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valaruakars · 8 months

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26 LOVE LETTERS TO KARLACH: A & B (Or, the NSFW Alphabet meme in oneshots)

Karlach x AFAB!Tav/Reader; 1891k; Explicit. Warnings beneath each letter. Ao3 link.

𝔄 - Aftercare Warnings: Cunnilingus, masturbation, hardcore cuddling.

Her lips are wet. Spit and slick. You and her.

“C’mere,” they coax as Karlach sprawls back on the bedroll at your feet, dragging her forearm across her glossy mouth as she goes.

Propped up on her elbows, the laces on her leather pants gape. A wet smear on her thigh catches the lantern light where she must’ve wiped her fingers clean before. Her chest heaves, her bare breasts splay, but above all else, the pulse that backlights her ribcage holds you in a fucked-out trance.

Each heartbeat shifts the gradient. Cobalt at the height, turning indigo as she comes down. Subtle, one color into the next, unlike the way she touched herself to the taste of you and broke with her face buried between your legs, vents on her shoulders breathing blue.

She’s pulsing magenta now, and you’re still just staring. Realizing, distantly, that your knuckles throb because your grip on the tentpole at your back is needlessly iron. Both feet planted firmly on the ground, it’s of no use now for balance—to keep from toppling with your thigh draped over her shoulder, toes curling, legs quaking as her tongue licked impossibly deeper. Your knees are still weak, though. She has that effect.

You blink and there’s the smoldering red, orange, red again. You know it as the color of new love and the flower she picked for you by the roadside this morning; as sunsets spent together, however many are left. You know it, too, as hellfire and blood and all the awful things you came along too late to protect her from. To love her is to wish you could’ve, somehow.

“Everything alright?” she asks, growing worried.

You nod bonelessly—fucked stupid and strangely sentimental, apparently—but that does little to convince her.

Karlach sits up, curling forward to rest her forearms on her knees. The scarred skin of her stomach folds softly above her open pant laces. “Hey…” Her voice is gentle, earnest as ever. “We don’t have to do anything else tonight. Well, unless you’re up for it—in that case, I’ll happily provide. But me? I had more of a cuddle in mind if I’m honest. I just want you close.” Uneasy, then: “…If you want that too.”

It’s not surprising. She’s always eager to thread her spent body around you, the smell of sweat, metal and sex thickened by her heat, but a thought finally occurs to you.

Champion, bodyguard, protector—her arms are as good for cleaving bone as they are for holding a lover, but when was the last time someone held her? Made her feel wanted and safe and cared for in that vulnerable stretch before sleep follows satisfaction? In the morning, she’ll ask if you still like her. She keeps asking like sharing a private joke, but you know better. You know her and what anxiety looks like in her eyes, what it sounds like in her voice; how she blooms for you, made vibrant by a little reassurance. You might know, too, how to stay the doubt before it ever starts at dawn.

“Of course I want that,” you croak, cracking a coy smile at your own raw, scratchy voice. Whoever could guess how it got that way? You pad over, loose linen shirt scantly covering the still-damp curls between your legs. “Scoot, please.”

Karlach wiggles over, smile restored, as you sink down beside her. Her arms move to curl around your waist, to pull you into an embrace as soft and warm as sleep has been beside her lately. But your arms thread around her shoulders and you’re the one to pull instead, gentle and more insistent, different than every other night before.

“What’s this about…?” she starts to ask. Her body is pliant, her muscles are soft. Trusting when life has tried and failed to teach her to be otherwise. She goes easily, guided to lay her head against your chest. Settles in that perfect spot where her broken horn clears your shoulder and her ear is near enough your heart. Her breath slips warm beneath the edge of your shirt as she shudders a quiet, “Oh.”

The moment stretches in sweet, idle touches. Your fingers trace the thick keloids up and down her tricep. They card through her dark hair as the lantern burns low, balancing affection’s scales with each absent kiss to the crown of her head. And before her breathing turns slow and even, before her lips part and the arm around your waist grows heavy, she whispers, “Thank you,” as if loving her the way she needs is any hardship at all.

𝔅 - Body Part Warnings: Alcohol use, shitty attempts at seduction; no, he's not being serious (when you know, you'll know).

Wind through the trees, drink in your hands—the campfire crackles and pops, smoke sweet with pine sap billowing downwind. Huddled in a semicircle, the night is still young amongst the five of you left awake.

There’s Shadowheart to her right, kneeling prim and rigid, leading a one-woman argument by the haughty pitch of her voice, but Karlach isn’t listening. Neither is Lae’zel for once, too fixated on sharpening her longsword to be baited into it. Not yet, at least.

Then there’s Astarion, grimacing with each shallow drink he takes from a green glass bottle. It’s never good wine pried from overturned crates, lost and forgotten on the roadside, but it’s wine nonetheless. Always fucking wine, no matter how hard she wishes for cured meats or bruised fruits. They’re cursed with a bounty of it.

Possibly blessed, on second thought, because then there’s you sitting straight across the fire with dark, hungry eyes and slackened lips. Thoroughly sloshed, shamelessly staring; somewhere so beyond yourself that you’ll have trouble finding your way back in the morning.

Nothing’s going to happen. It can’t on account of her engine, neither would it on account of her principles, but Gods, watching you finger the bottle in your lap sings to her imagination. Over and over, you drag it in and out with the faintest wet pop. You do it so slowly that perhaps it could be mistaken for absent fidgeting to anyone else, but not her. You look Karlach dead in the eye with each and every lazy pop, and the intent is very clear.

It’s so stupid—such a sloppy attempt at seduction that Karlach knows she’d be snorting into her fist if she saw it happening to anyone else. What’s stupider is that it fucking works on her. Trashed and desperate make a heady pair, apparently, and for her part, Karlach can feel the blood rushing down, evacuating her brain like it’s an emergency.

“Alright, yes, we get it,” Astarion suddenly groans, then beneath his wine-soaked breath mutters something that makes you peal a giggle. Well, more of a sloppy chortle, really, but the rose tinted glasses are firmly on at this point. Shadowheart purses her lips, finally quiet; Lae’zel clucks her tongue. “Can we perhaps turn the conversation to something, oh, I don’t know, interesting?”

“Like…?” you ask, lolling your head. Slurring, “Far’s I can tell, your only interests are blood, sex, ‘n fancy shoes.”

“Nonsense, darling. My companions have become a great interest to me, as it turns out.”

His eyes flit around the campfire, weighing some invisible odds. They settle on her.

“Dear Karlach, why don’t you tell us your favorite thing about our little friend here?” he drawls, gesturing to you, mid-swig from the bottle she thought you’d emptied a while ago. You start to smile too soon with it pressed to your lips and that little bit left in the bottom drips down your chin. Down, down, fucking down, and her eyes brazenly follow.

“Easy,” Karlach snorts, because she’s horny. “Ti—” she starts to say, because she doesn’t think before she speaks half as much as she should.

But Karlach clamps the word down before it’s all out in the open and you’re too embarrassed to ever speak to her again. It’s one thing to eye-fuck across the campfire and another thing entirely to let everyone else in on it. She fumbles for a laugh to cover it up that putters into a cough, backpedaling hard as she can. “T—‘Tis an easy question, I mean…” Nailed it. “Got a little tongue tied there. Must be the wine. You know how it is,” she shrugs, “really gets to my head.”

“Funny,” Shadowheart hums, “I wouldn’t consider you a lightweight. Come to think of it, I recall an evening when you drank two bottles on your own without ever stopping to empty your stomach.”

“You try eating the food in Avernus for a decade. Got an iron stomach right here,” she laughs, easier this time, as she flexes and gives it a knock.

Languidly, Shadowheart’s eyes drop. Something about it rakes, appraises. “To match the heart, I suppose?” It’s familiar. She’s seen the same look on your thrice as drunk face all night.

“How generous of you to remind her,” Lae’zel sneers, because for reasons unknown, Karlach has found herself on her good side. But this feels like more than that. This feels sharp, spiteful and goading, hanging heavy between the two women so often at odds.

Karlach coughs again as the atmosphere shifts strangely. “Sorry, what was the question?” she wonders too loudly. On purpose. “Oh—right, yeah.” Karlach shrugs like it’s a casual fact: the sky is blue, grass is green, and you are fucking lovely when you watch her sharpen her axe and think you’re being sly. “She’s got the prettiest eyes.”

“Cute,” says Astarion, dripping with disgust, “but are you quite sure you didn’t mean to say tits? You know, a smutty answer was preferred…”

“What? Psh, no! I would never—” Four sets of eyes are on her now, leveling that you’re-full-of-shit sort of stare right at her in various intensities. “Fine, alright,” she sighs. Knows when she’s caught, and when to surrender. “Respectfully: Tits.” And then for some Godsforsaken reason, her mouth produces the words: “Perfect handful right there, I just know it.”

Across the campfire, your lip wobbles. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Too much, again, and Karlach sucks air through her teeth for an apology.

Before she gets any further, “That is… the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me,” you sniffle, flopping bonelessly toward Astarion like you mean to hug him. He’s faster, cat-like as he shifts away and stands, leaving you in the dirt. Literally.

“Whoever thought the bar could be so low?” Shadowheart murmurs, getting to her feet too.

“Yes,” Lae’zel agrees, a rare and beautiful thing, “that is incredibly sad.”

Karlach doesn’t have the presence of mind to think it’s strange that she follows Shadowheart off into camp. Not as you blubber just out of reach, a self-proclaimed ‘emotional drunk’ no longer when here’s the soggy proof.

The good news: She still likes you. A lot. Even as wave your arms to the starry sky and bemoan how the Gods gave their toughest battle to their weakest soldier. Not in reference to the tadpole or the goblins or the inevitable horrors to come, just that you can’t, quote, ‘get your hands on Faerûn’s most perfect ass,’ without getting scorched to the bone.

The bad news: For the same reason said hands are not on her ass, nor is her tongue in your mouth, she can’t exactly put you to bed.

The worse news: Astarion’s certainly not going to help.

He sighs, forlorn, and pouts, “So, no orgy?”

#karlach #karlach x tav #karlach x reader #bg3 #my writing #mdni #god bless the bg3 team for second person narration tbh #was I writing pure reader insert? did I actually have a tav in mind?#you'll never know ✨#also pls clap i made that gif myself 🥺

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writers-hes · 11 months

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since when? (a. bridgerton x reader)

You grew up with the Bridgertons and for the longest time, Anthony thought of you as a friend…since when did he look at you differently? (friends to lovers, slow burn, the Bridgertons being the best wing men, you look at him but he’s already looking at you….) helpful links: navigation | master lists | rules and guidelines | tag list | fic recs

It was no secret among the Ton that your family was a dear friend to the Bridgertons. Your mother and Violet Bridgerton have been friends since they were children. They shared paper crowns, secrets, joys, and sorrows. They got married in the same year and soon enough, your mother was helping Violet as she birthed Anthony and then Benedict. Soon, it was Violet who helped your mother as she birthed her only child, you.

