfortable and he’s brought a smile to your face.

Yoongi - Will probably notice you’re getting sick before you do. Yoongi would understand and respect your need for independence, but still quietly take care of you anyway he could. You’d find the dishes washed, the laundry folded, the fridge stocked, soup simmering on the stove, and more medicine or tissues or anything like that you might need waiting for you. If you try to thank Yoongi, he’ll deny everything - but he will shyly accept a grateful hug.

Taehyung - He might not know exactly how to take care of you, but he will completely baby you. He’ll find this more vulnerable side of you adorable, so expect him to coo and fawn over you nonstop and not let you do a single thing for yourself. Is your face flushed because you’re feverish or because Tae’s over-the-top pampering is making you blush? It’ll be hard to tell.

Namjoon - Joonie would be very comforting, reassuring and encouraging you, but I don’t see him pampering you. He’ll offer to help and happily do or get anything you need (though he may get a few things wrong), but he won’t act until you’ve asked him to and won’t assume you can’t do things for yourself. Really, I see Joon more concerned about your mental health when you’re sick: I imagine him reading to you for hours on end to distract/entertain you while you recuperate.

Jin - Will probably tease and scold you for getting sick, lecturing you about taking better care of yourself - all while he’s in the kitchen cooking up all your favorite comfort foods. If you ask him to get something for you, he’ll tell you to get it yourself - as he hands it to you. He may even show up with your favorite treat, not because you’re sick or anything, no, “just because.” Basically, he will not pamper you. But he will still take really good care of you.

Jungkook - I think JK would really want to pamper you - he would do whatever he could and anything you asked - but he would feel unsure and not know where to start. Still, he’d do his best, and anything he didn’t know he’d be sure to learn (either by looking up a YouTube video or calling his hyungs). At the very least, he’d make sure you’re fed and give you lots of snuggles. <Insert shameless plug for this story I wrote about JK caring for you when you’re sick.>

Least

Likes to be Pampered When They’re Sick

Most

Taehyung - Helpless bear cub, just pamper him please. This man knows just how to tug on your heartstrings to get you to baby him. All he has to do is look at you, silently pleading with wide, innocent eyes, and you’ll do anything he asks. But you don’t mind too much, because it makes you happy to comfort him - and you know he would do the same for you.

Jimin - Everything I just said about Tae would apply to Jimin as well, but I think he would feel a little guilty about you helping him. He wouldn’t want you to burn yourself out and would constantly remind you to take care of yourself first, but at the same time he lives to be your baby and receive all your affection and devotion.

Jin - Would be an absolute drama king when he’s sick. He’d act like he’s on his deathbed every time he has the sniffles. I can see him being the type to text you every 5 minutes - while you’re in the same room - asking you to hand him the tissues that are literally right next to him or something like that. Basically, he enjoys being obnoxious - but knows when to stop and would be sure to show his gratitude.

Jungkook - JK’s definitely in the middle here. He loves attention and giving you a hard time, but he doesn’t want to give you too hard of a time. He wants to be babied and pampered and loved on, but he does not want to be a burden. I can see him continually trying to push himself to do more than he’s able to do; you’ll probably really have to force him to rest, but he’ll truly appreciate it when you do.

Yoongi - Will not ask for help, but will pout if you don’t immediately notice that he’s sick. Really, he just wants your attention and affection. He doesn’t need you to do anything for him or get him anything, he just wants some cuddles and empathy - which he won’t ask for, either. And of course he’ll act like he doesn’t love your affection, but you know he absolutely does.

Namjoon - Joonie would have an especially hard time allowing you to pamper him. He’s used to being the strong leader, and it’s hard for him to be vulnerable and rely on others. But if you took charge and insisted on caring for him, he would deeply appreciate having a little weight lifted from his shoulders and he would cherish you in return.

Hoseok - Getting Hobi to even admit he’s sick in the first place would be a challenge. Our sunshine tries so hard to always be positive and a source of hope for others that he often hides or downplays his own feelings. If you could convince him to let you take care of him - and that’s a big IF - he’d still have a hard time relaxing and leaving things to you. But he really does love and appreciate the way you care about him, and he will be sure you know how he feels about you.

Least

#bts mtl #ask response #request

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nightowlwriting · 3 years

Text

summary: fjord takes care of the mighty nein. you take care of fjord. (part 4/13 of the kindness series, a thematically connected series of c2/exu imagines)

word count: 2.7k

warnings: mentions of self-hatred, bullying, lack of self-confidence

note: idk why this one took me so long and, honestly, it was almost super nsfw lmfao

masterlist - request - support my work? - ao3

Fjord is a man who appears to know exactly what he needs and when he needs it. You’re not so sure. You tend to hang back when the group talks to people, or finds jobs for coin, just to watch. That’s what you like to do - get information, tuck it away, use it later.

It just happens that sometimes you end up watching Fjord. There’s no reason, not really. He’s the leader by default, no matter how much Nott will say that it’s Caleb. He does most of the talk, smiling all coy and leaning against things to charm the party’s way through whatever Gods forsaken situation you end up in. It mostly works, with some exceptions. There are things you begin to notice in the nights after Fjord has failed to charm someone with a well-placed wink, or a sir or a ma’am. He makes the fire just a little bit larger, stacking logs and kindling and using his flint so that Caleb doesn’t have to use his magic. He cooks heartier food, sometimes even disappearing and coming back with a skewered animal from the forest to add to the pot of simmering soup. He takes the first watch and doesn’t wake anyone until halfway through the second watch so that everyone can sleep longer, even if it makes him crabby the morning after.

You come to a conclusion. Fjord takes care of people when he feels like he’s not enough. He overcompensates in his acts of kindness when something he does fails - but why? To make you all stay? To make sure you know his worth in the group? To make up for whatever he sees as a downfall? Honestly, you’re worried it’s a little bit of all three. You’re not really sure about how the mind works - that would be more for Molly, or Caleb honestly - but growing up in an orphanage with children who pick and prod at your every physical characteristic cannot be good for a person. Especially with Fjord insisting that he doesn’t have a last name, despite the times that he introduces himself and you see it die on his lips before he can say it. There’s something there, but you won’t pry. People deserve their secrets. They deserve to keep something for themselves.

If he wants to keep his last name, that’s fine with you. If he wants to keep the self-loathing inside of him until he explodes, well, that’s not fine with you. That’s why when you realize that he decompresses by making himself useful, as if the group might dismiss him just because a few people were immune to his charms, you decide to do something. No amount of reassurance from anyone will convince him otherwise and the rest of the group tends to shrug away from his slightly overbearing kindness when something goes south. Caleb, Beau, and Molly are just uncomfortable with it while Jester is usually too engrossed in journaling, Tusk Love, or talking to the Traveler. Nott is somewhere between Caleb and Yasha (uncomfortable and straight-up not around to be doted on.) And… Well, that leaves you.

It’s not that you mind Fjord’s constant doting after he perceives something to have gone wrong, but it’s hard to let him in. Your life before the Mighty Nein wasn’t exactly peaches and cream, either, but you know that he needs this. He needs to feel like he’s doing something for someone or he’ll break. You only notice that, though, after a particularly rough, rainy day of trying to get information out of people for a job. Fjord had forgotten something important which threw off the communication and sent everyone you were working with into an angry tizzy. By the time you make it back to the tavern, everyone is soaked to the bone and cranky, even you - and you tried your best to avoid getting out in the rain. What you really want to do is go back to your room and change out of your wet clothes and then go to fucking bed, but you hold back. The group disperses one by one until it’s just you and Fjord left at the bar, and before you can make your leave you see his hands shaking. His hands, which are large and calloused and strong, are shaking like a leaf in the wind. There’s no other outward sign that he’s feeling stressed or upset, and that surprises you. It also worries you. This is not how Fjord acts when something goes wrong. He doesn’t sit at the bar and brood over an ale - he mother-hens his friends until they’re sick to death of hearing his deep, drawling voice.

The combination of these things is probably what makes you pause halfway out of your seat, eyes narrow and trained on him. He makes eye contact for a brief second before looking back down to his drink. You know that approaching and asking him if he’s okay will get you nowhere but you can’t leave him alone at the bar, not when you know he’s stewing on every mistake, every misstep, whether they really happened or he’s just overanalyzing his movements. He’s your… He’s more than a friend to you, despite the fact that he doesn’t know that and you don’t show it outwardly. Fjord means too much to you to be able to let him sit and spiral into a funnel of self-doubt. You know that it will be weird to put your pride to the side and ask for help, but you also know that you don’t really need help.

But asking Fjord for help means that he’ll feel better and you think that’s a very good reason to shelf your pride for a night.

He barely looks up at you when you approach, still dripping all over the tavern’s floors and hesitant to speak. He doesn’t speak, either, just takes another long pull from his ale to bide his time until you leave. (Probably.) You take the leap first and say his name. “Fjord.” He doesn’t look at you. “I know we’ve all had a bad day,”

“You can say that again,” He snorts.

