#wasn't sure whether to put some pages under a break or not | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

captainjamster · 3 months

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hi i have a request Price gives stress relief to reader

if youre too busy thats fine

i absolutely read your username instead of price and started writing for graves until i realised, so uhhh... this idea but with phil coming at some point! also wasn't sure if you meant stress relief or stress relief, so this gets nsfw!!

thank u for the ask my little sunshine i hope you enjoy, i am never too busy for a request, especially not from a fellow graves lover <3

Pairing(s): Price x AFAB!reader (no gendered nicknames or pronouns) Warnings: NSFW, fingering, light dirty talk Wordcount: 2.2k Summary: Price gives you a hand winding down after a frustrating day at work, though mutual satisfaction is on his mind. AO3 Link: Right here <3

Full fic is under the cut <3

The pages rustle as John flickers through them, smoothing out with the tapping of your phone to create a peaceful, white noise. Yet despite the atmosphere, a heavy weight presses on your chest, brow furrowed and shoulders tight as you scroll through your apps. You can feel John's eyes on you, taking in your sullen form as you glare a hole into your screen.

"You're quiet, love."

John breaks the silence, looking down at his book again. You take a moment to compile a response, debating whether to delve into the frustrations of your week.

"Just a day, I guess."

He takes in the short, avoidant answer, thumbing the pages of his book. "Don't want to talk about it?"

"I don’t know. Not really."

John looks at you again, and this time, you turn to him too.

"Can I hold you?"

You nod, not trusting your voice. The moment your head inches forward, the book thuds onto his bedside table with a careless toss, immediately spreading his arms open. "C'mere, sweetheart."

You crawl into his lap, curling up and sinking into him. His arms wrap around you reflexively, bringing your head to rest against the bristle of his chest, the other arm rubbing up and down your back. He doesn't press the subject, just sets a steady pace to inhale and exhale with, rocking you softly with each breath.

After a few minutes, you initiate conversation yourself, mumbling against the skin of his sternum.

"So... Shit. Everything is so shit."

"Shit, love?"

You rub your cheek against his chest hair as you nod. "I hate people."

"Yeah?"

Drawing in a sharp breath, the feeling of burning frustration reignites in your lower stomach as you spill out an angry tirade. "God, I just want to tear their fucking heads off sometimes! I want one day, just one day, where I can speak my mind. I could ask them "oh, I'm sorry, is your fucking price wrong? Okay, now is it MY fault or YOUR fault that you didn't check the coupon was in date before you used it?" Maybe their fucking brains would start working if I didn’t have to just smile and say “yes customer, no customer! Whatever you want customer!” like the stupidest shit didn’t just come out their mouth!”

You turn, back pressed to his stomach as you gesture agitatedly. "I can't stand it! "Oh, oh! I dropped this jar and now it's cracked! Can I get it for free? Oh, my kid ate half of this apple, but he doesn't want it, so I'll just put it back on display! Let's berate this minimum-wage worker because the line was slightly long at midday, like they have any control over that!" Like, why do people become such monsters whenever they step foot into a store? My friend from that clothing shop down the street? She said someone tried to return a whole bag of dirty underwear, like what the fuck?"

Huffing, your jaw clenches tight as you cross your legs, flopping your head back against his shoulder dramatically.

"I'm sorry, baby." He murmurs lowly, running his hands up your arms, digging his thumbs into the tense flesh of your shoulder. "S'not fair, you deserve to be treated better than that, your friend too."

You soften into his arms, biting at the inside of your cheek. “I just wanna quit. Management sucks, everyone else working there is just as miserable. No wonder their turnover rate is so high.”

John’s hand drops down from your shoulder, running past your chest to rest against your midriff. "Always can, doll. Put in your two weeks, live off what I've got in the bank 'til y'find a better position. Y'know I'd let you never work a day in your life, if you'd let me."

His tone is gentle and passive, content in his reminder with your desire to keep financial independence and stay busy when he leaves for deployment. The room falls into silence again as you nestle into an arm, manoeuvring it to rest over your chest like a seatbelt and clip between your legs. His other arm rests along the length of your leg, and you feel him lean his weight back against the bed’s head as you continue thinking, playing with his arm hair absent-mindedly. John is content to let you fiddle away, his hand caught in the grip of your thighs comfortably, thumb traces little circles against the skin it rests between.

His body shifts underneath you after a few minutes of quiet, readjusting to move closer. You’re suddenly flush against him as he sits up, pulling you tighter against his soft, sturdy chest and pressing a kiss to the back of your head. The movement surprises a squeak out of you, squirming before a pressure against the crotch of your underwear stills you. Warm air brushes against your hair as John huffs in amusement, readjusting the hand cupped against your sex in an effort to tug you closer, intentionally positioning his hand to spread and fully cover your mound.

"John..."

He hums in response against your neck, lips pressed into the skin.

"Your hand."

"My hand, dove?" He pulls away, leaving one last kiss behind your ear.

"It's, ahhh...”

He flexes his fingers tighter for a second, the increase in pressure barely stimulating the sensitive nerves beneath. “What? Just movin’ you closer, ‘n my hand’s nice and warm down there.”

The playfully avoidant answer earns him an exasperated groan, though the desire seeping into you leaves it breathier than you’d like.

“Want me to stop?”

You shake your head before he can finish the sentence, grip tightening on his forearm. The vibration of his chuckles jostles you against his torso, warming your cheeks. Before you can exclaim your embarrassment, he shifts under the blankets and nudges your legs open, his feet hooking round your ankles to pin them apart. “How about some stress relief, hm? Get all those yucky feelings out for the night.”

His fingers trail teasingly against the hemline of your elastic, running his nails over the soft fat that meets the cotton barrier. All it takes is a “yes, please” for his fingers to breach the elastic, honing to your entrance only to glide back up the damp skin of your lips. At your whining insistence, his fingers deftly pull your lips apart, using his middle finger to collect the slick gathering between your folds and lather it against your clit. Your hips jerk at the contact, and John tuts, chasing your hips to flick his thumb over the sensitive button. “Askin’ for it, but y’won’t sit still, huh? Jus’ wanna help my baby feel better.”

Moving his arm to cup your chest, his hand crawls under your shirt to pinch your nipple, sending shivers down your spine as he rolls it between his fingers. Your whimpers only egg him on, emboldening him to trace little circles around your clit as he works to build the delicious tension growing between your legs.

Warmth flushes through your body, combining with the body heat radiating from John’s chest against your back, leaving you burning up in your own desire. It only takes minutes of John’s ministrations to draw wet squelches from between your legs, filling your ears as your eyes flutter closed, focusing on the way John’s fingers curl and tease around your most sensitive spot.

“John, please…”

He takes your unspoken request without argument, leaving the begging for another night as his fingers leave your swollen nub to graze against your needy entrance. Your hole twitches at the slight contact, clenching as if to draw him in, eliciting a chuckle from John that goes unchallenged in your distracted state. Catching a line of slick dribbling down your perineum, he guides it back up, coating his fingers before he dips a digit into your hole.

You hiss wantonly at the sensations, hips bucking up to urge his finger in deeper, and John tuts. “Keep still, needy thing. Tryna play with this pretty cunt properly.”

He teases you with a sole finger, crooking it to stroke against the spongey muscle that has you leaking with each pass. Despite the stimulation, the single digit leaves your needy cunt feeling empty, fluttering against the intrusion with a desperation until you’re mewling for more.

“I know, y’need more, pet,” he murmurs into the skin behind your ear, dropping kisses down to your jaw. “Let me take care of you.”

The thick finger retreats from within you, leaving you whining in complaint as your hips chase his touch. Your eager hips are met with a firm spank to your folds, leaving John’s fingers trailing with slick as you gasp and retreat to the mattress, back against the protruding bulge in his lap. The compliance is rewarded with a soothing swipe of his fingers along your stinging lips, collecting arousal against his calloused skin. His fingertips circle teasingly at your entrance again, tracing the quivering muscle as he chuckles at your reactivity. Sensing the protest rising in you, he silences it with a swift thrust of his fingers, filling you up again.

His fingers work like they were designed to coax the stress from you with each drag, replacing the tension with a buzzing need for release that has you flexing and relaxing in waves against him. The pressure builds in the pit of your stomach as his fingers pump in and out of you, his other hand abandoning your breast and travelling down to reclaim its spot nestled against your clit, rolling tight circles around the nerve ending in harmony with the drive of his digits. He masterfully orchestrates your undoing, timing each thrust with each involuntary grind of your hips, kissing the salt from your neck as your head lulls against his shoulder, panting.

“Fuck, right there, m’so close John,” you moan, hands fumbling to find something to grip, finding purchase in his hairy thighs. The way your nails sink into the meat of his muscle has him groaning in your ear, breaking his smooth rhythm with a particularly deep thrust as he struggles to contain his enthusiasm. “Fuck, sweetheart, my god.”

Your cunt tightens so fiercely around his fingers that you’re sure they’re being crushed together as your orgasm hits you, squeezing the digits like you could milk the life out of them if you tried hard enough. John hums praise against your neck as he waits for your walls to relax to resume lazily thrusting in and out through the last sparks your climax, his own breath laboured as you tremble in his embrace.

His hand remains between your legs, fingers snug within you as your breathing evens out, the other travelling to trace small circles on the inside of your thigh. You float on the high of your orgasm, sweaty and satisfied as the strain dissipate from your legs, relaxing against John’s.

“Any improvement?”

You give him a breathless giggle, pulling your eyes open to tilt back and look at him. “Yeah, don’t feel like decapitating someone anymore.”

“Good.” He gives you a pleased smile, dotting a kiss on the corners of your lips. His face is warm and flushed, eyes still hazy with lust as he looks down at you, which brings a thought to your mind.

“Do you want me to take care of you…?”

His expression flickers to something guarded behind the smile, gently disentangling himself from your body. “I’m fine, don’t worry,” he announces gruffly, clearing his throat as he ducks into the bathroom. You frown, gazing at his retreating figure as you shuck off your soiled underwear, waiting for his return. He re-emerges with a damp cloth, crawling across the bed to kneel between your still spread legs, wiping delicately at the mess of arousal sticking to the sensitive surface of your skin.

The cloth is slightly warm as he pats at any excess water, collecting your dirty underwear as he pulls away. Walking to the closet, he discards the used fabrics in the laundry basket, grabbing another pair of underwear for you. Readjusting the sheets and blankets, you watch him quickly tug off his boxers, grabbing another pair that he manages to pull around his knees before you gasp in realisation.

“John, you didn’t?”

He turns around with a bashful expression, tucking himself into the crotch as he grins. “What? Pretty thing like you grinding up against me like that, can’t help myself.” Giving up with discretion, he chucks his own soiled boxers into the basket, returning to the bed with your underwear in an outstretched hand.

You pull them on as he climbs in next to you, tucking himself under the covers as you turn off the lamp and join him. He raises his arm, holding the blankets up like a cave as you grin sleepily, shuffling across the sheets to scoot into his embrace. The covers descend on you as John takes care to tuck them underneath you, entangling your legs between his as his hand finds home in your hair.

“Thank you, John. Was feeling really shitty about that.” You whisper into his chest, blinking your eyes closed as a sleepy warmth grows heavy in your limbs.

John grunts, patting at your hair. “S’what I’m made for, lookin’ after you. Get some sleep 'n we’ll work everythin’ out in the morning.”

A smile tugs at your lips as the last whisps of consciousness fade from your mind, and a gruff I love you is the last thing you remember before falling asleep.

#this was meant to be 800 words but i just keep yappin #jams asks #jams writing #price x reader #john price x reader #price x you #john price x you #cod fanfic #call of duty fanfic

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kindlespice · 4 months

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🍉 actual hiatus 🍉

hi hi! so... it's been a while! *checks notes* i have not posted since august... of last year x.x i've been lurking around a bit occasionally dropping likes here and there, but for the most part been entirely absent. i feel like it's wayyyy past time for me to check-in, let everybody know i'm okay and all that jazz. but i am declaring this an actual hiatus now

tl;dr

i lost the simblr itch, i thought "surely it will come back" but it never came back and now i'm hyperfixating on other things.

i'm gonna put specifics under a read more if anyone's that interested in what i've been doing, what i will be doing, where i'll be hanging out now, etc. but it's really nothing big or major--just interests changing.

⭐ my content + patreon

(since it's kinda important and i want everyone to be able to see this) i'm not deleting this account and i'm still keeping my content up both on patreon and sfs! you will still be able to download things for free!!! i will be deleting my patreon tier! even though it was basically a donation tier, i feel bad keeping it up knowing i'm consciously not making more sims content (or being really active in the community) for the foreseeable future i'll be reaching out to existing patrons and making a similar post over there as well about the tier change!

i also wanna say thank you to everyone who's ever followed, donated, liked, commented, messaged, lurked or just been sweet and kind to me ❤️! simblr will always have a special place in my heart, so i don't think i'll ever leave leave, but i owe it to you guys to let you know that i'm making the conscious decision to be inactive for some time.

as a closing statement, fk isr*el and i am absolutely 100% without a doubt full stop

AGAINST GENOCIDE AND FOR A 🍉 FREE PALESTINE 🍉

you should be too if you're any kind of decent human being :)

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

⭐what will happen to my account?

nothing really. or at least nothing different from how it's been for the last year and some change XD like i said, i'm still keeping my blogs up, downloads won't move, etc. i am just committing to not actively posting content or really being on simblr that much. maybe i'll drop some likes or comments when the mood hits (like i have been), but not really much else. i guess if there's any questions about this i'll answer them since my active attention will be back on simblr for at least a few days while i clean some things up. i would like to do one last thing as a kind of parting gift at some point... i never did end up cleaning up my downloads page or organize the thumbs/sorting for my cc like i said i would so maybe i'll do that before it gets away from me again but i'm not making any promises

⭐why am i on hiatus?

nothing bad happened or anything, i just.... lost interest. I already wasn't really playing the game that much even when i was super active; i mostly just took pictures and did edits. but i just wasn't having as much fun as i used to, opening the game started feeling like a chore, i wasn't all that inspired to make content, etc. i've burnt out on simblr on many an occasion so i just took a break like i always do but it kept going...and going.......and going.........until i realized it had been FOREVER and i hadn't really felt the itch to create here during that time, it wasn't coming back, and i was having much more fun doing other stuff. the times i did consider coming back it was more bc i felt bad about not creating rather than any actual desire to create. so i had to think long and hard about whether or not i even really wanted to come back. and i flip-flopped for probably 6 months--trying to drum up creative projects and never committing--before coming to the conclusion that i think i just need to call it a hiatus XD

⭐what have i been up to?

annoying my family with boycott lists and making them buy alternatively :D bouncing back and forth between many different hyperfixations... i fell back down the skyrim rabbithole several times, genshin, stardew, acnh, made a million notion pages i'll never use--the usual suspects. BUT BG3! at one point i swore i was gonna come back end of july/early aug but then BG3 dropped early and it was over... i definitely did A LOT of heavy lurking here when the girlies were all posting GORGEOUS tavs omg... i spent a while getting ts3 up and running, even made a sideblog thinking "maybe i'll come back with ts3 content that would be cool!"... just to not end up playing and not using the sideblog and not coming back -.- 4LIENS were supposed to have a comeback like... 4 separate times and it just did not happen... i've been making a concerted effort to get back into drawing and art. i've been in a kind of... depression? slump? with it for years now; always feeling like it wasn't good enough, that i should be better since i'm so "gifted and talented", i should be monetizing it and not "wasting" all that skill, blah blah imposter syndrome blah blah getting frustrated when i'm not 100% perfect all the time blah blah feeling like a disappointment to my family blah blah... but i am HELLA sick and tired of having all this anxiety and fear surrounding something i used to love so much so i'm pushing through! i've been trying out lots of different mediums and actually using my sketchbooks and just generally trying to introduce more fun into the process and stop being so hard on myself all the time. i picked up crocheting for a bit. at this point i haven't touched it in so long i probably forgot how to do it but... maybe one day i'll make a blanket or smth I started journalling (relatively) regularly for a bit. i was feeling really down at several points throughout the year and i thought having daily entries would help combat the feeling like every day was just absolute shit. on the contrary, the majority of days are good--at worst mundane--the bad ones just tend to stick out more. trying to get back into reading again... i miss doing it for leisure and taking notes bc i want to and not because i have a 300 annotation school assignment :P and a whole bunch of other stuff probably but it's hard to remember every single thing that's been on my mind for 16 months lol

⭐what will i be doing / where can you find me now?

i'm hoping to start a webtoon/build up art socials in the new year as a part of my "reconnecting to art" process. i made some art socials @kbearie-art here and @/kbearie_art on insta, youtube, tiktok, and twitter; they're empty for now though bc i got scared the minute i made them and never posted anything -.- but i'll be real with you... twitter is a cesspool, and im not fond of tiktok so i think tumblr, insta and youtube will probably be where i'll dedicate my time i've been thinking about getting back into posting videos on youtube again just in general. in fact this thought was the final push for me to make this post bc i was like... if i post a video out of the blue with no word to simblr that would be fked up XD i play games all the time and i had such a fun time recording, learning to edit and stuff that i think i'd like to pursue that further. i wouldn't be doing sims related stuff though bc...well... i don't play anymore XD but other games ya know. my other youtube is kspice (the same place with my tutorials, speed edits, the acnh vid, etc.) if you'd be interested in that

and i guess that's pretty much it!

again, for at least the next couple of days i'll probably actively have my eyes on this post/simblr in general (and i am gonna clear out my inbox hopefully) so if you have questions i'd ask em quickly before i go back into hiding XD

thanks again, i love you guys, free palestine, and have a good new year! 🍉⭐💖

#now...#is it extra if i change my theme right before i leave for an indefinite period of time?#...#it's never stopped me before!#also i hate this knock-off twitter layout i wanna burn it all down #why can't i put a real line in my text posts anymore i--#i take it all back #the tumblr changes are the reason i'm on hiatus #>:|#kspice.text

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blueheartedmayor · 1 year

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the hug that lasts longer than the rest ; asher and damien !

For When You Need a Hug (Accepting across the blogs, but will be slow!)

Damien had grown up under constant pressure. The need to excel beyond expectations was one he had been aware of since his earliest memories. He needed to get the best grades. The home tuition was "necessary to cover parts of the curriculum that had been abandoned". Extra classes were to ensure that he would be be at the top of the class for every exam. Topics of politics and current affairs were taught to ensure he could partake in civil discussions at gatherings he had no place to be at, whether at six or sixteen years old.

Even now, in university, miles and miles away from that pressure, he could still feel it on his shoulders, forcing him to excel in a career path he didn't want. But it was nothing compared to what Asher had to deal with. From what he could piece together, everything was an uphill fight. They needed to work on their grades and get their name out there to show they were worth more than whatever their family name or home address told people. Life kept trying to kick them down, but Asher kept rising up and facing every problem head on. It was inspiring, even if it was something he felt sympathetic about.

