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khapaleaf · 1 year ago

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Arbitrary choices, a lot of exposition, anti-climactic endings, and no dialogue because I am a professional non-writer. This is all so bland and convoluted, but I still think it fits the tone of the quests in the game, plus I had a good time. Anyway, this is the Knight-Commander as companion meme thingy from this page by @dragonologist-phd, much appreciated.

Name: Nortelania “Tela” Nelandarin

Class: Slayer/Deliverer (of many hits and massive crits)

Appearance: A tall elven woman with a light, easily sunburned complexion, and pitch black eyes that contrast sharply against it. Her hair is a shade of strawberry blonde and is usually kept in a neat style during travel and combat (none of the game models really work); it reaches all the way down to her waist when it is not tied up, though it is unlikely for anyone to see her in that state. She is lean and fit, though relies more on dexterity and manoeuvrability than pure strength. Her base outfit is of a moss green colour with lighter gold and brown elements, as well as some white details. On the sleeves there are intricate sewn-on patterns that she wears proudly as a way of honouring her heritage.

Favoured Weapon/Equipment: Elven curve blade and medium armour

Top Skills: mobility, trickery, stealth, knowledge (world), perception

Alignment: Lawful good

General Personality: Initially, while it is clear that she is well-meaning and dutiful, she is a bit closed-off and rigid in her interactions, even if she is striving to be civil and polite. After she spends some time among the crusaders and gets used to the Commander and their inner circle, she begins to come out of her shell more. While still calm and largely introverted, she begins showing hints of a sense of humour that is either deadpan or surprisingly childish on occasion. It also becomes more apparent that she has an anxious and turbulent side that she tries but often fails to hide. This is caused in part by her indecisiveness when it comes to trying to find a proper balance between her desire to do good, and the need to do so within a structured, sometimes overly rigid system of either her own moral code, or society at large. She is often paralysed by the fear of making the wrong decision, and tends to ignore her intuition even if the latter offers the best if unlikely solutions to the problems she faces.

What traits/values do they admire? Loyalty, confidence, accountability, altruism, perseverance, playfulness, showing appreciation for the artistic pursuits and beginnings no matter how small they are in the grand scheme of things, being supportive and encouraging, patience.

What traits/values do they disapprove of? Overindulgence, abusing one's authority, excessive cruelty and violence, entitlement, lack of discretion, impatience, greed, disproportionate punishments, being dismissive of opposing viewpoints, chronic cynicism.

Are they affiliated with any deities? She is a devoted follower of Sarenrae, and believes in good intentions, kindness and second chances. She also thinks that the requirements for forgiveness should often be challenging, but also merciful enough in order to allow a person to seek redemption and rebuild their life should they turn over a new leaf. She is, however, merciless (though not cruel) towards those who deny their own guilt and wrongdoings.

What do they think of their role in the Crusades, and of sharing the Commander’s Mythic powers? What are their reasons for joining the commander’s party? Prior to joining the crusaders, she essentially operates as an adventurer who travels the lands with the goal of helping those who are helpless, or joining the cause of those whom she considers to be worthy and honest. She does not think that her contributions to the crusade efforts are in any way more essential than any other person's, but appreciates being given the chance to push back against the demonic forces alongside a worthy leader and their troops. Privately, she believes that joining the Commander in their fight against the demonic threat is a way for her to gain a degree of vindication from a grave mistake that took place in her past. She is understandably wary of the powers bestowed upon the Commander and even suggests that this may be somehow linked to the corrupted lands of the Worldwound, further urging the Commander to use these powers with caution. If the Commander assures her that they will be careful, she will confess that even though she is sceptical of the origins of the mythic powers, she cannot deny the benefits that come with the boost in their healing and combat abilities.

Who are their friends among the other party members? She is rather protective of Ember, and often indulges the younger elf whenever she asks for stories of adventure and exploration of far away lands. She also connects with Seelah on a more personal level due to their similar struggles, and they both try to lift each other’s spirits up whenever one of them is feeling down. Her relationship with Lann, Regill and Sosiel is respectful enough, and she always looks out for them both during and outside of battle, but she never managed to grow close to them in a more familial and sometimes readily affectionate manner as with the previous two. Finally, while she did not fully trust Arueshalae in the beginning, being a follower of Sarenrae, she was more than willing to help her follow the path of redemption, often having conversations about what it means to turn over a new leaf, and also supporting her in subtle ways.

What about rivals? She cannot deny that Camellia has a variety of useful skills, and the interactions between them are polite enough to the eye of a casual observer, though a person with high observational skills will notice a barely perceived undercurrent of animosity during their conversations. Privately, she believes that there is something deeply unsettling about Camellia and is relieved after her departure from the crusade. Her relationship with Greybor is tense, predominantly because she has a low opinion about the way he applies his skills and attempts to make everything about profit, rather than remaining open to the possibility of providing his services for a good cause without asking for a reward. Initially, she does not enjoy having Woljif around due to his shifty nature, although with time she comes to care for him (while still remaining annoyed by him) in a way an older sibling does for their mischievous younger brother.

Are they on any councils? If so, what sort of advice do they give? No (to be completely honest, I do not care for the council meetings as a player and always skip the dialogue to get to (what I think is) the better option; it doesn’t matter who suggested it and how, so I am not entirely aware what is expected from these discussions and solutions lol).

Where do they hang out in Drezen? In the Abyss? In Drezen she is found near the marketplace, either observing the townspeople or standing near the stairs close to Dorgelinda, giving some treats to her monkey familiar. In the Abyss she is found standing on the edge of the cliffs near the portal, looking towards what is seen of the floating city.

What are their idle animations? Clapping on her knee to call her monkey familiar towards her and allowing it to climb all the way to her shoulder (it is permanently by her side right from the moment of her recruitment, even though, yes, it shouldn’t be there in accordance with the rules until after level 10, I believe), straightening out the folds of her clothes, the generic elf animations.

If they’re taken to Areelu’s lab, what is their dream? She is sitting alone in a dark room, seemingly at peace, eyes closed and body unmoving, though she periodically opens her eyes and glances around – furtively at first, then with some evident distress, but she does not move away from the chair. Suddenly, a door appears behind her, and she clutches her hands together and closes her eyes tightly shut, giving it her all not to look back. Despite her aggravated state, the room begins to fill with light and colour until two elven figures appear by her side. It is not difficult to tell that these two are likely her parents, as the familial resemblance is evident to all. The man puts his hand on her shoulder, while the woman leans in to whisper into her ear, and the effect of these gestures forces Nortelania to open her eyes. She sees her parents and stares at them, eyes wide with disbelief, then buries her face into her mother’s shoulder and does not move for quite some time, while her father envelops them both in a tight embrace.

Do they advise the commander to abandon or keep their mythic powers? Her initial gut reaction is to abandon the powers, but she will leave the final decision to the Commander, naturally. If the Commander has shown that they are using the powers mindfully and without malicious intent, then she will encourage them to keep the powers on the Angel and Gold Dragon paths. The Azata will also get a positive response, though less keen. She is not entirely against the Aeon path, though she will remark that the Commander is losing both their spirit and themselves with this choice; if she is in an active romance on this path, she will attempt to break up, but the Commander can convince her not to with a successful medium difficulty persuasion check. She can be convinced to stay on the Devil and Demon paths by passing a fairly high persuasion check, though the romance will end regardless of whether the skill check was successful or not. She will leave the party on the Lich and Swarm-That-Walks paths.

How/when do they join the Commander’s party? She can be recruited in Act 1 sometime before the attack on the Defender’s Heart. Upon their return from one of the missions in the city, the Commander will be pulled aside by Irabeth and the latter will point toward an elven woman sitting at one of the tables and comment that a competent volunteer is willing to join their ranks. When approached, Nortelania will rise to her feet and greet the Commander with a small bow. She will readily offer her services to a good-aligned Commander, but she will be more hesitant to join an evil-aligned one because she will sense that they are more inclined to lead the crusaders for some kind of personal gain rather than being motivated by altruism. It will be possible to recruit her in the case of an evil Commander by passing a persuasion check by admitting that even though they may not be the most selfless person, they are still clearly the most qualified to lead the troops and defeat the demonic threat. In the case of a successful skill check she still remains sceptical, but will nonetheless become available as a party member. Otherwise, she will not be convinced that the Commander is being entirely honest with her about their goals and motivations, thus saying her goodbyes and making the choice to continue helping out in an independent manner, unaffiliated with the crusaders.

Describe their companion quest: There is a hidden counter for her quest, which is used to track whether she is pushed towards intuition (relying less on rigid rules, learning to accept her mistakes, being more assured and assertive but not harsh) or stringency (following strict rules, being less open to emotional vulnerability when dealing with various issues, being assertive but also critical of herself and others due to striving for perfection), with conversation choices geared towards either path provided both in her unique dialogues with the Commander, and in numerous other quest-related dialogues (for example, if she is along for Seelah’s quest in Act 2, and the Commander uses the “You’re both right in a way, and anyway, what’s been done can’t be undone” option, that will add to her intuition counter). Her quest is fairly straightforward and consists of three parts that should trigger in Acts 2, 3 and 5, though there is a hint of a problem in need of solving as early as her first conversation at the Defender’s Heart. If the Commander takes the time to have a conversation with her after her arrival, they will notice that, upon seeing them approach, she will quickly fold up a written note of some kind and tuck it away into one of her pockets. If asked about it, she will nonchalantly reply that it is a letter from her homeland while omitting further details. A passed perception check will open up the dialogue option to note that the contents of the letter seemed to make her anxious, and ask for further details about it. Hesitantly, she will make a comment about the Commander’s perceptive nature, but will ask to table the discussion for now as there are more pressing matters that need to be resolved before her private affairs.

In Act 2, there will be new dialogue options to discuss the letter at the camp. She will first explain that back in Kyonin, after a brief and middling career as an emissary that was cut short due to a fear of speaking and anxiety, she was instead recruited owing to her keen perceptive skills as an operative for a behind-the-scenes group that worked for the various courtly advisors and noble houses that saw the inherent value in traditional attitudes, but were not entirely opposed to change, so long as it was introduced into elven society gradually and by reasonable means that would avoid extremes in societal attitudes (the outside world, however, knew her as the curator for house Menaheran, in charge of cataloguing its extensive library and archive). One such job had her track a leader of a group that wished to break away from isolationist politics in a way that would cause societal unrest on various fronts. While she did manage to track the leader successfully, fate had it that the two women became trapped in an underground cave system. In a surprising turn of events the two managed to reach an understanding and develop a kinship as they worked together to survive and escape, and Nortelania learned more about the rebels, their values and goals. It was enough to make her question her own beliefs, but the experience also left her in a state of inner conflict. Hoping that the rebel leader – Velanoriel – saw the value in their brief connection, she suggested meeting up again in a week’s time and, much to her surprise, the leader agreed. However, on the day that she was supposed to have met a few of the other key members of the group, she was instead met with a gruesome murder scene – several bodies mutilated to the point of no recognition, and no chance of telling whether one of them belonged to Velanoriel. Next to one of the bodies laid a torn piece of paper with a set of coordinates unrecognisable to her. Upon reaching the marked location within a dense forest with centuries old trees she was met by none other than her mentor, Telandys Menaheran. The man was entirely aware of her attempts to engage with the anti-isolationist rebels and delay Velanoriel’s capture. However, in an unexpected show of mercy, Telandys demanded that she go into exile instead of imprisoning her or outright killing her. For all she knows, her family either believes that she is abroad looking for various period pieces for her mentor’s collection, or they think that she is no longer alive if Menaheran no longer keeps up the above-mentioned charade.

In the present, however, the letter was sent by an unknown source claiming to be one of Menaheran’s hounds – unsurprisingly, her movements were being tracked for decades. Apparently, the once noble and just leader went into a grieving rage after the death of his only son, Aranthelion – a perfectly average young man just about grown enough to enter into adulthood, and with no notable achievements to his name yet deeply loved by his father. Less than a year ago, he died in an accident which was brought on by a misunderstanding, if the contents of the letter are to be believed. It would seem that Aranthelion became aware of his father’s behind-the-scenes role when someone planted several letters belonging to the latter in the son’s desk (rumour has it that it was the work of one of Velanoriel’s surviving agents). An idealist, Aranthelion himself was largely against isolationist policies, but also came to believe that the work his father and his allies do was also keeping the elves in place, instead of allowing them to move forward and fully engage with other cultures and nations without fear of losing their home and identity. Due to his high social standing, eventually the young man found himself associated with a growing number foreign dignitaries, diplomats, and merchants willing to expand their presence and interaction with and within the elven lands on a permanent basis. One such luminary was a noble from Mendev who was interested in bringing his business farther than the borders of Greengold, and the two set to work on making his plans a reality early in their friendship. However, during one of their outings in the port city, the two got into a heated argument with a local store owner with the latter lashing out and pushing Aranthelion to the ground, which resulted in a fatal head injury. Long story short, Aranthelion died on the spot, the Mendevian noble fled the scene, and Menaheran vowed to get his revenge, believing that his son died in no small part due to incessant foreign influence. This desire twisted his personality, and he was no longer willing to look for moderate solutions, instead focusing on advocating for a near complete ban on foreign presence, all the while working on ways to track and punish the one person he saw as the most guilty in the death of his son.

The letter further explains that the Mendevian noble in question, a man known by his pseudonym Golden Nightingale, became aware of the fact that he is being hunted, and, in a particularly risky move, decided to flee the nation and play hide-and-seek across the Worldwound. The author of the letter further states that, while their main task is to track Nortelania, another one of the hounds, upon entering the Worldwound with Menaheran, sent them a disturbing message chronicling their mentor’s descent into near total frenzy and what it could mean for Kyonin if he survives his pursuit and returns. Thus, hoping that Nortelania, despite her exile, is still vested in the well-being of both Kyonin itself and its inhabitants, the anonymous sender asks to meet-up to discuss the situation and what can be done about it in further detail. A set of coordinates is attached to the letter with a note explaining that the meeting can be arranged on the nth (the date will change depending on the in-game date), and they will wait for another week before leaving.

The Commander can refuse to help straight away, thus breaking up the entire quest line, and the anonymous sender would believe that Nortelania is far more invested in crusade business than solving this issue. If the Commander agrees to help, a location labelled as nothing more than Meeting Place will appear on the map as part of the quest. Visiting the location will reveal a scene that looks to be an abandoned campsite with discarded tools and utensils lying around a roughly made fire pit. Looking around the surrounding area will reveal a trail of blood leading towards some overgrown shrubs. There, a body belonging to an elven woman will be found, seemingly still and unmoving, but with a small perception or lore (nature) check it will become evident that she is still breathing, even if it is barely noticeable. Nortelania will then comment uneasily that she does recognise the woman’s face, stating with a degree of disbelief that the elf is none other than Velanoriel, the leader of the rebellious anti-isolationist group. Though shaken by the revelation, she will nonetheless suggest taking the elf back to camp for healing. The Commander will then have the option to either: 1.) agree to the request; 2.) deny the request and simply leave the elven woman to die by demanding Nortelania put the entire situation out of her mind and focus on the crusade. Begrudgingly, she will agree, but not without leaving some cure wounds potions; 3.) outright kill Velanoriel and state that her injuries were too severe and a full recovery was out of the question, thus providing her with medical attention, either practical or magical, would have been a drain of much needed resources. Note that both this and the second option will set the romance flags to zero, without any way to salvage it later on. This option will also prematurely break the quest chain, though it will result in a unique (bad) ending. Back at the crusader camp, provided the Commander agreed to take Velanoriel there and provide assistance, a small conversation will trigger with Nortelania where she will express her unease about the situation, though she will comment that she is pleased to see that her former mark is holding on for dear life, as she is eager to try and understand the severity of the situation. She will also thank the Commander for their willingness to find some time to spare and help despite the pressing circumstances of their own situation. If Velanoriel is either left to die or killed, she will thank the Commander for checking out the location at least, and will promise to focus on crusade matters from now on. Her tone will be far more distant than usual, though she will not elaborate if asked to explain the shift in her mood, instead leaving the Commander to their crusade duties.