“We have,” You stress, one hand finding the hilt of the dagger on your waist for some sort of comfort. You’re wildly uncomfortable and can feel the urge to run, get away, flee building up in your gut. If you’re not careful, it’ll spill out your mouth and you’ll be forced out of the tavern for the night in humiliation and self-preservation. “It has been one hell of a day today. I do not want to be alone.” Your sentence cuts off briskly and Fjord looks up in surprise. Your face mirrors his - untamed surprise. You had really opened your mouth to ask if he wanted to find a table and listen to your vent but what came out was I do not want to be alone. You blink and think what the fuck? Before Fjord is shaking off his surprise and standing.

“I suppose I can give Molly the room for the night.” He extends an arm towards you but doesn’t look at you. He’s doing a much better job of hiding how strange you’re acting than you are but still, you’re not going to let this opportunity pass. You wrap your own arm around Fjord’s and he begins to lead you toward the stairs. “Anything specific bothering you?”

“Nothing really,” You hum as you respond, hoping that by allowing him past your walls that it will help him, “Today is just a bad day.” Fjord halfheartedly agrees and your nerves shoot through the roof when he leaves you at your door, explaining that he’s going to warn Molly that he won’t be in the room tonight. You nod at him and slip into your own room, leaving the door cracked so that he won’t feel awkward about entering. Your laundry is everywhere and you grit your teeth, doing your best to hold back a scream. God damnit, you’re about to have the man that you have a crush on in your room and today is the day you threw your laundry all over?

It doesn’t even matter that he’s traveled with you in carts where there is no possible way to not overlap on laundry slash unmentionables. You still dash about, shoving your laundry into a pile in the corner and covering it with your weapons and shield just before Fjord raps his knuckles against the door frame, calling your name. You shiver and invite him in, wringing your hands as you stand in front of the unlit fireplace. “Are you okay?” He’s so earnest and it makes you feel… A little bad. You don’t want to say no to having Fjord be with you overnight because his presence is so calming, but it’s also… He’s not in your room because…

Ugh. “Fjord,” You say before you can stop yourself, “Okay, so, you can’t be mad but I noticed when things go wrong you’re really, really hard on yourself and you shouldn’t be. And I also noticed that when you’re hard on yourself you dive into taking care of other people because, I don’t know, maybe it feels like you’re doing something good? I’m not sure, but I really meant to ask if you wanted to talk but then that came out instead but I can’t let you stay in here if you don’t know why I asked.” He stands there, taking in what you’ve said, and then shakes his head. Your room is dark - too dark for you to see whether or not the small smile on his face is actually there or if you’re imagining it. When he chuckles, you’re more apt to believe that Fjord is actually smiling even after the day he’s had. “Um,” You finally cut the silence, “Please say something.”

“You mean to tell me,” He drawls, stepping slowly closer and removing his chest plate. It’s like his mood has gone a full 180 from where it was when he left you outside of your room, “That you looked so awkward and like a li’l kicked puppy because you wanted to help me feel better?” He sets his chest plate on the table, coming into your sight as your vision begins to adjust. You don’t get a good look at what’s happening on his face because you look away very quickly, setting your jaw.

“Well, when you put it that way,” You grumble and cross your arms, “You just like to help people - it makes you feel better.”

Fjord comes to a stop in front of you and sighs, but doesn’t say anything. Your hands begin to shake and honestly, you regret your stupid fucking decision to try and help Fjord out. You wouldn’t be here, standing in front of him and purely humiliated, if you didn’t look at him and notice so much. He finally responds, one of his hands coming up to touch at your bicep and then trails up until he’s cupping your shoulder. “I do like to help people,” He’s speaking more from his chest than his mouth, and you can almost feel the rumble through the grip he has on your shoulder. It’s not tight but it’s there, heavy and comforting. “I didn’t think anyone noticed.”

“I notice a lot,” You supply, tugging your chin away when Fjord tries to use the other hand to make you look at him. It’s only after he says your name in a soft voice that you look. You’re surprised to see that he looks soft… Soft and fond. “Please,” You whisper, uncrossing your arms to grab both of his wrists. You’re not even sure what you’re asking for but the way that you whispered please is the closest to begging that you’ve ever gotten.

“Please?” Fjord says, sounding incredibly confused but soft at the same time. You shake your head, trying again to look away from him. He ducks down, catching your eyes again, “It’s just me, remember? This is why you asked me here, isn’t it? To help you feel better?”

To your horror, you feel yourself mist up. “I invited you here so you could feel better, Fjord. I don’t want you to be so hard on yourself, and the only time I’ve seen you calm down after a bad day is when you’re taking care of one of us. I thought… Even if I don’t really need to be taken care of, that would help you. I just want… I want you to feel better.” He steps closer toward you, caging you into the rough stone of the fireplace but doesn’t speak. You’re almost worried that Fjord is going to cold clock you, but then he does something that you expected even less.

He surges forward and kisses you. Every part of him nearly engulfs you - the hand on your shoulder moves to the back of your neck, anchoring you to him, while he groans deep in the back of his throat. Your hands scramble for some purchase to express your surprise, landing on his hearty shoulders, clenching in the fabric of his shirt. You sigh into Fjord’s groan, and press as close as possible to his body heat. No matter how much you don’t want to admit it, you’ve been craving this: closeness with another person, pressing tight against their body… You’d be lying if you didn’t admit that when you thought of that, of intimacy, that you pictured Fjord. You just didn’t think he pictured you.

Fjord surges forward again, and you feel the soft scrape of tusks against you when he opens his mouth to breathe, keeping his nose pressed tightly to yours. “I didn’t think,” He says, accent thinner than you’ve heard previously, “I never dreamed that you would feel…”

“Oh, I feel,” You tell him, slowly moving your hands until you can intertwine your fingers behind his neck, “I feel so much, Fjord.”

“You never said…” He sneaks another kiss between his words, dropping his hands to squeeze at your waist, “You never even let on that you see me this way.”

“I do a lot of looking and not a lot of showing,” You remind him - it was something he had said to you when you first joined his group. I always catch you lookin’, but you never show. It’s terribly funny because he’d said it while the Mighty Nein were all naked, sudsy, and sharing a bathhouse at Molly’s insistence. The group had a field day with that and still does. The memory is apparently still fresh in Fjord’s head because a blush creeps high over his cheeks and he looks away, flustered. “You’re strong and pretty and beautiful and you take care of us so well. Even when you’ve had a bad day. I look up to you so much, but at the same time I want, perhaps selfishly, to take care of you in ways that you might not take care of the group.” He almost looks surprised at what you’ve said, but then it melts into a look of soft adoration. Fjord kisses you again and then drags his lips lightly over the arch of your cheek before he rests his head on your shoulder where he inhales deeply, his breath tickling your throat. You can feel his hands contracting against your waist, like he wants to touch and feel but is settling for keeping them where they are and feeling the soft give of your flesh. You know your heart is spinning at what feels like a million miles per hour, and you know that he can probably hear it, too. You can’t find anything in you that cares, though, because you’re so close to Fjord. He smells like saltwater, you realize. Not in a way that it seems like he’s been coughing it up again, or in the ocean, but just sort of… Naturally. Like he’s always smelled that way. Like you’ve always known he smelled that way. Like you were always meant to know and to find comfort in it. You pull yourself closer, relishing in the way that you hold each other, and Fjord sighs. You can feel the way that he relaxes underneath your hold and you relax, too.

This… This is the way that it’s supposed to be. This is how you can do for Fjord what he’s done for your team - except different. Except more.

#critical role imagine #c2 imagine #cr imagine #fjord stone imagine #fjord imagine #fjord stone x reader #fjord x reader #fjord stone / reader #fjord / reader #campaign 2 imagine #critfic

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darkhymns-fic · 2 years

Text

Easy Way Out

At Altessa's house, Zelos sets things in motion for Yuan's meeting with Lloyd. But he didn't account for someone else waking up.

He didn't think he'd have to make a choice.

Fandom: Tales of Symphonia Characters: Zelos Wilder, Colette Brunel, Lloyd Irving Rating: G Word Count: 5216 Mirror Link: AO3 Notes: Alternative title: The One Where Zelos Drugs the Entire Party and Feels a Bit Bad About It --

Zelos always avoided having dinners by himself nowadays.

It all starts with an invitation to a party, or a graceful compliment he’d drop onto a woman’s lap, which would always get him something. He needed to make such outings extravagant, make them loud, enough so that he couldn’t hear himself think! Laughter and drink, a hand on his thigh, and so what if at such dinners he barely ever ate anyway? At least during these times, he didn’t have to think about eating alone.

And always when he was young, he’d have plenty of food at the table, served up by waiters and maids, vegetables swimming in broth, or cheesecake as soft as clouds, but he would eat it alone. His mother always hid in her room during such evenings. She would refuse to come to the door.

Wallowing in one’s own misery was a trait you inherit, after all.

