#your praise her when she valued her privacy and now you look back on that and say she was in jail? | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

splishsplashyouretrash · 4 years ago

Note

Hello!!! So you want a smut request? You get a smut request! So can I ask dom! Suna Rintaro x Sub! Shy! fem! reader that wants secretly do light bondaged (her hands and ankles handcuffed/or is use with rope and be blindfolded.)? And Suna find out by reading her Diary secretly. So he wants later suprise her.( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) She forget to lock her Diary and put in the bedside table when she was doing something, (like taking a shower or making food or dry the clothes from the washing machine or something else. Oh and it's a scenario/one-shot.

all tied up (18+)

hi lovely, here's what i've done for your request, i hope you like it!! ❤️ also there's potential for a part two if you or anyone else would be interested ;)

characters: soft dom!suna x shy sub fem!reader - timeskip suna just to clarify

warnings: smut, minors do not interact, curse words, soft dom, light bondage (handcuffs), praise, slight degradation, overstimulation perhaps...

word count: 1174

suna had always found it adorable how you would sit in bed and pour words into that little diary of yours and he’d by lying if he said he wasn’t interested to see what went on in that pretty head of yours. he knew better than to disrespect your privacy, he had always been such a sweetheart to you and he saw you as such an angel that he could never imagine there would be anything bad written in the diary. he kept telling himself that it couldn’t be anything that he wouldn’t know about as you had learnt to open up over the months despite being shy - he trusted you.

all of those thought flew out the window when the chance arose. you had once again been writing away until you said you were going to head for a shower. you tucked the diary into the bedside drawer it always lay in except you didn’t check to see if you had locked it. if anyone had been present in the room, they would’ve sworn that suna’s eyes lit up when he saw this opportunity staring back at him. he waited until he could distinctly hear the shower being turned on before he reached over the bed and took the diary into his hands. his values were long gone as he flipped it open, cautiously listening for when you would be back. the pages felt smooth under his calloused fingertips as he flicked to a random page and started to read your inked words. he felt his jaw drop a little as the realisation hit him that you weren’t this sweet innocent princess he had always perceived you as. But instead you were talking - no, begging - about how badly you wanted to submit to him, how you wanted to be tied down and let him have his way with you. he had to admit that he’d fucked his fist many times thinking about being dominant with you but he had never dared bring it up with you, until now.

the water had stopped. he realised this too late as you came in and shamefully caught him right in the act. you lunged forward trying to snatch it from his hands and whining about how he wasn’t meant to read that. in your efforts to try and retrieve it, you had let go of your towel which now lay on the floor and when the both of you realised this, you hurried to cover yourself with a blush setting on your cheeks.

“suna you bastard, you give it back!” your exasperated tone was made clear as he handed it back with a defeated look on his face.

“babyyy why didn’t you tell me you were such a little slut?” he purred as he pulled you onto his lap. “you know i would’ve happily obliged baby, i’m happy to try anything as long as it makes you feel good.” his words made your y/e/c eyes widen and a pout formed on your lips. you told him that you didn’t think that he’‘d be up for it to which he violently shook his head, rejecting your claim.

the two of you sat closely spoke about it for a while, what it was exactly that you wanted which turned out was what he had waned to. he proposed a date later that night and afterwards the two of you could try it out, something that made you incredibly nervous as the only times you had been intimate was pretty vanilla and you didn’t have the heart to tell him you had to make yourself cum afterwards. you were so focused on making sure he felt good that you had neglected your own needs and wants. that was something both you and suna were determined to change tonight.

after spending a few hours getting food and walking around, happily enjoying each other’s presence, you tugged at his shirt and asked to go home. he greeted you with a smile and a sweet peck on the lips. when you got inside, you were met with an array of things sprawled out on the bed that suna must’ve done before you two headed out. you walked over, kicking off your shoes and picking up the handcuffs, the cool metal soothing your skin. you turned around to find him pushing you onto the bed. his thigh pressed your legs apart as his lips met yours before he moved down to place hot kisses down your neck. looking up at you, he watched you writhe under him and could only begin to imagine the pretty sounds you’ll be making once you’re all tied down and spread for him. as much as he wanted to savour taking your clothes off, he needed you and soon enough, his hands found purchase in the middle of your dress. a loud rip echoed through the room as you looked at him in shock. he immediately set his hands on you, your legs wrapping around his waist which only brought him closer.

“you sure you wanna do this, love? tell me yellow to slow down and red to stop okay princess?” you nodded eagerly as you watched him reach for the handcuffs, anticipation heating your thighs. he took your wrists into his hands and wrapped the metal around them before securing them to the bed frame. with open-mouthed kisses trailing down your body, he repeated his previous actions to your ankles until you were lying there helpless and spread for him. your slit and thighs glistened with your slick as he bent down and licked a stripe up it. he heard your breathing hitch so he kept going, grabbing at your thighs as if he was trying to go even deeper with his tongue, alternating to wrap his lips around your clit. god you sounded oh so pretty like this as he could feel your desperation through your whimpers as the knot tightened in your core, begging to cum.

“babygirl i wanna hear you beg for me okay, use that pretty voice to ask nicely” you were barely keeping it together at this point, he was cruelly keeping you on edge like never before but soon enough you found yourself stringing out incoherent pleas. your eyes rolled back as you felt the pleasure almost rip through your exposed body, accompanied by a slur of his name. you gasped when you felt his hand return to your pussy, suna’s skilled fingers worked up your body until they found your tits, gently playing with your nipples which elicited a whine from you.

“such lewd noises you’re making pretty girl, and what a mess too hmm it’s a pity you’re so worked up i haven’t even fucked you yet” he lowly growled into your ear as you felt his straining cock through his jeans. despite feeling slight fear at his words, you couldn’t help the wetness pooling between your thighs again as you watched him start to strip off right in front of you - all tied up.

150 notes · View notes

ikevamp-shrine · 4 years ago

Text

Thank you @yanderepuck for giving me the courage to post this😊❤

Please ignore the crappy drawing of her, but that's kinda what she appears like in my mind. I will be writing with her character in future posts.

Name: Elizabeth Tudor

Vampire Type: Lesser Vampire

Height: 5’4

Birthday: September 7th

Occupation: Former Queen of England

Appearance:

Long, curly (and extremely thick) strawberry blonde hair, fair skin, red lips, and intense icy blue eyes. Her stance is strong, regale, and respectable. Her skin is littered with smallpox scars (only a few, very unnoticeable ones residing on her face, neck, and hands). Her expression is usually blank and unreadable. Her movements are controlled and polite. Her brows thick and stomach soft. Legs long and fingers thin and graceful. There are patches of freckles on her shoulders that mix with her scars causing a unique blend of color. Thick thighs and pale, maintained feet. Smaller breasts.

Childhood:

When her brother, Edward, was born from her father and his new wife, Catherine, her line to the throne was pushed back even further (she was declared third in line). Thankfully she was not neglected instead her father, known for his cruelty, treated all his children with affection and love. She became very close with her half brother and was said to be inseparable. She was also very close with and benefited from the love her step mother, Catherine, showed her.

She was taught a rigorous education normally only given to male heirs and was applauded for her perseverance and memory. She became fluent in French and Italian which profited when conducting diplomacy years later. Her involvement with the Reformation shaped the course of the nation, but she held no interest in religion.

With her father’s death, her step mother married the lord high admiral, Thomas, which resulted in his decapitation due to his intent to rape and impregnate Elizabeth forcing her to marry him in order for him to rule the kingdom. He was said to be overly flirtatious and acting inappropriately familiar with the young girl when around her (which one of the reasons she doesn’t like Arthur, his flirtatious nature reminds her of her past).

She was raised around sexism and taught that women were likely to act on impulsion and passion making them unfit to rule. Men were taught the arts of war and told they are the ones who dominate women while women were urged to keep their head down, mouth shut, and attend their needlework. She had remained unmarried, her want to remain single overshadowing any thoughts of seeking out relations with a man. She was rumored to have burst out in tears when Queen Mary, her older sister, had proposed to marry Elizabeth to a duke. This became a national concern when Elizabeth became queen and refused to take a husband, going against the belief that a woman’s place was a wife. It also raised worries that she would die childless, ending her bloodline, and giving Elizabeth’s title to Mary, Queen of Scots, a catholic posing a threat to the Protestants of England.

Dislikes:

her privacy being intruded on, loud talking, 3am, those who play weak and stupid or whine to get what they want, people who are lazy but still expect to reach their goals, women who chase men and believe they need a man to be successful in life, messy rooms, fake personalities and cheaters (in both games and relationships)

Likes:

walks in the garden at midnight, the sound of the birds singing their life’s song as the warmth of the day’s first rays of sun trace her skin, reading, learning new things, burning candles, smiling faces, happy children, the smell of freshly baked bread, warm blankets, animals, the laughter of children, hunting, dancing, and horseback (bareback more often than naught)

Personality:

She appears cold at first because of her bluntness and blank (almost annoyed) expression. Unreasonably serious with a strong sense of duty, responsibility, and morals. She is a firm believer in working harder than everyone else to achieve greatness. A highly intelligent woman that believe women are equal to their male counterpart. Extremely stubborn in a non-disrespectful way. She is adaptable, disciplined, dignified, and confident with a wit and tongue as sharp as, if not sharper, than any of the residents. She is blunt, doesn’t sugarcoat the truth, and is always honest. Focused, logical, and exceedingly loyal to those she decides to put her trust in. She is protective and straightforward but rather quiet. She tends to keep to herself. She is paranoid and distrustful when meeting new people but will not show it. She tries to work on it, but she can be very vengeful when it comes to people betraying her or hurting those she loves.

Preferred company:

Theo, Leonardo, Isaac, Jean, Vincent

Relationships (platonic, romantic, etc.):

Jean- platonic with a chance of something more

Has a deep understanding with Jean. They don’t really talk about each other to each other; their conversations mainly consist of stiff, dead toned jokes that you wouldn’t be able to tell they were jokes until specified. She is one of the few people that has actually seen a sober Jean smile. He is extremely protective of her and will stand behind her just so he has the peace of mind that her back is guarded. If she asked, he would show her what is under his eye patch, no matter what lingering emotions he has on the ‘ugliness under the fabric’. His blade is always ready, his mind perfectly clear, when it comes to the safety and well being of the woman he had found himself connecting to in ways no one had before. Often, they go horse back riding together, Napoleon will sometimes accompany but its only when her and the former solider are alone does she throw her head back, her laughs unrestrained while the wind rips through her hair and clothing. Jean will race her and chuckle at how free she looks, but of course she doesn’t hear. Spares with and helps better the woman’s defenses and attacks along with Napoleon

Mozart- platonic

Sometimes Mozart look for her and demand Elizabeth to listen to his new piece until she raises an eyebrow, daring him not to correct his wording. He’ll swallow thickly and glance off to the side, a scoff on his lips as he apologizes. She’ll nod and follow him to music room. Mozart will stare at her impatiently until she gives her honest (and extremely blunt) opinion. He values her words and while alone the pianist will replay the slight quirk of her lips as she praised his efforts. He has a small obsession with her and it drives him insane

Vincent- brotherly platonic and Theo- they horny for each other but don’t want to cross that line of friendship so they dance around their feelings while making out every once in a while

Has a soft spot for Theo and Vincent because their relationship makes her think of her brother. She only sees Vincent as a brother and will only allow him to do her makeup when he asks to, but with Theo its completely different. She sees Theo as a partner, a man she shares many values and goals with. She respects him and their shared opinions on responsibility and productivity. They understand each other intuitively and can conversate with just fleeting touches and quick glances of their eyes. There is a thick sexual tension that builds between them overtime resulting in hurried, frantic, sloppy kisses in hallways where the couple battle for dominance by pushing each other against walls and gripping roughly at the other’s clothing

Napoleon- just housemates (not friends or lovers)

She can and usually feels uncomfortable when around Napoleon. She has chalked it down to the fact they are both the leader ‘alpha’ types that ruled enemy lands. Truly, they just don’t have much in common and find it hard to build a meaningful relationship. Spares with and helps better the woman’s defenses and attacks along with Jean

Arthur- just housemates

Can sometimes get too snippy with Arthur. While she does find enjoyment in his jokes at times, she despises the sexual aspects of the author. Finds his skirt chasing habits understandable but disgusting. Admires his intelligence but can’t stand how he is able to tell you where have been just by the dust on your hand (she likes her privacy). Will play chess and pool with him even though she knows she will lose just because she enjoys playing. Will sometimes have deep conversations with Arthur in front of the fire place, both nursing a glass of alcohol, their eyes never leaving the fire as to not break the imaginary protective barrier around the two that eye contact will shatter. Smirks at his quirks and jokes sometimes and it literally makes Arthur’s heart leap because ‘damn a queen just found amusement in my joke.’ He internally freaked out the first time he met her mainly because the mansion now had two previous rulers instead of one and the newest one scared the living daylights out of him.

Comte- there is nothing between them

Doesn’t trust Comte as far as she can throw him. She can see the darkness in his heart and his past behind his eyes. She can see the death he’s caused- the pain, and while she knows that she, herself, has caused the death of many, she still has a deeply rooted gut feeling telling her to stay away from the pureblood. He wants her trust but soon realizes her opinion on him is similar to Jean’s. She will not take any gifts other than what is necessary from him (ex. Dresses for parties)

Dazai- just housemates

Dazai tries avoiding her. He feels suffocated when around and the victim of her stare. He feels as if her eyes and actions pick him apart and leave his in his barest, rawest form, and it scares him to no end. She does find his window habit hilarious though and will give him a hand up when he falls

Shakespeare- they don’t get involved with each other

She can tell Shakespeare’s mind is being manipulated, by what is the question she has yet to reveal though. She can tell he is dangerous. One who’s actions are watched and controlled by another always are. His unpredictable nature and mysterious, secret filled smile is what causes her to feel uneasy around him. She doesn’t ignore him, but she doesn’t want to be involved with the playwright and his actions so she tends to just quietly leave the room when he enters. He is polite to her and compliments her when they do talk but his fancy wording sometimes annoys Elizabeth, especially when she just wants to get away from him. She believes he is a good man at heart lead astray by forces more powerful than him, but still finds his company rather unnecessary.

Sebastian- they respect one another, are not friends but have decent conversations

Has an interesting relationship with Sebastian. She wouldn’t call him a friend, she has very few of those so it is understandable, but she does respect him for his work ethic just as he respects her for her accomplishments and standing in history. She let him interview him once and nearly laughed out loud from how excited he got. They always have a cup of coffee or tea in the morning together, Elizabeth not quite woken up yet so they sip in comforting silence. Sebastian usually asks how she slept and she responds by telling him about her dreams if she had one. She’ll end up helping him cook breakfast.

Leonardo- friends with a chance of something more

Elizabeth appreciates Leonardo’s straightforwardness and honesty, so they have a decent trusting relationship, but his matureness makes her feel like a little girl again and it bothers her. Her thoughts tend to be: she was a queen; she ruled a country with a strength that rivaled even the greatest men, she should not look at this chain-smoking man with admiration in her eyes like a giddy school girl, flustered over a boy telling her she is cute, while around the Italian. The start of their relationship was rocky, due to Elizabeth’s personal feelings on the man- Leonardo could have cared less, but soon enough they started to appreciate each other’s qualities. Leonardo is mainly the only one she allows to touch her hair. They often speak Italian together on the balcony as Leonardo smoke a cigarillo and Elizabeth reads.

Isaac- they have the chance of being more than friends but their relationship is mainly just comforting one another through their presence and (when needed) touch- they also trust each other whole heartedly

Adores Isaac and will purposely sought him out just so she can listen to his calming ramblings while he tinkers away, a book in her hand and two cooling cups of coffee on the surface closest to the pair. He gets so red around her; at times he turns snow white from the intensity in her gaze and how her eyes never stray from her company. They share an endless loyalty to each other. Neither knows when the bond form, it just happened on its own (and very suddenly). Isaac has lost control and bit her but instead of reacting in anger she accepted it and pulled him closer, shuddering with each frenzied suck against her neck, her nails gently scratching the scalp of a whimpering Isaac. When Isaac finally came to his senses, he tried pulling away, his voice thick with unshed tears as his panicked words rang through the air until Elizabeth grabbed him and held him close, shushing Isaac as he trembled with regret and guilt in her arms. They had held each other for hours until they feel asleep in each other embraces. Isaac will link pinkies with Elizabeth when he is being picked on without realizing it for support and something to ground him so his thoughts don’t run too wild. Elizabeth will just glare and clear her throat and Arthur will shut his mouth while looking at the former queen as if he was a kicked puppy. She has a habit of fixing his clothing or hair after he nervously pulls, picks, or twists at it- Isaac doesn’t even notice it after a while. His face does burn intensely though when she places a hand on his overactive, bouncing knee when he is anxious.

Fun facts:

Due to her makeup being poisoned by her undetermined enemy, which resulted in her death, she refuses to wear any cosmetics other than what Vincent personally makes (learned how to from Leonardo) and puts on her skin himself when going to events if he asks to.

She tends to wear clothing that covers all skin other than her neck and face when leaving the mansion due to children being scared by her smallpox scars.

She usually never strays from wine unless her emotions become a little too overwhelming for her to just push the feelings down, only then will she drink something stronger.

Elizabeth is a quiet, peaceful drunk that tends to curl up on the couch, her shoes discarded on the floor, her hair loose and flowing over the decorative pillow she’ll grab and hug tightly to her chest.

She died a virgin and has remained one ever since her resurrection.

The former queen is hesitant to allow others to touch her hair from her past concerning the loss of said strands (a result of surviving smallpox), but if she trusts someone enough and knows they’ll be gentle she’ll let them style the curls, even if she is tense the entire time.

Prefers to braid her hair herself and wrap in into a bun due to the protective nature of the style.

Loves sleeping in but is often unable to due to insomnia.

She is highly particular when it comes to cleaning and organization. She has told Sebastian not to worry about cleaning her things or doing her laundry, instead she does it herself with up most focus and determination.

When she does open up or is around the boys long enough, they realize her heart is truly kind and nurturing instead of what she appears when first met (a cold-hearted woman with a resolve like steel). This is especially apparent when around animals.

She is very sarcastic and doesn’t mean any harm but usually her joking words sound hateful due to her dead tone and blank face.