In Act 3, if and when Velanoriel is healed, the three of them will have a proper conversation at last. The elven leader will say that she had spent much of her time trying to understand Menaheran’s weaknesses – looking for ways to undermine him, trying to turn some of his hounds and agents to her cause – and will further confess that she was indeed the person that planted the letters for Menaheran’s young and impressionable son to see, with the hope that she would eventually recruit him to her cause as a means of diminishing his father’s influence. However, his death was a tragic loss that she claims no responsibility for. To this, the Commander can comment that even if it was not her intention for the young son to die, her initial actions did set in motion a series of events that led to this end. Alternatively, they can agree that his death was an event completely out of Velanoriel’s hands, stating that no person can accurately predict the effect of their actions and that mistakes, however tragic, are there for us to learn from them. Whether the Commander decides to interject or not, she will continue her story, saying that at first she was pleased to see Menaheran descend into near hysteria, although with time the reports chronicling his behaviour began to disturb her deeply. The fact that he was growing more and more pro-isolationist in his views also forced her to rethink her strategies, even if it meant returning to the status quo. One day, upon learning that Menaheran is planning to follow the Mendevian noble all the way to the Worldwound, she disguised herself as one of his hounds that were to accompany him on his hunt, determined to eliminate Menaheran when the time was right. However, in a strange turn of events she began to question whether it was possible to turn the man back to his usual self, perhaps out of some morbid curiosity, or perhaps due to feeling sorry about his circumstances. In any case, at some point during their journey Velanoriel became aware of the fact that Menaheran is keeping tabs on Nortelania. Intrigued, she eventually contacted the hound responsible for this task and managed to turn him to her cause, the end goal of which, to be entirely honest, was becoming more muddied by the day. Either way, she suggested looking in several key locations in order to get to the Golden Nightingale first and offer their protection, and, should the hound be successful in tracking their target, proposed meeting for further planning. Soon after, they sent the letter to Nortelania, hoping to arrange a meetup but being ambushed in the process.

Velanoriel will then mark a location on the map indicating the place where she and the hound were supposed to have had their meeting had she been successful in eliminating the trackers. She will prompt the Commander to be quick, because their rivals are also highly committed to their goal, making movement along these parts incredibly difficult and dangerous. At the given location – a worn down hut with a labyrinthine system beneath it – the party will be required to dispatch some stray but otherwise unimportant creepy crawlers and some lame old babaus before reaching the end of the underground structure and finding a camp hidden away by a magic barrier. Before the barrier lie several mangled bodies belonging to the elven hounds – disguised and dressed in unassuming clothes to blend in with the locals and track their targets (a closer inspection will reveal body armour hidden beneath the layers, though that evidently did not help prevent the ripping of of their extremities). The magical barrier can be dispelled with a medium difficulty use magic device or knowledge (arcana) skill check. There, the party is required to look around the abandoned camp space and, with a successful perception check, take note of a long, narrow crack hidden behind dense creeping vines, that has opened up farther along the wall, and a light breeze is wafting through. A character with a medium mobility skill will be needed to fit through the crack and help in leading the others make it safely to its other end. The time spent in the narrow passage will seem agonisingly slow, with the air being thick with a kind of musty and earthy smell. The uneven rock walls of the cave will seemingly nearly encase the party for a time, digging into their back and chest with its edges. Eventually, all will feel the air becoming less humid and, with a successful skill check, reach the surface once more. In case of a failure, however, a randomised party member will receive a head wound due to a tumbling rock near the cave’s exit. The party will then find themselves quite a bit removed from their entrance near the worn down hut, though its tall chimney will still be seen on the horizon. There, with a high perception check, one of the companions will point toward some trees and the small pile of soil and leaves beneath it – seemingly ordinary yet intriguing to the keen eye. The party will frustratingly find nothing but a folded note written in a cipher tucked and hidden in the pile. Having Nortelania or having a companion with the knowledge (world) skill in the party will reveal that the letters appear to be elven, though written using an older script, with the text itself appearing to be nothing but gibberish to the untrained eye. Further attempts to decipher it on the spot will yield no results.

Without having much success in their journey, the party will be forced to return to Velanoriel. Upon returning to the capital, the Commander will briefly explain the situation to Velanoriel, who will become visibly shaken upon hearing that the group managed to find no one at the location, but she will steel herself quickly enough in order to receive the written message, thanking the Commander for bringing it for her to contemplate, though she will confess that deciphering the text will take some time. In a day’s time, she will request to see the Commander and will eagerly roll out a map with a new set of coordinates to check out and see whether the hound and the Golden Nightingale are safe. The map will take the party to an abandoned ruin. If Velanoriel was left to die in Act 2, this part of the quest and this particular area on the map will be revealed in an unskippable ambush scenario in which a number of elven agents will try to make pleasant conversation with the Commander (if Nortelania is in the party, they will attack on sight), though distant sounds of a fight will be heard coming from within the ruin. In any case, they will not let the group pass inside of the ruin, and will need to be dealt with before processing to the derelict structure. There, the Commander will walk into a scene of a murder about to happen (this will happen in a book story format used in the game a lot). With the hound gravely wounded and subdued, the Mendevian noble is left to fend for himself with nothing but a rusted sword discarded in these ruins decades if not centuries ago. There are merely four elves to deal with, but that in itself could prove to be difficult. The options to clear the area would be: 1.) with an arcane user in the group, cast web or grease (do not forget to cast freedom of movement on the party beforehand), grab the hound and the Nightingale, and escape. One of the elves will make an attempt to grab the party member with the lowest reflex score by their ankles and, should they fail their saving throw, they will be brought to the ground, hurting their knee, though later successfully kicking off the elf at the cost of yet another small injury by getting stabbed in the leg. Despite this, the party will escape successfully with both of their targets secure; 2.) with an athletics check, have someone climb the broken down stairs made of stones, and attempt to line up and shake the pillar in order to crush the elves with it. A successful skill check will eliminate the elves and leave the Nightingale unharmed, but a failed check, while crushing the elves, will injure the noble man severely; 3.) have a character perform a stealth+mobility skill check by having them stealthily approach the four elves and take them out in quick succession. In case of a failed skill check, one of the elves will stab the Nightingale in the gut, while the remaining ones will need to be dealt with by the Commander and their companions. If the Nightingale got injured during the rescue, the hound will implore the Commander to provide healing, as it is important to keep the Mendevian alive because he is in possession of a crucial piece of evidence in regards to Aranthelion. However, this evidence is kept in an arcane protected box which responds to a spoken line verbalised with his voice only, thus making his survival a priority. Otherwise, the hound, while also injured, will thank their rescuers but state that further questions will have to wait until they are away from this place.

Back at Drezen, the quest will update with the task to visit the temple to see how their newest visitors are acclimating themselves. The Nightingale is still in shock, and he will confess that this venture is taking a bigger toll on him than he could have even predicted. If Velanoriel was left to die, the hound will add that it feels like their journey should have fallen apart earlier, after Velanoriel nearly crawled to their place of meeting full of injuries, though determined to relay that Nortelania had indeed visited their camp, and that knowledge alone kept him going. Still, he will bitterly comment that he is not expecting the Commander to be of much help. To this, the Commander can reply that, while they do not have a personal investment in this situation, it is important to one of the people belonging to their inner circle and they intend to see it through, even if they did not understand its significance earlier, and for which they apologise. Alternatively, the Commander can dismiss the hound’s remark, stating that they will not allow themselves to be dragged down by this pathetic display, though they are willing to be “the bigger person” and see this through until the end.

Whether the Mendevian noble was successfully rescued or not, he will go on to explain that the box contains letters exchanged between the Nightingale and Menaheran’s son. These letters contain personal details and describe at full length Aranthelion’s feelings about the need for elven society to become less isolationist. It becomes clear by reading the letters that he was under no compulsion or deception when prior to the accident that took his life – perfectly willing to bring about changes, big and small, by his own volition. If there is a way to open the box, the hound will comment that having these letters may give them a chance of making Menaheran see reason and abandoning his quest for revenge by showing him what kind of issues his son held close to heart.

After a while, the Commander will receive visitors in the conference room – elven officials claiming to have a vested interest in bringing one of the Commander’s recent visitors back to Kyonin to provide information as an eyewitness to a case of manslaughter. The Commander can easily infer that they are talking about the Golden Nightingale and his connection to Aranthelion, and they should know by this point that the elven merchant responsible for the death of the latter was appropriately punished. Therefore, the elven “officials” are really trying to trick them into releasing the Nightingale into Menaheran’s custody and potential future abuse as an act of vengeance. Still, the elves will be persuasive, offering great riches and an opportunity to have among the crusaders a highly trained unit of elven assassins. Should the Commander agree to give the Mendevian noble into their custody, the remaining quest line will no longer be available, and, disappointed with their decision, Nortelania will leave permanently, no longer having the same enthusiasm for the leader of the crusaders as many others do. Otherwise, the quest line will resume in Act 5.

In Act 5, Velanoriel (if alive), Nortelania and the hound will approach the Commander in the meeting area of the castle to discuss the plan to lure out Menaheran into the open, commenting that they have noticed a few from his entourage circling around Drezen’s surrounding areas, though not yet following through with any kind of plan to either kidnap or eliminate the Nightingale. Velanoriel will suggest having one of them magically disguise themselves as the Mendevian noble, with the hound escorting both of them away from Drezen, seemingly to allow him to escape. The Commander, on the other hand, should go ahead with their companions and set up an ambush at the decided upon location with the goal of subduing Menaheran. Afterwards, Velanoriel and the hound will take their leave, but Nortelania will linger behind. At this point, the Commander can ask what her plans are in regards to Menaheran’s fate, should they be successful in this venture.To this, Nortelania will comment that she is not thoroughly convinced that he is a completely lost cause, though he will need to answer for his use of brute force in hunting down the Mendevian noble and leaving him mentally scarred. The Commander can either ponder her reply in silence, agree that they must try their best to get through to him and convince him to abandon his revenge, however unlikely that might seem, or suggest that he should be dealt with in a way that will prevent him from going on similar rage-fueled campaigns – either by killing him or by way of imprisonment.

East of Drezen, in a thickly wooded area, the Commander and their companions will be required to set up an ambush and wait. If Velanoriel is dead, Nortelania will briefly become unavailable, because she will have to mask herself as the Mendevian noble and lure out her former master. Once Menaheran and his entourage of five will reach the location, the Commander and their companions will encircle them and an auto-dialogue will appear in the storybook format with the option to tell him to surrender. He will attempt to rush and grab the “noble”, but the person pretending to be him will unmask themselves at this point, making Menaheran loose his temper. If the party managed to acquire the letters sent by his son, the Commander will mention this and suggest having a proper discussion. His disposition will soften for a brief moment, but a fight will ensue regardless. After seeing that both he himself and his five warriors are incapacitated, Menaheran will have no other option but to listen to what the Commander has to say. It will be possible to present the letters directly for him to leaf over, if they are in the party’s possession, which will make further persuasion skill checks easier. Otherwise, several persuasion skill checks will be offered: 1.) suggest to let go, stating that he only loses more of himself by continuing on this path; 2.) suggest to keep the memory of his son in his heart, but try to find strength to forgive both the noble for escaping and himself for choosing the path of ruination; 3.) suggest that the memory of his son should not be a source of anguish that requires vengeance to dull its pain, but instead can be used as a beacon of hope to allow him to see new possibilities while remaining cautious not to go overboard. While it would appear that something breaks inside of Menaheran, if Velanoriel is present, he will address Nortelania and state that, while exiled, she was never formally released from her oath, thus making it her duty to capture the leader of the anti-isolationist rebels and bring her to him. If only the hound is present, Menaheran will reveal the elf’s name (Faelarion) and state that his actions were entirely unsanctioned, and he needs to be dealt with appropriately, suggesting that this loyalty test will decide whether Nortelania deserves to return from exile. She will not comply at this point if her intuition counter is higher than the stringency one, but the reverse case will cause her to doubt herself (the same will apply if the counters sit at equal values). Seeing this, Menaheran will further push Nortelania, saying that this situation only came to be due to her mistakes and disregard of her duty, but he is willing to give her a chance. At this point, the Commander can solidify which way she will be nudged towards. The can either remark that a mistake made in the past should not define and shackle a person, but instead offer a way of strengthening one’s character and abilities. There is value in mistakes, and one should embrace with an open heart (this will add to the intuition counter). Conversely, they can say that, since our lives and the path to our goals are bound to be riddled with errors and mistakes, it is crucial for people to act in ways that take into account these potential miscalculated decisions and work on preventing them before they even shape up to happen. To often, people fall into the trap of justifying their mistakes, thus becoming more weak-willed and lacking focus (this will add to the stringency counter).

If Nortelania once again refuses to follow her mentor’s instructions, he will fume for a while, though ultimately, sensing his own defeat and unfavourable position, will acknowledge that there is value in following a path unrestricted by inflexible rules. He will concede that his own little crusade was bound to be a failure from the start, or else it would have ended in his own demise, further promising to honour the memory of his son by putting an end to this venture. If only Faelarion is present, he will relieve him of his duty of tracking Nortelania, urging him to return to Kyonin to make preparations for his own eventual homecoming. If Velanoriel is alive, he will, somewhat listlessly, ask if she intends to keep on ruining his efforts to avoid a societal upheaval. To this, she will surprise everyone by solemnly saying that she sees this entire ordeal as a cautionary tale and no longer thinks that rapid change is the answer. After all, the elves have more time than most to think about what direction they should take. Though she will promise to keep her eye on Menaheran, prompting a hearty laugh from the man.

If Nortelania agrees to hand over either Velanoriel or Faelarion (or both), a fight will ensue, though it will not be fatal, and the elven guards will take their prisoner(s) into custody, marching along ahead of their leader. Still, remembering her dedication to Sarenrae’s teachings, Nortelania will ask that the prisoners be treated fairly and with the possibility of an absolution. Afterwards, Menaheran will slowly return to his old, calm self and applaud her willingness to follow the path laid before her until the end, and will mention that, should she wish to become protégé once more, his doors shall remain open. He will similarly thank the Commander for bringing him back from his irrational state and will make the promise to honour the memory of his son upon returning to Kyonin.

Whichever way the quest concludes, the Commander will have the option to ask Menaheran how he intends to navigate elven politics from behind-the-scenes, to which he will state that their queen is still young and largely interested in applying less isolationist policies, but he will ensure that it is done in a way that prevents chaos and fracturing within their society. Still, after having paid witness to the Commander and their various companions, all of which come from different backgrounds and societies, he is willing to be a bit more lenient in his decisions, knowing that inspiration and beneficial knowledge can be found beyond the borders of Kyonin, thus returning to the status quo before his hunt on the Mendevian noble, although with more tolerance for a more collaborative approach to the development of elven society. Finally, before his departure, he will confess that Nortelania’s parents are still blissfully unaware of her exile, thus making her free to visit them at any time if she so wishes.

Back at Drezen, Nortelania will seek the Commander out and thank them for their help, whichever way the quest ends. However, their conversation will vary depending on whether she is pushed towards intuition or stringency. She will also say that the Mendevian noble, now free of being hunted, no longer wishes to stay in Drezen, and is planning to leave, though he promises to supply the Commander with a group of talented warriors as a way of thanking them for their protection.

Are they romanceable? Describe their romance quest/scenes if you want! She is romanceable by female and male Commanders of an alignment that is ultimately non-evil. However, the romance itself is rather niche because it will not feature any fade-to-black scenes of a more physical nature. She is not interested at all in any activities of a sexual nature and it will be addressed in the romance as it progresses.

If the Commander spoke to her soon after her arrival to the Defender’s Heart, there would be some subtle options available among the dialogue options. Most notably, asking her about her travels prior to the Worldwound would lead to the option of remarking on the fact that some of her adventures sound risky, and further inquiring whether there was anyone to keep her company. She will comment that she was surrounded by people of various walks of life on her journeys – some she knew for only a couple of days, while others stayed in her life for a longer period, and while she did enjoy spending time with them, either as a protector, or as a companion on a long journey from one distant land to another, none were close enough to share the troubles that weighed heavily on her mind, thus often leaving her with the feeling of being alone in a world of strangers. The Commander can then: 1.) say that they understand the feeling of not wanting to be a burden to those around them, and will further comment that it is important for people to know that they have someone that can offer companionship and a feeling of safety, especially during particularly trying times; 2.) teasingly comment that they hope that the presence of one very amiable Commander will alleviate that feeling and, even though they barely know each other, they hope to become someone that will help her carry whichever burdens she might have. She will appreciate either sentiment, and will go on to state that she appreciates the Commander looking out for her, praising their attentiveness to those under their command. She will also commend them for protecting others, to which the Commander can either thank her good-naturedly, or respond in a slightly flirtatious manner stating that they are all the more happy to do so knowing that she is there to watch their back. In the first case, she will respond with a small smile, but she will gently but firmly urge the Commander to get back to their duties. In the second case, she will smile and say that the Commander hardly seems like someone in need of constant protection, though she is pleased to know that they trust her with this important task before reminding them not to dally.

