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itneverendshere · 3 months

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can't remember anything before you - rafe cameron.

request: "can you write something for rafe, where he's had a crush on topper's older sister for ages and he finally does something about it? it can be fluffy and smutty, honestly I'm just here for the plot."

pairing: rafe cameron x thornton!reader; brother's best friend! trope or best friend's sister! trope lmao; fem!reader.

word count: wrote 11 word pages i apologize;

WARNINGS: p in v; fingering; handjob; smut with feelings; smut with plot; a lot of cursing; rafe being a lover boy; mentions of slow burn like the slowest burn of his life but it pays off; mentions of voyeurism; p in v out in public??; wrote the word moan a thousand times.

you drive him insane.

what the hell are you doing prancing around the house in the tiniest red bikini known to mankind?

rafe's not a creep, okay? earlier, he tried to redirect his attention, focus on anything else – the tv, the background music, even the patterns on the wallpaper – but his gaze involuntarily gravitated back to you. it's as if the universe conspires against him, pushing him to the edge of his self-control.

it's not just the stupid bikini; it's the way you carry yourself.

it's not fair.

it's why he secluded himself from the party an hour ago, slipping away unsuspectedly to the little private lounge you kept in your favorite area to sunbathe. he sank into a reclining chair, running his hands through his buzzed hair in frustration.

closing his eyes for the millionth time that evening, rafe tries to summon the strength to think about you in anything except the slutty number you're wearing— and it still doesn't help. in the distance, laughter from the party echoes, a stark reminder of the festivities he chose to distance himself from.

then, the hidden door creaks open, and without looking, he knows it's you.

it's your spot after all. maybe this was a terrible idea.

the subtle scent of your sunscreen wafts through the air, and the sound of footsteps approaches. rafe's heart quickens, torn between the desire to get the fuck away from you and your scent that urges him to stay. he keeps his eyes closed for a moment longer, clinging to the darkness as if it can shield him from you.

completely fucked. he's so fucked.

you settle into a nearby chair, and the silence between you is almost comforting. almost. because that sleazy bikini of yours is still very much imprinted into his brain. rafe finally musters the courage to open his eyes, only to meet yours the second he does.

it takes an unbelievable amount of willpower to fight the groan in his throat when he realizes your arms are crossed and doing absolutely nothing to hide your tits. the world seems to narrow down to the glistening droplets of water on your skin, the curve of your body. his gaze trails down and he almost folds on the spot.

oh, for fuck's sake.

the reclining chair suddenly feels like a throne of thorns. he should've gone home. ogling you is nothing new in his book, it's what he does best, but now that you've spent the entire summer together...having you all to himself after years of barely catching a glimpse of you during the holidays or summer breaks in the outer banks, rafe knows that it's not just a stupid crush on his best friend's older sister.

it's not just a fleeting desire, it's something that has been brewing inside him for years, and the eye of its right here.

"you, okay?"

rafe almost jumps out of his skin, as your voice breaks the silence. he hesitates, finding it difficult to find the right words when you're looking at him with your pretty eyes.

he clears his throat, attempting to regain his composure, "yeah, yeah. i'm...i'm good." rafe replies, his voice rougher than he intends.

your pouty lip’s part, perhaps ready to probe further, but he can't let you mess with his head.

"just needed a breather from the party, y'know?" he adds, hoping the casual tone will deflect you from analyzing him like one of your books. you're the only one who always saw through the layers he wrapped around himself.

too fucking smart for you own good.

you tilt your head slightly, exposing your pretty neck, "were my cocktails that bad?"

there's an underlying teasing undertone, and he can't help but let out a small, rueful chuckle, "nah, don't think they could be bad even if you tried, peach." he replies, a sheepish grin playing on his lips.

your heart races at the sight of him. he’s gorgeous. no one should be allowed to look this good, especially with a shaved head and a three-day stubble. you'd like to blame the drinks for luring your nasty thoughts out, but you know this, is entirely on you.

weird, right?

this was rafe cameron. the little rafe cameron who grew up down the street from you, the insufferable kid your brother brought along to every single-family vacation and had the biggest crush on you when you were seventeen. the metamorphosis from the boy to the captivating man seated before you makes you head hurt.

he's a man now, the prettiest you've ever seen, and it only took him one summer to have you under his palm.

his phone looks so small in his large hands, your gaze follows the veins lining the back of them as his fingers nimbly play with the screen.

"am i boring you?" you ask, leaning your head back into the chair, his perfume, replica jazz club you assume, wafts over you and it takes everything in you not to drop your face into his buff chest and just inhale him, "you haven't spoken a word to me all day."

there's a slight buzz from the alcohol in your veins that allows you to ask the questions you'd never ask if you were sober.

rafe runs his hand across his jaw, analyzing you slowly. "'course i have."

you scoff, feigning nonchalance. "no, you haven't. it's like you're avoiding me."

rafe's heart skips a beat. "avoiding you? m'not avoiding you."

you raise a perfect eyebrow, challenging him, "really?"

rafe shifts uncomfortably in the chair, his gaze flickering between your eyes and the tempting curves that the tiny red bikini accentuates.

"is it because raven is here?"

his eyes are busy tracing the lines of your features with an unwavering dedication. he's never been the best at multitasking when in your presence. he sees your lips moving but can't wrap his head around what you asked.

when he catches your eye again, there's a subtle blush gracing your cheeks, but you don't look away, "who?"

"raven. your ex? the girl you were fucking on spring break?"

rafe's eyes widen comically, surprise and discomfort settling on his face. he shifts in his chair again, as you've catch him off guard. how the fuck did he forget you knew about raven?

"oh, uh, raven. yeah—i mean no! no, no, it's not about her. we're not a thing anymore," he stammers out, fingers scratching his stubble, "that was a spring break thing."

you sit up straighter, the tequila and curiosity-fueling your boldness, "a spring break thing, huh?"

you pray to god he can't pinpoint the jealousy coating your words.

his jaw slightly slackens, forming an unintentional expression of awe as you move your legs, once again momentarily losing the ability to form coherent thoughts. beads of sweat form on his forehead as he struggles to maintain composure.

the heat is not helping his situation at all.

when the silence becomes a little too overbearing for you, you can't shake the growing unease that you might be unintentionally bothering rafe's peace. your words flowed, but you notice a subtle glaze over his blue eyes, a distant look that hints at his mind wandering elsewhere.

is he thinking about raven?

you adjust your posture, nervously fiddling with the bracelet on your arm, a subtle sign of your growing discomfort, "do you want me to leave?"

rafe's eyes snap back to you, the fleeting moment of distraction replaced by a sudden intensity. he blinks a few times, as if trying to shake off the mental fog that had settled, "'course not," there's a hint of urgency in his voice. he doesn't want you to leave, and that realization tightens the knots in his stomach, "always want your company."

this is unbearable. you've gotten him on a tight leash, and you don't even know.

his tone makes your lips twitch, and you press them together to keep from smiling, "aww, look at you being nice to me, it's like you're sixteen all over again."

an involuntary groan escapes his throat, the sound automatically making you clench your thighs.

"you remember that?"

"course i do, you're the only guy who's ever gifted me flowers."

that's because you've only dated douchebags, it's what he wants to tell you, but he doesn't because it's none of his business.

"how much have you had to drink?"

you smirk, "a little. how much have you had to drink?"

he trails his eyes up you higher, gliding up your tummy, over your tits, right up to your throat, "a little."

a subtle awareness tingles at the back of your senses and that's when it hits you.

rafe is staring at you.

he's not shy about it; his eyes trail over you, leaving a tangible heat in their wake, practically eating you alive and you have to take another look to confirm you're not being a delusional bitch. so maybe... you did wear this bikini hoping he would finally do something, that he'd finally understand that you want him.

you've spent the entire summer teasing him. seeing if you could get a rise, hit the right button.

you quirk a brow at him, amusement curling at the corners of your lips, "bikini's nice, isn't it?"

he clears his throat, a subtle rasp betraying the restraint he's trying to maintain.

"yeah, it's...it's something," he replies, the words slightly breathless. he crosses his arms across his chest, biceps big enough to make you want to climb him like a tree.

you lean forward propping yourself on one of your elbows, making sure he gets a fantastic view of your cleavage, "you know, rafe, you've been pretty quiet."

his lips, naturally inviting, become the focal point as he bites down on the lower one, "just...taking in the view, i guess." he mumbles, his gaze momentarily darting away before locking onto you again.

rafe feels like he's fourteen again, unable to hold a conversation with a pretty girl like you. except he's twenty-two and he should know better. you're going to give him a stroke.

"the view, huh?” your eyes widen in mock-surprise, “and do you like what you see?" you ask.

he swallows hard. uh-oh, is he really about to do this?

"you know i do." he admits, the admission laced with a raw honesty that takes you by surprise.

got him right where you want him.

you decide to push the boundaries a bit further, your voice dropping to a sultry tone, fingers playfully tracing the edge of the bikini strap.

"wasn't sure about the red, but it's your favorite color."

his head whips back around and he swears he hears a crack. if he wasn't fully hard before, he is now.

you both know you meant what you said, not just a heat-of-the-moment confession. his gaze is fixed on you and his eyebrows are pushed together in a painful expression and he just keeps shaking his head.

he opens his mouth, takes a slow, shuddering breath that you feel through every inch of your body and leans forward, hands gripping the arms of the chair for dear life, "peach."

there's an underlying warning in his voice, begging you to take a step back and rethink this entire thing, but quite frankly, you're tired of thinking. as matter of fact, you're done making excuses not to fuck rafe.

he exhales a shaky breath, "you're playing with fire, y'know that?" his voice is low, it only spurs the warning and longing lingering inside you.

you're both breathless and you haven't even touched each other.

it's time you deliver the final nail to the coffin.

"you're gonna do something about it or do i have to find someone else?"

the realization eventually sinks in: you want him. you want him as desperately as he wants you. you've pushed him to the edge, and there's no turning back now.

his hands are on you before you can blink again, roaming fingers locking around your wrist to pull you towards him, knocking his phone to the ground in the process, but he doesn't care, everything's background noise when you stumble into his lap, pretty legs dangling to the sides. his hands wrap around your torso, pulling you closer, chest to chest, fingers digging into your hips like he's trying to convince himself you're not an illusion.

the world narrows down to the heat of his touch, the electrifying sensation of his fingers on your skin. you feel the rapid beat of his heart against your chest, mirroring your own anticipation.

rafe's eyes, lock onto yours, a silent agreement passing between you.

"y'sure about this?" he whispers, voice a low growl, but the vulnerability in his eyes makes you want to kiss him stupid.

his hands, which had been restless before, find a purpose as his fingertips brush the skin of your face lightly, caressing your chin between his thumb and forefinger before his eyes sweep up to meet your own.

"please." the words come out like a plea.

“please, what?" he asks, so smug you almost punch him, "gotta tell me what you want, hm?"

“kiss me.”

and then his lips are on yours. it's more than just kissing; it's a fusion of desires, an electric current that drags you under. rafe's touch is confident, yet tender, as if he is unraveling a secret, delicate treasure. your senses heighten, catching the subtle nuances of his warm breath mingling with yours.

rafe's kiss is a slow burn, a deliberate exploration that leaves trails of heat in its wake. there's an artistry to the way he traces the contours of your lips, teasing and coaxing, building a crescendo of anticipation, rendering you breathless.

the lounge chair becomes a battleground of hands and lips, a frenzied exchange of desires unleashed, an intensity that borders on desperate, as if trying to capture and savor every moment. your fingers trace along his arms, and his hands explore every inch of your body, as if mapping out the territory he's yearned for.

his lips leave a trail of fire along your jawline, down to your collarbone, and you suppress a cry, the sensation sending shivers down your spine. the summer nighttime air feels heavy, thick with the scent of sunscreen and the heady aroma of desire.

rafe breaks the kiss for a moment, his breath hot against your skin.

you’re both panting, breathing so hard that your heaving chests touch with every breath.

"been driving me insane all summer, y'know that?" he admits, a husky edge to his voice, throat bobbing, "so fucking insane." he whispers into your neck.

he can't even think straight with your ass firmly pressed against him.

you attempt to keep an even voice, but nonchalance escapes you for the time being. "that was the plan all along."

rafe chuckles, a low, throaty sound that resonates through you, feeling the warmth of his breath against your ear, "god, gonna be the death of me."

there’s no time to reply because he leans his head and catches your lips faster this time.

he tilts your head down, applying a little bit of pressure to your mouth. your lips part again, and so do his. he swallows your moan into his mouth, and eases his tongue into you, urgently exploring every crevice of your mouth, hand slipping from your cheek and resting at the column of your neck, fingers kneading the back of it.

you press your body further into his and you can feel every inch of him vibrating, his entire body pulsing with need. his skin feels so hot against yours, he’s unbearably hard and you’re positively dying to get your hands on every single inch of his skin.

your nails scrape against his scalp and you squeak in shock as rafe’s hips surge upwards, forcing his hard cock against you. the unabashed moan he lets slip is sinful and it’s all you want to hear for the rest of your life. you can’t stop the urge building up inside you, you’re not even certain you can stop moving your hips even if you wanted to.

his hands dig into the plush of your thighs and he restrains himself, you deserve better than to get fucked out here. he watches closely, hypnotized by the way you begin rubbing yourself onto him, the outline of his cock grazing back and forth between your covered folds.

“baby, we can—can’t, jesu—not here.”

the new pet name makes you feral for him.

you trace a finger up the column of his throat, sending a shiver down his spine, you don’t stop moving your hips, watching his eyes flutter every time you rub just the right way.

“why not?”

rafe groans, head falling back to the chair, “here?”

it’s almost funny how he’s willing to bend over every decision he’s ever made in his life, just for you. he’s letting you dry hump him right here, when your brother, his best friend and god knows who can walk in at any given moment.

you nod pathetically, brain turned into mush, “can’t wait any longer.”

“stop saying shit like that.” he warns you through gritted teeth, “fuck.”

the needy sound that rips through your chest when his hands leave your thighs echoes in his mind.

“peach”, he begins, roaming hand brushing up the back of your thigh and squeezing the flesh just below the swell of your rear, “y’have a problem with control."

both your lips are swollen pink and ridden with spit.

“like you’re any better.”

you’re such a brat.

rafe grabs your chin and tilts your head, so you have to look into his pretty eyes, “let’s not make any noise, yeah?” his lips create a path up your throat, hands on your ass, kneading and pushing so he can grind you all over his growing bulge.

you whimper, rocking harder on him and wrapping your arms around his neck. you just want him to touch you. his hips roll slowly, rubbing his hard-on lazily and mindlessly. he can't help but send a rough smack on your ass, smirking at your surprised yelp.

“just touch me,” you grip his shoulder harder, holding on for dear life as his hands trail back, the bits of his nails scraping along your naked thighs.

they catch the waistband of your bikini bottoms. he traces your clit over the fabric feeling the warm, wet patch you’re leaving in them and then he teasingly slips his fingers underneath, swiping them along your slit, thumb, and index finger opening your pussy to his gaze.

this time he swallows hard, seeing your pussy pink and glistening for him.

“’m touching you, peach,” his touch, and scent, cloud your vision, the soft sounds of his labored breath singing in your ears as he leans down to press wet-mouthed kisses to your neck, “m touching you.”

”more,” you whine, lips barely parted, drawing out another salacious moan from him. “fuck.”

“like this?” he whispers against your lips, words hoarse and murmured, watching your eyes soften and brows twist, features becoming pliant under his enamored gaze, “you’re so fucking wet.” he tsk under his breath, shaking his head in the typical rafe cameron condescending way.

he presses a finger inside of you, slowly stretching out your tight hole. you groan, and his eyes roll back at the way your walls stretch around him. so fucking tight. you rock harder against him, fucking yourself into his finger and wrapping your arms around his neck again. you just want to feel him against you.

his half-lidded eyes look up at you as you contort on top of him, feeling overstimulated, with a single finger.

he coos, his other hand sweeping over the back of your head sweetly, pushing back stray sweaty hairs. he nudges your nose with his, hand on the back of your neck, and tries to meet your eye. the squelch as his finger fucks into you, fast and deep, is the most beautiful thing he’s ever heard.

“rafe—“ you hand grips his wrist as your eyes roll back when his fingers find that spot.

“t’s good?”

“so good,” you whine loudly, he’s cocky tone only adding to his allure.

you can feel the stretch it takes just to take his finger, rutting into you, curling perfectly.

he thinks it might be the sweetest thing he’s ever witnessed – your voice when you’re being fucked. you’re gushing around his digits, hands now clutching his shoulders. it’s like you can’t stop moving them, needing to feel every ridge of his body.

rafe adds another finger, pressing the tips of his middle and ring finger against that soft, spongy part deep inside and grins when you cry out his name.

“fuck,” you cry out against his skin dragging your lips up his throat, over his jaw, before finding purchase at his lips in a kiss that devours all air in your lungs. your fingers curl around the band of his bathing shorts, enjoying the slight whine that slips past his lips.

“let me touch you,” you plead, words muffled by the way your tongue can’t seem to leave his skin alone, teeth grazing along where his neck and shoulder meet. you nip at the area, before daring to swipe your tongue along his neck, sucking the tender flesh with your teeth.

holy fuck, are you marking him?

“oh god."

a third finger, your hips now rutting against him.

“hickeys, baby? that territorial, huh?” his hand slows for a moment, twisting so he can thumb at your clit before he continues, both motions in tandem. you cry out, eyes screwed close, hips shoving forward, “you look so pretty like this," rafe whispers against your skin, his full-blown pupils looking up at you through his long lashes.

“i want more”

“every little sound you make goes straight down to my cock,” he’s rubbing his cock so perfectly against your clit again, only making you whine more desperately for him. he places a chaste kiss on the corner of your mouth, just so he can see you blindly chase after his lips.

and then, you feel empty.

he lets his fingers slide all the way out and his throat tightens at the feel of you bearing down, trying to hold on to him as he withdraws completely. he ignores your protests and drags his thick fingers across your wet folds. when he feels satisfied with the coat around his fingers, he moves them toward your face, letting them trail over your lips.

“gon’ open up f’me?”

you gasp, but obey immediately, tongue darting out to lick your slick off his fingers. rafe doesn’t hold back his groan, watching your tongue swirling around his digits. he throws whatever concerns he had over your noises out the window.

he’s too lost in your body to care if someone finds you two or not.

as a matter of fact, let them see. god knows he’s dying to show those bastards you belong to him anyway. he wants you all to himself, wants the whole world to know you’re his.

“so, so, so good,” he praises, closing the gap, lips molding right into yours again. his hands find home in your throat, adding just right the amount of pressure to make you sigh against his lips.

rafe smirks, brushing a finger along your skin, should’ve guessed his pretty peach had kink for praises. your tummy is in a knot because he’s running his hands along your body, and you just need to have him.

you clumsily slip his shorts and boxers down, just enough to touch him, and he raises his hips automatically helping you slide them down, his cock springing out of his confines to lightly hit against his abdomen.

you break the kiss, needing to look at him.

and you’re so glad you do, because rafe has the most perfect dick you’ve ever seen. you catch yourself staring at him, devouring every part of his body with your eyes.

he feels his heartbeat faster, face flush when your eyes are back on his face as you softly wrap one of you manicured hands around him, just slightly, slow pumps. but it’s more than enough to make him drop his head back, adam’s apple bobbing, brows pitched together.

“good?” you ask him, keeping the pace so you can feel him throb in your hand.

“everything’s good when it’s you peach,” he grunts out, and the way his abs seem to recoil makes your tongue slide across your bottom lip, “fucking perfect.”

your thumb smears precum across his tip, bending forward to ghost your lips over his, “need you inside me.”

the way rafe’s jaw drops open in a silent moan when you tighten your hold around him is beautiful, searing itself in the back of your mind.

settling on his lower lip, you draw it into your mouth, sucking softly, moving your hips even closer. he runs his hands along your sides, one stopping just below your breasts—the other one flicking your nipple with his thumb.

you keep your eyes open, needing to memorize every single moment. his breath comes down on your lips in heavy pants, fingers teasing your skin, hums of pleasure circling both of you.

“want me inside you?” his voice sounds so husky it makes you want to cry, “want me to fil you up?”

your hand leaves his cock, pulling him to you by his shoulders, and he braces himself with one hand on your waist, another on the chair.

he runs his tongue along the inside of his cheek, “that bad?”

“don’t tease me,” you struggle to produce words, hands winding through his chest, “waited long enough.”

rafe holds his cock by the base, running it up and down your pussy, “not longer than i have.”

you sink down onto him, biting your lip at the slow pressure, the pleasant stretch that pulls at your middle. you can feel tears brimming your eyes from pure relief and he feels like every single fiber of his being is scorching.

he can feel just how deep he his, his fingers clutching at the flesh of your hips like his life depends on it, “fuck. that’s it, baby.”

your hands are placed firmly on his stomach, and one of his glides up right up to your throat, pulling you down to his chest. all you can properly let out of your mouth are pleas and whimpers. the stretch is on the edge of painful, but he fits so perfectly inside of you. you huff a short breath when he’s all the way in.

“you okay?” he asks against your ear, softly biting the lobe.

your answer is a desperate roll of your hips, “perfect.”

you begin to move your hips up and down, as the stretch gives way to something delirious, and rafe takes mercy on you, beginning to thrust back up into you, his rhythm building up until your mouth falls open again into a pretty moan, until sweat shines on the high points of his perfectly sculpted face. every time your skin touches his it’s fucking scorching, and the stretch is agonizing, and the heavy air is suffocating but then he’s bottoming out and you feel your brain go fuzzy.

you’re wrapped around him so tight it makes his moves sloppy, almost mindless but so deep it knocks the air out of your lungs.