Her voice is deeper and soothing, most times holding no emotion which creeps Dazai and Arthur out

Lives by “no pain no gain”

Doesn’t waste her breath on hate- if she doesn’t like someone or feels as if she can’t trust them then they just don’t exist to her. She won’t hesitate to cut someone off without warning.

Has a bad habit of bottling her emotions which causes her to explode when pushed over the edge resulting in one of the very rare moments where her anger creates an electric static in the room that demands the attention of anyone present. She doesn’t shout or scream but her words are sharper than a blade, her eyes burn with a fiery rage while she takes control of the room, overwhelming anyone (even Napoleon) and making them feel as if they are an ant beneath her boot.

Her eyes freak many people out- they feel as if the ice like orbs are staring straight into their soul, picking apart their insides, leaving nothing but shredded organs and an empty husk of what used to be a strong mind.

Can always tell when someone is lying. It’s a gut feeling, and her gut is always right.

She still wears her coronation ring on her wedding finger as a sign of her symbolic marriage to her people and country

#ikemen vampire #ikevamp #ikemen series #ikevam #ikevamp oc #ikemen vampire oc #ikevam oc #elizabeth tudor #Ikevamp Elizabeth #ikemen vampire Elizabeth #ikevam Elizabeth

86 notes · View notes

dragonfiremage · 5 years ago

Text

When We First Met

Author’s Note: I couldn’t get this out of my head last night so I spent all day on this. I wanted to build on Under the Moonlight so I wrote a prequel for it. I hope you enjoy it!

Summary: With the rise of insurgents and the recent break-in in his room following his coronation as Firelord, Zuko agrees, at Suki's recommendation, to increase security around the palace and hire a Kyoshi warrior guard at him at night. Good thing Suki knows the right person for the job - you.

At first, you weren't sure how you felt when Suki asked you to babysit the Firelord. When she first told you, you scoffed at the idea. Babysitting the firelord? How boriiing. You wanted where the action was! You wanted to chase down people and chi-block them...not watch over some Firelord while he slept.

But after some begging from Suki (and maybe a bribe of extra vacation day or two), you agreed.

The Firelord was a lot more handsome than you first thought when Suki introduces you to him. Zuko stood in front of you with a sheepish smile, before giving a small wave, "Hello, uh, I'm Firelord Zuko, but uh..you can just call me Zuko."

Beside him, Sokka guffaws and elbows Zuko, whispering, “Nice one, sifu hotman. You sounded real smooth there.”

Suki, who stood next to you with some notebooks against her chest, playfully throws a glare at Sokka, “Sokka, be nice."

Zuko turns red as he elbows Sokka back and glares at him before glancing back at you. A small smile tugs at the corner of your lips as you properly bow to him, your gold Kyoshi headband glinting from the oil lamps that were lit around the room.

"Its an honor, Firelord Zuko. I'm (YN) from Kyoshi Island."

Somewhere behind Zuko, Sokka snorts at the word honor. He walks past Zuko, who looks at Sokka with a perplexed gaze, and greets you warmly with a small hug, “Hey, (YN)! Mind if I whisk my girlfriend away now? I have this whole date night planned for tonight and we're on a tight schedule!"

Zuko blinks back in surprise. Sokka knew you? He watches you laugh warmly as you before patting Sokka’s shoulder, “Nice to see you too, Sokka. Have fun Suki, I can take it from here."

"Thank you again, (YN). I owe you one. Bye Zuko!"

Both Suki and Sokka leave the room, ther laughter echoing down the hallway as they talk over their date night plans. You glance back at Zuko who looks like he doesn’t know what to do next and you briefly think he looked rather cute when he was lost. You look over at his attire, his red and gold robes fitting him very well - the chest piece accentuating his shoulders and the gold bringing the color of his eyes.

'Definitely more handsome,' you think.

A beat of silence seem to stretch before Zuko cleared his throat to break it and asks, "So...uh...do...you need anything?"

Zuk mentally kicks himself. Why am I being so awkward?

You grin, one hand on your hip and the other motioned to the room,”No, but…do you mind if I take a look around?" Zuko nods in reply as he watches you slowly make your way around the room.

Zuko decides to lean against his desk and asks, “So.. you know Sokka?"

You were in the midst of inspecting his bookcase that shelved some books, trinkets, scrolls when you hear his question. Touching the at the dusty scroll on the shelf, you looked over your shoulder to meet Zuko’s gaze, wrinkle your nose at him as you replied with an amused tone, “Yes, he's kinda dating our team leader."

Zuko flushes with embarrassment and rubs the back of his neck sheepishly, “Right! Suki..."

He watches you disappear outside of his balcony before coming back in to inspect the area around it, moving some of the curtains around that framed the door. His eyes furrow in confusion, “What exactly are you doing...?"

You look over at his direction again and motioned to his balcony, “I’m just checking for any weak areas. Your balcony is high up along the wall which is good, but there are some blind spots below that might be a potential risk. I'll let Suki know to increase security around those areas after my shift."

All he could do was nod at you before you turn around again to look at the rest of his bedroom. You were thorough, Zuko gave you that and, instantly, he felt a little bit more at ease knowing you were doing your best for him.

Zuko quietly admitted that he felt unsure about having a Kyoshi warrior that he didn’t know guard him while he slept. He hoped Suki would take that task, but he knew that he asking too much from her and her busy schedule. But she placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder and recommended you instead. Praising your strength and loyalty. He agreed hesitantly. However, as he watched you examine his room closely, his concerns vanished. He was actually looking forward in getting to know you better.

Zuko pushes himself off the table and moves over to a shelf containing a tray of tea assortments that his Uncle gave him. While he poured some water into the pot, he wonders what kind of tea you would enjoy before grabbing the Jasmine.

"Would you like a cup of tea?” Zukko offers.

You peek from his walk-in closet and a easy smile tugs at the corner of you lips, “That would be lovely."

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

Your friendship with the Firelord quickly grew after your first night at the palace. And, just like you promised, you had let Suki know about the blind spots by his window the following day and Suki thanked you graciously.

The more time you spent with the Firelord, the less you were thinking of your assignment as babysitting. In fact, you were day dreaming about him more and more, especially during the times when you weren’t working.

Was he safe?

Did he eat lunch yet?

Was his advisors too demanding again?

…Was he thinking of you too?

When you were working, you tried to stay professional but amicable towards him, but you longed to get to know him in a more intimate level. It didn’t help that you would melt in a puddle every time you glanced over at him while he slept peacefully.

Other than that, watching over Zuko was an easy job.

For the most part, Zuko kept to a routine, whether he knew that our not. You would arrive at your post just before sunset, and by that time he was either wrapping up his last meeting with his advisors, or he was already in his room, reading some official documents or signing proclamations before dinner. He would then drink tea, making sure to pour you one as well. Then he would retire for the night as you took your post against a pillar in the balcony.

So when you had arrived for your post that evening, you were surprised when the guards directed you to the palace gardens. And even more surprised when you saw the Firelord leaning over a pond, as he played with the turtleducks. Zuko greets you with a nod and goes back to to observing the ducklings.

You quietly took your post, placing your hands behind you, one hand grabbing the opposite wrist. You made sure you were were far away enough to give Zuko some privacy, but close enough to reach him if danger arose.

The setting sun lit everything with an orange glow, and you couldn’t help but close your eyes at the warmth, the winds picking up briefly and causing your your tassels to sway lightly. You peeped over at Zuko and the gentle curve of his smile makes your heart flutter with fondness. He lightly strokes the head of one of the ducklings as he coos at them sweetly. You couldn't help but let a smile spread across your face as you looked around the grounds for any threat.

When you first agreed to look after the Firelord, you thought it was going to be some boring assignment. However, being his guard gave you a glimpse behind the curtain and see Zuko on a more personal level.

For the past few days, Zuko kept surprising you with his commitment to maintaining peace among the nations, the way he listened to the problems of his people before jumping into action, and the way he stood firm on his convictions and values. He was a man of honor and it made you that much more loyal to him.

But, as you watch him pet his turtleducks, you realized that you would do anything to protect Zuko. The way his eyes gleamed with affection when he watched the turtleducks, the way he cooed at them so sweetly, and the way he carefully petted them as of if they would break under his touch. Despite the pain and abuse he faced from his father and the personal trials he went through to get where he was now, you concluded that Zuko was just a gentle dragon with a heart of gold. And you would do anything to protect that.

With great interest, you watch him grab some feed from a bag as he approached one of the ducks. However, one of the ducklings accidentally nibbles too hard at Zuko’s finger, mistaking it for feed. He yelps in surprise, scaring the turtleducks away as they scatter and before you could control it, you snort in before turning your head to the side to stifle your laughter.

“You think that’s funny?"

Your eyes widen at Zuko’s voice, embarrassed at being caught you laughing at him. You shift uncomfortably, trying to come up for a excuse while silently thanking the spirits for the white face make up you wore that was currently hiding your red cheeks.

Clearing your throat, you reply, "Uh, it was nothing, your majesty. Just something in my throat." You lie quickly, your face back to it's stoic expression.

Zuko stood and dusted his robes before smirking, "Right, so what I heard was coughing just now? Not laughing?"

Your cheeks burn with embarrassment, “Uh, yes sir.”

Keeping your eyes trained in front of you, you maintained a straight face.

He hums in acknowledgement before adding, “Lying considered a criminal offense in the Kyoshi code, is it not?”

You braved a glance his way, catching his eyes before looking straight ahead. His tone was serious, but his gaze was soft and playful.

A smirk tugs at the corner of your lips as you stood your ground, shoulders rolling back straight before replying, “Yes, Firelord Zuko, that’s correct.”

Zuko crosses his arms as if trying to look intimidating, but you knew better, “So, let me ask you again, (YN), did you think that was funny?”

Your smile at the teasing. Instead of responding to him, however, you break from your post to walk over to him by the edge of the pond. A puzzled look came over his face as he watches you stand near him, his eyes catching yours before crouching down. He watched with curiosity as you bring your hands together and place it in front of you your mouth before releasing air through it and creating a series of sounds resembling that of a turtle duck call.

Zuko’s eyes widened at the sound but gasped when he saw the baby turtleducks swim over with excitement. You playfully twirl your fingers around them as they swam happily before extending your hand out to him. But Zuko just blinks at it with a blank stare, confused.

You laugh lightly at his expression, bringing Zuko’s gaze back to your face. His heart quickened at the slight smirk of your red lips. “Can I have some feed, my lord?”

A flush of embarrassment rushes to his face as he coughs nervously. “Oh! Uh…yes, here some feed.”

You grab some from his hand, trying to not think how your fingers tingled where they touched his warm skin. Bringing it to the pond, the turtleducks quack with delight as they swim closer. You let out a squeal of delight when they pushed their beaks into your hand, tickling the palm of your hand.

A smile breaks across of Zuko's face as he feels his insides flutter at the sound of your laughter. He quietly observes you with a lazy smile as you continued to kneel by pond, the sun setting behind you. The orange glow made you look more radiant that evening and he couldn’t help but feel a tug towards you.

Zuko chest tightened as he observed your more tender side. He honestly thought that you took your job a little too seriously. You were always on edge, as if ready to pounce at danger at any given moment. You were always thinking about his safety. Always checking and double checking the area to make sure it was clear before he could walk in. Always looking through his room in case someone was hiding within the curtains or under his bed. Always making sure he was safe. He hope to see this side of you more in the coming days.

But ever since you took up this job, Zuko noticed his sleep improving, even if they were minor improvements. Just knowing that you were there to protect him was enough to quiet his nightmares and worries. He smiles fondly above you, mentally making a note to thank Suki later. After all, she was the one who recommended you for the job.

As Zuko watches you observe the turtleducks fondly, Zuko realizes that he, too, would do anything to protect you.

#atla zuko x reader #zuko x reader #prince zuko x reader #zuko x you #firelord zuko x reader

550 notes · View notes

chemist-ana · 4 years ago

Text

Chapter 9. The Ride Along— Sams POV

Book: The Nanny Affair

Characters: Sam, Ana Schuyler (MC), Robin

Pairing: Sam Dalton (male) x Ana Schuyler (MC)

Rating: 18+

Content Warning: NSFW, Sexual Language, Adult Language, Sexual Situations

A/N This is a brand new series that I was inspired to write. I am going to go chapter by chapter in Sam Daltons POV. This story is completely inspired by Choices The Nanny Affair. I have used most of the dialogue from the actual story, anything written in BOLD was taken directly from the book and therefore is not my writing- credit to our good friends over at Pixelberry! All characters are credit to Pixelberry except for my OCs

Summary: When an office tour of Dalton Enterprises takes a turn, who will be left picking up the pieces?

Word Count: 5800

Tag List: @txemrn @secretaryunpaid @lifeaskim @aussieez @pixie88 @thefrenchiemama @sfb123 @mainstreetreader @shewillreadyou @khoicesbyk @lady-calypso @choicesficwriterscreations @somersetmummy @melalicious8383

I hear the elevator ding and glance at my watch, 6:15… who is here this early?

“Oh good, you are awake.” Sofia strolls into the penthouse, setting her bag on the bar and resting her hands on her lips. “We need to talk.” Oh great…

I fold the newspaper and set it down on the counter, bringing my coffee to my lips and taking a small sip before focusing my eyes on her. I wait for her to start… its too early for me to play these games.

“That little stunt that Ana pulled last night was completely unacceptable.” She purses her lips and narrows her eyes at me. “I can’t have someone under our employment treating my family like that.”

I bite my tongue with a sigh… first of all, she is under my employment… not ‘ours’.

“Sofia… the boys love her… I really don’t want to do this to them.” I choose my words carefully as to not give away my true feelings… I have never lied so much in my life…

“Sam, it was embarrassing and out of line.” Red color rises up her neck as the volume of her voice rises.

“Come on, Sofia. Don’t you think you’re being a little irrational here?” I plead.

“She completely humiliated my father in front of everyone! Some of the club staff heard her.” She takes a step toward me, lifting and pointing one long manicured finger at my chest.

“She was defending you.” Now I am starting to get annoyed, this really isn’t up to you Sofia.

“I don’t care. There’s a way to handle that sort of situation and that wasn’t it. I want her fired immediately.”

“Look, I will take care of it, but there is absolutely no way I am letting her go. That is not even up for discussion, and it ultimately is not up to you.” I turn from her and pick up my coffee, effectively ending the conversation. I hear her scoff as the sound of her heels echo through the penthouse.

I run my hands down my face with a sigh… fuck.

***

My feet pound against the pavement as the sun starts to rise over the New York skyline. Maybe today would be a good day to bring Ana into the lab… I shake my head at the thought… she has been avoiding you…

I stop to catch my breath, resting my hands on my knees before looking up at the bluing sky.

I know she has to have aspirations outside of being a nanny… like being your wife? My eyes widen… what the fuck, where did that come from? I pinch the bridge of my nose before taking the final sprint to the penthouse… Duty and responsibility…

***

I lean against the kitchen counter, bringing my coffee to my lips. She has to come in here eventually… I hear the light tapping of feet and she quietly rounds the corner into the kitchen, her eyes widening when our eyes meet.

“Sam! I didn’t expect you to be up so early.” Her emerald eyes quickly drop to the floor.

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you. You can be a difficult woman to find, when you want to be.”

“I know what you’re going to say, but you’re wrong.” Her eyes rise to meet mine and she pushes her shoulders back with confidence.

“I am?” Where did that come from?

“Maybe I embarrassed Paolo. Maybe I spoke out of turn. But I was also honest and right.” Her eyes narrow as her pink lips turn down in a frown. “Aren’t those the values you want me to teach Mason and Mickey?”

“I’m not going to fire you, Ana.” I breathe a sigh of relief before reaching out and lightly touching her arm.

“But Sofia-“ Her mouth opens with surprise.

“Sofia doesn’t get a say in this.” My tone comes out more angry than I intended. “Yes, she was upset about what happened at the club, but I wouldn’t fire someone just to soothe her ego. Especially when everything you said to Paolo was spot on.”

“Good, ‘cause I’m not gonna stop speaking my mind.” I see determination in her eyes and it sends a wave of desire through me.

“I wouldn’t want you to. Besides, if I fired everyone who voiced their opinion, I’d be an army of one. The world needs more thinkers like you.” My gaze lingers on her lips as she shines from my praise. “Actually, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about this morning… your future. I thought maybe you could come to the office with me today. Carter can watch the boys, and I know you have ambitions outside of being a nanny. This is your chance to see a Fortune 500 company up-close and personal.”

“Dalton Enterprises is a little out of my league, don’t you think?” She turns to get a cup of coffee, looking at me out of the corner of her eye.

“Nonsense, I’ve seen your credentials. I almost handed your resume over to HR instead of hiring you personally.” Don’t sell yourself short Ana, you are as brilliant as you are beautiful.

“Really? I would’ve loved working under you… it any position.” Her eyes darken, making my cock twitch, as I imagine her bent over my desk.

“I don’t doubt it. You’re very… capable.” I turn towards the counter to hide my growing desire… calm down Dalton.

“Thank you, Sam. Or should I call you ‘Mr. Dalton’ again today?” Her pink lips turning up in a smile.

“‘Sam’ is fine. Now, do you wanna tell the boys, or should I?” Her eyes light up as she turns on her heel.

“I’ll tell them.”

***

The car ride to work is quiet and riddled with sexual tension as the memories of the last time we were alone together in the back seat come flooding back. I steal a glance at Ana, who has her thighs clenched shut and a blush creeping across her cheeks. She is remembering it too.

When Carter rolls to a stop and opens the door, I have managed to successfully control the fire building in my chest. Ana and I walk into Dalton Enterprises confidently, side by side. This just feels so natural…

“Good morning, Mr. Dalton. I made a submission to the patent folder whenever you have a moment to review.” Grant walks up to me, effectively ending my day dream.

“Excellent. Grant, have you met Ana Schyuler?” I step to the side, gesturing to Ana.

“Haven’t had the pleasure. Are you new here?”

“Oh no, I-“ Her eyes widen.

“Maybe someday, if we’re lucky. She just got her masters in chemistry, and shows a lot of promise.” I glance down at her and I see her flash me a grateful smile.

“Mr. Dalton, call for you on line one.” Stacy, my assistant, has appeared at my side.

“Be right there.” I look back at Ana with a nod.