In Act 2, there will be an option of reassuring her during her personal quest and promising to stand by her and help her solve the issue until the end.

After the battle for Drezen, if the Commander has expressed their interest in her at least once, she will ask whether they can spare the time to see her for a private conversation. If the Commander agrees, she will take them to the battlements in the late evening to talk. She will begin by saying that she is glad to have grown close to the Commander in such a short amount of time and will offer to listen to any worries, complaints or thoughts they might have, in many ways echoing the sentiments expressed by the Commander during one of their first conversations. She will then turn to look at the night sky distractedly, saying that she believes that each body is a universe that contains their own inner candlelight that is there to offer help, inspiration and understanding to those who need it in traversing the world. However, many people either forget about it or are completely unaware of it to begin with, and behave recklessly and thoughtlessly, thus toppling the candle over and putting out its light. Still, she hopes that the Commander will not forget about their own light despite the numerous hardships they face, and will try to keep their inner candle burning. To this, the Commander can ask if this is a fanciful metaphor the followers of Sarenrae use to cheer someone up. She will blush a bit at this, saying that it is nothing so profound, as these are her own thoughts that gave her comfort in a difficult time, as well as a way to keep her from hardening in a world that is oftentimes harsh and unforgiving, because when a person has something to protect, and something to live for, life becomes a bit more bearable. 1.) tease her and ask whether she meant to say “someone” instead of “something” (she will smile evasively, though it would seem that she does not appreciate the humour right now); 2.) thank her for keeping them in her thoughts, and promise to keep her words close to heart; 3.) thank her for the encouragement, and confess that they find it to be a daunting task on top of everything else they have to deal with, but admit that they feel a bit more at ease knowing that she is there to offer a degree of solace. Either way, she will reiterate that she is grateful for having met the Commander and hopes that the both of them will face whichever obstacles ahead by being there for each other. At this point, she will try to take hold of the Commander’s hand, but will stop herself. Noticing this, the Commander can either: 1.) thank her again but suggest catching up on this later; 2.) wordlessly take her hand; 3.) stay close without taking her hand, and remain to watch the stars in quiet contentment together.

In Act 3 a random post-camping scene will trigger. One morning, while the entire party is gathering up their things and preparing to set off once again, the Commander will note that Nortelania is nowhere to be found, to which one of the companions will reply that they saw her hurry towards the tree copse / other room (depending on where the camp takes place) in a manner that suggested she wanted to be alone. If the Commander decides to pursue this further, they can go looking for her and eventually find her hiding away, nervously glancing about and trying to comb out a nest of tangled hair. Upon seeing the Commander, she will awkwardly state that she had a hard time falling asleep and kept tossing around, which resulted in the mess on her head. She will comment that her wanting to do this in private must be a family thing – neither one of her parents walked around with loose hair around people that were not part of the family. The Commander can then ask whether their presence makes her uncomfortable and if they should leave, but she will respond with the action of taking hold of their wrist and asking them to stay while she does the entire routine if they so wish. The Commander can either laugh it off and confess that this feels too personal before taking their leave, stay to either watch her silently, or suggest to help her. If the last option is chosen, she will agree to allow the Commander to brush out the tangled mess on her head after some hesitation, and will soon become more visibly relaxed, fully trusting them with this task.

Shortly before the party’s descent to the Midnight Fane she will approach the Commander and pull them aside in order to gift them an item of her own creation. She will offer a kind of protection charm made from ornate silk depicting traditional elven patterns stitched by hand, and containing a small circle-shaped wooden plaque with a prayer to Sarenrae – thus combining to things that are important to her identity and sharing them with the Commander. The charm itself provides a +5 bonus to all skill checks as well as a +2 to saving throws. She will linger near the Commander for a while and, seemingly after steeling her nerves, she will take both of the Commander’s hands in hers (kneeling before doing so if they are small) and pause, seemingly at a loss for what to do next, though looking at them imploringly. The Commander can then thank her for the gift and either pull away (which will end the romance, though she will want them to keep the charm regardless) or lean in to kiss her lightly. When it ends, she will take the Commander’s hands and say that, even though she is feeling nervous like never before, she will give her all to protect them in the journey ahead.

In Act 4 she will approach the Commander on the Nexus with a rather anxious look on her face, asking for a quiet moment away from curious eyes. The two will walk side by side for a while as she clearly needs to gather up her courage to say something. She will suggest sitting comfortably on a fallen tree, and then finally, she will awkwardly confess that watching the succubi and other demons with similar purposes, and observing their ways of expression and behaviour, while perturbing, also causes her to feel anxious about her own inability to offer gratification of that nature. The Commander can then express their confusion as to what that means, and she will explain that while she is fond of the Commander, she is not interested in ever taking the relationship to a sexual level. She will further say that she does not want to find herself cornered into a situation that she will not be able to manage, and she does not wish to lead the other person on, making them think that she will eventually want a relationship that follows the traditionally expected script. But she will also admit to being selfish by delaying this conversation, even though she did so only because she was entirely too happy to spend time with the Commander and wanted the illusion to last for a bit longer. She will apologise for not bringing this up sooner and will await the Commander’s response. Upon hearing this revelation, the Commander can express their thoughts in a couple of ways: 1.) with understanding, though not without a tinge of regret about having to end the relationship due to incompatible desires. 2.) angrily and upset about her wasting much of their time before mustering up the courage to explain how she views intimacy of a more physical nature 3.) state that, while surprised, they value her honesty and, even though they may not fully understand her circumstances, they would rather have her in their life on her own terms, rather than not have her at all. 4.) let out a relieved breath and explain that they have always felt the same about physical intimacy, and are incredibly relieved and delighted to try and make the relationship flourish on their own terms. If either the first or second replies are picked, she will listen to the Commander patiently, apologise for wasting their time once more, and express the hope that they will emerge victorious by the crusade’s end and find someone to appreciate them as fully as they themselves wish. She will then take her leave to spend some time by herself in order to collect her thoughts. She will initially not believe the Commander if the third or fourth options are chosen, and will ask for further reassurance, upon hearing which she will simply nod, becoming incapable of speech due to tears inexplicably welling up in her eyes. The Commander will have the option to let her cry without disturbing her, silently run small circles over her back, or wipe the tears away from her face. In any case, after calming down, she will take the Commander’s hands into her own, brushing soft kisses over their knuckles before flipping them over and leaving a lingering kiss on each of their palms. She will say that the Commander has a beautiful soul, and she wants to keep getting to know the person that they truly are, beyond the titles and the stories, for as long as she can, now that no secrets are there to create any obstacles between them. With a soft and contented sigh, she will curl closer against the Commander / pull them closer to her side if the are small, saying that she expects being with them like this will always make her feel both joyful and safe, and hopes that her presence will offer the same comfort to the Commander.

Depending on whether they had the Act 4 conversation before or after the Battlebliss Arena, the scene will have some differences. If they did not go through the dialogue options yet, she will take a step toward the Commander and look them over with an expression of concern on her face, lightly touching their shoulder or kneeling down before doing so if there is a noticeable size difference between the two before looking the Commander over for injuries and signs of stress. The conversation will have the same main beats if the two had the romance conversation prior to the abduction, but she will be more open with expressing her relief at seeing the Commander through physical actions – she will rush to the Commander’s side and wrap her arms around them (lifting them up if they are small), almost laughing in relief and prompting surprised looks from the other companions before looking the Commander over for injuries and signs of stress.

In Act 5, the Commander will now be able to invite her to spend time with them, though the romance itself will not progress until the completion of her quest. After the completion of her quest she will ask to visit them in their room with the intention of once again thanking them for resolving the situation with her former mentor. She will confess that, if it weren’t for the Commander staying at her side throughout the entire ordeal, she would have been very tempted to just leave the situation behind her, but that would have meant having to deal with her growing inner doubts in ways she would not have had the courage to explore alone. She will also ask how the Commander is feeling and, even if they reassure her that they are ready to face whatever dangers await them ahead, she will take their hands into her own and say that, even though she does not know what the future will hold for either of them, she will not give up on the Commander and will still be there should they decide to lay down their burdens. If the Commander is either on the Angel, Azata, Dragon or Legend paths, she will also comment that they have managed to keep their inner light burning despite the hardships that befell upon them. She will suddenly turn silent for a bit before facing the Commander and nearly blurting out that she dearly wants to tell them something, but is a little unsure of how to do so. After some prompting, she will become lost in thought again, seemingly running over the hypothetical options in her head, before finally settling on the perfect solution and saying that she wants the Commander to turn around so that their back is facing her. She will shift to sit more comfortably and in a mere moment afterwards the Commander will feel her warm breath as she murmurs something in between their shoulder blades. She will pull away after saying the short phrase, but will not allow the Commander to turn around just yet, instead tracing what seems to be elaborate letters into their back before asking whether they understood what she said. To this, the Commander can either: 1.) smile and say that they love her, too; 2.) take her hand and trace the words “I love you” on the inside of her hand; 3.) say that they understood, but would still like to hear her say the words aloud; 4.) laugh and say that she will have to try again because they were too focused on the tickling sensation. Whichever reply they chose, she will smile and lean in to hug them before saying the “I love you” in full, and confessing that the phrase seems a bit odd coming from her mouth because she had never expected to have the chance to say them so openly and sincerely. She will repeat the words several times as if trying to decide how it makes her feel, all the while planting small kisses on the Commander’s hands, cheeks, forehead and so forth. Satisfied, she will look at their face intently, almost with the intention of memorising even its smallest creases and imperfections. She will cup their cheek and say almost wistfully that she would like nothing more than to simply spend time in their company and away from all and everyone else, though she is aware that the world needs saving. The Commander will have the option to ask her to stay longer, stating that they both deserve a little rest – after all, they did manage to get farther and faster than any crusaders before them. She will readily agree if she was pushed towards intuition as part of her quest, with further options to either go for a walk around Drezen, have her read aloud a book of the Commander’s choosing, or simply lie next to each other and cuddle. However, if she is now more stringent, she will say a bit regretfully that the world doesn’t stop for anyone, and both she and the Commander are needed elsewhere, though she will kiss them again and say that she will treasure this and every moment they share together until their next opportunity to have a quiet moment.

What would their ending slides be like? These are related to the end states of her personal quest. Perhaps I will write in the Ascension and Aeon endings later, because currently the word count is getting a bit out of hand.

If she is pushed towards trusting her intuition: she will stay in Drezen for several months even if the Commander decided against staying there after the war – both out of a sense of duty, and as a way of showing her gratitude and support to the Commander by taking the time to help with restoration efforts. Eventually, she will head off to continue her exploration of the various regions, helping people along the way and making sure to find the time to visit her parents in Kyonin eventually, exchanging meaningful letters in the meantime. The people she meets in her travels note the elven woman’s patience and kindness, but also her certainty and a quiet inner strength. If romanced, she and the Commander are often seen together – enjoying the time spent in each other’s company, creating many memories together, sharing their experiences and learning new things, and simply allowing their love to grow deeper in ways unique to only them.

If she is pushed towards stringency: after the war she will stay for as long as the Commander deems necessary, or of her own volition if they decided against staying with the crusaders in order to help with reconstruction efforts by keeping the crusaders in line and reminding them of their duty. Even though she manages to grow to be more assertive over the course of her journey in the Worldwound, many notice that, while still reliable and willing to offer a helping hand, she is less prone to focus on the emotional side of things, instead wanting to put everything into neat boxes and being in many ways inflexible, thus frustrating those around her. She makes a mental note to visit her parents, though for now she is content to resume their familial relationship by way of letters. If romanced, she will schedule her activities in a way that allows her to see the Commander for at least a couple of hours per day, if they are near. During those moments, she never stops inventing new ways to improve the Commander’s life and makes sure they are well-cared for in her company. When they are apart, she sends trinkets that she wants the Commander to enjoy, and writes letters in which she expresses her love for the Commander in a way that reveals a soft side of her that nobody else ever sees, though not without firmly reminding them to stay vigilant in their travels.

If her quest is abandoned: feeling the need to come to terms with her inability to make assured choices in life, she will gather up her belongings and set out once more some time after the war (before the war ended if the Commander sold out the Nightingale in Act 3) – offering her services to all who require assistance, exploring and hoping to find inner peace. Eventually, becoming more and more frustrated with her own indecisive and often self-pitying behaviour, she will begin looking into increasingly dangerous job offers and journeys, perhaps with the desire to prove something to herself. On one such expedition in the Osirian desert she will get caught in a sand storm, suffocating from the dust gathered up in her lungs.

Any other fun facts?

She stands at exactly 195 centimetres. She enjoys both simple and elaborate soup dishes, though out of the available recipes she largely prefers the Creme Soup With a Snout (a favourite she shares with Ember). Additionally, she greatly enjoys the Blazing Parfait due to having a bit of a sweet tooth. Both of these provide a 1d6 damage bonus to sneak attack. Her monkey familiar is named Pebbleseeker or Pebbles for short. Her speaking voice has calm quality that sometimes teeters on the edge of pedantic due to her unique use of prosody and a refusal to use contractions in her speech (something close to a young Emma Thompson, perhaps).

Provide some dialogue/bark examples!

Dialogue start: Upon seeing you approach, the elven woman whispers to the oddly coloured creature at her feet, prompting the familiar to swiftly find its perch on her shoulder, and draws herself to her full height. “Commander,” she says. “You wish to converse?” Dialogue end: “Until next time, then.” She nods politely and turns her attention back to the monkey, fishing out a dried fruit from her pocket and passing it to the familiar. Combat: “Sarenrae, grant me courage” / “Stay back, you filth” Selection: “I shall endeavour to do my best” / “Stay vigilant, these lands are treacherous” / (will let out a small chuckle if romanced) Losing health: “I am in need of assistance” / “We should have planned more thoroughly” Ability Check: (success) “A job well done, if I should say so myself” / “There! I believe the saying is easy as pie” / (failure) ”Perhaps I could try again” / “Oh, for crying out loud” Stealth mode: “Ah, my speciality” / “Patient, now”

Provide some examples of companion banters!

(image credit)

Again, being a professional non-writer, I do not think that I have a firm enough grasp on the companion’s personalities to do them justice in written form, so... I am skipping this one for fear of mischaracterising them.

#pathfinder: wrath of the righteous #dedicating this to my future self lol #have a good chuckle for me #me trying to write the romance part is just #constantly asking whether it fills the kiss quota #what am i supposed to write #should've watched the compilations on youtube #still....#worse quests were written into actual games #so it's not all bad

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artseducation2024 · 1 year ago

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Class Blog by Jacqueline Hidalgo 2023

Jacqueline Hidalgo

Art 15500

Professor Gutierrez-Vicario

May 17, 2023

♡ Course Reflection ♡

Well, to start off this reflection I want to give thanks to Professor and my fellow classmates for creating a safe place for all of us. It is rare for a class to get along so well and be able to let others express themselves so freely. When I signed up for this course, I wasn't really sure what to expect. On the first day of class, I was nervous since I noticed right away the most of my classmates were either sophomores-Seniors, while I was a freshman. But I luckily made a friend who made it less awkward in the morning. Professor was also extremely caring and understanding, a great relief for me. It was also a surprise when I realized that Professor had actually visited my high school, informing us of art activism. It was nice knowing that the Professor cared for what she taught

₍ᐢ•ﻌ•ᐢ₎*·ﾟ。

My favorite activity that we did in class was the Kehinde Wiley assignment. Kehinde Wiley is an American painter whose portraits captivate the viewers attention with his bold color choices and patterns, as well as the subjects he uses as well. For a long period of time, many famous art paintings and portraits center around white, affluent people. We can see this in many European 16-18th century paintings. However, Kehinde Wiley recreates these historical masterpieces with his own little twist. Rather than featuring, yet again another affluent white person, Wiley features black people from across the world. What I like from his art style and choice, is that he doesn't necessarily change the person he is painting. He paints the person's own style of outfit and essence, creating a sort of realism. By incorporating modern images and textiles, it makes the people being painted, pop.

I tried my best to replicate Wiley's art style by digitally putting a small type of collage together.(Figure 1). My process of thinking for this assignment was quite easy. I wanted to pick out images that represented me. Or at least the part of me that I wanted to present. Over the course of eight years, I began to love anything and everything related to strawberries. However, it wasn't until recently that I made it part of my personality. More so, if a person would to ask me to describe myself/likes, I would respond with at least three words: Strawberries, Pink and Cute.