The Bridgerton household has always been big and it provided your parents some comfort to know that you won’t have to grow up alone. You’d always be surrounded by the Bridgertons and you were. Many a time, the older brothers would sneak into your gardens to tease you while you played with your dolls, a picnic blanket laid on the grass as you waited for Violet to bring Daphne.

“You know, there are other games than dolls,” Colin would tease, his nose scrunching. “Anthony loves to play pall mall. Maybe you’d beat him,”

“Hey! No one can beat me,” Anthony would scold, taking a doll from your hand.

“Anthony! Give me back my doll!” you’d call and he’d run away from you, cackling evilly while his younger brothers inspected your toys curiously. When you’d grow tired, you’d sit on the porch of your house and cry until Anthony came over to you with an apologetic look on his face.

“You took my doll, Anthony! You can’t make girls cry! You can’t make your friend cry too!” you’d sob but Anthony would utter a string of apologies that you’d accept. “I’m your friend, right?”

“Of course. I’m sorry for making you cry,” he’d say. Later in the day, he’d force Benedict to give one of the servants a box of cookies for you and in the morning, he’d sneak off again to see you happily munching on them. He’d steal a piece or two of course, but as a punishment, you’d force him to stay and have a tea party with you.

When you grew older, Anthony was still playful. When he’d bring his friends over while you were having tea with Daphne, he’d pull a face and would ask “What are you doing here again? Do you not have a home?”

“I could say the same,” you shrugged. You were teenagers now and the blows just got better. “With the amount of time you spend in our house, one would think that your family hates you. Guess, I’m right,” you shrugged, the same amount of sarcasm.

“Don’t mind him,” Daphne would say, rolling her eyes. “He’s sulky whenever you’re not around,”

“He’s probably annoyed because he’a got no one to annoy, Daph,” you replied, sipping on tea. She’d smile at you and you’d smile back at the girl whom you’ve always loved as a little sister. “It’s been a while since all of us got together but I understand, of course. The boys have their education to attend to and us…well, we have pianoforte and needlework,”

“They will be coming back soon for a break,” Daphne says. “Perhaps we can all have a picnic?”

And so you all attended a picnic together. It was a summer’s day, families were setting up their own tents in the park for a lovely afternoon. It was unusual to see your family’s tent and the Bridgertons’ right beside each other.

“What is it you’re reading?” Benedict asked, when he saw you. He just got back from schooling two days ago and was back to his old antics.

“Nothing worth mentioning since you can’t read,” you replied with a smile hiding behind the book. “Gregory’s still so young but I bet he can read way better,”

“Hey!” he scolds. “If you must know, I was the best reader in my class as a young boy,”

You laughed. “How have you been, Ben?” You’ve always been softer on Ben and Colin. They’d bother you like brothers did but they never made you cry as a child.

“Same old,” he shrugs, sitting next to you. “I took art history and art as a course for my studies this year,”

“And?”

“I plan on pursuing it,” Ben says. You smiled proudly at him.

“That’s great, Benedict. My husband and I would like to commission you for a painting in the future,” you said. “When you’re famous, please give me a friendly rate!”

“You don’t even have a husband yet,” Benedict shrugged. “Besides, maybe it’ll be your husband who’s going to finance my artistic pursuits,” he hinted and you tilted your head, confused.

“I don’t have a husband…” you trailed off, making Benedict laugh as he saw the gears in your head turning.

“I jest!” he says, making you laugh.

“You are insufferable, Benedict Bridgerton!”

“You are as clueless as I am insufferable,”

It didn’t take long enough for you to make your debut and enter society. It was a big commotion inside your house but a quiet one amongst the Ton. It unnerved you because you were still young. How could your mother not see that you didn’t want to marry yet? She told you that you’d been putting it off for years; now that you were not a teenager. Two and twenty…a little too late to debut but who cared? You were the most beautiful debutante the Ton has ever seen…or at least someone thought so.

“Stop your staring, brother or flies will get inside your mouth,” Colin whispered, leaning ever so slightly to Anthony.

“I am not staring! I’m only surprised,” Anthony replied.

“Well, no one should be surprised,” Benedict added. “She’s of age and she needs to find a husband. Could you imagine? If she marries this year, we could have a little baby to bother next year. Oh, I so want to become an uncle!”

You were looking around nervously. You’ve always hated big gatherings and Lady Danbury’s ball was enormous. At the sight of your three friends, you visibly relaxed, excusing yourself from the gentlemen who approached you (quite rudely) to make a beeline towards them.

“Oh, God. I’m so glad you’re here!” you breathed.

“Lady Danbury would have our eyes for breakfast if we do not attend,” Colin replied. “You look beautiful!”

“Thank you, Colin,” you said, scrunching your nose. You weren’t unfamiliar with Colin’s compliments now and then. He never found it troublesome to say the words one needed to hear to feel comfortable, if not good.

“I was just talking about how much I want to become an uncle,” Benedict said. “Anthony doesn’t want to marry, Daphne’s too young…”

“And you’ve taken me as an unwilling volunteer of your aspirations,” you finished for him, making him chuckle.

“Well, that might be the case. Have you ever had champagne? Libations are usually free-flowing in events like these,” Benedict winked. “In fact, let’s go get champagne after we dance. Come,” he says, extending his hand toward you. You smiled brightly and accepted with your gloved hand, allowing Benedict to lead you to the dancefloor.

“Tsk tsk,” Colin chides Anthony who has not said a word since your arrival. “She’s beautiful, is she not?”

“I suppose,” he mutters before taking an exit.

Upon hearing the news that you have debuted, the girls rushed to your house to hear about last night.

“Did you meet anyone?” Daphne asked eagerly.

“No one,” you replied, seeing as Daphne deflated, you tried to brighten her spirits up. “But…it’s only the first ball. There are many other balls to attend to and bachelors to meet,”

“Are Lady Danbury’s ball as great as everyone makes it out to be?” Francesca asked. “Where are your callers?”

“It is,” you nodded. “I have not danced with anyone last night but Benedict and Colin,” you shared.

Daphne, Eloise, and Francesca were all excited for you. Daphne, mostly, who has always looked up to you as her older sister. Now that you’ve made your debut to society, it could be real. You could finally be her sister.

“And Anthony?” she asked.

“He was brooding the whole night,” you chuckled. “As he always does,”

“I hope whoever you marry is at least smart,” Eloise commented from her chair. “Someone smart enough to hold a conversation…definitely not one of my brothers,”

“Eloise!” you scolded playfully.

“What? It is true,” she shrugged, a glint in her eye.

In a few hours, Anthony comes to fetch his sister. You had been answering the younger girls’ questions patiently, keeping them entertained as you showed them your dresses for the season. Eloise was in the drawing room, drowning herself in her writing.

“Where’s Daphne and Francesca?” Anthony asked.

“Hello to you too, brother,” Eloise greeted. “They’re in Y/N’s bedchamber. She’s showing them some dresses and other things for the season,”

Anthony hummed and made a beeline for your room. It was wide open, your giggles heard in the corridor. Eloise was hot on his tails, trying to see the commotion for herself.

“I hope you’re not giving my sisters any ideas,” he says, leaning on your doorframe. In all of the years he’s known you, he’s never seen your bedchamber. His eyes were darting around quickly, taking note of your books, your table, and paraphernalia that embodied who you were.

“Anthony!” you greet. “Ow!”

He looks at you in alarm, laughing when Francesca apologizes for stepping on your shoes as you taught her how to dance.

“What are you doing, Francesca?” he asked, back straightening to walk inside but he stopped himself, afraid to cross any boundaries. It was Eloise who literally had to shove him slightly.

“It’s okay, Anthony,” you smiled. “I was teaching your sisters how to dance. I’m a great dancer, you know? I can teach you…so you won’t have to step on a poor girl’s foot while you dance,” you teased.

Three girls waited in anticipation but Anthony said nothing.

“No reply?” you asked. “It must be my lucky day, girls.”

“Not that it’s any of my concern but I’m afraid I’m a far better dancer than you’ll ever be. Perhaps, it is I who should teach you? Benedict complained all night because of your dancing,”

“He did not!”

“He did,” he teased, a slight smirk playing on his lips. “Come along, sisters. Mother wants us all for dinner,”

That night, when the three sisters were huddled in the library quietly, they all agreed how wonderful it would be to have you as a part of the family. Unbeknownst to them, their two older brothers also agree.

Anthony peeked outside the window, noticing the line of carriages on the street.

“What’s the commotion outside?” he asked, no one in particular.

“Didn’t you know? Our Y/N was the talk of the ball last night,” Benedict replied. “Such a shame you weren’t there, Anthony. She was seen making an acquaintance with a businessman. He asked if he could call on her today and her mother said yes. Her dance card was filled to the brim, I almost wasn’t able to dance with her,” he said, a mischievous glint in his eyes, as he watched Anthony. He wasn’t lying, you told him all about it and showed him your dance card. You complained at how tired you were while you both danced. “Maybe we’ll have a nephew or a niece soon, hmm?”

“Can you go accompany me later, Anthony? I want to go to her and see all of these gifts!” Daphne asked. “Do you think someone gifted her a dog?”

“Ask Benedict or Colin to come with you,” he replied sourly.

“I can’t…I have a prior commitment,” Benedict lied. “with Colin,”

“Ah, yes,” Colin added. “I am ready to go to the farm, brother,”

“Come on, Anthony. You could just take me there and leave me. You can come back in a couple of hours!” Daphne begged.

Anthont relented before walking off. He didn’t see how his younger siblings smirked at each other.

Afternoon came and you were tired. You were sitting lazily on the loveseat amongst gift boxes you have yet to open. Luckily, no one gifted you with a dog.

“Y/N!” Daphne called and you smiled, fixing your posture slightly to greet her. “Your gifts! They’re so many!”

“Hello, Daphne,” you greeted. “Anthony, you’re here,”

“Daphne dragged me,” he said, taking a piece of chocolate from the box given to you by some gentleman before plopping down in front of you. “Don’t mind me.”

You looked at Daphne who shrugged.

“Do you want to open them with me?” you asked her, sitting up. “I need your help, you know and you can take whatever you might like,”

“Really?” she asked eagerly. “You’re certain? These might cost a fortune and you’re giving it away?”

“Yes,” you nod. “You can take some for Francesca, Eloise, and Hyacinth too. Besides, you’ll be helping me out. None of these would fit in my room,”

Daphne nods excitedly and picks a box from a shop she knew. She gasped as she takes out a music box with a man and a woman dancing in the middle. She turns the crank and hears a sweet melody.

“Look! The female dancer looks like you,” she says. She digs the box for anything and reads out a card. “Thank you for keeping me company and for making me feel welcomed. Sincerely, A.S..?”

“Alfred,” you told her. Anthony was secretly listening to your conversation. You were on a first name basis now? It annoyed him, he didn’t know why. “We danced last night,”

“What does he look like? Is he handsome?”

“He is!” you giggled, putting away the box that you just opened. “He looks quite intimidating and has a brusque way of speaking but he’s gentle.”

“What are the color of his eyes?” she asked.

“Gray…with hazel and blue,” you replied. “It looks like a dark blue from afar but when you’re closer, you’ll see specks of other colors too,”

“I wish to meet him,”

“Daphne!” Anthony scolded after listening.