***

When I go to rejoin Ana, I watch her face as she talks to Grant. Her features are alight as she clearly talks about something she is passionate about. God she is so beautiful…

“Spoken like a future boss.” I hear Grant say as I walk up.

“Should I be worried about my job?” I ask as Ana’s radiant smile is turned towards me.

“No, I’d keep you around to smooth the transition of power.” She says with humor.

Grant leaves to join a meeting and I fight the urge to place my hand on Ana’s lower back as I guide her to my private elevator. I step in after her, the smell of jasmine filling my senses as her eyes flick to mine. My mind races with the possibilities of being alone with her in this elevator, and right as the doors are about to close, a hand slips in to stop them.

“Sam, we need you. There’s a problem with the office in Milan.” Robin’s face is etched with concern as his eyes meet mine. I watch his concern turn to pleasure as his eyes settle on Ana. “Hey, Ana. Fancy seeing you here.”

“Hey, Robin. What’d you do now?” I stifle my laugh with Ana’s choice of words.

“I never said it was my fault.” His eyes scan her body as his tone drops.

“Strategic guess.” Her eyes are fixed on him.

I narrow my eyes at Robin who is too infatuated with Ana to notice.

“Damn, Ana, I don’t want to just abandon you here, but these meetings can go on and on…”

“I can take her off your hands and skip the meeting altogether. It’ll be lunch before you’re done anyway…” Robin’s eyes still haven’t left Ana’s body.

“I like that idea even less.” My voice gruff as I try to grab his attention.

“Can I sit in? That’s why you brought me today, right? To see you in action?” Her eyes widen as she looks up at me.

“That’s true. Alright, follow me.” The doors to the elevator open and she follows me out. We walk into the conference room, and I watch as Ana takes a seat at the table. Her eyes flick to mine and I give her a smile, that’s my girl. Robin pulls up Luca from the Milan office whose face is dropped in worry.

“Signor Dalton, c’e un grosso problema qui.”

“In inglese, per favore, Luca. Non tutti qui parlano italiano.” I respond back to him, wishing to continue this conversation in English.

“We’ve had a security breach. Several files were lifted onto a jump drive. We think it was a former employee. The suspect was last seen in Lab C.” His words make my temper rise and I quickly forget about the other people in the room as the rest of the board members begin to murmur around me.

“Our customer DNA profiles are in that database. If the data get’s out, it’ll be the most catastrophic violation of privacy in our lifetime.” My hands turn into fists at my side.

“Our stock is going to plummet.” Luca’s voice rings out over the speaker.

“Our stock? What about the millions of customers who trusted us?” Our fucking stock is the last thing on my mind you imbecile. I close my eyes and are a deep breath as I try to collect my thoughts. “Luca, how did a former employee even have access to those files?” I narrow my eyes at him and he seems to falter at my question.

“That was my fault, Mr. Dalton. I lost my temper and gave him immediate notice instead of following our usual protocol. I’m sorry-“

I put my hand up, and he stops his useless apology. “Seal off the complex and tell security to do a thorough search, building by building. Then, alert the police. Call me as soon as it’s done. Your job is on the line here, Luca.” I reach over and end the call before he can say anything else.

“Fiona, follow up with the Milan office in an hour. David, I’m going to need projections on the impact of the breach.”

“You’ve got it, boss.” Fiona pulls out her phone ad furiously starts typing. I turn my attention to Robin.

“Robin, write up a press release. You’ve always been good at getting people who should be mad at you to calm down.”

“It is one of my many talents.” He sits back in his chair with a cocky smile.

I can feel Ana’s gaze on me, but before I have a chance to settle my attention on her, my phone buzzes in my pocket.

“It’s my father. I have to take this.” I reach into my pocket and step out of the conference room making my way to my office.

“Can you get Ana and have her meet me in my office, please.” Stacy gives me a nod before I step into my office and bring my phone to my ear.

“Hey Dad.”

“What the hell is going on in Milan, Sam?”

“We had a security breach. Luca didn’t follow protocol and now we have someone loose in the complex with our customers data.” I hear my dad take a sharp intake of breath.

“Do you know who this person is?” He asks, and I can hear the anger in his tone.

“I have Fiona following up shortly. Luca is trying to clean up his mess now.”

I hear a knock on the door and the vision of Ana is standing there, all long legs and olive skin. I wave her in, my body responding to her presence like a breath of fresh air.

“I’ll update you again when there is an update, Dad… You know everything I do, promise.”

“Sam, I expect a lot more than that. Luca needs to be held accountable for his actions…”

My dad continues to drone on as I look at Ana and roll my eyes. I watch her gaze grow heated as her eyes travel up my body, lingering in all the right places, until finally her eyes rise to mine. Her gaze doesn’t break when she realizes I caught her staring, her emerald eyes dark with desire, and the fantasies of what I want to do to her in this office come rushing back.

“…Dad, I’ll call you back.” I hang up the phone before he has a chance to object. I might regret that later…

“Sorry about all the excitement. This wasn’t exactly what I had in mind when I invited you to the office.”

“No need to apologize. Besides, it’s been kind of… thrilling to see you in action.” She clenches her thighs shut. “I like the way you take charge.”

Fuck…

“Good to know…” Is all I can think of to say in that moment. Try to keep it professional… “It seems you’re quite the hit around the office already.”

“I am?”

“Everyone is so curious about you… I blame Grant.” I also blame how damn beautiful you are. “Well, that and the fact I’ve been so busy, I haven’t been able to give you a proper tour. But I booked the labs for this afternoon to make sure we have them mall to ourselves.”

“Really? That’s amazing! Thank you.” Her eyes light up, god you are so beautiful when you are happy.

“You’re very welcome. Although…” My voice trails off. How do I word this….?

“What?” She asks casually leaning back in her chair and crossing her legs.

“I’m an impatient man, Ana. I’m not sure I can wait that long to get you alone…” My eyes trail over her bare legs as I imagine them spread open before me.

“What did you have in mind?” She notices my heated gaze.

“We could have lunch together, away from the prying eyes of my employees. Honestly, after the morning I’ve had, I could really use the break from the office. What do you say?”

“Let’s go.” She stands up confidently and moves towards the door.

“Great. Let me send a quick text and we can head up there.”

***

Soon, Ana and I are walking side by side along the High Line, I have a picnic basket in my hand. I find a quiet bench and sit down. I watch her fold her body next to me, the electricity that arcs between us, making me feel alive. She grabs the picnic basket and begins ruffling through it, the corner of her lips turning up in a small smile before she looks over at me.

“Are you telling me that they managed to whip all of this up after a quick text? There must be enough food for twenty people in here!” She holds up a whole range of appetizers.

“I admit, I was hoping you would take me up on my offer, so I planned ahead a little bit… But really, all the chef did was pack what they were serving in the cafeteria into a basket instead of onto a tray to send up to my office.” I shrug my shoulders.

“You have this kind of food everyday?” She looks down at the content of the basket.

“One of the perks of the job.” And the perks of being the boss.

“Mmmm, my compliments to the chef.” She says after taking a bite, her eyes fluttering closed with pleasure.

“So, first impressions. What do you think of Dalton Enterprises?” I pop an olive in my mouth and watch her carefully.

“Seems like a great place to work, especially if you get to eat like this all the time. Everyone’s so friendly and excited about their jobs here. I could see myself working here in the future… assuming things aren’t too complicated between us.” Her eyes grow distant as she shifts her attention to the people walking by.

My mood immediately turns serious as I reach over and place my hand on top of hers.

“I think you’d be a great fit. And the last thing I want to be is a ‘complication’ for your career. Regardless of what happens between us.”

“I know you’re not the kind of man to hold that sort of thing against me… but still, it’s nice to hear you say it.” Her emerald eyes swing to mine as she gives me a small smile.

I turn my attention to the view, enjoying this rare moment of peace between the two of us. I think back on the meeting with Luca and wince as I realize she saw that side of me.

“I hope it didn’t bother you too much to see me get tense in the Milan meeting.”

“Not at all. This company is your baby, and sometimes that requires tough love.” She pauses, and takes a sharp intake of breath, her face turning to resolve. “In fact, it made me want you to discipline me someday.”

My gaze cuts back to hers, did she really just say that? God, I want to bend you over and spank you right now for saying that to me out here…

“Ana… you can’t just say that to me. Not when we’re in public. Not when I can’t do exactly what we both want, right here, right now.”

“I’m not stopping you.” She leans towards me, her eyes flashing.

“No, but the threat of a public indecency charge is.” I smile at her challenge.

“Wheres the fun in that? Maybe I should break a few rules until you tie me up and teach me a lesson.” She gives me a knowing smile and I picture her round ass bare and pink before me, begging for more.

“I have thought about creative ways to punish you…” I admit, my voice husky.

“Like what?” She whispers.

“Drive you to the edge and not let you fall over. Even when you’re begging for it.” I lower my voice as my body leans towards hers.

Her eyes darken as she moans my name, a blush creeping across her neck and up her cheeks as I watch her body shudder.

A dog barks in the distance, bringing me out of my fantasy, I sit up and clear my throat.

“Dessert?” I ask her, swallowing down my desire.

“Dessert? Yeah, sure.” She blushes again.

I grab a strawberry, dipping it into the soft chocolate and offering it to her. She looks between he strawberry and my face before taking it carefully from my fingers. I watch as she traces the curve of her lower lip tantalizingly slow, her eyes never leaving mine. Her tongue darts out and licks the chocolate away. I shift to try and hide the growing hardness in my pants.

“Mmmm, that’s so tasty.” She moans, her eyes fluttering closed. “Sam, I need more…”

“Ana…” Fucking hell woman.

I watch her grab a strawberry and dip it into the chocolate, bringing it up to her lips and sucking lightly on the tip. A wave of desire makes my cock twitch as I imagine her lips wrapped around me.

“Are you trying to kill me? Because its working…”

“I can see that.” She gives me a sly smile, her eyes drifting down to the obviously bulge in my pants.

I swallow, trying to regain control as my mind wanders to the fucked up situation we are in, and the reality hits me hard.

“Ana… I’m sorry you’re caught in the middle of all this.”

“All what?” She asks, her face passive.

“My life. My engagement. My… desire. It’s not fair for me to put you through this… not when I can’t give you everything you deserve.” I reach out and gently place my hand on her cheek, running my thumb across her full, pink bottom lip. “But I can’t seem to stay away.” Because I don’t want to stay away.

“What if you are what I deserve?” She asks me, her eyes searching mine.

I can’t help but feel like you deserve so much better than me… I watch her lean her body closer to mine, I can tell she wants me to kiss her…

“You have no idea how much I wish I’d met you first.” I whisper as I look between her emerald eyes which are fixed on mine. My thumb caresses her soft olive skin.

“Sam, it doesn’t matter. We’ll figure it out. I’m not going anywhere. Not after finding you.” Her words strike me hard as I realize what she is saying.

“Really? You’ll wait?”

She slowly nods her head and leans into my palm.

“Forever and ever… although I’d really rather we work something out sooner than that.”

God, she is giving me way more than I deserve… you stupid ass hole, what are you doing?

“Me too.” I say with a smile. “I will find us a clean way out of this mess. I promise.” I don’t even know if that is a promise I can keep, but I am going to try my fucking hardest. “For now, though, let’s just enjoy each other’s company? For one childfree day?”

“Deal.”

I drop my hand from her cheek as we continue to enjoy each others company, the lunch hour passing way too quickly.

***

After lunch I lead Ana to my favorite part of Dalton Enterprises: the labs. I feel like a teenager as we descend down the elevator and through the key card locked doors. I ensured Stacy understood that we were not to be interrupted, and ignored the weird expression that crossed her features at my request.

I swipe my keycard in front of the final door, pushing the door open to the robotics lab. I take a deep breath and breathe in the smell of metal and feel the charge of electricity in the air.

“This is where the magic happens. The prototypes, the formulas, the fistfights over whose name goes first on the patent…” I turn my attention to Ana. Her eyes have widened as she looks around in awe.

“I can picture it now.”

“This is my favorite part of our new line. Granted, it’s got some kinks to work out.” I lead her to a table with our latest project, slipping the gloves onto my hands which make the tiny robotic arms on the table match my every movement.

“Whoa. I can’t decide if you’re a mad scientist… or if the tiny robot is too cute for words.” She says with amazement.

“Are those the only options?” I give her a wry smile.

“Cute or crazy? More often than you’d think.” Her gaze lingers for a moment before she turns her attention back to the miniature robot.

“I’ve never seen you so passionate.” Her voice comes out low and my eyes snap to hers.

“Oh, I’m not sure about that. You’ve seen me plenty passionate.”

“I meant about your job.” She rolls her eyes with a grin, and a blush spreads across her cheeks.

“I do love a good experiment. And as messy as it can be, I’m glad that’s a trait I passed down to the boys.” I stifle a laugh.

“So, if you’re in one for a promotion to CEO… will you have to leave all this? The lab?” Her eyes scan the lab and my stomach sinks.

I look down at my hands, slowly peeling the gloves off.

“Unfortunately, yes… I’m not looking forward to that part, but I’ve been waiting to lead Dalton Enterprises for a long time. It’s my namesake. Even if it’s not easy to let go of what I love… sometimes you have to.” The double meaning in my words is not lost on me… but I hope she doesn’t notice.

I watch as Ana leans back on the counter and watches me carefully. The words duty and responsibility ring in my ears like a broken vinyl, the ache in my chest growing as I scan the curves of her body.

“Why is your dad hanging on to the title of CEO, anyway? He’s not even here today.”

“He’s easing his way into retirement, but it’s hard for him to let go… especially given my so-called ‘wild youth’ before the boys. And then as a widower, I think he saw me as a liability. Too fragile. Adrift.” My mind sinks back into the memories of the countless arguments my father and I have been in. “It’s taken so long to finally earn his trust, prove to him that I’m a reliable man.” Which is why you need to control yourself…

I watch Ana reach out to console me, but I hand her the gloves first. Duty and responsibility… self-control… you have worked so hard to get where you are… don’t fuck it all up now.

“Anyway, why don’t you try it now?” I give her a small smile and I watch her lips turn down in disappointment which she quickly masks as she pulls the gloves onto her slender hands. She makes slight movements with her hands, which the robots effectively match.

“Okay, this is really cool.” Her eyes dance with excitement as she blows me a kiss. You are making this really difficult… but the light in her eyes is contagious. You are so radiant when you are happy…

“Clever.” My eyes meet hers with a smile before the moment is broken by the sound of the robot flipping over onto the table.

“Crap! Did I break it?” Her eyes widen slightly in alarm.

“We built it to be more resilient than that. Here, try it like this. You have to go slowly. Gently.” I position myself behind her, and the smell of Ana, jasmine and sunshine, suddenly fills my senses and clouds my judgement. I run my hands down her slender arms, hearing her breath hitch at the heat and contact. My hands come to rest on top of hers and her body involuntarily leans back into mine. “Go too fast, and the whole system shorts out.” I whisper, my lips brushing the shell of her ear.

She turns slowly in my arms, and I am acutely aware of how close we are, our breathes mixing in the silent, still air. My eyes scan the delicate features of her face, ending at the curves of her plump, pink lips. A forbidden place that draws me in like a moth to the flame. I am going to hell…

“Sam…” her lips open and she whispers a desperate plea. She leans toward me until our lips are only centimeters apart. My head starts to swim in the intoxicating smell of her, remembering the sweet taste of her lips, and the delicious blush that covers her body when we touch.

“What if someone walks in?” Her emerald eyes flick between my eyes and my lips.

“No one’s going to. I booked the lab for us. No one will dare interrupt.” My voice is husky as it betrays my desire. My self control is teetering on the brink. I see the moment that her resolve finally crumbles and in that moment I reach up and cup her cheek, as our lips meet in a desperate kiss.

“I tried so hard to hold back… but it feels so good to let go.” She leans back for a moment, her eyes scanning my face.

“I know exactly what you mean…” I pull her lips back to mine in a heated kiss that deepens as my self control effectively disappears. All I can think about is how sweet her lips taste, how intoxicating she smells, and how badly I want to feel every inch of her skin.

My fingertips graze down her curves, as she leans into my touch, a soft moan escaping her lips. She closes her lips around my tongue and sucks hard, sending a shooting wave down to my cock as I groan into her mouth. I feel her lips turn up in a smile and I moan her name.

“You’ve been thinking about this all day, haven’t you?” She pulls away, her lips red and swollen from our kisses and that blush covering her cheeks.

“God, yes…” I admit as I run my hands down the curves of her body, unbuttoning her silk blouse and pushing it off of her shoulders exposing her perfectly round breasts in her lace bra. My fingertips graze her newly exposed skin as I push her skirt down to the floor and I take a moment to appreciate her figure. God… you are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen… “I think about this, about you, all day, every day.”

I put my arms on her lower back, pulling her body to mine as my lips leave a trail of kisses down her neck, then her shoulder, tasting her skin and listening to the soft moans that leave her beautiful lips, have me blind with my desire. She moans my name and the sound of my name off of her lips is almost enough to unman me.

She pushes my jacket off of my shoulders and I watch her shaking fingers quickly unbutton my shirt, pushing it from my shoulders and exposing my chest. She tries to reach out, but I grab her body and bring her breast to my mouth. I suck on her nipple through the lace and I feel her coming apart in my arms.

“I could kiss you forever, Ana.” Because you taste so damn sweet. I drag my teeth across her breast and she gasps as her body responds so perfectly to mine.

“I’m tired of just kissing.” She grinds her hips against my growing desire causing a moan to escape my lips.

“What’s gotten into you?” I look down at her and her eyes are dark and hooded.

“I liked seeing your sexy dominant side. You were so firm and strong and hard with that Luca guy, showing him exactly what kind of boss you are… it was hot” A smile plays on her lips as she continues to grind against me.

“Remind me to let you watch whenever I discipline someone at work.” A fire is raging inside of my body as the friction continues.

“I’d rather you just discipline me instead.” She moans before our lips meet again in a frenzied kiss.

My fingertips travel around her exposed skin before they dip inside of the cup of her bra.

“What’re you doing to me, Ana?” I whisper breathlessly against her lips.

“You’re the one who - oh!- makes me…” I don’t let her finish her thought as my fingers dip lower, feeling the pooling wetness between her thighs. I feel her body start to tremble.

