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yanderes-galore · 2 months ago

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Thought of another one, a five finger fillet scenario with javier? A bet of letting darling free if they win. You can choose wether darling wins or looses, or if he even keeps to his word

Ah, yes, one last gamble to see where you get to go. Made you not part of the gang/the same gang as it would be strange to kidnap a fellow gang member... right? Sorry it's short, I just sort of focused on the idea more than background and aftermath :(

Risk and Reward

Yandere! Javier Escuella Scenario

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Sadism, Blood, Five Finger Fillet/Knife game, Post kidnapping plot, Possessive behavior, Isolation, Forced relationship.

"Just a little game, my love... you wanted freedom, yeah? Wanted to be away from the big scary outlaw?"

Javier's voice is taunting as he taps his knife on the table. You look at him warily, watching as he practices with his knife. You... dread what he plans to do.

"C'mon, baby... you don't have much of a choice either way, right?" Javier grins, stabbing the knife into the table with a shrug. "Just a little game of risk and reward... you ain't got much to lose."

You really didn't have much to lose. You had no horse and Javier kept you in a cabin way out in the middle of nowhere. He had taken you from your home... you only had him.

If you played this game... maybe... just maybe... you can go home?

"Five Finger Fillet... You know how to play, hm?" Javier muses, picking up the knife to start the usual pattern of the game. "How about, since you seem so... reclusive lately, I give you an ultimatum?"

Your eyes watch as he continues the pattern, your heart thumping at each jab of the knife. Javier merely chuckles at the twinkle of hope in your eyes.

"If you win this game, I'll get you a horse and let you go home," Javier begins, flipping the knife a bit as he continues. "If I win... you give up trying to run and stay with me, deal?"

The proposal itself feels like a deal with the devil. You know there's no guarantee he'll keep to his word... or if you'll even win. There's always a chance he's messing with you... but...

You're willing to risk anything to go home and away from the Mexican maniac.

"Deal." You get yourself to say, leaving Javier pleased and with a chuckle.

"Good choice, dear. Been wanting an adrenaline rush recently." Javier chuckles, gripping his knife with his other hand on the table. "Best you give it your all... It's all you've got."

Javier is the one who sets the pace for your game. A game of how many rounds you can do in 30 seconds. You're prepared to risk it all...

Only to see how fast Javier goes.

Your confidence dwindles as you see Javier perform a trick with his knife, keeping a steady pace. You feel yourself shake a little when he finishes his time, jabbing the knife into the table next to you. He grins, nodding over to the blade with laughter.

"Three rounds, dear. Unless you lose this one... think you can beat my time?" Javier coos as he watches you pick up the blade.

You take a deep breath, steadying your hand before starting. You curse yourself when you notice your slow pace. You want to speed up... but you worry. You aren't going to beat his time...

You need to win twice....

"Nice try...." Javier teases once your time is up. You weren't as fast as him, clearly inexperienced. You still tried to keep your hope...

But nothing seemed to get better.

Another round begins and Javier is still faster. The air is tense and blood, from the both of you, begins to show on the blade. You hiss to yourself, feeling incredibly nervous and pained. You try to go faster the next round... yet Javier only seemed to be more amused.

"I pity your poor fingers when you miss..." Javier coos, clicking his tongue when he sees you nick yourself again. "But... I suppose you should go faster, right? Last chance, baby...."

Javier's words don't help as you desperately try to complete your rounds. You're so focused on the game you barely register Javier's voice. Not until he places his hand over the handle and pulls it away.

"Aw, a shame, love." Javier clicks his tongue, watching you with amusement. "Maybe we can try again another time? Perhaps you'll get better...."

"N-No... please? Please, we can try again! I... I just needed practice! Javier, come on...!" You plead, standing up. Your hand stings from cuts but you could care less. You don't wanna stay here....

"Sorry, sweetheart... deal’s a deal." Javier coos, standing in front of you with a predatory grin. "You promise you'd be mine if I win. You wouldn't go back on your word, would you?"

You look like you're on the verge of tears, you want to protest but Javier just cups your face. He holds your wounded hand with one hand as he looks you over with a sigh. It's oddly loving... yet he's still your captor.

"It's alright, my love... I wouldn't keep my word either." Javier whispers, leaning closer as your breath hitches. "You know... You look so beautiful when you cry...."

It's then Javier kisses you and you feel defeat settle in your gut heavily. It's... not like you lost anything, you guess. It's already been months now...

You weren't ever going home...

It was foolish to even have hope.

#yandere red dead redemption #yandere red dead redemption 2 #yandere rdr #yandere rdr2 #yandere javier escuella

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indigoraysoflight · 3 months ago

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“Spicy food in India” | Caryl prompt

requested by @that-left-turn ❤️

Cardamom & Curry

Carol stared at the fish. They’d been in Munnar for three days, and Carol had already gathered three South Indian recipes to take home. She decided to try making fish curry for lunch instead of finding a local restaurant, but there was one problem. Carol had never filleted a pomfret before. Daryl was the one who always filleted fish in their home, but he was asleep, so she was on her own.

Henry and his dad, Ezekiel, had planned a trip to Kerala, South India and wanted Lydia to go with them. Lydia and Henry had been dating for three years, and Carol adored Henry. He was respectful – if a little spoiled – and he loved Lydia. She knew Daryl liked him too but was extra grumpy around the boy who was dating his adopted daughter. Henry and his dad travelled a lot and often took Lydia with them. But Daryl refused to let their kid go across the world by herself, even though their kid wasn't really 'a kid'. So, Ezekiel generously extended the invitation to Lydia’s adoptive mom and her adoptive mom’s platonic best friend, who also happened to be Lydia’s adoptive father. To say their first dinner together had been awkward would be an understatement.