“Sorry,” she apologized, a frown on her face.

“It’s okay,” you assured. “You can meet him some other time.”

The Ton fully believed that you were courting. Sightings of you and Alfred around London had been common. You’d have your hands wrapped around his arm while your maid trailed behind. People were so sure that you were courting. How could they not? He was always calling on you or has been seen dancing with you multiple times. It didn’t help that Alfred only danced with you during balls. It didn’t help at all.

“Y/N has been spending so much time with that Alfred lately,” Colin remarked. “They’re always huddled by the dance floor, laughing among themselves. If they weren’t dancing, you’d be certain that they’d be together,”

Colin looked at Benedict discreetly. Daphne and her sisters watched Anthony.

“Maybe there will be a nephew or a niece after all,” Anthony replied with a strained voice. His throat ached as he suppressed an emotion that bubbled in his chest.

The Bridgertons could not be any more wrong. On your first meeting with Alfred, he admitted that he had a girl he loved back home. He hasn’t told her yet, still building his business to fully support her. He only attended this social season to expand his business and had made your acquaintance because your father invested a sum in his business. You both agreed to keep a ruse that you were courting. You weren’t looking to marry and he didn’t want any mamas vulturing him.

He’d been successful in gathering investors. He told you all about his travels and about the woman he left home. He said that they’d visit you sometime soon. Meanwhile, you showed him to London’s high society. You told your father to invite him to his club. He liked dancing and had thought of you as a suitable dance partner. Your parents never minded. The more you spent time with Alfred, the more suitors you had. You’d never know exactly why but Alfred has been telling everyone that you were warm, comforting, and kind.

One afternoon, you were seen with Alfred again, not knowing that the Bridgertons were there in the park too. It was nothing formal. Alfred showed up at your door, asking if you had any plans this afternoon. You said no and asked if you’d like to accompany him to the park. He’ll be leaving in a few days and wanted to spend more time with you before he left.

Anthont watched from the tent as you passed by. You were so consumed with some joke that you didn’t notice the tent.

“Is that Y/N and Sir Alfred?” Daphne asked. “He’s as handsome as she described him! Franscesca, look! I’m going to say hello,” she declared before gathering herself. Anthony ran after his sister who was more than excited to be introduced to the man who had occupied your time. Maybe it was Daphne but maybe it was because he needed to know but either way, he followed.

“Y/N!” Daphne called and you stopped, smiling widely as Daphne neared. You also threw a quick smile towards Anthony.

“Hello, Daphne,” you greeted. “I didn’t know you were here. Had I known, I would have dropped by,”

“It’s alright. I just wanted to say hello to you and…”

Your eyebrows rose and you chuckled.

“Alfred,” your friend introduced himself. “Nice to meet you, Ms. Bridgerton. Y/N has talked so greatly about you. Good afternoon, Viscount Bridgerton,” he greeted and Anthony returned the greeting.

“Alfie—Alfred, you’ve yet to meet the others,” you smiled up at him. Anthony’s heart clenched. Alfie?

“Hey! I told you to stop calling me that,” he chastised playfully. “It ruins my reputation,”

“I apologize, sir Alfie,” you teased. “Anyhow, this is Daphne and Anthony. They’ve been my friends since we were children. They’re like my siblings,”

Alfred’s eyebrows shot up. Maybe to all of them…but that label was disliked by someone. He was looking at him right now.

“Would it be a bother if I introduced Alfred to the rest of the family?” you asked. Daphne shook her head, taking your hand immediately to bring you to their tent, Alfred and Anthony in tow.

“Y/N’s here!” Daphne announced. “She brought Sir Alfred with her,”

“Sorry for the intrusion, everyone,” you apologized. Anthony was about to say that it wasn’t a bother at all. He saw how his siblings’ faces lit up when they saw you. “Everyone, meet sir Alfred. Alfred, meet everyone,”

Everyone introduced themselves. Alfred was charming and perfect for you. Anthony could see that and it made him uncomfortable. He’d been denying the fact for so long and he will continue to do so.

“Alfred is very favorable, is he not?” Violet commented when you both left. You had to go attend an opera show with Alfred for the evening. “Such a handsome man who seems to care deeply for our Y/N. Do you think they’ll be engaged soon?”

“I believe someone else is perfect for our Y/N,” Benedict spoke. “Alfred may be as you described him, mother but I see nothing but friendship between the two of them. Trust me,”

The simple bracelet dangling on your arm made Anthony question Benedict. You told Daphne that you weren’t feeling well today because Alfred left last night. As a parting gift, he gave you a bracelet with a simple pendant. Daphne recalled how puffy your eyes were when she visited. It was obvious that you both held each other dearly. You were just too sad to see him go.

Anthony took it upon himself to light your spirits up again. After a morning of appeasing your callers, Anthony put it upon himself to sit by the garden seen right outside of your drawing room. You knew he was there, he always liked to sit by the swings. You walked towards him and he looked up.

“Why are you here?” you asked.

“I’ve noticed how sad you’ve been since your…Sir Alfred left London,” he said. “So, I thought…why must I let you suffer any longer? Let’s have tea in that place you like. I’ll pay for everything,”

“What happened to Anthony Bridgerton?” you asked and he chuckled.

“We’ve been friends way before we learned how to walk. Besides, banter gets boring, don’t you agree?” he asked, extending his arm for you to take. “You know what? I’ll even listen to you. Just for a day,”

“You will?” you asked, attaching your hand on his arm. “Wait—my maid—“

“It’s okay. Everything has been taken care of,” he said. “Let’s go,”

The Bridgerton carriage waited for you both and he let you in. The ride to the town square was quiet. If anyone understood your plight, it was Anthony. Besides, who would he tell? The gossip papers? Certainly not.

Sitting across from him in a secluded table in the tea shop with finger food and tea before you, you decided to speak.

“Alfred and I weren’t courting,” you confessed, sipping your tea. Anthony feels the constriction in his chest loosen. As if he hadn’t been breathing properly before your confession.

“Pardon?” he asked, setting down the cucumber sandwich that he was eating. “You’re not courting? Then…what about your dances? Everyone was waiting for the two of you to wed. You do know that you aren’t fooling me, right?”

You chuckled.

“He has a sweetheart back home,” you said and Anthony’s hands clenched. How could someone like Alfred fool you? “It’s not like that…before you declare war. Listen to me, alright?”

“Alright,”

“He and I thought of a ruse that we’re courting. I don’t want to be married yet, Anthony. You know more than anyone that I’m in no rush. He didn’t want to be surrounded by debutantes and mothers who asked him for a dance. He was only here to expand his business by looking for more investors,” you said coolly. You looked at Anthony’s furrowed brows. “I know I should have told you but we both agreed to keep it between us. The fewer people involved, the more effective. He and I are friends and nothing but,”

“What about the music box and your bracelet?” he asked. He wanted to take the words back if he could. It showed that he paid attention and it bothered him.

“Oh…” you stuttered, looking away. “The music box was a gift from him. A gift for agreeing with everything. The bracelet…well, it’s the same. It’s a parting gift for our friendship. We both have the same bracelet with the same gem. I was sad to see him leave but more than anything, I’m looking forward to his next return with the woman he loves. Did you know he’s going to confess his feelings? If everything goes well, he'll ask her hand for marriage.” you said and Anthony knew that it was the truth. Your eyes sparkled as you talked about Alfred’s possible marriage.

“It’s what I want for myself,” you spoke. “I want to marry under those circumstances and not because of practicality or…whatever it is. I am expected to marry someone with a rank…someone from a good family. I am an only child but I do not want to be restricted by my responsibilities,”

“I see,” was his pensive reply. “We haven’t danced yet. Did you know that?”

“I am well aware,” you acknowledged. “The last ball will be soon. Would you care for a dance, Viscount Bridgerton?”

“I would,”

Anthony went home that day humming.

Violet was alarmed…he has never seen Anthony so carefree since Edmund’s tragic death. His brothers were amused and his sisters were confused. They were all so used to a brooding Anthony.

“Anthony, is everything alright?” Violet Bridgerton asked. Anthony halts his step, sitting on his own chair.

“Of course,” he says. “It’s a wonderful day, is it not?”

“I suppose so,” his mother replies. “Would you like some tea before dinner? I can make you a cup,”

“It’s quite alright, mother. Y/N and I just had tea,” he shrugged. Daphne’s piano stopped playing and Anthony could feel eyes on him.

“You and who?” Benedict asked.

“Y/N and I,” Anthony replied. “Why are you all looking at me? Is something the matter?”

“No but usually you’d ask me to come—“ Daphne stops as her mother looks at her pointedly. Anthony was in good spirits and it is therefore favorable for everyone if his good mood persists.

“Of course, dear sister but remember, she and I are good friends. I just decided to ask her to spend the afternoon with after Sir Alfred’s departure,” Anthony replied. They didn’t know what he knew.

“Such a shame,” Eloise added. “I thought for sure they’ll be married by the end of the season,”

“What?” Anthony asked, an edge in his voice. Violet’s eyes rolled, annoyed that Eloise might have ruined Anthony’s mood. “Why must she marry him? There are other bachelors in London who suit her better,” he says. “Besides, they are friends,”

“What about the bracelet he gave her? Did you know he has the same one?” Daphne asked.

“Would you rather her marry somebody from outside London and see her rarely or marry someone close and see her often?” Anthony asked. Everyone stayed silent, it seemed as though the Viscount himself hadn't realized his feelings. “Exactly. Anyhow, thank you for your interrogation. I will be in my study to oversee some matters,”

He says, kissing his mother’s head before walking off.

“If that is what Y/N can do to Anthony, I would really want her to be married to him,” Francesca says, earning a few nods from her siblings.

The last ball of the season came and Anthony was dressed in his best clothes. He went to his barber before going to the tailor to have his clothes altered perfectly. He was in the ballroom, awaiting your arrival. Before leaving that afternoon, you both agreed to look your best.

Your mother soon comes with you behind her. You were donned in Anthony’s favorite color, butterflies and flowers embroidered in the dress. Jewels were in place, your hair falling in all the right places. Anthony thought that you looked ethereal.

He waited until you saw him, eyes brightening. He smiled, walking towards you. He forgot his brothers who stood behind him. He’d love nothing more than to have your first and last dances.

“Anthony,” you greeted. He takes your hand and kisses your gloved hands.

“You look beautiful,” he says.

“Does that mean I’m not beautiful on a regular day?” you teased. “You look just as handsome, Anthony,”

“Shall we dance?” he asked and you nodded, allowing him to escort you to the dance floor. Anthony looks into your eyes as lilting music starts. Soft murmurs in the crowd fade away. It’s the first time he’s seen you so, so close. There was a faint smile playing on your lips and he found himself smiling too. “Do you remember, when we were younger, our dance teachers would pair us together?”

“And I remember being the better dancer,” you boasted. “Is this how you teach?”

“No,” he replied, finding his hand on your hip, the feeling of the fabric soft against his skin. “I concede. You are the superior dancer,”

You beamed. Anthony thought that he’d let himself lose in your arguments to see you smile like that again.