“waited so long for you,” one hand on the curve of your hip, the other along your jaw, lips hungrily working over yours, swallowing your gentle whimpers, your soft, sweet pleas vibrating against his tongue, “have no idea what you do to me.”

his confession only makes you drag yourself harder against him, clit brushing against his pubic bone, “rafe!”

“that’s it,” he coos, tone gentle, the friction too overwhelming, “so beautiful.”

the strain in his voice makes you want to stay like this forever.

you tighten around him further, letting your nails rake down his chest. rafe grunts, thrusting harder, shifting you closer to him as humanly possible. you feel his stomach and thighs clench, and his hips sputter, “you’re so deep.”

he presses his hand against your stomach, feeling the bulge, “might fuck a baby into you,” he rasps, thumb catching against your clit, “let them know you’re mine.”

“yours,” he’s trailing kisses along your collarbone until he reaches your tits, leaving a line of soft, wet suckles behind, “only yours.”

the way he’s stroking you unrushed is absolutely toe-curling, guiding you over his cock with very little maneuvering, gently pushing your hips down onto him.

“gonna keep you here, stuffed, for hours baby.”

you can hear it reverberating through the night air.

the slap of skin, the grunts. the sound of the chair creaking as he fucks you into it. each delicious slip, every time you feel his veiny shaft twitching for attention against your walls. you’re so lightheaded you might pass out.

rafe feels his balls tighten. you are creaming so fast, squeezing the hell out of his cock. he’s making sure to put your pleasure before his, hitting all the right spots.

“rafe, baby—" his name being moaned out by you is urging him to bust inside you, his eyes narrowing slightly as his grip on your hips tightens, “oh—im gon—fuckk.”

he only pushes you faster up and down his dick as your walls grip around him, a mix of your cream and his pre-cum coating his length. his eyes focus on your face, basking in the pretty expressions you make.

“it’s too much.” you whine, feeling your orgasm about to reach itself. rafe’s eyes glimmer at your words, tracing a thumb against your lips before sneaking a kiss onto your mouth.

“you can take it,” his muscles flex from the constant friction. you’re so full, all you can think about is rafe spilling inside of you, “c’mon.”

his cock thrusts even deeper, a sharp hiss leaving his lips at the way your pussy tightens. his calloused thumb wipes away a stray tear. he loves the sting of your nails practically sinking into his skin. he tangles his hand in your hair, forcing your neck to arch up as he leans in, biting hard enough to leave a mark.

“im—m—gonn—” you feel him right at your womb again and again, any semblance of sanity melted away the moment he set his hands on you, “holy fuck.”

“i know baby, keep your eyes on me,” you with your perfect tits bouncing with each roll and grind of your hips is enough to make a grown man cry, “eyes on me.”

you lean back, supporting yourself with your hands on his thighs, circling your hips and doing your best not to close your eyes. the burning inside you is so strong, it’s taking you everything not to close them.

his hands slide around your back when he sits up suddenly, and you gasp, “oh my god.”

the pace has both of you panting, his balls slapping your ass every single time. a shiver runs down your spine and you throw your head back and almost scream out his name.

he chuckles breathlessly, “never getting tired of that sound.”

you can feel yourself starting to reach the edge of your climax, grinding harder and harder into him and gasping with each spark of pleasure it gives your throbbing clit. each time he hits your g-spot just right, you feel more and more slick dribbling out of you and down your thighs.

“so fucking pretty,” he groans, punctuating each word with a deep thrust and you feel that tight coil in your belly snapping.

“fuck—rafe,” you pant heavily, breathy whines falling from your lips, legs starting to give out. “oh mhmf—don’t stop!”

your thighs are shaking and seizing as it finally its you, at full force. you squirm in his hold, feeling an almost overwhelming wave of pleasure wash over your body. the feeling’s so intense it’s almost painful. rafe’s arms hold you tight, keeping you grounded while you shudder in his grasp, his fingers determined to prolong your ecstasy.

his piercing blue eyes stay trained on yours the entire time, “knew you could do it.”

he doesn’t let up his pace, pressing chaste kisses to your lips to soothe you.

“wonder how many of those i can get out of you.”

long night ahead of you.

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might have some grammar mistakes, frankly im not sure at this point lmao, it's late. english's not my first language, it's my third i think. will edit later bc i spent hours writing this and my old ass needs to sleep, thank you for reading <3 by the time im posting this, over 200 of you voted they wanted smut so y'all won, tried best to deliver the goods. also rafe's not mentally unstable in this one, in case that wasn't obvious, he's just a little too in love and cute.

let me know if you enjoy it and if i should start taking requests more frequently!

ps: that picture is how i imagined rafe throughout this whole thing

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron smut #rafe smut #rafe cameron au #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron x you #rafe fic #rafe fanfiction #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron outer banks #rafe x reader #rafe x you #rafe x female!mc #rafe imagine #smut #rafe obx

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togenabi · 7 months

Text

things I won't tell you

vinsmoke sanji (opla) x princess!reader

♡—the new royal chef doesn't seem to recognize you without your crown. who's going to tell him? . . . certainly not you.

word count♡— 7.3k (cries)

genre♡— fluff, royal chef x princess au

content notes♡— opla sanji, afab!reader is a princess, reader wears dresses, reader has siblings (oc's), sanji made me google fancy food, mentions of zeff, sanji gets jealous if you squint, no use of y/n, proofread (but only a little)

also on♡— ao3

author's note♡— this is detached from any canon, its basically just a big chunk of sanji fluff. please enjoy!

You've never really dreamed for yourself. You had always just let life fall into place around you.

The kingdom is prospering, entering a new age of commerce. Artists, craftsmen, and inventors sail seas just to be part of it.

Your sister Chrysanth is a wise queen, as you always knew she would be. She’s fair and just, always knowing what’s best for her people.

On the other hand, your brother August is Captain of the Royal Guard. He’s an excellent swordsman, who has yet to be beaten ever since he took command.

As for you, the youngest of the three, you have no idea what you’re doing.

The most likely outcome would be for you to be married off to settle some political arrangement. Unpleasant as it sounds, you would have agreed to it for the sake of the kingdom.

But the moment you said so, Chrysanth gave you a look unbecoming of a queen and immediately shut it down.

“Look,” She gestured to the view outside. “Does that seem like a kingdom who needs help to you? I work my butt off precisely so that we won’t have to depend on anyone else.”

“Besides,” She adds, “if anyone wants your hand, they should fight to the death for it.”

And so, for now, you work for your sister. Helping manage general affairs and the kingdom’s business agreements—even though she could easily hire someone else.

“I love that you insist on working,” Your brother told you once. “You could have been a socialite, but you’re here with us, serving the people.”

Of course you are. Because even though you didn’t necessarily plan it, you are proud and committed to your work. You’re happy with your own, mundane accomplishments.

Or at least that’s what you try to remember when you glance at the tall pile of documents on your desk. You’ll relish the satisfaction that will come when it’s gone.

The candle beside you burns low, flame becoming dimmer and dimmer as the hour grows late. You should probably replace that. Pulling open your drawer, your eyes scan its contents for a candle.

You’re fresh out of the tall ones that fit in the candleholder, but you have one sculpted like a cinnamon bun—a gift from August a few birthdays ago. It’s not exactly the best for illuminating your work, but something makes you strike a match and light it still.

It smells like freshly baked cinnamon rolls, you can’t help but inhale the decadent scent deeply.

The aroma triggers an embarrassing grumble from your stomach. You feel your ears burn despite the fact that no one else is around to have heard it. Perhaps a midnight snack is in order.

Unexpectedly, light seeps through the gap beneath the large wooden double doors to the kitchen. In all your years, you’ve never encountered anyone in the kitchen at two in the morning.

Normally, you wouldn’t want to disturb them. Knowing the chefs, they would likely fuss over you and put whatever they were doing on hold.

But you fear that your stomach will disagree with that, so you decide to knock and enter the kitchen anyway.

There’s only one chef inside—a tall, blond man with his back to you. You don’t think you recognize him. He must be one of the new hires.

When he hears your footsteps on the stone tiles, he turns around.

His expression, at first, is curious. But after a beat, his mouth curves into a charming grin that catches you completely off guard.

“Hello there, miss.” He nods in greeting, eyes alight with a look that no one usually dares when it comes to you.

“I’d be happy to fix up something for you if there’s anything you’re… craving.”

When you expected the chef to fuss over you, this isn’t what you meant.

Your first instinct is to look at his surroundings for alcohol. Perhaps he’s intoxicated and not in his right mind?

But the (sober) chef seems to have mistaken your silence for bashfulness, because he presses you further, “Trust me. I may be new around here, but I know my stuff.”

Unsure how to respond to his blatant (or insolent, your sister would say) behavior, you try to gently decline his offer.

“It’s alright,” You say, still uncertain about him. “I was only going to make a sandwich and be on my way.”

“Nonsense!” He insists. “If you’re hungry at this hour, it means you’ve been busy working too hard.”

He approaches the pantry, retrieving one too many things for a mere sandwich. Your concern grows when he grabs garlic, several leafy vegetables, and a lemon.

“You, my dear,” He points at you with, is that a cucumber? “—deserve a proper treat.”

You sigh, it looks like he doesn’t intend to back down. Maybe you should just let him do what he wants and see if he can back up all the talk. Pulling one of the chairs from beneath the kitchen island, you take a seat as you observe the flirtatious chef.

At least he seems to be enjoying himself. His hands work with the kind of precision that only comes from years of experience; and he smiles proudly when he sees you watching.

“I meant what I said, I’m a damn good cook.” He’s begun chopping the vegetables. “My name’s Sanji, by the way.”

The question now is whether or not you properly introduce yourself. It's difficult to deny that you enjoy his attention. The casual and relaxed manner he addresses you with is… a nice kind of different. When else are you going to experience that if you let this go?

Alright. For tonight, you're not a princess. You're someone who stumbled upon a chef—a handsome one, it dawns on you. This is a chance encounter in the palace kitchens. And, you glance over at the dressing and ingredients he prepared, why should you turn down good food?

You decide to only give him your name. It feels strange introducing yourself without your title, but you don't tell him that.

“It makes sense that your name is as captivating as you are.” Sanji's voice is smooth, easygoing as he moves around the kitchen.

Nothing about his demeanor changes. Either he really doesn't know anything about this country's royalty, or he's skillfully controlled his reaction and is hiding that he knows.

There's also a third possibility: that you look so haggard and tired that you simply do not appear royal anymore.

Subconsciously, you look at your typical office clothes… Maybe you should go on that fitting the royal stylist has been pestering you about.

On the topic of style, however, your companion has unusual attire for a chef. He’s wearing a buttoned shirt with a necktie. His black slacks match the suit jacket draped over one of the chairs.

Your attention is diverted when Sanji begins rolling up his sleeves. He juices the lemon he had sliced in half, arms flexing as he twists the fruit.

Clearing your throat, you ask him a question to distract yourself. “What are you making?”

He smiles as if he’s glad you asked. “A dish that suits a beauty like you, of course.”

Several minutes later, he presents you with a sandwich. The slices of bread are whole wheat; the layers of ingredients between them are all in varying shades of green.

“A green goddess sandwich, made with care for the goddess in front of me.” Sanji pushes the plate towards you.

It's easy to stay composed despite the flattery because your hunger makes you focus on the food. “It really does look excellent.” You compliment earnestly.

He gestures to the plate before placing his hands in his pockets. “Tastes excellent too, try it.” Shaking your head at how confident he’s being, you pick up the sandwich.

It might just be the best sandwich you’ve ever had in your life. The flavors are fresh, and you catch the hints of lemon blending with the dressing. The bread is soft, contrasting with the crunch of the cucumbers and sprouts.

You're completely surprised, and it must be obvious based on how Sanji reacts. He lets out an adorable, pleased laugh that makes you want to hear it again.

“I knew you’d like it, ma chèrie.” Sanji reaches a hand towards your face. Your heart just about stops when he brushes his thumb to wipe at the corner of your mouth. His eyes look so intense, like you'll drown in them if you stare too much.

It feels as if your face could burst into flames at any second, so you turn away to hide your flush.

As Sanji grabs you a glass of water, you ask him if he’s eaten. “I did, but it’s nice that you’re worried about me.” He answers. You almost choke on your drink.

Once you've finished your meal, you stand then grab your empty plate and glass. But Sanji mirrors you, blocking the way to the sink. Why must a chef have such broad shoulders?

He shakes his head, trying to get the dishes from you. “Can’t let you do that, love.”

“Why not?” You frown, pulling your arms back so he doesn’t reach them.

“It’s late. You shouldn’t be working any more—”

“But you’re allowed to?” You look up at him defiantly.

Sanji stares at you. You stare back. There's a few seconds of silence before you sprint the other way, running around the kitchen island to get to a different sink.

“Oh, no you don’t!” Sanji yells after you.

You’re almost there, but Sanji catches up to you easily. Before you know it, he’s blocking the way again and you curse, remembering his long legs.

“Sanji, let me do the dishes.” You plead, but he’s as stubborn as it gets.

“The knives I used need to be washed anyway, and I’m not about to let your pretty hands do that.” Sanji winks, and you give up. He pries the dishes from your hands.

Seeing your shoulders slump disappointedly, he offers you a compromise. “If you really want, you could throw the rubbish in the bin and wipe down the counters.” Okay, you can do that.

“Are you sure this is the only way I can repay you?” You ask, grabbing a washcloth to begin cleaning up.

“That’s plenty of help, my dear.” Sanji answers.

But after a moment, he seems to have gotten an idea. Your brows raise in curiosity as you question him, “What?”

“...I was just wondering,” He begins, looking at you with that flirtatious glint in his eye. “Since we had such a wonderful time tonight, would you be willing to join me again?”

“That depends,” You press your lips together to suppress the smile blooming on your lips. “Will you cook for me again?”

Sanji laughs, throwing his head back. “Darling, that’s a given.”

He gazes at you while he dries his hands. There’s a grin on his face as he asks, like he already knows your answer. He probably does. He’s probably right.

“Same time tomorrow?”

Even though you got back to your chambers at an ungodly hour in the morning, you woke up feeling the most refreshed you’ve ever been. There’s a spring in your step as you get ready for the day, and you pick clothes that are slightly more dressy than your usual attire. Sanji shouldn’t be able to notice that you dressed up for him, right?

But your sister does.

Seated at the head of the table, Chrysanth stops eating to analyze your clothes the instant you show up to the dining hall for breakfast.

You could practically hear the gears in her head turning. Avoiding her gaze, you bow to greet her before taking your seat, “Good morning.”

The queen only smiles at you knowingly, eyes still flickering over you with enraptured excitement. Very much unlike a queen, however, she kicks your shin underneath the table.

“Ow!” You yelp.

“So…” She lets the syllable drag on. “Who’s the guy?”

You focus on piling food onto your plate, choosing to ignore her. “What guy?”

“Your guy.” She says, giddy. “Is he your guy yet?”

“Hm?” Is your only response. Breakfast looks lovely. Should you ask for coffee or tea today?

Chrysanth kicks you again.

“Hey!” You rub the skin to dull the pain. “Stop that!”

“Stop avoiding the question!” She persists, waving a hand to gesture at your clothes. “You only wear that skirt when you want to impress someone.”

Mentally cursing her for knowing you too well, you continue to act nonchalant.

“Really, it’s nothing.” You try to clarify. “I just thought that it would be a nice change.”

She doesn't believe it. Not one bit of it. Thankfully though, she drops the topic. Your shoulders relax as the discussion switches to work-related ones. She’s telling you about her plans to approve a restaurant in the museum when your brother joins you for breakfast.

Once he’s seated, August takes one look at you before tilting his head. “Who’s the guy?”

Chrysanth looks far too smug and triumphant than you’d like. You bury your face in your hands. Would Sanji also tease you if he knew?

The rest of the day is uneventful, the only change to your typical work day being that you avoid your siblings like the plague. You have lunch brought to your office and skip on dinner.

Sanji had already started cooking by the time you got to the kitchen. “I hope you don’t mind,” He says. Of course you don’t, whatever it is smells amazing. “I thought I’d start early so you wouldn’t have to wait too long.”

“Thank you for going through the trouble.” You say, glancing at the ingredients he had laid out: there are crushed tomatoes on the counter. Pasta simmers in a pot on the stove. You recognize the tubed shapes with ridges surrounding them.

“Rigatoni?” You ask, turning to the chef.

Sanji nods, “With a simple, creamy tomato sauce. Nothing too extravagant, but still specially made for you.”

He puts the pasta into two bowls, grating parmesan cheese on top. Your mouth waters.

“Here you are, darling.” It pleases you more than you thought it would when Sanji sits across from you to eat as well.

There’s something homey and yet luscious about the taste. He really outdid himself. “It’s delicious, Sanji.”

“I live to please.” Sanji says before standing to retrieve two wine glasses and a bottle of red. “Zweigelt.” He says as he pours for you both. “Juicy and fresh, with just the right amount of acidity.”

You almost swoon at the rasp in his voice. You never realized someone could be so attractive when talking about wine.

As he clinks his glass with yours, you think to yourself that this might be your favorite dish from him. However, true to his word, he surpasses your expectations every time.

After a few weeks, on your sixth (or is it seventh?) time meeting Sanji past midnight, you've reached the point where you're able to open up to each other beyond the pleasantries that come with the food.

He tells you about his dream of traveling the seas in search for the best ingredients the world has to offer. You admit how you sometimes feel like life is just taking you along with the current—that you’ve never had a burning, passionate dream to aspire to.

“I don’t think that’s a bad thing,” Sanji hums contemplatively. “There aren’t any deadlines when it comes to finding dreams.”

“I do worry that you’re working yourself to the bone, though.” He adds, and for once, his smile looks different somehow. It’s a fond, gentle smile that’s sweeter than the macarons he made for you.

“What do you mean?” You take a sip of water.

“While I'm flattered you enjoy my food so well, do you eat properly? Shouldn't the palace be treating you better?” This time, you actually choke on your drink.

Could it get more embarrassing than this? Your ears burn as you cough, trying to clear your throat and settle your heart.

“Breathe, love." Sanji, ever the gentleman, is next to you in a flash of a second. He pats your back gently and supportively. “I'm sorry if I startled you.”

“It's alright—and, I do eat,” Your voice comes out raspy. “It's just that I don't usually have an appetite for dinner.”

“But that leaves you hungry for a midnight snack?” Sanji asks, a knowing expression on his face as he refills your glass.

“Exactly.” You smile. Thankfully, your throat has calmed down. Picking up a vanilla-flavored macaron, you savor the taste that melts sweetly on your tongue. Returning to his chair across from you, Sanji watches you eat happily.

“I take pride in my desserts, but that chocolatier in Belltower street… The sweets are just—out of this world, I tell you.” He looks so excited as he talks, eyes aglow and gestures animated. “The chocolates are handmade and everything. I'm sure you've heard of it?”

“Um…” Hesitating, you certainly remember issuing a business permit for a chocolatier; but you can’t say you’ve gone there yourself.

Sanji’s eyes widen in disbelief. “Surely you’re pulling my leg. You haven’t been?”

“...”

He observes you quietly, like he's considering what to do next. There have been instances when Sanji stays quiet, doesn't eat, and only watches you chew. The times where he insists that he's content with seeing you eating well. Those were awkward at first, but you learned that was just part of spending time with him. Your reaction was a reward on its own.

But this isn't like that. Something feels oddly different in the way he seems to be gathering his composure. The silence almost worries you, but thankfully he breaks it first.

“You’ve saved me the trouble of thinking of a place to take you to.” Laughing, Sanji practically glows in elation. “You’ll love it, I promise.”

You had a peculiar sense that you would’ve loved going anywhere, as long as you were with him.

Feeling bold, you suggest, “I’m free this Saturday if that’s good for you?”

He gives you that soft, enamoured look again. Something makes you hold your breath, your fingers tingle and the entire rest of the world slows down. You’re almost certain you’re giving him the same look.

“Even if I wasn’t, love, I would have gone to you anyway.”

The next day, a Thursday, your brother unexpectedly knocks on your office door.

“Hey,” You smile. “Is something wrong?”

It’s rare for August to look for you in the middle of the day. If either of you need to speak, it’s usually you who heads into the training grounds to talk to him. The other way around occurring is curious.

“I wanted to invite you to watch the knights train this Saturday.” He says coolly. “It would boost their morale if you spoke a few words.”

The commander goes on to speak, not catching that you’ve short circuited somewhat, trying to rack your brain for a valid excuse to decline him.

“And maybe, you could pick out a personal knight like I’ve been telling you.” August prompts. “You really should—”

When he pauses, squinting his eyes at you suspiciously, you suddenly recall why you stopped trying to hide anything from him.

“You already have plans.” He says, face carefully blank.

“Yes.” Thank goodness he understood. But wait, his eyes are widening. Why is he making that face? Why is he looking at you like he just figured out—

“You have a date.” Darn it all.

August is bewildered, not knowing what to do with the information he put together. He awkwardly brushes his fingers through his hair.

“...Is he a good guy, at least?” He settles with, asking carefully in that concerned way he does when he looks out for you.

Biting your lip, you nod. “He seems to be, so far.”

“Okay.” August responds. “Does Chrysanth know?”

“It’s nothing serious.” Yet. Yet? Do you want it to be? “You’re the first I’ve told.”

A worrying thought suddenly pops in your mind. Your turn to him, distressed. “Please don’t tell her yet, August.”

“Why?” His frown deepens, like he’s about to ask more questions. Unfortunately for him, you decide you’ve had enough talking about Sanji to your brother for today.

“Aren’t you busy?” You grab his arm, guiding him out of your office. “Don’t you have training to get to?”