They could manage the expectations and fight the fight, but Damien could see how utterly exhausted they were once the walls had dropped. They were the days where Asher found it harder to speak than usual, or was determined to keep their nose in the books and avoid communicating with anyone, even when there wasn't a reason to study.

That was the premise for tonight. Damien had completed the summary for an assignment that he needed to do, and he was taking time to read on the couch in the tiny living room. Asher had claimed the kitchen table. That same assignment Damien had merely brainstormed in his room was over half written by Asher in one day, even though it wasn't due for over a month. He could try and coax them away from their work, encourage them to take a break of some sort, but he knew that wouldn't work. If he needed them to relax, they needed to move first. And like a game of chess, he'd need to make calculated moves.

Eventually, they gave a frustrated sigh and stormed over to the couch with a book in hand. Fumbling sign instructed Damien to help them find the quote that was mentioned in the question. He had borrowed the same edition from the library. He knew exactly what page it was on because he had stared at it for half an hour earlier that day in the hopes the printed text would give divine inspiration.

Instead, he hummed as he flipped through the book. He had to make it clear he was searching for the passage, but not make too much of a show about it. It was a slow process, but it had a benefit as....

There was a soft pressure against his shoulder. It was worth a quick glance to make sure that, yes, it was Asher's head. That was his cue.

"I can't see it for the life of me," he sighed, closing the book and putting it on the ground on top of the novel he had been reading, "but I think it's because my eyes are too worn out from looking at tiny words all evening."

There was a soft hum from the person half-slumped against him. Maybe now that they were away from their work, the exhaustion of the day was starting to set in. Damien took the chance to gingerly wrap his arm around them and pull them toward him while leaning back into the couch. Asher didn't even try to protest. If anything, they nestled in more.

The half-hug worked wonders. Within minutes, both of them had dozed off, worries of assignments and the stresses of the world far from their minds. And if either of them had shifted to get more comfortable or to keep the other closer, well... No mention was made of it.

#(WELL I GUESS I HAVE TO WRITE THIS ONE NOW HUH #I NEED SOME DAMN FLUFF AFTER THE SADS)#shipstatus #v; better days #(I may have guessed a few things)#(but omg that's the end of the hugs. I actually did it)

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oro-e-diamanti · 3 years

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The one with Ethan’s suggestion

Description | Ethan suggests something that you had never seen coming - but for how long will you be able to resist him?

Content | smut with a bit of fluff

Pairing | Ethan x fem!Reader

Word Count | 3138

Tagging | @ginny-lily @mywritingonlyfans

***

"You did not just ask me that."

Ethan didn't even seem bothered by your shocked reaction. Instead, he simply kept looking at you, waiting, as if he had posed a completely normal question. You were certain it wasn’t though - who the hell just came out and asked one of their best friends to start hooking up? Surely this wasn’t just you thinking this was more than odd. You couldn’t stop looking at him, relaxing on a lounger in the sun, book still open in his hand, and how he didn’t seem to care.

“Oh, come one, Y/n,” Vic interjected from where she was relaxing on a pool float. “Poor Ethan hasn’t been with anyone since the pandemic started. The least you can do is help him get laid.”

“Get laid by me?!”

“Who else?” Victoria laughed. “It’s not like he can go out and pick up someone when we go on a promo tour in a week. We’re barely allowed to meet anyone as a safety measure.”

You shot her a pointed look and Victoria being your friend for the longest got it immediately.

“And no, I’m not gonna hook up with him. So it’s gotta be you.”

You couldn’t believe the conversation you were having. Had everyone simply gone crazy? Surely, Thomas wouldn’t be on their side in this, right? You watched as he lazily strolled towards your loungers, cigarette in hand.

“Thomas!” You shouted over at him. “Ethan wants me to hook up with him!”

“Fucking finally,” Thomas laughed as you stared back in horror. Was everyone in on this madness? “He’s been moping around for ages. About time he gets laid and relaxes.”

“See?” Ethan interjected. “Everyone thinks it’s a good idea.”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea!”

“Fine,” Ethan shrugged. You hated how much he didn’t seem to care - how he had posed a question like that without an ounce of awkwardness and how your rejection didn’t seem to faze him in the least. You knew he was open about sex and sexuality, you’d been part of countless conversations among the band and had seen him pick up people at parties more than once, but this unnerved you. "If you change your mind, I'm available."

And with that Ethan went back to his book, Victoria went back to floating around the pool and Thomas went back to smoking his cigarette. But you weren't going to go back to anything, because whether you liked it or not, Ethan's suggestion would continue playing in your head for the unforeseeable future.

***

Three days. It had been three days since that fateful day at the pool and you could barely stand to look at Ethan. It wasn't because you were embarrassed - you all spoke about such things quite openly - nor were you angry at him having asked in the first place - if anything, it was flattering, a man such as Ethan considering you attractive in that way. It was more of a constant thought in your head whenever you were in the same room with him or he talked to you or you looked at him or he so much as popped into your mind. You kept lying awake at night, intrusive thoughts of Ethan towering over you clouding your brain. You didn't know what it was but you knew you didn't like it.

You were pulled out of your thoughts as Victoria approached you, taking a couple of tomatoes you had spread in front of you and started cutting them up. You had been in charge of making dinner most days, with one or the other coming to join you in your cooking endeavors sooner or later. Today it seemed to be Vic, who was giggling away beside you, quite obviously dying to tell you something.

"And what is up with you?" You asked, a smirk on your face. You were happy your friend seemed so giddy and it had you itching to know why.

"I have a date!" Victoria was never one to keep things like these to herself for long - whenever she was positively excited about something, the world simply had to know. "Her name's Paula, she's on holiday here and we're going to go out for wine."

"Just wine?"

"Well, I'm gonna say, don't expect me back here tonight." She couldn't stop herself from smirking and then breaking out in another round of laughter and you joined freely. Good for her.

"I miss dates," you mused. "Or maybe - I don't know. Maybe I just miss at least staying the night with someone."

"You really need to get laid, babe."

"Who needs to get laid?" Damiano had appeared without warning, sneaking up on the two of you and pinching both of your waists teasingly before hopping on the counter next to where you were working. A slice of tomato was stolen and ended up in his mouth before you could react, only hitting him in the arm when it was much too late.

"Y/n," Victoria answered nonchalantly. You stared at her in annoyance but she didn't even catch your eye.

"So does Ethan! You guys should fuck."

"Not you too," you groaned. All of this seemed like a bad joke. In fact, you were starting to wonder if this was all some weird plot your friends had to get you to sleep with Ethan. But why would they?

"Huh?" Damiano sounded surprised but you didn't put it past him to simply put on a good act.

"Ethan asked her to hook up the other day."

"No way!" Damiano exclaimed. "He actually, fina- I mean, he actually asked you that?"

"Yup, and she shot him down," Victoria explained. You were getting more annoyed by the second. Especially because it felt like your love life (or lack thereof?) was being discussed without you. Plus, you couldn't shake the feeling they knew something you didn't.

"Aw, poor Ethan. You know, you should really give him the chance. Make the most of the fact that you've both got the house to yourselves tonight." Damiano's eyebrow wiggle earned him a tomato slice to the face due to pure irritation on your side. He wasn't bothered, quickly shoving it into his mouth and happily munching away on it.

"Wait, what do you mean? Where are you going?"

You sounded much more panicked than necessary. So what if you were alone in the house with Ethan? You'd survive. Easily. You'd read a bit of your book, maybe watch a movie, go to bed. You didn't even have to spend time with him. Right?

"Going out with my girlfriend, she's in town for work. Not sure where Thomas is off to but he's already left" Damiano shrugged, finally hopping off the counter to hopefully stop being in the way. "So, if there's anything you want to do, do it tonight."

***

So this was it. You were alone with Ethan. No, this was nothing. So what if you were alone with him? Not like it was going to change anything at all.

You had said your goodbyes for the night to the two lovebirds, wishing Victoria the most possible fun on her little date, before pouring yourself a glass of wine and retreating to the patio. You had no idea where Ethan was and you didn't mind.

The sun was setting, the temperature was more than bearable and you had your book lying next to you. Eyes closed trying to enjoy the last rays of sunshine, your hand grasped the stem of the wine glass, and fuck that moth scared the living daylights out of you. And caused you to spill your wine all over your blouse. Red wine. Crap. One was supposed to wash those out immediately, right? Right? You realised you had no idea, as you sprinted towards the upstairs bathroom, already unbuttoning for fast removal.

You threw the door open, feet set to move towards the basin, when you realised you weren't alone in the room. It happened in slow motion, as much as you hated the cliché of it all.

Ethan's back was towards you, strong, hard muscles visible under an array of water droplets that were slowly, slowly making their way downwards, hypnotising you and keeping your gaze locked on them. Your eyes were still travelling lower and lower when he noticed your presence, turning around out of reflex, and you could not help but notice he was not wrapped in a towel, nowhere close, when your eyes fell on-

Oh.

In a rare moment of clarity, you tore your gaze away, looking up at his face instead, just to find him eyeing up your cleavage. Your blouse was halfway undone, putting your white lace bra on full display. Then his eyes snapped away and looked into yours instead. For a second, it felt like the world was standing still. Your brain only worked for another moment before it decided to let your body - or potentially your heart? - take over.

You told yourself 'fuck it' - or maybe you said it out loud, judging by the sudden smirk appearing on Ethan's face - and reached for the man in front of you. He reciprocated without hesitation, pulling you in and meeting your mouth with his, as he walked you backward until you hit the wall. His body felt hot against yours, providing a stark contrast to the cold tiles pressing into you. His hands cradled your face softly, fingers stroking along your cheeks, while he kissed you, open-mouthed, in a way that left you breathless.

If you had ever had doubts that sex with Ethan would not be worth it, they had evaporated into thin air altogether.

His hands had started roaming your body, finally landing on the last buttons of your blouse. You had expected him to slowly open them up, but instead, he tore the fabric apart in one swift movement, buttons flying and hitting the ground with little clacking noises. You wrecked your mouth from him for a moment, staring at him in both surprise and awe.

"Spiacente," he murmured, although he didn't look all that sorry. "I couldn't help myself. I can get them sewn back-"

"Ethan, stop talking and start fucking me."

Your bold words took both of you by surprise but none of you minded, simply relieved that you were on the same page. His hands were now grasping tightly onto your thighs and, and without giving you a warning, he lifted you up, still pressed against the wall. Your legs wrapped around him instinctively and he took a step back, finding his strength and balance, and slowly carrying you into his bedroom.

You couldn't stop staring at him. Ethan's beauty was a sight to behold on any given day, but the way his lips looked kissed after just a short while and his eyes had that kind of shine to them that had never previously been directed at you, it felt like you were looking at something ethereal. Never mind the fact that you knew he was completely naked, not just the toned chest that was pressing into your torse, but everything else. Hell, you were sure you felt a certain something press into the back of your thigh quite shamelessly.

He dropped you on his bed, leaving you to bounce slightly on the mattress as you lied on your back. He looked like he was about to devour you and you just knew you'd bend to his every wish.

Without any further hesitation, Ethan moved onto the bed, immediately grabbing onto the shorts you were wearing and slowly pulling them down your legs. He held eye contact with you the whole time and you were convinced you had never seen anything sexier in your life. Your panties were the next piece to leave your body. Normally, this would be the point you got nervous about, crossing your legs, hiding behind hands, anything to protect what little of your modesty you had left, but this was different. Ethan took all shame away from you.

"Is this okay?" He asked, as he slowly crawled upwards, spreading your legs and leaving hot, wet kisses along your calves. As much as you appreciated him asking for consent, you almost had to laugh - at this point in time, you had lost all willpower to deny him anything. So, with a blissful smile on your face, you eagerly nodded at him, your hand reaching down and tangling itself into his hair. He groaned as you gave a little tug and the sound was more than enough to get you even wetter than you already were.

At least that was what you thought up until Ethan put his mouth on you. You had been expecting a bit more foreplay, maybe his fingers, but instead you felt his tongue lick along the length of you. Your moan loudly echoed through the room and you had never been so glad that Vic, Thomas and Damiano had deserted the two of you in the house.

Your grasp on his hair tightened as he started flicking your clit with the tip of his tongue. The fact that you could feel his hair tickling the inside of your thighs only seemed to make you more sensitive. Suddenly, one of his fingers entered you, quickly to be joined by a second. Your back arched off the bed in an involuntary reaction as your breathing became more and more laboured. You could hear- hell, you could feel him chuckle against you.

With a sharp tug, you pulled his head away from you.

"I'm not going to be able to take much more, Ethan," you confessed. He looked up at you with wide eyes, chin wet from going down on you and fingers still slowly moving in and out, and you momentarily forgot what you meant to say. "So if you wanna fuck me, I suggest you get a move on."

He didn't need to be told twice. You still sighed in disappointment when he actually removed his fingers from you but you were quickly distracted by him moving them to your mouth and slipping them in. You eagerly sucked on them, twirling your tongue around them, tasting your own arousal, and his composure was slipping with every second he looked at you. He quickly pulled his fingers from your mouth to crawl further up your body, his cock moving against your leg. He was so well endowed it would have almost been frightening if you hadn't been so turned on.

Ethan kissed you with a force that was unparalleled. There wasn't even a question about who was in control. As his fingers trailed from your neck down past your collarbones you both suddenly seemed to remember you were still wearing a bra. You made short work of the piece of fabric, carelessly throwing it across the room, and he thanked you by squeezing your soft flesh in the most delicious way. You repaid the favour by letting your hand wander to his cock and giving him a few strokes. He immediately let out the most sinful moan you had ever heard, head collapsing onto your cleavage.

"I don't think you need any more help from me down there," you giggled.

"With you lying under me like this, I sure don't."

Moving your legs around his waist once more, you slowly guided him into you, your walls swallowing him bit by bit, careful not to stretch you out too fast with his size. It felt like heaven on earth. You both moaned in pleasure as Ethan slowly started moving, making sure you were comfortable as he looked into your eyes, while you broke the eye contact time and time again, too overwhelmed to leave your eyes open every time he thrust into you. You kept grabbing onto what you could, the back of his head, his shoulders, his butt, as he increased his speed, hitting you in all the right places every single time.

You knew you weren't going to last long, not with him on and in and all around you, not with his fingers playing with your nipple, not with his lips clumsily attaching themselves to various places around your neck and shoulders, and as you felt his hand between your legs, softly circling your clit once again, you were gone. You came in waves of euphoria, unashamed of the volume of your moans and the strength with which you pulled on his hair. Your actions, combined with you clenching around him and a few more thrust, had him follow you moments later.

He carefully slipped out of you, never once letting go of you, and turning you onto your side with him so you were facing each other. Both of you were still breathing heavily, vision cloudy, but intertwined. You were convinced he had ruined you - there was no way anyone was ever going to live up to how he made you feel.

"So, did it live up to your expectation?" You couldn't help but giggle as you posed the question. "Getting laid again after such a long time?"

Ethan pushed a damp strand of hair from your face. You hadn't expected such softness.

"It wasn't actually about getting laid, you know."

"Huh?"

"It was about you."

"Okay, you've lost me now," you said, brows knitting as your hand searched for his, finger entangling the same way your legs were doing. "What are you talking about?"

"I... I've liked you for a while. And I tried so much, but you never even noticed."

Your mind replayed the last few weeks you had spent with the band in their summer house. Instances of Ethan bringing you food, cocktails, adjusting the shade to make sure you were in it, offering to put sunscreen on your back. Moments of him searching for your company, moving much closer than necessary in the heat, arms constantly touching when you were sitting next to each other. Jokes and teasing from the others, drunken remarks. You hadn't paid attention to any of it. You wondered how you could have been so blind to a man so wonderful.

"Wait, so instead of asking me out like a normal person, you suggested we hook up?" You couldn't keep the laughter in now. The situation was simply too ridiculous and you had not yet stopped riding on your high from the endorphins he had caused.

"It was Vic's idea." He buried his head into the sheets, but you could still see his cheeks turn an adorable shade of pink. "She knew I missed sex and she said you mentioned something similar so she thought this was the way into your..."

"Pants?"

"Heart, actually."

You snuggled closer, arms wrapping around him so that your noses were touching.

"Well, as embarrassing as it is, it somehow worked, didn't it?" You stroked over his head lovingly. "And I'm sure not letting you go any time soon."

#maneskin #maneskin imagine #ethan torchio imagine #ethan torchio x reader #ethan torchio fiction #ethan torchio x you #maneskin fiction #smut #my writings #ethan torchio

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bookishofalder · 3 years

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The Captain’s Error

Summary: Steve Rogers is protective over his bookworm friend, until an attack makes him realize he failed his one objective. The question is, will she forgive him?

Warnings; Fluff, angst, and then a bunch of great smut. Wrote this for a friend. WC: 7,144

You had your head in a book again. It was one of the more endearing things about you, had been what captured Steve’s attention when you started working for Stark. If you weren’t working, you lost yourself in whatever novel you were reading at the time, full stop. He was sure he had never seen you reading the same book twice, now that he thought about it. And he did think about you a lot.

And while as much as he loved the sight of you strolling the hallways of the compound with your brows slightly pinched, hips swaying, entirely focused as you consumed every genre imaginable, it also drove him a little crazy. Or a lot crazy, depending on the day.

Because Steve Rogers was first and always a protector, whether he carried the Captain America shield or not, and you were giving him a run for his money when it came to near accidents. Ranging in potential severity, it was like you were programmed clumsy. He wasn’t sure he could handle the burst of fiercely protective and equally jarring adoration that sprung up each time you walked into a wall or door, tripped, or hissed in pain from banging your hip off of a corner. He’d seen you tumble down the stairs once, though thankfully Clint happened to be coming up them at the time and managed to catch you before anything bad happened, before Steve could get to you and demand you just sit in a chair to read.

He wanted to beg you to quit the habit, at this point. He may be super due to the serum, but he was certain you would be the one thing that could kill him, the stress surely too great on his heart. He couldn’t bring himself to do it, though, not just because he didn’t want to overstep. He’d overheard you tell Nat, a few months prior, that you needed to stretch your legs a few times a day when you could get out of Tony’s lab and away from your work. Nat had joked that you needed a protector, in that case, because you were surely a liability Tony can’t have had coverage for.

And it was Nat’s simple statement, her joke, that gave Steve the great idea to be just that. Your protector. Whenever he reasonably could, he’d be there for you, organizing his days around your clockwork-like schedule so that when you took those walking while reading breaks, he was around. He convinced himself it was simply his duty-you were an important member of the team, and it was the least he could do. But then, the knowing looks his fellow Avenger’s would throw him, or the way his heart would threaten to beat out of his chest when you would stop to chat with him, kind of gave away that there was a selfish aspect to the self-designed arrangement.