“Sam, are you… sure?”

I pull back and look at her eyes which are wide as she pants. I grab her hand and place it over my racing heart.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life. I’ve never wanted anyone more in my life.” In this moment I realize truer words have never been spoken. This woman has my heart, I don’t know how it happened… but in the few months that I have known her, she has completely consumed me. I realize in this moment that I have to do whatever I can to have a future with her. “Don’t you feel the same way?”

“I have never been more sure of anything too.” Her eyes search mine in her confession. “No matter the consequences. I’m all in.”

Her words send a fresh wave of desire through me as my eyes scan her every curve, memorizing every freckle on her olive skin.

“Tell me what you want, Ana. Whatever it is, it’s yours. I’m yours.”

“Sam, I want you on the table.” She grinds her hips against my desire again.

I lean back and give her a sly smile before she grabs my hand and pulls me to the other side of the lab. I watch her perfect peach of an ass walk away from me, her hips swaying from side to side.

“I always wanted to do this.” She says with a smile before she brushes all of the papers off of the table. She lifts her hips up and lays herself back as if in offering before me. I take a moment to marvel at her body, spread before me.

“Good thing none of that was important…” I smile.

“Would you care if it was?”

“With you spread out before me, moaning my name? Not even remotely.” My eyes travel down to her most intimate place as I spread her legs wide. I bring my lips to the inside of her knee, blazing a trail of hot, fiery, open-mouthed kisses up thigh. I bring my nose to the apex of her thighs, inhaling the sweet scent of her desire. So fucking sweet. I am going to take my sweet time with this delicious pussy. I can feel the moisture as I run my tongue along the lace. Her hips writhing as she moans my name. God, its so fucking good.

I reach up slowly to hook a finger into her panties when the worst sound I could possibly hear in this moment rings through the lab. That fucking buzzer.

My eyes fly to hers as she lifts her head in alarm.

“What was that?”

“Someone just used their keycard to enter the hall.”

I stand up quickly, grabbing Ana’s hips and helping her off the table, before we hurry to the opposite end of the lab where our clothes lay strewn on the floor. We dress quickly, and just in time, before I hear a closer buzzer signal that whoever is coming down here is about to join us. I look over at Ana who is making still blushing and her lips are still read. Fuck. I run my fingers through my hair.

Thats when Robin walks into the room and my anger flares.

“He should just be in here.” He is holding a phone to his ear.

“Robin! What a pleasant surprise!” Ana exclaims and I fight the urge to pinch my nose.

My eyes are fixed on Robin as he looks between the both of us and gives me a knowing look. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Sofia, Im gonna have to call you back.” He narrows his eyes at me before pulling the phone from his ear and hanging up the call.

This isn’t good.

***

A/N- There are a few choices in here I really struggled to make with my MC, I played it several ways and ended up with this, before Ana really knew what she was getting herself into. I had to rethink who she was at this point in her life with Sam, but please forgive me if you don’t like the choices that I/She made. Muah!

#choices the stories you play #the nanny affair #Sam Dalton #n*sfw #choices fanfiction #choicestna #choices sam dalton #choices

19 notes · View notes

baodurs · 4 years ago

Text

i filled out this super cool button character profile by @extraordinarymage for sabrina! thank you for making this, it was a lot of fun to fill out <3 the bulk of it is under a cut and oh boy is it long !!!

Short, Quick Reference

Name: Sabrina Wiseman

Pronouns: She/her

Sexuality: Bisexual

Love Interest: Kent

Main personality trait: Confidence

Secondary personality trait: Morbidity

Relationship with Nick: Full of love, haunted by unaddressed guilt and frustration. But mostly full of love.

Nickname for Nick: Saint Nick (used sparingly)

Resentful or accepting?: Slightly resentful

Main strategy (interpersonal, insightful, innovative?): Insightful

Ethical or expedient?: Expedient

GENERAL

Name: Sabrina Larkspur Wiseman

Nickname(s): Sab, used by anyone; Sabby, only Nick and Sally; and, of course, Button for Nick.

Birthday: I think I made her an October Libra for the purpose of a template I did months ago, but I’m not sure! No concrete birthday yet, I’m always very slow to nail down details like this.

Age: 20

Pronouns: She/her

Sexuality: Bisexual

Hair color + style: Blonde. A little past shoulder length, sometimes wavy. Usually a middle part. For Aeon, tied back in a bun.

Eye color: Blue, entirely because of the section of Frank O’Hara’s “Meditations in an Emergency” that goes, “My eyes are vague blue, like the sky...”

Height: 5′5

Piercings: Multiple in each ear, but a couple have started to close.

Tattoos: None yet! Sab likes the idea of a tattoo but is worried about finding the perfect design, whether she’d end up hating it, that the pain might be greater than she expects and she’ll look like a baby in front of her tattoo artist. I’d like to think she eventually consults Sally and/or Glitch to come up with an idea that she falls in love with, but I haven’t come up with what that would be!

Clothing style: Mostly solid colors, not a lot of patterns. Nothing super bright, but a fairly varied mix of pastels, neutrals, dark colors, black. Partial to denim skirts and sweater tops. Ankle boots. Likes a good turtleneck. She’s bolder when it comes to formal wear, and especially loves suits. Big fan of silk and satin.

Since she has a pretty accurate face claim, I’ll link some gifsets I’ve rb’d for appearance ref if you are so inclined.

STATS

I’m always adjusting minor things and swapping scenes around, but these are from my most recent Sab run! Most scores hover somewhere around these values.

Personality:

Confidence: 53%

Humor: 5%

Morbidity: 22%

Resentful: 57% | Accepting: 43%

Strategy:

Interpersonal: 12%

Insightful: 50%

Innovative: 10%

Ethical: 43% | Expedient: 57%

KEY DECISIONS:

What is Nick’s nickname and why?: Saint Nick, used very rarely. It’s a joking reference to the time she thought Santa was an evil Ment out to ruin Christmas, and a point about Nick overdoing it with the cheer. “Saint Nick” is usually code for “I know you mean well, but please mind your own business.” Otherwise, she just calls him Nick.

What is their favorite type of cookie (and its name and why?): Salted caramel chocolate chip! No special name.

What was their initial reaction to Sally hugging them, as kids?: She just froze. That could just be me projecting adult Sabrina onto her childhood self; I don’t imagine that she was as uncomfortable around strangers or quite as cautious back then. But that’s what I’ll stick with.

How did they ace the ASE test?: The in-game option she takes is “My entire life has revolved around strategic avoidance,” but the one about being just plain smart also sounds like her. If Sab has the chance to thoroughly (over)prepare for something, she will do it. Her mind blindness also has her constantly (over)analyzing situations. So, hard work and relentless anxiety!

Did they manage to win their first assignment? How?: Yes, by having Sally block the door. I’ve headcanoned some slight differences in how it plays out, which I wrote about in-depth here. To summarize, Sab thinks of blocking the door as a desperate last resort, not a clever loophole, and she pushes back against Rosy’s praise because she wishes she could have done it the “real” way. Rosy goes from being impressed to being annoyed that she’s willfully missing the point.

What was the primary emotion Button felt during the Aeon bombing (love, gratitude, etc?): Guilt. She feels very guilty about how much Nick has given up for her in general, but I think that in the moment, it’s on a smaller scale. The fact that Nick was on the phone with her when it happened, coming to her rescue like always, becomes emblematic of their whole relationship for her, and she really fixates on that.

Who drove them home from the hospital from and why?: Glitch. Sab responds to her initial text with “Are you sure?”, and is relieved when Glitch takes that as “Yes, please.” She doesn’t relish the idea of being around someone more connected to her family or Nick at that point.

How do they feel about Nick riding around in their mind?: Worried, at first. Just because it’s so unknown and absolutely insane. After seeing Doctor Amari, she’s excited! Sab is thrilled to be a Pollard Five and intends to take full advantage of it. I am not looking forward to seeing how she reacts when that’s taken away from her.

Why did Button agree to do the undercover mission?: To prove she still deserves to be an MIV. Sabrina feels stupid and reckless for putting herself, Nick, and Aeon in this position, but she knows she’s smart, and she hasn’t worked this hard for nothing. She wants to prove what she could do with a normal Pollard Score and make herself too valuable to give up even when she’s back to Zero.

Told Glitch about your mind blindness?: Depends on the playthrough. I’m constantly going back and forth on whether Sab meets Glitch for coffee or wanders the city with Nick in her second chapter 5 slot (after trying to track down Kent). If she does meet Glitch, though, she absolutely tells her; with how touchy Sab is about privacy, she couldn’t stomach not warning Glitch that Nick could hear everything they said.

Figured out K’s secret?: Nope. She finds enough of the clues to be given the “I knew it!” option in-game, but she didn’t actually put it together. Sab is too angry and embarrassed by learning that Kent is an AMO to find any reason to interrogate it. “The random guy I met before school just happens to be a jerk” is a perfectly sound explanation to her.

Found Noh’s clues?: Not at the metro station. Sometimes she sees the Vengeance brooms in chapter 5 (again, depending on the playthrough), but that’s it.

ROMANTIC RELATIONSHIP:

Love Interest: Kent

Why them?: Sab feels an immediate kinship with Kent after learning about the NPO program. It’s kind of funny how quickly he moves from the least sympathetic position in her eyes (Ment who got past me and read my mind without my knowledge) to the most sympathetic (non-powered child of a prominent family aiming a league above where he “belongs”). A lot of new respect for his competence. Her fate is sealed when she realizes that his kindness at the hospital wasn’t him trying to make up for some wrongdoing, but just him being very sweet. (She had scoffed over “You needed help.” But now she’s like, “Oh. He meant that?! Fuck.”)

As they spend more time together, Sab realizes how weirdly similar they are in other ways, too. And she starts to feel safe/secure around him in a way that she’s extremely not used to. Growing up surrounded by Ments, Sab has a lot of issues about being too much, too difficult, needing to “be worthy” of love. So someone like Kent who is not a Ment, who has no “obligation” to care about her, and whose judgement she trusts implicitly? Being around him and being loved by him mean a lot, and I think will go a long way towards helping her reflect on her other relationships!

What are their first impressions of each other?: Okay, there are like 3 first impressions with Kent. First: he’s tall and handsome and secretly adorable, and they have similar career goals, so she’s drafting a five-month plan to woo him and get his number. Second: he’s a lying, self-obsessed loser who owes her many explanations. Third: oh no, the first impression was true! And he’s been continually, selflessly kind to her in spite of her overt hostility. Scratch the five-month plan, because the crush was only fun when it was entirely superficial; now she really, really likes him and that just sucks.

We know that Button makes a good impression on K by stopping for their dogs, but apart from that... I mean, the “we confused each other” from chapter 7 is very apt. Sab has lots of shifting personas, and Kent sees pretty much every one within 24 hours. The prevailing impression before everything gets cleared up is probably just that she cares a lot? About everything? Her stopping for the dogs, how seriously she takes the first assignment, the way she seems so deeply affected by something he said or did that morning. It’s a rare side of her to meet first because she usually pretends to be above everything.

What feature does your Button find most attractive in their RO (ex. appearance, personality, etc.)?: Probably his composure. And his... steadfastness? The way he seems unruffled by anything, his soothing presence. She really admires that about him and finds the calm contagious.

What do they do to spend time together?: Going on drives together! Kent driving while Sab plays songs she thinks he’ll like, talking or not talking. Cuddling on the couch while reading their own separate books. Museum dates. Walking the dogs together.

Do they argue? How do they handle arguments and disagreements? How do they make up?: I imagine that the first month or so of their relationship would be difficult, just because they’re both bad at expressing themselves and not used to relying on other people. Kent kind of negates a lot of Sab’s impulses to get defensive or hostile, so instead of arguments, I think there are more likely to be awkward periods where she’s just stewing in something without addressing it. Most of their fights would be, like, one of them becoming really distant for a concerning number of days until the other tries to awkwardly check in on them.

What does their future look like?: Uhh some random lore: I think eventually they do get married, despite neither of them caring that much about it. Sabrina would be excited to have something to plan, and she knows it would make the people around her happy. They have a long engagement; there’s never really an “official” proposal, just an acknowledgement that yeah, they’ll get married one day, and then eventually they get rings. The engagement is almost Sab’s favorite part, honestly. She likes planning and showing off her ring and calling Kent her fiancé, a lot of fanfare on her part for a wedding that ends up being very modest and chill.

OTHER RELATIONSHIPS (Feel free to go in depth!)

Relationship with Nick: When I first started developing Sab, I thought that with as difficult/prickly as she can be, her relationship with Nick would be worse than it is. Never bad, but certainly strained, with more jealousy/resentment on her side. However, she rejected this. She is resentful, but never towards Nick—she internalizes the negative parts of their relationship so they manifest as guilt instead. And that’s the problem, not resentment. Sab thinks he’s overprotective, but that doesn’t make her angry; it just makes her sad. She wishes things were different and he didn’t feel so responsible for her, but she also doesn’t know how she could manage without him taking on so many of her burdens. So, guilt! So much love, but always looming guilt.

Having Nick in her head has helped. It’s added a new kind of guilt (“I’m a horrible person for being so giddy that people can’t hear my thoughts even though that requires my brother to be in a coma”), but getting inside Nick’s head for once and really feeling his love for her changes things. Makes her feel way more secure, I guess? It’s easier to see her brother as human person, a friend who loves her, rather than a perfect selfless paragon who sacrificed everything to raise her, which is an important shift.

There are also Things happening with self-presentation in the fact that they’re both models, and flirts, and pretend to be shallow. And the ways that they’ve responded to vastly different expectations. And selflessness versus selfishness. But I have no idea how to talk about that yet.

Relationship with Father: Strained and distant. Sabrina doesn’t necessarily blame him for leaving, but she hates how he’s handled it. She’s incredibly frustrated that John insists on keeping them in this miserable limbo of uncomfortable visits, even though moving away was (to her) a tacit acknowledgement that she and her parents are better off without each other. He’s trying to force a relationship that Sab thinks is ultimately harmful for everyone involved. For Nick’s sake, she’s willing to grin and bear the visits, but it never works because John can obviously tell it’s an act. He pushes her, she gets defensive, and so on to infinity.

Relationship with Mother: Like with John, Sab doesn’t resent Hope for the incident itself, or for leaving afterward. It was terrifying, and the idea of being around Hope makes her panic—but she thinks of that as just another irrational anxiety symptom, and she’s trying to work through it. What she does resent Hope for is letting it get to that point at all. Sab is incredibly bitter that Hope will suffer silently to the point of almost killing her (during the incident) and potentially herself (with the BRS), while Sab has no choice but to be completely open. Especially because they’re so similar in that way—she’s almost jealous. “Oh, so your silence is allowed to almost kill me and it’s ‘nobody’s fault’ but I can’t pretend to enjoy a single lunch with Dad without him calling me out for lying?”

And even though she doesn’t hold the incident itself against her, Sab is very hung up on “Why are you never quiet? Why are you always there?” She knows, on some level, that this was not a Personal Judgement against her. But because Hope keeps so much quiet, this is the only honest expression of her mother’s feelings that she can remember! It would take a lot for Sab to believe that Hope was really, genuinely interested in reconnecting with her, rather than just pretending to love her "enough” this time because to do otherwise would reflect poorly on Hope as a mother.

Relationship with Sally: Besties <3 Sally is the only member of the Wiseman inner circle that Sab doesn’t have complicated feelings about. They both have hidden morbid streaks that they bring out in each other, and can laugh about. They both have competitive streaks that work well together because they’re always on the same team. And their wants/needs from the relationship complement each other well, I think. Sally has always felt valued because she’s useful and not because she’s loved, while Sab has always felt smothered by love/care without feeling like she genuinely adds value to other people’s lives. So it means a lot to both of them that they’re able to help each other practically, while also genuinely loving and supporting each other outside of that.

Relationship with Gray: Full of trust and genuine care, but predicated on distance. Sab loves him a lot for being so careful not to cross any boundaries, physical or emotional, with her. She’s grateful that he’s there for Nick in a way that she doesn’t feel she can be. But "I like Gray because he doesn’t push me and is good to Nick” means that any hand he extend makes her defensive, because she’ll either view him as an emissary of Nick or start to panic because their normal routine is being disrupted (she doesn’t tell him about Hope in ch 3, for example).

They get along very well in a friend-of-a-friend sort of way, and bond over being cautious counterparts to Nick. Also, Sab never had a crush on Gray, but she is not immune to tall superhero and thinks it’s fun to fake flirt with him. (You know Isabela’s “You have pretty eyes” routine from DA2? Sab does that to Gray when conversations steer towards things she’d rather not talk about.)

Relationship with Glitch: I’m really excited about these two! They click from the start, and Sabrina feels immediately comfortable around Glitch, which makes her feel distinctly uncomfortable whenever she catches herself. Externally, they have pretty different personalities, but they’re both perceptive and... socially manipulative? aware of their self-presentation?... in ways that they both pick up on right away. So it’s a lot of conversational maneuvering and trying to figure out what the other’s game is, while also genuinely enjoying each other’s company.

Relationship with Kent/Kenna: I could go truly insane here. See the romance section above instead.

Relationship with Kim: Sab wants him to like her sooooo bad. He’s one of the only people to ever really get through to her, re: my headcanon conversation after the first assignment. Authority figures tend to treat her as special, whether that’s negatively because of her mind blindness or positively because she’s such an overachiever. She had no idea how to respond to that not being the case (and didn’t handle it well at first), but chapter 6 solidifies her respect for him.

It also turns Rosy’s opinion of Sab around; he was impressed by her in class but left his office thinking she was self-absorbed and naive. But the bombing is a reality check, and her response is very measured and practical in a way that surprises him.

Relationship with Lev: She doesn’t mind the comparisons to Nick or the “maybe one day they’ll fix you” comments as much as you might think. They aren’t her favorite, but she prefers that sort of thing to the inspirational platitudes belied by coddling that she got from her family growing up. Sab has fond memories of Lev and is grateful that he’s always been kind to her, but doesn’t have any particular feelings apart from that.

Relationship with Clarence: Holds a grudge against him for causing a scene, making her late, and generally being a jerk. But she can’t fault him for being right, after what happened! Mostly she just wants to avoid him, but she’ll be thrilled to lord her success over him if/when she proves herself.