“I do, but—why can't Chrysanth know?” You open the door for him and try to push him out, but August plants his feet; still trying to figure you out. He doesn’t budge an inch.

But then he makes that face again. That annoying ‘aha!’ face.

“You really need to go, good luck with training! Tell the knights I said hi—” You manage to shove him out with all your strength, but at the last second before you close the door, August turns around again.

“He’s a commoner, isn’t he?” You slam the door at his face.

It doesn't matter. Sanji's status will never matter to you. Not when he's holding your hand so sweetly while he guides you through the winding streets of the city. You recognize some shops by name, knowing who owns what and when they established their business. But Sanji knows these streets, and he's more than happy to show you.

“Ah, one moment, my dear.” Sanji pulls you towards a quaint little cart overflowing with flowers. He flicks a coin to the vendor, eyes scanning all the vibrant colors and bursting petals.

Somehow, without you needing to tell him, he picks one in your favorite color. You're starting to feel like that's just part of being with Sanji—that he knows what you want, and knows what you need before you do.

The flower is soon tucked into your hair, behind your ear. His fingers linger on the side of your face—and normally, you'd break eye contact and shy away. Maybe let out a halfhearted excuse that you should continue on your way. But you don't.

You smile back at him, not bothering to hide the genuine happiness you feel. And when Sanji pulls back, you're already holding out your hand before he reaches for it. There’s something in his eyes. Something that makes you feel like you're walking on air when he tugs you along again.

As planned, Sanji takes you to the chocolatier he told you about. The building is small, tucked between larger shops in the middle of a busy street, but there’s no doubting the quality of their confections.

The elderly chef behind the counter greets Sanji like a grandson she hasn’t seen in forever. She ushers him in, enthusiastically pointing to this and that, saying she moved some furniture around as he suggested.

“It looks perfect, grand-mère.” Sanji smiles, taking in the beautiful glass display. Chocolates of every flavor cover the shelves from end to end.

Grand-mère’s eyes light up when she sees you. She casts an approving look at Sanji, “I like this one. She might even be too good for you.”

“That’s because she is.” Sanji laughs, and you pretend to browse the menu while they talk.

“No need for that, ma chèrie.” The menu is plucked from your hands. Sanji sets it aside, pointing instead to where grand-mère is behind the counter. She's wrapping up a box of chocolates that she hands to you.

“No need to pay, dear.” She smiles, patting your hand. “If he ever gives you trouble, let me know.”

Sanji whisks you away through the streets again. You've never been this far into the city before. Looking back at the path you've taken and not recognizing any of it, you know you’d be absolutely lost without Sanji by your side.

“Almost there.” He tells you, pointing to a cobbled path that inclines upwards.

What meets you at the top of the path is a small clearing. A stunning tree with blossoms on its branches stands at the center. Flowers and petals flutter away and fall onto the iron bench beneath it.

“Sanji, this is lovely...” You trail off, letting go of his hand to catch a flower into your palms. The flower twirls delicately between your fingers before you turn back to Sanji, tucking the blossom into the pocket of his suit.

Sanji takes your hand before you can pull away, bending down to press a kiss to your knuckles.

“Not nearly as lovely as you.”

The two of you spent hours under that tree, sharing chocolates and stories—feeling like this is how things are supposed to be. Not necessarily the flowers, or the chocolates, or even the sun setting beautifully in so many warm colors.

Just Sanji. With you, next to you.

All at once, it sinks in that he could be the dream you've been waiting for. But you don't tell him that.

Being enlightened on your feelings for Sanji becomes a second thought, however, when you’re swamped with work the following week.

“Don’t these people ever get tired?” Chrysanth groans, leaning back on her chair. “Why is planning a festival so hard?”

You approach her desk and place another stack of documents onto it. The numerous piles are getting concerning.

She scowls at the papers, then scowls at you. “Don’t you ever get tired?”

“Of course I do.” You tap a stack of documents to her left. “The guest list for the ball needs to be approved by tonight so we can send invitations out.” She groans again, but picks up the list anyway.

You’re unable to see Sanji as often as you’d like, but you both promised to meet once a week. Even if it’s only for a few short heartbeats together.

You dearly miss him. You think about him as you hand Chrysanth menu plans for the ball. If he saw it, he’d say that he could come up with something better.

She glances at the menu, studying it. Or at least, that’s what you thought she was doing—until her next words proved you wrong.

“So, how are you and that chef doing?”

Your heart isn’t in your chest anymore. It sank down, deep into the depths of the earth. It also must have taken all the air in the room along with it. How did she—

“August?” You blurt out.

Chrysanth shakes her head, “Zeff.” Oh no. Sanji’s boss knows? Does Sanji know that you’re—

“According to Zeff,” She proceeds, cutting off your thoughts. “One of his subordinates has been cooking a lot of personal meals over the last few weeks.”

“I can explain—” But your sister holds up a hand. Your mouth snaps shut.

She calls your name, and then you realize how serious her tone is. “Are you familiar with the kitchen’s rules when it comes to using ingredients and supplies for personal use?”

“...I’m afraid I'm not.” You didn’t know the kitchen had any such rules… but surely Sanji does. Your voice stutters, “I, did—is he in trouble?”

“He isn’t.” She answers, though her expression is still grave. “But I think that you should be aware of how much he’s doing for you.”

Chrysanth opens a drawer to retrieve a list of kitchen rules. Reading it over, everything is standard and straight to the point. You find the answer to your confusion towards the end, a small, nondescript bullet that reads:

All staff must reimburse the cost of all ingredients used for any reason outside of official duties.

“He must know who I am, then.” You say, feeling relieved that he didn’t break some sort of impossible rule. “He wouldn’t have done so much for me if he didn’t.”

Your sister purses her lips, letting the silence linger for a second before responding, “He doesn’t know, love.” She hands you another document. “He’s been paying back every cent out of pocket.”

Tracing over the timestamps and the different ingredients listed, you stare at an outline of your time with Sanji. It’s nice to reminisce, but you can’t help but wince whenever you spot something particularly pricey. What on earth are you to do with this man?

“Zeff recognized your name when he asked Sanji who he was cooking for.” Chrysanth explains. “He didn’t tell him, but he came to me and requested for Sanji to be repaid.”

“Since anything served to me counts as official duties of a royal chef.” You piece together.

“Exactly.” Chrysanth nods. “However, doing that would expose your title to him. Which is why I wanted to speak to you about this first… You should tell him.”

“I know.” Letting out a deep sigh, you agree. Sanji deserves to know more than anything. Nevertheless, the thought of him changing how he treats you—or worse, leaving—because of your status, frightens you to your core.

“I’ll talk to him tonight.” You say, but your sister’s expression slowly changes. What did she plan this time?

“Or maybe, you could put the kitchen dates on pause and tell him in a few weeks.” Surprisingly, she hands you an invitation to the ball.

“I can’t bring Sanji as my date.” No matter how much you wish you could.

“Are you sure about that?” Chrysanth is unable to contain her grin. “Open it!”

‘…you are cordially invited to the spring masquerade ball.’

You gasp, “You turned it into a masquerade?”

“Yes, I did. You won’t believe how much convincing it took for the ministers to agree.” She rolls her eyes, but then her smile returns. “Don’t waste my hard work and have fun with your man, littlest sister.”

You laugh, not expecting this outcome after all that. “I love you, even if you made me go through so much emotional turmoil for fun.” She cackles.

“Of course I had to make you sweat after what you put me through.” Chrysanth scoffs, “I can’t believe I had to hear about your love life from Zeff, of all people.”

“Ah,” She says, remembering something. “Speaking of, why’d you guess August first earlier?”

“...”

“...Did you tell him before me?” She gasps. “How could you! Give that invite back!”

“I didn’t think you’d approve.” You admit shyly. “He’s a commoner.”

“If he treats you well—which, he obviously does—I could care less about all that.” Chrysanth reaches for your hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Only those stuck up ministers will react negatively, I’m sure. We can deal with them easily enough.”

When she lets you go, she abruptly adds, “He better be cute though.”

That sends you laughing again. “Oh, Chrysanth, he’s the cutest!”

He certainly is. Especially when he sees you and grins, opening his arms wide in expectation. You fall into his embrace when you’re near enough.

Sanji takes your hand and places it on his arm, leading you away from the kitchens.

“Some of the others are still in there planning for the ball.” He explains. “It seems preparations are keeping us both busy.”

Sanji takes you to the greenhouse, which you’ve never seen at night before. Various patches of vegetables and shrubs line the space. There are trees and flowers towards the back too. It feels like a secret hideout, being here with Sanji.

“I miss spending more time with you, love.” He whispers.

“Me too.” Your heart melts thinking about how much he gave for you. You wish you had the courage to tell him the truth now, while he’s looking at you like you put up the stars in the sky, but you can’t. You’re not ready yet.

Reaching your hands up, you caress his face gently, brushing your thumb across his cheek. He places his hands over yours, keeping them there.

Sanji closes his eyes to savor the moment, and you let him. You two stay like that, your hands becoming enveloped in so much of Sanji you feel like you could recognize him with your eyes closed, with a single touch.

There’s a certain familiarity to him at this point. You would probably have some difficulty adjusting back to life without him in it. He’s so familiar that you could probably draw him. He makes you want to try.

“...I was just wondering,” You say with a knowing glint in your eye. Does he remember those words when he said them to you that first night? “We’ve been working hard for this ball, wouldn’t it be a shame not to enjoy it together?”

You give him the invitation, and he throws his head back laughing. You send him a confused look, but it all becomes clear when he pulls out an identical invitation from his jacket.

“Ah, how brilliant you are, mamour.” Sanji embraces you again, and you bask in how perfect it feels to tuck your head into the curve of his neck.

“It will be easy to find you even with a mask.” You murmur into his skin. He shivers. “You’re so goddamn tall it’s not fair.”

“I’m not too worried about you finding you, either.” Sanji begins to sway slowly with you still in his arms. It makes your heart skip a beat. You can’t wait to dance with him.

“Are you confident you’ll find me first, then?” You ask, adjusting your hold around his middle to snuggle in better.

“I’m not sure about being first,” He ponders. “But I’ll be sure it’s you when I find you.”

The greenhouse became your new meeting place while the palace was buzzing to prepare for the ball. You could only meet for a few minutes, but you treasured the time you shared just the same.

Once, Sanji tried to feed you one of the expensive fruits growing there, but you declined, making up an excuse that you were allergic. He had looked at you strangely, but didn’t press you further.

You couldn’t find the time to see Sanji the week of the ball at all. Your time was spent welcoming foreign dignitaries, discussing business and trade. You and your sister had a marvelous time shutting down a marriage proposal from some duke from the north.

It amazes you how much you’ve changed since meeting Sanji. Had the duke asked before you met him, you probably would have considered it seriously. Whereas now, your standard is far too high. The man you choose must be able to get to your heart by cooking you the best food in the kingdom and all the seas.

You’re glowing by the time you finish getting ready for the masquerade. The dress you chose is in your favorite color, with the skirt twirling dreamily when you turn.

Chrysanth permitted you to enter the ballroom a few minutes late to avoid a royal entrance. You use the time to compose what you want to say to Sanji when you tell him the truth.

‘I’m a princess, and I think I might love you’, is that a lot to say? You sigh, smoothing your hands over your dress.

The clock on the wall chimes. It’s been fifteen minutes since the ball officially started. You put on your mask, tying the ribbon behind your head to secure it.

After one last glance at yourself in the mirror, you head to the ballroom—looking much more collected than you actually feel.

Maybe you shouldn’t have bragged to Sanji that you would find him easily, because you don’t.

You were mistaken when you thought all you’d had to do was look for a tall, blond man with a blue mask. (Sanji’s mask is surely going to be blue. He wouldn’t consider any other color. You bet your foot on it.) It’s unnerving how many people fit that description tonight.

You even find your brother before you find Sanji. August is dressed in surprisingly simple, all black attire. He looks more like a gentleman than a commander, lacking all those sparkly medals he’s usually required to wear at events.

“Where’s your date?” August asks, ducking his head slightly so that you can hear him over the crowd. “Chrysanth bragged about setting you two up.”

“I haven’t found him yet.” You answer dispiritedly. “I thought it would be easy.”

August looks around, and you know that if he knew what Sanji looked like, he would be able to track him down in a flash. You’re about to ask what you should do when August suddenly bows, extending a hand to you.

“May I have this dance, fair lady?” He asks in a fake pretentious accent that instantly makes you laugh.

It would be nice to say yes, but you desperately want Sanji to be your first dance. August would understand.

But you aren’t able to decline, someone else beats you to it.

“I’m afraid her first dance is spoken for.” Sanji’s voice reaches your ears and suddenly the room is brighter than it was.

You almost gasp, elated that he found you. Were it not for that frown on his face, you would have voiced out your joy.

August and Sanji stare each other down. Neither of them say anything, but it’s clear that their first impressions of each other aren’t the most pleasant. Not liking the hostility you’re sensing is building, you tug at Sanji’s hand.

Your brother’s eyes soften at that, and he bows again, this time to say goodbye. “I’ll see you later then.”

You watch August go, and Sanji grumbles something you don’t catch under his breath. You'll have to properly introduce them at some point, but worrying about their relationship can wait. You really must cheer up this grump who thought he was going to miss your first dance.

“Dance with me, stranger?” Intertwining your fingers together, you smile and take in how handsome he looks. His suit is still black, but there are several accents in dark blue—the same color as his mask.

The deep navy color makes his eyes look almost crystalline, and you recognize why you love him so immensely when he smiles.

“I would be honored.”

Sanji is more graceful than you expected. His movements are controlled and precise, never moving too fast and always making sure you’re falling into step beside him.

He’s proven, once again, that he can surpass your every expectation. Sanji spins you around, catching you by your waist and grinning before sweeping you off your feet again.

By the end of it, you’re left breathless due to far too many reasons, and they all involve him.

You had tried bringing Sanji to a romantic spot; maybe a balcony, or somewhere by a fountain in the gardens—but it seems that a lot of other people had the same idea.

Everywhere was crowded, but you suppose where you ended up is romantic in its own way. With the sky being cloudless tonight, you could see every star twinkling away through the greenhouse’s glass roof.

Let the stars bear witness to you pouring out your heart to this man.

“Sanji…” You start, mentally preparing yourself.

“Yes, ma chèrie?” Sanji tucks a lock of your hair behind your ear, you have his complete attention.

“There are things I must tell you.” You swallow the lump in your throat, not brave enough to look him in the eye yet; though you grip his hands tightly in yours.

Sanji waits. He doesn’t complain that you might be holding onto him too tightly, or nag at you for taking too long to put your words together.

When you finally look up to meet his eyes, you find the strength to breathe it out, “...I’m a princess.”

There’s this moment again, when you hold your breath and wait for his reaction; like when you first told him your name. Suddenly, it feels like you’re in the kitchen eating sandwiches with him again.

And, just as it did back then, his reaction surprises you.

His expression barely changes, the only difference being the barely-there furrow of his brows in concern.

“I know, love.” He says.

“What?!” You drop his hands in shock. “Since when?”

Sanji blinks. “Since the moment we met.”

“But, I—why did you pay everything back? Why didn’t you ever mention it?”

His eyes widen, “Ah, is that why you wouldn’t eat anything from me these past few weeks? I knew you couldn’t be allergic to pineberries.”

“Sanji, answer the question.” You pout, and he rubs your arms in an attempt to soothe you.

It’s Sanji’s turn to compose himself, you notice. He looks like he wants for your time together to stay lighthearted, when the thoughts in his mind are far from it.

“You didn’t want to talk about your duties, so I never asked.” Sanji shrugs, but you can see him getting nervous.

“As for reimbursing the ingredients, I suppose I was worried that… you wouldn’t think of our time together dearly if I was just another chef on your staff.”

Your heart shudders when he lets out a shaky breath. Oh Sanji.

“But that’s the truth isn’t it? I am, and yet I—” He pauses, eyes searching yours desperately. “If I didn’t pay for it, I would be admitting that a chef was all I’d ever be to you.”

You open your mouth to speak, but he cuts you off. “I don’t regret it. I would make the same choice if I had to.” Through the mask, you can see his resolve, but his hands shake as he holds you.

“I didn’t expect to feel this strongly about you.” Sanji continues, “You’re just so lovely, making me feel like I could take on the world for you.”

With your hands quivering the slightest bit, you pull at the ribbon behind your head. Your mask clatters to the floor. Raising your hands towards him, you push his mask up until it’s off, revealing the face of the man who has completely enamoured you; body and soul and all.

You think back to how the colors lit him up beautifully, that one sunset you shared under that blossoming tree. And now, he’s still just as beautiful, in this greenhouse under the moon and the stars.

You love him all the same as you did then and every moment before. With the weight from keeping secrets gone from your chest, you finally let yourself admit it out loud.

“I love you, Sanji.” You confess. “I’ll go with you, if you’ll take on the world.” You try to say it calmly, but tears build up in your eyes. “You mean so much to me. You’re my dream.”

Sanji inches you closer, wrapping one arm around your waist while his other hand cradles the back of your head. “I love you too. More than you could possibly imagine.”

You quip back at him while wrapping your arms around his neck, “I think I have a pretty good idea.”

Sanji leans in the same moment you do, lips meeting in a passionate kiss that sends sparks running through every inch of your being. He pulls you impossibly tighter against him, strong hands caressing your back and holding firm at your waist. Your fingers rake through his hair, touching him to make sure he’s real. He’s here. He loves you. He knew. He always knew.

That night, you realized that your favorite taste from Sanji is his lips on yours. But, once again, he won’t hear you tell him that.

…

Sanji first saw you when a ceremony was held to welcome the new palace staff.

Everyone’s attention had been on your sister, the queen. Understandably so, but his eyes always strayed back to you. You looked gorgeous, wearing a stunning dress perfect for a princess as yourself. A cape draped tastefully down your back. And your crown sparkled brightly under the sun; but try as it might, it couldn’t be as dazzling as you.

Sanji was drawn to you instantly, and he thought he would go on with his life never understanding why.

That is, until you walked into the kitchen at two in the morning to make a sandwich.

It would have been impossible for him to not recognize you. Regular office clothes or not, something was different in the way you carried yourself. It was difficult to miss.

Other people would have thought you appeared mundane. And yet, Sanji found you the most beautiful then.

Because you let yourself smile more when you don't wear your crown.

But he won’t tell you that.

tags: @songsofadelaide-archive @amitydoodlez @sweetexistentialism @writingmysanity @hotchocolattee @dimplewonie @hearts4zoro @kenkenmaaa @ay0nha @watercolorskyy @holymusicalmothman @appalost

author's note (yes, again)♡— sooo, what do we think about sworn knight!zoro x princess!reader ? 👀

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sanatomis · 2 months

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⋆𐙚₊˚⊹ ᡣ𐭩 ── 𝐀 𝐅𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐇 𝐎𝐅 𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄!

a child is bound to feel neglected when they discover no one bothered to show up for their science fair, especially when all their peers have someone to dote on them. it seems fushiguro megumi is no exception.

content. female!reader with she/her pronouns, feminine nicknames (princess), established relationship with satoru, slight angst with a happy ending.

notes. nobody was there when i presented my end of the year research-project as a 14 year old, so megumi (age 7), baby, i'm gonna make sure there's someone there for you.

࣪taglist. | series masterlist.

Megumi never really cared about science fairs. To him, they’re just a regular afternoon at school that he’ll have to sit through until he’s finally allowed to go home. He may think of them as unnecessary—as he does not believe in a good reason for parents to come to the school and marvel at their child’s (very much mediocre) creation—but he has never had a strong opinion towards them. They were just. . .there.

He didn’t pay them much mind, and that exact indifference turned out to be the motive behind the very serious crime of putting a flyer in the bin.

“Look what I found!”

There’s a sense of annoyance that bubbles up in his stomach when Satoru puts the invitation to the science fair in front of him. Megumi’s brows furrow, and he purses his lips—leave it to him to find something he doesn’t want to have found.

“Hm?” You hum, and lean over to look. One of Satoru’s fingers taps impatiently on the flyer, as if it’s saying ‘look, I caught him hiding something!’. Megumi briefly contemplates biting the digit clean off. “Science fair. . .Is this yours, Megumi?”

While reading, you put the bowl of rice back down onto the dinner table, and Tsumiki gingerly grabs it upon return. You mouth the words as you do so, and the boy nearly gags when he watches Satoru’s lovesick gaze at your little quip. It’s so disgustingly sappy, he nearly forgets you asked him a question. Nearly, as it had induced just enough anxiety into him to make him remember.

“Mhm,” he mumbles, and pokes a piece of chicken with his chopsticks.

You stop reading at his confirmation. There’s a sad look in your eye, it forms quickly and is instantly directed at him. Megumi doesn’t like it. Especially since he’s most likely the cause of it. “Why didn’t you tell us?” You ask, and he finds himself at a loss of words.

Why didn’t he tell you? In all honesty, it just didn’t occur to him to do so. He has never cared about science fairs, nor has he had people who attended them for him. Most times, they are for parents only—so try as she might, Tsumiki was never allowed inside. Megumi eventually stopped bringing them up. He felt a little sorry for all the failed attempts his sister (very lovingly) made. But now. . .well, yes, why didn’t he tell you?

He doesn’t know the answer to that.

“Didn’t think of it,” he says eventually, because he knows you’ve been trying to get him to talk more; verbalising his feelings, is what you called it.

You frown at his answer, and it makes him wonder if he said the wrong thing. A quick glance between you and the man at your side is shared. Megumi thinks that can’t be good.

“It says it’s for tomorrow evening,” you tell Satoru, and push the flyer over back to his side of the table. “Are you free, then?”