He liked you. And after months of getting to know you better and better, with daily conversations that would lead to movie nights or walks around the compound, he eventually started to love you. It was easy as apple pie to fall in love with you, the resident hacker, hardworking and brilliant and funny as you were.

You’d recently developed a habit of bringing along the copy of the book you’d previously finished, tucked under your arm, and offering it to Steve to read. And while his preferred hobby was sketching-actually, Bucky was the reader of the two of them, he found himself eager to consume the ones you deemed good enough to pass along. Though he didn’t get through them anywhere near as quickly as you did, he found himself in his room alone most nights, flipping through pages that smelled faintly of you.

If you had ever caught on to the reason for his sudden consistent appearances during your lunch and afternoon breaks, you never commented. Sometimes, you had a pinch in your brow that told Steve you were focused on the story, and he would give you space, though the one time he’d tried to back away completely you’d caught his arm, sending electricity shooting through his body, and wordlessly beckoned him to walk with you. He liked those days as much as the ones where you would hold your book open, but rather than read hold long conversations with him, sometimes to discuss the books he’d borrowed, often to just talk about anything and everything.

Steve had learned so much about you. He knew you liked to paint, that you were a fan of the beach but only if you could go into the water, not fritter away on the beach hiding from the sun (because skin cancer, of course), that Autumn was your favourite season and you wanted a dog one day. Your favourite book was The Hobbit but you were a sucker for a good steamy romance. The more he learned, the more he fell if he was honest.

And it wasn’t onesided-as much as he preferred to talk about you, you asked your fair share of questions with a stunning abundance of delicacy, mindful of his history, his life, his differences. And while you sometimes teased him (like when he’d tell Tony to watch his language in front of ladies and he’d see you shoot him a little smirk for it) you never made fun of him, never made him feel like the old man he technically was. And it was like...like you could empathize better than others, maybe because of all the worlds and minds you lost yourself to in the pages of the books, you were better equipped to consider his perspective. To understand why he became self-critical when the world was counting on him, and then gently coaxing him out of his dark thoughts to offer him a different point of view or a reminder that he couldn’t carry the weight of the world alone.

But Steve didn’t feel alone when he was with you.

It was coming up on a year since his new daily routine with you had begun. He tried not to miss both of your breaks in the same day if he could help it, but sometimes duty called and as much as he missed you during missions, he knew he couldn’t skip on them just to follow you around. You would probably lose it if he did.

Though it was tempting to ask F.R.I.D.A.Y to keep an eye on you, he hadn’t, but it was tempting. It was early fall, the weather still warm but a slightly crisp edge to the breeze that seemed to act as a siren call to you, your feet always pattering away and out of the building to wander the compound’s property. But there were more obstacles outside, more hazards that had him imagining you upside down in the fountain or covered in poison ivy from a tumble near the thicket on the east side of the property.

He’d been quick to have Tony call in special landscapers when he’d thought of this, just to remove all dangerous plants. It was a service to everyone there, really.

Today, he couldn’t spend time with you, because Nat needed him for a mission to nab a Hydra agent that you had managed to uncover the whereabouts of. It was a few hours, tops, but he was boarding the Quinjet when he glanced around and watched you wander out the front doors, head in your book. The smirk on Nat’s face was enough to prevent him from running back down the ramp and instead turn to hit the ramp recall button. He was being over cautious-it was a bright day and there were plenty of others on the compound property who would notice if you had an extended absence from your lunch.

When he entered the cockpit, his friend opened her mouth to tease and Steve cut her off by raising his hand in a wordless request for silence on the subject. She merely laughed and made no further comment. It wasn't like he hadn’t already heard her opinion on the subject.

The HYDRA agent in question was one known to Nat, so Steve let her take the lead on capturing him while thoughts of you fluttered in the back of his mind. He did give her a look when she punched him an extra time, the broken-nosed agent's hands bound behind him as he was strapped into the Quinjet. She rolled her eyes but relented. Once back in the cockpit, however, she started on Steve- ‘Just tell her how you feel...ask her on a date...you really think she’d say no to Captain America?’

Ah, but that was the question, wasn’t it? Because whether one saw him as Steve Rogers or Captain America, the reality was that he was forever both, each at the same time, which meant that dating him came with a lot of baggage. He knew you well enough to know that you saw him first and foremost as your friend, Steve, but all the same, you were as aware as anyone of what his title meant to the world, the duty he had to fulfil and the dangers that came with that territory.

And if he was protective over you simply tripping over your own feet, it was nothing compared to the fierceness of his need to safeguard you from any and all threats. You were already a valuable target-no combat training or powers to speak of, but a big brain that did some seriously complicated and involved work for Tony Stark and the Avengers-throw dating one of them into the mix and you would be priority one. Whoever took you would own the team.

You lived on the compound for this very reason. At the initial insistence of Tony himself once he’d found you (you were skilled enough to cover your tracks in your underground hacking over the years, but eventually Stark caught up with you and begged you to join the team). You’d told Steve you’d resisted at first, believing you could work for Stark without needing to remove yourself from your studio apartment and the routine you had in your quiet life, but then Loki’s attack on New York had happened and you happily moved, keen to avoid being stomped on by aliens.

A call came through the Quinjet then, a screen appearing over the centre console and revealing Bucky’s face over the caller ID. Nat answered as Steve focused on bringing the jet into the air, punching in the coordinates home.

“Hey Buckaroo,” Nat quipped as Bucky came into view with a tense expression on his face. Seeing as he often looked like this, Steve paid no attention and simply called his greeting as he put the auto-pilot on. “What’s with the long face? And where are you?”

“First of all, you can call me Barnes, I don’t like you enough for nicknames,” He began, and Steve smiled at the banter as his eyes took in the unfamiliar background just insight over Bucky’s shoulder.

“Aww, and here I thought we were besties,”

Steve interjected, “Bucky, are you in a bookstore?” It wasn’t that it was odd to think of Bucky in such a place, it was just the combination of him calling and the fact that the shop was empty of patrons that caught his notice.

With a sigh, Bucky nodded, “Listen, Steve, she’s alright,” Bucky replied, and Steve narrowed his eyes as his mind started reeling over what exactly that meant. You were okay, but...?

“What happened?” His voice was harsh, and he saw Nat flinch out of the corner of his eye. Bucky knew him too well to not expect his response.

“Well she came out to this bookstore an hour ago, and I guess someone has been watching her when she leaves the compound. Knew she liked to come here,” Steve’s fists clenched as Bucky spoke, “They tried to grab her today but she hit the panic button on her phone and one of our operatives happened to be outside and saw the struggle. He interceded until Sam and I arrived.”

“Was she hurt?” He demanded, willing the Quinjet to move faster. They were only minutes from the compound, but every one felt extended and torturous now because even as Bucky assured him you were more shaken up than anything, Steve wouldn’t believe you were alright until he could see you.

He realized his greatest error, then. In his efforts to ensure he didn't overstep when it came to you, he allowed himself to ignore the instinct that you should, at the very least, be assigned a guard when leaving the compound. And now you’d nearly been taken because you thought it was safe to drive to a bookstore. After all, you weren’t (and really, he loved this about you) programmed to see danger at every corner. He was, and he’d allowed his feelings to cloud his judgement.

“Stop brooding, Steve, Bucky said she’s alright. Sam’s with her back home right now.”

He bristled immediately, “Doesn’t make it any less concerning though, Nat. Clearly, she’s on people’s radars now, we should already have implemented safety protocols for her! She isn’t trained to protect herself, she doesn’t even carry a weapon.”

He could see the compound now and relaxed marginally, running a hand over his face in an attempt to steady and ease his racing mind. After a long pause, Nat spoke up.

“I’ll train her, to defend herself and to use a weapon,” Nat suggested, and he glanced at her in surprise, “Yeah, I don’t mind, I like her, care about her. And we’ll talk to Tony, see what we can do about ensuring she has protection outside of the compound. I’m right in thinking she’s good while in the compound, eh Steve?”

He let out a broken laugh, shaking his head as Nat wiggled her brows suggestively at him. He had to give his friend credit, she did a good job of pulling him from his darker thoughts and refocusing him on the issue at hand. He needed to think of a way to thank her one of these days.

It had been a week since the attack and Nat had stayed true to her promise to train you. Now your lunch breaks were spent sparring with the redhead, who was teaching you the basics of hand to hand. Steve had been surprised at your excitement over the suggestion. Now he was pretty impressed with your willingness to learn.

When he’d found you upon returning to the compound, you were wrapped in a thick blanket on the couch of the main living room. Sam was handing you a cup of tea and Tony was on the phone from wherever he was, yelling his assurances that they’d find out who the culprit-currently locked in the compounds jail-worked for and nail them all to the wall. Steve had walked in just as Tony swore and interrupted Stark to remind him to watch his mouth.

You’d turned at the sound of his voice and given him a look so blatantly relieved that he simply pulled you into his chest and hugged you. When he heard your heart rate pick up in response, he told himself it was due to leftover adrenaline and not because of him.

Steve liked to come down to the gym and watch your sessions from a distance, though today there was an additional person in the room-Bucky. You and Bucky had always been close, happy to talk about books for hours on end, to banter and tease to the point where Steve had almost wanted to be jealous, only his best friend had pulled him aside a long time ago to tell him you reminded him of one of his younger sisters.

Now though, Bucky was there for a reason. He was dressed in gym clothes, his long hair tied back off of his face, and was currently waiting patiently as you repeated Nat’s instructions aloud while indicating where on Bucky you would be aiming for each maneuver. Steve realized Nat wanted you to learn to take on an attacker much stronger and bigger than you and internally agreed with the idea.

He smiled as he watched you, eager and almost hyper with focus and determination. Bucky was giving you a bemused sort of look as you repeatedly poked him in his flesh shoulder to illustrate a point. When Nat asked you if you were ready for Bucky to ‘attack’ you, your response was to fall into the relaxed stance with your back to him and give a vigorous nod.

This is where it became...complicated. Probably, it would have been best for Steve to sit this session out, or at least to have been warned of what was going to happen. And the thing was, he trusted Buck with his life. With your life, for that matter. But the moment his super-soldier best friend set his jaw and pressed up behind you, going into attack mode, Steve snapped.

He was moving forward before you’d even got past the first step in your offensive plan.

Being that Bucky was the only other super soldier in the room, he was the only one who knew Steve was watching. You and Nat were focused, Nat calling instructions to you, your head facing in the opposite direction he was storming over from. He grinned at Steve, immediately relaxing his stance and taking a half step back from you. While you turned around to question what Bucky was doing, Nat’s eyes found Steve.

“Well, shit.” She murmured, quiet enough that you probably hadn’t heard.

Bucky’s eyes were still on Steve, and he raised his hands in mock surrender while a knowing smirk tugged his lips up. You spun on your heel to see what he was looking at, just as Steve stepped onto the sparring mat. You had to tilt your head back to gaze up at him, a curious frown replacing your confusion when you saw the look on his face.

“Steve?”

He forced himself to smile, though he’d been tempted to give Buck a shove away from you. “I’m sorry to interrupt,” He replied, pulling his gaze from his friend to meet yours, “I was hoping to speak with you if you don’t mind?” He kept his tone light, actively working to relax because you hadn’t been in any real danger and he didn’t want to offend or upset you.

You hesitated, giving Steve a once over that told him you didn’t buy his friendly demeanour, before nodding, “Sure, excuse us, Bucky, Nat.” You said, sparing them barely a glance and missing the twin smirks they were both sporting.

“Thank you,” He gestured toward the exit and let you lead the way out of the room. He shot his friends each a glare over his shoulder, though they merely grinned at him, before returning his attention to you. Once in the hall, he wondered if he could have this conversation with you here, and hesitated.

Sensing his unease, you spoke up, “Can we go to your room?”

“Oh, yes,” He blinked, following you in the direction of the elevator. Once the doors closed, he asked F.R.I.D.A.Y to take you to the living quarters' floor and then fell silent, unsure of what to say now that he was calming down. He could sense you were mulling over a question and was proven right when you looked up at him.

“You’re upset with me.”

He glanced down at you in surprise, his heart stuttering at the sad look on your face. “No,” He said truthfully, and although he stayed rooted to the spot, he brought his hand up to rest on your lower back gently, “Not even a little bit, darling. I’m sorry if I gave you that impression.”

He took a deep breath as you nodded, and had to focus his mind. Being a super-soldier increased his senses, and those abilities didn’t just come into play in the field. His taste, sight, sense of smell, hearing, were always advanced, on, and in moments like this, it could be difficult to focus on just one. He could smell you, the fading scent of your shampoo, the sweat on your skin, and a sweet scent he couldn’t quite place. He could also hear your heart beating, and didn’t miss the way it stuttered when he placed his hand on your back, nor did he fail to hear the slight intake of breath you had taken.

It could be too much, at times. It had taken some time to learn how to focus himself. To find grounding tricks that helped keep him from being overstimulated. But around you, it was another story and he hadn’t quite figured out how to relax around you yet.

And it didn’t help matters that you were reacting to Steve more and more in the close confines of the elevator; your pupils were dilating, your heart rate was increasing, and fuck, that sweet smell was increasing and it was driving him...a little feral.

It was a relief when the doors opened, pulling in a wave of fresh air that cleared his head enough to remember to move forward. He walked to his room with you in silence, clearing his throat at the door, which opened at his command, then followed you in. He remained next to the door, though you continued into the living room that separated open space from his bedroom. You looked around, eyes widening in surprise when you saw him so far away.

“You better not be about to give me really bad news, Steve,” You quipped, arching a brow at him and crossing your arms. “Seriously, who’s dying?” And here he had hoped that by giving you space, he would be easing any discomfort you might have with the situation.

He laughed at your words, grateful as ever that you seemed to understand him and knew how to diffuse the thick tension better than he ever could. Moving further into the room, Steve made a point of keeping his distance from you, almost edging around the space to give you a clear path to the door. You frowned as you noticed this gesture, your eyes narrowing, but did not comment.

“Can I be honest with you about something?” He finally asked, hands on his hips. You nodded and he continued. “I’m very...I care about you, a lot, darling. And I’m protective of you, and seeing you sparring with Bucky just-well, I didn’t like it.”

Your brows rose in surprise as he spoke, nearly disappearing into your hairline, and he worried he was doing a poor job of this. He faltered, unsure of how to properly explain without overstepping.

“You don’t trust Bucky?” You said, knowing the answer but pulling Steve from his silence all the same.

“Of course I do, and I know you can handle yourself. I’ve been watching all week.”

You held his gaze, your arms crossing over your chest, “Good, because once I’m done with Bucky I know Sam wanted to join in, and I’m pretty sure Tony could take a turn with the suit, see if I can handle taking punches from Iron Man-“

“Okay, enough, please,” He pleaded, each image in his mind of you fighting against men who could snap your neck in the blink of an eye now causing him great distress, “I promise it’s not about...about...”

You tilted your head, and even from across the room he could hear your heartbeat pick up a little as you took in his reaction. “Come on, Stevie, be honest with me here.” You finally said, worry flashing over your pretty face.

“I can’t-that is, I don’t like seeing you have to train like this because of my failings. You shouldn’t have to be spending your spare time-“

“You agreed to this from the start, Steve. Nat offered basic training because of MY mistake, not because of you!” You were stepping closer now, eyes never leaving his.

Steve nodded, swallowing heavily, “I did agree, yes, but you didn’t make any mistakes, darling. Everything that happened, that could have happened to you, that’s on me. I should be keeping you safe and I,” He closed most of the gap, now standing just inches from you as you gazed up at him with wide eyes, “I failed you, before, I let my...my feelings get in the way of my better judgement. You should have already had a security detail, then you’d never had been assaulted in the first place. I’m so sorry I let you down, darling. I’ll never forgive myself.”

You gaped up at him and Steve didn’t even blink, eager to watch every expression cross your face as you absorbed his words. His heart was about to jump out of his chest, but somehow he already felt a little lighter for what he’d confessed.

“Steve,” You finally broke the silence, speaking slowly, “You could never let me down. But I...you need to tell me what you mean, w-what feelings?”

Perhaps, had he not been keenly aware of your racing heart, your shallow breathing, he might have faltered, edged the conversation to more neutral grounds. Because admitting how he felt about you was terrifying, even as you looked at him softly.

“I love you,” He replied, the words bursting out of him and he saw the delight flash across your face before he even finished, “I’m in love with you, and I should have told you sooner. You were attacked the other day because I thought I was overreacting by thinking you should have security. I didn’t want you to be unhappy, either, so I made a bad call. Please tell me you’ll forgive me.”

“Did you just say...shit, Steve, of course, I forgive you-there’s nothing to forgive, really,” You were speaking quickly, your cheeks flushing. “I probably would have resisted having security before being attacked, if I’m being honest. Also-“ You suddenly cut yourself off, reached up and grabbed the back of Steve’s neck, drawing him down and crashing your lips to his.

You caught him off guard, but he barely fumbled, immediately kissing you back, one hand gripping your waist, sliding the other to cup your jaw. You pressed your whole body to Steve’s like you’d been wanting to do it for a long time and now that you didn’t have to hold back, you weren’t going to. He couldn’t help it then, he gathered you close in his arms and simply lost himself in you in those moments, the way you tasted, the softness of your lips, the sound of your heart thrumming like a hummingbird. The underlying sweet scent he was becoming more and more aware of.

Steve would have been content to remain like this, exactly here; holding you in his arms while his tongue traced over your lips and you parted them for him to lick into your mouth, your hands gripping his shoulders hard enough that were he not a super soldier, you might have left some bruises. He was a man from a time when it would take a few dates before a kiss even close to resembling this intensity could occur. He hadn't forgotten that part of himself. The part which demanded a sense of propriety, to treat you like the lady you were. To bring you flowers and write you letters and hope you’d say yes to another date, and then another, never lingering on the doorstep too long at the end of the night, and certainly not coming in for drinks.

But you weren’t from that era, and maybe that was one of the reasons he loved you; you were strong-willed and quick-witted, a woman more than capable of handling herself and making her own decisions. Even though you walked into walls and tripped over your own feet, Steve saw your strength and the depths of which you held empathy and kindness for others.

He thought he had an idea of who you were, now, after all this time as close friends.

However, when you traced a hand along his jaw and then let slip a quiet, needy moan, Steve Rogers quite literally came undone at your fingertips.

The kiss morphed then, a little more rough, teeth clashing as you struggled to pull in air but refused to pull away, your fingers sinking into his hair and gripping. He growled, a low rumble because the shift of your body let loose another wave of the scent of your sweet arousal and it assaulted his hyper-senses, his length straining painfully in his shorts, pressed between your bodies.