They’d been saving up for a big vacation for a year and a half now, so the timing worked out. Her catering business was going well this year, but Carol doubted they’d ever be able to afford this expensive rental. The luxury cottage was built with rustic stone and wood, and nestled on top of a hill, surrounded by tea and cardamom plantations. Ezekiel had given them the tour when they arrived, but the space was too big for her taste; she would’ve preferred a cozy but comfortable cottage with a view of the rolling hills. Still, she’d smiled graciously every time he pointed out an expensive feature on the property while Daryl sulked in the back. There was an odd tension between Daryl and Ezekiel, and she'd figured out why after what happened yesterday. Carol thought it best to stay with Daryl today and take some time to think–

“You tryna fillet the fish with your mind? Just gotta use a knife.”

Carol blinked, realizing she had zoned out and she was still staring at the pomfret. “Is that how it works? I thought if I stared at it sternly, it would fillet itself.”

“Gimme.” He limped over and started filleting the pomfrets with impressive precision.

“Show off,” she muttered under her breath.

His hair was dishevelled, and he wore cargo shorts and a faded tie-dye t-shirt that Sophia had made for him years ago. She pushed his fringe back to examine the cut on his face, held together by butterfly bandages. They'd been more generous with their touches lately – especially since they got here – but she didn't mind, and she didn't think he minded either by the way he leaned into her touch.

“I’m fine. It’s just a scratch,” he said without looking up at her.

“You’re lucky you didn't need stitches.” He looked up at her then, his eyes intense as they flicked down to her lips. She realized she was just running her fingers through his hair now and stepped back.

She and Daryl woke up before dawn the last two mornings and, in a jetlagged daze, walked along the path through the tea plantation to catch the sunrise. They didn’t expect it to rain on their way back yesterday. She slipped and would’ve tumbled down the path, but Daryl steadied her, lost his balance, and landed in the tea plantation. Besides a large cut on the left side of his face, tea leaves stuck to his elbows and knees, and a sprained ankle — he was intact. His eyes held a fear she hadn’t seen in five years – fear and something else – as he frantically checked her for injuries and then held her in his arms for a solid minute in the rain.

“This fish isn't going to marinate itself,” she said in a chipper voice and mixed the spices in a bowl to calm her heart rate before smearing a generous amount of the paste on the fish.

“That’s enough. Dunno if I need more spice.”

Carol smirked and batted her eyelashes at him. “But I thought you liked it when I’m spicy, Pookie.”

“Stop.”

They fell into the rhythm they had in their own kitchen. She sauteed the onions with the spice mixture while he squinted at the recipe she’d scribbled on a paper pad and started cutting the tomatoes – stopping every few seconds to pop a slice in his mouth. Carol took a deep breath and focused on the onions. Something had viscerally shifted between them on the long flight over here. She’d clung to him on the plane during turbulence, and after they landed, they kept reaching for an excuse to touch each other. She’d been so unguarded in the way she leered at him that Lydia and Henry had given her a knowing look more than once.

“Where’s the royal family? I’m guessing Lydia is with them?” Daryl casually fed her a slice of tomato and then sucked the juice off his fingers.

They’re gone, and I’m in trouble. Carol steadied her voice. “Lydia, Henry, and Zeke went sightseeing; they won’t return until after dinner.” It’s just us, and you keep doing that thing with your mouth, she thought.

Carol let the curry simmer while they stepped onto the balcony and lounged on the chairs, staring at the green expanse. The air was dewy and perpetually scented with a hint of cardamom. Sophia would’ve loved this place. She would be perched on the balcony with her sketchbook, scribbling away and absentmindedly picking at her nails.

“Why didn’t ya go with them? I’m sure Henry’s dad will miss you.” Daryl growled and picked at his nail.

The tension between Daryl and Ezekiel got worse when he limped on their way back yesterday, and Ezekiel offered to pay for a doctor to take a look at him. Carol knew he would refuse, and thankfully she had packed some first aid supplies because she knew this man too damn well.

Carol rolled her eyes. “I wanted to stay and take care of Lydia’s dad, so he understood.”

Daryl’s lips quirked up, summoning a flutter in her belly. What are we doing here, Daryl? She wanted to ask. They’d been tip-toeing around each other for years now. Or she thought they were. Maybe this is all they’d ever be – platonic best friends who lived together, who raised a daughter and lost another. Two people who let their touches linger too long, reached for each other when they were afraid, longed for each other when they were apart, and sometimes slept in each other’s arms but never crossed that line. Always something more, but never quite enough.

“Surprised he hasn’t asked ya out yet.”

Carol blinked at Daryl, wanting to point out the irony in what he’d said. Irritation coursed through her as the curry burbled away, and she decided to come clean about what had happened the previous evening.

“He did after dinner last night.”

“What?” Daryl looked like he’d been punched in the gut; Carol tried to ignore the twinge of guilt and failed.

Ezekiel had helped her load the dishwasher in the kitchen and asked her out before they retired to their rooms last night. He’d been a perfect gentleman – charming, respectful, and chivalrous. But all she’d thought about was how Daryl’s eyes had lingered on her lips before dinner when he’d told her she looked beautiful.

“I told him I’ll think about it.” They weren’t in a position to anger their host, even though she felt that Ezekiel would accept defeat graciously and not put them in an awkward position.

“Why didn’t ya say yes?”

“Why does it matter?”

Daryl’s behaviour was giving her whiplash. He practically undressed her with his eyes last night and almost launched himself at Ezekiel for complimenting her at dinner. Now, he was pushing her to date the man.