Satoru pauses. He’s not free, Megumi knows he isn’t. Not because Satoru told him so, but because he listened to the phone call he had a few hours ago. It’s bad manners, he knows—he can hear you in his head, and he shouldn’t have done it. But, Satoru talks so loudly, he should simply quiet down if he doesn’t want others to hear.

“I sure am,” he says then, and Megumi tries to hide the surprise on his face. He’s lying. Liar. Liar. Liar. It’s all that goes through the boy’s head, but he doesn’t say it out loud.

He does wonder why Satoru lied, but he quickly gets his answer when he sees the happy smile that breaks out on your lips. “That’s great!” You say, and place one of your hands on his. Seemingly delighted, you look at Megumi. “We’ll be there.”

“It’s nothing special,” Megumi says. His voice is clear this time, as opposed to his previous mumbling. Once again, he hears you in his head. You’re allowed to make noise. “You really don’t have to.”

“Nonsense,” Satoru chimes.

You continue his sentence. “We’ll be there.”

We’ll be there.

. . .So, where are you?

Megumi isn’t too proud to admit that he’s currently desperately looking for the blabbermouth you call your boyfriend. It’s not because he’d rather have him here than you, but his white hair makes for a stark contrast among the crowd. It’s so very easy to find, and yet it’s nowhere to be found. He’s not here, and that, by extension, means you probably aren’t here, either. The realisation hits him harder than he thought it would have.

For some reason, there’s a deep sadness. He thinks it’s a little silly. Nobody has ever shown up before, and he was fine with that. Being alone isn’t new to him. None of the situation he’s currently in is surprising, and yet Megumi has to fight off the tears welling up in his eyes. Why is he feeling this way? This hasn’t happened before.

Megumi doesn’t care about science fairs. But, if that were true, then why do all the children and their parents suddenly make the room feel smaller? He swallows. All his classmates are darting around the room, chattering and motioning towards their projects while their parents gawk in feigned awe. As they always did. Except now, he feels something akin to resentment boil from within. His hand balls up into a fist.

There isn’t a good enough reason for him to feel so disappointed. The position he finds himself in isn’t unfamiliar, and he knows Satoru was initially called-in for a mission somewhere in Ginza. Something came up, that’s all there is to it. Megumi knew better than to get his hopes up, or so he thought. How pitiful.After all this time, he still hasn’t learned.

And suddenly, he’s four years old again, and crawling into the crumpled bed sheets of his father’s ever-so-empty bed. He’s holding onto the fabric as if it’ll slip through his fingers, and stifling his quiet sobs with the pillow that doesn’t carry the same comforting scent any longer. It hasn’t for months now. Megumi keeps hoping that one day, it will. Tsumiki peeks into the room, and he pretends not to notice. He’s four years old, and has no parents, and absolutely no idea why his father left without him.

Why was he forgotten?

There is a lump forming in his throat. Its imminent appearance lulled him out of the faded memory, and into the present—the present, where he is, once again, forgotten about. Perhaps that is simply the tale of Megumi Fushiguro.

“Mom, look! I added the glitter to it just as you said,” a girl speaks from the booth next to him. “What do you think? It’s pretty, right? Do you think it’s pretty?”

Her mother laughs, and pets her head once the girl starts tugging on her arm. “Mhm, it’s beautiful, darling. I’m very proud of you.”

Megumi doesn’t necessarily want to cry. Though, when his eyes water momentarily, there’s very little he can do about it; he feels even more powerless when his bottom lip starts trembling. He once read that blinking rapidly will make one’s tears disappear like snow before the sun, except that article mustn’t have taken the feeling of heartbreak into consideration. It doesn’t matter how much Megumi blinks, the first tear falls down his cheek a few seconds later.

“Huh? What’s this? You really need to work on your handwriting, Megumi, your name is barely rea. . .”

A part of him is convinced that the universe has it out for him. There is no other reason for the constant waves of misfortune that strike him. Sniffling, he looks up at the man in front of him—and the worst thought he has ever had surfaces. He is so very happy to see Satoru Gojo.

Satoru’s eyes widen in shock upon seeing the water staining the boy’s cheeks, but even then Megumi can’t find it within himself to feel embarrassed. Not at this moment. With teary eyes, he blinks up at the tall man that snatched him up from the street like he was some discarded piece of free furniture.

“Where’s. . .” he croaks out, but gets interrupted rather quickly.

“She’s talking to your teacher,” Satoru says softly. It’s a new tone of voice, one Megumi vaguely remembers as the one he normally reserved for you. This is making him uncomfortable—even a blind person would see that, but Satoru still tries. “Hey, it’s alright, buddy. She’s here.��

The pat on his head nearly feels awkward. . .No, it does feel awkward. Satoru is petting him as if he were gently pressing a buzzer. It’s not even remotely close to the soft caresses you use when soothing him back to sleep, but it still brings him some strange sense of comfort. Megumi doesn’t swat his hand away.

“There, there,” Satoru mumbles, and crouches down to his height. It’s a little silly to see such a man all folded up, his legs too long to look normal. “There was an accident a little further down the road. It took us a little longer to get here.”

Megumi lets out a shaky sigh. The petting stops shortly after. It’s quiet for a little while after—even if the room is filled with adults and children alike. Satoru looks at him, and he briefly wonders how you’re able to withstand looking into his eyes for as long as you do sometimes; Megumi thinks the blues will blind him soon. He gulps. For as annoying he might be when speaking, it turns out that Satoru Gojo is much more unnerving when he’s silent—silent, and looking right at you.

Adorned with white lashes, Satoru’s baby blues pick Megumi apart at the seam. The boy has the brief idea to ask what he is thinking, but then decides against it.

“Are you okay?”

The sound of his voice startles him. He hadn’t expected him to speak any time soon.

“Megumi,” he calls out. “Are you okay?”

Is he okay? Megumi doesn’t know for sure. There are a lot of emotions he went through these past twenty minutes, and he isn’t entirely convinced that his brain was able to process them all. But for now—for now, he at least feels okay.

Megumi nods. It’s all he does, not confident in his ability to verbalise his thoughts at the moment. He sniffs again. He’s okay, things are okay.

“Good, that’s good,” Satoru mumbles, and his eyes dart towards the right side of the room; towards the door. He clears his throat, and one of his fingers carefully makes its way towards Megumi’s cheek. “That’s good. She’s here now, see?”

Megumi visibly perks up, and, while still a little shaken, starts searching for you. As soon as he lifts his head up, there’s a soft brush against his skin. He wavers for a moment, confusion on his face once he realises Satoru brushed some stray tears away. The two look at each other once again. Why did he. . .

“Oh, there you are, lovie,” you say, relief apparent in your voice. It never takes you long to embrace Megumi—you once said he’d be stuck in your arms forever if you had your way. The boy moulds into you, and his anxiety dissipates as soon as your perfume hits his nose; the scent comforting him. “I’m so sorry, there was an accident, and all roads were blocked, and. . .God, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to keep you waiting for so long.”

You cup his cheeks in his hands, and Megumi suddenly feels under scrutiny. It’s as if you’re searching for any inkling that your late arrival had caused him unease. It clicks, then, why Satoru did what he did. He’s a buffoon most of the time, but it seems there are some working cells left in his brain—when it concerns you, of course. Megumi is very thankful for him now. Though, he will deny ever feeling so.

“Alright, princess, let him breathe,” Satoru says, the usual light lilt to his voice has made a return. There’s a small smile on his face as he watches you fuss over him. “Don’t you want to show us your project, Megumi?”

The mention of his project catches your attention. “Oh! Yes, will you show us, Gumi?”

One might think you’re speaking about some grand architecture design rather than a small, barely functioning science project. That is, if they took the look in your eyes as anything to go by. The boy glances between you and Satoru. Megumi then decides that, yes, he would like to show it to you—he always has wanted to show them.

You weren’t his parents, but you were at his side. And when Megumi looks at the near-giddy excitement showing up on Satoru’s face, and the unconditional support on yours. . .he thinks that may just be enough.

He nods, and finds his words again.

“I—I will, yes. Follow me, please.”

taglist [based off the last fic in the series, let me know if it’s no longer wanted]: @torusdoll @sad-darksoul

#ꕤ — sanatomis darling: fushiguro megumi #ꕤ — sanatomis darling: gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #platonic fushiguro megumi x reader #fushiguro megumi x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader

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indigovigilance · 6 months

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The Final Fifteen is about Terry Pratchett's Death

read on Ao3

The final fifteen is obviously a major plot point, and serves a role in a story that was written long before Terry Pratchett was ever diagnosed with Alzheimer’s. But the scene itself wasn’t written until just a few years ago, during the writing of Season 2. In fact, the scene came about during a park bench conversation between Neil Gaiman and John Finnemore.

Others have noted that the non-romantic kiss that signals the story moving into the third act is a Neil Gaiman staple. The function of such a kiss, from Gaiman’s perspective, is to communicate.

In 2023 we are seeing a lot of stories written by men, for men, about men who are best friends and discover that their friendship can go deeper than the norms of society would usually allow; that platonic and romantic love are not so far apart, and perhaps the better word for a relationship that can be described this way is intimacy.

Neil Gaiman has made it clear in interviews that his friendship with Terry Pratchett was deeply intimate. They began collaborating on what would become Good Omens in the 1980’s, endured a tumultuous experience together through the first publication, wherein Neil offered to martyr himself on behalf of Terry if the book failed, and then spent the better part of two decades touring the world, meeting the people who loved their work. Neil would even off-handedly remark that Terry’s fans were so cheerful, and Neil’s seemed like they were ready to kill themselves; wouldn’t it be nice if they got married? From the outside, it looks very much as if Terry was Aziraphale-coded, and Neil was Crowley-coded, working together in an unexpected partnership to make the world a little bit more tolerable for the humans inhabiting it. I am not conjecturing that Neil and Terry had romantic inclinations the way their fictional characters do, but I think it is fair to say that their opposites-attract intimacy became an important part of who each of them were.

In 2007 Terry Pratchett was diagnosed with posterior cortical atrophy, a rare form of Alzheimer’s. As the disease progressed, he began to lose himself, and knew that the person he used to be was slipping away. He wanted to end his life on his own terms, and die as himself, but England did not and still does not allow for voluntary euthanasia or assisted suicide. He advocated for the right to die but never achieved it, and ultimately succumbed to the disease in 2015. Neil Gaiman has spoken a lot on the topic of death, and one answer of his that resonated with me reads:

Mostly it feels terrible. It even feels terrible when it’s someone who has been in a lot of pain for a long time or has not really been there for a long time and you know that Death has in some ways been a blessing: suddenly you are mourning the whole person.

It doesn’t get easier as you age. It gets stranger. The point where you realise how many people you used to know and like who aren’t there any longer, and you cannot talk to them or see them or laugh with them is painful in a way that I had never expected. The first time that someone you had a romantic relationship with dies and you realise that there had been moments both of you shared and now you are the sole custodian of those moments and one day you will be gone and they will be lost forever is peculiarly strange and hard.

~~~

The entire show is seeded with references to Terry Pratchett, but the most important one is the one that’s missing. Neil Gaiman cameoed as a sleeping moviegoer in S1E4, but a long time ago, he and Terry had discussed cameoing as sushi restaurant-goers, because sushi was weirdly prominent in the book. That cameo would have been in S1E1. But when it came time to do it, Neil couldn’t. Not without Terry.

Neil: I was gonna say our location is a Chinese restaurant we’d had turned into a sushi restaurant. So Terry and I, Terry Pratchett and I, had a standing… not even a standing joke, just a standing plan, that we were going to have sushi - there was going to be a scene in Good Omens where sushi was eaten and we were gonna be extras, we were gonna sit in the background, eating sushi while it was done. And I was so looking forward to this and, so I wrote this scene with it being sushi, even though Terry was gone, with that in mind and I thought: Oh, I’ll sit and I’ll eat lots of sushi as an extra, this will be my scene as an extra, I’ll just be in the background. And then, on the day, or a couple of days before, I realized that I couldn’t do it.

Douglas: You never told me this before either. I might have pushed you into doing it, had I known. I think you were right not to tell me.

Neil: I was keeping it to me self ‘cause I was always like: Oh, maybe I’ll be… this will be my cameo. And then I couldn’t. I was just so sad, ‘cause Terry wasn’t there. And it was probably the day that I missed Terry the most of all of the filming - it was just this one scene ‘cause it was written for Terry and all of the sushi meals we’d ever had and all of the strange way that sushi ran through Good Omens.

~~~

In the Final Fifteen, it is clear that Crowley and Aziraphale want to stay together. They love each other. They each know that the other loves them. There’s nothing that needs to be said, no convincing that their bond is true and real and precious.

But Aziraphale has to go to Heaven, and Crowley cannot follow him there.

I cannot speculate what it must have been like for Neil to endure losing a friend who, though I’m sure he desperately wanted to still be in his life, he also knew that life had become a burden to him, and grieved that Terry was not able to choose the time and manner of his departure from this Earth. This sort of complex grief, we fan-ficcers know, is the kind that is often best processed through story-telling.

I think that what we see Crowley going through in the Final Fifteen, alongside its importance to the story arc of Good Omens overall, is Neil processing his grief at losing his friend Terry Pratchett, and even the kiss, that violent, terrible, awful kiss, was the symbolic representation of Neil saying goodbye.

#neil gaiman #terry pratchett #aziraphale #crowley #good omens #good omens 2 #good omens meta #ivoc #this meta ended up being only about 2/3 the length of my usual metas and somehow that feels appropriate because Terry's life ended too soon #and the jarring brevity of this piece parallels that feeling of sudden unexpected loss #for me anyways I don't know about you guys #if this made your eyes even slightly moist you are obligated to reblog to help someone else feel their feels #I don’t make the rules #but them is the rules #blessed by Beelzebub

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teamhandsometcth · 4 months

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A Monégasque Story ( Part 1 ) - Charles Leclerc

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5

Summary of the series - Y/n is Charles' best friend little sister. They grew up together but haven't seen each other's for years. Their relationship seems to take a different turn when Charles stay at her’s and her brother's.

Warning - Both Y/n's and Charles' POV, Fem reader, Both Charles and Y/n speaking French (translated) tension, tooth rotting fluff, three years age gap, mature content, 18+, brother's best friend, friends to lovers, she felt first he felt harder...

Disclaimer : I'm French and my English is NOT perfect ⚠️ Please don't stole or repost my stories on any other sites. Btw reblogs are more then welcomed.

Here I am, laying on my best friend's parents couch after spending the last 24 hours doing exactly that plus dealing with a massive hungover.

My flight landed in Monaco three days ago, and since that, Giselle and I have been glued to each other.

We didn't get to see each other much lately, I've been so busy with my finals. And with us living in different places, Giselle in London, and me in Paris, it's complicated to match our plannings.

I called her the very moment after landing, which quickly resulted to her proposing to celebrate the start of summer break (get drunk) with our friends. And that's exactly what we did. Wish resulted to our current state.

She hand me a cup of tea for the third time this afternoon, as we're desperately trying to find a place to spend the other half of our vacation.

I sit up and slightly roll up the sleeves of my cardigan before taking the cup. "Why don't we stay simple ? I think Italy would be the perfect place. It's sunny, the food is delicious, and the men are too..." I propose, a teasing smile dancing on my lips.

She laugh and shook her head lightly. "the men part does not work as an argument for me."

I meet her gaze, a knowing expression plastered on my face. "fair enough. Although I'm kind of up for a summer flying. You know, get to think about something else than work !"

"Can't relate, I never think about work." Giselle say calmly bringing her cup to her lips. I let out a laugh at her statement.

My phone suddenly start going off. I bend over to grab it from the coffee table, trying my best not to fall off the couch.

I unlock my phone, and quickly glance at the text conversation between my brother and I.

He was asking at what time I plan to get home. I quickly tap an answer before putting my phone back down.

Two empty cups and equal number of unread messages from Raphael later. Im finally standing at the front door.

"Text me when you're home !" Gisele shout from the kitchen. "yup." I answer loudly enough for her to hear before closing the door behind me.

I live in Paris since I started college, and even if I fly back to Monte Carlos often, I still miss it here.

My parents sold out our family home two years ago, since we weren't living with them anymore. Plus, they were always talking about traveling around the world just the two of them, and how exciting it will be to have this adventure for their marriage.

Even if it broke my heart to say goodbye to this house, that hold so many of my childhood memories, im really happy for them. So now, when im back in town, I usually go to my brother's.

It take me less than 15 minutes to walk there, as I enjoy the view of the sun starting set slowly. I missed it so much. One of the thing I love the most about Monaco is how little it is, you can literally walk everywhere. Ironically enough, it's also what I hated the most about living here when I was a teenager, it seemed like my world was so little. Now I found peace in coming back here, it seems like time stop for a moment.

Once at the flat, I close the front door behind me and drop my bag on the couch.

The windows are open, letting a soft breeze dance between the sheers as the golden light from the now lot lower sun fill the living room.

I sat down on the couch, and send a quick message to Giselle to tell her I got home safe, Knowing that if I forget, she's going to come see for herself. She can be such a drama queen sometimes, and I love her for that.

I make my way toward my bedroom wanting only one thing, take a long hot shower. But as i pass the guest room a voice catch my attention.

I furrow my eyes brow as hear someone speak but it's not my brother. It sound familiar but I can't seem to remember where I heard it.

I push the door open, and my eyes directly fall on a pair of green ones. I frown, not only they seem familiar but I know exactly who own them.

And just like that, everything stop. I dive deeply into them, my breath become shorter and my mind goes back where my teenager heart installed itself years ago.

7 years earlier :

I am on the porch of my family house sitting on the staircase, my back against the gate. Observing my brother and his friends playing basket in our garden, a book with the world cheesiest cover in my hand. I was mesmerized by it, it was my first romance book ever and it made me dream of something I didn't know I wanted. Love.

As my eye travel between the pages I can't repress the big smile of pure euphoria off of my fifteen years old face.

I only detached my curious eyes off the words when I see a shadow approach. I quickly shut the book and look up, only to see Charles. "Hey." I say a little too flustered. "Hey you too, what are you reading ?" he say trying to catch the book in my hand, I try an escape but he take it from my grip with a devious smile.

I wasn't particularly ashamed of reading romance, but definitely ashamed that my crush just caught me reading it, which is so gross.

He look at the cover, with a teasing grin on his perfectly sculptured face.

"Oh I seeeee," I drop my head between my knee and let out an ashamed groan. He giggle, "Stop being so shy, im just teasing you. This is so cute honestly."

"Charles stop I don't want to speak about that with you." I tell him, ready for a hole to open under me and swallow me entirely.

He kneel in front of me, make me raise my head by taking my chin between his hand, caressing it softly. "You know you don't have to be ashamed with me, it's good." He say softly. " It's completely normal for you to find interest in that, everyone do at our age, it's called being a teenager." He laugh lightly, I do too relaxing a little.

"But seriously, if you have any questions whatever it is you can ask me, I will be happy to help you."

I blush, look down then look back up at him again. "thank you Charlie."

"Charles ?" I ask in shock.

I stand there, completely stuck in place. I literally fell my heart beating in every fibers of my skin.

He look so handsome. I take my time to look at him up and down, taking in every changes and details. Don't get me wrong, I watch formula one so I know what he look like. It's just that it's been a while since I've seen him for real.

I finally look back in his eyes, just to discover he was doing the exact same thing I was doing a second ago. He was gazing intently at every curve and part of me, like he was trying to learn every single one of them.

When his beautiful green-ish colored eyes cross my again, smiles broke on both of our faces.

"Salut," (hi ) He let out suddenly, His voice holding an inch of hesitation and shyness in it. It's so freaking cute.

I try to contain my smile, still not believing my eyes. "Salut,"

Charles is my brother's best-friend. We grew up together, and for as far as can remember, I always had a crush on him. How could I not.

It has been one sided for the most part. Till 4 years ago when he started to reciprocate, we kind of started something but not so long after, I was leaving for Paris.

Since that, we keep on missing each other. Every time im here he's out of town, and vise versa. We didn't talk during this 4 years. We just kind of got on with our lives.

"Raph m'as pas dit que tu venais. T'es arrivé quand ?" ( Raph didn't tell me you were coming, when did you get here ? ) I say in disbelief, while going for a quick hug.

"J'ai atterri ce matin. C'était pas prévu mais je vais être à Monaco pour quelles semaines." ( I landed this morning actually. It wasn't planned, but im going to be in Monaco for a couple of weeks.) Charles smile as I pull away, he look at me up and down again. It make me weak in the knees and I fell like somehow he knows it.

As I look away my gaze catch a luggage at the foot of the bed. I look back at Charles in confusion. "You're staying here ?"

Charles nod lightly "Only for a couple of days. I let one of my friend and his girlfriend crash at my place since they are in town for a couple of weeks, and I wasn't supposed to be home for a while."

He's still not taking his eyes off of me, making me melt under his gaze.

He lock eyes with me, not saying anything. I love the way he look at me, he make me fell special. He blush when he realize he was staring.

He clear his throat lightly, "I was one the phone with your brother just before you got here and he's going to be out for a while, something to do with one of the boat."

I nod, "Right, well what do you want to do meanwhile ?" I question.

He smile at me "Viens avec moi, j'ai besoin d'aide pour défaire mes bagages." ( Come with me, I need help with unpacking. ) he say his hand delicately going on the small of my back slightly pushing me toward his luggage.

We start to unpack, Charles stand by the drawer, as im siting on the bed passing him his clothes. Catching up on what happened in our lives lately.