“St-Steve, I love you too” He grinned as happiness filled him. You sighed heavily when he pulled away only to move his lips down your neck, sucking the skin gently as he went. He moved slowly despite the desperation he felt to have more of you, to give you all of himself, and you seemed to read his mind and understand exactly what he needed to hear-your permission if you so wished. “More, Steve, please. I want you.”

“Fuck,” He groaned, because he knew you meant it and hearing it out loud was almost too much, he couldn’t be this lucky, this trusted. How could he have earned the right to touch you so? As if sensing his turmoil, you suddenly tugged at Steve’s shirt and he let you guide him...straight past his couch and through the open door to his bedroom.

If that wasn’t clear enough permission, Steve didn’t know what would be. With renewed passion, he picked you up and deposited you onto his bed, climbing over top your body and simply drinking in the sight of you, still clothed; sweaty and needy and beautiful, your hair fanned to one side across his duvet, and your hips-

Shit, your hips were rutting up into his, desperately seeking friction.

“Am I-I neglecting you, darling?” He breathed, face just next to yours. You shuddered as his warm breath brushed over your ear, then let out a moan when he placed a hand on your hip, stilling you.

“Stevie, please,” You whispered, and he loved the way you bit your lip, how your pupils were blown wide in desire. And as much as he wanted...everything, with you, he also kind of enjoyed teasing you. He saw no reason to rush, and he was going to take good care of you now.

“Something that doesn’t get spoken of,” He began, leaning his weight onto one elbow so that he could trace his free hand across your body. Skipping the most sensitive bits and making a point of touching only your thin gym clothing, “Is how the enhanced abilities of super-soldiers like me don’t just apply to battle.”

He let that sit between you, watching your face as you trembled under his touch before your eyes snapped up to meet his in surprise. “Like, you can hear my heart beating?” You asked, your face flushing even more than it already had been, heat rolling off of you in waves.

Steve nodded, lips tugged into a confident smirk, “Exactly. Among other things,” He brought both hands to the top of your leggings, hooking his thumbs in. He started to drag them down, “I can smell you, darling, how worked up you are. You smell amazing, you know.” The leggings came off and your hips moved again as you let out the filthiest little moan at his words.

“Fuck,” You were trying to push down your panties. Steve gripped them in his hand, bunching the fabric and, with no real effort, tore them off of you. He’d buy you more. You giggled then, as he tossed the torn remains behind him and then brought his lips back to yours, meeting you in another passionate kiss.

Once he had you distracted with his lips, he quickly slid his hand over your thigh and down your now very wet pussy, moving between your folds to dip two fingers inside of you. Groaning, Steve instinctively rutted his hips into the bed, his erection impossibly hard now. You whimpered, clenching around him as he teased you with slow, come-hither motions with his fingers. He moved his thumb to your clit and experimented gently, seeking out the right way to...yes, there it was.

“Steve!” You cried out, hips bucking as he brought you to the edge. Steve was enraptured by every expression, every sound you made. You were more than beautiful, you were everything.

“That’s it, darling,” He whispered into your ear, panting from arousal, “You feel so good, don’t you? I’ll take care of you. You can let go.”

You whined a little, eyes rolling and your hands now gripping the fabric of his shirt tightly, and he felt the first wave of your orgasm as your body stiffened before your head fell back and you let out a loud yell of his name as you came. He slowed his movements but didn’t stop, drawing the bliss out for as long as he could as you trembled and jerked in his arms. Even when you collapsed back into the bed, he kept going, until a stutter in your heart rate gave way to your overstimulation and he eased back with a grin.

“S-shit,” You gasped, your eyes opening and seeking his, “How the fuck did you do that?”

Steve chuckled, his brows knitting together in confusion, “Do what?”

You seemed to grapple for words, then gestured vaguely at your lower half, “Steve you made me cum with just-just your fingers! I can’t even do that!”

“Then how do you...”

“My vibrator, but after what you just did I don’t think I’ll be able to look at it the same now.”

Steve laughed loudly, then sat up and pulled his shirt off, eager to feel your skin against his. You watched him, eyes wide in anticipation. “You feel alright, darling? We can stop, just say the word.” He reached down and stroked your cheek affectionately. Focusing on your comfort helped Steve keep from becoming overwhelmed by you, your smell, your heartbeat, the fucking look in your eyes.

Your hand covered the back of his, holding it against your cheek firmly, “I never want to stop, Steve,” And then, before he could process the want in your tone, “Can I touch you?”

He groaned, jumping off the bed to tear off his shorts and briefs, baring himself completely to you. Automatically, his hand fell to grip his length, and then he tuned back into you on the bed. Your breath had caught, and Steve looked toward you in time to see your jaw drop, eyes on his body. “You didn’t say please.” He joked, and your eyes flicked up to meet his, a smirk tugging your lips up.

You sat up then, shucking off your shirt and bra before his eyes, “Please?” You said softly, tossing your clothes aside. Now it was Steve’s turn to gape as he drank in your every curve, “Please, Stevie, can I touch you?” You licked your lips. Fuck.

“Yeah,” He breathed, struck momentarily dumb, but when you giggled he realized he stood frozen at the edge of the bed. Clearing his throat, Steve sank to his knees on the bed next to you and pulled you against him, dipping his head down, “Touch me.” He whispered, then pressed his lips to yours.

You moaned into his mouth, swallowing his when your hand found his length and gripped him, stroking slowly. His hips bucked in response and Steve quickly brought his hands to your hips, holding you tight against him as he lowered you back onto the bed. Laying over you, Steve eased your legs apart and settled between them, his cock resting against your thigh. He broke the kiss and met your gaze again.

“I want you. I trust you.” You promised, your hand tilting him toward your core, “Please Steve, I want you so badly.”

“Fuck. Darling, you gotta tell me if anything is too much, alright?” You nodded, your hips now wriggling desperately. He drove his hips forward then, slowly parting your folds and sinking into you in one motion. “Oh, darling...” He sighed, eyes on your face.

“Steve!” You whimpered, and he could feel you clenching around him even as he stilled, waiting for you to adjust to him. You wrapped your legs around him, signalling he could move, and Steve started a slow pace, dragging in and out of you.

Dropping his head into the crook of your neck, Steve closed his eyes and focused-first, on the feel of you around him, of your curves pressed into his body, then onto the sound of your heart beating, the way the air puffed out of your lungs in little half gasps. He moved without thought, using you as a guide to decide his pace, happy to draw as many moans from you for as long as possible. He felt you rolling your hips slowly, the movement sinking him into you deep on each downward thrust, and he grunted at the perfection of the sensation.

“How do you feel?” His voice was a breath in your ear. He had propped himself up with one arm and now ran the other down the length of your torso, pausing at every curve to grip your soft flesh. You moaned out each time he did, your walls clenching him tighter. “Because I’ve never felt so good in my entire life, darling. You’re perfect.”

Whimpering again, your hands sliding over the muscles of his broad chest before coming to hold his shoulders. “S-so good, Stevie, I can’t fucking stand it, you feel so good,” Your back arched slightly and Steve dropped his mouth to your breasts, taking turns between them to lick over your nipples. You sunk one of your hands into his hair, pulling his face against your body, and then cried out and the same moment he heard your heartbeat swell, “I’m going t-to, oh shit, shit!”

“That’s right, come for me, let go again beautiful,” Steve sighed in content in the brief moment before you toppled over the edge, your barely open eyes meeting his before snapping shut.

Your entire body went rigid as you came, your cunt clenching viciously around Steve, begging him to follow you but he resisted, pulling his head from your chest to watch your face. The expressions that flashed over you, the way your lips parted to let out a continuous stream of moans and curses, were enough to drive him beyond wild. The resulting increase in wetness made it fractionally easier for him to move within you.

You were panting heavily, your body relaxing back into the bed and Steve pinned you there with his slowly thrusting hips. You sounded wrecked when you spoke moments later. “Need to take care of you, let me please,” You begged him, pushing at him.

Steve met your eyes, unsure of what you meant, “What do you want, sweet girl?”

He felt you trying to rotate your hips to no avail, pinned by his strength, “I know y-you’re holding back, I can take it. Please, Stevie, fuck me, I can take-“

Steve almost came at your desperate plea and stopped moving, taking a moment to gaze at you in wonder, before pulling back. With quick, careful movements he lifted you off the mattress. Walking on his knees, he held you in his arms, still buried inside of you, until he had your back pressed against the wall at the head of his bed.

He growled then, dropping his hands to roughly hold the flesh of your hips and then beginning a ruthless pace, pounding into you over and over as you cried out for more and he was fairly certain he’d never known pleasure such as this. You were trembling, letting his strength hold you against the wall, your hands now both clinging to his hair, drawing his face to yours to kiss, tongues fighting each other for dominance.

It was the hottest fucking thing. You were the sexiest, most beautiful fucking woman and it only took a minute more to find his release, pleasure rippling up his back before he slammed you into the wall-one hand cradling your head protectively, and roared your name as he filled you. He came long and hard, easily the best orgasm of his life. “Fuck, fuck,” He gasped, kissing along your jaw before nibbling down your neck, his thrusts sloppy and slow now as he floated down to reality.

It was already easier for Steve to focus on you, his sense reaching out to ensure you were alright before he managed to lift his head and look at you. His serum-infused body was fairly unaffected by the physical aspects, he wasn’t sweating, hadn’t tired. But he was panting a little from the overwhelming intensity of his orgasm. You on the other hand were like Jell-O now, limp in his arms, body quivering and breathing erratic. When he finally looked up, his cock twitched at the blissed-out expression on your face, earning him another little moan as you felt him still hard inside of you.

“Good girl,” He breathed out, holding you steady. He eased out of you slowly, watching as your tight heat leaked out a mixture of fluids. You smelled heavenly, even with the layer of sweat, and he was tempted to lower you onto the bed and taste you. The small whimper you gave, however, warned Steve that you needed to be taken care of.

And so he took care of you, carrying you into his bathroom and helping you to the toilet, leaving you alone for a minute to run to his mini-fridge and pull out a cold glass bottle of water. You were attempting to stand when he walked back in, and Steve quickly put his arms around you, pressing the bottle into your hand, all while whispering sweet nothings to you. Words of praise, of love, comfort, encouraging you to drink the water and then, once he was satisfied with the decent amount you gulped back, he took you to his overlarge bathtub.

It was there that he spent the next hour, holding you in his arms in the warm water, his hands tracing over every curve and dip of your perfect body. You lay content and sleepy in his arms, your slow and steady heart rate enough to tell him you were relaxed until eventually, he thought you were about to fall asleep when you seemed to catch yourself, head raising from his chest.

“Stevie?” You whispered, your voice a little scratchy from overuse.

He brushed his hand over your face gently, smiling down at you, “Yes, darling?”

“Does this mean you’ll be training me from here on out? Because I have some ideas of scenarios and maneuvers I’d like to try...”

Did you enjoy this story? Please consider leaving a comment or reblogging to ease my inner turmoil as a writer 🤍

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jadelotusflower · 3 years

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It’s Cold in that Fridge: The Case of Nakari Kelen

Since The Case of Mara Jade has been doing the rounds again, I’ve finally gone back to this post that has been sitting in my drafts for literally years. So let’s honour this absolute badass who deserved better:

Once upon a time, the Star Wars universe was but six films (and a tv series) in the story of the Skywalker family. But beyond George Lucas’ story was an absolute boatload of books, comics, games, and other materials that made up the Expanded Universe. When Disney purchased Lucasfilm and the rights to the Star Wars saga, everything in this universe was decanonised and deemed “Legends” - some aspects of this universe were retained or re-purposed, others sit in Disney’s figurative vault and will likely never see the light of day (and seeing how the ST turned out, maybe that’s for the best).

But this transition between Legends canon and Disney canon was not so simple, because the nature of publishing meant that there were novels approved during the time of Legends canon that would be released in the time of Disney canon. In particular, there had been the planned trilogy “Empire and Rebellion”, set between A New Hope and The Empire Strikes Back, with each novel from the perspective of one of The Big Three.

Razor’s Edge (Leia) and Honor Among Thieves (Han) were released prior to the Great Canon Split of 2014. But while the Luke-centric novel had been planned, it was not due to be released until well after the Split. So Heir to the Jedi (so called as an homage to the Legends progenitor Heir to the Empire) became one of the first books of the Disney canon.

What does this background have to do with Nakari Kelen? Perhaps nothing, but I do wonder how the writing process was affected by the shift from Legends to Disney - was the novel a relic of the old EU with any reference the LFL storygroup didn’t like excised during editing, or was it a trendsetter for the new EU, a Sign of Things to Come?

The most salient point being, of course, that Nakari Kelen - like so many love interests before her - was not allowed to go along her merry way at the conclusion of the novel, but was shoved into the fridge.

If there was one constant of the Legends EU, it was that Luke Skywalker’s love interests couldn’t catch a break. Mara Jade naturally lasted the longest relationship-wise, with almost twenty years of marriage to Luke before some bright spark decided she had to go (as per the aforementioned case study). But before Mara there was Jem, Shira Brie, and Gaeriel Captison (who came close to escaping the curse), and in the Legacy of the Force series they brought back sole survivors Akanah and Callista, only to kill them off for good too (and rather brutally, if I may add).

So perhaps when Kevin Hearne began writing HttJ within the confines of the Legends continuity, he was merely sticking to the status quo, or perhaps once subsumed by Disney they needed to make sure Luke's slate was clean (so to speak). And I can’t put all the blame on Hearne since I don’t know whether it was his idea, or LFL mandated - but regardless it was a poor decision.

The root cause of fridging, imo, is limited imagination. How best to cause your male protagonist pain if not kill off someone they love, or at least have strong feelings for? The answer is of course, easily. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

The Luke Skywalker of HttJ is fresh from his victory in ANH, a lieutenant in the Rebellion: young, not dumb, and full of...

Nakari Kalen is an absolute Queen a civilian volunteer and crack-shot sniper who loans her ship Desert Jewel to the Alliance. Luke is immediately attracted to her, they bond over a mutual love of fast ships and leaving behind desert home planets, and engage in the inexpert flirting of two nineteen year olds while also risking their lives several times over.

I want to make it clear: I actually really like this book. It's a breezy read, almost serialised as The Early Adventures of Luke Skywalker, and is ofttimes genuinely funny. And credit where it’s due to Hearne, many of of the supporting roles in the novel are female. Other than Nakari, there's Soonta, the Rodian who gives Luke her uncle’s lightsaber, Sakhet the Kupohan spy, and the Givin cryptographer/math genius Drusil Bephorin. In a genre where male characters are often the default for these kind of roles, it was nice to see, but makes the regressive fridging of Nakari even more egregious.

Luke and Nakari make a good team fighting brain-sucking monsters and Imperials, but more importantly they have fun together - she encourages him to work on his Force skills, and he successfully moves objects with his mind for the first time (leading to Nakari adorably dub him "a little noddle scooter"). It's a very sweet, if brief, relationship, and a respite from the danger of the mission. They spend the night together (leaving the reader to decide exactly what happened behind closed doors), and share a kiss before splitting up to try and escape bounty hunters. No prizes for guessing what happens to Nakari immediately after she received the Skywalker Kiss of Death.

I assume there were two motivating factors for why Hearne and/or LFL couldn't let Nakari live:

1. If she survived, fans would wonder why she doesn't appear in ESB/subsequent material.

I recall this bandied about on forums back at the time of the book's release, and to that I say - so what? Fans are always going to wonder, and try to paper over the gaps in canon, to make up their own headcanons to explain any any perceived inconsistencies. It's certainly no reason to kill someone off.

It is in fact possible for two young people to have a romance that just fizzles, or doesn’t work out for whatever reason - it should not require great maneuvering or explanation. If Nakari doesn’t show up in the next book in the timeline, what about it? The reader is smart enough to assume she and Luke broke up, decided to just remain friends, whatever. But it seems that the only way for a female character to exit stage left is for her to die, which is bullshit.

And actually, there's no reason why she couldn't have shown up again. ESB and RoTJ cover a month and a few days, respectively, of Luke's life - just because there was no mention of Nakari doesn't mean she didn't exist at that time, whether or not she and Luke were an item. She could have made an appearance in a subsequent novel, or Rebels, or the comics - she could have become a recurring character, showing up when the Rebellion needed her, or - heaven forbid - even have her own comic/book/show! Her existence in Star Wars canon didn't need to begin and end with Luke Skywalker, merely to service his plotline and backstory and abandoning the richness of her own.

No, the only reason Nakari had to die was to facilitate this:

It was a blow to the gut, realizing what that sudden absence meant. I hadn't seen it with my own eyes, but I had felt Nakari's life snuffed out through the Force, and into that void where she had shone anger rushed in - anger, and a cold sense of raw power and invincibility...I took a step to join in the hunt but stopped, breathing heavily, unaccountably sweating even though I felt so cold inside and the power of the Force roiled within me... I shook with emotion and power, and none of it felt the way the Force had before...I saw what kind of space it was , a black hole that would always be hungry no matter how much I fed it. I might never feel warm again if I didn't get myself under control.

Luke feels the dark side and is tempted by the boost of power it offers him, but immediately identifies it as dangerous and unnatural. I can understand why Hearne wanted to include this - it is a book of firsts after all: Luke's first solo mission, his first time using telekenisis, and ending with story with his first experience of the dark side makes sense. But it wasn't necessary, which leads to:

2. How to push Luke to touch the dark side without killing someone he has romantic feelings for?

Also, obviously, shite of the bull (or nerf, if you prefer). Even if this brush with the dark side was absolutely necessary for the novel's climax, there's any number of ways it could be achieved. At this point, Luke is fresh from losing important people in his life - Owen and Beru, Ben, and Biggs - lumping another death on top of that a narrative trick for Luke to react not only to losing Nakari, but the others as well. But it's cheap, the first card in the deck, and why not show a bit of imagination? Luke is young and inexperienced enough at this point that any number of things could be the catalyst - the whole book he's struggling with his growing powers, why not try and reach too far in the firefight with the bounty hunters, his anger and frustration with himself in not doing enough trigger the dark side temptation? It would work thematically and doesn't involve a fridging that ultimately has very little payoff.

Because Nakari is killed less than ten pages from the end of the book - afterwards Luke grieves, but ultimately chooses to honour her memory and be grateful for what he learned with her, recommitting to becoming a Jedi. It's all very surface level, and once again a female character's death facilitates a male character's development. Was it so imperative that Luke lost someone he cared about as part of this story? Sure, this was a time of galactic civil war, and it's far from unrealistic that these stories have a high body count, but who to make collateral damage remains an authorial choice, and in this case Nakari Kelen was (a) a female character of color, (b) a love interest of the protagonist - not just of this book, but the entire Original Trilogy.