Daryl peered through his fringe, his eyes earnest. “He’s real charming, rich, generous, and clearly has a thing for ya.”

Carol crossed her arms. “If he’s so great, why don't you go out with him?”

“Pfft. Ain’t my type.”

“What is your type?” Carol raised her eyebrows, ignoring the heat that crept up her cheeks as Daryl’s eyes roamed her face and lingered on her lips before he pried his gaze away.

“Don’t change the subject. He’s corny and a bit pretentious, but he doesn’t seem like an asshole.”

“So, that’s what you want then? For me to date Ezekiel?” Her voice wavered, but she held his gaze, her anger now simmering to the surface and prickling at her eyes. Is that what he wanted? Then why did he look at her like that all the time — like he was afraid of losing her? Had she gotten this all wrong? Did she spend years pining after a man who was finally telling her he was not interested?

Daryl looked away. “I want ya to be happy. He’d treat you like a Queen and-”

“-I should get started on the appam.”

Carol went to the kitchen before the tears formed in her eyes, hating the open plan of the cottage where she could feel Daryl’s eyes follow her. Her hand reached for the pink bauble pendant resting on her chest. After Sophia died, they’d grown closer and built a wall between them at the same time. But when Lydia came into their lives, the wall started breaking down. She hoped, in time, they could pick up where they left off. Now, she didn’t know why she thought this vacation would be a new beginning for them. Daryl was never going to see her as anything but his best friend. She’d waited too long.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Daryl loved watching her cook. Her hair was tied up in a bun; she wore a loose Bowie t-shirt, baggy sweats, and soft fuzzy elf socks Lydia got for her last Christmas. The aroma of cardamom and chilli lingered in the air as she poured rice batter on a pan to make the rice crepes they called appam. He wished he could walk up and wrap his arms around her, kiss the nape of her neck and see if he could taste cardamom on her skin. I bet Ezekiel didn't think this hard before he made his move. He sighed.

Daryl didn’t know how many days he had left to savour her presence, reach for her hand when they walked up a crooked path and watch the sunrise wash over her freckles. She looked radiant last night in the blue dress that hugged her form and illuminated her eyes. He knew sooner or later, she’d meet a man who deserved her. I didn’t think it would be this soon. To think he’d hoped this vacation would give them time to figure out what their future looked like. Even if Daryl selfishly wished to be with her, Carol deserved someone who could offer her the world. Ezekiel sure as hell checked all the boxes.

Carol deserved all of this. Lavish vacations, a charming partner, and children who adored her – who were safe and in her arms. She deserved a comfortable life after everything she’d been through.

Daryl’s work as a contractor was unpredictable, and renting a cottage of this size for twelve days was out of the question. He thought the trip he’d taken her and Sophia on to the Grand Canyon had been extravagant because he’d spent a chunk of his savings to upgrade them to a big cabin with a mini-pool. Now Henry’s rich father entered the picture and showed him up with one effortless, generous gesture and an offhanded “We vacation here every summer”. The universe could’ve kicked him in the balls, and it would’ve hurt less.

Daryl walked into the kitchen and started slicing some red onions to soak in lemon juice because he needed something to do before his thoughts choked him. Carol’s eyes were far away when she held up a spoon so he could taste the curry; the heat from the spices hit him straight in the back of his throat and lingered on his palate.

“Why did you stay after Sophia died?”

Daryl coughed. “What?”

“You heard me.”

It didn’t even occur to him to leave after Sophia died. When he’d rented the basement apartment in Carol’s house all those years ago, he only wanted a cheap place to rest his head as he went through trade school. Daryl hadn’t expected to fall so deeply in love with Carol and co-parent her child with her. Before he knew it, he'd moved upstairs into the spare room, and he walked the kid to school every day and helped with her homework. He’d come to love Sophia like she was his own daughter. When she died, he and Carol had anchored each other through their shared grief over the loss of their little girl. Then, another kid walked through the doors, and they were given another chance.

“I loved that kid. I know Sophia wasn’t mine, but she was.” He didn’t expect his voice to break as his eyes lingered on Carol's pink bauble necklace.

“I know. But that’s not what I asked.” her voice was soft, her eyes crystal in the afternoon light – she was crying in the kitchen when he was busy leering at her. He wanted to kick himself for being an idiot again.

Carol pinned him with her gaze. “Why’d you stay?”

“Why didn’t ya say yes to Ezekiel?” he deflected.

“I’m not interested in him.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t love him.” Carol’s voice was a desperate whisper. “Ezekiel wasn’t the one who held me through my grief. He didn’t take my daughter trick-or-treating or scour ten game stores to find the obscure video game she wanted. He didn’t make her chicken soup with alphabet pasta when she was sick. He didn’t treat me and my daughter like we were the center of his universe-” Carol’s voice broke, and she wiped her tears.

“Carol-”

“-I thought we were on the same page, Daryl, and hoped we’d have a stroke of luck with the change of scenery, but I guess I was wrong.”

Did she really not know? Had he not been clear enough about how he felt? He loved her so much he’d let her walk into a pretentious rich guy’s arms—shit. As he played the thoughts over in his mind, he realized how they must’ve sounded out loud. I fucked up. Words chased each other in his mind as he struggled to explain.

“Our luck’s run out,” Carol sighed and turned to leave.

Before he could think too hard, he pulled her close and kissed her. Her lips tasted of cardamom, and her. Carol. A small part of his mind worried about her shoving him away, but instead, she melted in his embrace and drew him in for more.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

His lips were softer than she’d imagined. He kissed her deeply and slowly like he had all the time in the world. His hands were everywhere – caressing her face, gripping her waist, tangled in her hair – like he was tracing her silhouette in his memory. When they came up for air, her mind was molasses, and her thoughts returned to her slowly. He traced her jawline with a featherlight touch and looked at her like he worried she would disappear. Carol blinked away the tears and ran a finger alongside the butterfly bandages on his face. Their eyes met, and he held her hand to his cheek and kissed it.