“Maybe I should teach you…so you wouldn’t have to embarrass yourself in front of other debutantes,” you offered.

“Why should I learn how to dance with others when I’m perfectly fine with my dance partner?” Anthony asked. “It’s just…one, two, step. Remember?”

“Of course, I do,” you replied. “I remember Miss Rutherford scolding you for stepping on my toes,”

Anthony laughed. “You will never let that down, will you?”

“Of course not. Banter may get boring but I find it most pleasurable to see you agitated,” you replied. “Do I…agitate you?” you asked, swallowing thickly. Anthony could feel your breath on his face.

“You do,” he replied. “Is that good?”

“Very,”

“How was your dance?” Benedict asked. “Did you all know that he and Y/N danced last night? Laughing among themselves?”

“You did?” Francesca asked, excited.

“He left us when he saw her. I think Anthony forgot that he was supposed to be with his brothers,” Colin teased.

“I don’t see the matter,” Anthony replied, swallowing his breakfast. “You have both danced with Y/N. I did too. We are friends,”

“Of course,” Colin replied. “Only…you had your eyes glued on her last night. You shared your last dance together. Mother had to separate the two of you beside the refreshments table because you were too busy giggling among yourselves,”

“I for one would love it if Y/N became a part of our family,” Eloise remarked.

“Isn’t she already a part of it? We all grew up together. Why is everyone acting absurd?” Anthony asked but he knew. He couldn’t stop thinking about you these days. Last night, he tossed and turned in his bed because he couldn’t stop his heart fluttering from the recent events. He remembered the relief he felt when you told him about your ruse with Alfred. He remembered how much he enjoyed his banter with you over the years…most especially recently. He has always seen you as a friend. Since when has he looked at you in a different light? His mouth ran dry, gulping the cold water to calm his nerves. Was this true?

“I would like to visit Y/N,” Daphne announced and Anthony sputtered. He coughs to clear his throat. “Would you accompany me, Anthony?”

“I could not,” he lied. How would he react if he saw you unbothered? How would he react if he saw you again? “I have matters to attend to. Ask Benedict or Colin to take you instead,”

Anthony sat in his office doing nothing but nursing the tumultuous beating of his heart. Since when did I think of her like this? Why is she so beautiful? Would she still accept me despite our shared banter?

Later in the afternoon, Anthony found himself pacing in their garden. He was so tempted to go over to your garden but he knew that Daphne would be there with you. He looked at the gate that separated you to him. Oh, how he wanted nothing more than to have that demolished.

“You’re looking too pensive for my liking,” Violet Bridgerton says, looking at her first born with concern. “I hope you know that your siblings only like to tease,”

“I know but…what if they were right?” Anthony revealed. Violet’s eyebrows shot up. Sure, she noticed how different Anthony seemed to be these days but she never could have expected it to come from him so easily.

“If that’s how you feel, why not tell her?”

“She told me she has no wish to get married,” he says. He then told his mother about the ruse that you had with Alfred. How you both fooled everyone in London.

“Well, Benedict’s right all along,” Violet says. “But you’re both still so young, Anthony. You have so much time and I want you to spend this time on what makes you happy.”

“What if I fail?” he asked with a weak voice. Violet was reminded of Anthony as a child, when he used to voice his insecurities. There was something so beautiful about a child seeking his mother.

“At least you tried,” she said. “It would hurt more if you’re left all your life wondering what could have happened if you tried,”

The weeks that transpired after the social season could be described as irregular. You were thinking of better words to say but it was hard. Anthony was kinder and would purposely seek out your company on slower days. Over the course of a few weeks, Anthony had accompanied you to the theater. He spent time with you at the museum. He stayed at your house to share a meal with your family. The banter was there and it was still enjoyable but you couldn’t deny the fact that the new Anthony was way more favorable. You were now in the Bridgerton home after being invited by the siblings for a meal in the garden. The weather was amazing and Anthony had just installed beautiful lamps that illuminated the garden.

“I would like you to be my sister, Y/N,” Francesca announced after helping her choose a bow. She settled with a peach-colored bow that went beautifully with her hair. You chuckled, brushing off her comment.

“Are we not like sisters already?” you asked, tying the bow perfectly around a lock of hair.

“We are…but it would be better if you lived with us,” she said. “Or visited us more,”

“I’m sorry if you’ve been feeling neglected,” you told her honestly, your hand caressing her hair gently. “But now that the social season is over, we can see each other more.”

“You promise?” she asked.

“Of course. Daphne, Eloise, and you could all come visit me at home. We’ll have the night all to ourselves in my bedroom. I’ll prepare your favorite sweets and we can just talk the whole night. How does that sound?” you asked, your heart warming when Francesca beams at you.

“I’ll have to ask Anthony but I would love to!” she says. “I would have to go to Daphne and Eloise to tell them. Thank you for fixing my hair!”

You sat back on the couch afterwards, enjoying a moment of peace and quiet. You were thinking of all the preparations you might have to do when they do decide to visit. Your eyes darted to a sound and watched the Viscount sit down beside you. While he settled, you closed your eyes. The social season was tiring and it was hard to find rest sometimes.

“You haven’t been here for an hour. Why do I hear Fransesca talking to Daphne and Eloise about a possible visit?” he asked, closing his eyes to rest. He’s been cooped up in his study for hours to oversee the estate.

“She’s right. Maybe not soon, though,” you replied, voice soft. “I’m so tired.”

“Me too,” he says and no words were spoken. The noise outside the house was forgotten now. Your and his even breathing both lulled you to sleep and it was your mothers who found you and Anthony’s heads leaning on each other, just like you did when you were kids.

Anthony has been occupying all of the spaces inside your head recently. Sometimes, you were scared that your mind was projecting him because he’d always be there. You’d walk in the hallways and hear him laughing with you father. You’d be in town with your maid and he’s there, inviting you for gelato. You’d go home with a faint smile playing on your lips before reminding yourself that it was Anthony.

“Miss, the Viscount Bridgerton is here to see you,” your maid says. She took note of how you immediately smiled. “He’s been here…a lot,” she teased.

“We are friends, Mary. Of course, he’d be here,” you told her. “Besides, we grew up together,”

“Of course…but…”

“What?” you asked, fixing the tendrils of hair on your face. “Do I look alright?”

“Since when did you think about how you looked in front of Viscount Bridgerton?” she teased, laughing when your mouth was open agape. She had a point. “If it’s any consolation, you look amazing. I’m sure the Viscount would think you look amazing…if he doesn’t already,”

Confusing feelings that you nursed plagued you. Every now and then, you’d feel flustered when you felt his eyes on you. It was funny, really but what’s funnier was how everyone seemed to know but the two of you. Nothing escapes anyone, especially Lady Danbury who, along with the Bridgertons, visited your house for dinner.

You were all over the table, quiet as you heard murmurs from everyone. Your mother was talking to her friends while your father talked to Benedict and Colin about their travels. It seemed as though the only people who weren’t speaking were you and Anthony. You looked around the dining table, trying to listen in on all kinds of conversations when your eyes landed on the Viscount. He was already looking at you, a teasing smile on his face and you felt your cheeks warm. You looked away quickly, sipping on your lemonade, never noticing that his eyes were still glued on you.

“You both have to do something about those children of yours,” Lady Danbury commented, her eyebrow raised expectantly. “Do you think they’re fooling anyone at all? I’ve seen how they stole glances from one another. It was not subtle,”

“I know,” Violet agreed. “I’ve seen Anthony look at her. Really, all his siblings seem to know too,”

“Y/N is the same,” your mother added. “She’s always off to run with Anthony. Have you noticed?”

Meanwhile, you were all in the garden. Benedict and Eloise were huddled together in the swings while you were laying on the picnic blanket. You didn’t care if it seemed appropriate. They were the Bridgertons, they never minded. You were looking up at the stars when Anthony blocked the view. A mischievous idea pops inside your head and you extended your arm upwards.

“Anthony, will you help me up?”

Anthony takes your hand but before he helps you, you pulled him down, sending him flat on the space beside you.

“You’re dead!” he exclaims as you run away from him.

“Benedict, help me!” you called, as you increase your speed.

“Don’t you dare, brother,” Anthony threatens, running after you. His heart fills with warmth when he heard your boisterous laugh. You were so carefree and so joyful.

Your screams rang through the garden when Anthony’s arms wrap around your waist. You looked at him, laughing.

“You really shouldn’t be doing that,” he scolds, tickling your sides. “Stop squirming! That’s your punishment!” he laughed, tickling you more. Suddenly, you both stopped, noticing the close proximity between the two of you. Your faces were inches away from each other and you both looked away, coughing. Unknown to you two, his siblings were smiling in amusement.

“Eloise!” you called. “Didn’t you want me to help you with something? Let us go,”

Anthony could only watch while you scurry off with Eloise and his sisters somewhere.

“Scandalous, is it not, brother?” Colin teased which earned him a light shove from the Viscount. His siblings watched him follow you with amusement. Someone has to do something about the two of you.

“What was that?” Eloise asked you when you reached your bedroom.

“Was what?” you feigned innocence. Daphne was with the two of you, sitting on your bed with her eyebrow raised.

“Everybody saw that,” Daphne said. “You know, it’s no harm to tell us about how you feel towards Anthony. The attraction is so obvious!”

“I agree with Daphne,” Eloise added. “While I do think that marriage is a trap, I fully support you marrying into our family. You’re good to us and Daphne’s right. There’s attraction there,”

“Since when did you girls know about attraction?” you mused. “You lot are still young,”

“Seems like we’re less clueless than you are,” Francesca teased, making thr girls giggle.

“Anthony is agitating,” you relent. “He’s kind and playful,”

“What is it that you look for in a husband?” Daphne asked, playing with a dainty necklace that you gifted her before.

“Someone kind and well, I’d love it if it feels like we’ve known each other forever. Sometimes, you get that feeling, you know? Like you’ve known them for a lifetime and everything just falls into place.” you said. “Someone who understands…someone patient. I’d like to marry someone who can make me laugh. I’d like to have a big family and marry someone coming from one…oh, dear,” you muttered. You were describing Anthony Bridgerton.

“That sounds a lot like…”

“Anthony!” Daphne gasped, seeing the man on your doorway. “What are you doing here?”

“Mother is looking for you girls,” he says, looking expectantly at his sisters.

“Anthony, you always ruin the fun!” Eloise glared. “We were having girl talk, if you weren’t aware,”

“It’s alright, Eloise,” Daphne says. “Let us go and let them have a moment of privacy,”

Eloise could only scowl at Anthony while Daphne ushers her out. Anthony breathes a sigh of relief as he looks ar you for permission.

“May I?”

“Of course, Anthony.” you smiled. “Come in. Did you need anything?”

Anthont doesn’t answer. Instead, he locks the door behind him. You gape as he walked nearer, until you were face to face. You were close again and you could feel him.

“Is something the matter?” you asked softly. “Would you tell me?”

“I heard what you told my sisters,” he replied, his voice just as soft. “Is it true? That the man you’re looking for sounds exactly like me?”