I don't know to what extent (if any) race had to play in the decision. I'm sure there was a segment of the fandom absolutely livid that Luke Skywalker kissed (and maybe had sex with) a black woman. Was her death LFL hedging its bets, or demonstrative of the general lack of attention/respect they show their characters of colour?

In any case this was a chance to stand out from the old EU and it's fridge full of Luke's dead girlfriends, but instead they chose to introduce and kill off Nakari for the sole purpose of Luke's manpain and character development, and that's gross.

And then there's this:

A grisly yet reliable fact about custom bounty hunter ships is that you can always count on them to have body bags stashed somewhere for the easy transport of their kills. They often have built-in refrigerated storage, too.

NAKARI IS KILLED AND LITERALLY STORED IN THE FUCKING FRIDGE I COULDN'T BELIEVE WHAT I WAS READING.

I really hope this was unintentional on Hearne's part, because yikes. He was halfway there, this book was full of interesting female characters who had agency - Drusil in particular was a delight with her super math and inability to understand human interaction. Nakari was full of life and fun - capable but relatable, showing a different side of the Rebellion and those that suffered under the Empire's rule. Fridging her in her first appearance is considerably more vile, because it reduces her to a footnote of Luke's story, a plot device to Help Him Grow, rather than a springboard to tell more of her own story.

Because Nakari was a compelling character ripe for spinoff potential. I would absolutely have read or watched her continued adventures, juggling missions for her father's Biolabs company and trying to aid the Rebellion, shooting her slug rifle and cracking wise, maybe even finding a way to amplify her mother's song Vader's Many Prosthetic Parts to really stick it to the Empire, or try and free the political prisoners on Kessel.

The old EU was made great by allies and enemies of Our Heroes showing up again to help or hinder them, and/or branching out into their own material. We fell in love with them, and followed their stories even as they diverged from the main saga, eager to read more about their lives.

Nakari Kelen never got that chance. In many ways, she exemplified what Disney Star Wars was to become: an exercise in wasted potential.

#star wars #star wars meta #heir to the jedi #nakari kelen #luke skywalker #fridging #it's cold in that fridge #star wars expanded universe #nucanon

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fashournalist · 3 years

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Conquering the Crown: Who Will Be The Next Miss Universe Philippines 2021?

Are you ready, Universe?

Tomorrow, the next Miss Universe Philippines will be crowned in Bohol, and I'd like to share my bets with you (as well as my thoughts on more candidates other than my Top 6. :)

But first, I have to admit I do have a bias for Cavite, Aklan, and Laguna because

1) Cavite is my birthplace and where I spent the first 16 years of my life;

2) Aklan is where my five dear brothers are from;

3) Laguna is where I spent seven eventful years as a UPLB student.

However, these biases aren't the sole reason I'm rooting for these representatives. I believe Victoria Velasquez Vincent, Leren Bautista, and Christelle Abello are really among the best candidates of this year's batch! VVV is actually my top one, followed by Katrina Dimaranan, Maureen Wroblewitz, and Ayn Bernos.

One of the smartest and most eloquent candidates of this batch, Victoria Velasquez Vincent from Cavite has emerged as the Interview Challenge winner, and rightly so. But she caught my attention even before that phase; her Runway Challenge was really impressive as well. As a heritage conservationist and architect, she's committed to solving environmental problems across the globe.

I really wish the winner would be a pure Filipino, but it so happened that VVV impressed me the most. She's half-Irish and half-Filipino, raised in New Zealand.

Now this one's a powerhouse. A pageant veteran, model, actress, and television host, I think (and thousands of others think, too) Katrina Dimaranan from Taguig is the most prepared of them all. She was appointed as USA's Miss Supranational 2018 and finished as 1st Runner Up at the world stage. She was also one of the title holders way back in Binibining Pilipinas 2012.

Kat's charming, authentic personality captivates anyone watching her or listening to her voice. You can see this through the way she nailed the challenges. And though she grew up in the US, she is a pure Filipina.

This woman needs no introduction--Maureen Wroblewitz, the winner of Asia's Next Top Model Season 5. Born in Saudi Arabia, she's a half-Filipina, half-German model and actress who is now representing Pangasinan as she fights for the crown. She has emerged as the Casting Challenge winner, but aside from that, all the results of the other challenges prove how excellent and enthralling she is as a model. Her intelligence can also be seen with every answer she delivers during Q&As.

The most inspiring candidate of all, Ayn Bernos of San Juan, proves that barriers can be broken and stereotypes can be shattered. Proudly standing at 5'3 with morena skin, Ayn represents the majority of Filipino people who are not influenced by foreign blood. I've closely followed her journey from the day she submitted her pageant application, and I'm so happy for her every step of the way. Her millions of followers on TikTok surely feel the same. We feel seen, we feel represented, we feel inspired to also reach for our dreams--no matter how impossible they may seem.

Ayn is a natural Filipina beauty, and she glowed further as she embarked on the road to the crown. Her wit, intelligence, and cheerful personality radiate in every appearance she makes, whether it's an interview or a commercial special by some of MUPH's sponsors.

With enchanting eyes, a driven attitude, and several beauty pageant titles under her belt, Leren Mae Bautista of Laguna is one of the most prepared candidates to represent the nation at the Miss Universe pageant this December.

I started knowing her through the tarpaulins in LB eight years ago. I was still in college, and Leren just won the crown of Miss Los Banos. She conquered the Binibining Laguna title as well. Since then, I knew this classic Filipina beauty and brain would one day captivate the world. Years later, she has placed as a 2nd Runner Up in Miss Globe 2019 and won in other pageants, too. Today, she's aiming for the universe and we all know she's ready.

Armed with an unstoppable grit, this dreamer put her life in the US on pause to once again fight for the crown of Miss Universe. Christelle Abello of Aklan has placed in the top 16 of last year's MUPH, and she has come back stronger this time around. Though she wasn't part of the Top 7 in the Interview Challenge, I think she's one of the most fluent and confident candidates.

Although she was born in America, she embodies the beauty of a real Filipina. I have to mention that I'm not a fan of her evening gown's design, but she still carried it well.

So there, now you know my Top 6! :) They've been my Top 6 for several weeks now, but this doesn't mean I'm not impressed by other candidates.

Michele Angela Okol of Siargao Island nailed the Preliminary Interviews! I haven't watched all the interviews since the KTX pass is just too expensive for me, but I was able to see a few on YouTube. And of them all, Michele's answers were the best. She was certain with her answers. Ingrid "Sam" Santamaria of Paranaque and Chela Grace Falconer of Misamis Oriental are some of the smartest and most fluent candidates as well. Sam placed second in the Interview Challenge.

The Filipina beauty of Janela Cuaton of Albay, Maria Corazon Abalos of Mandaluyong, Mirjan Hipolito of Angeles City, Simone Nadine Bornilla of Marinduque, and Princess Krista Singh of Pasig are some of the most outstanding in their batch. But I think the most outstanding beauty of all, is Jasmine Umali of Manila. She's like a living Mulan, or Barbie. And all these phenomenal women are smart and graceful, too!

Anyhow, if Gianne Asuncion of Cagayan Province wasn't diagnosed with COVID-19, for sure she would make it here and she'd be one of my bets. I hope she comes back next year, same with Maica Cabling Martinez of Nueva Ecija, who didn't make it in this year's Top 30.

You might be wondering why I haven't mentioned Steffi Rose Aberasturi of Cebu Province yet.

Honestly, I can't deny she's gorgeous from head to toe, well-prepared, talented, and confident, but I just cannot stomach supporting someone who supports Rodrigo Duterte. If she wins tomorrow, I will not bash her--I can see why she's one of the frontrunners--but I just cannot see myself rooting for her because of her political stance :( If she was not a DDS though, she would easily be one of my top bets, maybe my top 4 or top 5.

Steffi carries every outfit effortlessly, and her beauty can go from sweet and endearing to regal and fierce. I wish, before the national elections, her eyes would be opened to the atrocities of Duterte's war on drugs. (I also find Bea Luigi Gomez beautiful, but she said during the preliminary interview that the government is doing well. So, I'm afraid she might be a DDS, too. I hope not)

I know, people tell us to separate the pageant from political views, but the thing is, when a DDS gains more influence, they can influence voters to support Duterte, too. That's a real danger our country can no longer afford.

As for Kisses Delavin of Masbate, I'm inspired by her drive to pursue her dreams, not letting bashers stop her. But I just cannot see her wearing the crown, sorry :( I'm not a basher, I acknowledge she is beautiful, sweet, talented, kind, and smart. But I just don't see the fierce, palaban aura that we all need in a Miss Universe candidate. Never thought being baby-faced could be a disadvantage.

But anyway, if Ayn is slaying while breaking barriers and stereotypes, why can't Kisses, right? Kisses did well in every interview she handled. Although, I really didn't like her runway challenge where her hands were stuck on her waist. Good thing her walk improved in the swimsuit competition. Despite getting bashed and doubted, she fights with courage and passion, and that's something we can all learn from--whether we're part of Kissables or not.

Who will win tomorrow? I just can't wait to find out :)

I really wish I have the budget for a KTX pass so I could watch the coronation night in real-time. Sigh. That's 600 pesos! I'd rather spend it on samgyup. HAHA my love for food beats my love for pageants, even when I once dreamt to be Miss Universe myself lol.

How about you, guys? Who are your favorites? Who are your bets? Comment down below :) (wow youtube lang? haha)

Regardless of who wins, let's support her way to the crown. :) Go, proudly raise the Philippine flag, Miss Universe PH 2021!

PS. Photos came from Miss Universe Philippines' page, Philippine Star, and PeoPlaid. And I thank MS Paint because that's where I combined some of the photos haha.

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hunnybel · 3 years

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Eridan reading light novels to Tegiri because of a headcanon I have~ Which has manifested into a fic that can be found under the cut

It was a part of himself Tegiri was ashamed of. How could one such as himself, one whose very existence was so entangled with words and reading, have that as his biggest weakness? A burden, a flaw, something that made his already uphill climb to recognition ever more treacherous. Yes, he passed it off as slow and methodical, but few knew the truth that it wasn't him over-preparing and aiming for perfection. No; shamefully he was forced to take that time to even fully read through a passage a single time. Words and compositions had a tendency to get jumbled in his head, letters mocking him as he fought to grasp the meaning behind them. He could do it; it was a tedious effort, but he was capable.

Whether it was related to his future work or to his all-consuming hobby, the battle with literacy was a constant. Even those who, like him, were connoisseurs of the Eastern Alternian Animated Fine Arts, had gone so far as to mock his preference for the dubbed versions of that which they loved and shared. Of course they wouldn't understand, but dubs were severely underestimated regardless of it being the only real way for him to be able to watch shows without his curse bringing him untold aggravation.

The curse which he hated to name, in fear that recognising it would give more power, more credence to it. Dyslexia.

Because of the struggle, many works he had interest in tended to fall by the wayside. The original novelizations of the shows he enjoyed being one of the prime victims. And it was only recently that he had finally found a cure for that. His struggle may have been disheartening, but it ultimately led to the opportunity he had now been presented with and was even currently taking advantage of.

His matesprit reading to him.

Sure it had taken a while for him to open up about this particular fact to Eridan, but with that vulnerability came the offer, given by Eridan himself, to have the violetblood read aloud to him. Of course he was surprised by such a thing, but he would be the last one to turn down getting to hear the other's voice and at such length.

They were currently settled in against the futon-couch in Tegiri's hive, Eridan holding the book open in front of him as he relaxed against the back of the futon, Tegiri seated next to him, head nestled back, tilted to be able to vaguely read over Eridan's shoulder, though he wasn't actually trying to follow along that way. They were close. Close enough that Eridan didn't need to raise his voice too loudly for Tegiri to hear every word; close enough that Tegiri could feel the natural coolness of the other's body temperature radiating off him; close enough that he could feel the way the other shifted against the couch as he turned pages or adjusted his sitting position.

It was easy to get lost in these words; nothing frustrating, just the soothing sound of Eridan's voice speaking the story that was somewhat familiar, having known the anime adapted from it already. Tegiri really was completely charmed by his voice, slight speech impediment and all; in fact, it just added to how sweet it sounded to him. The way he pronounced some words was so pleasant, it almost made Tegiri smile, refraining only because that might get noticed and called out and he would be too embarrassed if questioned about it. And he didn't know how Eridan managed to bring the right intonations and dramatic flourish to every line without having read it all before or reading ahead, but he seemed to bring life to every word as he went. Maybe that was a little strange, to make such observations, but he didn't care. Tegiri felt special, privileged, lucky to have such an intimate moment, this sort of affection shown to him.

And it was then he realised he had been so focused on how Eridan sounded, he completely missed what he’d been saying. While trying to catch a familiar word or phrase on the page, Tegiri calculated he’d spaced out for about three paragraphs worth of words while listening to his voice. And now he was faced with a dilemma. Did he tell him and have to explain himself? Or did he just have to deal with having lost that part of the story? The longer he deliberated, the more story he lost, and in a moment of panic, he said a quiet "ah-" as if to interrupt. And it seemed to have gotten Eridan's attention.

"Hm? What is it?"

"Oh, uh…" Now would be the time if he was to say something. "I just remembered how that scene played out in the animated version." So that was how this was going to go. He was lying, of course. This part hadn't been animated, so he really was just missing a whole part of the story now.

"We should watch that together later, then." The small smile that accompanied the comment made Tegiri's pusher skip a beat. Ugh, he was going to be exposed as a liar but he couldn't say no to him.

"O-of course. When we finish the light novel series, we can watch the animated show." That seemed to satisfy Eridan and he went back to reading. Well, that had broken him out of his semi-dazed trance at least. He sat up a bit straighter to try and focus himself better. On the words this time and not just the voice saying them.

ーーーー

Maybe they would have to start cutting these reading sessions into shorter, more manageable snippets. Not because Tegiri got tired of listening, no, not at all. But he really was having a hard time keeping his attention on the content and words. Was he truly so hopeless that the sound of his matesprit's voice managed to entrance him more than the story that, had it been anyone else reading, would have him listening with far more than keen interest?

But he didn't want to seem unappreciative and tell Eridan to stop. He was at a bit of an impasse yet again. His determination to avoid saying or doing anything that might make Eridan feel as though he didn't love the kindness he was being given put him in a position where he didn't know what to do.

Tegiri liked to think he was generally level headed and not at all prone to impulse. Yet another lie he told himself. So in this second burst of panic, not wanting to lose any more of the story and being too cowardly to just tell him they should take a break, he distracted him in the quickest way he knew how. Sure he was still learning how to initiate and engage in physical affection, but that didn't mean he didn't have the desire to do so. And using it as a panic-induced interruption was apparently the way it manifested.

Pressing his lips against the soft, thin skin of the other's earfin was more pleasant than he expected. And the reaction was immediate. The reading stopped mid-word and Eridan seemed to jerk back at the sudden affection. Tegiri had a moment of fear that he had done something wrong, but the flush of violet in Eridan's cheeks and the cute way his earfin fluttered before he pressed a hand over it made the worry disappear.

"...What are you doing?!"

"Well, you see, I… Wanted to?" There was a hesitation in his tone which earned him a skeptical frown and a scoff.

"Were you too distracted to pay attention or somefin." Now it was Tegiri's turn to flush, his cheeks burning teal as he cleared his throat in the embarrassment of being caught.

"That… May have been the case. Sorry, I just found myself taken by your voice and my attention was far too much on that to really…. Take in what you were saying."

He had already gotten called out, how much more embarrassing could the truth be? His voice did trail off as he spoke, though, hints of sudden uncertainty creeping in at the edges.

"Are you serious?" It was more incredulity than annoyance in the violetblood's tone and Tegiri hoped that meant he wasn't upset. "You mean to tell me that you're too busy listenin' to my voice to pay attention to this series you've gushed about?"

"Well, when you put it like that…" It was just as embarrassing being worded that way as the thoughts he'd had about it himself. "...Yes, that is exactly what I am saying."

A pause. "We're just gonna have to reread it all again later then." With the book closed, it was safe to say they were done reading for the night. Tegiri still felt a bit bad, but it didn't seem as though Eridan felt any resentment for being, essentially, ignored.

"Alright… Sorry." Tegiri hung his head a bit, eyes turned away, a bit embarrassed and slightly ashamed. At least until he felt something gently grip his chin. His eyes darted to Eridan.

"We've been interrupted already, might as well go with it. I'll give you a reason to be distracted." The accompanying smile said all he needed to know as the space between their lips vanished.

#homestuck #eridan ampora #hiveswap #tegiri kalbur #my art #my writing #I haven't written fic in a very long time #erigiri

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dercolaris · 3 years

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Eleonora

Here you go, @temarcia - already done and translated. Scriddler of course. It’s extremly sad, but welp, I can’t help it. Sort of my style tbh.

Thanks again to @shin-arei for helping me with the translation <3

The fitting song:

https://youtu.be/ZzqTGTAuzLw

Uhm, yeah.. Have fun everyone..

The faint rustling of the wind slipped through the leaks in the dirty window, filling the small room with an unusual background noise. Jonathan lay completely motionless on the soft mattress, just listened to the fascinating sounds around him and registered slightly light-headed how the environment around him slowly changed. He blinked a few times against the persistent darkness, then smiled dejectedly. Basically, those noises were all he had left. As much as the former psychiatrist wished, his eyesight would never return. Hoping for it was a waste of time. The thin man turned on his side and ran his right hand over the velvety fabric of the bedspread. It tickled slightly, leaving an almost pleasant tingling sensation on his demolished skin. The brown-haired man mumbled to himself: "One would think that I would have got used to this eternal darkness, but to say this would be a bold lie." The Master of Fear sighed softly. Speaking his thoughts out loud at least gave him the deceptive impression that someone was right by his side and would give a meaningful answer after a while.

The reality was of course different. That longed-for answer would probably never come. He was a prisoner of his own nightmare and every attempt to break out of it failed miserably due to the fact that no one could turn back time. There was no hope. No light. Just darkness. Jonathan dug his fingers deeply into the warming fabric, burying his face in the comfortable pillow under his head. His body began to tremble by itself. The former psychiatrist didn't really mind the chilling temperature around him, but that evening the coldness held him in her icy hands. A stranglehold he couldn't really escape. The thin man suddenly felt a single tear find its way over a multitude of scars on his cheek and slowly slide down. He wiped his cool skin quickly. This whiny behavior was more than unacceptable for a seasoned academic like him. A thickening lump in his throat, however, indicated that all his efforts to stand against his feelings would fail at some point that night. You could ignore the sadness, banish it, deny it, curse it - in the end it would surface and lead to a downright collapse. With this in mind wasn't it actually wiser to give in to this inner urge to show emotional weakness? Now that he was alone?