With these three words I chose to make my Kehinde Wiley assignment. I used strawberry png's and a photo of myself that I thought would fit with the color schemes that I already had. If I could re-do it, I would incorporate more pink since it is my favorite color. However, I like how my work turned out. It is a small piece of myself.

ฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅ

For this course we were assigned readings. One of these reading / video activities was a Ted Talk by Ken Robinson, “Do Schools Kill Creativity?” In this presentation, Robinson imposes the question: do schools kill creativity? Right off the bat, I am captivated because I already have an answer for him, it's a matter of time if what he says is agreeable. And in the end it is! Of course we all have our different takes on issues like these, I want to address it as an issues because to me it is one.

We have all see tons of movies where high schools prioritize other extracurricular activities rather than the arts. We have seen it in most early 2000's Disney Channel movies. One I can name at the top of my head would be Disney's "Lemonade Mouth". Schools and society often undermine the presence of the arts and its impacts on the youth.

One of the many activities we do first as a child, is draw. It is such an easy way to express oneself, I think it should be considered holy. Art has been proven to help with self expression, anxiety, depression, stress and other conditions that often prison people within their own mind. Art is like a key that not many people get to acquire in order to liberate themselves.

૮₍˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶₎ა

This semester has been extremely fun. I enjoyed every class, and for a college student who just graduated high school, almost a year ago, says a lot. Not only was Professor Gutierrez-Vicario understanding and caring, she allowed us to slowly open ourselves in her class, She didn't push our boundaries, which means a lot when all students ever go through in school, is educators more often than not, pushing past our boundaries. It was fun to learn about art once again. Thank you Professor Gutierrez-Vicario. ♡

(Figure 1) Jacqueline Hidalgo's Kehinde Wiley Assignment

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angeli-marco-writes · 3 years ago

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Harry Holland - Polaroids

A/N & WC - I do not know Harry or the other people mentioned in this fic, nor do I claim to; this is a work of fiction. 3.9k.

Warnings - Swearing, mention of food, smut: depictions of oral (m+f rec), penetrative sex, use of toys, bondage & bdsm, photos being taken in the act, mild exhibitionism and definite voyeurism (not Harry or reader) 18+.

Summary - You and Harry have an exciting intimate life to say the least, and he rather enjoys taking photos of the two of you in compromising positions. However, in his sex-addled mind, one vital fact is let slip when he allows Sam into his room unsupervised.

“BUD, WHERE ARE THOSE PHOTOS you took of my food the other day?” Sam asks.

The sizzling of pancakes overlaps the conversation, and you mussing up Harry’s hair distracts him, his attention drawn to more important matters than his brother. Harry barely swallows his giant mouthful of food before speaking.

“By my bed there’s a huge pile, they’ll be somewhere,” he answers flippantly.

Flippantly.

Usually so cautious and so organised Harry lets one thing slip his mind for five seconds, and his life is going to fall through the cracks. His reputation will be utterly destroyed. Just with his brother, but it still stands. Sam is… more innocent than Harry has ever been. And Sam will also tell the others, and likely their friends…

“Remembered something, baby?” you muse sardonically from beside him, your hand halting its movements as you cup his jaw, turning him to face you.

The second his green eyes meet yours, you watch the world crumble in his eyes. You’ve never seen him scramble up from his seat so quickly. His bare feet slap on the tiled floor violently, thudding sounds echoing through the house as he blunders around, swinging around the banister with the force and elegance of an elephant.

“Sam! FUCK— Wait!”

“Don’t look in that pile of photos,” you add in a feeble shout.

It’s not like what Sam’ll find there is any secret. You’ve been together a long time, you and Harry, and everyone knows full well that you’re shagging, but that doesn’t mean you necessarily want them to know exactly what happens in the bedroom, in your most intimate, secret moments together. That’s sacred, even if it seems like sacrilege to so many.

No matter how quickly you hear Harry legging it upstairs, his lean legs carrying him up the stairs perhaps three at a time, his curly hair even more unruly than before from the exertion, you know he won’t be fast enough, and that Sam is an insolent bastard when he wants to be. You’ve lived with them all long enough and have had more than your fair share of near misses: no chance will you not be found out, this time you’ll be caught. Better than the alternative and the other times, you suppose, as you cram one more syrup-drizzled and strawberry-covered pancake into your gob, reluctantly trudging your way upstairs to the hive of fun.

It’s chaos by the time you get there. Dozens of artfully-taken photos spilled out onto your duvet, Harry’s freckled face paler than you’ve ever seen it, his hands tugging at his pyjama shirt convulsively while Sam stands on the other side of the room, his dark eyes wide, his expression agog, his jaw unhinged, staring blankly and pointing at whatever the most incriminating thing is he sees next. You just hope he doesn’t go ferreting through your drawers, because then you’ll really be in trouble.

“What… the fuck.”

You come up to Harry’s side, and wrap an arm around his slim waist, lending a weak, “Surprise?”

It’s their fault if they haven’t guessed, frankly.

You can’t draw your eyes away from the pictures, so many of them, all displaying different aspects of your sex life at varying degrees of explicitness. You can even recount the minutes and hours of pleasure that led to the photos, each occasion etched into your mind. Sure, you and Harry go at it a lot, but you don’t always go the extra mile, hence why these commemorative photos of your special nights are so treasured. And private. Or, were.

The first one… oh boy, that takes you back to the most far-out, extreme experiment you tried—the most recent, as well: just this past weekend. You’re still covered in rope burn from it, though that could’ve been prevented if you hadn’t writhed or wriggled about so much while in those bonds. The amount of attempts it took, the sheer number of YouTube tutorials you had to watch, but it was definitely worth it. The intricate patterns the ropes formed all across your body, creating braids down your back, suspending you prone with little movement in your arms or legs. It was heaven to have Harry tugging on the ropes, contorting you into new and wonderful positions for his own delightful access to all of you. Perhaps it’s not something you’ll gravitate towards again, but it was fun while it lasted, and it’s another thing to tick off your list of fun, kinky bedroom experiments to try. To be fair, even though the swathes of soft, rose-coloured rope, intricately woven around you were a lot, you certainly wouldn’t be averse to trying something else with rope. Less shibari, perhaps just normal levels of bondage. You can feel the skin on your arms prickling with heat: Harry feels it too, winding his fingers into yours, holding on tight as he struggles to suppress a smirk.

The next set is interesting, and rather common. Harry’s freckled, ring-less hand is unmistakable in the dappled light as it grapples with the handle of a leather whip, or a paddle, even his belt, bringing them down harshly onto your ass cheeks, already reddened with hand prints, purple from bruises. In one of them, your skin is even glistening with his release, and another, your hands are suspended behind your back. Harry’s always been one for spanking, and the rest of them know it. Even before you were sleeping together he’d playfully smacked your bum, and he certainly hasn’t stopped even with the sexual connotations it now conveys between the two of you. As though he can read your mind, he snakes a hand down and pats you on the bum; his wink telling you it’s just for good measure. Cheeky shit.

One in the dead centre brings shivers throughout your body. Not because it wasn’t fun or pleasurable, but because of the way it made you feel afterwards. Yes, you’d talked through it in thorough details—as with everything the two of you do—how it made you feel going in, throughout, and you’d got a safe word sorted, but perhaps you hadn’t discussed all the long term risks of it. The pretty pink collar, the satin blindfold… The whole subservient thing is a big turn on for Harry, and you played into it, you always do and you naturally fall into a position of less power in your relationship because of the way you are, but being degraded in such a way isn’t for you. You can’t help but feel a sting of shame ricochet through your heart. Harry must feel it this considering how reactive he is: he leaps towards the bed and snatches it up, shredding it before your eyes, chucking it into the bin, and curling another protective arm around you.

“Look,” you whisper to Harry, turning his attention elsewhere as you point to the bottom few: your favourite photos of all.

Despite the disarray, they’re all together, and they remind you of an incredible night. Your anniversary, and what a special day it was. Butterflies swarm you at the sight of them again, but it feels strange for someone else to be looking at them. Not that you or Harry are exactly in a fit state to be proactive about preventative measures now Sam’s seen them all. His eyes bulge from his face, his mouth going dry as he swallows viciously, suddenly having to shift his already apparently tight shorts. Again.

“You’re so sexy in those, baby,” purrs Harry.

He’s damn right, you do look incredibly sexy. And though the first one in the chronological series is you mostly covered, you can remember how hard his dick was at the sight alone, salivating, clenching his fists to stop from ripping the lingerie from you piece by piece. You wanted to put on a show for him that day: who was he to deny you?

On top of your bra, panties and stockings was a nightgown, and above that, a dressing gown. Each image shows you in a further state of undress. It was a deep burgundy lace set of negligée with soft satin straps that pushed your boobs together, lifting them up, the lace hooked together with a single eyelet on your spine, whereas the panties, though half covering your cheeks with dustings of lace, hid nothing while they sat high on your hips, revealing your entire upper thigh where a matching satin garter sat with tiny lace bows. The entire thing cost a fortune. You forked out a damn arm and a leg for what you got, even with a discount included with a certain toy you bought.

First went the dressing gown, letting it fall from your shoulders, allowing it to pool around your feet as you showed off the skimpiness of the silk slip in a series of flourishing twirls, much to Harry’s delight. Next went the slip, and you honestly wish you’d taken a picture of his face utterly agog—as you stood there in stockings held up by garters, barely there panties and a push up bra. There’s one shot of his rough fingertips playing with the trim of the stockings delightedly, like a kid in a candy shop. Next went the feeble scrap of fabric that you dared to call a bra, barely covering your nipples, allowing your breasts free, spilling into Harry’s awaiting hand. You remember the next part vividly, because he was just about to peel the panties off when you laid a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“I’ve got a surprise for you, babe.” you cooed.

His twinkling eyes grew as wide as saucers, and you dared to card your fingers through his curls as you settled yourself over his lap, letting him keep his camera in one hand while leading the other down, down, a little further…

He’s never since made a sound quite like it, so visceral and animalistic, so ready to devour you, to come on sight. He’s never been as hard as he was in that instance.

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” he moaned, a deep groan released from him the second his fingers slipped through your folds to find dripping arousal all ready for him. “Just—wait a minute…”

You followed his every instruction for the next few moments, finding yourself standing up in a good lighting position, Harry strategically beneath you as he snapped a particularly incriminating (yet oh so sexy shot) of your bare pussy in crotchless panties. Harry’s never recovered. He’s already openly admitted that he uses those particular photos more than any others to get himself off whenever you’re away from him. However, the creases and folded corners of one particular photo can’t be blamed on him, since that’s the one you use when you're away, two of his fingers plunged knuckle-deep inside you in those exact panties, from that exact angle, desperately trying to replicate the irreplaceably pleasurable feeling of him within you. He took a good few more than had to be thrown away. Spillages are awfully unfortunate… He fucked you that night with the panties, stockings and garters still on. Twice. Then without the panties, then without the stockings, then nude at last at some ungodly hour of the morning when he took you at last as the sun rose. You didn’t sleep a wink.

There are more of you with lingerie on, nightgowns and matching sets, scraps of silk and strange one pieces that took you hours to get on, but they’re bound to make a sort of book, stowed away neatly (mercifully) beneath his bed.

Sam still hasn’t moved from his state of paralysed shock, and though you should probably clear the photos up from where they’re dumped, you feel a filthy swelling pride within your chest, a glean of risk as you watch Sam rove his eyes over some more, these all involving toys. If only he knew where you hid them. One his eyes focus on is you with a thick purple rubber dildo deep inside you, a rabbit vibrator stuck to your clit. Your body is but a blur, writhing around for Harry, your hands cuffed before you and not released no matter how much you moved. Harry wouldn’t let you stop coming for what felt like hours: it was the first time you squirted for him as a cry tore from your heaving chest, drenching the bed with your fifth orgasm of the night. Harry vowed he’d be the only one to make you squirt after that, no toys involved, and he’s stayed true to his word.

There’s a few more, and Sam seems to be furrowing his thick brows at the sight of the Polaroids. Glass wands, spreader bars, clit suctions (that admittedly look like they’d be used in a spa for a facial). Poor boy is being corrupted...

Good God, you need to get those toys out again.

With his twin's attention diverted, you snake your hand down the front of Baz’s shorts, wrapping your fingers around his already hard member through his boxers: he seems to be enjoying this as much as you are.

You point out one of your favourite pictures, a debauched mess that shouldn’t be viewed by anyone else, frankly. Harry was reluctant about hurting you or pushing you too far, but you begged to be gagged. You meant just by a tie, maybe his bandana—which features in many images in many different manners: as a bind for your hands, tying you to the bed, keeping your ankles together, even wrapped lightly around your neck, but never as a gag—but he went all out. When you got home, he was waiting in his room with a leather-bound ball gag.

“You begged, baby,” he said, and you couldn’t refute. You had begged, but this was above and beyond. You complied with his every wish that night, and though you’d do it again in a heartbeat, Harry wasn’t a fan of not being able to shove his fingers or cock down your throat at any given moment. He liked hearing your whines and moans and hushed curses, prayers of his name. He also liked hearing your bratty, belligerent rebuttals when he took on a dominant role. You enjoyed it more than a little, but only now can you see how much of a mess you were, messy hair and tears spouting from your eyes, drool down your chin...

Given the chance of the slightest spark of stimulation, you’ll be coming on the spot.

There’s a scattered pile of the two of you in just about every position under the sun, every shape in the karma sutra, fucking both inside and out, al fresco sex beneath the big oak in the garden, anyhow, anywhere and everywhere you could fuck safely and privately, you would, and you didn’t even realise Harry had snapped some of these shots after consenting to him taking them at any time. Your eyes squeezed shut as you peaked, Baz’s palm kneading your chest, your skirt hiked up around your stomach while your jaw was agape, your pussy exposed and glistening slick in the mirror, penetrated by Harry’s cock. That was a good day, mirror sex, and definitely something you’ll try again. This time with your own mirror... There are a few snapshots of oral, perfect Polaroids of Harry’s nose nuzzled into your pussy, his tongue deep in your core, his lips on your labia, all of them for your sake whenever he goes away.

“Gonna recreate that one tonight,” Harry husks, pointing towards one image in particular of you sucking him off.

His huge member down your throat, you’d trained yourself to breathe solely through your nose, but the neatly trimmed patch of hair there tickled your nostrils. Harry’s talent for photography reveals your doe eyes were red rimmed, saliva trickling from the corner of your mouth matching the mascara tracks down your cheeks. You’ve never looked so fucked out, and Harry couldn’t believe you remained in that innocent façade, rosy cheeks and a coy expression even with his dick rammed down your throat, making you gag.

However, the one you’d like to recreate is one he picks up on, surreptitiously moving a hand to your chest, his fingers hovering over your peaked nipple.

“Reckon we can go again the second Sam fucks off?”

“Yes,” he eagerly exhales.

You don’t blame him, especially not when both twins are staring at the same image of your tits, pushed together with Harry’s dick between them, fucking your chest despite the fact his come already painted your chest in hot white strips, a beautiful painting you’d always wish to frame. He certainly has an obsession with your boobs so there are a couple like that, his hands all over them, the tip of his member tapping them, but the debauched one is by far your favourite. Similarly, there’s one of you tied to the bed, completely spread eagle, his dick resting on your stomach while your belly is coated in his come once again.

It seems, however, that’s what snagged Sam’s attention and has his face a ghastly shade of grey because it's so pale, is the one photo Harry never wanted anyone to see. You leap and snatch it up in one fell swoop, and Harry draws you into a bear hug within his arms, kissing your temple affectionately in thanks as you stow it away for safekeeping. Though Harry naturally carries the more dominant title in your relationship, you always like to shake things up, hence why this photo (and a series of others he already has hidden) depict Harry as your submissive. You walked around as the picture perfect dominatrix in stilettos, carrying a whip while Harry lay there with his hands bound, a blindfold on in some photos (you took them so they’re not as great, but he still looks damn sexy) with a vibrating cock ring wrapped snugly around his girth. He’s never come so hard or so much after you finally removed it and cuffed his hands to the bedpost and began to ride him. You can still feel the warmth of him climaxing within you if you close your eyes and clench your thighs.

“I promise I’ll touch you later,” boy do you hope he sticks to that promise he whispers while nibbling on your earlobe, “but Sam’s coming out of his daze in 3... 2... 1...”

“OH MY GOD.”

“Okay, I didn’t see that coming,” he remarks breathily, hazel eyes wide as he pivots, met with two incredulous stares. Tom’s cry wakes Sam up right on cue.