“Since when do you cook anyway?” Sheena had asked him. She was the only one to go over to Zelos in the kitchen, hearing the soup simmer in its clay pot. He eyes widened as he even chopped up the carrots expertly. “Did making food for that gnome really inspire you now? Or that crazy Wonder Chef?”

“Babe, you know I’ve always been an up-and-coming star in the cooking world!” He flipped the chopping knife in the air, the firelight glinting off its blade before he caught it by the handle expertly. “Ain’t my fault you’re jealous.”

Sheena glared, as she always did, as she always will whenever he acted like this. But why ruin such a good streak now? And after all, wasn’t he such a good friend to be making all this food for everyone when they worried over Colette?

Colette, collapsed in a spare room, Altessa working the materials they had gathered to stop the spread of that crystal, crawling over her skin like translucent leeches. Any more delays and it would have reached into her heart, freezing her beats in place, until she was as silent as the stones in that mine.

What a good thing he was doing, that he was providing when he helped set up the tables to the confused eyes of Raine, and the hungrier ones of Genis. The soup was filled to the brim with spices and seasonings, so the taste would be strong. But who wanted weak-tasting food anyway?

Lloyd was barely paying any attention. The guy paced and paced until he was just about to pace a hole in the ground itself. He could never just sit back and take it easy, could he? Colette would be fine, would she not? It wasn’t like her heart had stopped then and there.

“Hey bud, you’re not doing yourself any favors being all high-strung like that.” Zelos leaned against one of the dining tables, filled with so much food that he had clearly outdone himself. Not every piece of it would have the necessary ingredient of course, but why should one spread themselves thin like that? Already Genis was chowing down on a piece of loaf that he had dunked into the soup, while Presea nibbled at a carrot, picking away a few things from her spoon.

“I can’t eat at a time like this.” Lloyd’s voice was tight, and rough, and maybe if he had let himself, he’d probably cry. Anytime it came to Colette, Lloyd would always act like this. Always with Colette.

“Come onnn~ Have a potato at least. Good nutrition! And it’s good luck too. Got that from one of my hunnies.”

“Argh, shut it.” Lloyd turned away, facing the door to the room where Colette was in. It was quiet in there, as it was in here, despite some nervous munching.

“Aw, won’t even eat for your best bud, huh?” And with Lloyd, he could be a little more open, a little more daring as he hugged him from behind, and practically yelling in his ear. “Don’t starve yourself!”

“Zelos, I think that is quite enough,” spoke Regal. A thread of discontent. Huh. Mr. President really would try to upend him like that.

Something was shaking, and he couldn’t see Lloyd’s face this way, but the body he was holding felt ready to burst. Before another word, Lloyd broke out of his hold easily, stepping away. He didn’t say anything

He saw a fist clenched. Oh. Talk about a close call.

But he just didn’t like eating alone.

“You could eat a little more, hunny,” Zelos had once said, walking out to Colette who sat at a log by her lonesome. It was a rare occasion to find her without Lloyd by her side. But monsters kept straggling around their resting place for the night, and he, along with Sheena and Regal, had gone away to try and clear them out for now.

Zelos would have gone, but it had been a long and boring day of walking, and he’d always opt to stay behind in camp if at least one cute girl was present. Not like they asked me to come anyway.

“Ah, I know… I’m just a little tired.” Colette stirred the beef and mushroom stew that Genis had made for everyone, the contents just half-filling the bowl. “Oh! I can still eat though, I promise.”

Zelos raised an eyebrow before sitting easily by her side. “Hey, if you hate Genis’ cooking, you can tell me. Puts a little too much paprika in it for my tastes.”

“Oh, no no, that’s not it! I love Genis’ cooking…”

“Haha, angel, you gotta learn when I’m messing with ya.” He winked at her, face leaning into his hand as he gazed at her, noting the way the campfire shone off her hair. “But I guess you haven’t known me for that long.”

She smiled back, and though there was the urge to tell her how cute it fit her, he stayed quiet, seeing the words build up in her eyes. Did she have so much she wanted to say from when she had been a quiet doll, wings trailing behind her at all times? It was almost strange to Zelos, to now see her more animated, hiding away that curse of the Chosen within.

“It’s just…a lot.” Colette kept pushing the spoon around in her bowl, moving the vegetables through the broth like small ships. “Not the food, I mean. Just, what has happened. It’s almost too overwhelming to stay hungry.”

“Hm, is that it?” Zelos leaned back, eyes turned towards the horizon. “Or is it because Lloyd isn’t here with you right now?”

Colette didn’t answer right away, but she nearly dropped her bowl in response. Zelos quickly reached out, grabbing it from beneath to hand back to her.

“I bet you he’ll be back before you know it,” he said, bringing the bowl up to her chin. “Then you two can go back to feeding each other like you used to!~”

It was good he held it, because Colette would have dropped the bowl right after again. “Ah! That’s not…”

“What, you guys haven’t done that? Could have fooled me with the way Lloyd talked about you all the time.”

Even in Colette’s small fumbles, he saw the smile tugging at her lips. And he was right, she looked so nice when she smiled, when it came straight from her heart, unfettered by whatever worries that still tried to weigh her down.

She carefully took the bowl back, fingers steady, steadier maybe then she needed them to be. “It’s just, I’m nervous when he’s not around. Ever since we were kids. …It’s a little silly, isn’t it?”

Zelos barely knew about Lloyd, besides how loud he can be, and how dense he was about certain things too. And it was then he realized, of course Colette would be comfortable around someone like that. “Sorry, angel. Gotta settle for me in the meantime.”

It was a joke, of course. For the most part. But Colette looked at him in all seriousness. “Huh? But, I’m happy you’re here too. You’ve been ready to help us right away…and you’re also very kind. You’re a lot like Lloyd!”

…Okay, Colette must have been stuck longer in her angel state than Zelos had thought. But maybe the comment dug through him, like he had just drank some nice, warm coffee to brighten up his morning. A rarity, for someone who didn’t usually get up past noon. “You wound me, Colette! To compare me to him? As if I’d be as fashionably challenged as he is!”

“Oh, you don’t think Lloyd looks cool?”

Maybe a little bit. “No way! But do tell how you think your Lloyd is oh so cool.”

Not as nervous, because Colette is looking as radiant as Lloyd does, when he’s weirdly excited about something. But unlike Lloyd, she doesn’t look at him as if he’s got a few screws loose. “I also wanted to apologize to you.”

“Eh? What for?” Zelos shook his head. “If it’s not calling me the Great Zelos, I forgive you. I’ll let you get to witness my greatness first!”

“Ah, not that. It’s for throwing you around earlier… I’m sorry! I wouldn’t have done that if I had been myself.”

The mention of his near fatal catastrophe against the pavement nearly made Zelos fall right off the log. “You remember that?!”

She laughed then, and it was light and warm, like the campfire before them. “Yeah… and you reacted really quickly!”

“When it comes to this,” Zelos waved a hand around his face, “I have to pick my priorities. Us Chosens gotta look the part, don’t we?”

And as Colette visibly relaxed, she had unconsciously taken a sip from her spoon, eating the stew as if she hadn’t eaten in so many years.

Maybe she didn’t like eating alone, too.

It was still early evening when Zelos had finished his meal.

Altessa’s home was different from most that Zelos had ever visited, even from Lloyd’s own dwarf “dad” (and wasn’t that lucky of him? To at least get a fresh start with a parent like that?). It was built deep into the mountain, the stone manipulated to make way for walls and stairs and barristers and doorways. Zelos could even see where the floor sloped once one went in further back. Maybe Altessa had planned to cut through the mountain even deeper, down where the sun couldn’t reach, but never deep enough to escape Cruxis’ claws, that was for sure.

After all, Zelos was the proof to that.

When he finished washing his plate, having taken his own to the kitchen earlier, making sure to take certain portions and the like, he kept his ears alert in this dwarven home. On most days, it was generally quiet, Altessa not one to utilize much of his craft that had gotten him here in the first place. The water splashed underneath his fingers as he dipped the plate in the sink, hearing the talk from outside, hearing it drip slow, slow, as if their words were getting stuck, dipped into molasses, buried under a steady fall of sand.

Then quiet.

Zelos just let the plate drown in the dirty water, walking back into the dining hall. The first he saw was Tabatha, a mug of the hot tea he had brewed especially for her, cupped carefully in her hands. She was seated in a chair far to the back wall, her head slightly drooped. Her braided hair fell over her right shoulder, like a waterfall of leaves in the sunshine.

But the candelight was getting dimmer, and Zelos turned to check out the rest of the room. Genis’ head was smacked headfirst into the table, poor brat, with Raine leaning on her staff, eyes shut but mouth parted. She leaned enough for her head to slightly lay on Genis, brother and sister barely ever apart. (What a concept, not like he’d never know, not like he deserved to know). Their plates were half-eaten, probably sharing with one another, like how Mithos would say how his own sister would share her food with him.