The brown-haired man sat on the edge of the bed and put his hands on his knees. A few seconds passed without anything happening, brought a frightening realization for the criminal. He couldn't cry. Jonathan clenched his knees. No more tears would come. He couldn't really give his feelings the needed space, even if it would give him some relief in his troubled soul. It just didn't work. The spiral of thoughts in his mind was spinning again without ceasing. His left hand slid sideways into his straw-like hair and held the heavy head uncertainly on his thin fingers. He chewed his lower lip almost helplessly, staring at the floor with his blind eyes. The Master of Fear was about to rise from the bed when he heard a suspicious noise from the corridor. Out of habit, his opals looked at the door, or at least roughly in its direction. His brain still pretended to recognize shadows and outlines that he had seen sometime before the incident. Well-known places were impressively reconstructed from his memory. It doesn't matter whether these have changed drastically in the meantime.

This often led to unexpected difficulties in his orientation. In general, the familiar gave him security, and every novelty around him immediately stumbled him. The former psychiatrist listened into the darkness. Was it possible that he had just misheard? Quiet steps in the hallway quickly ruled out this possibility. Despite the noises, the gaunt man felt no fear or discomfort. He didn't own anything of value in his apartment and if a homeless person was content to use his nearly empty refrigerator, it shouldn't matter to him anymore. The brown-haired man had stopped eating two weeks ago. His hunger had long since passed and this circumstance made it at least possible for him to stay in his home. Nothing would be worse than wandering around outside Gotham in his wrecked condition to the amusement of all the gleeful people on the streets. The former psychiatrist pressed a hand to his cramping stomach. Even if the stomach occasionally rebelled, in the end it gave up constantly crying out for food. Most likely, the organ knew that this would remain just a wish and that nutrients would no longer force their way into the esophagus.

The pain slowly subsided. A cold wind played around his bony figure. The Master of Fear had long since decided on a quick way out of life and it was only a matter of time before death would knock on his door. It wasn't the plan to actually go the long road of starvation, but as long as he didn't know exactly how to do it, there was at least the hope of not waking up one morning due to lack of energy. The steps in the corridor came slowly closer and suddenly fell silent on the other side of the door. The thin man waited cautiously. The screeching of the hinges snuggled painfully against his ears, signaling that someone was entering the room. There was a thud, and then - silence. Suddenly it had become so quiet. Where was the wind? Where were the cracking branches? Where were the ravens in the tree tops? Jonathan looked around, disoriented, looking in the dark for the unannounced visitor.

After a while he heard the unusually low voice of an old friend: “Hey John. Don't worry, yeah. It's just me.” The former psychiatrist tried to fake a smile. Slight goose bumps crept down his back and gradually spread over his skin. He looked in the direction of the visitor and spoke in an alarming weak voice: "Edward. What a pleasant surprise. I'm very happy to see you again.” Those words hurt more than he expected. The former psychiatrist closed his eyes and heavily swallowed his emerging emotions. He heard the quiet steps again. Suddenly the tinkerer sat down next to him, the mattress gave way under the weight of the black-haired man. The Riddler breathed evenly, a long-forgotten warmth emanating from his body. The younger one finally spoke calmly: “You can hardly talk about seeing me again, right? I heard what happened and, yeah, how should I say that. I'm sorry, John.” The Master of Fear shrugged his shoulders slightly. Before he could reply, the other went on quietly: “I wasn't sure whether I should really come over or not. I mean, after the whole Waylon thing, you suddenly distanced yourself from everything and everyone and stopped showing yourself in public. Fuck, the underground has already made bets on whether you are dead or not."

The lean man laughed dryly at this message. He shuddered from the surrounding cold and had the strong impulse to take refuge in the warm embrace of the inventor. Contrary to his wishes, he replied exhausted: “I hope you were right with your bet. As you can see, I'm still alive.” To his astonishment, Edward didn't react calmly as usual. He didn't seem to be particularly amused by the statement. As if to confirm, the black-haired man hissed under clenched teeth: “It's not funny at all, John. Seriously. I just got half a shock when I walked in the door. You got so damn thin. Is there anything left at all? Only skin and bones it seems. When was the last time you ate something?” The former psychiatrist pressed his lips tightly together and stared at the floor in dismay. There was an awkward silence. Suddenly the older man felt the hand of the inventor on his. The Riddler slowly put his fingers around his, warmed his chilled skin. Even without his eyesight, the Master of Fear knew that the other was staring at him, waiting for answers.

He finally replied hesitantly: "I'm fine Edward. I don't need any help.” Both knew that this claim was nothing more than a lie. The younger one tightened the grip on his hand and didn't seem to let go of it again. Jonathan only shivered harder. The contrast between the inviting warmth of the black-haired man and his dying body increased with every passing second. He really wanted to be close, but at the same time there was a nagging fear of rejection. A monster like him was no longer allowed to receive affection. The tinkerer grumbled sourly: “You can fool the rest of the world, John, but not me. Should I put a funnel in your mouth and stuff you with food until you have some meat on your ribs again? Or would you prefer a cursed feeding tube? Your fucking decision.” The brown-haired man winced noticeably. He knew that he had always meant a lot to the younger man. Probably more than he wanted to admit.

There was a deeply hidden passion between them that had grown with each meeting in the past and almost exploded before his imprisonment. Only their worthless pride had prevented them from giving in to their lust in the end. But this was once upon a time. Jonathan was more than certain that the inventor had only come to him out of pity and would now look around for a more handsome partner. After all, the inventor wasn't exactly unattractive. Edward suddenly sighed softly and seemed to be reaching for something on the floor. Probably his shoulder bag. The black-haired man spoke calmly: “I brought you something. You have told me often enough that you love Edgar Allan Poe and that I should read something from him when I got the chance. I followed your advice.” With these words he put an arm around the older man and pulled him closer to his chest. He gasped in surprise, but did not evade the embrace.

He could hear the Riddler open a book and slowly turn the pages. Jonathan's heart suddenly began to beat faster. A few seconds passed before the younger one finally started reading aloud: "Eleonora by Edgar Allan Poe from 1842. I am come of a race noted for vigor of fancy and ardor of passion." The inventor's voice lit up the room with its soft sound, penetrating like a light through the darkness. The Master of Fear listened carefully. An indefinable feeling spread in his soul, touched him at points that he believed he had lost for a long time. Each additional line of the short story carried the gaunt man on, taking him to places he had avoided out of fear. Places of memories. Mostly memories of better times.

Tears pooled in his gray eyes, slowly running down his cheeks and falling unchecked off his chin. Edward, however, just read on, bravely struggled through the sometimes difficult formulations. "… for the Spirit of Love reigneth and ruleth, and, in taking to thy passionate heart her who is Ermengarde, thou art absolved, for reasons which shall be made known to thee in Heaven, of thy vows unto Eleonora.” The Riddler finished the short story, carefully closed the book. He apparently put it aside and finally wrapped his other arm tightly around the trembling figure beside him. The former psychiatrist cried silently, his weak fingers clutching the black-haired man's shoulders tightly. Edward whispered hoarsely: "John, I ask you, whatever you do, do not give up. I can really take a lot of your bullshit. Your hatred, your scorn, your rejection. If you scream in my ear right away that I should please get the fuck out of your life, that's okay too, just please don't die. I would not stand that. Your death is also my end and I'm afraid of dying so early in my life.”

The brown-haired man pressed his eyes tighter together and only held on to the younger man even more. The tinkerer slowly put the blanket around their body, giving the former psychiatrist the long-awaited warmth. The silence this time was extraordinarily beautiful. Reassuring. Balm for a broken soul. The younger one finally pulled him onto his lap and closed his arms around his narrow hips, pressing his fingertips into the worn clothes. Jonathan's lips quivered when he breathed softly: "Don't let go of me, Edward. Please, don't go. Stay."

#DC #Batman #arkham verse #Jonathan Crane #edward nygma #riddler #scarecrow #scriddler #riddlecrow #temarcia

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rixxy8173571m3w1p3 · 4 years

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The Truths Found On Petram Viridios IV (4/?)

A/N: Not only is this a long chapter, but I found a way to incorporate a prompt given to me by @hoodoo12 almost two years ago I think. Also, @twenties-sweetheart I incorporated what led the reader and Zeta-7 dating. This fic is almost done. I think there's only one or two chapters left. Hope you guys enjoy!

Read Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

_________

Chapter 4 : Your Answer

You remembered when you didn't love him; a time when you had hoped he'd be a father figure and a friend who you could play card games with on Tuesdays. You used to not know him; though once you did there was no turning back. You used to not need him, but you didn't know how you couldn't. It used to be a simple crush, but he already loved you from the start.

Perhaps, you had always known, but you didn't want to see it; you had wanted to know, but your brain at times didn't want to believe it. You thought words like his were meant for fairy princesses who lived in high towers above the heavens, for royals and the knights who attended to them; for anyone else….except you. It just didn't seem possible that this man could want you, but he did and explained for the last half hour as to why.

“That’s...that’s amazing!” you exclaimed despite yourself. “You really feel that way about me?”

He nodded, his face still flushed. “I do...I-I-I love you. Do you,” he gulped. “do y-you love me?”

Of course you did, you had said so a few times already, but he was going to need a better explanation; to be reminded continually. You screwed your mouth to the side, wondering how you could put it delicately. “Well…there's too much to say, and I know it would never be enough, but I can try. Oh, and if I start to wax poetic, then let's just say it's the writer in me trying to get out. Ricardo,” you paused, encouraging him to sit down because the poor man looked ready to shake out of his skin. “what I feel is beyond love; it's our souls dancing and singing in the night, moonlit kisses, and disappearing during daybreak. Why it's not even serendipitous, but a luxurious splendor you shower me in, day in and day out, with breaks which threaten to tear me into bits and madden me. It's an adventure," he perked up at this; it was familiar territory. "with discoveries and revelations that nip at my inward parts, and pains me with equal parts desperation, fear, and gladness." Caressing his lips with your fingertips, he sighed happily." You fill my mouth with bliss, working peace along the curve of my cheek, and color my world with mystical, intelligent sayings. Ineffable creature, your veracity; how you express yourself so honestly, I'm surprised the whole world hasn't fallen in love with you. Though, I'm glad you reserved yourself just for me.”

Placing a kiss behind his ear, he made a funny noise, but you continued. “To say I love you my dear Zeta-7 isn't enough, for you are as much of myself as I am of you. Like I've said before, I'll remind you as much as you need me to.”

“H-h-h-h-how do you know? When - when was it that y-y-you started to see me differently?”

The question really struck you as odd considering it wasn't in any of his usual tones; he had seemed so sure of himself earlier, and now self-doubt peaked it's little head out. It was solemn, in a faraway voice, followed by a frown, and the deepening of the lines in his forehead. You stood up, seeing as he seemed upset, and he took this opportunity to go and make some tea; it was one of his coping mechanisms. Soon the scent of lavender filled the house; he returned and set down the cups carefully so as not to spill it.

“Oh,” he frowned; a bit tired from the emotional rollercoaster he had been in for most of the day. “I'm s-s-so sorry. If only I-I kept things simple, then it wouldn't have gotten so complicated.”

“It's okay,” you whispered. “we're both a little flustered. It….it really took a lot of courage to say what you had said earlier. So you shouldn't apologize for being human.”

“But I'm - I'm still so sorry.”

You moved your chair as close as you could, stretching out to work your fingers through his soft hair, and managed to find the beginnings of silver strands, but you said nothing of it. “You should have seen how you looked when you told me you loved me. You were so earnest and charming."

He reached out to take your hand and place it upon his heart. It was beating wildly, almost dangerously you thought. You waited until he calmed a little, and when the heavy blush and the redness of his ears softened, you knew that it was time. He really was too much, too good for you, too lovely, and you sincerely hoped you wouldn't offend him. “I hope you're ready, cause this really is going to be a long story. I think by telling it, it'll make my answer to your proposal more believable.”

________________

For years, you two had lived in the same town, in the same neighborhood, only houses away from each other. It was funny how you two hadn't met before, though Rick would later tell you it was because of his job. At the time, you would say you were old enough to know what heartbreak felt like, as well as what warmth and kindness should be; though you hadn't been in any sort of serious relationship. Like any woman your age, you had dreams of meeting someone, but for the most part, your love life wasn't first and foremost on your mind; you were busy trying to get through everyday.

So when you met Zeta-7, it never occurred to you how much he would someday come to mean to you; let alone how much your life would change. Now, it had taken a while, a little longer then you'd care to admit. It certainly wasn't love at first sight, for under the set of circumstances in which you two had met, Rick had come off as a friendly old man. But of course, after helping you carry groceries, a cup of tea, and a ukulele song, you warmed to him and became fast friends.

At first, you were hesitant in allowing him into your home; you'd seen enough Dateline to make you cautious. So, you two would meet on your porch on a regular basis, though it was not long before you felt safe enough to let him come over and repair small appliances; it was fascinating watching him tinker. And when he wasn't too busy, you'd go and see what he was doing in the garage. Perhaps you should have known then that he was different, but you had no point of comparison, and just went with it.

Sometimes, you two would just watch TV or have an occasional dinner at Shoney’s, or a late-night ice cream on your front porch. And you'd listen to his laughter; how his happy noises seemed to fill up the house. You were delighted by the nuances of his gentle voice, and at night, he'd tell about the stars, going into detailed explanations of constellations and about other heavenly bodies. It made you wonder what was out there, and it only fed your curiosity. You were comforted by his warm presence, thinking it was nice to have a father like figure around again, to fill up the time, and carry on long, meaningful conversations with. His eye for detail and selective word choice made most of your conversations laid back but stimulating.

Whether it was in your house, in his kitchen, or a quick cup of tea in the garage, he enjoyed sharing his homemade brews and you enjoyed drinking them. While at first glance he seemed simple, you took quick notice of his genteel manners, in the way he talked, in his general presence which you found was pleasing. It did not take long to notice that he was a learned man, with various degrees which hung in the left corner of his living room; he was actually a doctor in several meanings of the word. Perhaps in all meanings of the word.

Watching him mutter to himself, blissful, carefully piecing together a device that did who-knows-what filled him with joy. And you had always assumed that anyone above thirty-five - at least from what sense and sensibility told you - could not have any passion left, but you saw it every time he showed you a new invention; you saw him as he should be. As though he were this character who stepped off a page, you found yourself growing ever so curious about his thoughts, feelings, and machinations of his wonderful mind. You wanted to get close, to know him better, and he took this positively as you wanting to be best friends. And when he held you in his arms for the first time, you knew that he had ruined men for you. He wasn't supposed to feel so strong, and his arms weren't supposed to be sure, and hold you warmly, and most of all, there wasn't supposed to be a flutter.

Now having it formed in your mind that he was indeed a man, you could not smother your curiosity, though still, you tried to conceal it. It felt good to feel cared for again, and you didn't want to threaten it. Still, the affection you held for him was not the kind one felt for a parent. And your hopes and dreams were shattered, with this sudden, intense awareness of him, conscious of every breath he took, of his mobile features, recognized every nuance in his reflections.

All those times when you'd watch him dance in the kitchen, swaying about, more spritely than others your own age, you'd laugh, and he’d ask you to join him. And when your hands touched, it was like a current passed through you, and that giddiness would last all day. Those hands, which could create worlds, whisk a cream, or trace pictures in the sand, you could hold them in yours for eternity. Even longer, if what he spoke of at times was true.

If he had weeks where work kept him busy, he would call you, and you'd drop what you were doing to listen; he was always so excited to hear your voice; it lightened up your day. Or when he finally saw you after a few days, he'd greet you with a warm hug, and you'd return with equal enthusiasm. At times, you felt as though neither wanted to let go and held on to each other longer than what was platonically acceptable, but you'd pretend as though nothing happened, even if your heart was screaming. Why you'd almost lose yourself in his grasp.

As a man who wore his heart on his sleeve, you never felt as though there were any hidden agendas, or that he had a pervy attraction to you. On the contrary, you felt like the pervert for feeling all giddy and excited whenever he spoke with enthusiastic intelligence or showed you his experiments. There were times when you'd reach out and pat him on the back, telling him he had done such a good job, and he'd gift you with his winning smile, which caused unusual thoughts to cross your mind, and it messed you up. What was he to you?

Whether you were at home, or you sat in his home for a tea party, you knew something was the matter with you. You were a mess of feelings, of messy, happy, effervescent feelings, which you expressed in your work, in your writing. Harmless thoughts, which lingered and filled the contents of a novel. It was the story of a young woman who had fallen in love with her older, mute neighbor. In your head, you reasoned that your character was nothing like him, that the older man, as brilliant as he was in mathematics, science, and botany, who expressed himself through his actions, and kindness was made up. Perhaps your readers thought the same, but the modest ebook sales only reinforced that maybe there was something to it.

Missed glances, brief moments where you touched, awkward laughs, and a heart heavy feeling sitting on your chest; he was always on your mind. In between your issues, when you were doubtful, he'd reassure you of your capabilities, and when he felt lacking, you'd remind him of his genius. And while there were many moments which had been lovable, which were dear to you, you replayed the times that were nearest to your ideals; of what fits into your daydreams. You're not sure when, but it had been you who started to flirt regularly, and watch him blush, stammer, and get flustered; it gave you an odd thrill knowing it had been you who had caused him to feel as such, but then it would trouble you all the more. It wasn't fair to him, and you weren't helping your cause.

What were you doing, trying to toy with the feelings of an old, lonely man, who had little in the world, but your friendship and a few possessions; it filled your heart with grief. You didn't want to hurt him, you just wanted him to think you were beautiful, smart, funny, and well everything you'd want your crush to feel. If you were unhappy, he'd cheer you up with gifts, desserts, and his generous affection. For the most part, you knew his intentions were honorable, but in your head, you'd hope differently.

It could not work, he was so much older than yourself; not that you cared. For all you knew you were like the daughter he never had. In your heart, you tried to resolve that all you felt was friendship, but then he'd smile, laugh, or be kind to you and you were falling apart. You weren't a kitten, you had always liked men your own age, but you didn't just like him, you were intoxicated by him.

He wasn't even handsome. Well…at first, you didn't think so. You did however find him strangely adorable, and lovely. He was tall and slender, so he wore clothes well. Very gentle and nice, clean-shaven, with abundant blue hair, with the exception of the few strands which choose to be rebellious, prominent buck teeth which gave him a childish innocence, but straightforward, electric blue eyes which reminded you otherwise.

Your eyes would follow him as he moved about the room. Rick had long lashes for a man and was just as impressive overall, and intelligence was even more so. Could anything possibly stop him? Death perhaps, though Zeta-7 didn't care to admit how age played a big role in his energy levels at times, but you knew it was to be expected. You knew what you were getting yourself into when it came to dating someone so much older than yourself; if he'd consider it that is. For hours, he somehow kept up with your foolishness, and you barely managed to follow his genius.