“Harry! What the fuck?!” Sam demands, his voice a bellow, horror and disgust and... something unattainable just emanates from him. “Why do you have three porn mags worth of your girlfriend down here? That’s fucked, mate.”

“No it’s not. We just like to have photographic reminders of all our... sexcapades.”

Sam is, unsurprisingly, retching, now finally turning his head away from the pile without even bothering to pick up.

“This was cool until you called them sexcapades,” Tom chimes, smacking Harry upside the head as he swaggers over to the bed, fishing a few photos up before tossing them back down.

Sam's horrified attitude doesn’t seem to be spreading thankfully, but you and Harry are understandably rooted to the spot, stuck to the carpet, just biding your time until this is over. Then again, you can’t really tell, since no one is saying anything. You nor Harry want to be the ones to break the silence, though, and you can tell with the furtive and expressive stares you’re sharing that his anxiety is increasing the more people are seeing this.

Momentarily, you think someone may remark about your silent communication, your fixed glances and speechless conversation, but instead, Harrison comes up to you both, a sly smirk etched onto his pretty model face as he clasps a hand around one shoulder of yours and one of Harry’s.

“Harry Holland, you kinky fucker,” he praises.

You definitely feel a swell of pride at that. And the fact that Tom is trying desperately hard not to look at you while also trying to hide how flustered he is, somehow still abhorred by the sight. Harrison’s intrigue is palpable, gnawing on his lower lip as his lithe fingers trace you on the polaroid's, whereas Sam? He can’t decide whether to cry or scream. Harry huddles in closer and cuddles you, ensuring you feel every part of him, just how much he wants this lot to leave to finally have you at his mercy once more.

“So you two are shagging,” Tom observes.

You and Harry nod between kisses.

“Dangerously.”

You nod again, though this time a little reluctantly.

You expect Harry to nestle down with you again, but instead he detaches himself, unravelling his arms, and shoulders past Tom and Haz. He gives Sam a death glare as he piles up all the Polaroids and shoves them deep in a drawer for him to organise later, away from prying eyes and judgemental comments.

“Really, though?” Sam bursts out, flailing his arms before grasping Harry’s collar. “I thought you’d just handcuff her and give her a smack at most, very vanilla.”

As much as he tries to fight it, Harry’s face flushes bright red, leaving no visible distinction between his forehead and hairline. “I think those photos, erm, tell a different story.”

He rocks on the balls of his feet, tugging himself out of his brother's grasp, only to fall into another, saved by Harrison’s scowl at Tom.

“Can you lot bloody get out? Please? I’d like some alone time with my girlfriend after that sodding invasion.”

“If you’re having alone time, we’re leaving the house for a while,” Tom jokes, “how long?”

You smirk, striding over to meet Harry, eyes fixed on him as you press onto your tiptoes, wrapping your fingers around his shoulder before kissing his earlobe. He wilts into your touch.

“Two hours should be enough time. Scram.”

They do, gladly, and you slam the door shut as their scurrying footsteps down the stairs recede. Harry’s grip increases around your waist, a growl escaping him as he pushes you onto the bed. You gasp when your back hits the mattress, his lips instantly attacking your jaw.

“Which of those polaroid's do you wanna recreate first, baby?”

—

It’s hours later, and you're all around for your weekly dinner at the Holland house. You and Harry, having some ‘business’ to attend to before leaving the house, are the last to arrive, and Paddy, poor unfortunate Paddy, has the delightful job of letting you into the house.

“Sam asked me to give you this,” he says barely before you’ve entered the porch.

Harry’s face pales as he unravels the small piece of paper bundled into his hand by his younger brother, but you could swear all blood drains from him the second the words sink in.

‘You took them, you lost them, you collect them. What would mum and dad say, Harold?’

“Harry, what’s happening?”

“That utter wanker stole the polaroids as revenge for scarring him. He’s hidden them around the house. We have to find them before mum and dad go looking. You in for the ride?”

“Only if Haz can join us tonight,” you tease, and after calling a hello to Harry’s parents, you follow him around the house, detaching all the pinned photos.

Harry's learnt a solid lesson today: hide his damn Polaroids better from now on, away from the prying eyes of his bloody brothers. But, he thinks with a smirk, by no means will the two of you stop taking them.

#harry holland #harry holland imagine #harold holland #baz holland #harry holland fluff #harrison osterfield #harry holland smut #harry holland x reader #harry holland angst #harry holland fanfiction #harry holland blurb #harry holland fic #harry holland x y/n #harry holland one shot #harry holland x female reader #harry holland x fem reader #harry robert holland #h holland

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reidyoulikeabook · 4 years ago

Text

A is for Ankle Socks

Summary: The first installment in my A-Z of Spencer Reid series. Spencer Reid is very particular about his socks.

Ship: fem ! BAU reader x Spencer Reid

Word count: 2.8k

Warnings: Discussions of case-typical violence, blood, brief description of a fight, minor injury to reader that requires some stitches.

A/N: hello! this is my first ever series and i’m very nervous about it! it’s going to be a chronological a-z series with Spencer, detailing the progression of your relationship!

Spencer Reid permanently wears odd socks. The only time you can recall him wearing matching ones, in the year you’ve known him, was on days he had to go to court. Then, it was required that he wear the technically mandated uniform of proper leather shoes, and monochrome socks. On those days, Hotch would turn up with a pair of black socks tucked into his briefcase, just in case. Spencer had needed them, twice.

However, today is not a court day. Today is day 8 of a case in back of beyond Oregon that, quite frustratingly, seems to be going absolutely nowhere.

It says quite a lot, really, that in a day spent combing over convicts with domestic violence charges, the sight you look up to see is more viscerally disturbing. Spencer’s perched on the end of a desk, as he so often seems to be, his ankles crossed over each other. Signature black converse on his feet. And he appears...not to be wearing socks?

He notices you looking at him, and flicks his eyes downward self-consciously, “Is something wrong?”

“Are you wearing socks?”

He lets out a quiet laugh, “Uh. No. I meant to go to the laundrette last night but then Hotch called us into that meeting. I wasn’t expecting to be out here this long.”

“Is it comfortable?” You ask, “Wearing those without socks?”

He kicks his feet around just slightly, “Not really. I guess I’d forgotten about it until you mentioned.”

“Sorry,” You say, with an apologetic smile.

“Not your fault,” He says, looking back at the paperwork in his lap, “Hey would you mind coming to take a look at this actually? I think I might have something.”

***

By day 2, you’d learnt that the only sandwich shop in town had a reputation for bad food hygiene that none of you felt like risking. Normally, everyone would roll their eyes at Spencer for his investigation into such things. However, in this case, everyone else seemed to be as thankful as you always were.

It’s your turn to do the lunch run today, so you head to the grocery store that isn’t too far out of town. Putting your car in park, you mentally run through the list that the team had given you: cheap pasta for everyone but Rossi, who was willing to risk running foul of their microwave meal selection, as many coffee supplies as you could manage, some sour gummy worms for Spencer, mineral water for Hotch, and tights for you. It was frankly quite impractical to wear the things. You ran through so many brambles, fell down so many times, that you almost felt you should get pantyhose hazard pay. In fall in Oregon though? You’d splash out the $6 for the sake of preventing frostbite. If only because Hotch would be furious.

You smile at the thought. Wandering through the aisles, you collect everything you need. Spencer only asked for a pack of sour gummy worms, but, with a smile on your face, you decide to get him the strawberry laces he likes too.

It’s only when you scan the cart, last minute, that you realise what you’ve forgotten.

Tights. Shit.

Wheeling the cart around, you weave through the aisles looking for them. The underwear aisle is aisle 20, and it looks like it’s been ransacked. Flicking through the disorganised display, you see them.

A five pack of socks, adorned with farm animals and backgrounds of a completely clashing colour. It’s almost too bright for you, but you know a certain sockless Spencer who will be sure to appreciate them. Out of curiousity, you navigate your way over to the men’s section and have a look through. Mostly, it’s all black and navy. Right at the back though, you spy a similarly garish looking pack, this time with vegetables on.

You put them in the basket, eyes flickering over a pair of matching aubergine patterned boxers, as you make your way over to the tights. You select your usual kind, turning your attention back to the boxers.

Is it weird to get him boxers?

He’d know it was a joke, right?

Is it weird to get him socks?

Well he didn’t have any

Yeah but you don’t need to get him two packs

Yes I do we might be here a while

10 more days?

He could fall. He could spill coffee on his shoes. He could get shot.

How would socks help with him getting shot?

Your internal monologue gives you a moments reprieve, and then.

Kinda weird you got him socks

Nobody else would have got him socks

Yeah well I’m just thoughtful.

The last thought crosses your mind without permission, and you almost bristle at the brazenness of your lie to yourself. However, you decide, examining the real reasons you’re so eager to provide comfort to your favourite co-worker would require mental stamina you didn’t have right now. Mental stamina that would be better put to use on the case at hand. Mental stamina that definitely wasn’t being used to employ the BAU’s favourite defense mechanism: denial.

***

“I got you a surprise.”

“A surprise?” Spencer spins around in his chair to face you.

“Yep,” You say, plopping the sweets down onto the desk in front of him and grinning.

“Strawberry laces!” He says, smile lighting up his face, “Thanks ____!”

“That’s not the surprise.”

He quirks his brow, confusion tugging at his features, “Then what’s the surprise?”

You untuck your arms from behind your back, handing him the pairs of socks.

He looks down at them. He’s silent for a moment, and your heart thuds.

Fuck.

Told you it was weird.

It’s definitely weird.

He definitely thinks you’re-

You don’t have time to finish that thought, however, because Spencer scoots his chair back. Standing up, he pulls you into a hug. He gently squeezes you, and when he speaks his voice is low, cracking a little.

“Thank you,” He says quietly, “That was really thoughtful of you. Thank you.”

You lean into him, allowing yourself to be enveloped, “No problem. I know you have some issues with sensory things sometimes and I just thought, you know,” you trail off, “Anyway, I didn’t know which ones you’d prefer and I know you like to mix and match anyway so I just got both.”

He doesn’t say anything. But he squeezes you again, tighter this time, before releasing you. Strangely, he won’t meet your eye as he does.

“I’m gonna go put them on, okay?”

“Okay,” You say, watching a little quizically as he hurriedly heads out of the room.

Derek happens to be heading back to the room, bumping into Spencer on his way out.

“You alright kid?” He asks.

“I'm fine," Spencer says, waving him off. He tries to avoid meeting Derek’s eyes, knowing as well as he does that if the profiler catches the look on his face he’ll be found out.

Derek allows him to shrug past him with a confused glance over his shoulder. He walks into the room, scooping the nearest file off the desk and asking in your general direction, “You know what’s up with him?”

“Nope,” You say, popping the p.

You don’t. And it’d bother you, except you genuinely don’t have time right now to dwell on it. Although, try as you might to focus on narrowing down this list of factories in the area, it niggles at you.

***

You don’t see Spencer again until you’re heading out to the unsubs location. You get called out by Hotch in the minute before he returns, and then it’s all guns blaring. Emily and Dave managed to work some magic with Penelope, and the place he’s holding the hostage has been narrowed down to a factory quite far out of town.

You’re perched in the back, discussing entry tactics with Hotch when your eyes travel down to Spencer’s shoes.

One chicken, and one broccoli sock sit on his left and right feet respectively. It’s hard to see them though, with how far they are down his feet.

Hotch answers his phone then, immediately barking down commands at the local PD who are apparently failing to summon adequate manpower, in Hotch’s opinion at least.

You take the moment to cautiously lean over to Spencer, whispering, “Were they not the right size?”

He smiles at you, “They fit just fine as ankle socks.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t even think to check the sizes, womens ones are pretty much all one size. I completely forget that men have massively different sized feet.”

He laughs, “Are you suggesting I have huge feet?”

You feel yourself flush a little, “I don’t think that’d necessarily be an inaccurate suggestion.”

Amused, he smiles. Hotch turns around to you both, momentarily taking his eyes off the road, “I need you to call Penelope, and tell her to get us all the CCTV she can get in the area. If we’re going to have to go in without enough men to cover the perimeter we’ll need all the tactical advantages we can get.”

“Of course, sir.”

***

Lunging forward, you tackle the unsub to the ground, effectively freeing Spencer from the grasp he’d previously been held in.

“It’s over Peter,” Hotch’s voice comes, even and steady.

“No it’s not.”

Before you can even register what’s happening, you’re being tossed backwards, landing against some barbed wire. Immediately, you’re on your feet again, running after him. Not noticing how the wire has ripped a hole in your tights, and cut into your leg a little.

Grabbing his arms behind him, you use all your strength to subdue him to the floor, handcuffing him. Wiping the sweat off your brow, you breathe out a deep sigh of relief.

Derek has it from there, patting you on the shoulder and giving you a “Good job kiddo.” He leads Peter out.

You rub your chest, feeling the adrenaline start to flood out of your body with all the excitement now over. A stinging senstation in your calf gets your attention, and looking down you see the nasty wound oozing blood. It isn’t much, nothing that two stitches won’t fix.

“Are you alright?” Spencer asks, having gotten up from his position on the floor, “You didn’t have to...Derek would have gotten him.”

“Why should he be the only one that gets to tackle people?” You ask, letting out a breathless tinkle of a laugh.

“Statistically, he is the one who does the most tackling out of all of us. Then Hotch, then Emily, then Rossi, then me, then you.”

“I am not the one that tackles the least,” You say indignantly.

He tips his head to the side, “Are you gonna argue with the guy who has an eidetic memory or are we going to get you stitched up?”

“Both, please.”

He laughs at that, linking his arm around your waist. You limp against him a little, out to the paramedics. Mostly it’s for Spencer’s benefit. That’s what you tell yourself, you’re letting him help you so he doesn’t feel emasculated.

When has Spencer Reid ever fallen pray to toxic masculinity?

He might have

When?

Well he could

You just like how he smells

It’s true. The faint waft of his cologne is incredibly comforting. He doesn’t loosen his grip on you for even a second, helping to hoist you so you can sit on the ambulance bed while the medics attend to your leg. You’re feeling a little woozy, so Spencer sits next to you, allowing you to lean on him for support.

“Can you tell me something?” You ask, gritting your teeth, “Distract me?”

It doesn’t really hurt, getting stitched up, you’ve just never found it the most comfortable of processes. All your favourite cases have ended with you not having to get sewn up. You know that much.

“I’ve actually only tackled one more person than you in my entire BAU career,” He says, deciding to return to your former discussion, “I didn’t really go out in the field all that much until a couple years in, it was only because of Hotch that I really went out in the field to take down an unsub for the first time. That was March 12th, 2005. You’ve only been here 9 months and have done almost as much physical stuff as me. One more and we’re even.”

“Well, if you could try not to be the person getting tackled by the unsub next time. Then I might not have to make a tackle.”

His mouth turns up at the corner, “You tackled him for me?”

You feel yourself growing embarassed, “Not for you. For the socks.”

“Oh the socks?”

“Yeah, I mean, it’s a little unfair to go putting yourself in harms way while wearing a gift someone got for you. 5 dollar socks Spencer, practically designer at that price, I’d hate to see them ruined day one.”

He laughs, his tone playful, “Well you’ll need to bare that in mind.”

“Huh?”

He tilts his head towards Emily, strutting her way across to the ambulance with Spencer’s go-bag in her arms. She hands it to him, smiling at you.

“Should I let Morgan know the team will no longer be in need of his services?”

You snort, “I’d hate to steal his brand.”

She shakes her head, “Drinks when we get back? Hotch said the jet’s ready for whenever you’re done, and Rossi says he’s buying.”

“You got it,” You nod.

She pats you on the shoulder, exaggeratedly eyeing your leg again and rolling her eyes as she walks away, “Idiot.”

You smile, turning back towards Spencer, “Are you coming for drinks? I can drive you home.”

He visibly considers it for a moment, “Yeah. That’d be nice.”

“You’re all done here,” The paramedic interrupts, wiping down your leg with an anti-bacterial wipe, “Was a really smooth tear for barbed wire, shouldn’t leave that much of a scar.”

They press a bandage over it and you thank them, getting to your feet with the help of Spencer.

“Wait, why’d you get Emily to bring your go-bag if we’re going home?”

He looks almost bashful. Out of his bag, he pulls a three pack of tights. Just the kind you always wear. Down to your preferred brand, and everything.

“When did you-?”

“I noticed you rip them a lot while we’re on cases. I didn’t know if it was weird but then...the socks?” He gestures at his feet, floundering, “I’m sorry if that’s...I just didn’t-”

“No,” You cut off his ramble, “No, Spencer, that’s really sweet. Thank you, thank you so much. Can I hug you?”