It was stupid to think of things like that. Must be out of touch, he thought. Other familiar faces, Regal seated on the floor, cuffed hands laid over his knees; Presea also at the table, with a bowl of the tepid carrot soup in her lap, filled with a few spices he said he had gotten especially from Ozette. (Who knows? It might even be true). He couldn’t see the dwarf, but he could hear Altessa’s snoring, and how it rumbled through the walls. Zelos had been confident Tabatha would have given him some of the tea as well, the dwarf losing most of his gruffness with her.

Further in the corner, he saw Sheena, seated at her own chair, eyes shut tight, but occasionally making sounds as she dreamed, as she twitched. The bells at her wrist only sung once or twice. If Corrine had still been here, then Sheena would have been the trickiest to deceive. Maybe a well-placed hand on her back, a grin that got her bristling, leading her away from the home while everyone else was put into their own deep and peaceful slumber.

How weird to be grateful that he didn’t have to lie any more to her than he already did.

The light from the candles above was dim, ready to be snuffed out. Zelos craned his head to watch, watching as the wick moved down to nothing, the flames leaving the room and all the rest (his friends?) to be blanketed in shadow. He settled into that darkness, moving over to a sofa placed to the right side and lounged right into it, waiting.

Lloyd was in his room, having gone to sleep earlier. And so was Colette. No one awake, just himself and his own thoughts, circling in his head, over and over, settling into the dark.

Are you capable of doing this? went the thought in his head, circling, waiting, sharp eyes that echoed the same disdain that he had long grown used to, like a well-worn coat. Lloyd can’t know at all.

If he hadn’t been capable, then why would he bother? Winning side and all that. So of course he had agreed. Just trust me, he had said, and those same eyes had hardened like ice. But what else did that guy even expect?

Maybe hours pass by, or just minutes – but he hears Yuan’s grand entrance, hears the marching of armor just outside. Sound travels easier out here in this wasteland of dirt and rock and dust that lodged itself into his lungs. The nights always yawned great silence, with just the rushing of wind and insects. Masking sound was impossible, but a deep sleep, brought on by chemical agents that Meltokio’s researchers would never know were missing, helped with that particular little wrinkle anyway.

Next was Lloyd’s pounding footsteps; they were plodding, and Zelos could hear them try to be quick, as if the kid was held down by ropes. With the effect of drugs, and whatever else Yuan had done to him, he might as well be. A miracle really, even as Lloyd must have been brought awake by fear and adrenaline setting fire to his veins. Zelos was surprised Lloyd hadn’t fallen on his face after just a few steps. But then, that was usually Colette’s forte, wasn’t it?

The kid in red, still so bright even in the dark. Only Zelos’ own hair was a match, but he betted that Lloyd wouldn’t notice him at all. Not that he was exactly hiding. Even Lloyd would be able to spot him, right? That idiot seemed to find things that Zelos thought he had buried so well, as if he just done a shit job of deception.

Maybe it was like one of those unstoppable force meets an immovable object sort of deal; how blind and optimistic stupidity could unearth whatever skeletons Zelos just threw around in his closet, haphazard as they were.

Lloyd was still struggling to walk normally, finally leaving his room to enter the main area. His eyes were directed towards the front door, a panicked pace to his breathing. He looked around, looked around, saw the others asleep, back straightening just a bit at the shock of it. And he only needed to turn just a little, just a bit, if he could just look, until-

Lloyd went back to the door, opened it and rushed through. Gone away into the dark outside.

Zelos just smiled.

Muffled voices through the wood, and he could just imagine Yuan speaking in that tone, something that echoed Mithos if the so-called Renegade was ever even aware of it. But those with holier-than-thou attitudes never realized just how cookie-cutter they really were, just how interchangeable, how replaceable. Bastards like that were never in short supply.

Maybe Lloyd realized that too, but not like Zelos could say for sure. If he closed his eyes, he’d try to picture that bud of his, adamant and demanding whatever was going on. Still trying to fight away the sleep from Zelos’ food, which would keep carrying him down and down if he let it.

If Lloyd had just eaten more, had eaten that damn potato like he’d asked (I was looking out for you, you know), he’d probably still be sleeping. Yuan would have given up – or just stabbed Lloyd in the chest in aggravation. Sometimes it was hard to tell with him.

Then Zelos sat up, listening. Wait… Were those other footsteps?

He had been sure he had fed everyone, even the dwarf who looked like he hadn’t munched on anything but boulders for the last decade.

Then a voice, soft and too kind. “…Is anyone here?”

Crap, did I really forget about little miss angel?

Not the first time Zelos had been frustrated with himself, but seriously, what an oversight. The cure must have worked fast, and Colette recovering enough to not only get up from her bed, but even call out? She had collapsed so suddenly, so deeply. Had she just brushed all that aside like nothing?

From the bedroom side of the home, he heard her soft footfalls. So soft and light, she must have been using her wings to barely make any sound at all. But no, once she came into view, no span of pink and violet. The room stayed dark and muted, her hair’s color snuffed out like the candlelight.

Immediately, she turned to him. Immediately, she noticed. “Zelos?” she called. Her eyes took in so much more in a short time. “What happened? Why is everyone…”

Well, this was a problem, wasn’t it?

Zelos definitely had the opportunity to, well, not be here. But even someone like him could screw up his own screw ups. Takes talent, honestly. Colette stood alone within the dark, the bodies of her comatose friends laying on tables, the chairs, and even on the floor. The moonlight streamed out from the window, giving the shine back to her hair, but only by a bit. Still, she stood within blackness.

“Zelos?” she called to him again. He couldn’t hide from her very well apparently.

“Angelcakes! Already feeling better?” Zelos stood up, making a show of it, stretching out his legs to leap onto the floor. Tangles of red fell over his face, only to be pushed away with the palm of his hand. Performative. Expected. “But you know, cute girls like you need their sleep.”

There were times he caught a sense of unease from Colette – just a small one, a notice that runs through her eyes just slightly, like a sudden small wave that pushed through the gentle current in a river. It came from when he would dole out his little nicknames for her, or when he brushed a question of hers aside. Even in her gentleness, she knew what he really was, didn’t she? Little miss angel was a worldly person despite having grown up in the backwater countryside.

And it was there now, that ripple, disturbing the rhythm, the placidity. And she knew- “Hey, Zelos,” she said quietly, placing her hands together. “It’s okay if you need to cry, you know.”

So kind was she, to cut through his chest with her words so cruelly.

Zelos admitted he needed a moment to recover (smile back on, head raised, edging his eyes away so that one couldn’t look deep, not yet), and once he did, he just shrugged. “Gotta admit, not the kind of talk I was expecting, even from you.” He winked. “But I think I’ll pass on that suggestion.”

Colette looked back to the room, towards the dining table where food was still placed around, where fruit bowls of apples and pears stayed untouched, where the pot of broth stew stood, its contents lukewarm, where her friends rested upon the wood of the table, their snores so gentle.

“It just looked like you needed to,” she said, turning back to him. “You seemed so sad just now.”

An easy grin, to cut through the dark. “Colette, hunny, maybe… you need to know your priorities a bit more.” Even she wouldn’t just ditch away her friends like this for concern about him, right? He’s not worth that. Lloyd could tell her.

Colette walked towards him, taking careful steps, quiet steps, as if she didn’t want to wake the others? Why wouldn’t she? It didn’t make sense to him. “Sorry, maybe I don’t understand. Do you want to talk about it?” She looked again to the others, careful to avoid Regal’s outstretched legs, her natural clumsiness seeming to have disappeared. “I’m happy to listen.”

This was weird, even for Colette. Zelos blinked, then turned away. “Angel, you really can’t be this naïve.” Eyes slid back to her, just a bit. “I know you’re not.”

Colette stopped just a few feet before him. He couldn’t help his wandering eyes – nothing dirty, of course not – checking for any patch of crystal. But her hands were free of it, along with the nape of her neck. In the darkness that he knew, he could see the edges of the rune crest, implanted just over the necklace Lloyd had made for her.

“I’ve been asleep for a while… It’s possible I just missed something. Also…” Another careful glance around the room. One of Presea’s ponytails nearly drooping into her soup, Sheena still dreaming uneasily, her face rarely showing peace. “No one’s hurt. Not that I see.” Her smile up at him looked secure, sincere. “You don’t want to hurt them.”

That’s not something she can just know. But she does, so easily. Suddenly, crying was all too tempting to try. He’s just not used to such a smile.

With a well-placed laugh, the kind that Sheena had once called creepy and boy, was she right about that, for even in his ears, it slid around like something that was meant to slink into the dark, he then stretched out his arms. He faced Colette, folding those arms behind his head, as nonchalant as they come.

“Maybe you’re right, Colette.” He tried to make out that necklace she wore in the adjusted dark. “But enough about me. You all better now?”

Colette blinked. Even in her own quirky ways, she hadn’t seen that coming from him. Poor little angel, never thinking of herself first in anything. “Um, yes! I don’t… feel that pain anymore.” He saw her hand reach up to the necklace, fingers brushing against the chain, against the shape of the stone set in its clasp. “I know how lucky I am.”