“Anthony—“

“If you must know, I feel the same.” he said. “I’ve been putting these emotions away from me because you once said that you were in no rush to get married. I thought that if I waited for you long enough, then you’d want to be married to me but I cannot wait any longer. Did you know how miserable I was when I thought that you and Sir Alfred were courting? I set it off for you but I am a selfish man and I cannot wait any longer. So tell me, is it true?”

You felt your throat constrict when Anthony’s gaze drops on your lips. Should you kiss him right now to convey your emotions?

“It is,” you replied. “But I’ve been keeping my emotions at bay because I feel the same,”

Anthony beams.

“Say it,” he whispers. “Say what you feel.”

“I love you, Anthony,” you replied. Anthony takes your head and kisses you deeply. You felt every emotion there is; inching your face closer to the roughness of his calloused hand. He moves away slowly and lays you down on your bed; him crawling on top of you to attach his lips on yours again.

“I love you too,” he mumbles softly, kissing the soft skin under your ear. Anthony would’ve liked it better if he could hear the soft whimpers that came from you. He trails down to your neck, and then the hemline of your chest. “I love you…so much. Tell me you love me,”

“I love you,” you whine.

“If you let me, I’d still want to court you properly and formally. Will you let me?” he whispered.

“We’re way past courting if you’re kissing me like this,”

“Do you want me to stop?”

“Never.”

(If you know who Alfred is based off of, comment to get a follow from me…u deserve it)

cc: @screechingdreamercollectorsblog @pink-lemo @lana-isabelle @evelyn3000 @simran1111 @marrilly @jemimah-b99 @goldeng1rl8 @lovely-him @wreckedsymphony @silvermistt @rexit-mo @chazubagi @freyathehuntress @flourishandblotts-inc @ @bellaiscool @rayodesol97 @munsonology @miyababbby @jesslexi1170

#anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton imagine #anthony bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton #anthony bridgerton fluff #anthony bridgerton fanfic #fluff #oneshot #one shot #imagine

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detailtilted · 14 days

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NEW Enhanced Edition - CHICON 2008 - J2 Main Panel

youtube

Direct link.

My latest video is now up. About half the footage I used came from what AgtSpooky sent me. To the best of my knowledge, that video isn't available on YouTube, so this is a version of the panel that newer fans may not have seen. It was captured at a different angle from the other videos on YouTube, often with a more direct view of Jared's and Jensen's faces, and it has better video quality, especially after upscaling. I cut to other footage as necessary, like when audience heads obstructed the view, in an attempt to provide the best view available at all times.

Before/after comparison photos...

Click to enlarge and get the full impact of the improvement.

A recap for anyone not familiar with this project…

In December 2023, I started this project to enhance old convention videos. I'm upscaling the videos and making other visual improvements, adding extra content to clarify various references, and adding good color-coded subtitles so you can better understand the sometimes-chaotic audio.

My goal is to publish the best, most complete, and most watchable versions of these older convention panels yet seen, but this is only possible thanks to the fans who captured the footage in the first place and were generous enough to share it with other fans. If I used videos I found on YouTube, my video descriptions on YouTube will always contain a link to my sources.

If you have any old convention videos you'd be willing to contribute to this project, please message me! Even if your videos are on YouTube, the original files, if you still have them, may upscale much better. If I can get them to upscale, I'd happily send the upscaled files back to you for your own collection whether I use them or not.

#j2 #jared padalecki #jensen ackles #supernatural #sam winchester #dean winchester #enhanced edition con video #chicon 2008

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sanjisprincesswifey · 1 year

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it's been a long, long time ⋆ sanji x reader

summary: a certain song reminds sanji how much he missed you

♡: post whole cake island sanji (sort of spoilers for this arc). female reader. 700+ words. sfw. spotify link.

a crack of thunder has sanji’s eyes fluttering open, immediately scanning the room he had been sleeping in. relieved, his heart calms when he sees luffy, chopper, and brook all asleep in their bunks.

he cradles his pillow underneath his head, bringing the blanket to his face in a child-like manner. since returning from whole cake, it was not the first night he had been easily startled awake and left in the dark by himself. not even luffy’s snore (that was just as violent as his appetite) could provide the cook any comfort in alleviating his feeling of loneliness.

after tossing and turning for ten more minutes, the drowsiness vanishes with each painfully slow second that passes. too many uncomfortable sleeping positions are attempted until sanji decides that sleep was no longer an option.

the gentle raindrops catch in his blond hair as he scoots along to the kitchen, confused when he noticed the dim light creeping from underneath the door.

he’s compelled to knock before he enters, pushing the door when he hears shuffling coming from the other side.

“sanji?” you say, stepping towards him cautiously after having identified his unusually disheveled state. he neither moves or responds to you as you take his hand and shut the door behind him. “are you okay?” you hopelessly ask.

you already knew that he wasn’t.

a few raindrops fall from his wet hair as he shakes his head no. he leans into your body as you guide him to a chair at the counter, whimpering when you pull away.

“can i finish the dishes? i’ll bring you with me to the crow’s nest when i’m done,” you offer, brushing his bangs back from his face.

both of his curly brows soften, and the corners of his lips rise slightly, signaling that was a yes.

you kiss the spiral of eyebrow before returning to your incomplete chore.

sanji hadn’t noticed the radio transponder snail that had been on, now playing soft jazz for both of your enjoyment.

with his head in his hand, he leans against the counter happily watching as you took on the role he had always provided you. usually, it was you who sat in this seat, waiting for him to be done with the dishes so you could accompany the other for the night watch shift. now that he thinks about it, this is the first time this scenario had occurred since coming back.

a tear rolls down his face from the combined romance of such a bittersweet moment and the guilt from the events that transpired for you to get to this point.

the beginning few notes of a song begin to play as both your head shoot up and glance over to the radio.

neither of you speak as you dry your hands and without missing a beat, sanji stands up and walks over to you, collapsing into your awaiting arms. his head leans on your shoulder while his arms wrap tightly around your waist. your grip is much looser when you wrap your arms around his neck, running a hand through his hair.

sanji hums lightly to the music the two of you sway back and forth, light sniffles following as his body shakes ever so slightly.

you can feel his whole body relax when you whisper the lyrics along with him. his trembling hands hold you so fearfully, but you understood why and didn’t mind the pressure anyway.

“i was so scared,” he admits. his whole body is like jelly in your hands, completely dependent on you as his sobs become less and less silenced. “it was so dark there,” he cries, “i…i thought i lost you.”

you nod your head, your chest aching at each remorseful word. despite how much you had told him, sanji wouldn’t stop blaming himself. you knew he’d react this way, it was just the type of guy he was. you would always come first to him, even when he was forced to relive the pain and trauma his childhood had brought upon him.

unfortunately, you understood there wasn’t much you could do for him at this point besides love him, which wasn’t a difficult task to accomplish.

you run your hands through his hair, coddling him as the song hits the chorus. “haven’t felt like this, my dear, since can’t remember when,” you whisper, which begins to calm his panicked sobs.

you place a kiss on his head, “don’t worry,” you coo, as he picks his head up to look into your eyes. “i’ve got you now, my dear,” you hum as you cradle his face in between your hands, leaning in to place a delicate kiss on his lips.

like, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated! (✿◠‿◠)

#black leg sanji #sanji x reader #sanji imagine #one piece #one piece x reader #one piece imagine

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matan4il · 5 months

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Daily update post:

Yesterday, there was a terrorist attack, two people were stabbed in the area where my mom's cousin and his wife live. I found out about it as I was returning from a medical appointment, going through a road where in Nov, a terrorist shot to death a young Israeli man.

Based on what the IDF has found of Hamas' armaments (which surpassed Israeli estimates), based on how things stand now, Hamas would be capable of continuing to fire rockets into Israel for at least 2-3 more years. That's why, even as the fighting continues, there are new defensive measures that will be built along road 232, the same road mentioned in the NYT's article about the Hamas rapes during the Oct 7 massacre.

Speaking of that article, apparently despite the insane amount of evidence in it, and mentioned recently in regards to the subject of the rapes, some are trying to deny that this part of the massacre happened. This is a perfect response (IMO) from feminists.againstantisemitism on IG:

Cyberwell, a watch dog that monitors antisemitism on social media, has reported a sharp rise in antisemitic posts since Oct 7. And not just of the new, anti-Zionist kind. There has been a rise in 1000% in posts accusing Jews of killing Jesus (yes, the Jew crucified by Romans almost 2,000 years ago... funny how you never see people going around saying Italians killed Jesus... almost like the whole thing isn't about who actually killed Jesus, and more about providing yet another excuse for antisemitism, a hatred that pre-dates Jesus), and 1600% in the hashtag saying that Hitler was right, the guy whose antisemitic, genocidal ideology, the attackers, maimers, rapists, kidnappers and murderers of Oct 7 would happily co-sign. All of this, while the world appropriates the Jewish slogan "never again" to use against Jews defending themselves. Make it make sense.

And here's a reminder that what starts online, doesn't stay online. There have been unprecedented levels of antisemitism in many places, including in New Zealand. What got to me the most is the report on antisemitic incidents targeting school kids, and that only 40% of parents report these (sometimes 'coz previous cases have not been treated right, or the school is seen as being ill-equipped to deal with antisemitism). A 2021 survey found that 60% of New Zealanders agreed with antisemitic statements, so it might be argued that this recent outburst has been waiting to happen for a while, just waiting for an excuse to.

Here's another piece that I sadly could only find in Hebrew so far. It reveals some more of the interrogations of Hamas terrorists, this time covering how Hamas terrorizes civilians in Gaza. Here's my loose translation of a testimony's summary, from a Palestinian Islamic Jihad terrorist (Muhammed Darwish Amare). It can be found (with the full testimony in the vid and appearing) at the above link: "Someone told me that they took explosives, to place them from his apartment to a spot 2 meters (6.5 feet) away from him. The man came down and told [the terrorist]: 'Oh man, how are you placing the explosives by the door, and then if they explode, my kids and I will be gone.' He responded, 'If you don't like it, then get out of here.' The apartment owner said to him, 'These are my kids, this isn't right,' and the explosives placer replied, 'I will lay them even if you don't like it, and I will even place them between you and your wife.' Then he took out his pistol and shot the apartment owner in the leg."

Another testimony, found at the same link, this one is of a former Hamas member (Zuhady Ali Zahdy Shahi): "I felt that we civilians are human shields. Why should we protect them? We want to be saved, too. That's Hamas' mistake. People left their house [during the fighting], and there was a safe passage, because the army told us to go south, that there will be food and water there. They drew a safe passage for us, and then we ran into [Hamas terrorists], who made us go into one of the neighborhoods. They told us, 'No one is going south, there are bombings, and no one can continue on the street.' We went into the Shifa hospital, and we got stuck inside. [The terrorists] sat among us, with the civilians. They were scared of the soldiers. I even argued with one of them, and told him, 'Your place isn't here, with the civilians, but downstairs [in the terror tunnels].' He told me that the moment the war would be over, he will punish me, he started threatening me." When asked what he thought of the IDF, Shahi said, "Truth is, based on what I've seen, I wish you would stay with us. If they would have stayed where we lived, we wouldn't be starving. The moment the army came into Shifa, we were scared of what would be done with us, but it was the opposite. They brought us food and water, and sat with us. We felt safe."