You'd follow if he asked you to come, and in time you knew you were his. You felt loyalty to him, the kind which you knew you'd never revoke. You thought at first that it was his personable nature which had endeared you to him, but it was everything. He was everything.

Zeta-7 had always been affectionate, but not in the way which made you worry. You craved it, his attention, his affection, and wished to be closer than woven gossamer, and took everything he was willing to give you. You were not in love, you would tell yourself, it was merely infatuation. He was simply a cheerful grandpa kind of man, whose arms you would melt in, whose gentle, and generous affection you were greedy for. You were selfish, that was simply it.

Then came the defining moment, which happened one night while you two were cooking together. You needed a few cloves of garlic to chop for the eggplant lasagna, and he just kept handing you cloves. You told him you had enough, and he smiled warmly, telling you there could never be enough garlic and you stopped. You two stared at each other for what seemed like hours even though only seconds passed. It was as though you had come to an understanding.

His winning smile had been the most beautiful thing you had ever seen, his eyes captured you, and you knew for a fact that what you felt was something greater than friendship. The rest of the evening you found yourself in a daze, and hesitant to be near him. In your heart, your feelings felt as though it were almost forbidden, as though you shouldn't feel this way for someone who was a great friend. You blamed these feelings on your own impatience, inexperienced like the man before you. Yeah, you wanted his attention, and he had been attentive. Everyday he made sure your emotional needs were met, he'd probably do just about anything if you asked him to, but you were scared, perhaps just as afraid as he was. Still, the words themselves were an enigma, they burned, they toiled, begging to be said, but you were afraid. Yet, you searched his face, and found the answer; you were falling in love with him.

His sing-song voice twisting and curling about you. You wouldn't risk it you told yourself, but before you went to bed that night he called you and apologized if he had offended you. “No”, you had said, “I'm just not feeling well, but I'll be fine. I promise, I'm going to be okay, so you don't have to worry about me.”

“I-I-I can't help it, I care about you.” was his sincere reply.

Those dizzying warm feelings of affection bubbled and boiled, and you did your best to try to repress them. As usual, he wanted to help you feel better, but you were afraid it would ruin things; you'd rather hurt yourself, then hurt him, and never see him again. For the next week, you thought long and hard, and the next time you two met, you were sitting in his home for afternoon tea, and you told him of how you felt right out of the blue. “Rick, I like you.”

Being the dear man he was, he thought you were talking in platonic terms. “Gosh, really? Well, that's why I'm - why I'm glad we're best friends.”

“No,” you sighed. “that's not what I meant.” You watched as his smile turned to fear, but you continued. “I know you're much older then I am, and you probably see me as some kid, but I'm a grown woman, with adult feelings. And for a while, I thought it was nothing, but I can't ignore it anymore. I care about you as my friend and I understand if you don't want that to change, but I see you as a man, and I hope you realize that I like you so much. There's nothing you can say which will change it because I don't want to change these feelings of mine. I'm not saying this to make fun of you, or because I'm lonely, but to let you know that I like you and that I'm not ashamed.”

So what if you were a kitten, you cared about him, and you knew that if he were to let you down, he would be gentle about it. The sweet, kind man that he was, gently, and carefully placed a shaky hand upon yours and gave it a squeeze. And he cried, “Gosh, you - you don't know how relieved I am. I-I-I thought I was a pervert for-for feeling the way I had.”

“Wait, you….you like me too?”

He groaned, as though he were in pain, and studied you before he continued. “I-I-I don't understand, I'm - I'm so old and gross, and y-you are like a freshly bloomed rose. H-h-h-h-how…..w-w-why?”

You reassured him, taking his hand in yours, rubbing your face into his shaky palm. “Because I just do.”

When he calmed, he looked at you with such affection, and the soft look he gave you made your breath caught. He was in love with you. Even back then, his feelings had been greater, but you dared not believe it. How could you believe it?

Your kind, gentle friend had won you over with such kindness and attracted you with a tender heart. When did you know? In moments when you saw him, not the old man, but of the softness, the beauty of an intriguing mind, and of winsome determination to be happy and to help you be happy too. You held each other so tight, you felt as though you were bound together.

He held you with a strength you did not realize one his age even still had. This was a time before kisses, before great declarations. It was a time to feel, to learn, to hold one another in a soul-crushing embrace. His heartbeat was alarmingly fast, and there had been something almost boyish in the way he placed a tress of hair behind your ear. You were the first to admit your feelings, but he had been the first to ask. A nervous chuckle escaped him, and a little lip-bite followed. “I-I am quite fond of you, and seeing that we - that our feelings are mutual, would - will you…will y-y-you go steady with me?”

As archaic as the terms might have been, it was still charming, and being the kind of man he was, you knew he meant it, and that there was only one way to answer. “Yes, I'd love to.”

Of course, you would go out with him. And forever, that memory would be etched upon your soul.

________

With wide eyes, he remembered how ashamed he had felt. He sat up, ready to shield his face, but you held your arms open. Like back then, you held each other in a soul-crushing embrace. “Do you understand now, my dear, dear friend? There was no way it could have been anyone else. Like a tree planted by streams of water, I've flourished under your attentions. You see me…. you see what I am, as I am. We make each other happy, every day, all the time.”

You two were not wary strangers; passersbys in one another's narratives; not in this instance at least. Neither were you two butterflies emerging from cocoons; descendants of lovers found in a field of barley; discovering and reveling in springtime gusts and gales. No, you were not beautiful like alabaster apples on a ledge; nor figments of one's imagination. You were, however, on the cusp of change; this was the rest of it; the continuation of what had been attempted two years ago; it was nothing like how you thought it would be, but the expectancy of the moment was palpable nonetheless. For your part, you admired the lovely scarlet coloring which crept up his neck and tinged the top of his ears; how becoming it was as well as boyish. And if it weren't already obvious, you didn't need time to think of a reply, and with clear purpose, you answered. "And dear, well, we are still friends. We're best friends. The sweetest, dearest friends that anyone could ever have, except that we love one another. Oh, I do want to. I will marry you."

Oh, whatever future there might've been destined for him, you altered its course by your acceptance of his proposal. Unlike the nihilistic view where no one had a choice, and what had been written was set in stone and that nothing mattered, you decided would not be so. In partaking in this agreement, you had taken on the consequences of what might occur in connection with Rick's work life. You had also taken on the responsibility of what you'd have to do once Rick surpassed the ability to mechanize himself any further than he already had. Still, you could live with this new burden because you were no stranger to heartache and had to make the best of what you two had; love made you do it; unbidden joy was your reward.

Tbc

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e11evenkeys · 3 years

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Pitch: The Adventures of Danger Rabbit- Chapter 2 Friendly Friendly (part 1)

Long story short, my dad wasn't arrested. Ms. Harper made her displeasure quite clear as far as my new form was concerned, but I wasn't taken away. Because of my mistake, dad had a reputation for being a careless father, and I was seen as a delinquent. Teachers started watching our family like we were career criminals, but dad raised me to be a good kid.

Regardless of the truth, I had a reputation that stuck with me as I grew up. Even into my junior year of high school, kids thought I was bad news. It didn't help that I had the worst luck imaginable, unlike Mr. Nickels, who I still had yet to find. Trouble seemed to seek me out. Just the simple act of walking home from school was dangerous enough to warrant fear of chaos. Freak accidents were a norm, and they only fueled the fire when it came to the negative light everyone shined on me. Of course, my dad always had the worst end of the fiascos because he had to deal with the aftermath.

If I had any luck at all, it was spent when I had the fortune of finding my two best friends.

B James was a girl who moved to town after my accident. Her parents were professional magicians, so naturally, I tried to get in good with them. I had hopes of them helping me. It turns out I didn't have to work too hard. BJ was fascinated with my form and impressed with my ability to create my own magic. I told her I didn't mean to transform myself, but I don't think she cared. She wanted to make new spells like her parents, and I suppose she thought I could help her. She overlooked how the rest of the school avoided me, but that might have been easy, considering no one flocked to her lunch table any more than my own. Remember when I said creating new magic was dangerous, well, BJ didn't care. We hadn't even graduated high school yet, but she'd created more spells than a person could count. It's important to keep in mind most of those spells had adverse effects or didn't do what they were meant to, but they did something.

My friend Wesson, a satyr I met in my freshman year of high school, didn't use magic at all. To be fair Fae, because of their natural abilities, didn't need magic as much as humans did. Even I had natural powers after my transformation like super hearing and invisibility. Which I'm sure is how Mr. Nickels managed to avoid capture for so long if he also possessed the same abilities. Wes being a satyr, was super fast and super strong, among other things, whether he appeared to be or not. We became friends after I tried to join the school's Creature club. There weren't many Fae that went to our school, so the club was meant to be a way of letting them all meet one another. Unfortunately, when I tried to join the club, someone pointed out I was born human, and that I was only what I was because I cursed myself. I couldn't join the club. Technically they weren't allowed to exclude anyone, but I thought it best to pick my battles wisely and let it go. Wes, being the best guy in the world, found me the next day and told me he thought the other kids were dicks for not letting me join the club. From that day on, I couldn't remember a time I couldn't fall back on the friendship Wes and I had.

It was two weeks till summer break. All of the ends of the year testing was out of the way, so everyone was waiting for the school year to come to an end. That Friday afternoon, I decided to walk BJ home. Despite my being close to Wes and BJ both, they never seemed to like one another. Every day I'd have to make a conscious decision whether to hang out with BJ, who loved playing magician and getting into trouble, or Wes, who was basically the brother I never had. BJ won that day because Wes had a meeting with the principal.

BJ should have taken the bus home, but I guess that would have been less time she got to work out new magic with me. We took a lot of back roads that day that eventually spit us out into the Dead Woods. It was the town's biggest forest, and it sat in the middle of everything. We learned in history class that old settlers named it the Dead Woods because back in the early days, when people were still coming up with most of the modern magic, they had to go far away from homes and buildings so bad magic wouldn't destroy anything. A lot of people died out there. Despite the bad history, it was a beautiful place as long as you knew where you were going.

"So there's this summer internship I read about," BJ said as we walked under branches while leaves crumbled under our footsteps.

"What kind of internship?" I asked.

We stopped walking so she could take her spell book out of her bag. The pages of her hand made spiral held weight and took time to flip through.

"For magicians. I thought you might want to go for it," she added.

"You want me to be a magician?"

"You created a working transmutation spell when you were 11."

I laughed at her, calling it a "working spell."

"Yea, and I've been trying to undo it ever since," I said with my amused tone still vocal.

"I could help you."

"I don't want to be a magician," I said in my most definitive voice possible.

"But I do."

I took a few steps away. I didn't want to stand too close while her book was out. Some of the stuff in that thing didn't need words to be activated. As she flipped through the pages, there was a danger similar to throwing a grenade into a kid's birthday party. Pages glowed and faded as her hands turned them over. I'm not sure how she managed to carry something around like that without constantly hurting herself.

"Then you should do it," I said as I crossed my arms and leaned against a tree.

She came near, and I knew to expect puppy dog eyes to fluff some kind of catch. That's what people do when they want something

"I need you."

I asked, "why," but she turned away.

"I need your spell," I thought she said, but I couldn't make out her words for sure, and with my big ears, that meant she was really quiet.

"What?" I asked.

"I need your spell."

I stood up straight.

"The spell that gave me fur and left with only eight fingers," I said before I continued with, " the spell that made my feet too big to wear shoes and ears big enough to hear my dad when he gets off at night."

"I have to submit a working spell to be considered."

"Then use one of yours," I said.

"None of mine work."

"What about the one you use to change your hair color?"

"It blinds anyone who sees me cast it."

"Then just use my spell, you don't need me for that, I wrote the words in some book, and I'll give it to you."

I wanted to get off the subject. Anyone who knew me knew how long I tried to find a cure for my curse. After years of turning over stones to no avail, of course, I gave up hope. That's not to say I didn't wish and dream for a way to change back, but being a bit of a pessimist meant I couldn't help but see the uneasy reality of how unlikely a cure was.

"It wouldn't be right to take credit for your work."

"But, it's alright to strong-arm your friend into an internship that'll take up our entire summer?" I didn't mean to sound nearly as argumentative or sarcastic as I must have at that moment, but it came out that way.

"There's a chance we won't even get it," she said, basically pleading with me at that point.

"If I say yes, will you leave me out of whatever experiments you're about to do?"

"But I had something special planned for today."

"That's my price."

"Deal, but you have to stick around to watch."

"In case something goes wrong?"

"I didn't say that."

"You didn't have to," I replied.

We exchanged a mutual grin before she adjusted her glasses and finally flipped around in her book to find the newly crafted spells. We spent most of the afternoon in the woods. BJ wrote a spell for growing plants faster, but it made anything made of wood burst into flames, including all the papers in my backpack. She tried to put out the fires with another spell meant to create rain clouds, but it summoned a swarm of butterflies that flew into the flames. Needless to say, they all died. They died quickly, but at least the fires went out.

By that time, it was getting dark.

"We should get moving," I said as I picked our bags off the ground burnt as they might have been.

"We will never speak of what happened here to anyone, right?"

"Like always," I said with a chuckle before handing BJ her ruined bag.

We started on our way out of the woods.

"Do your parents know you're applying for this internship?" I asked.

"Not yet."

"Don't you think they should know?"

"I'll tell them once I, " she started to say before I cut her off with, "did you hear that?"

"Hear what," she asked.

There was a sound coming from the bushes ahead of us. It was too big to be a cat, dog, or rabbit.

"Stand back," I said as I put my arm in front of BJ.

"Is someone there," I called out into the distance, but no reply was returned.

Only the rustling of the bushes broke the silence as something or someone came near. It was close. There was a momentary pause of nothing but the bugs around us falling silent, and then whatever it was lunged out at me.

It was Wes. He made me fall backward and rip the arm of my button-down shirt.

"Shit," I yelled out.

He tried to catch my arm on my way down, but he was too slow.

"Sorry, dude," Wes said with a laugh as he helped me to my feet.

"What are you doing out here?" BJ asked in a tone more annoyed than me, but I was the one with the ripped shirt.

"I need Pitch."

"Well, he's walking me home from school."

"Schools been out for 3 hours now, and you know how to get home."

"You want me to walk by myself," BJ asked.

"No one ever offers to walk me home, and we're the same age," Wes said sarcastically.

I cut in, "Wes, what did you need my help with?"

"I need your ears," he said.

"Let me get BJ home, and then I'll swing by your place."

Neither of them was even looking at me anymore; they were staring one another down.

"Alright, just make sure 'Bug Burner' isn't with you."

"You saw that!" BJ exclaimed.

"I'll be there, alone," I said as I held BJ back from Wes.

A few uneasy, and unwelcoming glances were exchanged before we took to our separate ways.

"I don't know why you hang out with him," BJ argued.

"Wes is cool," I said.

"Wes is just short of being a toddler. He doesn't use magic."

"I don't use magic."

"That's different; you can't afford it."

"That hurt," I said.

"You know what I mean."

#anthropomorphic #magic #forest #outdoors #nature #lady bug #satyr character #original character #story #chapter

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jamkookies · 5 years

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° Bon Voyage °

• Part IV •

Call me Chameleon

You had been tossing and turning for a while now.

You were aware that your constant movements were probably not letting him rest in peace , but you couldn't help it. Your skin felt hot to the touch and there was this inexplicable thirst that had you gasping for air. You had no idea whether it was the uneasiness of sharing the same bed with him or just plain dehydration.

Whatever the case, you had to get some water right now.

Giving up on the restless bustling, you stand up in a sitting position.

You are about to pull the sheets off of you, when you pause, your hand mid-air.

The rays of moonlight cast over Jungkook, illuminating his face in an other - worldly aura.

His mouth is slightly open, his long, dark lashes brushing against his skin. He has his hand relaxed on the pillow, right next to his curls,spread out around his head like a dark halo.

You can't stop looking at him, mesmerized by what's in front of you.

You've never seen him like this - so at peace and innocent. He never wants to show his vulnerable side to others and you do the same yourself, but there's something so beautiful that you find in this unseen side of him.

Your breath hitches in your throat.

You get up from the bed and pull the sheets tighter over him to make sure he won't get cold.

He stirs but doesn't wake up. You glance at him one more time and leave the room.

You go down the stairs soundlessly, trying not to wake anyone up, while savoring the feel of the cool surface of the tiles under your bare feet.

You enter the kitchen, heading right for the fridge and start when you see its door halfway - open, its light casting a shadow onto the floor.

You put a hand on your mouth and squeak like a mouse.

The door opens wider and you see Taehyung sitting in front of the fridge,a celery stick dangling from his mouth.

"Hyung, what the hell?" You whisper in a shout.

"I wav hungy", he says, his words barely discernible from the food in his mouth.

You sigh through your nose and join him in front of the fridge.

You take out a bottle of water, and chug it down, the cold liquid quenching your thirst.

After you're finished, Taehyung grabs the bottle from your hands and takes a sip himself.

"Didn't you eat enough for dinner?" You ask him.

"A little extra food never hurt nobody." He looks fixedly at your neck. "What's up with you? Why are you all sweaty?"

"It's hot," you reply.

A grin appears on his face and he wiggles his eyebrows.

"Did Jungkookie, perhaps take off his shirt?"

You pull him hard by the ear and he groans in pain.

Then, suddenly you hear steps coming closer.

You peek at the fridge door and see Jungkook standing like a statue in the center of the room.

"There you are," he says. "I was wondering where you'd gone."

You gulp.

Did he hear any of the things Tae said?

"Where else would I go?"

"I don't know, I woke up and noticed the empty bed, so I thought you had been sleepwalking or something."

He looks at the bottle of water Taehyung is holding. "Hey, gimme that. I'm thirsty."

His throat, glistening with sweat, bobs with each gulp of water and you realize you are staring.

Clearing your throat, you get up and plaster a nervous smile on your face.

"I'm gonna go to bed now. Good night," you say and start going for the door, leaving a confused Jungkook and Taehyung staring after you.

* * *

There was nothing else in this world that you hated more than the sound of the alarm going off.

Every single morning you woke up, cursing passionately at it and wanting to smash the thing into pieces.

Today was no different.

With your head still on the pillow, you lift a hand towards your phone on the bedside table and press the Turn off button angrily.

You rub the sleep out of your eyes and stare at the ceiling for a moment.

The room is bright due to the sun being already up in the sky.

There are clothes strewn out onto the floor, bottles of perfume laying around carelessly, a foot next to your cheek-

Wait, what?

You turn your head sideways and see that your right arm is wrapped around Jungkook's foot, cradling it like a teddy bear. One of your own feet is wrapped around Jungkook's arms, while the other one is thrown across his back, riding his shirt up and revealing a sliver of skin.

You jump back as if you'd been electrocuted.

Jungkook's eyes shoot open and he looks around frantically.

"What? What happened?"