In the dark outside, he could hear voices. So could Colette, turning her head towards the door.

Why don’t you just go and leave me, like you want to?

But he didn’t say that, not exactly anyway. A small smirk that the dark hid, holding back that famous creepy laugh of his. “So go on,” Zelos prodded, smiling still, letting her turn back to him. “Why don’t you tell me why you came out here in the first place.”

That unease, but again, just a little one. Colette’s grip on the necklace went tighter. “I heard Lloyd.”

Of course.

Zelos sighed, long and over-dramatic. It was the same mock sigh he’d do after whining about walking the roads for hours on end, getting an irritated look from Raine, or a grumble from Genis. Not his fault that it’s a talent.

“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. That trick can still be plenty useful at least.”

“Ah, yeah! And it’s not painful anymore.” Colette tilted her head, looked just past her left shoulder.

Stall. At least for a little bit.

“Didn’t think to check his room?” he asked, tone as nonchalant as they came. Maybe sweet, innocent Colette might doubt herself on that, if he were lucky.

“I did… but he’s not there.” She finally let go of the necklace then, clasping her hands tightly. “I hear him. He’s upset. Can’t you tell?”

Pause. Zelos smiled.

“…Now, how would I know that?” His own crystal was burning, his back stinging from past attempts. Maybe the wings hurt more when your guilt was just too heavy. (Why should I feel guilty?)

Colette blinked, and the confusion there was genuine. Maybe she’s a practiced liar, but Zelos can pick out those little tells from others. Some wore their lies so well, not caring if they were caught in the act. But with Colette…

It wasn’t that. Instead, she saw him. The same look of worry when she walked out and found him standing among unconscious bodies.

“Because you care about Lloyd, too,” she said, answering him so easily and without a hiccup. At first, Zelos didn’t even know how to answer.

And after, he still didn’t.

“I hear him… He’s outside. There’s something wrong.” Colette looked at Zelos, but gave another thoughtful glance to the room around her; to Tabatha who still sat, body so still if not for the brief intake of breath that could be heard, in comparison to Altessa’s rough snores from further away. “I need to go to him. Will you come with me?”

And maybe, for Zelos

it wasn’t

what he expected at all.

The pause stretched between them, and Colette was still standing, looking at him, at him. The strength of her gaze was overwhelming, and it was the kind of gaze that Zelos’ instinct was telling him to run away from. Because if someone looks at him long enough, just enough? They would see him, for what he really was.

A coward that wants to win, that wants to just have something work out for once. A coward that can’t take the fact that maybe anything Lloyd had ever said to him would literally mean nothing but ash.

He’d never been good enough, and even as Colette looked at him, that thought doesn’t go away. Maybe it just makes it worse.

But back then, at the campfire, she had seen him too. And she hadn’t turned away then.

“Zelos?”

Colette called out, and it seemed to pluck him out from something so dark that he couldn’t understand where he was for a moment. But still; easy smile, easy shrug. He stepped back just oh so slightly.

“Need the Great Zelos to accompany you, is that it?” He slides into his voice like a weathered jacket. Its seen so much use, and he was getting bored with it, but why let go of something that just works? “You know I don’t typically leave a gorgeous fan like you hanging!”

He’s almost guilty for her smile then. But, ah, it faltered on her face. He was wrong about her being naïve, but she was always so surprising. “But… you don’t want to?”

A nod. “Gonna pass on this.” A flick towards Altessa’s door. More noises, almost like a scuffle, and he knows little angel can hear it as well. She won’t stay this patient for long. “Not my place.”

He still remembered when Lloyd was gonna shove him back, fists clenched. He lost that chance long ago.

“But…you always have a place with us,” Colette said. “We’re your friends.”

How could someone genuinely believe that? How could she see still look at him, standing among everyone knocked out, and see an actual person there?

He could never be like that. The thought made his chest feel like it was about to cave in.

Before either could say anything then, there was a scream. It traveled through that door all too easily. But everyone stayed asleep, stuck in their little dreamlands that Zelos had led them to, only to leave them stranded.

Only he and Colette had heard. But you didn’t even need some sharpened angel senses to know how much that sound could pierce right through.

He saw Colette’s foot move, her boot sliding across the floor just a bit. Then stop. Because she was looking back at him again. Always at him.

“We can both go to him,” she said, and in her voice, she sounded so desperate suddenly. “Zelos?”

The thought of someone seeing him like this just only made him want to hide, hide even more in the dark. And maybe he was like Lloyd in some ways like she once said; stubborn as hell, even in his misery.

“Just go to your Lloyd,” he said, hating how it sounded like he was giving her permission. She didn’t need that from him. Not right now.

Because the thing was, Colette eventually needed to make a choice anyway. Her hand reached for the necklace, then stopped mid-way. Still, she never broke her gaze with him, even as he could see her tremble in that brief indecision.

Still, that keyword. Brief.

“I’m sorry,” she said. People always throw around apologies like it was candy, like it was spare Gald thrown to the poor. But from her mouth, he felt that sincerity.

He couldn’t give it back. He shrugged. “You do you, Colette,” and turned away.

Even as he knew she was walking away, he could barely hear her steps. Like she was so deathly afraid to trip and mess up, that any wrong movement of hers would ruin everything. Maybe she just always felt that way, and maybe he got the sentiment as well. Except he had ruined so much that any pang of regret he felt was too meaningless, too routine.

But did that door open just yet? Why was she taking so long? Lloyd was out there, waiting to be saved like she had always wanted to be able to do, after he saved her. Because that’s what Lloyd does, putting himself out there more than any person could possibly endure, but will anyone save him when he needs it most? What was Colette doing? Hurry and go to him! Zelos can’t ruin this anymore than he already had!

But she was waiting for an extra moment, and in that moment, he knew it wasn’t a choice that she had to make. She’d made hers already.

It’s not my place, he thinks again, his steps sliding across the floor, just a bit.

But maybe-

He can still make one, his and his alone.

#tales of symphonia #zelos wilder #colette brunel #lloyd irving #fanfiction #one shot #i forgot to cross post this one here whoops

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sylvain-writes · 3 years

Text

Cold Pizza (Raphael x Gender Neutral Reader)

Rated: T Gender Neutral Reader, power outage, banter, light angst and fluff, mutual pining, friends to lovers, Raph can cook <5k words

Snow falls gently upon the city outside your window, and it should be calm. You should want to listen to soft jazz or something. You should be sipping tea and enjoying the sight. But instead you're stifling a laugh at the sound of Raphael swearing behind you as he stubs his toe in the dark.

"Shit. Why the hell is that in the middle of the floor?"

"It's a coffee table, Raph. It's in front of the couch same as always." You haven't redecorated the apartment in months, but it's only Raph's second visit. You can't really blame him for not knowing the layout of the place by heart. But he's a ninja, isn't he? Shouldn't he be better at finding his way through the shadows?

The table scrapes against the hardwood floor as he drags it back into place and you snicker into the sleeve of your long-sleeve tee. The building only lost power ten minutes ago but your hands are already getting cold.

The crinkle of the last bag of potato chips gets louder as Raphael comes up behind you. "Don woulda neva let this happen."

"Really?" You huff. "Donatello wouldn't have let the blizzard get so bad that it took down the power lines?"

"Well, he woulda made sure the generator was workin', but no. That's not what I'm talkin' about." He crunched and munched in your ear.

As payback for the purposefully annoying chew, you snagged a chip out of his hand and gnashed your teeth over it hard. Crumbs fell to the ground and he snarled, shaking his head.

"You heathen. This is the last of the food! Your cupboards are bare."

"My cupboards? Ok, grandma..." You don't hide your snicker this time. "There's canned soup and, like, other stuff in the pantry, dude. Don't get your panties in a twist."

"We can't turn on the stove if there's no power, genius."

"It's a gas oven, genius."

"I don't know what difference that makes, Einstein."

"It means all I need is a lighter and I can ignite the gas, Einstein."

"Well, you don't smoke, Edison."

"Valid. But I do have a lighter. It's in a drawer somewhere."

It does take another ten minutes to actually find the lighter, in your nightstand, having been tossed there after you used it to light some candles in your room forever ago. And even after you find it, you set a pot of water to boil only to have Raphael complain that he can't find the pasta you were sure was in the pantry.

"Well, what is in there?" you ask as you light a few more candles around the kitchen.

Raphael places a jar of tomato sauce on the counter, but his tone remains unimpressed. "Flour and shit."

"That's fucking gross."

"You know what I mean." Raphael opened the cabinet door wide. "Flour, sugar, salt... I don't know. Like, a thousand different jars of seasonings you've probably never used ever."

"How do you know I've never used them?"

"Probably because they've all got their plastic seals on?"

"Right. I don't really cook that much."

Raphael gestures to the otherwise empty shelves. "I'm shocked."

"Well..." You pass the jar of tomato sauce you were going to use for the pasta you actually don't have from one hand to the other as you think. "There's gotta be something. Grab the cereal, at least."