"J'ai hâte de la rencontrer, je suis sur qu’elle a des super pouvoirs. J'ai jamais vu Raph s'attacher autant à quelqu'un avant." ( Im actually quite impatient to meet this girl, im sure she have super powers. I've never seen Raph head over heels over someone before. )

I nod at him smiling at the thought "Il l'est vraiment. Et c'est vrai qu'elle est incroyable" ( Yeah, he really his. And she is pretty amazing I might add.) here he his again looking at me ready to tease me.

"Je suis certain que tu dis pas ça juste parce que c'est ta meilleure amie !"( Im sure you're not saying that because she is your best friend !) I chock my head, a smile on my lips. "Non pas du tout. Toute les personnes qui me fréquente sont genial" (No I'm not, every person who frequent me are incredible.) I say jokingly.

"Je devrai rester coller a toi alors" ( I should stay as close to you as possible then! ) He state teasingly. I don't know how long he's actually planning on staying but im gonna have a pretty hard time if he continue to say things like that to me. Im already so overwhelmed with emotions and it's only been an hour.

I always thought the silly crush I had on him will stay in my childhood, like something I will think about and be like "how could that happen". but here I am feeling this exact same sensations I was feeling on that porch, like nothing really changed.

Im not naive. I don't expect anything from him. I already kind of experimented how he is when it comes to relationships, and that’s not attractive to me.

We continue to unpack everything, while he's telling me some behind the scene of formula one. I love listening to him talking about his work, he's so passionate about it and excited to explain every details of it. It's charming.

"So what are you planning to do while you’re in break ?" We moved to his bed, after we finished organizing everything. I sat in front of his lied down body.

"I don't know actually, it's been a while since I've been here for more than two days." He began, stirring up a little. "I think I'm just happy to get to be with you and Raph, so whatever we do is fine by me" the biggest smile made its way on my face. "Thank you for saying that." he smile back "it's true."

He get up to take something out of the front pocket of his travel bag. "Wish made me think, I have something for you." he get back to me with a little package in his hand and give it to me.

I furrow my eyebrows at him as open it, just to see a gorgeous necklace with a little charm dawdling at the end of it. "It's so pretty, but why?" I say locking eyes with him. Im in aww, my literally eyes shining, "I saw it a few months ago when I was in Italy and it made me think of you, so I buy it and since im here I thought it was the perfect occasion to give it to you."

My eyes widened "Slow down a minutes, you buy this months ago ? Did you already knew you we were going to see each other ? I don't understand." I say with a confused expression.

He chock his head, "No I didn't, but I knew I was going to see you at some point, and I wanted to have it then." I blush at his thoughtfulness.

"Thank you so much Charles." I jump in his arms which he immediately respond by squeezing me tightly.

We stay like that just enjoying the warm of our bodies against one another.

Once we pulled away, I sat with my back toward Charles. He pass the necklace in front of me. I take a fistful of my hair, freeing my neck for him.

Once he attached it, I drop the hold on my hair making them fall back on my back. he push them away a little and press a kiss on my shoulder not saying anything. I fell butterflies rise in my stomach.

I turn around locking eyes with him "Thank you." He blush lightly. "You're very welcome love."

—————————

When my brother gets home, Charles and I are sitting on the balcony, enjoying the cooler air.

I love how Monaco fell like a party every single second. From the moment the sun went completely down, thousands of apartments started to light up all around the principality.

We can see people walking down the road all dressed up and ready to have a blast. it's a all mood, and it's magical.

"Y/n you're here." I hear from behind me. I stop my conversation with Charles and sightly twist my upper body on the sofa to look behind me, inside the apartment.

I send a smile in Raphael's direction, as he make his way to us, opening the already ajar glass door.

"Hey, sorry that I took so long." he say, kissing my cheeks to say hello.

He didn't miss the oportunity to ruffle my hair just after, just to piss me off.

If a look could kill, he'll be dead by now.

"Some idiots, rented a yacht and ruined it, I had to deal with all the paper work for the assurance, and the obviously dump tourists, that suddenly couldn't understand anything I was saying." he sight, crossing his arms and leaning against the gate.

My brother own yachts and boats. Well technically "we" do. He had taken upon the family business when our parents moved. He rent them so people can organize parties, weeding... And he also navigate for people who went to visit around.

"Shit." Charles let out from behind me, concern in his voice. "And did you find a solution ?"

"Yeah, well at least I think so, we'll see in the morning." he smile sightly, and focus his attention back on me. "btw Charles is staying with us!"

"Yeah i caught up on that."I snort at my brother, making Charles laugh.

I send a smile in his direction which he is quick to return, with his pretty dimples.

"So, what do you guys want to do tonight ?" I ask looking between the two.

I hate being the one responsable of picking places to go to, because if it's not good or something it's all on me.

Raphael, shrugs "Whatever you and Charles want, im not picky." And it's true, he was incredibly easy to please.

I turn to Charles, he turn to me, smirk, than say the infamous words "whatever you pick is fine by me." This bastard.

"You guys are impossible." I sight.

To be continued...

Part 2 >>

I hope you guys liked it. This was the first part of what I hope will be a story. I created a masterlist so check it out if you want. Thank you so much for taking the time to read my story. If you want to request something, go for it and I will try my best to make it as good as possible. Have an amazing day or night, and maybe see you soon. With love, 💜

Ps : don’t forget to share if you want to

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marymary-diva17 · 3 months

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Heeeyyy it's been a while since I've been here, but i got another idea.

So you remember me telling about the trope of readee being hated and suxh by the sully, well, instead of the usual 'sad reader wanting to fit in the family and gets hurt in the process', i actually thought of a reader who is overly calm and very strategic and honestly doesn't care about the fact that her family hates her, cause she spends more time with her friends and such and only comes when it's an emergency. She's also better than Neteyam at being a warrior that she trained many new warriors and has a very high spiritual connection with eywa, even more than Kiri

sully family x sister/daughter

The sully family had live by two quotes one of them being " sully stick together" and second on being " that their family was a fortress" well that was all true but false. There was one family member that didn't get the same love and treatment like all the other children within the family and outside of the family. That family member is Jake and neytiri daughter, who never seem to with over her parents and even her siblings along with the rest of the clan. A child who does not get love and care will soon grow up by themselves and becoming independent, and might not return love and care to those who never gave it to them.

y/n " ........" you soon rolled out of bed way before any of your siblings wake up, even before your parents as well. This is the norm for you from such a young age you learned to stay out of your family way.

y/n " good morning grandmother" you soon went to the healer hut to see your grandmother as she was getting ready for the day.

mo'at " hello my granddaughter you are here early"

y/n " well it best if I stay out of toruk makto way along with neytiri as well" mo'at was the only few people who cared for the child, and over time grow dislike towards Jake and neytiri for their treatment of their daughter.

mo'at " yes it seems like goes well for you when you keep out of their way along with majority of the clan"

y/n " well I do stay around to make sure everyone is safe I even watch over tuk and younger kids when they play, far from their mothers watch but make sure not to get caught"

mo'at " you are might warrior my child and pure of heart as well"

y/n " well I only have a few more years of being a teen until I'm an adult and toruk makto will tell me to leave or kick me out"

mo'at " well you always have a place in my home my child"

y/n " thank you grandmother I might stay her a bit longer when I'm older then leave to seek out more of our world as eywa has been calling me"

mo'at " follow your heart my dear" you smile at your grandmother the happy mood had been changed, when the other healers had arrived young and old but none of them set towards the hut.

mo'at " don't stand there like fools come we have to get ready for the day"

y/n " it best if I take my leave grandmother my present make everyone uncomfortable"

mo'at " dear you can stay your sisters will be coming for thier lessons, and I will love you to join them"

y/n " I will like to honor your wish but that will lead to trouble for you grandmother, with our mighty leader I will see you later on" you bid your grandmother goodbye and soon left the hut, getting glares and hearing whispers but you didn't care you stopped care many years ago.

y/n " sisters good morning"

kiri "morning y/n"

tuk " big sister good morning I have missed you ... oh I mean good morning y/n" you sighed as tuk had been the only sibling to call you sister, but it seems like Jake and neytiri actions and words had finally made her start calling you sister.

tuk " are you here to help grandmother and learn with us"

tuk " that not fair or nice"

y/n " it okay little one I understand well I shouldn't hold you all up anymore, I pray to the great mother to watch over all three of you" the duo said nothing else as they soon walked away from you, but it seems like they felt bad about their behavior. You were walking around the village trying to get somewhere.

y/n " ......" you had realized you had forgotten something that home, and soon ran back to get it. You soon reached the home and went to your bed and grabbed it, the home smells like breakfast meaning the family had morning meal together. You had sighed it was normal for you to not have meals with your family at home.

y/n " time to get going" you had grabbed your armband and soon put it on before you walked out of your home, you soon made your way through the village once again.

navi man " there that girl again"

navi women " I still can't believe she toruk makto daughter she nothing like her parents or siblings, even kiri a better daughter then her"

navi man 2 " I have heard rumors that toruk makto has plans to send to live on her own"

navi women " well I heard him and neytiri were trying to find a boy to become her mate, they were given any man a good offer to be with her" you had gotten use to hearing all the hate and rumors made about you, over time when you were younger you tried you best to prove you were good enough but soon stopped over time. The feeling of not caring about other had started when you become 13 and stayed that way since then.

Jake " if we hunt on these grounds we will be able to bring back a good hunt" you soon came across Jake and his hunting group as he had your brothers and spider with him.

y/n " ........" one of the warriors had noticed you and soon whispered something to the group, as everyone soon looked at you.

Jake " y/n you are wake you were not up when we served morning meal, your mother works hard on these meals it rude to miss them"

y/n " I'm sorry sir but something came up that morning and I went to meet with grandmother"

Jake " sure whatever just stay out of trouble I don't need you causing anymore trouble"

y/n " yes sir"

lo'ak " hey sis well dad giving you the same lecture over and over again, when are you going to learn"

y/n " when are you going to stop being so hothead brother"

spider " haha she got you good bro"

neteyam " enough the people are watching stop picking on him y/n it rude"

y/n " what he started it"

neteyam " well you need to be the better person dad is stress enough he doesn't need more work about you, and have you been practicing you skills .... you know how dad and mom are"

y/n " I ....."

neytiri " yes have you been training or act like your child your younger sister has better skills then you"

neteyam " mom"

y/n " yes I have been practicing ma'am"

neytiri " not enough if you haven't pass the test like your brother"

y/n " I'm doing my best that all I can say"

Jake " enough y/n I and your mother have more important stuff to deal with verse your failing to caught up with the family .... just go and stay out of the way of everyone and everything" you didn't say anything else as you soon walked away. Your brother and spider said nothing else, even tsutey who was there said nothing as well.

norm " hey there kiddo off again"

y/n " yes same as usual"

max " had another fight with your dad again and mom"

y/n " yes it seems like I'm not enough for Jake sully and neytiri, always blaming me for stuff like some of the others and always judging me"

norm " he does care"

y/n " stopping lying we all know that false norm he doesn't care and he will never care" norm and max along with some other humans knew that was true and hate how you were treated, but they couldn't say and do that much unless they wish to start trouble with the clan.

max " you know one day you will do something amazing kid"

y/n " thank you max well I'm going off if you need Jake sully he about to leave with his hunting party along, with my brother and spider" you soon ran off getting far away from home tree and soon calling your ikran, she was not allowed to stay with the others because she looked different and was not wanted around.

y/n " come on girl lets go for a flight and to see what we will happen today" you soon took off on your ikran and started flying around the skies, feeling for free and happy. After some travel you soon reached a part the end of the forest and where the sea began. This was so a beautiful place.

y/n " ........" you were walking around the area exploring everything and having a bright smile on your face. Then you felt someone place their hands on your waist.

y/n " ahhh kawwney" you had turned around to see you friend kawwney standing there, he soon smirked at you. As he soon backed away from you and smiled.

kawwney " hello ma y/n I was waiting for your arrival"

y/n " well I'm help to me here it better then being at home right now" kawwney had become your friend many years ago when you both of you were small. He was not from the forest he was from reef clan the metkayaian, you had meet him when you were with your grandmother on trip and kawwney was with his mom. After that day the both of you had become the best of friends.

Kawwney " almsot there hold it like that ... okay now fire the spear" you soon fire the spear and soon hit the target as kawwney had cheered for you.

kawwney " good job you are doing a well job with using a spear and your breathing as well"

y/n " thank you"

kawwney “ what the matter”

y/n “ family problems once again” kawwney soon sighed he knew you didn’t have, a good relationship with your parents. He really didn't like your parents and clan for their treatment of you, and he really wished to do anything to make your life better.

Kawwney “ y/n you are perfect no matter what they have to say or do, they are blind fools for treating you like this”

Y/n “ thank you kawwney there are whispers going around that Jake will kick me out or true to marry to off not anyone who will take the offer”

kawwney “ I will take the offer or even he does kick you out if you leave come join my clan, out of all forest Navi we have seen we only likes a few … you make those names of people we like even my father likes you and wishes to have you stay with us”

y/n “ thank you kawwney you will make a great leader one day and bring pride to your clan and people”

kawweny “ thanks you and one day you will make a great tshiak and leader, as well maybe you can rule by my side as well”

kawwney “ here a gift my dear a necklace I made for you perfect for you, and it will symbolize our bond” you smile as kawwney as he place the necklace around your neck, kawwney soon pulled your closer to him not caring who saw them.

later at night

y/n " ......." you soon had arrived home after being gone all day with your friends having a fun time and practicing as well, you heard your family laughing and talking. Once she had stepped into the home everything had become silent as everyone looked at her.

Jake " it seems like you have decided to come home after all"

y/n " yes sir I was out doing some practice"

Jake " that seems like a bunch of lies young lady"

y/n " ........."

Jake " you know you will soon be an adult you will need to make, the right decision if you wish to have a place in the clan and family" you didn't say anything as you nodded your head.

neytiri " if you can't be a hunter then lets hope you can do something else for the clan and family, or maybe your father and brother can find you a good match to strengthen the family and clan" your siblings stay quite as they watched your parents speak to you.

Jake " y/n you can't stay act like a child for the rest of your life, soon you will have to grow up and become an adult and give up your childish for once and a while"

y/n " yes sir"

Jake " good now this conversation is over with I hope you will take I and your mother words to heart" you stayed silent you knew the day will come when your family will have to make the decisions, to allow you to stay in the family of to have you leave. You had taken some soon went to bed to stay out of your family happy moment together, you soon thought about the words Jake will say " sully stick together" and " that our family is a fortress". You soon scoffed at those words they were false words coming from a man that has failed to be father to his daughter. When the time will come you will make the decisions you want that will mean no longer being a sully, even if it mean parting some the life she had live for so many years but maybe it was time for some change in her life.

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dalliancekay · 3 months

Text

Crowley is not stupid, Aziraphale is not an idiot and other assorted thoughts

Or how nothing is black and white and my bullying home and religious trauma is a metaphor not a direct translation to what our immortals experience. And vice versa. -

I don't know what it's like to hang out on Earth since the beginning but I'm sure it is richer than we can imagine we could imagine.

Our two favourite, currently men shaped beings, are captured for our storytelling enjoyment when their time on the Green Planet is about to be cut off.

One has been thrown out from their family home ages ago, we are not sure for what misdemeanour exactly, and is now working for a dumpy place where they don't mind inflicting pain if you misbehave nor do they care whether a trial is fair. So, a mafia, basically. And our hero is tasked with collecting new additions to the unhappy family on top of that. He doesn't much care for it and seems to do the bare minimum only.

The other has been sent to the young planet to guard the indigenous humans and told something vague about an Ineffable Plan that will all work out when there's a War in a few thousand years, which 'our, the Good, side' will win and everyone will be happy. Just tell the humans to behave and if they don't kick up a fuss, we will welcome them Here.

And Here is a vast, empty place, well lit, with busy, lonely bees working and filing, and checking, making sure rules are in place and are followed as written and everything is ticking over; the higher ranks' punishments rare but swift. Everyone has learnt a lesson when half of them were unceremoniously fired when someone said some nasty things about the CEO. So things might not be perfect but at least if you stick to your tasks you will be left alone.

So, we meet demon Crowley, whose family threw him out as mentioned above and his job sucks and he hates it but it's not hard and his placement is rather a nice place so he does his best to not to lose the position. Sometimes he wonders what is the point of it all and that's when he runs into his adorable archenemy, the angel Aziraphale.

Aziraphale was sent to Earth and given a job, one that doesn't seem to quite work out (or does it?) as he follows his heart instead of the rules almost immediately but surprisingly is not punished for it by the CEO. So he spends his time helping the natives, following orders he receives as best as he can and when he runs into his archenemy the demon, he feels a certain strange tingle and flutter in his heart at the sight of the rulebreaker.

They have done a fair job of it for 6 millennia. They avoid getting fired and even manage to take on each other's tasks to lighten up the load and the (pointlessly) random business trips (does anyone Up or Down there ever heard of geography?)

When we meet our heroes in present day-ish, they've been told the End of the World sequence has been triggered and life as they know it is about to end.

How do they feel about this? Well. Our demon is appalled. He knew this was coming. But not really. It's just something to sort of work towards right? After all, the Earth has been developing rather nicely. The alcohol got better, the food for his Angel, the music got interesting, the clothes tighter... He's having a good time. Yes, he pushes his luck sometimes. Sleeps too long, gives in and saves someone instead of ruining them. He gets into all kinds of tangles to spend time with his crush. He is rash but he's not stupid. He knows what's at stake. But he's angry. And sometimes that's hard to contain. He does go too fast. But Aziraphale is always there to catch him. And if he can't, he waits and worries and is there when Crowley returns.

So about the angel? He knows he should dislike the demon. He knows he should follow his directives. He knows he should not meet or talk to Crowley. And what does he do? Gets himself arrested in his fanciest silks so they can have crepes when the world and humanity is bringing them down with their relentless hate towards each other. He puts on a magical performance when the demon fails to deliver some contraband liquor in the midst of the Blitz bombing.

And, now. Here's the funny bit. Angel has gotten himself a part time job in the past few centuries. He's had a few before, but not quite like this. He has a place he loves now. A safe, cluttered place where a demon is welcome. It's not much like his original home. You could say... it's rather quite the opposite of it. In any case, he never really got on with his managers but tbf he likes his job. It makes the humans happy and he loves the humans and loves making them happy.

He also does not want the world to end. But his fam has always told him that once this bit is over, an even better one will come along. What that bit is was never quite explained but then, asking questions was always frowned upon and rather vehemently so. He's noticed this from the get go... unlike a red headed angel he once knew...

What is my point?

That neither Crowley or Aziraphale are wrong. Or right. Doing the correct thing. Or not. Me. You. We come from broken families, we have been friends and lovers with bad people, we have escaped religions, cults, home countries. Lies. Rules. Hate. We have fought for our love to be recognised as love.

Crowley and Aziraphale live in a world where Heaven and Hell is real. Where Satan rules over a smelly place with mould on the walls and God is engrossed in her sci fi novels and seems to have forgotten about Her Earth project.

You can't call Aziraphale stupid for believing in God. She exists. Whether She has a plan is open to debate, sure. She seems to have claimed so at some point, but then, we all change don't we. Maybe She changed Her mind and forgot to tell the upper management. Maybe She thought She didn't need to spell out all the details to them so they kill Job's kids. Maybe She was vague on purpose much in the style of King Henry II and Thomas Beckett.. Anyway. Back to Aziraphale, our angel on Earth. He is kind, has hope, wants to believe after thousands, millions of years. And this is not stupid. Aziraphale does and is brave, courageous things. And he's slowly learning to trust himself more too. To know the difference. It started with the sword and his overthinking on the giving away of it. He made a decision to protect Job's children. Risked Falling for it. Trusted the demon over his bosses. Not because Heaven is WRONG. Yes, they are. But the thing is they don't care. And Aziraphale does. He cares about humanity. And he cares about Crowley.

Nobody noticed (or did they) how our two field agents fell in love (neither did they tbf) and how fiercely they guard the little secret they share. The smiles and the glances, the small flowers of hope that things can change one day.

And they did change. Plan A, War and Destruction, did not work out. The youngster they sent from Below decided he likes the new place and refused to ruin it. They both learned things. They are still learning. The demon how to trust again. The angel how to question things.

So what's next? The place Above is going to send their trusted agent. He followed the rules last time seamlessly. It did not quite work out but no problem, they'll send Him out again. With a rather more final arrangement.

In the meantime, the disgraced and rather troubling Earth agents have been lying low. Unsure of their places and overall safety, they went on with their lives as best as they could until the angel happened to help his former boss run away with his paramour from the other side and is visited by the Big Boss.

Big Boss wastes no time and suggests to our angel he should come back Upstairs and take the place of his disgraced superior. To use his skills. To be better looked after I suppose. New opportunities. To be close to the big upcoming decisions or - under a close watchful eye.

Aziraphale, not surprisingly, refuses. He does not want to put any of his 'skills' to any good causes but his own. But then. THEN. He is not so subtly made aware that his dangerous liaisons with the other side have been noted and his help in the latest Complication might not go unpunished if he's not careful.

And this job offer suddenly seems FAR more sinister than it did 15 minutes ago. Especially when it is handed over with a coffee (that he does not much like) from a place called Give Me Coffee Or Give me Death.

Our angel goes home to cautiously tell his demon about the trouble they are in and his world comes crashing down around him.

This post turned out to be completely different to what I originally wanted to write. Is there a point? You decide.

Aziraphale's decision makes complete sense, he loves the Earth, his home and Crowley over and above everything else. And he WILL fight for their safety. AND the humans in the process if he can.

This is my very first Tumblr post. Way to go me etc. Please be kind.