He nods, happily. You wrap him into your arms, pressing your face against his chest. Inhaling the scent of him. Reveling in how safe you feel, how protected, thinking how you’d take three hundred stitches if it meant you got Spencer out of harms way. He was so thoughtful, so kind, so attentive to detail.

Oh fuck.

You can barely look at him. It hits you like a train, the realisation. Co-workers save each other from unsubs. Friends buy each other gifts that have meaning and value. But only somebody who is in love feels like this when they get handed tights. Oh.

It’s a warm feeling. Overwhelming. So much so that you miss Spencer saying he’ll be right back, scooting off to Rossi who’s shouting him over with a question the local PD need answering for their report.

You stumble a little, thankful that you have the blood loss and adrenaline rush to blame if anybody were to notice.

You wait for the wave of denial to hit, to come and lock your feelings back in the treasure chest you’ve managed to shove them down into now. It doesn’t come. Instead, you look at Spencer with a sense of awe that feels newfound, but has actually been here all along. Watching him speak to Rossi, you really notice him: just how much he gestures with his hands, how quickly he relays information, how the huge smile on his face, when he turns around to notice you staring, truly meets his eyes.

***

You can’t tell if it makes you a good profiler, or somewhat of a stalker, that you notice Spencer wears the ankle socks you got him to work everyday for the next 9 days.

Spencer worries he’s being a little too obvious, but he can’t help that whenever he sees the socks he beams at them. They remind him of you. Unbeknownst to everybody but Dave (who somehow notices everything), he spends a good minute or so a day sneaking a peek at the novelty socks under his converse. And then trailing his eyes over to you. Thinking how much he loves the person who got them for him.

----

B is for Blindfolds

Tagslist (this is just people who replied to the post about this series and said they’d like to be tagged! let me know if you’d like to be added/removed to this series masterlist): @reidingmelodies @rem-ariiana

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #reid x reader #imagine spencer reid #spencer reid imagines #criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #imagine criminal minds #criminal minds x you #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic

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svchengss · 3 years ago

Text

hey barista! | l.dh

summary | befriending the barista from your local cafe doesn’t seem too bad

pairing | lee donghyuck x fem!reader ft. jaemin who’s a rlly cute side character in this :(

genre | fluff, angst, slight humour (?)

warnings | a kiss?? i don’t think there’s any but if i missed anything do lmk !!

word count | 3k+

s. tg | @hyuckefi [my apologies since i didn’t release a proper teaser for this 🙏🏻]

author’s note | this is my first fic exceeding 1k words so if u enjoyed reading this, please leave some feedbacks !! rb’s are also appreciated :D ALSO I SUCK AT SUMMARIES LMAO PLS IGNORE THAT

just another day of working at palm coffee, the same old routine. cleaning the countertop and tables before opening up the cafe, prepping the ingredients - more for top favourites! - and examining the machines to make sure they’re working properly. that’s some of hyuck’s daily routines as a barista. he didn’t mind them though, he loved his job. he couldn’t specify the reason why but all these tasks are genuinely interesting to him.

seeing you drop by the cafe is a normal occurrence for him. since you are a regular customer after all, the rest of the staff already know you well. heck, they’re even good friends with you. jaemin hangs out with you more than he does despite being jaemin’s childhood friend. except for him, he doesn’t really know why. he’s not really shy, considering the fact that he’s a social butterfly. he just couldn’t bring himself to say anything to you, the only times he did so was to take your orders when the rest of the workers were busy in the store.

upon hearing the doorbell chime which signals a new customer entering the cafe, hyuck blurted out the usual line. “hello, welcome to palm coffee! how can i help-“, looking up from the cash register only to find you in a disheveled state. “-you?” he eyes you up and down, noting how a few strands of your hair were out of place, the nude lipstick smeared on the left corner of your mouth and your outfit looks really rushed.

“sorry, what was your name again, hyuck right?” you quickly glanced at the nametag hanging nicely on his apron. “i’m in a rush right now, can i get a,” you scanned over the menu behind him, “uh, white coffee, please?”.

“that will be six dollars. you can use the restroom in the meantime to, you know, touch up your makeup and stuff,” he takes the bills from your hand, putting them in the machine in front of him before flashing you with that warm smile of his. you wished him a quick thanks before disappearing into the back of the place.

now that was embarrassing.

your eyes scanned over the hall to find your friend before hearing her shout your name from across. damn, why does she have to be so loud? stares were directed towards you as you walked up the stairs to your designated seat. all the chatter going on in the lecture hall became quiet as soon as your professor placed her things on the desk, which means class has started.

after hearing a two-hour lecture and writing some notes - where suddenly song lyrics and scribbles appear - the words you’ve been waiting to hear finally echoed through the speakers.

“class is dismissed, thank you everyone for listening,” mrs. hui’s voice later being flushed out by the buzzing voices of the students walking out the hall, determined to finish their own activities. you stuffed your ipad and papers into your light yellow jansport backpack before going out to meet vic who’s waiting for you outside.

“i’m exhausted, what did she even teach just now?” vic sighed to her heart’s content. you can’t blame her, today’s topic was quite complicated. circuits analysis or something? you can’t really wrap your head around it, your brain being stuffed with all the information. vic kept on ranting about the problems she faced from the moment she woke up, making you giggle at some comments she made.

“wait for me, i’m almost done,” he folded his apron neatly before shoving it into the drawer and grabbing his bag from the counter to join jaemin, who’s waiting at the front door with the keycard. hyuck accepted jaemin’s request to help him with some shopping for his sister’s birthday party next week. obviously, the rest of the staff were also invited.

jaemin divided the shopping list into two, allowing hyuck to find the rest of the things with ease.

“now where are the streamers…” he muttered out loud enough for himself to hear, crouching down to browse through the party decorations on the shelf. or he thought so, as you could hear him sighing clearly in dire need of the certain decoration, that you decided to help him out.

“um, hyuck? i think the party streamers are in the aisle beside this one? you look a bit troubled there,” you chuckled lightly. the heat flushed to his cheeks, feeling dumbfounded.

“really? uh, thank you for the help,” he gave you a small grin that could hardly be seen if you didn’t spot the corner of his lips. and with that, he’s long gone with his shopping basket.

you are fond of the atmosphere you’re in right now. the decorations left you in awe - white and pink silk hanging from the wall with silver letter balloons spelling out happy birthday stitched onto them. you can see jaemin’s sister, eun-ji, being carried out of her room with a small flowy white dress and wearing a golden bow on her head, her brunette hair being tied into ponytails. the na family really adore their youngest girl.

meanwhile, there are only a couple of adults your age attending the party - jaemin’s co-workers, some of his other friends which you aren’t familiar with and hyuck. he looked rather chill, with an oversized beige sweater and white jeans to suit the party’s theme. you’re not quite bad as well, your hair combed nicely and kept neat with a headband, a white sundress with strawberry patterns on it fit nicely on your figure, complemented with a heart-locket necklace placed on your collarbones. before reaching jaemin’s house, you made sure to drop by a local store to get some gifts for eun-ji. she’s a very well-mannered kid which made you adore her very much.

“y/n? very glad to see you here,” hyuck said as he approached you, offering you a plate of cake which he cut.

“i could say the same to you too, mr. lee,” you let out a soft laugh. he made sure to keep a mental note over how pretty you looked today.

“y/n, hyuck! glad you two broke the ice, did you know how hurt i was seeing you two act like strangers whenever y/n came by the cafe?” jaemin enveloping you into a small hug before fake pouting. you can only laugh at the fake debate the two guys in front of you were having. after conversing with hyuck and jaemin for quite some time, you realised that he’s a cool person to talk to, where all this time, you thought he hated you for some reason. before leaving, you made sure to thank mrs. na for hosting the party and off you went home.

following the previous encounters, hyuck felt much more comfortable around you - even hanging out with you during his shift where you would do your assignments at the cafe he’s working at. every now and then, he would also invite you to hang out with him and jaemin. however, what he didn’t realise was how he slowly pent up feelings - romantically.

ding dong!

he pressed on the doorbell button with a box of doughnuts in his left hand. the three of you were supposed to be having a movie night, but jaemin got caught up with his groupwork which leaves the two of you alone.

“hey hyuck! come in,” you gestured, arranging the cushions on your sofa to make it look more organized. the interior of your rented apartment is calming, the light grey walls suiting the navy blue sofa and furniture with darker undertones. the walls are also not left empty, with modern art portraits hanging from it.

“i brought donuts, your favourite, right?” he opened the box, placing it on the coffee table while you set up the television. you wished him a quick thank you before grabbing two canned drinks from the refrigerator, handing one to him and pressing play on the remote control. you two weren’t quiet throughout the whole movie, with snarky comments on how hot the actors were or how stupid they were being were made.

he didn’t know you were sleepy though as all of a sudden, he could feel the weight of your head on top of his shoulder. it was a rather awkward situation as he didn’t move at all so you could sleep comfortably. before long, he joined you and dozed off to wonderland. the next morning, you were more than embarrassed to find yourself cuddling up to him, with the next movie still playing on the screen.

seeing your figure outside the front door made hyuck more excited to greet you today. after making a quick order for a green tea latte, you fished out your purse from your handbag, feeling frantic if you’ve lost it outside. luckily, you were the only customer in line as the rest of them were already seated and carrying out their own businesses.

“sorry, but i think this might be yours,” you turned around to find a tall-looking guy handing out your black purse. a wave of relief washed over your soul, thanking the latter profusely.

“mind if i buy you a drink? i hate feeling like i owe someone,” you offered, which he gladly accepted.

“i’d like a double espresso, please,” he kept his hands into his pockets.

“and your name, sir?” hyuck looked mildly bothered.

“yukhei,” he ran his slightly blonde hair through the slender fingers. hyuck hated how cocky he looked, feeling more annoyed than ever over the scene that was played in front of him just now. he hated how yukhei looked at you.

why should he get jealous? he’s just a mere friend to you, that’s all. you have to stop overreacting, hyuck.

those words kept running through his mind all day.

“dude, are you okay? you looked-” jaemin opened the staff room, interrupting him from the self-talk he was having, “-distracted,” finishing up his sentence.

“nope, i’m just fine,” he said, bringing the honey smile back onto his face. jaemin nodded before disappearing back to the front to serve the customers.

stop being so jealous, hyuck. you’re just a friend. not more, not less.

“jaemin, how do you know if you like someone?” that question is kind of shocking to him, especially if it’s coming from hyuck. of course, he’s had a crush before but it was during middle school. just a silly, little crush. growing up, he’s never had one - not even in high school.

“you’ve asked the right person,” jaemin managed to do his obnoxious voice, even while driving the car. he’s right, he is the matchmaker of the friend group, just how many relationships worked out because of him? eyes still focused on the road - he’s a responsible driver of course, he began to explain the feeling to hyuck, making his points loud and clear.

“first of all, you start feeling a little too happy whenever you’re around them. and no, this is not the oh-we’re-best-friends-forever type of happy, it’s the i’ll-make-you-the-happiest-person-on-earth one. not to forget, you will also experience some kind of turbulence in your heart, expect them to be jumping around a bit. or a lot, whichever suits you the best.

you also tend to feel nervous around that person. like, stuttering your words in obvious or non-obvious ways, feeling faster heartbeats than usual, you name it. oh! if you’ve ever felt jealous whenever they are around someone else, i mean, in affectionate ways, you might have one. however, my tip is for you not to act out of your mind. you don’t want to ruin whatever relationship you have currently, do you?” even when driving, he still managed to deliver his points with full precision and accuracy.

nodding his head, hyuck took some mental notes to be thought through when he gets home.

hyuck stared at you, whose figure is snoring soundly on his lap. he assumed you must be feeling exhausted, mid-terms just ended after all. while threading his fingers through your hair, he remembered what jaemin said to him weeks earlier.

1. being happy around them

like jaemin said, it is normal to be happy around your friends. but being with you, it kind of gave more joy for him. not to mention that he started to catch himself smiling over your texts and being reminded of you over small things - your favorite donut topping, the name of that one stray puppy you gave.

2. feeling nervous around them

his heart would beat a lot faster whenever you get closer towards him, whether accidentally or to mess with him.

3. getting jealous over someone else

he shouldn’t be jealous of how yukhei looked at you. but he seriously can’t help it. and the way he’s always there during your hangouts. he doesn’t care if he seems petty, yukhei just isn’t in his favour.

his deep thoughts came to a halt when you called out his name, eyes still half-closed, attempting to open them a bit more.

“did i interrupt you or something? gosh, i’m so sorry,” you quickly stood up but he pulls your body back onto his lap, asking for you to stay.

“what are we?” that question caught you off-guard. the same one that has been at debate in the back of your mind these days.

i don’t know hyuck, it’s complicated.

“what do you think we are, hyuck?” you shot the question back at him, your gaze piercing through his soul.

“i don’t know. it’s just-”

“are you sure?” a deep sigh left your lips. have you been interpreting his body languages wrong? did he only see you as a normal friend, nothing more?

“sorry, i’m not feeling well. see you later hyuck, bye,” you tried your best to shoot the sweet smile of yours but only a faint one seemed to appear. once you stepped out of the room, he buried his face into his hands.

god, what have i done?

“don’t feel too down, y/n. maybe there’s something more that he couldn’t bring himself to say?” vic suggested, handing you some tissue.

“i don’t know, i seriously have no idea. why can’t he just say it?” you continued to sob into her arms, she pitied you, especially in your condition right now. but she can’t do anything to help you, other than consoling and listening.

jaemin knew something was wrong, from your rare visits to the cafe to hyuck not being himself lately. something was definitely wrong and it’s between the both of you. sure, hyuck might be saying that he’s fine again and again, but his expressions can’t lie. the sweet smile of his is long gone and his jokes are no longer heard. whatever it is, jaemin is determined to solve it. he just wants his best friends back.

looks of dismay can be read all over hyuck’s face when the person facing him is no other than the guy himself, yukhei. still, he tried to control his composure, not making his inner feelings any more obvious.

“so what brings you here?” he took a sip of the mineral water, still making his throat rough from the tension hanging in the air.

“look, i’m not here for any fights. i know you like y/n, everybody can see it. and honestly, you were oblivious to your own feelings,” he rubbed his hands together. the latter’s puzzled face made him continue his words.

“i’m not trying to make her like me, or whatever you’ve been assuming. sorry if i gave the wrong message but you are the one who should make a move. i can see from the way she looks at you, the feelings are mutual,” he straightened up the denim jacket outside the white shirt wrapping his figure.

letting out a heavy sigh, hyuck’s face begins to soften up. “no, i should be the one who’s sorry. i’ve been such a prick to everyone around me lately, especially you,” he took of the cap from his head, messing up his hair.

“no problem, bro. it’s understandable, i guess. now good luck with her, please treat her well,” the two guys exchanged a fist bump for the problem solved. jaemin leaned his back against the wall, smiling and feeling satisfied.

you called out jaemin’s name but to no avail. he invited you to his apartment but seeing that the lights are out, it’s clear enough that he hasn’t finished whatever he was doing yet. just as you were about to leave, you saw hyuck at the other side of it, both your faces mirroring the same look of confusion.

“so, uh, how have you been doing these days? it’s been a while since we talked,” he chose to break the silence. now, you two were sitting facing each other by the balcony. inhaling the breeze, you paused for a moment before responding to his question.

“i’ve been feeling, not as usual. definitely not happy but not that sad,” you pushed some of the loose hair strands hanging on your forehead behind your ears before asking about his.

“you know what, i’m just going to be direct with you. i, lee donghyuck have been holding feelings for you since i don’t know when. yeah sure, i wasn’t really sure at first about what i was going through. i guess i was just scared of how you would react,” he scratched his ears which are not feeling itchy at all, but rather an attempt to distract himself from the overwhelming emotions deep inside him.

not wanting to waste time any longer, you placed your right hand onto his cheek, standing on the heels of your feet to bring your two lips together. the kiss was short before he pulls you back in for another, this time a more passionate one. he could feel you smile against his lips before enveloping your body into his arms.

“i’ve missed you, you know?” he whispered, his voice tender, directing right into your ears before you replied with how you missed him more. the both of you continued to whisper sweet nothings while embracing each other’s presence.

jaemin looked at the both of you from a distance, his heart swelling with pride.

— another pair of lovers matched, cupid jaemin signing out.