“Why’d you stay?” she asked again.

“I stayed because I belong with you.”

There was nothing else she could say but kiss him again and wonder why she hadn’t done it sooner.

“Why did you tell me to date Ezekiel?” she asked between kisses.

“I’m an idiot.” He kissed her back.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After their make-out session, they took a quick break to catch a breath and have lunch – a bowl of fish curry with rice crepes or appam. They’d been eating spicy food for days, and he always regretted it in the morning, but that didn't stop him. He dove in immediately, savouring every bite as the sharp taste of chilli and cardamom hit his palate. Sooo good. He could still taste the fish, and it melted in his mouth. He couldn’t slow down if he tried, so he helped himself to a red onion slice soaked in lemon juice and hummed as the acid cut through the savoury richness of the curry.

Carol watched him with a smile – her gaze soft and open. Most of her hair had escaped the bun, her cheeks were flushed, and her lips looked swollen and kissable. His brain short-circuited; he didn’t know whether to continue eating the curry or kiss her. She solved his problem by scooping some fish with the appam and feeding it to him; Daryl held her gaze as he ate and licked the pads of her fingers with his tongue.

He didn’t know which one of them closed the gap. He didn’t care because he was kissing the woman he loved. His hands pulled her close, and her fingers grabbed his hair as they stumbled toward her bedroom. The taste of cardamon and curry lingered on his tongue as he pressed openmouthed kisses to her neck.

“Your lips taste spicy, Pookie.”

“Thought you like it when I’m spicy.”

Her laughter bounced off the walls as he kicked the bedroom door shut behind him.

_________________________________________________________

A few notes:

Munnar: Munnar is a hillstation in India’s Kerala state. It's surrounded by rolling hills dotted with tea, coffee, and cardamom plantations.

Appam: Appam is a thin and lacy fermented rice pancake. Traditionally, it’s eaten with stew or coconut chutney.

Pomfret: This delicate white fish is a staple in coastal regions of India.

Fish curry recipe for the curious minds (if you plan on making it, please don’t forget to marinate your protein).

#caryl #carol x daryl #daryl x carol #caryl is endgame #caryl positivity #carol peletier #daryl dixon #twd caryl #caryl prompt fill #caryl one-shot #caryl fanfiction #caryl: my short fics and one shots

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thissortofsorcery · 3 months ago

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Hiii, Gabii 💕

For the soft fic prompt meme:

14. Phone calls

and/or

17. fixing the other persons clothes absentmindedly or like tucking their hair behind their ear U KNOW WHAT I MEAN THAT SOFT STUFF

Thank you 🫶

YAM I FINISHED IT

I'm sorry it took me so damn long to fill this prompt for you. I know you like it when they're soft! I hope you like this one.

Steve never feels more grown-up than when he and Billy cook together.

It started during senior year — as a dare, of all things. They weren’t even together then, Billy hiding behind a wall of toxic masculinity to protect himself from Neil. He still tracked Steve’s every movement with his eyes. Steve was completely oblivious to his feelings and why his gut twisted every time Billy gave girls that look of his.

“I doubt you can cook anything with the shit you got in your house, pretty boy,” Billy had said, lip curling derisively at the content of Steve’s fridge. “When’s the last time you bought groceries?”

Steve proceeded to cook the best improvised scramble he’d ever done out of sheer determination to make Billy eat his words. He’d had no idea it would turn out good when he started. Usually, his cooking attempts had a 50/50 chance of turning out wonderful or having to be tossed based on the smell alone.

Two years later, and Steve’s a lot better at cooking. He can make all the basics and some fancy stuff, too, with Billy or on his own — but the favorite meals are the ones he and Billy cook together, arms brushing, hips bumping each other out of the way, spoons being offered to taste.

Cooking together is mostly a weekend thing since their shifts end hours apart. Steve’s used to fixing something up quick when he gets home from work so it’s ready by the time Billy is done at the garage. Saturday and Sunday are the days they go all out.

So Steve is caught off guard when his phone rings fifteen minutes before his shift ends on a Wednesday, and it’s Billy calling.

“I wanna try making Ceviche,” is what Billy says, skipping the ‘hello’ and going straight to the point. “So, do you want fish or shrimp?”

“You want to make what?” Steve frowns, barely recognizing the name. He flails toward his work computer to open Google, but he doesn’t know how to spell it out. “Wait, where are you?”

“At the grocery store, Harrington. Keep up,” Billy snarks affectionately. “It’s, like, cooking fish with lemon juice. It’s great.”

“What are you doing at the grocery store?”

“I got off work early. Fish or shrimp, Steve, come on.”

“You know how to make this thing?” Steve says. He’s known Billy long enough that he doesn’t doubt Billy’s cooking skills, but he’s never heard of this dish before or that Billy had and liked it.

“Yeah, pretty boy, it’s called YouTube. It has cherry tomatoes in it; you like those.”

Steve grins. “I do,” he says. “Go with fish, I guess.”

“Great,” Billy says and hangs up immediately. Steve smiles at his phone for no reason.

He’s home half an hour later, and he finds Billy at the kitchen counter already, dicing up the fish fillets into little cubes. Billy’s freshly showered, his work clothes traded for soft sweatpants and a tank top. Steve stops to admire the curve of his strong shoulders and the swell of his biceps, his eyes following the familiar expanse of golden skin that still makes his heart flutter years later.