This is 56 years old Ilan Weiss.

His 53 years old wife Shiri and 18 years old daughter Noa were kidnapped by Hamas, and released in the hostage deal. Ilan himself, who was a member of the emergency team at kibbutz Be'eri, left his house on the morning of the massacre, as first reports came in, and wasn't heard of again. He was considered missing (meaning, it was unknown whether he was kidnapped or killed on Oct 7). Today it was announced that his body was identified, and he had been murdered during the massacre. May his memory be a blessing.

(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)

#israel #israeli #israel news #israel under attack #israel under fire #terrorism #anti terrorism #antisemitism #hamas #antisemitic #antisemites #jews #jew #judaism #jumblr #frumblr #jewish

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iamfitzwilliamdarcy · 2 days

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ok the evolution of Katniss and having kids post:

Katniss is thinking from the earliest moments of the book how she never wants kids. This is Chapter 1, even before the Reaping, when Gale mentions running away, if they didn't have so many kids, obviously here, he's referencing their siblings, but then this exchange happens:

"I never want to have kids," I say. "I might, if we didn't live here," says Gale. "But you do," I say, irritated. "Forget it," he snaps back.

This is literally page 9 in my copy from the library. Katniss has been thinking about how much they provide for their siblings already and she's also just given us exposition on her own parents-- her grief for her father and her resentment of her mother; it's also setting Gale up as a potential romantic partner, which Katniss readily rejects and is confused by the conversation at all (girly, you brought it up)

Again, in the first book, Katniss thinks she will never have children. This is nearing the end of the games-- it's just her and Peeta and Cato left-- and while Peeta sleeps, she lets herself for the first time think about making it home and what her future would be.

I think of Haymitch with all his money. What did his life become? HE lives alone, no wife or children, most of his waking hours drunk. I don't want to end up like that. 'But you won't be alone,"I whisper to myself. I have my mother and Prim. Well, for the time being. And then... I don't want to think about then, when Prim has grown up, my mother passed away. I know I'll never marry, never risk bringing a child into this world. Because if there's one thing being a victor doesn't guarantee, it's your children's safety. My kids' names would go right into the reaping balls with everyone else's. And I swear I'll never let that happen.

I included the long version and not just the part about never marrying, because Katniss recognizes she risks being alone forever. For her, even though it's terrible, it's better than having a child in this world, a world that is so horrific and threatening. She also automatically links marriage to having kids (as is natural), which complicates her relationships with both Gale and Peeta.

Catching Fire starts with a similar vein, but one Katniss now has to confront-- in order to keep those she loves safe, she will have to marry Peeta and live happily ever after with him. She wonders if President Snow will insist on them having babies, thinks it's likely a child of hers will end up in the arena because Victors' children sometimes do and Gale suspects the drawings are rigged. She reflects again on Haymitch's situation --unmarried, no children, wasted all the time-- and likens it to self-imposed solitary confinement.

Later, we get the fake baby drop, of course, and Katniss, processing, thinks "Isn't it the thing I dreaded most about the wedding, about the future-- the loss of my children to the Games? And it could be true now couldn't it? If I hadn't spent my life building up layers of defenses until I recoil at even the suggestion of marriage or a family"

We're still on the same track, the recognition of her fear of having kids in the world she lives in. Interestingly, I think it's still a loss of her children to the Games, but a less painful one-- nonexistent, possible children that she'll never have.

Peeta later is trying to convince Katniss to be the one of them to survive by talking about her family back home, and when he doesn't mention the pregnancy, she knows he's being sincere. He even mentions Gale and Katniss takes it in a way that means he would be okay if she wanted to be with Gale. He transitions back to playing the Games by telling Katniss, "You're going to make a great mother you know."

Katniss then wonders if it could be more than just a Games manipulation-- "Like a reminder to me that I could still one day have kids with Gale? Well, if thatw as it, it was a mistake. Because for one thing, that was never part of my plan."

It's HERE that we get a bit of a kicker-- she thinks about how of the two of them, Peet is the one who should be a parent. And she imagines his children--

As I drift off, I try to imagine that world, somewhere in the future, with no Games, no Capitol. A place like the meadow in the song I sang to Rue as she died. Where Peeta's child could be safe.

I think it's the first time she's considered the possibility of a safe child, and it has to be Peeta's child. This isn't something she ever imagines about anyone else, even when she thinks about running away with Gale.

Children are a sign of hope, of a possibility of living in a world where they won't be sacrificed on the altars of the Capitol. In Mockingjay, Katniss frequently notes that District 13 has very few children, especially following an illness, and that children appear to be prized -- it's partially why it's hard for her to initially accept that the rebels would bomb children- recklessly, wastefully

But it's the epilogue of Mockingjay, where this all culminates-- where her hope finds fruition. She says "Peeta wanted them so badly," but it takes years for her stop dreaming and start trusting that she's made that world, where her children, where Peeta's children "take the words of the song for granted"

It's a perfect ending, because from the start Katniss has denied herself even the hope of children, develops to thinking maybe that it could be possible one day-- for someone as good as Peeta, and that maybe his children could be safe, at least-- and in the end, his children--her own children--are no longer a hope, but Real.

#the hunger games #katniss everdeen #everlark #long post #thg

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kira-broflovski · 1 year

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kenny + kyle hcs: their s.o always needing physical affection

note: characters are 18+

KENNY ☆

oh look you're twinning.

you cannot tell me this mf isn't touch-starved and always wanting your affection.

he was ecstatic when you told him physical touch was your main love language, because he would restrain himself in case he made you uncomfortable.

but to now find out you like it?

the two of you are practically joined at the hip from that moment onwards.

taking a nice walk? holding hands. trying to get through a busy area? tugging onto you so you don't separate. hanging out with friends? his arm is already slung around your shoulder.

god forbid anyone is trying to get with you.

he will shamelessly snake his arms around your waist, only for you to lean further back into him.

if the person doesn't get the hint he will just kiss you then and there, but that usually works just fine.

when you're hanging out in your room, the two of you end up napping in each other's arms. it's just so peaceful!!

long story short, he happily provides you with all the physical affection you could possibly need as long as you do the same.

KYLE ☆

i can see him being more awkward about it, not that it makes him feel uncomfortable or anything.

if anything it's the opposite, he doesn't want to make you uncomfortable by somehow messing it up.

bless him, he's trying.

you would probably have to initiate it, but he's happy to help you in any way he can,, even if that help is to let you cling onto his arm while sat next to him.

he'd probably freeze up at sudden intimacy but then just be like "oh :)"

if you're hanging out with the others, you'd likely just have your pinkies linked and be sat next to each other.

when you're in the privacy of your bedrooms it's a different story. if you get out of bed to go to the bathroom, he'll be dramatic until you're back in his arms

"you left me frozen in this bed."

"i was gone for like 5 minutes."

#kenny mccormick #kyle broflovski #kenny mccormick x reader #kyle broflovski x reader #headcanons #south park #south park headcanons #south park x y/n #fluff #south park fanfiction #south park x reader

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loki-cees-all · 3 months

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Fiji {James Conrad x Female Reader Drabble}

Cee's James Conrad Fic Masterlist / AO3 Link

Pairing : James Conrad x Female Reader

Summary : A much-needed vacation for you and Conrad leads to nothing but lots of skin, sunshine, and the bluest blue you’ve ever seen.

W/c : 1.5k words

Content / Warnings : Established relationship, skinny-dipping, hurt/comfort (focus on the comfort for a change), some lingering angst, and just a touch of smut.

18+ Only - Minors DNI

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Daylight had only broken two hours prior, but you were already in the ocean.

The bright cerulean sky overhead blended seamlessly with the crystal blue water below. At your shoulders, gentle and warm waves lapped at your skin, and in the distance, the calls of the local parrot finches provided the perfect soundscape for the island. Deep below the water’s surface, docile sand soothed the aching muscles of your feet, and if you submerged yourself completely in the water, you’d be able to see for almost a mile along the ocean floor.

That is, if you were interested in thinking about anything besides the gorgeous man wrapped around you.

Conrad had grumbled when you’d woken him up so early, just barely four hours after setting up camp and passing out on the vacant beach together. The face he’d made while trying desperately, and failing, to pull you back into the sleeping bag was infuriatingly adorable. But once his eyes had opened enough to see you happily stripping for a naked morning swim, his attitude had changed almost instantly.

“Is this what you had in mind when you demanded a midnight boat ride to Tivoa Island?” Conrad had grinned as he peeled off his t-shirt and began working on his jeans. His hungry eyes were glued to your frame as you pulled your tank top overhead and then shimmied your shorts down your hips; his fingers, not quite as awake as his eyes were at that point, had fumbled with the buttons, struggling to free himself fast enough and catch up with you.

You had laughed in response, walking backwards towards the water, taunting him with your nude form and an innocent smile on your lips. “I didn’t demand anything, darling. I politely requested that you find someone to give us a lift, that’s all.”

The water was up to your knees by the time Conrad managed to catch up with you, wrapping his strong arms around your waist and lifting you up into a backwards bearhug. And you had squealed with delight as he buried his nose in your neck and began to move you both deeper into the healing waters.

“If I had known that this little excursion was going to include skinny-dipping, I would have found us a ride a lot sooner than midnight, my dear…” he had murmured against your skin, breathing in your scent and running his hands along your hips once you lowered you back to your feet.

Conrad’s touch was heavenly - his skin was so soft and soothingly warm, his every muscle so steady and strong against your back. At that moment, you were happier than you’d ever been.

You’d already spent ten whole days and nine entire nights with him - every minute was kept all to yourselves, and there were absolutely no interruptions. But still, neither of you could keep your eyes and hands off each other the entire time. This was by far the longest you’d spent together since that very first meeting back in Saigon, and the entire trip had been nothing short of perfection - exploring new places and cultures along the islands of Fiji by day, and making considerable amounts of love by night. Everything the soul needed to set itself right again.

Conrad hadn’t been sold on the idea of a vacation when you first broached the subject; he was a working man by birth, a desperate martyr looking for some way to be of use, and never one to turn down a job that needed doing. Whether any particular job actually needed doing was always up for debate, in your opinion, and after the tragedy on Skull Island, you were prepared to become relentless in your insistence that he needed to rest.

But much to your surprise, he had immediately given in. He acquiesced, without any further struggle or argument, and took you up in your offer to travel for pleasure instead of pain. Because something horrible on that island had finally broken him, and it killed you to see it.

Initially, he hadn’t wanted to discuss it at all…much in the same way he never wanted to talk about the war. You didn’t want to pry or to push in respect for his privacy, but you knew whatever still haunted him was deep and painful haunting. Even months later, he still had nightmares, and he’d wake up with a start, bolting upright and shouting orders at the long lost ghosts of Skull Island.

And all you could do was hold Conrad tight, hoping that somewhere along the way, between the sun and the moon and the water, he’d finally be able to unburden himself.