The Honey Nut Cheerios barely have a bowl left. It's hard to ignore it when Raphael's stomach growls.

"Ok, ok. Maybe we should order take out?" But as you form the question, you notice something more than hunger and frustration in the way Raphael wraps his arms around himself. "You feeling alright?"

"Sure." Raphael shrugs, and though you have to squint in the evening's fading light, you think he looks a little paler than usual.

"Raph?"

He's the master of compartmentalizing and hiding his feelings -- until they bubble over into a fiery mess -- but he's utter crap at suppressing the shiver that runs through his arms while you're staring.

"Dude… you're sick or something."

"I'm not," Raph says, relaxing his arms from around his body to his sides, but his shoulders remain tense. His arms stay tucked tight against his sides. "I'm fine. There's nothin' to say. We're stuck here. Right?"

"Call Donnie."

"He can't… he can't come out in this weather."

"The weather?" The winds had died down. And yeah, the drifts were pretty high in some parts of the city, but it was dark enough that- "Are you too cold?"

Raphael shrugs.

You move closer to him, reaching out, and his arm under your hand feels cold to the touch. "Raph…"

He leans into your touch a second longer than he wants to, chasing the heat as you pull your hand away. You're close friends, but you don't go around holding onto each other or anything. The way he chases the warmth of your hand, the small needy sound in his throat, breaks you inside.

"It’s why we got generators at the lair. They mostly run on street power Donnie got hooked up, but… don't do so well in the cold, y'know?"

"Shit. I'm sorry." You turn on another burner and fill another pot of water. "Can you, uh, get in touch with D? I know there's a way to get the oven going but I, er, don't wanna blow up the apartment in the process."

Raph nods and you notice another shiver. He hunches in on himself as he thumbs out a text to his brother.

While he's occupied, you rush over to the living room and grab a blanket from the couch. You're not sure he wants to admit just how cold he is, so you don't wrap it around his shoulders yourself, but you place it on the counter with purpose and head into the bedroom to find a heavier sweater for yourself. And some socks. You definitely need to double up your socks. And shit, maybe you should offer Raph some socks too.

But what the hell socks do you have that'll fit him?

You grab the comforter from your bed and hug a pair of pillows to your chest. The way to the livingroom causes you to stumble and you know you're not looking the cutest you've ever looked when you crash into the couch with your load, but you manage to grunt like a buffoon when you bounce off the couch cushions and land hard on the floor.

"Graceful." Raphael says from the kitchen counter. He saunters over, wrapped up in the blanket, wearing it like a shawl and looking ever so much like a reptilian version of the big bad wolf pretending to be grandma.

"My, what big eyes you have." You kid, and you smirk, but color blooms high on Raphs cheeks and you watch him duck his head just a bit as he tries not to break your gaze.

"They um… they're the same as always , y'know?"

From there on the floor, you look up at him and wonder when he became so shy. He's been your best friend for ages. He's muscles and bravado. He's a ninja skill set and a heart of gold. He's fire and sugar and the kind of spicy that'll catch you on fire if you stay too close, but you always want to be close to him and you know one day you're going to get burned. It's why you don't touch. It's why you point to the blankets and pillows on the couch and you back away from the pile so he can get them himself.

You know if you get too close. If you let yourself linger near him, you'll stay too long. You'll get burned. What's between you simmers when you keep your distance. That's good. That's better. You don't want him to push you away, so it's better to keep some distance. He hasn't pulled you closer, so you think you're doing the right thing. If you were reading this wrong, there would have been some clue. Someone would have said something. Raph would have said something. He's not one to mince words about what he wants.

He's very much the guy who tells you what he wants when he wants it.

"Don says we can light the pilot and have the gas oven heat the room, but you're gonna have to do it because my hands are too big."

"Know what they say about a man with big hands?"

Raphael crosses his arms over his chest, unamused. "Woulda lit the damn thing myself if my hands were smaller so it don't really matter what people say about big hands. At the moment these big hands are useless."

"Geez, Raph," you scoot around him to get at the oven. "You're not useless. Chrissake."

The oven lights and you crank it up to 500°F. "We can leave the door open a crack and let it warm the room."

"Or we can make pizza."

"Sure. Yeah." You say, dripping with sarcasm. "We could totally learn how to make pizza in the dark with no electricity or ingredients."

"We don't got no ingredients." Exasperated, Raphael throws off the blanket and gestures toward the pantry. "You got spices. Sauce. Flour."

"What about cheese?" Your hands are on your hips and your toe is tapping because you just know he's going to come after your snacks.

"I saw like 7000 Polly-O string cheese things in your crisper drawer-"

"Don't touch my string cheese!" He wouldn't dare.

"We can grate it down for-"

"You monster!"

Raphael is more snarl than laugh when he crows, "You're being ridiculous! I'm making pizza. Are you in?" His gaze narrows and you think he may be serious about tossing you out of the kitchen. "Or are you just in my way?"

As it's the only warm room in the apartment, you're ready to make all the sacrifices necessary to keep your ass in the kitchen.

Raphael and his big hands leave you at a loss as he uses his thick fingers to ever so delicately arrange his phone against the tomato sauce jar. “Sit still ya lil fucker.” With each adjustment he makes, the phone slides down the counter, unwilling to stand in place so that he can read the recipe without getting his phone dirty with sticky doughy hands.

You shouldn’t just stand there watching with a grin, but you really can’t help it. It’s adorable. You really think you may be falling in love with him just watching the way he shifts the phone inch by inch. Then when he finally has the phone in place, he throws his hands up in the air, victory writ large upon his features. His smile is open and wide and it’s such a stark contrast to see him now, his body flooded with joy and warmth as opposed to when he was near frozen, that you can’t help but smile back. You’re a little thrown by just how charming that smile can be. You lock eyes and get stuck. He’s so handsome. He’s so true to himself. He’s just real and raw and he doesn’t care that this is only a tiny victory of some phone vs man vs counter slip ridiculousness. He’s excited and he lets you join him in this celebration because it’s fun and it doesn’t have to mean anything more than fun.

You shake your head as you grab the flour from the pantry and place it on the counter. “One small step for a man, one giant leap toward making a pizza. We actually need to get some ingredients in a bowl, methinks.”

Raphael takes the flour and tears the never opened bag open from the top. He’s obviously never done it before. Flour ends up everywhere and you don’t even bother to tell him that he could have easily unfolded the flour bag and made far less mess.

As you watch his flour dusted face reemerge from the plume of flour, you’re actually glad you didn’t mention it. Or else you wouldn’t have had the chance to see him look so surprised. To surprise a ninja, now that had to be some kind of feat.

Raphael’s green eyes blink at you, stark contrast green from the white floured face around them. His mask is caked in the stuff. You laugh as you reach forward. “May I?”

He hasn’t really said yes, but he’s spoken no objection either, so you slide the mask over his head and dust it off before laying it on the counter.

Seeing him without his mask is always a pleasure. One of the small pleasures you don’t mention out loud. Like standing too close, it runs the risk of being burned. Something Raphael could take away if you make too big a deal of it. So, you try not to stare, while simultaneously trying to memorize every bump and slope of his features.

“You’re a real mess,” you say, wiping Raph’s cheek with a clean hand. “How much of this flour are we gonna lose before you whip up dinner, huh?”

Raphael has been staring at you. He hasn’t even been paying attention to your words. In fact, he’s not sure you’re speaking. Everything feels like it’s moving in slow motion because your hands are reaching toward him for the second and third time today and that never happens. That never happens and Raph knows for sure because he pays attention to that sort of thing. He notices when you come close because he waits for it. He wishes for it. He clocks each step you take toward him and bites back a pout each time you pull away.

When your hands reach for his mask, he doesn’t know what to say, so he stays still. And you unmask him. And the world doesn’t stop turning, but it sure feels like all of the air has been sucked from the room. But you’re smiling, so he knows nothing bad has happened.

You’re smiling so the world is still spinning.

His mask is in your hands and flour is falling to the floor like weightless raindrops and he can almost make out your laughter past the sound of his own thoughts. There’s nothing Raphael loves more than his time with you. The sound of your voice. The curve of your smile. The barely visible sunburst of silver under the pigment of your iris.

He shouldn’t know about that design. He shouldn’t pay such close attention to your eyes that it would be plastered in his memory. But he has. He does. He watches you when you’re not paying attention. When you’re playing around with his brothers or working at your computer. He watches the light reflect off your eyes. He could map the lines of your irises. And that’s probably weird. He’s no artist. He knows that. He can’t do flowery words or paint a picture. But he has a mind like a steel trap. He remembers everything about you.

So, when you tease him about making dinner, he knows you’re probably thinking about your own lack of culinary experience. You’re worried about screwing things up and probably relieved that Raphael is a little clumsy himself.

Raph uses this to his advantage, to make things a little easier for you. With a kind smile, he points to the cabinets. “I need a mixing bowl and some measuring cups. Oil, salt, and sugar. And yeast. We need yeast.”