“Hey,” Steve says, announcing himself as he enters the kitchen, so Billy has time to put the knife down before Steve hugs him from behind. Steve buries his nose in Billy’s shoulder, breathing deeply. Billy leans back against him, humming contentedly as Steve strokes Billy’s sides.

“Hi,” Billy says. “I’d hug you back, but my hands are gross.”

Steve kisses Billy’s shoulder and snorts. “It’s fine. How can I help?”

“Can you get started on the garlic?” Billy directs. Steve follows, and they fall into a familiar dance in their tiny kitchen, sharing counter space and anecdotes about their days.

Cooking together is peaceful, the way few things in their lives have been, and Steve lets the feeling of home and family wash over him. His shoulders relax, and the headache that’s been threatening to bloom in his right temple fades away, insignificant in the face of Billy’s laughter at Steve’s impressions of his coworkers.

A light touch to Steve’s forehead makes him blink. He looks away from the lemons he’s squeezing to find Billy brushing away a lock of hair that had started poking Steve in the eye the second he got lemon juice all over his hands. Billy’s hand is light, his fingertips soft as he tucks Steve’s hair behind his ear, and a pleasant shiver goes down Steve’s spine.

“Thanks,” Steve says, a dumb smile on his face. Billy’s eyes are soft, watching Steve with familiar warmth.

“Anytime, pretty boy.”

The quiet, gentle gesture spreads warmth in Steve’s chest, down his spine, down his arms, all the way to his sticky fingertips. There have been thousands of them over the years they’ve been together, but they never fail to make Steve blush and duck his head like a preteen. They’re affectionate with each other really often, but there’s something about finding the space to have these little moments in the middle of doing mundane, everyday things that strikes a deep chord in Steve.

“I love you.” The words escape Steve’s lips, the reflection of a feeling so natural to him that they’re behind every other sentence he says.

The corner of Billy’s mouth ticks up, expression morphing into what used to be a smug smirk when he was younger, and now is a soft, fond expression that’s only ever aimed at a very select group of people.

“Sap,” is what Billy says, but the warmth in his tone is clear.

“I know you like it,” Steve teases, smiling.

“What I’d like is for you to be done with those lemons,” Billy snarks, his elbow brushing Steve’s.

“Alright, alright,” Steve laughs. “I’m done.”

When they’re finished, and the glass tray is in the fridge, Billy pulls Steve to the couch so they can make out for the hour it takes for the lemon juice to cook the fish. And it comes out pretty damn good — though Steve’s pretty sure he’s biased, only because he and Billy made it together.

#harringrove #billy x steve #billy hargrove #steve harrington #harringrove fic #prompt fill #sorcery writes

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katyawriteswhump · 4 months ago

Text

the freak in the penthouse, part 5.1

accidental millionaire eddie/sex-worker steve. E-rated (overall for sexual content, this part M) CW: contains references to past abuse

On tumblr: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3.1 Part 3.2 Part 4.1 Part 4.2

On AO3

5.1 Newsflash

“Jesus, how many times do I have to tell you, Robin? Eddie genuinely is the best thing that’s happened to me in a fucking age.”

“No way, shit-bird.” Robin grabbed Steve’s arm. He let her drag him back into the kitchen. She poured him a glass of milk, dumped it on a counter. She glared meaningfully at it then proceeded to butcher a pile of herbs.

“You like that Eddie guy too much,” she whispered, chopping madly, which always made Steve nervous. This week, she’d already gotten band-aids on three fingers. “What do you really know about him? Or him about you?”

“What kinda dumb question is that?” He whispered too, though the kitchen was otherwise empty.

“You’ve spent over a fortnight with him!”

“So? Look, I honestly think I’ve made a difference to his life. When we first hooked up, he was mopey and depressed. He’s totally pepped up.”

Or it could be all the sex and booze acting as his band-aid.

She paused in her chopping. “What’s he done for you?”

He makes me happier, too. Bite me.

Robin didn’t look in the mood for that kind of bull. She plucked a banana from a bowl and dumped it down beside his untouched milk.

“You know I like looking after people.” He picked up the banana. “I’ve got my meds and I’ve paid off most of my debts.”

“You told him about that, huh? Why you need the money so badly?”

“Get real, Robin. What was I supposed to say—'Hey, Eds. I’m your friendly neighborhood asthmatic call-boy.’” He stuffed the banana in his mouth.

“No. I mean, how your trust-fund went bye-bye, and what that horrible lawyer did to you.”

“Jesus, Robin. No!” He swallowed quickly before he spluttered all over her. “It’s not exactly a turn-on. Mommy and Daddy were loaded, and I was their coddled brat who’d been told he’d never want for anything. Before they went and inconveniently died.” He always impressed himself when he got that word out without a hitch, though it never came without a pang. “Then it turned out my trust fund was in debt. So my dad’s lawyer got me working it off with my ass, passing me around his friends. Then I finally got away, got a shitty job as a shitty bellhop… and caught pneumonia. In LA. Nobody catches pneumonia in LA! I mean, it’s beyond pathetic.”

“It’s tragic, Steve, and it’s not your fault. I honestly still don’t know how a trust fund can be in debt."

“Look, it’s over.” He took a glug of the milk and met her scowl with a cutting one of his own. “I’ll be able to rent somewhere of my own when he’s through with me.”

“Yeah, and I wouldn’t worry so much, but you look waaaay too sad when you say that. Be careful Steve. I don’t wanna have to stab lover-boy’s eyes out with an ice-pick.”

“Don’t you dare. His eyes are dazzling.”

She harrumphed despairingly then drew a key out of her apron pocket and dumped it by the banana skin. “My roomie is away. Get some sleep, or heaven help me, Steve, I got a filleting knife here with your name on it.”