It was the third night in Lautoka, while basking in the afterglow of the second round of lovemaking that evening, when he finally opened up about the horrors of that place. Conrad wasn’t usually one for being upfront about his feelings, especially the negative ones, but he actually admitted to being absolutely terrified, for what was probably only the fourth or fifth time in his entire life.

But he wasn’t necessarily scared of the monsters, or of the people - no, he had been frightened of never seeing you again. Of never getting to hold you, or make love to you again - and that fear was something he just couldn’t continue living with. With you, there was just too much for him to lose. And if there was one thing trackers hated the most, it was being unable to regain something precious.

So now here you both were, standing back to chest in the Pacific Ocean, bathing in the sunlight and letting the waves purge away the aches and pains buried deep within both of your souls. Conrad was feeling so much better; he was smiling and laughing again, he was appreciating the little things, he was looking forward to the future. He was alive, and thus, so were you.

Because you were loved here, cradled in Conrad’s arms and floating amongst the waves of his heart. And he was safe here, protected by you and the sunshine and the gentle breeze, from every dark shadow and every monster that still lingered in his painful memories. The gentle breeze blew away the ashes of the past, and the graceful waves paved the way for a quiet, simple life.

Nothing could hurt either of you here, and absolutely everything could heal you.

Conrad squeezed your hips again as he pressed lazy kisses along your neck and shoulder, and you were suddenly reminded of the time constraints against you both. The boat would be heading back to Lautoka at exactly noon, and the docks were just under a half hour’s walk from the beach. As much as you’d love to spend another week on this remote and exquisite beach, the rest of your belongings and food were still tucked away in your room at the Seabreeze Hotel…

“We should probably get a move on, if we don’t want to miss the boat back…” you murmured reluctantly, even as your heart raced while his lips moved up to your ear. Conrad let out an enticing and teasing hum as he nibbled on your earlobe, and a shiver of excitement ran down your spine as he pressed himself harder against your backside.

“Yes, and we should probably have a snack before we go…” Conrad’s fingertips dipped between your thighs, grazing you softly with the most delicate of touches and leaving your brain short-circuiting in bewilderment.

“I think there’s, uh…crackers…in my bag…” you breathed heavily, feeling lost in his touch again. Conrad’s fingers matched the gentle ocean waves as they pushed and withdrew, gathering up any leftover anguish and leaving nothing except euphoria in their wake.

He continued that motion for a few more moments, winding you up for another beautiful release. Your head fell back against his shoulder and your lips parted with heavy breaths as your hips rolled with his fingers. Just as you were about to come, your fingernails dug into his forearms and you moaned his name in just the way he liked.

But shockingly, right when you were on the edge of an incredible orgasm, Conrad completely withdrew his fingers and scooped you up bridal style instead. You gasped in surprise and your brow furrowed with irritation at the sudden reversal he'd pulled on you. But as you hooked an arm around his shoulder and looked up into his glittering blue eyes, at those irises shining brighter than the ocean and the sun combined, your heart outright stopped in your chest, like you were seeing him for the very first time again.

Conrad’s skin had grown so very tan from the sun, and so very soft from all the salt in the atmosphere. As his skin had grown tanner, new and more impressive freckles had popped up along his high cheekbones and broad shoulders. His beautiful eyes sparkled in the bright light reflecting off the water - the bluest blue you’d ever seen - and you could have sworn he’d acquired several new laugh-lines since this much-needed vacation had begun.

He was healing. He was whole again, and the ocean had done that for you both. The ocean forces you to let go of everything holding you down, so you could focus on clinging to what was actually important. Nothing else on this planet could ever compare to the ocean’s power.

Conrad just laughed as he carried you back to shore. “Oh, let me assure you, darling…It’s not food I’m hungry for.”

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Click here to be added to my James Conrad fic tag list! 💙

#james conrad #james conrad x reader #james conrad x female reader #james conrad x reader smut #james conrad smut #james conrad imagine #james conrad fanfiction #james conrad x you #james conrad x y/n #captain james conrad fic #captain conrad #captain conrad smut #james conrad hurt/comfort #conrad hurt/comfort #cee writes

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lambtotheslaughterr · 20 days

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I Burn : Part Nine

A Rafe Cameron Mini Series

[THIS STORY WILL CONTAIN THEMES OF NON-CON/DUB-CON, MENTAL-EMOTIONAL-PHYSICAL ABUSE, ETC. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK. 18+. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT]

WC: 3.6k

Dividers provided by @firefly-graphics

PART EIGHT | MASTERLIST | FINALE

IMPORTANT NOTE* hey ya’ll! just a reminder that my requests are OPEN. please read this POST before making any requests as i have rules in place. there are three spots left (which you will see at the bottom of the linked post). so get your requests in if you’re wanting to use me;p

You twirled in your hotel bathroom, admiring your dress in the mirror. A bright smile on your face. You were looking forward to the night. Your dad, having won his lawsuit against John a little over a month ago, was attending a charity gala & your mother was unable to attend as she was busy with work. So, your father had asked if you would be date. You happily accepted.

Ever since you left the facility two months ago, your relationship with your father had improved. He had made a complete 180 in light of Dr. Mooney’s assault charges. Your father had apologized to you, a genuine one, hugging you & holding you, promising he would never let another man let you down, let alone himself. It was all you could ever truly want, to be accepted by your father. Now, more than ever, your father-daughter relationship was thriving.

After you accused Dr. Mooney of rape, the investigators were quick to get to work. They completed a rape kit on you which did indeed prove that there was a recent intrusion. There had been no DNA of course since you made Rafe wear a condom, but the bruises that formed on your upper arms matched Dr. Mooney’s hand size, & those bruises were indeed from him. From when you quite perfectly framed him as he held you down on the couch.

What solidified the case more so, however, because Dr. Mooney pleaded innocent, was Albert’s testimony. He revealed the rumor about Dr. Mooney & a former patient that he had told you about. After a deep dive into the allegations, it was revealed that Dr. Mooney did have a relationship with the former patient, though she insisted it was consensual. But the nurse who was with you most of that fateful day, Nurse Graham, played the part of witness, sharing that she overheard Dr. Mooney & yours conversation in your room right before you went to his office. The case was solid & closed. Dr. Mooney was effectively removed from his position at Arrowhead & was sentenced to three years in prison. It wasn’t as long as you would have preferred, but you were content with it. Dr. Mooney had gotten what he deserved. You had won.

Of course, you were forced to play the victim for some time, isolating yourself, struggling to talk in therapy. But as the weeks passed, you felt safe to open up more, to be yourself again. No one questioned the truth. Sometimes, very rare times, you did feel guilty for changing the course of Dr. Mooney’s life. It was no surprise that his affair with Nurse Carney was revealed, ultimately leading to his wife leaving him. He was completely alone. And you were free, surrounded by those who swore to love you just as you were.

What ate away the most at you was how there were countless rape victims out there, real rape victims, whose cases were going unjustified. That you conjured up the whole case & succeeded in getting an innocent man imprisoned. But you argued to yourself that Dr. Mooney was a shitty person, that he deserved some sort of consequence for his lies & false authority. It was a win to you, & that’s all you really cared about.

Fortunately, you didn’t think on it much. After Dr. Mooney was removed from the facility, Dr. Frazer made the decision to close the Arrowhead for the summer, to hire new doctors & nurses, to re-write policies & protocols, to ensure that something like your case never happened again. It was the least he could do, after all.

So, with Arrowhead closed, Albert finally reached out. He was apologetic for his coldness to you in those last days, but you reassured him that you didn’t blame him. You had called him weak, after all. But the two of you would talk on the phone every now & then. He was near the end of his program when Arrowhead closed so he was given the ‘okay’ to re-enter life in the real world. He & his boyfriend moved in together & he was starting a new job as a drug counselor at the high school in his hometown. You were glad to have Albert back.

Grabbing your phone off the counter, you snapped a couple pictures of yourself in the gown you wore, sending them to Albert. He replied with heart eyes. You giggled, clicking your phone off. Just as you did, there was a light knock on your door.

“_____, it’s near time to leave. Are you about ready?” You father asked from the other side.

You touched up your hair just a tad before going to the door, opening it. You grinned up at your father in his black-tie suit. He looked handsome. You were glad to be on his arm that night.

“How do I look?” You asked, twirling yet again for him.

Your father grinned, his eyes taking you in, “You look beautiful.”

“Thank you, daddy.”

Your father offered his arm to you then, “The car is waiting downstairs.”

Quickly, you grabbed your Yves Saint-Laurent clutch & tangled your arm with your father’s. He led the two of you out of your hotel suite & to the elevators. On the ground floor out front, there was a sleek black sedan waiting for the two of you. Your father opened the back door for you as you slipped inside, sure to be careful not to catch your heel on the frame. Your father followed after you.

The town where the charity gala was being held was in a town you had never heard of. It was small but upper class, similar to the town you lived in. It was called Kildare & lied along the Atlantic coast. And even though the end of summer was nearing, you couldn’t feel it in the air. It was still warm out & the breeze from the ocean helped keep it cool. You had spent the day earlier today shopping along the boardwalks & indulging in the cute café’s. You were happy to be here with your father.

In the car, your father clacked away on his phone, likely responding to emails, so you just watched as the quaint little beach down passed you by. After about twenty minutes, the car pulled into a beautifully crafted country club. It had clearly been decorated for tonight’s event. There were lights tangled around the trunks of trees, a handful of elegantly crafted benches, & even a pearl colored carpet that invited guests would walk on as they entered the gala.

Yet again, your father offered his arm & you took it, admiring the building you were entering. You had no idea what the charity event was for but you didn’t really care to. You were just glad to be seen in public with your father after his lawsuit. Not that anyone knew about it since it wasn’t public knowledge, but you wanted people to see that your father was proud of the daughter he had on his arm.

Inside the venue, you were aghast at the fantastical elements of it. The interior & décor of it all made your heart leap with joy. It would be one of the first events you attended after returning home, family gatherings not included. You were more than ready to have fun, but of course, not too much fun.

Your father kisses you on your temple, releasing you, "I'm going to go find the host, why don’t you find us a table?”

“Okay.” You smiled.

Before finding a table, you chose to take a stroll though the gala. There were hundreds of people, everyone dressed to the nines. You easily fit in. It was a strange feeling but you welcomed it, nonetheless. Near the back of the spacious room was the many tables of food along with bowls of punch. You inspected your options, your eyes often returning to the desserts table. In the corner was an open bar. You desperately wished you were old enough to get yourself a glass of wine. And you were confident that they would give you one without checking for your ID, but with your father close, you didn’t want to risk disappointing him. Perhaps if you asked him first…

“Craving bubbly?”

The voice just behind you made you jump, as it was much too close. You spun around, expecting it to be a random guest speaking to another, but the eyes you met made you falter in your step.

“Rafe…” You breathed out unbelievably.

“Boo.” He smirked, his hands hidden inside the fitted formal pants he wore, “Ghost of Arrowhead’s past.”

“What are you doing here?” You asked, but your eyes quickly flashed around the room in search of your father.

“I should be asking you that. You’re on my turf, after all.”

That brought your attention back to him. You frowned, “Your turf?”

Rafe smirked, “Kildare. My home.”