Relationship with Dean Branham: Like Rosy, another authority figure that Sab desperately wants to impress. But without the personal investment she has in Rosy’s validation, more “Oh, this person is in charge, so I should make her like me!” Despite Nick’s and Rosy’s reservations, Sabrina doesn’t really have a problem with being “strongarmed” or manipulated into cooperating; for now, she figures Branham was just doing her job and respects her tactics.

Relationship/attitude towards Ments in general: Mostly just uncomfortable and wary around them. Sab doesn’t want her mind read, and she figures that no Ment wants to be forced to read it either. So she has a pretty strict “no Ments” rule for close personal relationships (excluding Nick, Sally, and Gray, of course. But only Nick really counts because he’s the only one who can hear her thoughts whenever she’s nearby). Not out of hatred or resentment, just because she knows it will be easier for everyone in the long run.

Do they have any other important relationships, past or present? (Relatives, friends, etc.?): Not many, but yes! Sab dated around a lot in the 2 years before Aeon (more like year and a half, because she completely shut it down once she was more focused on preparing for the MIV program), but there are 2 relationships that were formative/important for her. A high school sweetheart, and someone Sab met through modeling. She doesn’t keep up with her high school ex, but the model is her best friend outside of Sally and Nick, and they still keep in touch! I’m still developing them/the relationships, and I’ll probably post more about them someday. They’re fun!

PERSONAL BIO

Describe their personality: Confusing and contradictory. She has two main modes that confuse people who meet both (e.g., Kent). She’s either cold, stuck-up, and sometimes hostile, OR she’s charming, frivolous, and sometimes flirty. Mode 1 is tense but stoic and inexpressive; mode 2 is seemingly relaxed but very posed and insincere. Mode 1 is for when she feels uncertain or has no agenda apart from “get to point B”; mode 2 is for when she’s more comfortable or trying to manipulate someone. Her actual personality is a bit closer to the second, but she doesn’t pretend not take things seriously or hide when she’s annoyed.

Strengths: Analytical, methodical, detail-oriented. Very driven and hardworking. May not always act like it, but does have social skills/charisma; a great liar, if you can’t read her mind. Unfailingly loyal and loving to her favorite people, so so so warm and affectionate and supportive if she really loves you. Very perceptive.

Weaknesses: Way too proud. Can be petty and vindictive. Self-absorbed (she doesn’t mean anything by it, but it’s hard for her to see past herself sometimes). Stubborn, hates being wrong. And... emotional isn’t the word, but strong negative emotions can really cloud her judgement. It ties into her being proud, petty, and stubborn; if she’s really upset about something, she can cling to that emotion instead of re-evaluating it or moving forward.

Phobias: From this ask about the phobias that are planned to show up in-game, there are a few that I could see fitting Sab, but I want to wait to see how they’re implemented before I fully commit. Which is very metagame-y, I know (and I am very metagame-y about IF), but “fear of X” is so broad that it really does depend on when/how it manifests in the text.

That being said, agoraphobia is almost a lock; crowds do make Sab very anxious if she can’t keep track of everyone within a certain distance, and if she can’t leave when she starts feeling antsy. Claustrophobia is a maybe. The choice that triggers it (in chapter 4, about hating MRI machines) suits Sab, but I’m not sure if she hates MRI machines because she hates tight spaces, or if it’s more related to her general anxiety about hospitals, medical tests, etc. Which she definitely has!

What activities/club did they do in school?: She avoided anything group-oriented as far as possible. She took piano (maybe violin?) lessons and did recitals, but wasn’t in orchestra. The one exception was maybe National Honor Society or some equivalent, which she would have joined for her resume’s sake. And I think she would have tutored!

Where do they escape to when they need space?: A little used library corner, where she can people watch without being seen/heard.

How do they feel about/cope with their mind blindness?: Sab hates it but tries not to dwell on it. She knows that it’s no one’s fault, and she mainly just tries to... minimize it? Drown out her thoughts, limit her contact with Ments. And, least healthily, very rigidly managing herself. Because there’s so much of her that exists outside of herself, without her control, she tries to either filter or completely suppress everything else. Part of why she got into modeling, she can perform and be perfect and have total control over the final product of her body in the photographs for whatever campaign. Some Day This Will Be Better. But definitely not where she is in current canon.

How has your Button changed since the Incident with Hope?: Developed many new anxieties and disorders and syndromes :) She also became way more self-conscious, as in literally conscious of and way more tightly monitoring herself, what she’s thinking, what she’s expressing, how she’s sitting, etc. Less emotive face, more rigid posture.

If they weren’t an Aeon student, what would they be doing?: Sab would have beaten herself up forever if she “proved everyone right” by avoiding Unity/Ments entirely, so she’d want to stay in the family business somehow. She probably would have ended up doing scientific research on mental agility. Maybe even working for Mirrortech or some other biotech company, which I imagine would have been an interesting conversation to have with the family.

RANDOM FACTS:

Zodiac sign: Like I said, I assigned her Libra months ago for the sake of a template. But I don’t know enough about astrology to commit. Libra or Leo, probably.

Hobbies: Music, reading poetry, “cooking” (i.e., sitting on the counter and not helping while Nick makes dinner)

Likes: Watching other people (Nick) play video games, dressing up, taking long showers/baths, dark chocolate with caramel, back hugs

Dislikes: Being patronized, hot weather, going to the doctor, driving, doing anything she is not good at

Type of bedsheets: Bamboo.

Drink of choice: Cucumber mint lemonade! For hot drinks, some kind of caramel coffee. For alcohol, she refuses to get drunk because she’s terrified of having even less control of her mental broadcast, but at home/around people she trusts she’ll have a glass or two of wine. Doesn’t know enough to be picky, but doesn’t like it too sweet.

Favorite food: Probably some pasta dish Nick makes with asparagus and tomatoes and a lot of garlic.

Favorite color: Like a light turquoise!

Favorite music: Music to her was another mind-shielding tactic before anything else, so she tends to like upbeat-ish electronic/pop stuff. Catchy and repetitive, and/or with lots of personality to drown out her own thoughts. On the other end of the spectrum, she does have a soft spot for crackly, lo-fi, old or old-sounding slow songs—something about fuzzy recordings simulating a weak telepathic signal.

Favorite season: Hmm, spring and autumn are both good. She likes either side of winter.

Anything else you’d like to share: My heart and a long, fulfilling marriage, with anyone who reads all this 💍

#wow this is so long. insanity luv lit ral insanity #this was super helpful for articulating certain things about sab's character so it's already done its job #pls do not feel pressured to read Thousands of words about sabrina my beloved. but if you read all or even some of this <333 a kiss for you #why am i embarrassed to overshare about my own ocs on my own blog. i live here #oc: sabrina wiseman #also this was very much a stream of consciousness deal but i tried to go back and make it comprehensible. good luck all ye who enter here

19 notes · View notes

flooffybits · 5 years ago

Text

The Time She Professed Her Love

Idol: Park Chaeyoung (Blackpink)

Author’s note: here we go. Don’t forget to tell me what you all think, that would really help

Being an idol, Chaeyoung knew that there were things she couldn’t say out loud. Her privacy was the most she’s valued ever since she debuted in Blackpink. As a trainee, she had to keep a lot of things to herself, remembering that the people around her were no longer her friends, but strangers.

Thankfully, though, she was able to befriend some of the other trainees, and when she was introduced to Jennie, she was more than relieved to find out that she wasn’t the only foreigner there. And when Lisa came along, they welcomed her with open arms and taught her better with speaking the language when they found out that she was struggling with it.

Finding out that they would debut was another story. YG had promised that nine girls would be debuting under the name of Pink Punk, but was eventually pushed back for a few more years, forcing most of the girls to give up due to personal matters, or simply because they had lost hope with waiting.

When she, Jennie, Lisa, and Jisoo were told that they would be debuting, they weren’t sure if it was another empty promise until their pictures and videos were finally being posted online and their names spread like wildfire.

Chaeyoung couldn’t believe that it was actually happening that she had to take a minute to absorb everything. Lisa was full of energy when they began to practice their debut song, Jennie was focused, determined to make this debut as successful as possible, while Jisoo did the same and looked after the three at the same time.

And while Chaeyoung was very open to her members, she often opened herself to you much more than anyone she's ever met.

You've been her friend and supporter ever since her father decided to let her audition for YG. And when you were able, you planned on flying out to see her, and maybe even move to South Korea when you're finally out of college, just so you could see your friend again.

After their debut stage, Chaeyoung was already on the phone, tears in her eyes as your face popped up with a large grin plastered on it. Pride was swelling in your chest when you showered her with praises. You were unbelievably happy for her and you made sure to show her that she did extremely well that it made her cry even more because you aren't there for her to hug.

“Hey, you did great. Stop crying!” You had teased, not wanting to reveal the fact that you were about to cry as well, just by looking at her and she covered her mouth with her hand, a whine passing her lips as she tried to stop her tears. “I can’t help it. I’ve been thinking about this moment for years, but now that it’s happening, you aren’t here.” She reasoned and you felt a pang in your chest.

A stubborn tear managed to slip from your eyes but you quickly wiped it away while showing her a soft smile. “I’m sorry, Chae. I wish I could be there, right now. I swear, but things are a little tight.” You explained and she shook her head, not wanting to make you feel guilty for your absence. “No, it’s okay. I understand.” She wiped her tears away with her sleeves and she just looked adorable, overall.

“Rosie! Come on, we gotta go!” One of her members called out and she looked at you, an apology already at the tip of her tongue, but you shake your head. “Go have fun. It’ll be okay.”

After a few more minutes, she finally allows herself to say goodbye and hang up despite not wanting to, but she ended it with a smile, feeling much lighter after that talk.

It was Blackpink’s first variety show on Weekly Idol, and Chaeyoung was slowly adjusting to the life of an idol, people calling her name wherever she went and having guards flocking around her just so no one could potentially hurt her or any of the girls.

The rules were strict, but she understood why they were placed for them. But since she had only just began her journey, going home wasn’t exactly an option at the moment.

“Rosé, you played the guitar, right?” The mc asked her and she nodded her head. “I used to play it a lot, back home and I would just jam out with my best friend.” She admitted and the girls nodded, knowing the stories the girl has told them.

The man smiled before he gestured for a guitar from the staff. “How about you play something for us and just go down memory lane?” The other mc suggested as she took the instrument and smiled, letting her fingers run over the smooth surface before she placed her fingers against the strings of the guitar.

She had thought back on the times you spent in each other’s houses and she would play a random song before you’re jumping in to start singing with her. Though you were usually shy to do so, with her, you weren’t as scared and she always felt so flattered that you would let her see a different side of you every time.

So, with you in mind, she started singing the first song that popped into her head, which was Not for Long.

Her feelings have always been there, but with everything that happened in her life, she had to keep those feelings under lock and key. And even if she were to tell you, she was an idol now and dating another girl was something she couldn’t do unless she wanted her career to plummet before it even starts. Add that she was also under a dating ban just so she could focus on her group.

She remembers the times you came to her after the disappointment of a boyfriend you had and eventually broke up with him. She would console you, telling you that you could always find someone better, and thinking to herself that she could be better.

Chaeyoung was hopelessly in love and it was so hard for her that she couldn’t just come out and tell you. She’s compared herself to the people you’ve been with, and she knows that she’s better; more romantic and more deserving.

Because no one could take care of you and your heart like she could.

But she’s determined, that one day she would get you, or at least try. Because if you didn’t like her the way she did, then she would be okay. At least she was finally honest with you.

When the song ends, she flashes a sweet smile, hoping that maybe you could see her as she sings the song for you, silently telling everyone the secret in her heart without directly telling them, but Jennie smiles at her, knowing full well what she did, and smiled.

Wrapping up the show, the girls bid the hosts and staffs goodbye and then head back to the dorm.

“That was really nice, Rosie.” Jennie tells her and the younger girl blushed as she covered her face. “I hope she likes it.” She murmured, and the rapper patted her arm while sporting her usual gummy smile. “I’m sure she’ll love it.”

And Chaeyoung wishes that somewhere out there, wherever you are, that her heart has reached you, even when you were miles and miles apart.

#girl group #girl group scenarios #girl group imagines #blackpink #blackpink scenarios #blackpink imagines #blackpink rose #rosé park #rosé #park chaeyoung #bp rosé #rosé scenarios #rosé imagines

110 notes · View notes

captainsimagines · 4 years ago

Text

Titanic || H.S

Part Two || “You.”

“And tell us about that Titanic! I hear it’s as grand as Buckingham Palace! Unsinkable!”

Warnings: This book contains mature themes and discussions, such as gun violence, emotional and physical abuse, attempted suicide, mentions of blood, character deaths, heavy sexual content, and reference to the real maritime disaster of the 1912 cruise liner Titanic.

The needle a centimeter away from your finger and the one sitting between your incisors each created a rattling noise as you pressed the pump with your left foot and created a steady vibration. You opened and closed your lips ever so slightly in concentration. It was an evident possibility that your finger could inch its way too close to the hopping needle or that your tongue could swivel onto the pointed end and prick a drop of blood. But determination got the best of you as you heard the giggles and confident praises the seamstresses emitted. The stitching of your first full sweater would be completed in mere seconds, its elegant trail smiling right back up at you as the needle halted to a fine finish.

The ladies cheered as you carefully removed the sleeve from under the machine, holding your first completed work of art up in the air for everyone to marvel at. It was a dark green color, similar to how you would imagine those black and white photographs concealed the true pigment of the vast Amazon rain forest. It was easily donned over one’s head and onto the body in a swift movement of lifted arms and lacked the tightness of your dated Victorian clothing. It welcomed a breezy and comfortable afternoon with tea and silent tranquility. It was simple but the ladies in the workshop would not let your first completed stitching go unnoticed. You were a valued customer, as was your mother years ago before she began buying from more established designers, and their exclamations were definitely ones full of pride.

“It’s a wonder you finished so quickly! Come, let’s have a look at what you’ve accomplished!”

The ladies made sure the doors were locked before you stripped away your upper layers and uncomfortable corset. You breathed a sigh of a relief and a chuckle of reassurance for the worried faces staring back at you. You pulled the masterpiece over your head and immediately squealed in delight, happy that the fabric which treated your working hands delicately also did the same for your torso. It was slightly bigger than your form, baggy enough for you to fit both arms inwards as a blanket. You hugged yourself and swayed back and forth, smiling from the cheers and claps surrounding you.

“There we go! Now you’re a proper seamstress!”

A few ladies scolded the woman who spoke of your ‘low’ title, but you quickly dismissed their worry. “It’s alright! I believe this new clothing item earned me a proper title.”

The ladies all congratulated your hard work once again but were interrupted by a hard knock on the door. It seemed all knew who was lurking behind the wood, the atmosphere altering to one of uneasy stillness.

You sighed quietly, “Just go on.”

Everyone obliged, quickly picking up where they had left off before they had come to crowd around you and gawk at your hard work. You disregarded your other clothing laying on the floor and left your green sweater on.

You yourself were a sight to marvel at, all done up in the face with regular-looking clothing somehow tainting the priceless property of your soon-to-be husband. Or maybe he had already placed a price tag on your skin, like how they mark cattle with an abrupt hot stab. You never knew anything these days.

George cleared his throat and conducted a quick visual scan of the room. “You’re needed at the house, Miss.”

You breathed in deeply, mentally rolling your tired eyes at your fiancé’s personal bodyguard hire. It wasn’t that he was a total annoyance to have around, but that he was the most colossal annoyance to have entered your life after your fiancé, Cal. His eyes would never leave your body - not in an inappropriate manner but as caution for your safety. It was only on Tuesday you were able to free yourself from the constraints of your busy life to buy groceries alone, downtown, without help. It had become extra enjoyable to extend that peace by befriending the townspeople and participating in their daily lives. You didn’t view this as offensive simply because none of the seamstresses voiced a personal grievance. You wanted to partake in a normal activity, a hobby, in something you could actually call yours and not passed down through generations. But perhaps naming this a hobby while these women referred to it as their one underpaid job was privilege after all.

“Do they need me immediately or do they simply want me home?”

Your questions once startled George as you proved to be quite the pistol, answering back and reminding him that you outrank him as well, not just Cal. It was rude to do so, you acknowledged, but the sudden burst of adrenaline your body experienced anytime you would not follow Cal’s orders easily were beginning to feel like a forbidden midnight craving. But George laughed off your wit and proceeded to point to your abandoned corset and upper part of your dress, as if telling you to suit up, and walked away to wait for you in the car, a cigarette in between his index and middle finger.

As you shut the door for some well-deserved privacy, some ladies of the shop narrowed their eyes while others shared their stares of pity. You had briefly mentioned your lack of desire to marry at such a young age, wanting to marry for love instead of insurance. While some of the ladies understood your point of view, others could not possibly believe you would give up the chance to settle down and be financially stable for the rest of your life. It was a difference of opinion and class, but one thing was certain - none of you were free from the constraints of men.

You sadly stripped away the warmness of your sweater and lifted the white corset from the chair beside the sewing machine. The sound of a chair scraping against the floor and hurried footsteps painted a shy smile on your face. You remembered her name was Linda and watched as she rushed behind you to pull the strings of your corset slightly tighter than they already were. She was a middle-aged woman, more experienced than most women hired and perhaps the best. She had been the first to welcome you to the shop, teaching you the ropes of sewing - first by hand and then by machine. Linda often called her mentorship a privilege to conduct and made you promise to improve.

“Oh, Miss. I know life isn’t what you want it to be, but when does it ever work out for people like us?”

You turned your head over your shoulder slightly to look at her, “You mean us women?”

Linda cleared her throat uncomfortably and finished tightening the last bit of your corset. “Yes, but… pardon me, Miss but I think you have more choice than the lot of us women combined. ”

Linda held out your jacket so you could tuck your arms in. You understood her point in matters of class, but as you slid your arms through the sleeves and saw how the glimmer of sunlight danced off your brown skin, you evaluated the types of privilege Linda had that you didn’t. But you would not overstep her boundaries, and instead remained quiet.

“I don’t mean that to sound rude, Miss. Only that, even with an unhappy marriage, there are plenty of freedoms to explore that most people will never get to.”