…

Eddie was poring over his game notes—sucking on a cigarette and stressing his pants off. Someone knocked loudly on the door. A jerk in a three-piece suit, who Eddie vaguely recognised, let himself in.

“Mr Munson, I’m terribly sorry to disturb you.” The newcomer offered a preening smile. “I’m Larry Kline, head concierge here at the Beverly Hills Yorkshire. We met briefly when you checked in last month.”

“Right.” He unenthusiastically shook Kline’s outstretched hand. Kline’s beady eyes slid around the room. “Uuuuuh, is there a problem?”

“Have you had company staying here, Sir?”

“What’s it to you?”

“You are supposed to sign in extra guests, Sir. But seeing as you’re a very special guest, we can overlook—”

“Look, man, nobody else is staying here.” He turned away, stubbed out his smoke in frustration. “Is that why you’ve come to play ‘persecute the freak?’”

Kline’s hand flew to his chest in an attempt at mortification that reminded Eddie what an amazing actor Steve was. Steve’s douchiest fluttering of his lashes never looked that fake: “It was not my intention to offend, Sir. Please accept my sincerest apologies.”

“Accepted,” muttered Eddie, wishing he’d get lost.

Kline cleared his throat. “I am here, ahem…”

About how I’ve made your sleazy hotel stink like good ol’ Reefer Rick’s?

Kline presented a silver ashtray with a couple of mints and a scrap of paper. “It’s a delicate matter concerning your check this week, Mister Munson. I’m sure it’s just an error at your bank, but it’s bounced.”

“What?”

Kline put down the ashtray on the doily-covered occasional table. “It hasn’t been paid.”

“That’s gotta be a mistake.” Eddie found himself fiddling madly with his rings. There’d been a fat row of numbers on that check from the gaming company—he was richer than God! Apart from the house he’d bought for his uncle, he’d not gone too mental. Okay, there was the collectors’ guitars, the studio time, the… penthouse.

He got rid of Kline with a mumbled promise that he’d call the bank. He’d have to find his check-book to find the number. He stared at the phone, a ghastly turquoise monstrosity with a golden handset. And then at the mints in the ashtray, under which was tucked an invoice for 8,347 dollars and twelve cents.

He stared at it, unmoving, for a long time.

Then he ate the mints and tucked the invoice under the phone. He’d call Dustin. Later.

...

5.2 on tumblr .... On AO3

I've added a hashtag #thefreakinthepenthouse for ease of finding the earlier parts. I am very happy to tag usernames if anybody is interested... please let me know.

Thank you for reading. Likes reblogs and comments much appreciated and will feed the bunnies🐰💕🐰💕🐰💕🐰💕

On tumblr: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3.1 Part 3.2 Part 4.1 Part 4.2

On AO3 All my ST stuff on AO3

#thefreakinthepenthouse #steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve and eddie #steve harrington fanart #steve harrington hurt/comfort #steve harrington whump #steve x eddie

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theoutcastrogue · 1 year ago

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19th century Sheffield bowie knives

A HUNTING KNIFE, JOSEPH RODGERS & SONS CUTLERS TO HER MAJESTY, SHEFFIELD, CIRCA 1860 with tapering blade formed with a spear point, stamped with the maker’s details on one face, and ‘The Hunter’s Companion’ in script, rectangular ricasso struck with star and cross mark, German silver hilt comprising recurved quillons with flattened scrolling terminals, cap pommel (fitted with later copper alloy oval), and spirally-bound fishskin-covered grip, in its leather scabbard with German silver chape and locket, the latter with a belt hook, 23.5 cm blade

A HUNTING KNIFE FOR THE AMERICAN MARKET, MAPPIN & WEBB, SHEFFIELD, CIRCA 1880 with robust blade formed with a clipped-back point with false swage, notched at the forte, stamped ‘Celebrated American Hunting Knife’ in capital letters, ‘Self Defender’ in script on a scroll, rectangular ricasso stamped with the maker’s name and ‘Trustworthy’ on one face of the ricasso and ‘US’ on the other, German silver oval cross-piece and chequered horn scales retained by six rivets, in its German silver mounted leather scabbard with locket and chape each engraved with groups of three lines, and the former with a stud for suspension, 25.3 cm blade

A BOWIE KNIFE, LATE 19TH CENTURY with single-edged blade formed with a pronounced clipped-back point, etched with a Federal eagle and inscriptions on one face including ‘America The Land of Freedom’ and 'The Patriot’s Self Defender’, recessed ricasso stamped ‘Best Quality Rough & Ready’ German silver guard, ferrule and pommel, the latter chased with flowers, and rosewood grip, in its tooled leather scabbard, 19.8 cm blade

A SMALL BOWIE KNIFE, JONATHAN CROOKES, SHEFFIELD, LATE 19TH CENTURY with broad blade formed with a clipped-back point, recessed rectangular ricasso struck with the maker’s name and heart and pistol mark, German silver hilt comprising recurved guard, ferrule and pommel each decorated with scrolling foliage in low relief, and mother-of-pearl grip, in its German silver mounted leather scabbard with belt loop,14.5 cm blade

A BOWIE KNIFE, JONATHAN CROOKES, CIRCA 1880 with straight blade formed with a clipped-back point, slightly recessed rectangular ricasso signed by the maker and with heart and pistol mark, and natural staghorn grips (perhaps an early replacement), 15.3 cm blade