"N-nothing", you stutter. "There was a mosquito."

His expression softens and he looks at you with sleepy eyes.

"Good morning," he says, with a groggy voice.

You try to compose yourself.

"Good morning," you reply, and muster up the courage to get yourself off the bed.

* * *

Trying to forget what happened a while ago, you take small bites out of your pancake.

"How did you all sleep last night?" You ask.

"Like a king", Namjoon is quick to answer, rubbing the fact that he had gotten the king - sized bed all to himself into your faces.

He gets numerous glares from the others and you can't help but do the same.

"I can't say the same thing," says Yoongi. "Taehyung kept hugging me in his sleep."

Tae looks at him sheepishly and offers him a boxy smile.

"Can't help it when hyung is so tiny."

Yoongi blinks.

Twice.

"At least you did get some sleep," Hoseok interferes. " I had to listen to conversations about how the sand was called like that because it was between the sea and the land all night long."

"Hyung, but it's true," says Jimin.

"I know, right?" Adds Jin.

"Oh, and by the way, why were you hugging each other's legs this morning?" Hoseok continues, looking at both you and Jungkook.

Kookie scrunches up his brows.

“We were?”

"Yeah, I came into your room to borrow your charger and noticed that you were tangled up with each other."

You refuse to get flustered by this conversation.

"There was only one bed, hyung," you say. "What did you expect?"

Jungkook nods in affirmation and goes back to eating.

"Well, if you're done eating breakfast, we would like to inform you about your plans for the rest of the day," says the staff member you recognised as Ji-Ho.

You all turn to him, eager to learn more about your activities.

"You will be split into four teams, each consisting of two members respectively. This is supposed to be a bonding experience between the two members, so make sure to have a good time."

He hands you another basket with rolled up papers, and you all retrieve one.

You spread it open and read Team B on it. Searching through the members you look for another paper with the same writing till your eyes find it.

It’s Jimin.

"Jimin - ssi!" You yell.

He looks at your paper too and when he realizes what it says, he breaks into a huge smile.

"Y/N!"

You both clash into each other and you hug him tight, squeezing the life out of him.

"Here we go again." Yoongi sighs and rolls his eyes.

You take a look at the others, curious about the outcome.

Namjoon is paired with Jin, Jungkook with Yoongi, and Taehyung with Hoseok.

At least you'll feel comfortable for the rest of the day.

* * *

You figured out that wearing all - black wasn't the wisest decision to make, since it would absorb all the heat, so you decide to change into something else.

You had this weird obsession of wearing the same color from head to toe. You had to admit, it was partly because it made you look taller, but you also liked to keep things minimalistic.

You were clad in beige, including your cap, loose tank top, shorts and, sneakers. You also had tied your hair into a short ponytail at the back of your head.

Brown strings kept escaping from it but you didn't really care, as long as most of it would be out of your face.

"Are you planning to merge into the buildings?" Jimin asks as he takes a good look at you. "Is this some sort of camouflage?"

You look down at your clothes, indeed realizing that they shared the same color with the buildings.

"Call me Cameleon from now on, " you say while smiling.

You sling an arm over his shoulder and guide him into the sidewalk.

You had both just come out of your apartment and started taking a walk along the streets.

You had your hands occupied - one holding the self-camera and the other your phone.

He kept making funny faces at it and you copied him from time to time.

"So, where are we gonna go first?" He asks.

"I don't know. What do you think?"

"I actually wanted to walk along the seaside," he admits. "Then, I was thinking about going shopping later on."

His smile falters and he looks at you warily.

"But if you want to go somewhere else, then it's okay..."

You squish his cheeks and ruffle his head.

There was no competing against Park Jimin's cuteness and that was something you could all agree on.

"Jimin-ssi, I don't give a damn about where we go, just don't make it boring."

His whole face lights up in anticipation.

Now he's the one throwing an arm across your shoulders.

"All right, let's get it!" He yells and you echo him.

* * *

Your first destination is the bazaar.

You stroll through the alleys, lined with endless items hanging on both sides of the street. Ceramics, jewelry, paintings, whatever you could ask for. Still, you had your eye on the Henna tatoos standing a few feet away from you.

Jimin follows your line of sight and grins.

"I was thinking the same thing," he says.

You both head there, excitement visible on your face.

You flip through the pages of the sample book but can't seem to find what you want.

So you explain in detail to the artist in English the image on your mind.

Jimin opts for a moon, and a star on his leg, instead.

After you're both finished, you take a look at your own henna on the inside of your forearm and see countless tiny dots resembling shiny stars.

You have galaxies in your eyes.

You smile to yourself, the words in your mind still lingering.

* * *

The seaside is absolutely gorgeous. You just can't get enough of the fresh, salty air filling up your lungs. The sun hurts your eyes but you don't care and direct your face towards it.

"Do you want to get blind?" you hear Jimin say.

You chuckle lightly.

"I have a cap, you know."

"You're literally staring at the sun."

"Let me live."

"Alright, alright,"he says, palms up in surrender.

At the corner of your eye you detect an ice cream cart.

"What flavor?" You ask, eyes still there.

Jimin doesn't even turn his head.

"Vanilla."

"Ok, wait here. I'll go get it."

"You know what? I'll just go soak my feet into the water for a while," he says.

You nod and head for the ice cream cart.

You turn your head once more and see him already get into the water, knee-deep.

He pulls his shorts up trying not to wet them.

"Don't go in too deep," you yell, over the sound of the wind. " It's not safe."

You are quite aware of the bodyguards standing at a respectable distance, but you can't stop worrying.

He gives you an okay sign and turns his face away from you.

You get a kiwi ice cream for yourself and a vanilla one for Jimin.

You turn back, eager to hand it to him before it melts, and look out into the sea.

But Jimin is nowhere to be seen.

You frantically move your eyes all over the place, trying to catch sight of him.

Nothing.

You start to panic, your breaths coming out in short fragments.

A million thoughts are rushing into your head.

Where is he where is he where is he –

You check the shore again, the ice cream cart, the street.

What if he drowned?

The camera and the ice cream cups drop from your hands and onto the ground.

Where the hell is Jimin?

#bts #bangtan #jungkook #kookie #jk #jungkoookie #kook #bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #jungkook fanfic #bts fluff #jungkook fluff #ot7

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goldishlock · 5 years

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Emerald Seas Chapter 1 (Pirates of the Caribbean Fanfiction)

I wrote this fanfiction a long time ago and decided to put it on Tumblr ^^ I apologize in advance for any mistakes in my English, for it is not my native language. Also first fanfic so please be gentle and any tips are very much welcome! :D

Summary:

What is the real truth about Cutler Beckett's hate for Jack Sparrow, and what is the mark Jack left on Cutler? What if Jack was the one who killed Cutler's one and true love. Which changed him completely and made him the man we know today.

- A Pirates of the Caribbean Prequel

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There was a time when young Cutler Beckett wanted nothing more than to see the world and travel the seas. Here he was sitting in a large office in the rainy and cold London where his quill scribbled onto some documents. He noticed he wasn't paying any attention to what he was doing and woke from his day dreaming, releasing his hand from under his head. There was a big black stain of ink on his parchment. He left out a soft sigh and threw away the wasted piece of paper.

It was already getting quite dark outside and he noticed the clock showed him it was ten minutes past midnight. Once again his work day was far too long and he felt his eyes were heavy and his fingers started to feel numb from all the writing. But it was all worth it since he got assigned to a tour at one of the East India Trading Company's offices on one of the islands along the Spanish coast. This would be the journey of a lifetime and his first real business trip which made him feel proud of all the hard work he accomplished all those months working at the London EITC office.

The week passed slowly as it always does when something grand and exciting is waiting for you. But the day finally arrived and Cutler made his way to the docks of London. It was once again a rainy and cloudy day and the streets were busy, filled with people on their way to wherever they were going.

From a distance he saw the white sails and the blue flags of the EITC ships float and dance with the wind, the magnificent seacrafts being prepared for the journey. It was a cargo ship and carried spices. Once Cutler entered the docks he noticed the familiar smell of the spices in combination with the strong sea salt smell that made him feel at home so much.

As he walked up to the ship there was a harbor master scribbling on a piece of parchment. He walked up to him and tried to make him notice his presence. But the man made no effort in noticing and Cutler coughed once to make him look down on him. It worked as the man dropped his paper down, slightly annoyed and looked him into the eyes.

'What is it you're looking for, young man?' the harbor master looked down at Cutler, his eyes peeking over the edge of his half-moon formed glasses.

'Good day Sir, my name is Cutler Beckett, one of the office workers assigned to be part of the trip to Gibraltar' Cutler spoke brightly.

The man looked at him with a frowned face and pushed the small glasses he wore higher up his crooked nose.

'Aren't you a little young to sail with the Company young man?' the man spoke with an annoyed tone in his voice.

'I'm sure my name should be on the list, Sir'

Cutler waited in silence for a few moments as the man's finger slid down the pages, turned over a few and finally at the very bottom of the last page stopped.

'Ah, there it is. Now move along!' the man pushed Cutler in the direction of the gangplank that led him to enter the ship without paying any attention to him once he climbed aboard. Cutler didn't feel the need to thank the man and noticed how he moved along to the next person awaiting his entrance. He heard the harbor master's voice turn from the cranky old man into a flatterer helping the man which seemed to have a much higher rank than Cutler. But he didn't pay any attention to it any further and was already forgetting about it when he beheld the most beautiful and astonishing ship he had ever set foot on. He was determined to have one at least as magnificent as this one, one day.

Days passed and Cutler felt at home on the ship, even though the work at the office was far from what it was here on the high seas. He mostly got the duty of scrubbing the deck and repair broken parts when needed. Every now and then one of the younger men he worked with at the office in London made haste to one of the bucket's on board or to the rail of the ship to release the already poor meals they got served three times a day. They were no men for the sea or just had never sailed in their young lives. Cutler didn't suffer from the restless stomach the young men were complaining about all the time. No, he had real sea legs and enjoyed his time on the ship apart from the hard manual labor. The burning sun, on the other hand, was what made it killing. But Cutler didn't dare and want to complain what so ever and was determined to complete this journey. There were a few occasions when one of the Luitenants would pass him a compliment on his knowledge of the ship in one of the conversations he had with the group of young men. He felt proud to receive it and it only made him more driven. Cutler was a smart man and in any conversation with him, that was noticeable. Also, he himself knew this very well and sometimes used it to his advantage.

One night the ocean felt rough and restless. There were thunderstorms high in the clouds like the ancient gods were fighting, the waves were as tall as buildings, reaching for the sails that looked like they could be ripped off and fly away any moment. Sailors up deck were busy securing every rope and mast while making their way through the waves that crashed upon the deck with the loudest bang you could imagine water to sound like. Cutler was inside assisting the sailors, along with the other young men, anywhere they could. The ship made unexpected movements and tossed a lad every once in a while to the other side of the corridor on the upper deck. Cutler held himself steady against the sudden movements of the waves and heard the captain of the ship shout to the sailors and lieutenants on deck.

Cutler heard something that made him think his ears were betraying him. Did the Captain say anything about another ship in sight? He decided to make way to the deck. Not thinking about whether this was against the orders of the Captain he figured the men were too busy with the situation anyway. Cutler opened the door to the main deck and made way towards the group of lieutenants and the Captain who were in a heated discussion. Cutler winded his ear as if he could follow the conversation with all the noise the thunder and the heavy rain caused. He heard the Captain now scream to get above all the sounds of nature, Cutler stiffened and stopped walking nearly reaching the helm of the ship. He didn't move an inch and tried to comprehend what he heard him scream.

‘Did he say pirates?' Cutler mumbled to himself.

As he tried to reach for the balustrade of the deck, trying to make himself stand straight again, he looked to the side of the ship where the other ship was noticeable through the thick fog. He searched for the flag to see what kind of ship it was, as his eyes managed to find it he froze again. The Captain was right, there it was, a big black flag with a skeleton, holes in it everywhere. This was the first time Cutler ever laid eyes on a pirate ship and he couldn't believe this was happening.

All of a sudden out of nowhere he heard the loudest bang he had ever heard. The wood of the ship was cracking and getting destroyed by an object so heavy. He heard the center mast of the ship crack and soon more cannon balls followed. Cutler had to dive down onto the deck and placed his hands on the back of his head, covering it so the pieces of wood wouldn't fall on top of it. He soon stood up from the ground to make his way to the Captain to see if there was anything he could do, but it all went so fast. He looked at the place where the Captain and lieutenants were discussing a few moments ago and they were gone. He saw some men bleeding and crawling on the ground. He tried to help out but for most of them, it was too late.

Then after what seemed forever the cannon balls of both ships stopped. Cutler had managed to shelter himself along with some men still alive. A few minutes ago the sailors below deck did everything they could to shoot this damn pirate ship to the bottom of the ocean, but now it was quiet. Even the sea had stopped raging and the silence made his ears creak. There was a high tone beep in his ears that would be there at least some days. But that was least of his worries.

The few men left alive were gathering around and out of nowhere, there was a loud bang. From what they could see there was a big shadow crossing from the pirate ship to theirs and all men waited in silence, knowing they were outnumbered by this sudden surprise attack. It wasn't clear anymore who was from which rank since they all looked filthy and bloody from the battle. Hats, wigs were lost and coats were destroyed.

The big shadow formed into a man wearing a large hat with a dark purple feather that made him look even taller. Behind him what must have been the rest of his crew followed. Looking curiously to the men being surrounded, without sharing any words.

'Ah what a beautiful day for another trading ship to cross paths with..' the man with the big hat spoke, breaking the long silence.

The Captain of the EITC ship stepped forward, limping a bit, and looked the tall man into the eyes.

'Who are you? Make yourself known!' he burst out.

'Oh, how rude of me. My name is Captain Christophe-Julien de Rapièr. And you are my prisoners now..' without awaiting any response the pirate Captain waved his hand and one of his men grabbed the Captain of the Company and slit his throat. Some of the Company men stepped forward to try and stop him, but the other pirates lifted their weapons.

'For anyone of you making any move will await the same faith. You'll rot at Davy Jones' Locker!' the pirate Captain yelled, which made all the men keep their tongue.

After what felt like an eternity some of the pirates returned on deck from inspecting the whole ship. They made their way with everything valuable and expensive on the ship.

Cutler stood there in silence and couldn't believe what was happening. He wanted to do something so badly but knew that would cost his head.

'Now, I only want the youngsters. They make the best slaves' the Captain spoke while inspecting the crew of the Company's ship. The pirate crew did what was commanded and killed every lieutenant and older sailors still left. Cutler tried to reach for a sword from one of the lieutenants but was busted and caught by his arm.

Before they knew it they were standing on the large dark pirate ship that stank like rotten food and long out of date rum. Nothing like the fine smell of spices aboard the East India Company ships.

'What are you going to do with us?' one of the young men spoke bravely but looked frightened for his life.

'You're part of the goods that will make us rich' one of the pirates laughed, he looked at the lad and twitched his left eye to scare him.

'You are planning to sell us as slaves?' Cutler stepped toward the Captain who turned and looked down at him as he was quite taller.

'Smart boy' was all the Captain answered.

'We will be found and you will be convicted' Cutler spoke calmly, staring into the Captain's cold eyes.

'Shut it! And if anyone of you is as bold to cross me.. or if you cross me again like that. There will be consequences!' the pirate Captain yelled. He waved one of his orders again and the pirates took them to the brig.

The young men guided by three pirates got below deck where it was dark and wet. Cutler tried to look around in the dark to study the way out of here, just in case they would escape. He looked down at his black boots that were soaking wet from the floor and they made their way through the few inches of water here below. There were two large cells which could contain at least six men each. The four men including Cutler were put in separated cells, two of the men in one and two in the other. He had no idea why but he figgered that the pirates guiding them weren't smart enough to have good a reason for it.

To Cutler's surprise, he noticed voices whispering when he walked into his cell and in the back he saw a group of three people. Cloaked and hooded so he couldn't see their faces, sitting on the ground, all looking over their shoulder, curious to whom the new prisoners would be.

'Enjoy your stay!' one of the pirates yelled and closed the door shut behind the men with a loud noise.

There was an awful long silence. Cutler and George, one of the four young men locked in the same brig, watched their cell mates still staring. They decided to await the three people making their approach, they couldn't tell if it might be other bloody pirates or not. They didn't want any more trouble.

'Are you from the East India Trading Company?' one of the men in the group of three cloaked people rose from the ground.

'Yes we are.. who.. are you, and how did you know?' George asked questioning.

'I regonize your attire' the man spoke and he revealed his head from underneath his hood. Cutler forgot they still wore their uniforms. The man was wearing a white wig and naval uniform which made him trustworthy, he was obviously a man of rank. He looked about ten years older than Cutler and George.

'I'm Lieutenant Greyer. Maybe we can work together on getting the hell out of here, we can use some men force..' Lieutenant Greyer continued. Cutler and George nodded. The other two figures stood up as well after seeing they were from the same side and made their way to the men. One of them lowered their hood as well.

'We have to be cautious and need to make absolutely sure she doesn't get harmed, Luitenant Greyer. We can't just trust anyone' the man who just revealed his face spoke uncertain but strict.

Cutler thought his ears betrayed him again and the annoying beep in his ears didn't help with hearing properly either. But did he say her, her meaning the ship?

'We can only accept all the help we get offered Luitenant Brown.. we have no choice' Lieutenant Greyer whispered toward the other lieutenant, wearing the same uniform.

They were clearly of a high rank, the other man was probably the same age as Luitenant Greyer, men that made something of their lives, Cutler though.

'You're right.. we're in the same situation, where are my manners. I'm Lieutenant Brown' the other lieutenant spoke hesitating with a tone that almost sounded sarcastic like he still didn't trust the situation but went along with it. His dark eyes tried to show friendliness.

The other figure stood quietly among the men, a little more into the back of the cell, like it was scared of the newcomers. The lieutenants looked protective of the figure as it stepped forward to make itself known as the hood dropped down.

Underneath the hood of the cloak appeared a young woman. Her long red hair fell softly onto one side of her shoulder. Her piercing emerald eyes seemed frightend yet strong. She wore a cream-colored dress while her slender shoulders were protected by a silk dark green cloak. Her attire showed she had to be an English noble woman coming from a rich family.

Cutler didn't believe his eyes and was forgetting about everything around him. She must have been near her twenties. He noticed her beauty, one that was rarely seen, it was pure and captivating. Cutler couldn't deny the fact he felt attracted to her, but he soon realized probably most men would be by her mysterious and intriguing appearance.

A woman aboard this hideous and dangerous vessel, how did she end up here for she did not belong here.

'My name is Katherina Florence' her soft voice spoke, making her name known..

#cutlerbeckett #piratesofthecaribbean #fanfic #fanfiction #jacksparrow

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