You buttoned the front of your jacket yourself and let Linda finish speaking. What she said was absolutely correct. Lots of people suffer through boring and arranged marriages, finding joy once they bring new life into the world or handling the property portion of your household. It most certainly sounded like a simple compromise. But the thought of a loveless marriage with only the hope of conception to bring actual love into the world upset you. There had to be more to it than just that.

“Thank you, Linda. I hope to see you in the next year or so.”

Linda momentarily covered her mouth in shock, “I completely forgot! You’re going to America!” Her outburst caused a couple of the ladies to murmur to each other, all sharing their want for the new American dream the papers were talking about. It was said there was no heavy violence, property was easy to obtain, and gold was discoverable by anyone with a working hand and a shovel. But you didn’t believe the lies - it was the same hole as England, if not worse.

“Oh, please write, Miss! Share your adventures with the group,” Linda laughed, gathering your purse in her hands and into your waiting ones. She handed you the forgotten groceries and your new green sweater as well. “And tell us about that Titanic! I hear it’s as grand as Buckingham Palace! Unsinkable!”

You nodded and smiled to the group of ladies who had become your friends in such a short amount of time. “I’ll be sure to write with great detail. Don’t get into any trouble without me.”

Linda scoffed, “And if we do, you’ll hear about it through the mail!”

You laughed and voiced your goodbyes, walking out of a peaceful atmosphere into the polluted streets in search of the waiting car.

The enjoyment of silence and limited movement had always been a treasured feeling. Your feet taking small steps across such a large bedroom and emitting such a small sound while the clock ticked every second was such a lighthearted moment in your busy schedule. You folded the last bit of your clothes from the drawers into the bags the maid fetched, making sure to wrap the small perfume bottles as tenderly as possible inside your undergarments. Neatly tucked away in the corners, you glanced around the grand bedroom that had witnessed your mental deterioration for the past two years. It had encased you in times of grief as you said final goodbyes to your father; in times of brief happiness each time one of your horses won a race; in times of uncomfortable stillness as you destroyed gifts from loved ones, corsets string-by-string, or bottles of champagne from congratulations on your engagement. It was time to say goodbye and welcome four new walls to witness more tumbling emotions.

A small knock at your door interrupted your thoughts. “Thought you could use a little help with the last of your belongings.”

If it wasn’t for your incredible acting skills, you probably would have screamed at Cal a thousand and one times by now about absolutely everything and nothing. He was subtly controlling, insisting which books you should and shouldn’t read or what food you should or shouldn’t try. For an engagement that was barely three months strong, you had already experienced fifty years of a failed marriage.

You gave a small smile, “Thank you.”

Cal stepped into the room with your given permission, shutting the door gently behind him and locking it. You sighed deeply as you heard the click, trying to occupy yourself by wrapping the last bottles of perfume with undergarments. It occured to you in that moment that your private wardrobe was out in the open, so you quickly tucked the last bottle without its personal wrap and zipped the bag closed. Cal didn’t seem to notice your clumsy actions, instead focusing on lighting the cigarette between his lips.

You stood at the foot of your bed and clasped your hands together, “You know I don’t like cigarette smoke in my bedroom, Cal.”

Cal chuckled and moved to grab the bottom half of your torso. You allowed him to guide you into his chest, swaying with him back and forth while simultaneously avoiding the dangling stick from his lips. Cal exhaled the smoke over your head and made sure all the smoke exited before he leaned down to press scattered kisses across your neck. Self-control abandoned, the involuntary grimace to stain your face remained unseen by your poor fiancé, who was only trying to selfishly build a certain romantic mood that was sure to escalate in the next week on your wedding night. Cal had it in mind that if he introduced a new intimate gesture every day, you wouldn’t act so cold during the ceremony. It was worth a shot, but the complete disregard for your upset over cigarette smoke was enough to bump his score back a few points.

“I was hoping the packing was all finished,” Cal sighed, trailing his kisses closer to your collarbone. “The help gets paid for this, Sweetpea. You shouldn’t waste your time and energy.”

You cleared your throat to break the one-sided tension, “It calms me, actually. Besides, the household is busy preparing for our departure in other ways.”

Your engagement had caused a disruption in the everyday lives of your staff. It was known that you had to marry after your father’s death or else your family wealth was in jeopardy. Your father had left everything in your name - property, money in the banks, jewels - anything and everything. But it was the nonexistent trust of your capabilities that people would not outright express. Coupled with the fact you were in your early twenties, no one would confide in your training abilities, rent your property, or give you loans. Getting married was practically on the agenda since your father announced his diagnosis.

“Think of this,” Cal began, blowing out smoke and flicking the ash onto the floor. “In a week's time, you won’t need to worry about anything.”

He paused before taking another long drag of his cigarette. “America will welcome us with open arms and open pockets.”

“Must we think too much of the future? Can’t we just enjoy the present moment?” you spoke quietly, still swaying against him.

Cal chuckled softly and gripped your chin lightly with his thumb and index finger to tilt your head upward. “America is full of such rich opportunity! How can I not envision it?”

You shrugged your shoulders and departed his loose grasp. “I’m not saying you can’t imagine-”

“No need to imagine!” Cal yelled excitedly, playfully falling on his right side at the foot of your bed. “I know it isn’t a figment of my imagination. It’s real…” he continued, looking up at the ceiling in undisturbed awe, “we can be as big as the Rockefellers.”

You chuckled softly and picked up your bag to bring it to the chair by your door. “I’m sure our reachable dreams will suit us just fine.”

Cal scoffed jokingly, “Think of it! Your father’s property, our combined assets, the booming railroad business-”

“Actually, they say trains are becoming less and less valuable as automobiles become more affordable.”

Cal looked at you with wide eyes and a confused stare. “Well, whoever you are referencing was wrong.”

You wanted to list your sources and prove him wrong, but decided against the nasty argument.

He continued to preach, “Just envision it, Sweetpea. It’s already in our grasp.”

You pretended to ‘envision’ his world by staring at the same spot he was, but could only see lonely nights in a house too big for the two of you and endless parties with mindless chatter. It was already draining the energy from your chest, so you simply lied to your fiancé to end the conversation.

“I can’t wait to see it, Cal.”

Cal jumped to his feet and fixed his tie before heading for the door. You could honestly say this was the longest conversation you ever had with Cal, and one where he wasn’t so bland. He seemed comfortable and relaxed around you right now, when usually he’s controlling and constrained. Air being sucked from your lungs without warning and then quickly replaced in a sharp and painful manner. A desperate reminder that you would have to learn to endure this endless suffering if you wanted to live comfortably. ‘Comfortable’ and ‘cheerful’ were two words that were completely foreign in feeling, on your tongue, in your social circle even. But yet again, you reminded yourself of your place - a place that you would simply have to learn the rules of. Cal was quick to change personalities anytime someone would interrupt your already tamed conversation, either showing you off as an extravagant prize or as a nuisance, someone to fetch him another Brandy.

Perhaps it was due to the proximity of his American dream.

“Perfect, Sweetpea,” he leaned forward to kiss your cheek. “I’ll see you tomorrow around seven. We have to be up bright and early to get to the docks by nine.”

You nodded and waved him goodbye, “See you then.”

You spent all night tossing and turning in your massive bed, hearing the trees sway with the wind and the midnight workers opening and shutting gates every five minutes. Silence greeted you only momentarily, somehow interrupting your thrashing or your wild thoughts, wishing you would open your eyes and imagine random designs in the ceiling above you. But as you did so, an intense wave of pain would sever any ounce of playful imagination your mind struggled to concoct, teasing an impossible ability to conceive a world other than your own.

Tomorrow you would be locked away in the most elegant room on the grandest ship in the world, each swirl and twist of captivating designs sprawled across another four walls offering its own imagination to your tangled mind - another four walls that will observe your internal struggles with yourself, your husband-to-be, your “rich people problems”.

And all you wanted was to disappear. Perhaps jump into that endless, blue abyss and have the world forget you ever breathed its air. Those four walls would only taunt you, remind you of the nauseating situation you were constantly in, breaking you further until all that’s left is another tombstone in your already crowded family garden. Your problems seemed miniscule as you thought about the setting of your deterioration, a luxurious and expensive atmosphere to suffocate inside.

Perhaps you were overreacting.

And as you heard another gate shutting and making an obscene amount of noise, you swallowed back those pitiful tears and reminded yourself that it could always be worse.

It could always be worse.

But instead of disappearing, you decided to wander through the dark hallways of your home and sneak into the main kitchen. The peace and quiet you were hoping for as you devoured some chocolate chip cookies was absent and the kitchen roared with about half a dozen servants cleaning and packaging the food for donation. No one stopped their tasks because you entered the room, so you took that as an invitation to peck through the food on the counters. You found the sweets near the middle tables, still unpacked and freshly baked from this morning. You stacked a few cookies and lonely blackberries onto a single napkin, pulled out a chair, and sat to relish the flavor of each small creation.

“Sugar at night will give you nightmares.”

You chuckled lightly, turning to smile at the only servant who took notice of your presence. “It’s worth it if this is the last time I’ll taste Hernando’s baked wonders.”

“Oh, don’t speak like that! Soon you’ll be back here and stuffing your face with all kinds of sweets.”

She wiped down the counter behind her quickly so she could sit beside you. You offered her a cookie, handing one to her but she declined.

“What’s got you awake at near midnight? You have a busy day ahead and you need to rest up,” she said, folding her washcloth absentmindedly. Although you wanted to be fully honest with someone, you still kept most of your worries confidential.

“I don’t want to go back to America,” you admitted.

She scoffed, an action that modeled her desires rather than yours. “Why would you want to stay here? All of your father’s family is back in the states!”

You shrugged, taking a bite of your cookie. You spoke softly as to not invite gossip from others, “If I don’t go, then I won’t get married. Besides, all my family is out West. We’re staying on the east coast.”

She gave a sympathetic look, reaching out to tap your hand gently. “We’re not all meant to marry for love. But most of us do fall in love after… gradually.”

You scrunched your nose in slight annoyance, realizing that she had completely glossed over the mention of your family and the distance between them. “My mother said the same thing.”

“She is an honest woman. Perhaps she is right and you are just stubborn.”

Now wanting to end the conversation, you stuffed a cookie into your mouth so she would be forced to continue speaking without your input. She instructed another servant to pour you a cup of tea that had just finished heating.

“Who knows, dear? He could turn out to be more wonderful than you expected.”

Clearing your throat, you brushed your hands off on a nearby napkin and carefully handled the tea, standing from the table with a slight frown on your face.

“One can only hope,” you said, bidding the midnight staff goodbye. “Please tell Hernando that I will miss his cooking.”

The cookies had relieved you of some of your building stress and the tea was also aiding in your recovery, but they quickly digested and sat in your half-empty stomach. You took long glances at the walls of the hallway adorned with family portraits, random maps, and lifesize sculptures leaning against them. You were saying goodbye in your own way, the only way possible, and it felt somewhat nostalgic - so quiet and yours.

There was a strong possibility that you would return, but for some reason there was a need to say goodbye. Because if you never did return, you knew it wouldn’t be by your own choice.

Thank you so much for your lovely comments! It truly means a lot. -Moni xx

32 notes · View notes

crowsent · 4 years ago

Text

AUgust 2020: Angels & Demons

Challenge given by @augustwritingchallenge

Summary: Goro won’t ever get justice. Vengeance, though... Vengeance Goro could get.

“Don’t you want vengeance, Goro Akechi?” A hand shot out from the darkness. "I can offer you vengeance. All I ask is possession of your immortal soul."

Pairing: N/A can be interpreted as ShuAke

Characters: Goro Akechi, Joker (Akira Kurusu/Ren Amamiya)

Word Count: 2305

CW: N/A

Notes: the tumblr version is unformatted. for that reason, i highly recommend you to read the ao3 version instead so yall get that sweet sweet tone difference.

i didnt include the “angel” part of the angels & demons but you know. potato potahto. also, big thanks to @yusuke-of-valla for giving me an AMAZING prompt. hope i did it justice

AO3 Link: HERE

She was buried quietly, without fanfare and without mourners. Goro remembered staying at her grave hours after sunset, clutching the single flower he brought for her between his fingers so tightly it had crushed the leaves and petals and stem into a mangled mess.

The sky was a dark inky blot by the time a woman with tightly bunned hair and a blue and white striped uniform came for him and said that since his last living relative was six feet underground, Goro would be put into foster care. Dark clouds swirled over the horizon, flanking the boom of oncoming thunder. Goro wanted to tell her that he had a living relative still, a piece of trash masquerading as a man. Shido. Masayoshi Shido.

But who’d believe a dirty bastard child over the nation’s darling upstanding politician? The son of a whore with not a single yen to his name against a “respectable” and reliable Masayoshi fucking Shido. Even as a child, Goro understood that he won’t get his justice. This biased, pathetic excuse of a system won’t ever give him his justice. He followed that woman into an orphanage and let the years pass being shuffled from place to place. No roots. No friends. No bonds. Just a pebble thrown into sea, meant to be swallowed and spat back out again.

Goro won’t get justice. Justice for the years he suffered unwanted, unneeded, and unloved. He won’t get justice for his mother whose only mistake was being too kind and loving something that deserved no love at all. Justice for the society that looked at his face and deemed him unworthy to be saved and left him to drown.

Goro won’t ever get justice.

“But I can give you vengeance.”

Vengeance.

That word, over and over again in his dreams, a promise, a vow, an offer and an absolution. Goro didn’t know when it started, exactly. All he knew is that at some point in the blur of his adolescence, a voice started calling out to him in his dreams. Hands with black-painted nails, perfectly manicured, beckoning him into the depth of an endless void. Pointed horns and red eyes. A smile and the glint of shiny teeth. And in his mind, the voice would ring out, “Vengeance. Vengeance. Vengeance.”

Justice is for children. Wide-eyed children with petty idealism and a gross misunderstanding of how the world works, of how cruel the world is, of how unwanted and unneeded and un-special they were. Vengeance, though… Vengeance for his mother’s life ruined by the selfish ego of one man undeserving of every breath he deigned to steal, his cruelty, his blatant disregard for the one thing that Goro had in this sham of a life. Vengeance for Goro. Vengeance to quell the pit of hatred and despair and the thrashing of wild listlessness and chaos.

Vengeance, Goro could get.

“Don’t you want Vengeance, Goro Akechi?” asked the voice in his dreams. “Son of a whore and a bastard child. You are playing an unjust game in a world that will never deliver justice.” A hand shot out from the darkness. Pale skin. Dark nails. And past that, further in, gleaming eyes. Blood red. Inhuman. “I can offer you vengeance. I can offer you Masayoshi Shido’s head on a pike, his legacy tarnished, the vision of Japan he was willing to burn the world down for handed to you on a silver platter.”

And in his dreams, Goro always refused. Denied and rejected and lashed out with violent words and the hurl of his fists that only ever seemed to pass through smoke. Even in his dreams, he was taunted. Taunted with something he can never truly have.

That time though, that night, on the eighth anniversary of the day of his mother’s death, on the day Goro stood alone over her grave crushing a delicate flower in his murderous, loveless hands, the creature lurking in Goro’s head won.

In that dream, Goro had reached out back into the darkness, hands shaking as he hesitated mere inches from the flawless hand beckoning him into a mad abyss. “And you’d want something in return, I presume?”

There was almost a chuckle in response to that. “But of course,” said the creature. Horns flashed for a brief moment, sharp and black and angled forward. Flames seemed to lick up the creature’s smile. “All I ask is possession of your immortal soul, Goro Akechi. Give that to me upon your death, and you will have all that you want and more.”

A soul. A soul to finally see Shido fall. To see his pathetic excuse for a father finally get his just desserts. A soul to get the justice -the vengeance- for his mother, for himself. Goro leaned forward, let his bony half-starved hand grasp the one shrouded in darkness, and spoke:

“You have yourself a deal.”

Because really. His soul was dirty, broken, and worth less than the mud on his shirt.

If that’s what he had to give, then he’d give it. Gladly. A hundred, a thousand, a million times over.

The figure in the darkness of his dreams grasped his hand, grasped it tightly, too tightly, until it began to hurt but Goro held on. Then the hand shaked his, slowly, deliberately, and a burning searing pain followed. Not in Goro’s hand but further in, his chest, his head, his heart. His soul. It burned and burned and burned a searing pain, like something was peeling his skin away bit by agonising bit. Still Goro held on.

“Stubborn,” chuckled the voice in Goro’s dream. The hand receded, the pain faded, until all that Goro was left with was darkness and the piercing red eyes. “We will get along well, Goro Akechi.”

The eyes vanished and left behind an echo.

“You may call me Joker.”

Goro woke up.

He was not a child, not a teenager fraught with dreams of deals and vengeance and darkness. He was Goro Akechi, a respected detective fresh out of the academy, praise and accolades and connections to his name. Loved by the common folk for his humble beginnings, an orphan who had to work and bleed and sweat to claw his way into the upper echelons of society, a beacon of hope that maybe they too can make their way up the ladder. Loved by the elite for his charm and wit and charisma, his flawless manners, his cadence, his posture, his mask. One of his masks.

It took years. Years longer than what Goro would have wanted, years longer than what Goro could have been patient with, but at last, he could begin the endeavor that kept him going through years. Bring down Shido. More than a quick death. More than humiliation. More than anything Goro himself could have thought of.

The thing that Masayoshi Shido valued most. Himself. His reputation. His power. His legacy. His control. Brick by fucking brick, Goro would tear it all down. Watch the ruins burn in ashes. Have Shido’s name cursed for years, for generations, for future historians to come. Have the entirety of this nation sneer at the mere mention of his name.

All it took was a soul.

The best damn thing Goro’s soul could ever be worth, honestly.

“I can do many things, Goro, but even I can’t delay a dedicated media crew,” came a voice in his head. Familiar, after years of hearing it. Joker stood at the doorway, insouciant, relaxed, leaning against the frame of Goro’s bedroom door with that irritating nigh-permanent smirk on his face.

He looked human now, which was probably the most unsettling thing about him. No horns. No face wreathed in fire. No clawed hands, no tail, no wings. Joker’s red eyes were a very human black, framed with glasses that made him look innocent and harmless when he was anything but. “Out of bed Goro.” Really, the only thing that belied Joker’s true nature was his smile. The glint of canines just a bit too sharp to be human, visible for only a breath before vanishing once again into this perfect veneer. A mask. “The new Detective Prince can’t be late for his own interview, Goro. Out of bed.”