165 notes · View notes

ackerlert · 3 years ago

Text

Sneaky Link

Pairings: Porco x fem reader x sugar daddy!zeke

Summary: University reader becomes Zeke’s sugar baby after meeting each other at her work, which is a stripper, ofc. Eventually develops a relationship with Porco Galliard, of whom Zeke employs ;)

TW: alcohol usage, oral (m / f receiving), food (icing) play, mirror sex, phone sex

You needed some money during college, and tutoring stupid high schoolers wasn’t making the bills. Plus, you couldn’t put up with their slowness one second longer.

When Sasha took you out for a night at the strip club to relieve some stress, her joke that you could always make bank shaking your ass for old men actually sounded quite appealing. It was a lot more fun than tutoring, anyways.

Out of curiosity, you found yourself browsing the internet for openings at nearby nightclubs. Soon you were watching YouTube videos of strippers going through their daily routine, counting their tips, and describing their success in the industry. You were hooked.

You ask Hitch to take pole dancing lessons with you, and she doesn't suspect any of your true intentions, since this was on your bucket list of things to do together.

Soon you secured yourself a job at a local strip club. The first person you confided in was, unsurprisingly, Hitch. She was surprised you actually pursued being a stripper, but the shock didn't really last for long considering her knowledge of your freaky tendencies.

Hitch advised you to be careful, and she was particularly worried about how you would manage to fit this new job into your tight school schedule.

It was simple: you would take your classes, do your assignments, and report to your job at night. You’d work through the closing shift and get back to your shared apartment with Mikasa, Sasha, and Hitch sometime past 2am.

Zeke is a regular.

He gives you larger tips than any of the other girls.

He even pays for private sessions, which consist of you dancing for him mostly an hour at a time.

Eventually you two fuck it out in a booth of the club.

He asks if you'd like to “do this again sometime”. Naturally, you agreed. He exchanges phone numbers with you and asks for your cashapp.

Blushing because you didn't realize he intended on compensating you for your arrangement, you agree to give him your account number.

You and Zeke continue this for a couple months, growing more addicted to the orgasms he gives you every time.

You had two generous sources of income now.

You found out a lot about zeke: he owned a decently large company, fucked a lot of women before he met you, and he was even more freaky than yourself.

One day after a session with Zeke, you're sprawled out on the side of his bed, toying with the golden hair that trailed down his torso, and staring up at the ceiling, mind completely fucked out.

“I have a business event coming up soon,” Zeke states.

You hum in approval, not expecting zeke to continue on.

“It’s plus one.” He pauses, “I was wondering if you would like to join me.”

You turn your head to look at Zeke, almost asking him to repeat himself. Was this like a date thing?

Zeke turned to look at you too. His eyes glossed over at the sight of your surprised face and post-sex hair floating around the crown of your head. He smirked, visualizing the way he had made that sex hair. Gripping your h/c locks and pulling your head back, pounding into you from behind.

Your lips were swollen from being stretched around his thick cock, making him cum round after round. Now they were parted, unsure as what to make of his question.

Zeke repeated himself, “Are you free next Saturday?”

“Y-yes. I’m free.” You said, “I would love to go to your work thing with you.” A smile graced your lips. He fucking loved that smile. Loved seeing it bloom on your face when your eyes rolled to the back of your head, begging to take more of his cock.

“Alright,” he grabbed for his phone, pulling up the information from his calendar. Your phone dinged, no doubt zeke sending you over the event details. “It’s formal attire. Do you need to buy something to wear?” He glanced up lovingly from the screen at you for a mere second. “Fuck it, never mind that.” His eyes reconcentrated back onto the phone. Your phone dinged again, the familiar melody of the cashapp notification filling your ears.

“Let’s take you shopping, princess.” His legs swung over the side of the bed. A back completely full of endless scratches faced you while he stretched those long arms of his. His back muscles rippled as he did so, the sight making your stomach flutter with butterflies.

“Wait!” You say desperately and propping yourself up on the bed. You didn't intend on opening your mouth, but now you had to commit to it.

Zeke side glanced at you, acknowledging your pathetic request.

“Let me suck you off one more time,” you said. You added, “before we go.” A husky chuckle escaped from zeke’s throat. “Such a slut for me.” “What a good girl, knowing just the way to make me hard.”

Porco and you meet each other at the business event, it’s an instant click. He’s employed by Zeke. Soon you're exchanging numbers with him.

These business parties became more frequent with Zeke. And every time, Porco was there. You two would sneak off to help yourself to drinks while Zeke was bombarded with potential buyers inquiring about his product.

Porco makes you laugh so much. Honestly, it’s probably the alcohol, but every joke he cracked earned a cute giggle from you. It only made him harder for you than he already was.

“I could go a lot longer than him, you know.” He whispers in your ear.

Sooner than later you’re texting Zeke that the alcohol was killing your stomach, and you just had to get out of there right away.

Porco didn’t wait to stick his strong hands in your pants when you tumbled into the taxi.

“Gonna take you away from that old man’s dick, yeah baby? Give you this big cock like you deserve?”

You make it back to his large apartment, practically humping his clothed leg on the elevator ride.

By the time you’re inside his place, your panties are soaked and the black lace Zeke bought you is falling from your shoulders.

Porco throws you on the bed, not leaving you any time to remove your heels.

He climbs over you and just starts completely obliterating you with open mouthed kisses across your collarbone.

You don't fail to notice the mirror above Porco’s large bed, seeing the way he straddles over your small body.

Porco sits up from his position on the end of the bed and grabs for your ankles, yanking you closer to him. Just as he hums into your folds, a buzzing emerges from your purse in the middle of the living room.

“Shit,” you say, recognizing the pattern as Zeke’s contact. “It’s Zeke,” you groan.

“Answer the phone, pretty girl.” Porco says with a devilish smirk.

“Wha-?!” Your face fills with terror.

“I said answer the phone.” Porco grows stricter in tone.

“O-ok” your hands shake as you make your way across the floor to where your purse was.” As you accept the call, Porco motions you back to the bed.

You nod, doing as he says.

“Hey princess,” Zeke says with a smile on the end of the phone.

“Hi,” you say shakily. Porco gives you a menacing look.

“Not feeling good?” Zeke refers to your text.

You let out a shy “Nuh-uh” in response.

“I’m sorry baby,” Zeke says, “I can pick you up so you can spend the night with me in case you feel any worse.”

“No!-“ You say startled, “I mean, no, my girlfriends have me all bundled up back at my apartment.”

Silence from Zeke.

“Oh, well, that’s too bad.” He adds, “I wanted to make you feel a little better than they could tonight.”

You look at Porco, a little intimidated by his intense stare on you. He can hear Zeke’s toying with you from the other end of the phone. He nods, urging you to play along.

You giggle softly, a bad attempt at sounding sicker than usual.

“Really? How so?” Porco slides down the edge of the bed, focused on your legs.

Zeke clears his throat, obviously getting off at the anticipation of phone sex.

Some shuffling is heard on the other end of the phone before Zeke says, “You know, maybe cook you some food. That layered strawberry cake you like yeah?”

You hum in satisfaction, but quickly noticed how your approval angered Porco.

He aggressively pushes your legs apart, eyeing your wetness.

“Use that icing on you.” Zeke says, “Make you filthy when I run it over that pretty body of yours. I’d fucking lick it off you because you taste so good.”

Porco starts to kitten lick between your folds, earning a whimper from you.

You imagine Zeke piping the vanilla icing onto your torso as he pushes himself into you, smearing it across your breasts and stomach with his rough hands.

The pressure between your legs rises as the licks grow longer and rougher across your clit. Porco suckles on that bundle of nerves, and you can’t help but cry out a moan.

The sounds from Zeke’s side of the phone indicate he’s jerking off vigorously at this point. “Say my name, kitten.”

You look wildly down at Porco, who stops his motions to shake his head at you. No way he’d let you moan another man’s name on his own bed.

“Daddy,,” you drawl out. You earn approval from Porco, who resumes lapping at your pussy.

Porco taps your thigh, indicating to you that it was time to hang up on Zeke, who hadn’t cum yet.

“Oh gosh, Zeke baby” you start, “One of the girls is coming in i have to go-“

“Wait, y/n-“ but you didn't let him finish. You sigh with relief knowing you can fully indulge in Porco now. He grips your thighs roughly, leaving bruises to be discovered tomorrow.

“What’s Zeke doing now, huh?” “Pumping his weak cock thinking about this tight little pussy of yours?” “I wonder what he’d think if he knew your pussy was taking my tongue so well right now. Acting like such a whore for somebody else.”

Porco pulls himself off of your sweaty body, panting and licking up your wetness.

His eyes are dead set on you, and you felt small under his glare. His hands grab under your arms, quickly flipping your positions. “Bounce on me for it,” he growls.

You nod eagerly, situating yourself above him. Your face reddens as you align your entrance up to him, nervous about his judgement.

Porco softens, noticing your hesitance, “It’s okay baby girl,” His warm hands caress the side of your cheek, thumb grazing your plump lips, “You’re doing really good,” Porco looks earnestly up at you, flashing you a soft grin. You press into his hold on you, strands of hair covering your forehead that tangled around Porco’s fingers.

You finally push yourself down on Porco’s length, his large girth stretching you full. Porco moans at the new feeling, and you can’t help but whimper at the burning pleasure. Your hands roam around Porco’s strong torso, feeling down his thick abs and rubbing circles into his sides. A low groan emits from his chest, and you admire his expressions from above.

You begin moving along his hard length, his tip hitting just the right spot each time. Keeping a slow pace, you tease Porco a little longer, but he’s quick to bark at you to go faster. You let out a playful giggle, “Okay, you’re the boss.” “Doing so good putting Zeke in his place, hm?”

Porco groans at your words, and you swore he was growing larger inside of you at the thought of demoting his Zeke.

Your movements quicken and Porco continues to let out strings of curses.

“Yeah ride my cock baby, just like that. Just like you do for Zeke.”

The thought of another man puts butterflies in your stomach, and you feel yourself falter.

Porco doesn’t miss a beat, however. He quickly thrusts up into you, earning a gasp from your mouth. His hands fly to your sides, balancing you while he does all the work. You whimper at his rapid pace, nearing your climax.

“Porco,” you moan, “I-ah, g’nna cum.”

“Ok, baby,” he says in between thrusts, “Cum then.”

That was all you needed to hear before spilling your release over Porco.

He continued to milk you out, eventually finishing not too long after. He lets you fall on top of his frame, palms rubbing circles into your and easing you from your high.

“Good job, y/n.” You lift your head up to look at Porco’s face. He smiles back at you tenderly. “Alright let’s clean you up.”

He settles you on the bed next to his side and slides off the bed to grab a clean towel from the linen closet and discard the condom in the trash. You watch his muscle-y body move across the apartment floors, his clear focus on grabbing the right things for you.

He comes back with an iced water and starts cleaning up your thighs.

“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” you smile, “I can do it myself.”

He looks up at you, eyebrows screwed up in confusion, “What? No, I’m doing it.” He continues his work at cleaning you off.

“..oh, ok.” You say shyly, butterflies in your stomach from his actions.

“Does he not do this for you?” Porco asks, not looking up from fixing up the sheets below you.

You replied slowly, “No, not really.”

Porco sighed, “He’s such a selfish dick.”

You laugh at Porco’s attitude. But now that you think about it, Zeke was always thinking about himself. The thought passed as soon as it came, and you did consider the fact that he was paying you.

Porco nestled himself on the side of you after he was done, grunting a little from his tired state. His big arms hugged around your smaller body as he pulled you in close.

“Porco?” You called.

“Hm?”

“Thank you,” you muffled into his chest.

Porco blushed at your comment, but simply toughed it over and patted your ruffled hair, “Mhm”.

A few pings were heard from your cell phone as you drifted into sleep, no doubt from Zeke, and each time Porco pulled you in tighter. A smile curled crept onto your lips, “It’s not like I’m gonna leave, Pokko,” you giggled.

“Good,” he said, “I wasn’t planning on letting you anyways.”

#zeke jeager #zeke jaeger #zeke yeager #zeke yaeger #zeke #zeke smut #zeke x reader #porco galliard #porco #attack on titan porco #attack on titan zeke #porco smut #attack on titan #aot #shingeki no kiyojin #snk #attack on titan smut #aot smut

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miss-choco-chips · 4 years ago

Text

F’coffee

-.-.-.-.-.-

Honestly. What did Bruce even think would happen? He should have known better.

Tim wasn’t Dick, indoctrinated from a young age to be a good, somewhat (when convenient) obedient son. Tim only went along with Bruce’s shit because, more often than not, it aligned with what he himself wanted. He also wasn’t Damian, so easily manipulable when one knew which buttons to push. And he certainly wasn’t Jason, who would sink his own ship to kill the captain.

So, when Tim and Bruce fought, and his adopted father decided to pull the ‘you live under my roof and work in my company, so I’m the boss all the way through’ card, well…

Yeah. Tim wasn’t going to take that lying down. He had a childhood of zero authority figures to obey and an overabundance of sass, plus a complete lack of fucks to give.

It was bound to go down like this.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-

And, well. Tim had money. Like, an absurd amount of money. Even before being adopted by playboy billionaire Bruce Wayne, Tim had his own no small fortune stashed away, a couple of properties gathering dust, two trust funds and more antique cars that he knew what to do with. So he could just… burn through that money, or sell the cars, or make a living of renting the buildings he owned, and he would barely even scratch the surface of his deep wealth.

But it wasn’t about being able to live comfortably with minimum effort. Tim was trying to prove a point here. What point, fuck if he knew. But a point.

So here he was, on the other end of the wooden counter, a cute red cap falling over his eye as he looked dead into his friend’s eyes.

“Tim. Tim, you’re rich. Why are you working in a coffee shop?”

Seeing as Kon and Cassie were currently too busy being shocked, Tim shrugged and went back to cleaning the cup in his hands.

It was a plastic cup. It didn’t need cleaning, he could just toss it away. But it was his favorite plastic cup, and he was gonna save it as a family heirloom forever.

(The fact that the pretty customer from the morning shift had drawn cute little doodles all over it had nothing to do with it’s worth.)

“Teenage rebellion”, he finally said, carefully putting his treasure away.

“You are twenty.”

“Time is a social construct and I’m but a slinky falling down an endless flight of stairs.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Your face doesn’t make any sense. How is it so symmetrical? It defies nature.”

-.-.-.-.-.-

“What can I get for you?”

“I'll have a mocha caramel latte-chino, made with skim milk, no whipped cream.”

“Bart, no.”

“Please put that in a grande cup”

“I’m begging you, don’t do it.”

“But use the same amount of coffee that you'd put into a tall.”

“I’m warning you, you don’t want to do this.”

“That way there's about an inch of extra room on top.”

“I wish you had an extra inch so I could look straight into your eyes when I murder you.”

“To stir in my own nutmeg without spilling any coffee at all.”

“You’re dead to me. Also, I AM going to make you that drink and you WILL finish it or so help me God.”

“What do you want, Kon?”

“To not be here when Tim’s looking like he’s planning both our unsolved murders.”

-.-.-.-.-.-

When Kon entered the shop, the messenger bag slung over his shoulder bumping against his hip as he rushed in to get his caffeine intake before his evening classes, he wasn’t surprised at the scene.

Cassie being there was a given, since there was always at least one of them there at all times, supporting Tim in this ‘independence’ thing he was dead set on trying. Kon himself had his Tim Shift later that day, after his creative writing course. Bart had probably just left, considering the amount of empty cake platters littering the counter.

Tim being face down in said counter, uncaring about the mess, was also old news. The dude barely ever seemed to leave (Kon was almost completely sure he actually owned the place, since he’d never seen any sort of manager and Tim’s hours seemed to work around his weird sleep patterns all too perfectly), and distraught was his general state of being, so. Normal day as far as he could see.

Still, he had to ask. “What is it today?”

Cassie, eyes never leaving her magazine, chin resting in one hand as the other one scratched at Tim’s scalp, snorted.

“A cute boy started working in the tattoo place next door. He came in for a morning fix, when Tim was barely awake, and he said something stupid, so he’s been having an existencial crisis ever since.”

“I said ‘you too’, Kon. He said ‘thanks for the coffee, I’ll enjoy it!’ and I said ‘you too’. What is wrong with me?”

Kon snorts a little. Tim doesn’t seem to be very interested in doing his actual work, so he just jumps over the counter and starts working the machines himself.

“You know that’s a question you can only ask your therapist, Tim, but if you need to know, I’d say you’re highly sleep deprived and a dysfunctional bi?”

At that, Tim does turn to look at him. There’s some cake frosting clinging to his eyelashes, and his hair is a mess. It looks cute, to be completely honest, and Kon has to leave his unfinished latte on the side so he can hug the little shit.