“Yeah. OK. Like I have fucking yeast up in this bitch.”

Raphael hums and turns. He’s pretty sure he saw something that looked suspiciously like yeast in the cabinet. And there, on the row with all of the other unused herbs and spices, was a jar of the stuff. “You really suck at this.”

You raise an eyebrow in surprise. “Don’t I know it.” There’s no way to argue around it.

Taking orders from Raphael isn’t a turn on or anything. You’re not getting goosebumps from his praise or hanging on his every word like it’s the air that you breathe. But he’s standing close and the way his breath is warmer than the air around you makes your blood feel like it’s thrumming through your veins a little more quickly tonight than it was just minutes ago.

Standing in front of the open oven is hot work. You don’t know much about dough, but you’ve watched enough Great British Bake Off to know this rise is going to happen fast in the hot kitchen.

“We should close the oven door,” you suggest. “Get the inside temperature right and let the dough do it’s thing before we shape it and sauce it up and stuff.”

“Wow, that’s a lotta we talk. You sure you’re up to the task? Thought you were taking more of a supervisory role, here.”

“I grated the cheese, didn’t I?”

“You made more wine than cheese, sweetheart.”

“Yes, well, it was my favorite snack.”

“It’s sacrifice will be worth it.”

The pizzas only took about ten minutes in the oven before the dough was crispy, the cheese not quite burned, and the sauce was bubbly hot. Raphael moved them onto the bare countertop to cool. “So, we keepin’ the oven on or?”

“Of course we can.” You glance at the oven and then at the pile of blankets and pillows in the living room. “Can’t we?”

“I could ask Don? Seems like the power could be out all night. Not sure we should leave the oven on indefinitely.”

“Well… we’ll figure that out after we eat, I guess.”

Eating was weird. You sat close, sharing the light of a candle to make sure you weren’t dripping sauce all over yourselves. Your elbows nudged each other as you moved and you had to stop yourself from shifting further away each time. It would look suspicious. You weren’t close because you wanted to be, because you desired to be as close to Raphael as physically possible without fear of your feelings being known… you were sitting elbow to elbow with him now because you needed to. He wasn’t going to read anything into it.

“You have sauce on your chin.”

“I what?”

“Sauce,” Raphael said, quieter than you expect from him. Perhaps he worries about shouting in your face. Things do seem louder in the dark. So then why does he sound like he’s whispering?

“Oh. Yeah. The sauce is good, Raph. You, uh, know your way around that spice rack.”

“Nah, I mean…” Raphael shakes his head good naturedly and sighs before lifting his thumb to your chin. He takes your face in his hand as he drags his thumb over your chin, wiping your skin clean with a smooth drag of his thumb.

“Raph?” You suck in a breath and you catch his gaze. He’s squinting at you as you struggle to make sense of his sudden closeness.

When he pulls away, you watch as he wipes his hand on his shorts. “You had sauce. Ya know? It was uh, just there.”

“Oh!” You wipe at the spot Raph has already cleaned, your cheeks and ears growing hot. “I… thanks.”

“Yeah, no prob.” Raphael clears his throat and scratches the back of his neck. He’s still not wearing his mask, so each twitch of his eyes is out in the open. But you wonder if it’s a trick of the light, him looking embarrassed and unsure.

“The blankets and stuff. I was gonna say we should tuck under them. I don’t know about you, but that oven’s been off for a minute and I’m already feeling like-”

“The blankets are good.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Raph says, swallowing hard. “The cold makes me a little tired, you know?”

You shrug. You suppose it makes sense. You feel a little tired yourself. “You could sleep. Do you mind if I share the couch with you? That’s my stuff from my room.”

“No. I mean, yeah. I mean. I don’t mind sharin’. Donatello says humans run hot?”

“Compared to you?” You know you probably shouldn’t joke about something like this when Raphael was vulnerable, but you always joke about everything. To not joke about this feels like it would make things worse, make them mean more, give the vulnerability more weight than if you treat it the same as everything else. “Yeah. I guess. We’re warm-blooded.” It feels weird to refer to humans as we and the turtles as they. You rarely think of yourself as different from them. You haven’t thought of them as other than the guys for so long. “It’s um…”

“Yeah, so, like sharing would be fine. It’s cool.”

“You wanna use my body, Raph? That what this is about? You tryin’ to steal my heat? My human fire?”

“Are you kidding?”

“About mi fuego humano?”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Baby you can light my fire.”

“I don’t even know you.”

“You wanna sleep with a stranger! For shame!”

“Don’t slut shame me. I never slut shame you.”

“Yeah ok, sure, dude.”

“What? I don’t.”

“Uh, you crap on every guy I’ve ever been out with.”

“No, I don’t. No I haven’t.”

Suddenly all the joking isn’t fun. Because if Raphael can’t see how hard you’ve tried to get over him. How hard you’ve tried to move past your feelings for him, feelings that he so very clearly does not reciprocate, then you really don’t want to play this game anymore.

You stand up and move to the couch. You won’t deny him your body heat if that’s what he needs, but you don’t think you can carry on this conversation. By the time he gets to the blankets, they’ll be warm, you think. Then maybe you can have a minute to yourself.

Raphael follows you to the living room in quiet contemplation. “I hate the guys you date.”

“Great. They were real winners anyway so, thanks for running them off. Never did stand a chance with them.”

“They weren’t good enough for you.”

“Pfft.” He doesn’t get it. None of them were good enough, yeah. Because every guy you’ve ever talked to, ever listened to talk about their hobbies and dreams and hopes and family, every guy who has ever taken an interest in you, you’ve compared to Raphael. And every one of them has come up short.

“You know how good you are? Like, a good person. Not like 'tries to be good' or 'does the right thing' kinda good…”

“Gee thanks, big guy. I’m blushing.”

Raphael turns to face you on the couch, his back braced against the arm rest and honest to god shoves you with his bare foot. You can’t help but notice his toes are ice cold. “What I’m saying is you’re the 'real' good. A good heart. You do the wrong shit for the right reasons kinda good. You hurt because you care, yet you still care.”

You let Raph ramble because you don’t know what you’d say if you stopped him, if you acknowledge the things that he says. You let Raph ramble and you pull his ice cold foot into your lap under the blankets. You warm it in your hands. Maybe it should be gross. He’s been walking around the apartment since early this afternoon barefoot. But it’s just feet. Just skin. Just flesh and bone and it’s all so cold between your palms.

Raphael scoots down against the armrest, just a little so that his foot is resting comfortably in your lap. He turns away from you to look at an alert on his phone, all the while still talking about how good you were when you tried to help Leo with his attempt to try every flavor of Pringles that you could find at the gas station mini mart. It was a valiant attempt and Leo didn’t want to do it alone. You both ended up with pretty bad indigestion, but it was fun and Raphael had seemed extra happy to see Leo making a friend and being a total idiot with you.

“Donatello says the power should be up and running again sometime tonight. There was an update on the website or something.”

“They give updates on this shit?”

“I guess?”

Your hands move to Raphael’s other foot as you nod. “I don’t really like the guys I date either,” you admit aloud. “It’s not that I set out ready to dump them, it’s just that they don’t interest me. I try to get to know them, I try to let them get to know me. But it goes nowhere. I don’t get that feeling, you know?”

Raphael’s jaw tenses, but he doesn’t answer.

You think maybe he doesn’t know that feeling. Maybe he doesn’t feel romantic attraction the way you do. “Raph, have you ever-”

“I don’t like it.”

You nod, thinking you’ll get more out of him if you stay silent. But when he doesn’t elaborate, you realize you have to say something. “You don’t like…”

“All those guys goin’ out with ya. They don’t know ya. They don’t treat ya the way ya should be treated.”

“Really? How do they treat me?”

“Like… like… They don’t let ya let go. I see ya going off with them and you go quiet or you laugh too loud.”

“I’m too quiet. I’m too loud. Which is it, Raph?”

“You deserve somebody who lets ya have fun. You make jokes and goof off and sometimes yeah it’s cause you’re nervous but mostly it’s cause ya have funny shit goin’ on in ya head and ya wanna let me in on the joke.”

You nod. You really do think you’re the most hilarious person on the fucking planet. It’d be a shame to keep all the good stuff to yourself. Even so, you don’t share your thoughts with just anybody. Raphael is right, it’s him who you want to let in.

“If I took ya out, it’d be like tonight.”

“Oh. Yeah. Yeah.” You say thoughtfully, sarcastically, poking fun and rubbing at your chin not caring a whit that you just had Raphael’s feet in your hands. “Like tonight. You’d cut the power to the city so we could freeze our asses off, then set up a super romantic dinner where we eat by candlelight.”

“We’d be laughing. Teasin. I’d make you dinner and if you want fucking candles I’ll light you a fucking candle.”

“And I’d rub your feet to thank you for making me such a delicious dinner.”

“Yeah. I deserve some pampering.”

“What about me? I don’t deserve to be pampered?”

“I just made you a romantic dinner with candles and all that shit.”