The pillows were soft, the mattress inviting, the window positioned just so to let the right amount of sunlight in. Ultimately simple, so that when reporters and paparazzi invaded what little semblance of privacy he had left, all they’d see was a humble man living a humble life. The image Goro wanted to cultivate, that Joker advised him to cultivate. The perfect mask.

With a heavy sigh, Goro dragged himself back to the realm of the conscious with a false smile, practised so often it reached his eyes, crinkled them at the edges and lit them up how a real smile would. It was terrifying how he didn’t even have to think about it, how it was as easy as breathing. “My interview isn’t until after noon.” Goro can’t quite remember the last time he smiled genuinely. It was terrifying that Goro didn’t care. And though sleep clung to him still, Goro sat straight-backed, knees slung over his bed and crossed at the ankle. An image. A mask.

Joker gave him a smile. Well, it wasn’t entirely a smile. There was joy in it, sure, and more than a little excitement, but Goro had never quite seen another human being give that look. One of hedonistic greed not for power or wealth but for thrill, chasing something that can’t be caught and loving every second anyway. A dangerous thing, an incorporeal thing, an emotion or an experience or just the mere imaginings of something too alien for Goro to grasp.

“It isn’t. But wouldn’t you want to witness the death of the IT President that eats from Shido’s hand like a loyal dog?”

But then again, Joker wasn’t human.

For all Goro knew, this look was how creatures like Joker smiled. If they could even smile. If Goro could even smile. His camera-ready expression slipped into something other at the news. Lips stretched wide, teeth bared. It might have been a smile. It might have been him imitating the expression Joker’s face. It might have been simply Goro, delighted to know that the crumbling of Shido’s empire had already begun. Sadistic and feral and removed.

“I thought you said that Shido shouldn’t die,” said Goro conversationally, in the same tone one might discuss the weather. Despite how still and steady his voice was, he could not hide the excited tremor that ran through his body, the thrill of seeing his dream finally begin to take root and bloom into an ugly thorny rose.

If Joker noticed, he did not say. “True. I said Shido shouldn’t die. But I said nothing of the men working under him.” Goro was on his feet. Wordlessly, Joker handed him a simple summer outfit, a coat, his gloves. “The ultimate suffering for Shido is a life without power, without influence. A long life of being less than nothing. His subordinates though?”

“Weapons,” said Goro as he dressed himself. To be used against Shido. To have their lives be the sword and the bullets and the gun. To have their deaths be a wound.

For a split second, Goro could have sworn that flames erupted in Joker’s eyes. But when he blinked, it was gone, and Joker was laughing.“Right you are, Goro. They’re casualties in the war. Trash. Tools that have outlived their usefulness.” Joker led Goro out the bedroom, into the hall. Handed him a cup of coffee and a sandwich. “A threat to Shido perhaps?” Joker paused his stride just long enough to look into Goro’s eyes. “Maybe our IT President found something about Shido that he shouldn’t have.” They did not stop in the dining room for Goro’s breakfast.

“Did he?”

“Does it matter?” Joker asked.

“It doesn’t.”

Joker chuckled. The hallway light flickered with each breath and the shadows curled at his ankle. “We’ll create a story, Goro. The president dies from some… unseen force and you’re simply the good samaritan who wanted to help. You’ll get closer to the public, you get an in with Shido, and you get to watch the fall from inside the ivory tower.”

Goro took a sip of his coffee. Roasted to perfection. “And you will get my soul.”

They passed by the floor mirror in the living room. Joker’s reflection was not that of a man with fluffy black hair and a dark button-up. It was shadow and flame and a creature with horns and black-clawed hands. “And I will get your soul. But only after you watch Shido get dragged through something worse than hell. Such is the terms of our deal.”

All for the price of Goro’s soul.

“Well,” Goro smiled, sharp and fake and utterly convincing, “I suppose I’ll take my morning walk. I have an interview coming up, after all. I should clear my head.”

Joker laughed. Deep, hungry, triumphant. He vanished into black smoke and receded into the dark corners of the house just as Goro opened the door. He wasn’t gone though, not really. There was a fire in Goro’s chest, painful and freeing and damning all at once. A brand of malediction and a stain on the soul he already sold.

And when Goro saw a brown-haired man in nice clothes with a laptop bag slung over his shoulder suddenly collapse in the middle of the street, grasping his throat for invisible hands that slowly strangled life out, he heard Joker’s voice in his head again. Loud, clear, and malicious.

Vengeance.

Goro dropped his coffee and his breakfast and rushed forward, putting on a mask that fit far too well on his face. “Are you alright sir!?”

Vengeance.

#crowsas writes #persona #persona 5 #p5 #goro akechi #akira kurusu #ren amamiya #au_gust_2020

14 notes · View notes

404fmdminjung · 4 years ago

Text

creative claims — blueming

summary: written during the course of promotions for loveforclosure. she finds one sense of home in the fans, writes a song to the people that shower her with love. (basically coming off a high of a well-received comeback). warnings: none wc: 1906 (not including lyrics)

in retrospect, time changes a lot of things.

a year prior, and a flop of a song — the signs all pointing straight towards the shackles of gold star’s dungeon. now, they’ve shined her up. polished the record out for the masses, and the pour of public love in the horizon. no longer a flop, the rough and jagged edges of each comment to tear her apart and strip her semblance piece by piece become softened, blurred at the lines. angry voices poured at the expensive of fingers tapping against the keyboard with the anonymous faces now refreshed and shifted towards positive praise, comments statured with hearts and support.

how do you handle the sudden 180 when your heart also falters, and teeters towards the change of pace?

minjung surely doesn’t know. doesn’t know how to cope, so her hands remain on the edges of her notebook, one hand out pulling the pages apart inside a moving van that takes her to the first schedule of promotions.

blue. she jots that down quickly, let’s the dips in the road add character to each crooked line scrawled on the stage. blue used to be synonymous with dreary melancholy, strapped down to the midnight dreariness of a city that never sleeps. she painted herself blue once, downed by the ridicule of modern day public execution via the comments. now, she blooms.

stages after the first two become easier. synonymous with echoes and the small trinkets and packages of gifts given when she hops back into the guise of privacy, into the van. she’s back at stage one, notebook in pocket, phone in hand.

she remembers the first few instances hopping into a kakao chat dedicated to her — even manages to get kicked off a few times before staying on, and hearing the outpour of cheer and love dedicated.

when she gets off, says her goodbyes, she realizes one thing’s changed: her heart blooms, softens with each message sent. enough to stir the grin across her cheeks when her smile hangs steady with eyes that gleam over the page written ‘blue’.

it’s an uncanny feeling, feeling filled more to the tips of the brim with each passing day — a feeling novel, something she still can’t handle whole.

what i said what’s up i really meant i miss you.

all along, the missing shade of blue she’s forgotten on the canvas layered and layer, is love around. memories wiped from a missing skeleton of her pass, and she fails to realize — the love settled around, is the one she’s neglected to see for more than face value till now.

in each and every emoji my subtle feelings keep changing, i wonder if you know

she recollects the past five minutes on her phone in the group chat, the small tidbits of surprise now caked onto a revelation. her monotone speech patterns and quick sent texts, subjugated to a more personalized form as the seconds tick on. busyness, fatigue. it’s all an empty excuse when her heart flutters with a tinge upward, thoughts of fans now filling the crevices of her fragmented heart.

insomnia, lack of sleep. she’s running on two hours bustling from one schedule to the next. but seo minjung has never followed the textbook rules of what to feel and at what time. she’s an outsider looking in, going against the force and the nature of tides pushing one way to another. because where fatigue should rest heavy on her shoulders, now — she’s no longer drowning. instead, stepping higher into the clouds like stargirl. girl with a light heart, and now she’s drunk with a scent of resolution.

i’m making roses blossom with my thumb i think i’m getting drunk with the scent it’s in our own secret garden.

the high doesn’t wind down as schedules persist. instead, each day she’s met with the feelings of a hurricane. ripped from her roots, heart fleshed open when the smile no longer seizes itself faux, but as a token of genuine ties each time she sits down, resorts back to the words compiling on the page.

this song’s for them. the lyrics, each one in a one-on-one head-first conversation. ideation that perhaps, this becomes a fleeting moment. a transient piece where they’re sitting at top of the climax before it all topples over, downward straight to hell. but she’s not a worrier, doesn’t bother looking back.

(for once, she chooses to relish this moment right here).

i feel bloom, i’m sending you one more flower updating you with my all-nighter work the author of this interesting piece of work, that’s me maybe this is the climax of the relationship

the nip of her pen glides freely against the page, her own welcome to her headspace. no beat, no notes in mind. rather, it’s the diary that opens up the beginnings of what’s right in her heart now.

—

there’s an itch under her skin — one rarely ignored. it comes at a pang to her gut, knocks the sleepless night right into her, prompting her to make a beeline towards the makeshift studio in her apartment.

here and there, she tries to think of a tune. a slow pull of languid minors, layering on the heaviness of desolation in navy’s. she doesn’t want that, least not a ballad coming off the tails of another — she scraps that, saves the file and backlogs it for another day. then comes the juxtaposition of jazzy facts, the strong isolation of saxophones and trombones — a drop in a rough beat, painting the song a vibrant cobalt. it’s one worth dancing to, boppy tunes to wreck havoc on a stage. still, it renders itself useless by the time she shoves that rendition straight to the trash can.

no notes in any sort of transition, instead she finds solace on the guitar she hasn’t touched in a near two months. it hangs, lingers on like a presence in the room — she makes a note, guitar. scribbled at the top of her page before ushering herself back to the confines of her bed.

a day off, and the song resurrects itself through the guitar nestled in her arms. she strums herself a chord in a minor, a major — finds the three notes, clamored down to the cacophony of something bright. still, decides it remains a stretch to keep it with too much embellishment. instead, she plucks the notes apart from each other — one by one, f into c. c into e, hitting a baseline at g.

at this point, it drops the seedlings to something promising and light. the shade of periwinkle she’s envisioned all along — it’s light to touch, easy to the ears. breathless in a come-and-dance with me switch. minjung repeats the plucking, one by one, till the solidification of the notes come full circle once the record button presses and her voice hums along to the melody etched in-between.

it starts at an easy lull before she paves way with the full-on start of the chords all at once by the time the chorus hits. two chords, a pause. then the entrance of the next two in repeat — at this point, it’s no longer and algorithm of what makes the numbers on the chart or a fragment of herself embodied into a play. instead, it’s the drive of having fun, enjoying each second put into the process.

(trust the process, nobody ever said it was going to be easy).

it sounds digital by the time she puts the first line of guitar work down. the recordings now becoming repetitive, one after another — a simple base in bare bones, nothing flashy or a change in the tempo. it all charges steadily, following expectations of the song’s natural rhythm.

her mouse clicks around and by now, it’s the addition of the percussion. the simple add-on to where she imagines the first verse tuning in — the deep percussion adds a depth to the periwinkle, the wrinkles of something more saturated, less fluttery.

the essence of the song’s been fluttery heartbeats. the intangible things unspoken from her to the fans, and for now — she makes her mark by saving the file, setting aside for another day with her arms stretched out, enough for the yawn to escape in broad daylight.

no makeup, sitting inside some rugged sweats and a t-shirt. (this feels like the first in a long time where home’s presented a new look).

by the time she resorts back, it’s the end of promotions — free days shifted in between preparations for fuse’s next comeback. her heart’s no where near hands-up, long far with her cold shoulder response becoming synonymous with the lackluster dead-eyed expression for a mind that’s been humming hte melody to the song written in the books.

her own sense of peace, and her piece of privacy. solo work, now trumping and reigning on top of anything else presented to her.

she’s thought about it all day — the backing vocals, the ad-libs. where to start, and where to end. by the time she finds herself situated in front of her screen, her notebook sprawled out and jaded eyes that click around to the record. she starts with the ah-ah-ah’s, the makeshift forced rhymes that fall at the end of each verse. tunes her voice back in for the lulls of simple humming.

yet, by the time she sits down, plays back the puzzle pieces of what’s the marred total composition on her screen, she furrows her brow. bites down on her lip, pen in hand. the end of the pen taps on the surface of her desk, mind still buried inside the missing facet. imagination and creativity doesn’t spur when you want it to — it’s once again the process and the clicks of the mouse transitioning one type, to another.

seo minjung settles on the synth and the slow paced transitioning of warping her voice to an electronic belt. like stereo noise, it thins out where she wants it to be. almost muting it down to a subtle pull, a settled flesh of a song that makes her hear from the next room over. her mouth furls into a grin, a toothy grin saved for instances like these.

because what this song isn’t a piece of her anymore. nor a recollection of heartbreak on repeat.

instead, it’s fruitful, light and airy. like she’s floating on a cloud, far far away with her hands reached far apart, slotted to the love the fans boost her on. whether they’re a mirage of fusions or the few that brand themselves as a heart only filled by hear — she doesn’t care. it’s all an ode to them at this point.

no longer hiding behind her cowardice, wallowing around in the has-beens and the what-ifs of a play by play scenario. this time, this song goes out to a crowd that helped her remain stationed and whole, billowing with the calm sense of comfort.

comfort comes in many ways, home defines itself new each time.

only, this time she doesn’t sway from one new cloud or another pillar of stability. she’s still a nomad, wandering from one welcoming house to the next, filled with the fireplace of warmth and a comfortable meal. whatever food they home, they offer. she accepts — home’s a place where you define it. right now, seo minjung defines home with where the people are, wrapped up in open arms and a belonging.

whether she’s the ballader on stage. the travesty walking on yesterday’s heartbreak or the dancing diva in haphazard movements —they’ve accepted her for what she leaves at face value. the songs weren’t meant to soothe wounds or an album to flesh out the bad — it was an attempt at closure. and what she got in return, is the closure she least expected.

#fmdverification

1 note · View note

antiquecompass · 5 years ago

Text

Untamed Spring Fest Day 15: Growth

Wherein there is an art show and an ex.

It wasn’t often they got a weekend away together during the school year, but this time it was a special circumstance. The Rhode Island School of Design Craft Show had selected Xichen as one of its three jurors this year. It was an honor for him, and for Lan Academy, and so while Xichen didn’t like to leave the school for any amount of time, especially not right before the first quarter report cards went out, he couldn’t refuse this invitation.

“Is Xichen nervous?”

Jiang Cheng looked up from where he was giving Sugar her final hugs before setting out for the weekend. His sister had offered to watch all the pets, but Jiang Cheng loved her far too much to leave her with a dog and three cats on top of her children. Molly had agreed to take care of the cats back at Xichen’s home. Sugar needed a little more attention, and since Jin Ling had already shown a love for dogs, it would be a good test run for him in the future.

Even if the Peacock swore they’d never had a dog.

It was one of maybe three things Jiang Cheng and Meng Yao agreed on: if their nephew wanted a dog, he was getting a dog.

“I’d be nervous,” Yanli said. “I still get nervous judging cooking competitions. I hate when people don’t get rewarded for at least trying their hardest.”

His beloved, tender-hearted sister. He loved her so much.

“You know Xichen feels the same about art. He refuses to claim any one medium or style has more value than the other. To him, it’s always about being made with some sort of genuine emotion. The jurors for this show remain anonymous, so that won’t be a burden to him this weekend.” He stood, wiping off bits of Sugar’s fur from his pants and tried not to let his temper flare at the one very shitty part of this weekend. “His ex is presenting there this year though, and I think he’s more nervous about that than anything else. He’s avoided that jackass since he graduated.”

“Or maybe he’s more nervous about what you will do,” Yanli said. “Not that such a horrible person doesn’t deserve every verbal wound you’d give him. Or a physical one. Trip the bastard, make him knock out a tooth.”

“Yanli!”

She shrugged. “You could do worse. This way it’ll be a justifiable accident. How anyone could be that horrible to Xichen of all people.”

If Yanli knew everything that bastard had said to Xichen, the emotional manipulative shit he’d pulled over a year-long relationship, she’d probably invite herself along to give the fucker a piece of her mind.

“I don’t want to make it awkward or more difficult for Xichen this weekend,” Jiang Cheng said. “So I’ll be nice and professional; my normal asshole self to that piece of shit; and then I’ll set mom and Huaisang on the little rat’s trail once I get his business card.”

“Good,” Yanli said. Her cold tone faded as her bright smile returned. “If you see a peacock--”

“I’ll buy it for your family’s collection,” Jiang Cheng promised her.

***********

The Freeman Hotel was old by date, historic by design, and a little full of itself, but Jiang Cheng knew it would be a better fit for Xichen who had almost accepted the school’s offer of rooming at the Hilton. Not that the Hilton was a bad hotel, but Xichen was and remained a kind, but pampered, prince and they’d both be far more comfortable with their suite here. Xichen had fallen in love with the hotel the first time they’d stayed, and so now every time they came to Providence, they stayed in the same premier suite. It was one of their own traditions.

“You were right,” Xichen said as they exited the car. “The Hilton would’ve been fine, but it wouldn’t have felt right.”

Jiang Cheng nodded as he pulled their bags out of the trunk. “And I’m sure you’ll still meet some of your fellow alumni here, but we can still have a semblance of privacy.”

The staff here was very good and very respectful. They were also pet friendly which was one of the many reasons they stayed here.

“And escape,” Xichen agreed. He grinned as they headed towards the lobby. “We’ll both need it after this weekend.”

“Being polite is so exhausting,” Jiang Cheng agreed.

“As if you’d know,” Xichen teased.

“It’s a good thing I love you so much, or I’d leave you to fend for yourself with the alumni masses this weekend,” Jiang Cheng said.

Xichen dipped his head and kissed the tip of Jiang Cheng’s nose. They entered the lobby happy--laughing--both feeling lighter than they had during the past few weeks of work and stress.

“Mr. Lan! Mr. Jiang! It’s so good to see you again,” Santos greeted them from behind the counter. “No Sugar this time?”

“We left her with family this weekend,” Jiang Cheng said.

“We’ll miss her,” Santos said. He passed over their room keys and wished them well.