A lump formed in your throat. What were the chances? Really? What were the fucking odds that the key to your rape accusation would be standing right before you. Far from Arrowhead.

“You’re looking a little sick, _____. Spooked?”

“No, no.” You shook your head but he was right. You were beginning to feel dizzy & nauseous. “It’s nice to see you.”

Rafe chuckled darkly at that. He took a step forward & you were quick to step away from him. But he continued walking past you to the nearby bar.

“Two glasses of the house red.” He ordered from the bar, but his eyes trailed back to you.

You felt rooted to your spot, unable to move away from him. Had you known that you were going to run into Rafe Cameron of all people, you would have stayed at the hotel.

The bartender handed Rafe the two glasses of wine. Rafe turned back towards you, offering you one of the glasses. You stared dumbly at the crimson liquid then at the hand holding the glass before trailing back to his eyes. He looked devious in the dimly lit space.

“I shouldn’t.”

Rafe stepped closer, his voice lower, “We shouldn’t do a lot of things, but that doesn’t stop us, does it?”

You gulped. With a shaky hand, you accepted the glass but didn’t take a sip. Your father be damned, you didn’t trust yourself to drink now. Not with the one person who knew the truth about your darkest secret.

Rafe tipped the glass, savoring the taste of the wine as he peered at you. You shifted uncomfortably under his stare.

“Well, it was nice seeing you.” You mumbled, “Thanks.”

You were about ready to spin away & run off but Rafe was quick to gently snatch your elbow. Your skin tingled & burned where his fingers grazed you.

“Running away? So soon?” Rafe clicked his teeth in disappointment, “The party is just beginning.”

All your fire & blissful independence evaporated as he held you close. He clinked his glass to yours, “Indulge.”

Knowing he wouldn’t let you go until you obliged, you were quick to bring the glass of wine to your lips. Uncaring of any potential curious stares, you quickly downed the wine, the smokey & sweet flavor going unappreciated as you swallowed it all. You released a breath of air, handing the glass back to him.

“I have to go.”

“Wait, wait, Cinderella.” Rafe tugged you closer. He tucked your empty glass under one of his arms as he used his free hand to reach for your face. You jolted back but he held you tight. You stared wide-eyed at him as his thumb brushed against your lower lip. When he pulled it away, you noted the stain of wine on his finger, mixed with the maroon color of your lipstick. Rafe stuck his thumb in his mouth, sucking the flavor. You felt your lips part as you watched the action.

“As good as I remember.” His eyes twinkled.

You ripped yourself away from him then, snaking your way through the plethora of people before you found your father. He was sitting at a table with a man & woman who looked familiar. But how could they? There would be no one here you would know. Or at least you thought that until Rafe appeared out of the depths of hell.

“Dad.” You tried to sound as normal as possible, but your heart was racing with panic.

“There you are.” He grinned proudly up at you, “_____, this is a friend of mine, Ward & his wife, Rose.”

You offered the couple a polite smile before moving to sit down next to your father.

“Your dress is beautiful, _____.” Rose, who was quite younger than her husband, commented.

“Thank you.” You replied softly.

Ward eyed you then. But it wasn’t the kind of eyeing you were accustomed to when it came to meeting new men. He looked at you as if he saw right through you, not like he was admiring your youthful beauty.

“My son was right, Harold. Your daughter is something.” Ward shared with your father, but his eyes never strayed from you.

Your father smiled at that, though it appeared force. All the while, you were confused by the comment.

“I’m sorry.” You chuckled awkwardly, “Your son?”

Then, like the phrase goes, speak of the devil & he shall appear, Rafe appeared just behind Ward & Rose.

“Oh.” You failed at hiding your distress.

“You two were at Arrowhead not too long ago.” Ward pointed out, but it wasn’t necessary. Of course you knew where you met Rafe.

Your father shifted in his chair, his eyes falling to Rafe’s as he took a spot on the other side of Rose, an empty chair just between the two of you. It was clear your father didn’t trust Rafe. So, why was he ‘friends’ with Ward?

You forced a smile, “Hello, Rafe.”

“_____.” Rafe returned, his voice thick with mischievousness.

“Rafe told us about how you were the only one friendly to him.” Rose commented, her smile bright as she said as such.

“She was definitely the most welcoming.” Rafe added, the tone in his voice playful.

You felt your father’s eyes on you but you made it point to not face him. You had only just gotten his trust & acceptance back not too long ago. You’d be damned if Rafe would ruin that.

“Rafe.” You said his name firmly, “Would you dance with me?”

Rafe’s eyes glinted under the light at your offer.

“I don’t think that’s the best idea, _____.” Your father said, though his voice was low. You met his eyes, seeing the uncertainty there, but you needed to get Rafe away from your father.

“Let the kids be kids, Harold. We’ve got business to discuss, anyway.” Ward leaned back in his chair, staring comfortably at both you & your father.

You could see the struggle occurring within your father but he ultimately inhaled sharply, nodding, “Stay where I can see you.”

“Harold,” Ward laughed loudly, “You baby her. She’s quite the grown woman as far as I can see.”

Your father ignored Ward’s passive aggressive comment, instead turning to you, “As I said, _____.”

“Of course, Dad.”

Rising from your chair, Rafe was quickly beside you, offering his arm. You reluctantly took it. As you did, you didn’t miss how Rafe’s father’s eyes never left the two of you as Rafe led the way to the dance floor.

On the dance floor, Rafe was swift in ensnaring one of your hands in his own before circling his arm around your waist, practically pressed your chest against his own.

Watch Me Burn by Michele Morrone began playing & Rafe moved your bodies in time with the music. It didn’t pass you by how fitting the music was in that exact moment. The song having been shot to stardom thanks to the erotic foreign films 365 Days. A trilogy focused on the tumultuous & tense sexual relationship between two people who shouldn’t be together. You had gotten yourself off to it a handful of times when they first came out. But now, you only felt extreme discomfort.

Rafe cocked his head, watching you intently as you looked everywhere but at him.

At the first chorus, Rafe twirled you before catching you firmly then dipping you. You stared hard at him.

“Bring back memories?”

He returned you upright, his hands finding your arms to drape them over his shoulders. His own hands found themselves on your hips. Despite the thick layers of the dress, you could feel his heat, & how it made your body feel like it was on fire.

“Why are you doing this?” You asked, your voice low so only he could hear you.

“Because I can.” He responded curtly.

You glared up at him as he pressed your more against him, his hands trailing along your lower back.

“That’s not a good enough reason.”

He chuckled at that, shaking his head knowingly, “And what was your reasoning?”

“For what?” You bit back.

Rafe narrowed his eyes, smirking, “You know exactly what.”

You pressed your lips together, licking them in distress. Rafe’s eyes flashed to the movement, his own lips parting.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Your voice shook.

He leaned forward until his lips were at your ear, “You’re a bad liar, _____.”

You gasped softly. It was foolish of you to think Rafe couldn’t put two & two together. He was an ass, but he wasn’t dumb.

“But you fooled the police.”

At the mention of the police, you attempted to shove yourself away, but Rafe was secure in holding you against him.

“I didn’t fool anyone.” You snarled. “What happened, happened.”

Rafe nodded, “If you say so.”

“I do.” You lowered your eyes, “You don’t know anything.”

Rafe hummed at that, “Maybe. But what I do know is that you gave me a going away gift at a very crucial time in your life. And Dr. Mooney’s.”

You stopped dancing. Rafe copied. The two of you stood still on the dance floor, staring hard at one another.

“I wonder what would happen to Dr. Mooney’s sentence if I came forward with what I know. With what we did.”

“You wouldn’t.” You dropped your arms from his shoulders.

“Watch me.”

Tearing away from him, you made to leave the floor but Rafe was, as always, quick like a snake to snatch your wrist. He yanked you back to him before he planted his mouth on yours. You cried softly into the kiss before catching his lower lip between your teeth & sinking them in.

Rafe ripped away, bringing his fingers to his lip. Blood spotted his fingertips.

“I forgot that you liked it rough.”

Unsettled at his comment, you stepped backwards, “Stay away from me. I mean it.”

Rafe glowered, a devilish smile gracing his unacceptable handsome features.

You spun away from him, desperate to create distance, but as you did, you didn’t miss the parting greeting he offered.

“No promises.”

The rest of the night you managed to avoid being within 10 feet of Rafe. He was always there though. Even when you couldn’t see him, you could feel his eyes burning into you, always watching you.

You stayed glued to your father’s side, & you were grateful that when you found him after your tense dance with Rafe that he was no longer with Ward Cameron. The whole night, you entertained small talk with your father’s acquaintances but never strayed. You barely even had the nerve to look around the room, fearful you’d meet the dangerous blues you were desperate to never see again.

It wasn’t until you & your father were in the car back to the hotel that you finally managed to relax, though Rafe’s threat still lingered heavily on your mind. Would he go so far as to totally counteract everything you had done? You wouldn’t put it past him.

But your relaxation was short-lived once in the hotel suite. Before you could disappear to your room for the night, to get plenty of sleep for the drive back home to Virginia Beach tomorrow. It wouldn’t be a long drive, less than two hours, but you wanted to sleep away the tension from the night’s event. Your father stopped you though.

“We’re extending our stay for another day.” He shared as he began to undo his tie.

You frowned, glancing at him, “How come?”

He sighed heavily, sitting down at the only dining table in the suite to unlace his shoes, “The Cameron’s invited us to dinner.”

You felt your heart falter. No.

“And I accepted. You’re expected to come with me.”

Your body began to shake, “Do I have to?”

“Yes, _____.” His voice was tense, & he wouldn’t look you in the eyes. Something was going on. He knew something you didn’t.

“But—”

“No buts, _____. You’re coming with me tomorrow evening & that’s final.” He stood up, unbuttoning the cuffs on his dress jacket. His eyes finally met yours. The look there felt like someone was pouring a bucket of Icelandic water over you. It was a look you knew well, one you hadn’t seen in a couple months. He knew. Your father knew.

“Okay, Daddy.” You mumbled as you felt your lips begin to shake.

“Now, go to sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Nodding once, you walked fast to your room, your head hung low.

In your room, you were quick to disappear into the bathroom, flicking the light on. Tears were already falling as you stared at yourself in the mirror. The novelty of the dress, of coming here with you father, of being the perfect daughter, had quickly rotted away.

You glared at yourself in the mirror, the ink from your eyeliner & mascara leaving smudged black trails along your cheeks. This wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be. Tomorrow, you would wake up & everything would be as it was. Your father would say your name with pride, he would be proud to call you his daughter. But no. You saw it coming & there was no stopping it.

Your father would see you exactly as you were. The Cameron’s would make sure of it.

drumroll please!!! the finale of I Burn is next. & it will be the end of another era. it's indeed a bittersweet feeling but i'm excited to begin writing The Taming featuring Clark Kent.

also, how was the dance scene? i really wanted to incorporate lyrics from the song to match their conversation but do it subtly. comments?

as always, please share your thoughts w me! i'm so so curious to hear your thoughts with the end near. please share w me via comments, reblogging w reviews, or dropping as ask.

thank you for reading!

beau<3

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