#good omens #aziraphale #crowley #aziracrow #neil gaiman #season 2 #ineffable husbands #ineffable divorce #armageddon #shower thoughts #kaypost

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night-wilf · 1 year

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Writing prompt 06:

A few of the bat kids have discovered a favourite private bar that doesn't care for their names or ages, just that they pay for everything. They don't even try to hide their identities or masked name as no one cares. Given one of the regulars is a human sized plant thing that Ivy likes to kick around with, they shouldn't be surprised.

The name of that bar? Phantom's room.

Edit: Phantom's room: the halfway point between dimensions (some really good ideas in the comments!)

The rules are fairly simple to follow:

- Just pay for whatever you get or things will be personal

- Do not bother anyone

- Do not be overly loud

- Pets are permitted and must be cleaned up after, some warning is appreciated

- If injured, don't bleed all over the floor

- Do not ask for alcohol if under 18

- Do not approach alternate/different timeline versions of yourself as they can't see you

- Parking is free unless you are intoxicated trying to go home alone

- State allergies when ordering and something will be made

- No fighting

- Do not ask questions

Jason seems to like the tall ginger bar tender who enjoys his antics and they share scar stories to pass the time. Her dark haired partner sometimes breaks the magic for fun.

Damian likes the large security guy always on duty, nice guy with a rough past and it's nice to talk out stuff with someone willing to listen. Has he become a minor father role to him? Maybe. Does he help with his homework? Yes.

Tim likes to play chess with the blue skinned guy who sits in the corner reading, he's a good talker when not more confusing like the riddler.

Everyone has their favourite and usually visit after a patrol for some water and food before going home. If they come in injured a mysterious gel is slathered over it and they are healed 10 minutes later. Asking to take a sample home is answered with a firm no, as the stuff to can become addicting to humans.

Fair enough.

Though there is nothing online and the "owner"/cook is a boy who died at 14 and somehow still kicking around town. Some family who worked for the criminals of Gotham and got their son killed when he turned on a device, Jason's love interest seems to be the same situation.

Despite that, it takes them a while to tell Bruce as they don't want him ruining it for him. Alfred coming along one day after overhead a conversation between Dick and Jason. Only to find his favourite brand of whiskey already poured for him and an old friend who died long ago waiting to chat with him over a bottle.

He was... gone for some time with that one.

#dc/dp #dc #dpxdc #dc x dp #dp #danny phantom #danny fenton #reformed dark dan #dark danny #dani fenton #dan phantom #jazz fenton #anger management ship #fan fic writing #writing #writing prompt #prompt #night-wilf prompts

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topguncortez · 2 months

Note

“i’m worried that if we go there, and things don't work out... things might never be the same.” with rooster! please and thank you! :)

prompts list:) thank you for the request!

All of Rooster’s life he was told that everyone gets one “great love” in their life. His mother’s great love was obviously his father and the one reason why she never remarried. Rooster could remember when he was about 13 or 14, asking his mother why she never remarried. It had been over 10 years since his father’s passing and Carole had never so much as looked at a male the way she did Goose.

“Because it wouldn’t be fair,” Carole told her son, a sad smile on her face, “It wouldn’t be fair to marry a man knowing I couldn’t love him the way I love your father. He was my great love… and I’ll never find another one like that.”

Bradley wondered if towards the end of her life, when she was alone in the house for those last couple of years when he was off at school, if maybe, just maybe she wished she had someone there. He asked her again, on one of the last good days she had, if she wished she had found someone to spend her life with.

Carole again, gave him a sad smile, “It wouldn’t be fair. There’s only one person I’ve been praying about seeing again.”

Bradley hadn’t realized it at the time, but the older he got, the more he envied what his parents had. “A Great Love” that was as if it came straight from a romance novel. “A Great Love” that held steady for years, despite his father being deceased for more than half of it. “A Great Love” that seemed to come so easy to them but for Bradley, was nearly impossible.

Except, it wasn’t impossible.

No, Bradley did have a “Great Love”, in the form of the neighbor girl who lived in the blue house next door. The girl who used to make mudpies with in the backyard. The girl who teased him relentlessly when he got braces only to end up with wires on her own teeth a couple of weeks later. The girl who is his best friend… and is currently crying on his couch over her now ex-boyfriend.

“A-And he was saying stuff and I-“ You sucked in a deep breath, trying to will the tears to stop falling down your cheeks.

"I'm sorry, Ducky," Rooster said, using the age-old nickname, even though he wasn't in the slightest sorry. Sure, he felt bad that you got your heartbroken, but he was celebrating the fact that Douchebag Dan was finally out of your life, "You deserve better."

"I thought he was the one!" You sobbed, "He had me sending him ring options!"

And suddenly Bradley hated Douchebag Dan even more than he did fifteen minutes ago when you showed up at his doorstep.

"Hey," Bradley said shifting closer to you, his thigh touching yours, "You know what this means though, right," You looked up at him with big sad eyes and the most adorable wobble of your bottom lip, "Your great love is still out there."

You rolled your eyes, "I'm starting to think that's a hock of shit," You flopped back on the couch defeated, "I've dated three guys in my lifetime all for over two years and none of them have put a ring on my finger," You held up your hand, wiggling your ring finger, "It's just not going to happen. I don't have a great love."

"Sure you do."

"Where!?" You looked over at Bradley, "Where is mine?"

"Maybe, you're looking too hard for it. Maybe they're closer than you think," Bradley simply shrugged, reaching for his beer bottle on the coffee table.

"Yeah?" You quipped, "What about you? Have you met your 'great love'."

Bradley sucked in a breath, knowing he couldn't lie to you about this or hell, about anything, "Yeah," He admitted, "But she doesn't feel the same."

You felt a pang in your heart, causing you to sit up, pulling your legs underneath you, "Does she know?"

Bradley shrugged, "I think so. I mean, I-I've known her forever."

"Oh," You were trying to rack your brain of the potential girls that Bradley had his heart set on, "Do I know her?"

"Mhm," Bradley pursed his lips, taking another sip of his beer for he stupidly gave himself and his stupid crush away. A stupid crush that could mean the end of the longest, greatest friendship he has ever had. You were the one thing from his childhood that had managed to stick around. You were there when his mother died, when his dreams of following his father's footsteps came crashing down, when he got his acceptance letter to UVA, when he graduated flight school and got his wings, when he graduated from TopGun.

All the major memories that Bradley had, you were always right there. He couldn't let a stupid crush end that. He couldn't let his heart and his feelings complicate things. He couldn't-

"It's Phoenix, isn't it?"

Bradley spat his beer out of his mouth, coating the coffee table in sticky alcohol. Your eyes widened as he coughed and wiped the beer from his lips.

"What?" He choked out.

"Your great love," You muttered, "Is it Phoenix?"

"Hell no," Bradley shook his head, "That-that's crazy."

"Not really, she's pretty and you're around her all the-"

"It's you," Bradley cut you off.

You felt your heart stop in your chest as you stared at your best friend, "W-What?"

He sighed, hanging his head in shame, "It's you, Y/N. It has always been you. You are my "great love"."

"Bradley, I-"

Bradley shook his head, "I didn't mean to do this. Not when you're upset over Douchebag Dan, but. . .fuck, I can't take it anymore," He stood up from his spot on the couch, beginning to pace, "Watching you go with guys who have no idea what it means for you to look at them like they hung the fucking stars. To have you love them and kiss them and be with them day after fucking day. I love you, Y/N. I have been in love with you."

Fresh tears were in your eyes as you looked at the man who is your best friend, "Why didn't you tell me?" Your voice was barely above a whisper.

"Because I’m worried that if we go there, and things don't work out... things might never be the same," Bradley's big brown eyes shone with unshed tears, "And you're all I have left. I can't lose you."

"You won't lose me," You stood up from your spot on the couch, walking over to him, "Cause I love you too," You grabbed his face in your hands and placed a kiss on his lips.

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mull3ts · 1 year

Text

[ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐄 ]

⚠︎ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 | Smut (18+), Dilf! Aged Up! Stepfather! Johnny, Daddy Kink, Infidelity, Praise Kink, Size Kink, Fear play (?)

Johnny stared at her. Johnny stared at you. He’s not supposed to stare at you. At least, not in the way he is right now.

He wonders to himself, here of all places, what it’d be like to see you underneath him. Would you stare at him the way he does at you? Would you tremble out of fear? Blush? Smile?

Johnny was dying to know.

He wonders if your pretty lips would beg like he imagined hundreds of times before this moment.

You looked up at him with glassy eyes, sniffling back tears. “Daddy,” you whined. “Please,”

Your eyes were pleading at Johnny.

Yet he could only smile at you. His hands destines to leave bruises on your thighs as he held them apart.

“Now, honey,” he began. “You’re gonna lie here all pretty for me, and you’re gonna take everything Daddy’s gonna give you.”

He look in his eyes were devilish as he burned into yours. It felt like he could see right through you, everything you’ve ever seen it’s as if he’s seen.

You’ve never felt so transparent.

“And when m’all done with your pretty pussy, when it’s all stretched wide because of my cock, you’re gonna look me in my eyes and put on your pretty smile and say…”

He was expecting an answer. His question wasn’t rhetorical.

“What are you gonna tell me, baby?” he taunted.

Johnny has all the patience in the world it seemed. That’s what slightly scared you.

You sniffled again. “T-Thank you,”

“Thank you, what?”

A small slap hit your clit.

“Thank you, Daddy.”

“Awe, that’s my good fuckin’ girl” he beamed.

And so Johnny stared, getting lost in your eyes. It wasn’t hard to get lost in your eyes.

But he shouldn’t, especially not now.

Not at his own wedding to your mother. The one you had to come home from college from. The one that he instantly knew was a mistake when he first laid his eyes on you.

So he had to swallow his pride. Put on a smile. And internalize that he was going to do something very bad tonight.

But right now he was going to shove his feelings aside and pretend no one ever saw him looking at you—pretend he never saw you looking at him. Maybe even pretend he didn’t make out with you last week.

So he mustered all his energy and said, “I do.”

The wedding was mediocre.

From what Johnny could tell, your mother was having the time of her life and he could only keep up by half-heartedly laughing along with her. While you on the other hand, didn’t seem too elated at this marriage.

And to be fair, you weren’t too elated just as Johnny assumed.

In your defense—who would be happy watching their mother marry the most attractive man they’d ever laid their eyes on? (And the most attractive man they’d ever shamelessly flirted with a few days ago).

So you sat there, politely speaking to those who approached you (including your own mother), until after you watched your mother dance with Mr. Suh.

You approached him timidly—he was quite the large man who oozed with a godly amount of confidence. But the moment his eyes met yours for the second time today, you could instantly tell—this man did not want to be here.

Regret was all over his face, frankly.

“Is everything alright, honey?”

Your knees felt like they lost power when he called you that. To make it all worse he reaches out for your hand.

“Mhm,” you hummed, “m’just gonna g-go back home, m’not feeling too good.”

He blinked twice, a small smirk making its way to his face. He leaned closer to you, his lips now near you ear.

“I take it you’re not enjoying this,” he whispered. A knowing look on his face.

Your eyes were full of surprise. Was it that obvious?

And as if he read your mind, “I’m not either.”

And before you could ask any questions, “M’gonna figure out how to leave and maybe you and me could have some bonding time.”

He raised his eyebrows at you when he pulled away, the corner of his mouth lifted up in a smug way.

Johnny waited precisely ten minutes to tell your mother that he had to go home and check on you like the good step-father he is. And because that simply warmed your mother’s heart, he was allowed to go.

There was a jingling of keys and when you turned your head towards the door—there he was: Mr. Suh.

He looked at you with a devilish intent in his eyes. You really wanted to look away out of pure fear maybe, but something was just yelling at you to keep looking at him. As if he was irking you, daring you to keep looking at him.

In his mind, however, nothing but knowledge and power encapsulated him. He knew for a fact what he was going to do to you tonight. In his mind, there was no way out for you or for him. Johnny considered this to be quite the inevitable thing.

He walked achingly slow to where you stood at the stairs, as if making noise would disturb whatever tension was in the room. He came to a stop just a few inches in front of you. The corner of his mouth turned up a bit at the small hum you made. “M'gonna be real honest with you, m'kay, honey?”

You nodded, conscious of your voice all of a sudden.

“I made a mistake today, a very, very, very big mistake. I know you know I did, right?”

You nodded again.

“I don't like making mistakes. So,” he grinned slightly, his hand on your waist, guiding you upstairs. “You're gonna let me know if I can redeem myself and not make another mistake.”

It surprised you a little that you were now sitting on his bed and he was bent down looking at you in anticipation.

“What?” was the only thing you could let out.

“Do you wanna let me fuck you silly, honey?” he said in the most gentle way one could imagine. So much so, that you only nodded instead of screaming a “yes” right here, right now. It surprised you.

“I need to hear you say it.”

“Yes.” his hands were already removing your clothes. “Please.”

He already removed inch of your clothing, except your panties, when you simply felt the urge to kindly beg for him.

“P-please, Daddy,” you wailed “I really, really want you to fuck me.”

Pulling your panties past your ankle, Mr. Suh looked down at you half in shock, half in amusement. “What'dya say, honey?”

Mr. Suh had a shit-eating grin on his face, never breaking eye contact with you as he held your legs apart. He easily slid two of his fingers inside you.

“Repeat what you said to me, honey.”

You let you a shaky breath. Mr. Suh's fingers felt too good to the point where you could barely think, focusing on the stretch his digits gave you.

“Please, Daddy,” you bit your lip to stop a whimper “I- I really, really need you t-to...to fuck me! Aweee, please, Daddy!”

The end of your sentence was practically cut off by the loud whimper you let out. He was widening his fingers, stretching you out even farther than you already were.

Your hand reached to grasp his wrist, you were honestly about to cry if you didn't get his cock.

“Please, Daddy” tears threatened to fall, your nails were digging into the flesh of his wrist as it worked in and out of your cunt. “Please, need you to f-fuck me, now” you whined pathetically, loosing any sense of shame.

He stared at your whimpering self for mere seconds. However, the seconds felt like hours to you.

His fingers swiftly pulled out of you and he placed them in his mouth, tasting you while his other hand undid his dress-pants and shirt.

You could only stare up at that man in sheer awe. That was, until your eyes roamed down to where his cock was rubbing up and down your entrance. Your eyes could only widen in fear and curiosity. “Is that gonna fit inside me?” you questioned, thinking out loud.

Mr. Suh let out a brief chuckle before shoving his dick inside you, making the both of you whine at the action. Johnny was breathing heavily when he bottomed out. “Course' it is, hon'”

He began slowly moving in and out “Had to just make it fit inside you, pretty girl.”

Leaning down to press his lips against your throat, he left hickey after hickey after hickey. He smiled against your skin and continued to pick up his pace, admiring the way your back arched off his bed.

“You're doin' such a good job for me, little lady.” he groaned right in your ear, easily making your walls clench around him. “Oh? You like that honey? You like it when your Daddy tells you how good you're bein' for him? You like it when Daddy tells you how you take his cock like a fuckin' pro?”

“Fuck!” you whined out, nearly unable to answer him.

His hands roamed your body, his hand that didn't rest on your waist reached down you your clit, rubbing circles into the skin.

In the back of your mind you secretly hoped he didn't quite notice how hard you were clenching around him.

Mr. Suh's grip on your waist tightened as he savored the sounds you made as he pounded into you.

“Tell Daddy what you want, baby, y'know Daddy can fuckin' feel your cunt squeezing me.”

Somehow his shit-eating grin could almost be heard through his voice.

“W-wanna cum!” you whined, “Wanna cum so bad, Daddy.”

“Good fuckin' girl,” he groaned in appreciation. “M'gonna give my pretty baby want she wants.”

He quickened his thrusts, moving deeper into your cunt as he rubbed your clit faster. He could feel you tighten even more around him. One more thrust, and he came inside you. Momentarily feeling like he lost his mind as his cum poured into your fluttering hole. The room was filled with your screaming, chanting “Daddy” as if your life depended on it while you gripped his bed sheets while you came.

When Johnny composed himself, he nearly unwillingly pulled out of your soppy hole, watching in awe as his cum mixed with yours oozed out and onto his sheets.

Before you knew it, his mouth was immediately on your cunt, lapping up your mixed juices, paying great attention to your sensitive bud until you fell over the edge all over again, panting “Daddy” religiously.

He stayed between your legs for a while, waiting with all the patience in the world until you came down from your high. Planting soft kisses to the inside of your thighs, then moving beside you to pull you into his embrace.

You hummed euphorically, “You should apologize.”

Mr. Suh was taken aback, “Whatever for, baby?”

“For making a mistake,” you shifted a little to face him. “By marrying my mother.”

He smiled lazily at you, “It could be a mistake or a blessing in disguise, honey.” he grinned widely, closing his eyes, knowing the weight of his words.

“If you sleep here, won't my mother find you by morning?” you left off the part, “and get all mad because you “forgot” to come back and then misses the flight to your honeymoon?”

“Nope.” he said, as a matter-of-fact.

“But-”

He quickly cut you off, kissing your cheek. “I have my ways, sweetheart.”

TAGLiST | @shescharlie @electric-hearts @hyuckzlipz @neovy1 @chonlo @shuasxn @lenaluvs @haven-cove @dojoonsgf

#nct smut #nct dilf #johnny smut #nct johnny smut #johnny seo smut #johnny suh smut #nct 127 smut

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is-the-snake-video-cute · 8 months

Note

Hi! Just wanna say real quick before i get to the point that i really love ur blog! Its been REALLY COOL to be able to scroll through and learn so much! Especially because you post a fair amount about western hognoses and garter snakes, wich are both some of my absolute favorites!

Uh, to the actial point of this ask though, i have a desision i need to make, and i know you cant/shouldnt make it for me, but i would really apreciate some advice if you can offer any.

See, my mum, brother, and I just bred our garter snakes for the first time, and while most of the babies were healthy, one of them has quite a few kinks in her spine. At first we only saw a couple, but as she got bigger we noticed more - at this point i think its about eleven kinks.

Even still though, she eats great, she does struggle to move around a bit but ive never seen her get somewhere she couldnt get out of, she's one of the bigger members of her clutter, she moves perhaps slightly less than the others and doesnt climb often if ever, but she does move around the tank throughout the day and at least occasionally climbs into the shallow water dish. Also, we know for a fact that she is passing food, as we put her in a seperate enclosure for about a week, and she definetly didnt seem to have any trouble with bowel movements.

Tbh i guess im not really asking for help to make a choice - honestly i probably made it a couple months ago - so much as your - an outsider's - opinion as to wether it was a good one, and wether or not we should stick to it.

Also uuhhhh hes a picture of her (my lil brother named her Ruby)

Thank you!

She's very cute, and from this picture, her body condition looks very good.

When it comes to snakes with spinal kinks, especially in cases like this where it looks like she's got a lot of relatively mild ones, the biggest thing is making consistent and honest quality of life checks. I've met snakes who look just like her who've lived long and happy lives; I've met snakes like her who started having a lot of pain a couple years in. As long as she's eating, passing waste, and can get around without pain, her quality of life is good.

If I were you, I'd just keep a close eye on her and keep a journal of her QoL. Be on the lookout for any signs of pain, like not wanting to move or holding herself funny. Sometimes kinks get better or worse with age - with snakes like her, I always say to just live in the now and be happy with the time you get together right now.

#not a rating #garter snakes #snake health #snakes with disabilities

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lloydfrontera · 5 months

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EXCUSE ME SIR WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT

this is literally not true what the hell is lee hyumnin doing

this whole conversation was completely out of character for both of them. in the novel og lloyd is way more crass and rude the entire time, he doesn't even ask about julian himself and he never expresses any regret or apologizes for anything he did out loud.

and he absolutely hates javier. i cannot emphasize this enough, it is never even hinted at that og lloyd ever cared the slightest about javier. nevermind that he wanted to be his friend or felt sorry about breaking his sword and harassing him as kids.

"Fine. Let's hurry. I never liked that jerk anyway. I don't want to bump into him"

"You don't like him?"

"No." Ghost Frontera nodded at Lloyd's question. And in the most obvious tone, Ghost Frontera retorted, "It's not fair for a human to look like that. I hate him. I feel like life is cheating me whenever I see him, and it pisses me off. I've been in a bad mood ever since my father put that bastard on my side to guard me."

does this sound like a man who just "wanted to become friends with him"??

this is history revisionism and i won't stand for it!!/j

and like. does this really look like a kid who just wants to be friends

like. does it.

again javier is six years old here. he saw his parents die in front of him a year ago and then spent an entire winter on the streets fending for himself and is just now finally settling into a new place that was supposed to be safe for him

he looked like this

look at him. he's a baby.

they're not even the same age!! og lloyd is five years older!! there was never a point in their relationship where og lloyd wasn't just a bigger and older kid harassing a child five years his junior!!

and he didn't feel sorry about it. at least not enough to make amends or even apologize.

and the problem with making og lloyd more sympathetic is that it undercuts just how much he'd fucked up. it makes it look like it was just a misunderstanding and that everyone should've just tried a little bit harder to understand him when no!!! they did try they did love him he just didn't care about it!!

and it's especially egregious when the webcomic seems hellbent in making lloyd look like a total dickhead at every moment possible!

making him kick og lloyd into the reincarnation gate??? telling him he sounded pathetic and didn't want to hear him for another second????why are you making your protagonist so fucking unlikable??? what's the fucking purpose of that???? how come the character that acts like a total asshole in the novel gets to be sympathetic in the adaptation but not your fucking main protagonist??????

that's the main issue actually! making og lloyd more sympathetic always seems to be at the cost of making everyone else look worse which fucking sucks!! because he's not meant to be like that!!! that's not the point of his character!!!

not to mention that they completely rewrote og lloyd's wish to not be born as a human in his next life??? like??? at this point you're just. making shit up. not even trying to follow the original source.

this episode was just. bad. nothing i can really rescue about it it's straight up just a bad adaptation

i hate it here lmao

#i talk a lot <3 #tged #the greatest estate developer #ep 119 #ch 244 #og lloyd frontera #lloyd frontera #javier asrahan #how. can someone fuck up this bad. do they really just not care about the story at all. is that it.