“Aw, don’t pout, Timbo. I’m sure he thought you were cute. Just try to sleep a bit more tonight, so when he comes back tomorrow you’ll be a little more alert and won’t embarrass yourself.”

“What do you mean, when he comes back?”

“I mean, if he works next door, he’ll probably get his morning coffees here all the time, right?”

That seemed to drive Tim back into the distraught spiral. He smashed his head back into the counter, making dying whale noises until Cassie’s hand returned to his scalp.

Kon privately thinks Tim’s life is starting to sound like fanfiction. He wonders which type of background character he would be, in it.

-.-.-.-.-.-

The shop is called F’coffee. That’s why Cassie is convinced Tim is the actual owner; no one else would really think that’s a proper name for a serious establishment. Kon isn’t convinced all the way yet, but with Bart on her side and Tim staying silent on the subject, it is just a matter of time until she convinces him it’s totally okay for him to do his gym routine there. She thinks, with Tim being his own boss, no one would tell him to stop it, and it would help his friend’s business to bloom with new customers.

The place's general aesthetic is exactly what you would expect, with old wooden tables, comfy chairs, potted plants hanging from the walls and tall windows just a little bit stained. The smell is constantly of the strongest brew Tim has, Death Coffee (which he’s actually not legally allowed to sell, so he keeps it for himself), and just setting a foot in makes her feel instantly awake. It's also always warm, and the sweets on display look mouth watering no matter your personal preferences.

In short, it looks like something out of a movie. It’s a tad too perfect for her friend, but she thinks it also fits his obsessive need for perfection.

Except for the board. Oh, the board. Cassie loves it more than life itself.

Tim has divided the drinks in categories. And made up names for all of them.

“Yes, hello! I’d like to order a grande, iced, sugar-free vanilla Latte, with soy milk, but I can’t seem to find it in your menu…”

Tim’s dead eyes turn to Cassie for a second, before facing his customer again.

“You’re probably looking into the Normal People section”, he points out, before raising his hand to signal a bit to the left. “There you have the Pain In The Ass selection. There’s nothing just like you asked, but you have the It’s Britney Bitch beverage, which is almost exactly the same except I’ll add a middle finger drawing in the cup and charge you extra for emotional damages. Also, we’re out of soy milk.”

Or…

“Hey, good morning! I’d like to order…”

Tim raised a hand, stopping the chirpy, good looking young man dead in his tracks.

“Don’t tell me, I know what you need. I’ll just go ahead and prepare it.”

“But you don’t even know what I/”

“You’ll have a Cougar Bait. It has cacao cream, a strawberry pucker and some grenadine seeds. I think it's fitting, for you.”

And also…

“Hey, hum… Sorry, I just have to ask… what’s on the ‘Barista’s heart’ drink?”

“Cacao powder, almond milk and espresso. Also some organic coconut ash, that gives it the blacker-than-night color, that’s just a shade lighter than my soul.”

“...noted.”

Cassie snorts into her cup of Jack it up (coffee that tastes just like a Jack Daniel’s; having Tim working here has opened up her eyes to the possibilities), watching as Tim makes his own usual.

“What’s in that one?” She asks, out of curiosity, when she’s sure there’s no other customer close by.

“Six espresso shots.”

She waits for a second. Tim finishes the drink, carefully handling the dark liquid inside his favorite plastic cup.

“...okay, and?”

“And that 's it.”

“Tim, that-- that would kill you?”

“Duh. Why did you think it was called The Last Sip?”

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

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holykillercake · 4 years ago

Text

Strawberry and Cigarretes

pairing: Sanji x Reader

word count: 2.6k

highlight: ¨Everything hurt, and for the first time, you wished to forget what the ocean sounded like.¨

warnings: slight angst

notes: This was a request from @vemuabhi! <3 Very special because it was my first ever request! I wanted to doge the obvious path (which I almost took) and do something that didn´t involve Whole Cake Island, so maybe it is not the biggest angst (hats off to Mr. Oda cause he is Father angst) but I did my very best! I hope you all enjoy and Happy Birthday, Sanji-kun! <3

𝕃𝕖𝕒𝕧𝕖 𝕔𝕠𝕞𝕞𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕤, 𝕙𝕖𝕒𝕣𝕥𝕤, 𝕠𝕣 𝕘𝕠𝕠𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕠𝕦𝕘𝕙𝕥𝕤!

Do you remember when you were a kid, and you´d find a shell laying on the sand? And you would pick it up and put it on your ear, hoping to listen to the ocean? It´d always make a smile grow on your face before you tossed it aside and jumped into the water.

That time was different. When you heard the ocean share its endless secrets and tell its adventurous stories, you just wanted to sit there all day and listen.

This specific event happened a couple of months after you joined the Strawhats. Chopper had borrowed you his stethoscope cause you thought it was cool, and in the middle of thousands of things you´ve already heard in your life, good and bad, the heartbeat was something that you were oblivious to.

Some would think that asking to hear someone else´s heartbeat was weird, but inside the Thousand Sunny... well, those guys put ¨weird¨ on another level, and you would have to work your ass off to surpass that.

Chopper got all blushed when you leaned closer to his tiny and furry torso, Usopp told you stories about a war he once won but had to have his heart replaced by a lion´s, Franky said that if you wanted to see a heart he could simply pull it out for you, Brook invested on the same ¨Oh, I don´t have a heart. Yohohoho¨ joke, Zoro let you listen to his wrist, Nami and Robin almost had you sinking into their generous breasts, and Sanji... you left him for last because you didn´t know how to ask him. So you just tiptoed quietly inside the kitchen, sneaked behind him, and tried to listen to his heart through his back. You feared that your nose would start bleeding if he faced you while you were doing it.

That was exactly what he did, by the way. He poured more water into the stew he was cooking and turned around, putting out his cigarette so ashes wouldn´t fall on you. Immediately you began to sweat, your breath quickened, and hold the stethoscope with a steady hand became a herculean task.

His lean fingers moved to the collar of his blue shirt and started to unbutton a few, enough for you to have better access. At that point, you believed that the reason why you weren´t bleeding yet was that you were slowly having a stroke, and Sanji´s action was God´s gift to you for being a good person while alive.

Then he didn´t do anything else, just put both hands in his pockets and waited while you listened to every single bubble popping inside his chest like you were afraid to miss one. In the end, he tucked a lock of hair behind your ear and went back to his stew.

But that was all about it. The following months were just like any other, the crew kept acting as weird as their minds allowed, and you kept shutting whatever your stupid heart was yelling at you. Although... if you could be honest for one moment, deep down you were hurt.

Maybe you scared or crept him away with your childish curiosity. Maybe he had noticed your feelings for him and got disgusted. Well, not disgusted, he probably didn´t like you the same way and didn´t know how to tell you, so keeping words to a minimum was his way to go.

He stopped singing and twirling around you, he´d rather call your name respectfully; when you shared the night watches, he just remained quiet by your side, answering briefly to your questions or comments; he even stopped trying to sneak into your baths or make suggestive comments - which you didn´t love before, but you know, you only miss something when it's gone.

The whole crew had noticed the change in both of your behaviors, but they too were not sure how to address it. Whenever someone asked something about it you would say ¨Really? I didn´t notice anything.¨. Either too proud to confront him or too afraid of the truth.

¨Oi, you ok?¨ Zoro asked, breaking into your personal bubble of sadness.

You knew it was Zoro because you two were taking the night watch, but you didn´t expect him to show interest or concern about your upset state.

The night was chilly, so you were sitting on Sunny´s grass, arms around your knees, holding them close to your chest to keep the warmth.

¨Why do you care?¨ you answered bitterly, but he didn´t mind since he was the king of freaking Bitter Land.

¨I don´t. But I´ll go crazy if I hear you sigh one more time.¨ he sat close to you, not too close, just enough for you to listen to each other.

A chuckle left your mouth involuntarily, you never expected his grouchy temper would come in handy in times like this. Then your frowned expression came back, and you let out another sigh.

Before you realized Zoro had pushed you with his Sandai Kitetsu scabbard, making you fall to your side with a squeak.

¨I told you.¨

You sat again, taking some grass off your leg ¨Yeah. Can´t deny it.¨

¨Yeah, you´ve been doing that a lot lately.¨

He didn´t look like he was teasing you, his eyes focusing on the line where the sky met the ocean, where the stars disappeared and became blurry white brushes on the water.

¨I... I don´t-¨

¨I think you can do better than the stupid cook.¨he kept his usual tone ¨ But I guess we don´t get to choose these things.¨

You were taken aback by his words, and despite you trying to fight your lips from trembling and tears from falling, it was useless. You had been crushing these feelings inside you for too long, and it killed you the more you ignored it.

The swordsman wasn´t saying those things because he loved you or anything like that, but because the entire crew - except for Luffy - had already noticed and began acting weird about it. And despite being the captain´s duty to solve any problem or an uncomfortable situation, your captain was a bit too oblivious, so he had to step in.

Besides, his nakama was getting hurt. He didn´t care about the ero cook.

¨If you want me to beat him up... just let me know.¨

He said it to cheer you up - not that he didn´t mean, he´d do it for much less - but nothing seemed worth smiling for now. You just bit your lip in order to avoid an embarrassing whining, since you were unable to stop the painful tears from rolling down your cheeks.

Everything hurt, and for the first time, you wished to forget what the ocean sounded like.

¨W-What should I do?¨

¨That´s not my problem to solve, Y/N.¨ he stood up beside you ¨But sometimes, when I have a difficult problem that I can´t solve my way...¨ his gaze still locked with the horizon ¨... I think about what my captain would do.¨ he left without any further words, leaving you not only sad but confused as well.

You slept on it for the next couple of days, still not understanding what he meant. Maybe he just wanted to leave the conversation and said whatever came to mind. But even that didn´t fit right. If he didn´t want to be stuck in an uncomfortable conversation, he wouldn´t have started one.

So you took as a personal mission to observe your captain until you learned how to think like him, hoping that figuring that out would solve your problem.

You had joined the crew as a historian, the person responsible for writing down every adventure meticulously, every tiny detail of every battle, and every glorious victory along the Strawhats journey. So in one dusk, when you were in charge of the night watch with Robin and the moon was full and bright, you took your journals and began rolling through the pages, looking for a pattern, something that anticipated every major decision of your captain.

You even borrowed old diaries from the time you were not part of their crew. The stories lacked details, but they served to paint a picture. Basically:

Luffy insults an ugly lady, saves a kid, eats something, finds Zoro, beats the crap out of a crazy marine, saves the day, gets his first crewmate.

Luffy gets eaten by a bird, then vomited in a town, finds Nami, eats something, is put in a cage, beat the crap out of some pirates, saves the day.

Luffy wants a new ship, meets Usopp, eats something, gets thrown from a cliff, beats the crap out of some pirates, saves the day, gets Going Merry and a liar.

Luffy wants a cook, explodes a restaurant, becomes a waiter, eats something, meets Sanji, beats the crap out of some pirates, saves the day, gets a cook.

Luffy eats something, finds the fishmen, goes for a walk, is thrown in the water, beats the crap out of some pirates, saves the day, gets a navigator.

Luffy wants a doctor, eats everything, fights some crazy ass bunnies, climbs a mountain, meets Chopper, beats the crap out of some pirates, saves the day, gets a doctor.

Luffy eats something, wants to fix Going Merry, meets Franky, loses Robin, beats the crap out of some world government agents, saves the day, gets an archeologist, a shipwright, and Thousand Sunny.

Luffy hears a ghoulish singing, finds a speaking skeleton in a busted ship, has his shadow stolen, beats the crap out of some Warlord of the Sea, gets a musician.

When you finished the last journal, the weight of your body pushed you to the floor, and you laid on your back for a couple of minutes, overwhelmed by the amount of information in your head.

¨I know what to do...¨ you took a deep breath ¨... I´m gonna eat something.¨

You mumbled something to Robin, telling her that you´d be back in a few minutes, and wandered to the kitchen.

As soon as you entered the room a sweet and comforting aroma like whipped cream and strawberries invaded your senses, making your head turn to the counter immediately.

¨Y/N-chan...¨ the cook said.

You opened and closed your mouth a couple of times, looked at him, and then to your feet, your fingers fidgeting as a sign of your anxious state.

¨D-Didn't know you were awake.¨ you marched to the table and helped yourself with some sugar cookies.

¨Oh... It won´t take much longer...¨ you heard his muffled voice somewhere in the back of your mind, all you could hear was the blood pumping in your ears ¨... cake because today is my birthday and I thought we...¨ your vision was focused on the cookie jar, crushing the granular biscuit with your fingertips ¨...and I...I didn´t know if-¨

¨What would Luffy do?¨ you whispered to yourself.

¨W-What?¨

¨What would Luffy do?¨

The question wasn´t for him, it was for you. You felt something growing inside your chest, like the blood that pumped in your heart was boiling and burning, giving you the strength and courage you needed.

¨I have been trying to find answers to a lot of things, you know?¨ you stood up to face the cook, palms spread on the table, ¨I ... do you hate me, Sanji?¨

He stopped what he was doing and let the knife rest on the cutting board. When his gaze found yours, there was no way back. That is what Luffy would do. He´d eat something, do whatever came to his mind, and deal with the consequences. No need to go back.

¨Y/N-chan... why do you...¨

¨I mean, I ask this because...¨ you clenched your hands, cursing yourself for feeling the need to cry ¨I can´t take this anymore, Sanji! If I did something to offend you or if I said something...¨ your voice was broken and weak, and you were a mess of tears and sobs ¨You don´t have to love me back, that´s not what I am saying, but... I can´t stand-¨

¨Y/N-chan... why do you think I hate you?¨ he wiped his hands with a towel and made his way towards you, slowly.

¨Oh, come on, Sanji... You treat me differently, you´re cold and distant, you don´t say a word to me even when we share night shifts! If you don´t hate me, then this must be a sick game you´re playing.¨ your legs felt wobbly, and you sat back in the chair, not being able to face him anymore. The courage and strenght you had minutes ago was gone.

You just watched him get closer and kneel in front of you, his cold fingers gently brushing away the hot tears on your cheeks.

¨I could never hate you, Y/N.¨ he said softly ¨I am sorry I made you feel like this, I am sorry I made you cry...¨ his fingers touched your trembling lips.

¨Then why...¨

¨I didn´t want to scare you away like I always do, Y/N... I know I can be too much sometimes, with the nose bleeding and everything. But that´s how I am, and I didn´t want you to think of me as an idiot... so I prefer being silent, then say something stupid and... ¨

¨You don´t have to say this. I don´t need pity talk...¨you spoke as more tears fell, giving him a chance to take his statement back.

¨I have to, Y/N. But not because of pity talk.¨ he gently pressed his forehead against yours, like bunnies do when they apologize.

¨Then why?¨

¨Because I love you, Y/N.¨ the blonde closed the space left between the two of you, kissing you passionately.

He helped you get up without breaking the kiss and leaned you against the kitchen table, his hands holding your body close while yours ran through his golden hair. His mouth tasted like strawberries and cigarettes, a flavor to which you could easily get addicted.

You parted the kiss just enough to get some oxygen, your noses were touching, and you could feel his heavy breathing against your skin.

¨I didn´t know today is your birthday...¨ you whispered, afraid that this was a dream and you´d wake up alone again.

¨Yeah, I was hoping to get a Happy Birthday from you, you know.¨ he chuckled.

¨I think you´ll be getting more than that.¨

You stared into each other´s eyes for a moment before he pulled you to a hug. When you leaned against his warm chest you heard it again, the same babble of the ocean, only this time you smiled, knowing that it wanted to listen to your stories and secrets as well.

¨Sanji?¨

¨Hm?¨

¨Happy Birthday... I love you.¨

¨I love you too, Y/N.¨ he kissed you again.

¨Please, don´t have sex on the dinner table.¨ you jumped when Robin spoke.

When you turned, you saw all your crewmates dressed in pajamas and messy hair staring back at you with sparkly sleepy eyes. You spot Zoro back in the crowd, you smiled and gave him a silent ¨Thank you.¨. You couldn´t help but wonder how the guy who manages to gets lost walking down a straight path was able to guide some sense into you.

In any way, you´ve found it. Inside of his chest, inside of his heart was the All Blue you heard so much of. Maybe that was the thing with it, and why only a few people found it. Everyone assumes that it is a place, where the four Blues meet, but it´s easy to forget that when you´re a pirate the ocean becomes the essence of who you are.

Little did you know that Sanji had found his All Blue too.

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