A BOWIE KNIFE, JOSEPH RODGERS & SONS, CUTLERS TO THEIR MAJESTIES, NO. 6 NORFOLK STREET, SHEFFIELD, LAST QUARTER OF THE 19TH CENTURY with broad blade formed with a clipped-back point, struck with the maker’s details and star and cross mark on one face (small areas of light pitting), oval German silver guard, and natural staghorn scales retained by five rivets, in its leather scabbard with large German silver locket and chape, 20.8 cm blade

A DAGGER, MARKED MAZEPPA, PROBABLY SAMUEL HANCOCK & SONS, LATE 19TH CENTURY with broad blade formed with a clipped-back point, recessed ricasso struck with a figure strapped to a horse’s back and ‘Mazeppa’ on one face, German silver hilt cast in low relief, comprising guard and pommel decorated with scrolls, milled copper alloy fillers and hardwood scales, in its tooled and gilt leather scabbard,17.2 cm blade

A BOWIE KNIFE, LINGARD, PEACROFT, SHEFFIELD, PROBABLY 1870 with single-edged blade formed with a clipped-back point and part swaged back-edge, rectangular ricasso stamped ‘Lingards Celebrated Bowie Knife Pea Croft, Sheffield’, German silver hilt comprising two-piece guard and pommel each cast with scrolls and foliage in low relief, brass fillets, staghorn scales, and vacant German silver escutcheon, 21.0 cm blade

AN ARKANSAS BOWIE KNIFE, MORTON & SON, SHEFFIELD, CIRCA 1850-60 with tapering blade of flattened-diamond section, recessed rectangular ricasso struck with the maker’s details (worn, partly illegible), German silver hilt comprising ‘split’ cross-guard and two-piece pommel each decorated with scrolls and foliage in low relief, and a pair of small bone scales retained by two rivets, 22.7 cm blade

A BOWIE KNIFE, WRAGG & SONS, SOLLY ST, MID-19TH CENTURY with broad double-edged blade, recessed ricasso signed in small stamped letters, German silver cross-piece and pommel, the latter cast with an alligator-horse on each face, and horn scales (restorations), in its tooled and gilt leather scabbard with German silver mounts, 30.8 cm blade

tinyurl.com/yr4hd4pr

#tools of the trade #bowie knife #hunting knife #sheffield

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auraboo · 2 months ago

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13: In the chestnut grove

Destiny, writ in flames. Love, forged with blood.

Genre: high fantasy, romance, LGBT/queer Keywords: enemies to lovers, slowburn, m/m, drama, adventure Rating: for mature audiences (+18) Release schedule: every other Wednesday

”Well, I’m sure you tried your best. How they look doesn’t affect the taste, at least,” she said, turning the roughly cut fillets to join the fruit cubes on the pan. Ren’i turned his reddened face elsewhere and tried not to see Onniar, who was shaking with silent laughter.

”Sorry,” Ren’i mumbled.

Silverbrook flashed him a wide grin. ”Don’t mind her. The important thing is that you’re helping.”

”That ill-tempered captain will be none too happy when he learns that you’ve turned his prince into a kitchenhand,” Onniar pointed out, shaking his peeling knife in their direction.

Silverbrook looked around, then shrugged. ”How odd. I don’t see anyone here but two sweaty hunters who gossip more than work. Where on earth have you seen a prince?”

Ren’i couldn’t stop himself from laughing.

Direct link in the comments!

#the threefold soul #webnovel #slowburn #enemies to lovers #m/m romance #sick of ai garbage? support real fiction written by an actual real living human writer instead!

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kitchenbestseller · 1 year ago

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#Best Fillet Knife: The Best Blades for Precision Filleting in 2023 #https://kitchenbestseller.com/home/best-fillet-knife/#kitchenbestseller #bestfilletknife

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spahhzy · 1 year ago

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Danger is your friend~

If Ashley's glare could kill from across the room, Julia would have been dead a thousand times over.

Gripping at her drink a little too tightly as she saw that whore latch herself onto her brother, Andrew, arm like the snake she was. A million dark thoughts crossed her mind as she watched the two just converse. Andrew looked passive as ever and a happy and smiling Julia.

"Hey Ashley, why don't you come over and play some party games with us?" said one of the party goers as she looked at the various drinking games being played.

She looked back to where Andrew and that...person was before suddenly getting a really dark idea.

"A drinking game sounds fun, I have just the thing too. Can I bring my brother and his girlfriend along too?" Ashley asked with fake sweetness and the party goers just shrugged.

"More the merrier, I suppose, and what game do you have in mind?" They asked, and Ashley let out a mischievous smile but said nothing as she went to go get her brother.

"I really am glad you came out to the party tonight, Andrew." Green eyes looked back to glimmering yellow as Julia looked happy at him.

"It's nothing" was all he said as he went back to watching his sister out of the corner of his eye.

"You know this is honestly the first time I've seen your sister in a public event like this" said Julia as she looked at Ashley who was talking to another party goer.

'Mmm,' was all Andrew said as Julia wrapped her arms around his neck and put her forehead to his as Andrew let his hands linger on her waist.

They stayed like that for a good minute, Julia just enjoying the warmth, and Andrew trying his best not to imagine a certain someone else in her place.

"Ahem"

Julia jumped off Andrew in startlement as she looked at the glare she got from one Ashely Graves.

"What's up, pest?" Andrew asked as suddenly the glare she was giving Julia 180 to a happy smile towards Andrew.

"Oh Andy~ I have a game I want you and Julia to be apart in" Ashley said in a sing-song voice.

'Ah hell she is upset,' Andrew thought to himself as he noticed that angry glare at Julia moments earlier.

"Actually Ashley uh me and Andrrw were probably going to go-"

"Ah, come on, it's just a couple rounds it will take no little of your times, then you can go back to being lovey dovey after." Andrew could feel the sarcasm dripping from Ashley words as his sister looked at him with a pout.