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maneatrrz · 1 year

Text

‧₊˚✩ 01 ; girls like girls / k. sully

♡ 𓂃 ꒰ girls like girls! ꒱˚.༄ ೃ kiri sully x fem!reader. 901 words. one of two. ⌒(≧▽° )

𓆩♡𓆪 synopsis: kiri sully was certain she wouldn’t ever exist to you-at least, not in the way that she wanted to.

content: na'vi!reader, metkayina!reader, emo teenage angst!kiri, reluctant babysitter!kiri, kiri turning into shakespeare. tuk being the sweet little demon baby she was meant to be. she is my child and i love her so dearly. i don't know, this is pretty short for the first part? but i wanted to get this out for the additional notes and i was just having writer's block with it. sorry!

ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ additional notes: i have posted this in the midst of aging drama-the actor who portrays kiri, sigourney weaver, is not a minor. and according to john landau, james cameron's literal production partner, the na'vi have a longer lifespan than humans: 160-180 years, as oppose to the average 80, and they are older than the "equivalent-looking human". as in: na'vi years and human years are not the same. the na'vi reach their adulthood in the time that is equal to 15-17 human years. after that, their aging stagnates. which means if lo'ak and kiri have been alive for fourteen human years, and neteyam has been for fifteen-lo'ak and kiri are the human equivalent of seventeen, and neteyam is eighteen. idk what to tell you girlies. these are 8-foot tall, motion-rigged blue space aliens. enough. i turned eighteen like two months ago and watching you guys made my head hurt. let's put this energy towards real-life child predators, and women & men pushing thirty simping for blatanly established human minor characters! anyways, hope you enjoy this first part of the fic. thank you lovelies.

୨✩୧ ; fic under the cut!

there was no reason for kiri sully to feel such ardor towards you. absolutely none. yet, she couldn’t help but be entranced by the way you moved through the waves.

you were just gliding through cerulean waters with lo’ak, neteyam, tsireya, ao’nung, and roxto. jake had introduced you all to the human custom of ‘marco polo’ when you were young, and it seemed you had never grown out of it. kiri had been thrown out of the game, looking over tuk’tirey for her father while she made a sandcastle. tuk was especially displeased with this, as she thought she could beat you all flawlessly in marco polo. but alas, she was not allowed to wade out that far.

watching your every move from afar, kiri surmised that you were not very good at this game. every single person who was marco before had gotten you immediately, no matter how far away you started. probably because you would start splashing and kicking every time they got close, through a fit of feverish giggles. especially when lo’ak was marco-he’d ignore everyone else just to get to you. then, it became the coquettish game of ‘how fast can [name] swim to escape impending doom?’

“this sucks,” she caviled and clutched a stick limply, etching your name in the warm, manila sand.

“you would feel better if you built a sandcastle,” tuk hummed with an expectant lilt, looking at kiri.

“i would feel better if i was lo’ak.”

“would you really? he kinda smells.”

“true,” kiri tilted her head with a nod, scribbling out your name. “[name] doesn’t seem to care, though.”

“oh, blegh,” tuk’tirey stuck her tongue out, swatting at kiri. “stop that.”

“jeez, jeez-” kiri raised her hands in defense of tuk’s minacious and staunch (endearing and incredibly light) pummels. “tuk, i’m not even doing anything!”

“you’re doing that thing that daddy does when mommy looks at tonowari for more than like, two seconds. you’re being all,” tuk did a sashay back to her sandcastle before turning around and putting her hands on her hips, “j-e-l-u-s. jealous.”

“hello? it’s j-e-a-l-o-u-s. you literally cannot spell.”

“i’m literally seven and i’m trying my best.”

“fair enough. but i’m not jealo-” she was cut off by tuk ‘kikiki’-ing at her with an outstretched finger. “you know what? fine. maybe i am a little bit jealous. but it’s not like it matters, anyways.”

kiri threw her head back, falling into the sand. she stared up at the calm azure heavens adorned with ivory, velvet clouds. the image paired perfectly with what kiri called the polyphonic melody of unrequited love: her pining heartbeat reverberating through her spine, your distant, cherubic laughter, and the sound of the waves skimming across the shore, before melting back slowly into the sea. as far as kiri was aware, you only knew her as one of two of neteyam’s (your neighbor) siblings your age. not the goofy, obnoxious younger brother with unkempt braids and winsome dimples, but the brooding basketcase of a sister. the looming, deviant character who thought she could feel the heartbeat of the empyrean, the atlantis, and the motherlands. she was certain that to you, she faded miserably in comparison to the awkwardly-charming foreigner and prodigal eldest son that newly inhabited awa’atlu. she could tell from the way you hung on every honey-coated word that was uttered from neteyam’s lips-big, sparkly doe eyes complete with dilated pupils completely enraptured by him. kiri could tell from the way those roseate, glacé lips of yours curved into an intoxicating smile that she simply couldn’t get enough of, everytime lo’ak unleashed his ‘comedic brilliance’. she was certain she wouldn’t ever exist to you-at least, not in the way that she wanted to. “yeah, this seriously sucks.”

“why don’t you just ask if she likes you?” a query from tuk that made kiri jolt up, turning her head to tuk’tirey in bewilderment.

“absolutely flabbergasting. that you just told me, to do that.”

“why? whenever i have a question, i ask it.”

“but this is different, tuk,” kiri exhaled deeply, bringing her knees to her chest. she ran her hands through her hair, before scratching the top of her head. “she’s a girl, and i’m not a boy.”

“so? i don’t see a problem,” tuk contorted her face in confusion, before shrugging and kicking her meticulously crafted sand fortress-she was getting bored. she sat down crisscrossed in front of kiri, tapping her nose. “girls like girls, like boys do. nothing new.”

tuk’s idea was not entirely inane as kiri’s riposte made it out to be. it was getting harder to mask her tempestuous affinity for you, with each passing moment. you merely being around her made her heart beat at such a frenetic pace in her sternum. your scent permeated her senses, suffusing her cheeks a feverish and tender sanguine-you smelled as saccharine as the candied simpers you gave her, with light floral notes and a hint of ocean’s brine. and your visage-oh, your countenance as a whole-remained steadfast as the most ravishingly beauteous thing she had ever seen. you were like a painting to her: every curve and every color was painted by eywa’s pedantic hand.

“so if i were to…” kiri closed her eyes with a sharp, delayed sigh, shaking her head. “...confess, when would i? or-how would i?”

tuk’s mouth curved into a smile laced with playful, youthful malign.

kiri was going to have her hands full, wasn’t she?

#⋆ ࣪. ᓚᘏᗢ . . . gia’s fics!#༚.° ☆ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა . . . avatar!#༚.° ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡ . . . pure heart!#avatar x reader #avatar x you #avatar #avatar the way of water #avatar fanfiction #avatar kiri #kiri sully #kiri te suli kìreysì'ite #kiri x reader #kiri x y/n #kiri x you #kiri sully x reader #kiri sully x you #kiri sully x y/n

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pochipop · 2 years

Text

＃GENSHIN IMPACT !! ♡ — BLOOM WITH YOU (TIGHNARI X READER).

#. synopsis! — the three times tighnari was there to look out for you, and the one time you’re tasked with returning the favor(s) .

#. characters! —tighnari .

#. warnings! — nongraphic depictions of wounds .

#. word count! — 5.1k .

#. alt accounts! — @ddollipop (nsfw) @yyolkchi (reblog/spam) .

#. others! — navigation & masterlist .

First impressions die hard.

You met Tighnari a long while ago, back when he was less of a renowned researcher, and more of an awkward young boy who loved to roam the forests in search of nothing in particular and hadn’t quite grown into his ears yet. He was smaller, as were you, and those big, sprouting ears atop his head looked fake if you stared at them for too long. Back then, you’d almost been convinced he was wearing a little costume. . . Until you saw them twitch for the first time, and then all such thoughts were thrown out the window.

Still, they were almost comical. When he, in all his youthful inelegance, all but tumbled over himself to check on your well being after you’d managed to land yourself in a precariously sticky situation, they shivered with worry (even for a stranger.) —A stranger who would become his “assistant” in the future— but a stranger nonetheless.

That was the first time you met Tighnari. Your right foot had been swallowed up by a sopping hole in the earth, which sent you falling directly onto your butt. At your age, panic set it fairly quickly, and you were less hurt by the odd way your ankle had bent, and more startled by the suddenness of it all. Whatever it was inside that hole had you in a deadlock, and the more you struggled, the less it seemed to want to let you go. But you were young and scared, and picking up on the subtle patterns wasn’t exactly going to be your forte in a moment like that. Instead, you found yourself tugging on your own leg, and when that didn’t work, you anchored yourself with your arms and your one viable foot, attempting to use the leverage to pull the other from the hole.

Needless to say, —it didn’t work. Fear set in quickly enough, and you found yourself crying. Though such a reaction certainly wasn’t irrational, it was painfully unhelpful. Or maybe it wasn’t. After all, it was thanks to those sniffles and muffled sobs that you were able to attract the attention of a certain someone with a keen sense of hearing and a (thankfully) kind heart.

Tighnari tracked you down from your whimpers quickly enough, and was somehow able to calm you down through his flustered pleas to stop crying and a jumbled explanation of “I can help!” —And help he certainly did.

“J-Just relax! Flailing around like that will only sink your leg farther in!” He stammered, reaching out to grab at the middle of your calf, but pausing and jerking himself away just before he made contact.

“Can I touch you?”

You all but froze at the ill-worded request, but quickly concluded that he had no malintentions. Sure, maybe it was unwise to judge a book by its cover, but those big, twitching ears paired with his shaky hands and his doe-eyed stare that watched you nervously as he waited for approval told you that he wasn’t planning anything nefarious. Plus, you really did need the help. . .

After an affirmative nod, he took hold of your calf, lithe fingers encircling a part of it with a surprising level of gentleness. His touch was akin to the soft pitter-patter of butterfly wings against fresh, spring air.

“Your muscles are tensed up,” he said, sounding almost clinical about it. “Relax them and let your foot hang limp.”

“A-Alright,” you said.

Somehow, despite your nerves and the anxiety flooding through your veins, you managed to do as he’d requested. From there, the removal process was easy, and if you hadn’t been so elated, you likely would have been more ashamed about the tears stains on your cheeks.

Still, Tighnari didn’t mock you for it. Not back then, anyway. . . Years later, that event would be fair game to poke fun at you for, but at the time, he was kind and gentle, even when his fingers shook as he wiped tears from your undereyes. He asked if you were okay, laughed with you (not at you) about the unfortunate loss of your shoe, and walked you out of the forest safe and sound.

It wasn’t until after you parted that you realized you hadn’t caught his name.

It would be quite a while before you ever saw Tighnari again. He’d grown both several inches, and into his large ears that seemed much less disproportionate by the second meeting. He also seemed to have matured quite a bit, —walking with more confidence, and appearing to be much more comfortable in his own skin. Unfortunately, you didn’t have much of an opportunity to admire said changes.

The forest has always been both undeniably beautiful and horribly intense. Creatures big and small lurk just around the corners, and some of them are painfully easy to aggravate. Even glancing in their direction can set some of them off, and that doesn’t bode well for curious eyes.

You learned that lesson the hard way.

On your way home from a taxing day, you decided that it would be a good idea to take a shortcut through the thick of the forest. It wasn’t the most familiar route, but you’d taken it several times over the years, and figured that you could manage it before late evening. That assumption likely would have panned out just fine if not for a sudden detour.

With time to spare and nothing to lose, the sound of a trickling stream somewhere off in the distance enticed you closer and closer. You thought it would be nice to sit along the land with your feet in the water for a bit, enjoying the natural beauty of Sumeru. Despite having grown up there, it came as no surprise to you that there were many areas you’d left completely unexplored, and though you weren’t much discontent with that, you also didn’t think a little adventure would hurt. After all, it was a straight shot through some thicket and trees to return to the “path” that weaved through the forest, and you made mental markers of the landscape on your way.

Getting lost wasn’t really the issue this go around, though. . .

As you sat along the bank of the stream, shoes off with your toes just barely submerged in the cold water, a sudden splash from somewhere farther up had your shoulders tensing and your head whipping to the side. A trio of Spindocrocodiles were angrily making their way towards you, their tails sputtering up water ferociously as a yelp escaped your lips.

You’d seen them before, but always knew to keep your distance. They were known to be aggressive, but typically wouldn’t cause any troubles if you left them be. Today, however, just your presence within their general vicinity alone was enough to tick them off and rouse them from their places upstream. In spite of their stubby appendages that were clearly ill-equipped to function on land, they were no less frightening as they bounded over one another, bumping into each other to see who could take a chunk out of you first.

Those razor-sharp teeth were truly nothing to sneeze at.

This time, both of your shoes were lost to the forest. You scrambled to your feet, forgetting all about them in your rush to get away. Having heard your little yelp from not-so far away, as well as the commotion in the water, Tighnari rushed to find the source of the sound and was shocked to find you of all people. You may well have changed since he last saw you as well, but he could never forget those eyes.

“This way!” He shouted, and you had little time to process who he was or why it was significant before you were bounding off in his direction.

He wasted no time, reaching out to grab your wrist and promptly leading you through the bushes and branches until the ill-outlined path was in sight.

“You really don’t know how to stay out of trouble, —do you?” Tighnari questioned, sounding a little breathless from the sudden sprint.

“I-It’s not like that!” You insist. “Maybe it’s your fault! You always seem to be around when these things happen!’

His eyes widen and the ears atop his head that now look much more appropriate there twitch a bit in surprise.

“M-Me?” He stammers, “If anything, you should be thanking me! This is the second time I’ve stepped in to save you!”

“You’re giving yourself way too much credit this time,” you say, shaking your wrist free of his grip to cross your arms over your chest stubbornly, “I would have run whether you told me to or not.”

“Knowing you, you would have run through the forest and gotten lost,” Tighnari refutes, mimicking you by crossing his own arms over his chest as well.

“Or maybe you would have gotten your foot stuck in another hole.”

Your jaw slacks a little at his mention of that.

“You don’t know me at all,” you answer, “—even if that did happen, I know how to take care of it myself this time anyway.”

“Are you sure about that?” He cocks his head to the side with a look of disbelief crossing his soft, rounded features.

“Yes,” you reply curtly, “I am.”

Silence reigns for a short while before Tighnari breaks it, returning his arms to their proper places at his sides.

“Seems you’ve lost three shoes to the forest now,” he says pointedly.

You glance down at your bare feet, sighing at the sight of them.

“One really was enough,” you mutter. “I really liked those shoes.”

“In any case, I’m Tighnari,” he says, reaching his hand out for you to shake. “If I’ll be acting as a guide for you again I figure we should get to know one another.”

Somehow, you find it within yourself to not give him a snarky response. Instead, you take his hand in an awkward handshake. His skin is soft and warm, and his eyes all but sparkle in the dying sunlight that filters in through the breaks in the fickle canopy of leaves above.

“Y/n,” you introduce yourself begrudgingly.

But as it turned out, he wasn’t that bad.

The third time was just plain overkill, in your opinion. By then, you were fairly certain that Tighnari really was some kind of bad luck charm.

In your defense, whoever thought it was a brilliant idea to set a trap for prey along a forest pathway was both stupid and wrong. Seriously. . . Who does that?

You were innocently walking along, attempting to decompress from a stressful morning with a stroll through nature, only to find yourself trapped in a deep, man-made hole when a stretch of leaf covered dirt ended up being nothing more than a trap. One moment you’d been striding along, minding your own business, and the next you were breathless at the bottom of some ugly little pit.

To add to the annoyance of it all, you didn’t even have time to try and get out yourself. As if he’d been watching from the trees, Tighnari was kneeling down on the ground above you, golden earring dangling in the late afternoon sun as he peered into the hole you’d found yourself in. He knew it was you from the pitch of your sudden scream, and an amused smirk clung to the corners of his stupid lips.

“Your luck is absolutely abysmal,” he laughed.

“I’m aware,” you grumbled in return.

He was amused by the situation you’d found yourself in, but it was clear that he was concerned for you beneath it all. Sure, he didn’t know you all that well, but he felt a sense of responsibility for you. The forest isn’t easy for most to navigate, after all. Heck, it hadn’t been easy for him to get around in for a very long time, and he’d found himself in plenty of unpleasant situations as a result of its vastness.

“Would you like some help?” He asked.

You didn’t have the nerve to be acerbic, so you folded easily. You just wanted to get out of that dumb hole.

“Yes please.”

Upon seeing your dejected expression, Tighnari began to feel quite bad about teasing you the way he had. It was irrational to think his presence was poison in your well, watering your luck down to nothing the moment you stepped into the thick of the forest, —but a part of him began blaming himself for the unfortunate mishaps you’d been experiencing over time. It was a small part of himself that he could easily stifle with logic, but it gnawed at him nonetheless.

“Can you stand?” He asked.

It took you a moment to contort your body and make your way to your feet, but you managed it easily enough. The hard part had yet to come. Even perched on the tips of your toes, you’d have likely been screwed if not for Tighnari. He reached one hand out to you, the other digging into the dirt in hopes of steadying himself for what was to come.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” You asked, tentatively reaching up to grasp at his palm and fingers.

He held your hand with a firm grip, but it was gentle in many ways in spite of that. In fact, many things about Tighnari had always been undeniably gentle.

“I’m not as fragile as I might look,” he brushed your concerns away swiftly. “Just reach for solid ground as soon as you can and use it to pull your body up, alright?”

There didn’t seem to be another available option, so you nodded in confirmation and let Tighnari count to three before he began yanking at your arm. It wasn’t the most pleasurable experience, but it worked well enough in the end. Though his fingers dug into your skin uncomfortably, you grasped at the overhanging edge of the hole the second it was in reach, using the bulk of your strength to force your body up and over. Even if it didn’t take long, you let out a deep breath the moment you collapsed onto the dirt. That was a lot of energy to expend in such a short period of time.

With a huff, you turned to lay on your back, head resting uncomfortably against the ground. Tighnari could have easily joked about pulling your feet away from the hole a bit more, lest you find yourself tumbling back down in it, but he chose not to, Instead, he laid back beside you, turning his head to look your way.

“I hope I didn’t hurt you,” he said, reaching out to take your wrist into his tender hold.

His sudden sympathy had your lips pursing together, heart skipping a little beat in the cavern of your chest.

“. . . you didn’t,” you mumble softly. “Thank you for helping me.”

As the old story goes, —the rest was history. Tighnari insisted on taking you back to his little research lab just a ways off to keep an eye on you for a bit, and that day, your perception of him completely changed. As he worked, you found yourself lost in every moment, in every flick of his wrist as he jotted down notes along scraps of parchment.

He found that you weren’t half bad to have around. Despite your limited knowledge of the forest, you were surprisingly adept at keeping up with his ramblings, and he appreciated that. Your interest in his studies was practically everything he could have asked for. You didn’t stop him or cut him off when he began rambling about mushroom temperaments or the medicinal properties of various Sumerian regional specialties. You sat and listened, engaging with every fun fact he threw your way like a kitten pawing at a ball of yarn.

Tighnari definitely wasn’t one to fall easily, —but he was no fool. The way his heart stuttered upon seeing your captivated smile was anything but typical. The warmth that pooled in his stomach the moment you took the initiative to ask him questions was special. It wasn’t just general excitement. It wasn’t something he could write off as an anomaly to check back on in three weeks time.

This was different.

You were different.

He’d have been a fool to ignore it, —and far be it from Tighnari to ever willingly play the role of court jester. Instead, he sought your presence again, again, and again. Hours passed in what felt like the blink of an eye, and he couldn’t possibly ignore how easy it was to bounce off you, or how simple it was to keep the flow of conversation moving with you. Even the moments of silence were comfortable, and he never felt pressured by your curious gaze as you watched him go about his duties.

Those daylight hours bled into dusk, and he nearly asked you to stay the night before coming to his senses and realizing that such a proposal so soon would likely be misinterpreted and off putting. He didn’t want to scare you off, so he walked you to the edge of the forest, taking you the long way round.

As you walked alongside him, he pointed out various greenery and told you of their origins or of their healing properties.

Tighnari took your departure harder than he thought. He felt ridiculous for mourning the loss of your presence after no more than a day’s worth of light, —but he couldn’t help himself. You’d woven your way into his heart so easily, like it was child’s play. He was putty in your hands the moment he watched you walk away, and you didn’t even know it.

“Tighnari!” You call out, slipping inside his little research lab with the basket of sunsettias he’d requested just a bit before.

Working under him has been an interesting experience, to say the least. Especially because it just sort of happened. It was nothing you’d actively signed up for, but by the time he first referred to you as his “assistant,” you were so attached to his general presence that you hardly cared if he were to have you do small tasks for him here and there. In fact, you’re quite thankful that he chose you to fill the position! It’s given you lots of interesting opportunities to experience sides of Sumeru you didn’t think you’d ever get to partake in so intimately, and by no means did Tighnari skimp on knowledge to offer you.

It also doesn’t hurt that he’s exceptionally adorable. His ears twitch when he’s excited, his tail swishing back and forth until he remembers that it’s there and does his best to quell it to save himself the embarrassment. He’s loveable, even when he’s doing nothing at all. And you. . . Yeah, maybe you’ve come to love him just a little too much.