“Hypothetically. Yet here I am, literally rubbing your feet.”

“So what do you want, you want a foot rub for you too? Huh? You want a little shoulder rub cause you worked so hard watching me work my ass off in the kitchen?”

You pinch his ankle surprised he can feel anything when it all feels like rock solid muscle. Instead of answering with words, you give him a wry grin and move around a bit under the blankets. You relax into his chest, lying your head over his heart and settling your body between his and the pillows. “You’re a real smartass.”

Beneath you, Raphael lies still.

“This OK?”

Raph shifts a bit, you feel his hands rise and fall. “I don’t really know what to do with my hands.”

You hum and nod your head against Raphael’s chest. You reach blindly for Raph’s arms, one by one, and wrap them over your back. “Don’t have to do anything.”

Raphael relaxes a little at the news. He ducks his head low and you think you can feel him breathe you in. He rests his cheek on the top of your head before asking, “This that body heat thing?”

You nuzzle his chest, allowing yourself to slip under his arm a bit. Better position for falling asleep. “Yeah,” you say. “Sure.”

Raphael squeezes his arms around you, but he doesn’t say anything. You have to ask or you won’t be sure. Even if it means getting burned. Even if it means you’ve put too much meaning into things and you’re going to be pushed away, you have to know.

“This is more than a body heat thing. For me.” You bury your face in his chest as you wait for his response. At least, for a few seconds longer, you can pretend his heart is beating for you.

“When I take you on a proper date, there’s gonna be tables and napkins. And maybe something fancy to drink...”

“And then-”

“This. And then, this.”

“I like this.”

“Me too.”

#Raphael TMNT #Raphael x gender neutral reader #raphael #gender neutral reader #this was left in my drafts for a long while #i don't think i've posted it #enjoy it's got some cute shit in there especially toward the end #my writing

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platoniclokiimagines · 3 years

Note

Hey I love your blog so much it has become my safe place! Could you write something where reader is recovering from a restrictive eating disorder and loki is there for her? Im there myself and support from my favorite character would be warmly welcomed 💙

A/N: Normally this would be at the end of this little section, here, but I wanted to put this first because I would like to very much apologize for this being so beyond late. I hope that you’re still here, still reading this blog, and still finding solace in Loki. Disordered eating is something that I’ve been struggling with for the past several years, too, and I know how difficult it can be to come back from that. I appreciate you entrusting me and my Loki to help comfort you, and I hope you know that you are never never never alone. Stay strong, dear one. We’re rooting for you.

WC: 1367

TW: eating disorder, eating disorder recovery // Please please PLEASE do not read this if you do not think that this is something that you can handle.

You’d been staring at the open refrigerator for what feltlike hours, and you were certain you would have stayed there for several more,if you hadn’t heard the soft voice behind you.

“Y/N?”

You didn’t turn around; you didn’t need to, to recognize theperson speaking.

Loki had been the best, when it came to helping you throughthe steps to recovery after you’d admitted how much trouble you’d been havingeating, and they had been doing everything that they could to make the entireprocess on you as easy as possible. They sat with you when you were strugglingto eat, they made you your favorite foods to eat in hopes you’d take even justa couple of bites. They were with you through it all.

In short, they had been a blessing, and you were gratefulthat they were being so kind and understanding in a time where you just neededthe support of someone who cared about you.

“…come on. I’ll fix you some tomato soup. Nice and easy, andwarm.”

They patted you on the back gently, and you mustered up aweak smile as you closed the refrigerator and watched them start digging aroundfor a pot and a can of soup.

“You could just make it in the microwave, you know. ‘sfaster,”you pointed out as you hefted yourself onto a barstool on the opposite side ofthe kitchen island.

“Perhaps, but then I wouldn’t have nearly as much time totalk to you while I make it.” Lokismiled at you then, and you smiled a little more as well, watching as theyturned the stove on and got the soup all ready to heat up just how you likedit, some salt, some pepper, and just a bitof mint, which you’d convinced them ‘enhances the flavor.’

Once they got it simmering, they turned around to face you,leaning back against the counter, close to the stove so they could stir everyso often.

“How are you feeling?” Loki asked it not entirely hesitant, but with obvious concern thatyou might take ill to the question itself, but you only shrugged a bit.

“Bad food day.”

Loki nodded. “That’s okay. It happens sometimes, yeah? Andthat’s okay. Maybe the soup will help a little. Just a few bites, that’s all.And if you want more, then that’s great, but if not, that’s alright, too. Wecan save it for later.”

You nodded and smiled weakly, but it was a struggle. Lokimade it all sound so easy and reasonable, and while you appreciated that theywere handling it that way, it still made you wish that you could get yourself to be that reasonable.

“Hey… Where’s your mind at?” This time, Loki spoke muchsofter, and when you looked back up at them, you found they were watching youintently, brow furrowed as they looked at you, and you heaved a sigh, knowingit would do neither of you any good to lie.

“I just… wish I could get my own brain to think that reasonably.”

Loki nodded slowly, and set down the spoon they were holdingas they moved to lean across the kitchen island so they could place a hand overyours, and for a long moment, they stood there in silence, as they tried to workout what they wanted to say.

“…I can’t imagine what you’re going through right now. And Idon’t want to tell you that anything that you’re feeling is bad or wrong oranything like that at all, because I’m not you, and I don’t get to decide that.But what I can tell you is that…everything that you are feeling isvalid. No matter what anyone else says, or what you say, or even what your ownmind says. It’s tough to be tormented by your own thoughts. That I can relate to. But that doesn’t meanthat you aren’t capable or deserving of good things. Even if it doesn’t feellike that right now, maybe it won’t forever. But I’ll be right here with you,every step of the way, to remind you. You’ll find yourself again, in time. Andit will be a glorious day when youdo. But for now, doing your best is more than enough, and I’m so proud of youfor doing all the hard work that you’re doing.”

You swallowed thickly, finding yourself unable to look atLoki and instead focusing on the pattern of the marbling beneath your hands. “Whatif I relapse again?”

“…then you relapse. And we start back from step one again.That doesn’t mean that you’ve failed. Not in the least. It means you’re still fighting. And that will always beadmirable.”

You nodded a bit, but you still couldn’t look up at Loki,not with the way you could feel the tears welling up in your eyes.

“…is there even a point in trying?”

Loki squeezed your hand gently, and then let go, only tocome around to where you were sitting, kneeling in front of you and taking yourhands so that you were left with no option butto turn on your seat so that you could face them.

“Of course there’sa point. There’s always a point.” Loki held your hands tightly, making surethat you were still looking at them before they continued again. “There are somany things you have left to experience. So many sunsets, and rainstorms, and…trips to the beach with the rest of the team, where you get so sunburned youcan hardly move the next day, and… evenings curled up on the couch with thatbook you’ve read so many times you could probably recite it word for word.Laughing at Thor when he gets caught up in regaling battle tales, and makingfun of Rogers for not understanding where a popular reference came from. Warmcups of tea on late nights… Norns,rainbows and little puppies and babies laughing so whole-heartedly that itmakes you laugh.”

Just the thought ofthat was enough for you to give a watery little laugh, and that was really whatLoki was hoping for, and they smiled along with you, grateful for even just that much from you.

“…we need you herewith us, Y/N. Me, Thor, the rest of the team. We all need you. And we care about you, and we want you to be happy andhealthy, and we’ll do everything that we can to remind you of that, I’ll do everything I can to remind youof that. We’ll take it one day at a time. Just… don’t give up on us yet, okay?Don’t give up on us.”

You sniffled, rather gracelessly, and gave a hiccupping littlesob of a laugh as you nodded a bit. “…one day at a time.”

Loki nodded, and squeezed your hands gently one more time beforestanding up so that they could properly hug you, smiling a bit when youreturned the hug just as fiercely.

“…we’re going to get through this, Y/N. We will. I promiseyou.”

You nodded against their shoulder, and after a long while,drew back, rubbing at your eyes with your sleeve. “…I really needed to hear… all of that.”

“I know. That’s why I said it.” Loki grinned a bit, just cheeky enough to make you smile, aswell, and you couldn’t help but to laugh. “I bet that soup is warm enough foryou, now. We’ll get that in a bowl for you, and get you a nice glass of water. Andwhen you’ve had however much you want, we’ll have a nice little spa day, yeah?I’ll even let you put that horridblack goo on my face that hurts when you take it off.”

“…a face mask?”

Loki only waved their hand dismissively, focusing on ladlingthe soup into a bowl for you, and you smiled a little more, the last bit ofapprehension melting away, at least for now, as you watched them work with suchcare. You weren’t so sure youdeserved them, but gods, were you glad to have them.

“…you’ve got yourself a deal.”

#Loki imagine #platonic Loki imagine #Loki #Loki Laufeyson #Loki Odinson #marvel #Loki x reader #platonic!Loki x reader #anonymous #ask #answered #tw: eating disorder #Trigger Warning eating disorder #thank you for the ask #i hope it brings you comfort

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