"Please, Andy."

Don't look at her lips, Andrew

Don't look at her smile, Andrew.

He looked.

Fuuuuuck.

"Sure"

"Yay~" cheered Ashley as Julia just sighed.

"So what game do you have us playing?" Asked Julia as they came up to a smile crowd in the kitchen.

"Ashley I got the table and cutting board set up uh...you sure this is a drinking game" said that same party goer that was woth Ashley earlier, Andrew made a mental note to have a 'chat' woth them afterwards.

"Oh yes, thank you," She said as finally the group came to a small table set up with one knife in the middle on a cutting board and bottle of whiskey.

"Alright, looks like the contestants are here," announced Ashley as she took her place on one end of the table before dramtically pointing a finger at Julia.

"I, Ashley Graves, herby challenge Julia to a game of Five Finger Fillet' .

Leyley-Sidequest- titled: Five Finger Filleting this brother stealing bitch!

Julia looked at Ashley, who had grabbed the knife from cutting board.

"I uh decline?" She said not at all interested in playing any game Ashley cooked up and not at all liking the look she gave her with that knife in hand.

"Oh, come on, stop being a wimp it's very easy how many rotation within sixty seconds you can do without nicking your hand as you go faster and faster," Ashley explained, and Julia still looked very uncomfortable.

"I'm fine, Ashley. we can play something else that doesn't involve you know knives!" Said Julia trying to reason woth Ashley but the younger graves sister wouldn't have it.

"Come on, don't you want to prove to my brother how great you are?" Julia heard that sarcastic tone, but she wouldn't be tricked by Ashley.

"I'm good Ashley- no need to -

"I'll play in her place," Andrew said much to Julia's shock as he stepped forward, shrugging off his coat and handing it to Julia, who looked a bit worried but Ashley was all too pleased.

"Ooh is big brother coming to his girls' rescue how romantic," Ashley said as both her and Andrew sat down from across each other.

"I'll set the tempo, my dear Andrew" Ashley said as she took a shot of whiskey, and Andrew used his phone to set the timer.

Slow at first as the knife landed on the wooden surface between Ashley's fingers as Andrew stared intensely at his sister.

Soon, she began to pick up the pace, going faster and faster, the blade dancing around her fingers almost as if afraid to incur the wrath of the gaze of the wielders brother.

30 seconds had passed, and so far, five rotations that Ashley had managed without so much as a nick to her skin.

Julia could only watch the knife dance back and forth as the crowd around her spoke in hushed amazement.

Soon, one minute had passed, and Ashley smiled smugly before slamming the knife into the cutting board.

"10 rotations Andy~beat that," Ashley said playfully as her pink eyes gazed hazily at Andrew's green.

Staring at her still Andrew rose from his seat and yanked the knife from Ashley's cutting board before taking a shot of whiskey for himself, the liquid burning his throat as he sat down and shut his eyes for a second and reopened them with a smirk.

Placing his hand on the cutting board, Andrew began his turn.

Julia watched with baited breath as Andrew worked the knife with skill as the blade landed between his fingers, going faster and faster, and on top of that he was already at eight rotations and was close to beating Ashley but Julia caught one little detail that made her feel uneasy.

As Andrew was playing... all this time, he kept his eyes locked onto Ashley, whomst didn't even look away, and now that she looked a little closer at the younger sibling...

Was Ashley...biting her lip?

Was she also blushing?

She looked at Andrew, who also had a little pink dust on his cheek.

Whatever was happening, Julia needed to put a stop to it. She looked at the time clock to see it was at 45 seconds, just 15 more to go, and this game will be over.

Or that would be the case if...

"Mmmmm" moaned Ashley, which caused Andrew to stem him off guard a bit before suddenly.

"Ouch." Andrew looked down at the small little cut he made on his index finger he was at 9 rotations...

"Yeeees! I beat you, Andy!" Shouted Ashley in victory as Andrew just gave her a small glare and grumbled as he wrapped a small napkin on his cut.

Julia, worried, looked at Andrew's cut.

"It will be okay, Julia," Andrew said to her, but before she could say anything else.

Ashley came in between them and grabbed Andrew's bad hand.

"It's time to go home now, big brother, don't you think?" Ashley said innocently before looking behind at Julia.

"Since you lost, you can go home by yourself" and before Julia could say anything else.

"I'm sorry Julia, it seems Ashley is ready to go home, I'll fetch you a taxi if you're not feeling confident to go home by yourself," Andrew offered and Julia just sighed before shaking her head.

"I'm fine," Andrew was not convinced but didn't want to say anything. Have her a small hug and a kiss on the side of her head, but let go when he felt Ashley's nails dig into the palm of his hand.

"Have a good night, Julia." He waved at her before following Ashley out the door. Julia sighed for lords know how many times tonight before suddenly Ashley raced back into the room and looked at Julia before snatching her brother coat out of her hands and putting it on her self.

Julia just watched her leave back out through the door.

In the car ride home to the apartment, Andrew just drove as Ashley snuggled up to her Andy's jacket, enjoying the scent, warmth, and security it gave her.

Andrew just looked over out of the corner of his eye at his sister.

Wincing a bit from the cut on his finger, Andrew groaned, just wanting to get home and sleep until suddenly a hand grabbed his finger gently.

Andrew held in a breath as he watched as his sister put the single digit to her lips and kissed it gently, some of his blood lacing her lips as she licked it off before giving her brother a smile.

"All better~"

Andrew let out his breath, glad that road was empty as he was currently driving on the opposite side.

What will Andy ever do with Leyley?

#andrew graves #ashley graves #coffincest #the coffin of andy and leyley #julia tcoaal

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