It was so easy to fall for him, though. One minute he’d been explaining the various sleeping habits of various fauna, and the next, your heart had been in the palm of his gentle hand, —the ones he holds quills with as he scribbles down important (and unimportant) notes.

“Tighnari?” You repeat when you don’t hear his expected response. “Are you here?”

It appears not.

Though Tighnari did mention he’d be stepping out for a bit just before you headed off, it seems strange to you that he hasn’t returned by now. You’d been a bit slow at locating sunsettias this time, so your task had taken a bit longer to complete than usual, and Tighnari knows the forest like the back of his hand. Anything you can get done quickly, he can finish in what feels like the blink of an eye. He’s efficient and fantastic at what he does, so for him to still be gone. . . It’s raising multiple red flags, to say the very least.

You sit the basket of sunsettias down on the floor beside his desk, quickly rushing off to look for him. Even if it’s nothing, you’d much rather be safe than be sorry. When it comes to Tighnari, being safe will always be the superior option.

After all, you know quite well what wrenches the forest can throw your way, and having been on the receiving end of it many times over, you’re not keen on leaving Tighnari to suffer the same fate on his own. He could obviously handle most things that would come his way, but what kind of assistant would you be if you left him high and dry?

Better yet, what kind of friend would you be if you did such a thing?

“Hey, Tighnari!” You cup your hands around your mouth to amplify your voice, calling out to him through the trees in hopes that his keen ears will pick up on your voice.

He hears you, but stays quiet. Crumpled on the ground with a gash across his hand, the flowers he’d collected left scattered all around him, —he’s not exactly keen on letting you see him this way. . . It feels humiliating that he of all people would have found himself in a situation like this. He should have known better! He did know better.

“Tighnari!”

Guilt hits him like an angry Sumpter Beast when he recognizes the worried edge that clings to your call. You care, and he knows that you do, —but with what little humility he has left, he’d rather not be seen like this.

He considers standing up and slipping through the trees, making his way back to the lab to patch himself up in record time before you make your way back there as well, but all hope of that goes out the window when the ears atop his head jerk, alerting him of your sudden approach.

“There you are!” You say, but the relief that floods through you quickly reverts back to worry as you catch sight of the blood on his hands.

“What happened, Tighnari?” Comes the dreaded question, —the one that he’s overwhelmingly tempted to lie in response to.

But it’s you. . . And he just can’t bring himself to be anything less than truthful when it comes to you.

“I was overzealous,” he sighs. “I saw a Rishboland Tiger cub nosing around, and from where I was standing, it seemed to me that it was limping. I approached it slowly, but when it didn’t immediately run away, I assumed I was right about the injury and reached out to let it sniff my hand.”

He glances down at his injured hand, and you can easily infer the rest without him having to say it.

“Why didn’t you answer when I called for you?” You question, gently taking his hand into yours in order to gauge the seriousness of the wound. “With those ears, there’s no way you didn’t hear me.”

“I. . .” He starts, but quickly swallows the words down.

You wait just in case he has anything to say, but when he stays quiet, you think it best to leave it be. If it was something he wanted to reply to, he’d have done it. His hesitance speaks volumes, and you won’t be the one to force an answer out of him.

“Come on,” you say instead, reaching out to gather the scattered flowers he’d dropped in the scuffle. “Let’s head back to the lab. I can take care of you there.”

You offer him help to aid in standing, and he takes it without complaint (or thanks.) His cheeks are perpetually red, and you know that he’s feeling ashamed of himself for having wound up in this position, so whatever happens from there, you’re more than willing to give him more lenience than you otherwise would have afforded to him.

“I can take care of it myself,” he objects, “—you don’t have to go to any trouble. I brought this on myself.”

“Oh come on Tighnari, aren’t you the one who always says I owe you for the times you’ve helped me?” you remind him.

He parts his lips to insist that this is different, but the words falter on the tip of his tongue. He swallows them down.

“. . . yeah,” he shrugs, “I guess so.”

The tentative way he holds his hand on the trek back is depressing, but it’s also cute. It reminds you of the way he’s held your wrist a few times here and there, as if he were certain of himself, but worried that if he squeezed too hard you’d fall apart at the seams right in front of him. Looking at him now, you can relate to such a worry. He seems so vulnerable, both physically and emotionally, and the last thing you want to do is take advantage of that.

He sits and waits with no complaints as you rifle through the jars around his desk. You know what you’re looking for, but Tighnari is the only person who knows the true methods to all of his madness, and though you’ve watched him work for months now, it’s all too easy to forget what jars house what now that all the options are seemingly staring back at you with eyes of their own. It’s like they’re scrutinizing your performance, and it’s driving you up the wall.

Tighnari, on the other hand, makes no move to assist or offer criticism. There’s a sense of pride welling up within him. You’re not the fastest, but you’re not flailing. It’s just that you’re scanning your options to be certain you’ve obtained the correct ones.

“Can I see your hand?” You inquire.

Wordlessly, he gives his injured hand over to you. His trust in you is immeasurable and unwavering, and it makes your heart swell.

Under the natural light that pours in through the windows, you’re able to assess the wound better. It’s nothing terrible, but you’re certain that it hurts, and when you make the first move to use fresh, clean water to clean it off, you hear Tighnari hiss under his breath. You weren’t too rough by any means, and you were likely more gentle than he would have been with himself, but the area is freshly agitated and just about anything is enough to irritate the nerves.

“Sorry,” you mumble, eyes flickering up to meet his gaze.

“Don’t apologize,” he replies sternly. “You know what you’re doing.”

“This is the paste we made last week,” you continue without missing a beat, urged on by the little nod he offers you in response. “It’ll stop any swelling, numb most of the pain, and kill any bacteria in the wound. It’ll make it easier to wrap it up at the end, as well.”

He already knew that, of course, but he’s proud of your knowledge retention nonetheless. Tighnari doesn’t move a single muscle as you dip your finger into the yellowish paste made of natural ingredients each of you helped to gather. As you apply it as softly as you can whilst still being thorough, he clenches his jaw, but refrains from making any noise.

“You’ve learned a lot,” he says instead, a smile tugging at the corners of his pretty mouth. “I’m proud.”

There’s been many times when he’s felt that way over the months, but this is one of the few times he’s actually said it. Of course, you always feel it, —but there’s no denying that it’s a completely different feeling to hear him actively say it.

Tighnari’s words are so genuine that they make little pin-pricks stab at your waning heart.

“I’ll grab the bandages and that should do it,” you tell him, attempting (and failing to) bite back a happy smile.

You snatch them up from one of his drawers, closing it behind you with a little thud. Turning back to him, it’s obvious that the atmosphere has shifted, although nothing tangible has changed. His gaze meets yours, and your heart sings for him. He’s strong, yet vulnerable and gentle. Stern, but welcoming and tenderhearted. And above all else, Tighnari is warm.

As you take his hand into your own again, little trickles of electricity fire off through your veins. You’re hyper-aware of everything he does, from the way he swallows quietly to the fluttering of his lashes as he blinks.

He watches closely as you wrap the bandages along his hand, but his stare isn’t scrutinizing in the slightest. If anything, he’s admiring your handiwork and the precision you’ve managed to accomplish with every fold.

“That. . .” you pause for a second, tucking a loose end into the previous layers to keep it secure, “should do it. Does it feel okay?”

Tighnari bends his fingers carefully. The bandages don’t budge, nor do they dig uncomfortably into his skin.

“It’s perfect,” he assures you, and you breathe an internal sigh of relief.

You’re perfect, he wants to add, but can’t find the courage to manage it.

But a part of Tighnari knows that now’s as good a time as any. You’re so close, and you smell of flowery medicinal paste and the sunsettias you’d gathered that now sit beside his work desk on the floor. He reaches out to cup your cheek with his newly bandaged hand, matching the curve of your face. You still, muscles tensing a bit, —not because you’re scared, but because you’re worried that you’re getting the wrong idea. Although you're not certain what other ways this could possibly be interpreted.

“T-Tighnari. . .”

“Can I. . .” he pauses, swallowing down the lump that tries to form in the back of his throat, “—can I kiss you?”

For a moment, you’re completely at a loss for words. You know what you want to say, but it takes a few moments to muster up the courage. Tighnari doesn’t rush you, doesn't act before you’ve given him permission, and you know you’re free to say yes or decline.

“Y-Yeah,” you confirm, “please.”

Any worry that you might come across as a bit too desperate have gone out the window, and Tighnari certainly didn’t take it that way. He’s more elated that you said yes than anything else.

He leans in and places his lips over yours. His lips are soft and he tastes of nothing in particular, but there’s an edge of sweetness to his motions that floods through all your senses. Your body relaxes into his, tension dissipating as he soothes you with his kiss. Your heart hammers away loudly, but you’re too caught up in the moment to worry about whether he can feel it against him or not. Tighnari was the one to ignite it, and he’s the one to break it as well. His forehead comes to rest against your own, and he sighs ever so softly in content.

“Thank you,” he mumbles, —and somehow, you doubt he’s just referencing the bandage on his hand.

You say nothing, but when you breathe through the fluster and bury your face in the crook of his neck, he holds you just a little tighter.

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knightofthenewrepublic · 6 months

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Percy would have worked with Octavian, but the Augur never gave him a chance

(or Why Octavian's actions weren’t justified)

As people spend more and more time critically examining the Riordanvese (often to a fault, it must be said) one of the most common revisionist arguments is to try and absolve the mortal villains of the consequences of their action; usually by exaggerating their motivations. That includes the argument that Octavian was so quick to war partially because he was treated poorly by the Greeks. Particularly by Percy Jackson.

But does that actually hold up?

People will argue that Octavian was not evil, because attacking Camp Halfblood was justified from his perspective; he thought they had broken a truce with New Rome and attacked it. And that would be a fair argument, IF that was the only bad thing Octavian had done, or even the worst thing. It wasn’t. And Octavian had begun trying to trigger conflict well before that. Percy, on the other hand, did his best to prevent it.

The first scene where Percy meets Octavian, is also the first time we see his sinister side. And that is of course when he tries to blackmail Hazel into supporting him for Praetor.

Now there is an aspect of the context of this scene that I think a lot of people overlook; their ages. Octavian is 18, or near enough, and Hazel is 13. This is a guy old enough to vote, (the only one of them who isn’t a child soldier) blackmailing a girl too young to get a learner’s permit. Just before this, Percy says Octavian reminds him of someone; which is obviously a reference to Luke Castellan. This type of nearly grooming behavior would have really reinforced that impression; which explains Percy’s hostile reaction to it.

Percy slipped his hand into his pocket, and grabbed his pen. This guy was blackmailing Hazel. That was obvious. One sign from Hazel, and Percy was ready to bust out Riptide and see how Octavian liked being at the end of a blade.

But Percy keeps these urges internal. He doesn’t voice his anger, and doesn’t give any visible reaction. The other two keep talking like he’s not there. This is a pretty good demonstration of Percy’s hard won self control; on his first day at Camp Half-Blood he doused Clarisse with toilet water for less, without even meaning to.

The next interaction he has with Octavian isn’t much better.

“Recruit,” he [Octavian] asked, “do you have any credentials? Letters of reference?” Percy shifted. “Letters? Um, no.” Octavian wrinkled his nose. Unfair! Hazel wanted to shout. Percy had carried a goddess into camp. What better recommendation could you want? But Octavian’s family had been sending kids to camp for over a century. He loved reminding recruits that they were less important than he was. “No letters,” Octavian said regretfully. “Will any legionnaires stand for him?”

Now just asking this question is obviously standard practice, so Octavian isn’t wrong for that. It’s his condescending reaction that is the unsubtle putdown.

But then things come to a head very quickly, when that night’s game of capture the flag ends in a visit from the god Mars, and the command he delivers; a quest to retrieve the legion Eagle, and free Death.

Now what’s really important here is that, while people often think of Leo attacking Camp Jupiter as the point where Octavian turned against the heroes, THIS is the actual point. THIS is where he goes from being a nuisance to being an antagonist.

It starts in the Senate meeting the next day, when Percy tries to make sense of the situation:

“This Giant, the son of Gaea--he’s the one who defeated your forces thirty years ago. I’m sure of it. Now he’s sitting up there in Alaska with a chained death god, and all your old equipment. He's mustering his armies and sending them south to attack this camp.”

Percy is just repeating what Mars literally told them the night before. Octavian’s reasonable reaction to this is:

“Really?” Octavian said. “You seem to know a lot about our enemy’s plans, Percy Jackson.”

Him, and everyone else who was conscious at the end of the war games.

In spite of being almost outright accused of treason, Percy still keeps his cool. This shows a lot of growth on his part, compared to where he was in the second book of the previous series:

This was so completely unfair, I told Tantalus to go chase a donut, which didn’t help his mood.

After a bit more discussion, Octavian makes his move. First he gets in another insult.

“Mars has clearly chosen the least likely candidates for this quest. Perhaps it is because he considers them the most expendable.”

And then he argues that the senate should not give any of the support that would normally be given to a quest. The odds of them succeeding are already so low; better to use their resources to protect the camp.

It’s pretty easy for us, the readers, to overlook what a dick move this really is. Of course WE know that the heroes are going to come back alive; but in universe, there is nothing to guarantee that. Even a small magical trinket could be the difference between life and death. And Octavian is trying to deny them that.

This could be understandable, if there was any sincerity to it. A sad but necessary sacrifice for the greater good, to protect the camp. But after arguing that all their resources have to be saved for the battle, Octavian proceeds to do nothing with them. When the giant’s army arrives, the legion simply marches out and fights them with conventional ranks and swords. Aside from a few roman scorpions (large crossbows), no specialized weapons are brought out, no magical items are used, they didn’t even build a wall or a trench. So there was no real reason not to give them anything; even if he sincerely believed the quest was doomed, that was all the more reason to help. The right magical tool might have at least given them the chance to get back alive. Depriving the questers served no purpose other than to make them fail.

You can also see this, in the fact that all Octavian’s stated reasons don’t actually win over the senate.

The senators’ eyes moved back and forth between Octavian and Reyna, watching the test of wills. Reyna straightened in her chair. “Very well,” she said tightly. We shall put it to a vote.”

No one gives their support to Octavian before this. The senators are waiting to follow the person they see as more powerful, not the argument that was more convincing.

As for motivations, there is only one that Octavian could have; with the election just days away, he wants to prevent a rival for the praetorship.

Is the fulfillment of an epic quest a silly basis for entrusting someone with supreme executive power? Yes, in the real world, it is. But demigods don’t live in the real world; and in their world, everything revolves around quests. Quests drive every important event in the series, and are the ultimate standard by which the skill and power of a demigod are demonstrated. As Annabeth puts it in TLT:

“At camp you train and train. And that’s all cool and everything, but the real world is where the monsters are. That’s where you learn whether you’re any good or not.”

If Percy returns from a land that wiped out half a legion of demigods, with the long lost legion Eagle, the mob that is Rome will raise him up on the fanciest shield they can find. And Octavian isn’t the only one who has put that together. The very next chapter sees Reyna tell Percy that he could stand for praetor if he succeeds; and we are reminded several times that Octavian is far more politically savvy than she is. If she’s put it together, you can bet that he has.

But going back to the senate meeting itself; we see another example of Percy choosing not to start a conflict with Octavian, even when he seems to be trying to get him killed. Instead, he focuses on the important issues:

Frank jumped to his feet. Before he could start a fight, Percy said, “Fine! No problem. but at least give us transportation.”

Percy is more concerned about succeeding in saving the camp than satisfying any grudges. Octavian is more interested in how many insults he can fit into one meeting.

“A boat!” Octavian turned to the senators. “The son of Neptune wants a boat. Sea travel has never been the Roman way, but he isn’t much of a Roman!”

(The insult proves to be quite a hypocritical one in BOO, when Octavian has boats built to surround Camp Half-Blood.)

Octavian’s next attempt to start a conflict with Percy is slightly more subtle.

They were only halfway across the forum when someone called, “Jackson!” Percy turned and saw Octavian jogging toward them. “What do you want ?” Percy asked. Octavian smiled. “Already decided I’m your enemy? That’s a rash choice Percy. I’m a loyal Roman.” Frank snarled. “You backstabbing, slimy–” Both Percy and Hazel had to restrain him.

Why is Octavian talking about being enemies? It doesn’t say Percy asked angrily, or Percy growled, or Percy glared at him. It’s a very dramatic reaction.

And Percy has done nothing to suggest that he wants to be Octavian’s enemy. Sure he has grown to dislike the augur, as most people would with someone who insults them and blackmails children:

Nico put his finger to his lips. Suddenly all the lares went silent. Some looked alarmed, like their mouths had been glued together. Percy wished he had that power over certain living people . . . like Octavian, for instance.

But he’s been keeping those critical thoughts to himself. He even avoided arguing in the senate meeting so as not to escalate things. The worst thing he’s done was knocking Octavian out during capture-the-flag which was both a perfectly fair move and a good strategy. Hardly something to base a feud on.

Most likely, this is a freudian slip on Octavian’s part. He’s already started to see Percy as an enemy, for no other reason than he might be a rival. That, or it’s an attempt at gaslighting Percy into thinking he somehow provoked Octavian into trying to get him killed. In any case, the augur hardly seems unhappy to see him, and the two legionnaires at his side, go off to their deaths.

Octavian smiled wickedly. “The last person she [Reyna] had a private talk with was Jason Grace. And that was the last time I ever saw him. Good luck and goodbye, Percy Jackson.”

If he’s happy to see them go, he’s certainly not happy when they come back alive.

The look on Octavian’s face was priceless. the centurion stared at Percy with shock, then outrage. Then, when his own troops started to cheer, he had no choice except to join the shouting: “Rome! Rome!”

Not the appropriate reaction when Percy is saving the city, not to mention Octavian’s own life. The auger doesn’t have a single kind word to say.

The Roman symbols burned into Percy’s arm: a trident, SPQR, and a single stripe. It felt like someone was pressing a hot iron into his skin, but Percy managed not to scream. Octavian embraced him and whispered, “I hope it hurt.”

Just before this, Octavian kills a teddy bear and reads the future from it, announcing:

good omens for the coming year–Fortuna would bless them!

It has been suggested that Octavian actually had a very different vision at this moment; that he saw the Argo II opening fire on New Rome, and kept that to himself, but turned against Percy and the other Greeks because of that. This doesn’t seem likely. It would serve his purposes better to share that information; and he would have seen that vision in front of hundreds of demigods hardwired to notice small details, none of whom notice him having any visible reaction to it. Besides which, this can’t be the point when he turns on Percy, since he’s already been trying to sabotage him for most of the book.

Now if there is some big conflict between Percy and Octavian, this is the time for Percy to win it decisively. To use his new power and authority to put the auger in his place.

But Percy doesn’t do that.

“Why should we trust these Greeks?” Octavian was saying. He’d been pacing the senate floor for five minutes, going on and on, trying to counter what Percy had told them about Juno’s plan and the Prophecy of Seven.

Rather than simply steamroll over the discussion, and try to use his authority to silence any opposition, Percy allows Octavian a reasonable amount of time to air his concerns, before finally stepping in with his counter argument.

When Percy lays out the details of why they must join the Greeks, Octavian never comes up with a logical counter argument. Instead, when a messenger reports the Argo II has been spotted, he resorts to paranoid rambling.

“Praetors!” The messenger cried. “What are your orders?” Octavian [who is not a praetor] shot to his feet. “You have to ask?” His face was red with rage. He was strangling his teddy bear. “The omens are horrible! This is a trick, a deception. Beware Greeks bearing gifts!” He jabbed a finger at Percy. “His friends are attacking in a warship. He has led them here. We must attack!”

Yesterday when he last read the entrails, Octavian said the omens were good. Now, they’re suddenly horrible. That pretty well justifies Percy’s growing disregard for Octavian’s auguries.

Not only that; he is accusing Percy of treachery, while at the same time suggesting they attack a ship that can be seen bearing a white flag.

And this is before a single shot has been fired on New Rome. That false-flag attack by Gaea can not be the inciting incident for Octavian’s hostility to the Greeks. Not if what he wanted to do before it happened is the same as what he wanted to do after it happened. The attack is just what incentives the rest of the camp to support him.

The last interaction between Percy and Octavian is pretty much the first two chapters of MOA, where Octavian does his best to offend the Greeks.

“You’re letting these intruders into the camp!”

When Reyna orders Octavian to go make a sacrifice to the gods, Percy adds:

“Good idea. Go burn your bears Octavian.”

An insulting way to put it; but no more so than calling the Greek ambassadors (including a Roman praetor and Percy’s own girlfriend) “intruders.” And no more harsh than the insults Octavian has used for legionnaires below himself, like Frank and Hazel. And Percy has been given enough reason not to trust Octavian’s auguries any more than he trusts him.

The last exchange between them is about the praetorship:

Octavian snorted. “Which means we have three praetors! The rules clearly state we can only have two! “On the bright side,” Percy said, “both Jason and I outrank you, Octavian. So we can both tell you to shut up.” Octavian turned as purple as a Roman T-shirt. Jason gave Percy a fist bump.

I can only imagine how long Jason has been waiting for someone to say that to Octavian. It has been suggested this is an abuse of power on Percy’s part, but there is no reason to think so. They are surrounded by the senior officers of the legion, some of whom will be on Octavian's side, and no one raises an objection. And it's not like Octavian actually treats it like an order.

“I’ll step aside for Jason,” Percy said easily. “It’s no biggie.” “No biggie?” Octavian choked. “The praetorship of Rome is no biggie?”

No need to go into detail about how the rest of the series goes. Gaea triggers a war between the Greeks and Romans, and Octavian walks right into it. There is no reason to think he was working for her; but he was plainly looking for an excuse to start hostilities.

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