They both lingered in the lobby, studying the current art exhibit. There was always at least one art exhibit, no matter the time of year. This particular one also had various pieces from the School of Design’s student body and alumni. It was certainly going to be a weekend for it. They passed various little lounges and hidden corners full of books and art and all different types of comfortable chairs. They passed the main winding staircase that led up to the top floors of the original building, past the little door that led to a hidden garden path, and then finally headed towards the bank of elevators.

As they passed another little alcove, Xichen froze.

“Baby?” Jiang Cheng asked.

Xichen’s shoulders dropped, the joy from earlier seeming to disappear. Jiang Cheng’s protective instincts immediately went on alert, he stepped in front of Xichen, trying to find whatever could’ve caused such a sudden change in his mood. All he could hear was a nasally voice talking about the children’s paintings in the back alcove with that pretentious bullshit tone that only came from people who were too rich or too full of themselves or both.

“Some parents just shouldn’t encourage their students to pursue art. Just look at this?”

What in the actual fuck? Who in the hell criticized children’s art projects?

“Well, that’s a soulless asshole,” Jiang Cheng said.

Xichen nodded. Cleared his throat. And nodded again. “So, um...that’s my college boyfriend. Brantley.”

Jiang Cheng felt a mixture of rage, anger, and disbelief.

Really, disbelief more than anything.

“Brantley’s not a human name, it’s a horse’s name,” Jiang Cheng replied before he could form any other thoughts. He shook his head as he tried to drown out the nasally voice still droning on. “That?” he asked, pointing to where the voice came from. “Him?”

“Mistakes were made,” Xichen said, a twist of a smile back on his lips and a hint of sparkle in his eyes.

“A mistake is when you put a red shirt in with a load of whites,” Jiang Cheng said. “That is a fucking travesty.”

That asshole was the source of so many of Xichen’s firsts. That was the motherfucker who called Xichen boring. Who told him he wasn’t enough to keep anyone satisfied. Said he only got into RISD because of his family name. Called Xichen plain and hardly memorable. That motherfucker who was critiquing a kid’s drawing of Spongebob friggin’ Squarepants. No wonder Meng Yao, Satan Incarnate himself, seemed like a prince compared to that asshole. The man’s voice alone made Jiang Cheng want to break his face.

“Him?” Jiang Cheng asked again, ready to storm into the room. “Did he try to play art critic back then too? To children?”

“There were many reasons why I broke up with him,” Xichen said. He grabbed Jiang Cheng’s arm. “My love, don’t. Please. I just want to go up to our room.”

Jiang Cheng hesitated. “Just one little tiny rant?” he tried.

Xichen shook his head. “Please,” he said.

And how could Jiang Cheng deny him when he asked?

He couldn’t.

But he made sure to keep his deadliest glare on his face just in case the jackass appeared before their elevator arrived.

**********

Xichen knew Brantley (though the artworld knew him as ‘Ley’) was going to be here this weekend, but he never thought they’d be staying in the same hotel. This hotel was a place of class and calm and Brantley usually avoided anything ‘traditional’ so as not to seem boring. There was no reason for him to be staying in this hotel when far trendier ones that catered to people who cared more about their image than their comfort were closer to the city center.

Xichen refused to let it put a damper on their little holiday. He was proud to be a juror this year, was always eager to see the creations of RISD’s students and alumni, and was ecstatic Jiang Cheng had been able to clear his weekend and join him. This was their suite in their hotel in a city they came back to often. He refused to let one past mistake--one that was still so clearly a horrible human being--ruin it.

Back then, Xichen had been charmed and flustered and confused. He’d never dated before then, never had someone pursue him in the ruthless way Brantley had. He’d been bowled over by him; an attractive student, a year ahead of him, who was popular in Xichen’s department. Now he could look back and see that Brantley was smart, but not clever; handsome, but not breathtaking; talented, but not extraordinary. Still, there was a time Xichen had been in awe of him.

They didn’t start off bad, but then Brantley couldn’t stand not being the best, not being the center of attention, and as Xichen grew more comfortable so far removed from his family, found his own friends, his own talent, his own sort of fame, Brantley had become mean.

It didn’t help that during one of these Craft weekends, Xichen had won an award and Brantley hadn’t.

That’s when Brantley’s words turned vicious; taunting; what used to be praised in Xichen was now mocked; what used to be desired was now derided.

It had come to a head one weekend when Uncle had visited. He’d shook Brantley’s hand and then turned to Xichen, a frown on his face. Uncle did not approve.Uncle would not agree to let Brantley visit the Lan property like he’d been asking to for so long. And that disapproval was the freedom, the signal, the excuse Xichen needed to end it.

It was amazing how much had changed in the years since. Xichen had grown into his confidence, even if he, naturally, still had self-doubts. He still disliked confrontation and tried to please everyone, but he’d found his strength.

He’d found his strength in more ways than one, and in one person in particular.

“Ready for dinner?” Jiang Cheng asked.

He wore one of Xichen’s own Lan Academy swim team shirts, the cotton old, faded, and stretched, and a pair of khaki shirts in deference to the still warm days of early Fall and the amount of walking they’d do tonight. That was another tradition of theirs: to walk the streets of downtown after dinner, lingering in the parks, enjoying their time together, before stopping off at the local grocers to buy food to stock their little kitchen here for the weekend. Every time Xichen was reminded of his first show as Zewu-jun, of them both tired and punch-drunk on that park bench, eating a horrible McDonald’s breakfast.

He wished he could somehow tell the Xichen back then that one day he would spend almost every morning waking up to that face, that he would know that smile as well as his own; that he’d get to hear that laughter whenever he wished, since it was always either a room or a phone call away. That in that moment, hours after that breakfast, he would start something that would lead him here.

To a man who loved him for his faults as well as his virtues; who respected him, praised him, supported him. To his equal. To his heart.

Xichen knew there were tears in his eyes as he looked up at Jiang Cheng now; could feel the rattle of a sob in his chest.

Jiang Cheng immediately dropped down next to him and wrapped him in his arms, soft kisses spread across his brow, the tip of his nose, his hair.

“Say the word and I’ll get him kicked out of here. I’ll buy the entire fucking hotel to do it if I have to.”

Xichen shook his head and laughed, clinging tighter to Jiang Cheng.

“I love you,” he forced out. The words he meant to say before all of it had come crashing down on him. “And thank you for loving me.”

“Thank you for letting me,” Jiang Cheng said.

He could still feel the angry tension in Jiang Cheng’s body. He knew Jiang Cheng wanted to lash out; to avenge all Xichen’s past hurts. But those past hurts were nothing, just memories, and they were nothing compared to the joy he’d found and the happy memories he’d made with Jiang Cheng.

“Room service?” Jiang Cheng asked.

“Absolutely not,” Xichen said. He gently tugged Jiang Cheng’s arms off him and sat back. “We have a reservation with our favorite restaurant and then an appointment with our favorite park bench and I refuse to let one asshole who’s never grown out of his bitterness for not being as talented as he thinks he is ruin it.”

“I still want to kick his ass,” Jiang Cheng said.

“I believe you’d have to get in line,” Xichen said.

**********

It was after their lovely dinner, relaxing walk, and too many kisses while sitting on their bench, that the confortonation finally happened. Jiang Cheng’s arms were full of their groceries, and he was propped up against the wall as they waited for their elevator to descend. It was then that they both wrinkled their noses at the smell of someone who hadn’t sprayed cologne rather than doused themselves in it.

“Oh--you’re here.”

Xichen put on his best Headmaster Lan smile to nod at Brantley. “It is alumni weekend,” he said.

“I didn’t think school principals could afford to stay at a place like this,” Brantley said. “Of course, you have your family’s money.”

Ah, so they were continuing where they’d left off then. Even after nearly twenty years.

“My inheritance is my source of income,” Xichen agreed, “so that my salary can be donated to the school to fund various scholarships and programs.”

“Not that he even needs to pull from his inheritance, considering the money his art brings in on its own,” Jiang Cheng said.

Xichen grinned at Jiang Cheng, still so casually propped up against the wall, his smile and eyes ready to kill.

“You’re not an artist,” Brantley said as he looked at Jiang Cheng, judging him by his outfit alone. “Sold prices don’t equal skill.”

“Fair enough,” Jiang Cheng said. “I’m not an artist, just an appreciator and investor.”

Brantley gave a pitying smile. “Well, my work of course is more than just basic watercolors.”

“I love watercolors,” Jiang Cheng said. “And shouldn’t one collect and create art they enjoy? Wouldn’t it be too pretentious to imply one type of art is better than another? If it’s all up to interpretation? I mean, of course everything in life must be open to criticism, but it takes a special kind of asshole to try and douse other people’s joy just to feel better about their own failings.”

Brantley didn’t take the bait and didn’t seem to realize he was a little guppy batting at a shark. “You’re an investor, you say? What’s the jewel of your collection then? Comic strips?”

Xichen didn’t know how Jiang Cheng found the control to keep his hands where they were and not slap the smug smirk off Brantley’s face. He didn’t though, just shifted the groceries and gave Xichen a wink.

“The jewel of my collection? Xichen,” Jiang Cheng automatically said. “But if we’re talking assets, I suppose it’s the Jiang Theater. I mean, my family owns some more important pieces, but those remain on permanent loan to the Museum of Fine Arts. And the Gardner. And Harvard has a couple of our pieces too, and MoMA. Always forget about MoMA. But in terms of size, I suppose it must be the Jiang Theater.”

That caught Brantley’s attention. “Oh, are you a supporter of the theater?”

“Yes,” Jiang Cheng said. “And somehow some complicated way, the owner.”

Xichen finally intervened. As much fun as this was, their ice cream was melting. “Brantley, he’s the owner and CEO of Jiang Industries.”

“You may call me Mr. Jiang,” Jiang Cheng said as the elevator doors finally opened. He walked past Brantley, rolling his eyes as the man refused to move. “Seriously?” he asked, turning to Xichen as they settled inside the elevator and the doors started to close. “Him? Really?”

“I was young and I didn’t know any better,” Xichen said. “He was my first boyfriend.”

“We both started from the shit bottom,” Jiang Cheng said. “At least there was growth and improvement.”

“Are you complimenting Meng Yao?”

“Saying he’s better than that shit stain is hardly a compliment,” Jiang Cheng said. “But, yes, if we’re being technical about it, I am.” He made a face. “That’s disgusting. Come here and kiss me and take away the trauma of it all.”

“I’ll squish the bread,” Xichen said even as he crowded Jiang Cheng into the corner.

“Somehow, I think I’ll forgive you,” Jiang Cheng said.

#long post #xicheng #untamed spring fest #verse: lahl #fic: hold me like you want me #fandom: the untamed #my ridic writing

30 notes · View notes

gotmetalkinginmysleep · 6 years ago

Text

BTS Full Set Reactions/Kink List: Porn Habits

Ask:

sweet-teeth-mfs said: BTS FULL SET Reactions/Kinks List: BTS & Porn Habits 🥴🔪🔥

Warnings: If you haven’t guessed it, this post will be discussing porn habits so will contain sexual references.

A/N: This is my first ever reactions post so I hope I do this justice. I’ve been reading from all of the blogs I know who do reactions well, so let’s put this to the test.

Let’s start with our leader.

Kim Namjoon.

He has unashamedly been open with his porn habits, including using his Dad’s ID to access such sites when he was underage (I mean who doesn’t?). And let’s be honest, there’s nothing to be ashamed of either. Porn is porn. Everyone has their own tastes or levels and therefore, everyone watches or reads it in some way.

youtube

So what would he watch? TBH, I racked my brain for a while with this one and there’s only one answer I can think of.

ANYTHING and EVERYTHING. He’s been watching it since 2nd Grade so he must have quite the collection by now. There’s only one limitation for Joon, Hentai would be a hard fap for him.

Joon likes to see everything and have an element of powerplay, so anything with a POV angle would be perfect. I think he’d watch porn from anywhere and he’d watch it at anytime or place. He would openly share his porn stash with the other members if they asked (except the personal collection he’s filmed for himself).

He’d watch it with you too, paying attention to what you liked and disliked, almost using it as research for his session with you later. Would definitely film his own stuff but from his POV so he can watch it later, making sure to keep your face out of it. Not because he wouldn’t like it, but he’d be concerned he’d accidentally saved it to the shared folder.

Joon would be more than happy to send content to you too. Once he knows what you like, he’d film for you just as much as you do for him. When sending Joon video, be sure to call his name or call him ‘Daddy’. He loves that.

Kim Seokjin.

Jin being the eldest of the group has certainly figured out a few things about what he likes and dislikes. He would’ve also figured the best way to sneak in a session without being caught out.

Jin prefers to watch in complete privacy and when at the dorm, would leave his room to use the locked bathroom instead. He’d also take his headphones to ensure he could hear the moans. He’s very visual (and if into women) definitely a breast man. They don’t need to be massive, just feature a lot and although 99.9% of men love a cum shot to the face, I think Jin would prefer one to the tits.

He also prefers to watch something from the DOMs angle. Not pain or abusive in any way, but something that demonstrates a more domineering side that he can relate to. He wants the other person to succumb to his charms and his porn would need to do the same.

Jin wouldn’t film with you but would ask for some Facetime while he was away, specifically so he could see your face and the shapes it would make when you cum.

Min Yoongi.

Yoongi would normally be typecast into some really dark stuff. However, I gave this some more thought as there’s more than meets the eye.

Yoongi loves sound and would ask you to send recordings he could listen to while in the Genius Studio. But don’t fake it, he would know and hates overelaborate screamy ‘porn sex’. It would be a rare opportunity for him to watch videos so ASMR is perfect for him. Just playing it on his headphones and everyone would fully believe he’s working on something.

When it comes to visuals, he would definitely prefer to have videos sent to him than searching online. However, he’d have a personal stash that he’s filmed when you’ve been together of his hands and tongue doing things to you. He’d actually send these to you along with a message like, “wishing I could do this to you right now”.

Yoongi would purposefully film with you for when he’s away, ensuring he’s got you spread and shining over his cock or taking you from behind so he’s got your ass in shot.

He NEEDS to see and hear everything so when you send him a picture or a quick video of you playing with the toy he bought you, make sure to spread for him showing how wet you are and display your slick covered fingers to the camera. Also, tell him how much you need him instead of your fingers or toy.

Jung Hoseok.

Did someone call for Daddy? Yes, Hobi loves his stash but actually prefers to find something new each time. He’s very open to new things and would probably try everything once, but as soon as he sees something he doesn’t like, he’ll find something from his collection.

He’s definitely a curves man, would prefer to watch something with more movement and rhythm. The person at the centre of all of this would need to have a sexy vibe more than a distinct feature. Would totally follow the same porn star once he found one he liked and would watch anything from that person, even the masturbation films, which are probably his favourite.

But there’s one very important factor. Unlike most guys, Hobi doesn’t like cumshots. He would much prefer to watch someone take a load in their mouth, display and swallow so he can see it slide down their throat. Therefore, would totally film you sucking him off to watch back later.

If you’re sending him something while away, he would love to watch you get off. Use your toys, get the suction cup to stick it to the floor and play for the camera Bish. He’d want to see you wind and grind on that thing.

Park Jimin.

Ok, this one was fun because most of the web sees Jimin as this cute little angel (Which he is... sometimes) but he totally isn’t 100% angel. His dirty mind could write some serious fanfics which brings me onto his porn.

Jimin likes to be able to relate to real couples and would most likely read erotica so he can imagine everything in his head. Most likely to frequent Wattpad and AO3 on a regular basis. He’s not into anything overly romanticised, he’d be more 50 Shades than Mills and Boon, but when it comes to visuals, he prefers homemade content with real couples. Not just any old homemade content, he’s looking for the gagged and bound section for when his inner DOM needs power.

As a result, he would totally film his own DOM stuff and not just with his mobile phone in hand. He’d have it on the bedside table or at the end of the bed so he can go hands-free, slapping your ass or pulling on your leash throughout. Jimin would want your cum face in full view so he can recall the feeling of you tight around him. He’d even edit the sections together so he’d have snippets he can refer back to rather than the whole session.

When it comes to sending Jimin something to take a load off, send him a masturbation video praising him to the ends of the Earth when he’s feeling DOM. Tell him how good he feels and how your fingers aren’t enough.

For is inner SUB, you need your ASMR skills because he wants to be hands-free. Record some audio for him to listen through his headphones, moan for him but with stern instructions, tell him he’s been bad (or good) and when he’s allowed to cum. It’ll keep him going for days.

Kim Taehyung.

*Cracks fingers* - KIM TAEHYUNG … *tsk tsk tsk* - where do I even begin with him? Shall we start from the light to the dark?

Tae needs some plot. A little bit of backstory. I’m not saying he’s after something like overly romanticised, but something a bit “Eyes Wide Shut” or “Secretary” would totally shuttle his cock. Would regularly watch international porn so he can get lost in the language, especially French or Portuguese which sounds erotic in its own right. Anything that includes plenty of foreplay and shows the main character writhing to meet hip to hip gets him going.

Oh, why did I say “Secretary”, yes, because Tae likes it dirty and would be open to the more quirky aspects of porn. Powerplay to the point she pisses at the desk? Yes, total turn on. It’s not the physical act, it is the meaning behind it. The power that’s portrayed in the DOM and the loyal submission that’s apparent from her. So whether he’s watching anime or something dark, don’t just take it at face value.

Tae would be open to filming yourselves if you are. He’d get really into the role, discussing boundaries and buying something special for the main event. He’d even set up the room with lighting and get you in the mood beforehand, so it’ll feel very art house. You’d both watch it together and alone, but he’d love to sext you on the regular while away.

Jeon Jungkook.

Be warned. To me, Gguk is a little Antonie de Caunes (search Eurotrash TV Show if you don’t know who that is) so this is going to be a little bit fun!

Jungkook idolises Joon, so I think he’d totally steal his stash on the regular. Sheepily asking, “got anything new?” when the hard drive is shared for his alone time. Loves everything and tries everything once. If he likes it, he’d want to try it out too. It’s actually easier to recall what he doesn’t like, which is nothing!

Seriously nothing is out of bounds for him. Girl on girl action, hell yes! Big titties? *motorboats* Anime, yeah why not? Fake taxi? Yeah, sure. We’re talking full on cheese, but interestingly, he’d watch this with Tae and Jimin for fun and not to get off. It would be like watching their own version of Eurotrash!

However, when it gets a little too much for everyone, they’d slink off separately and get the good stuff.

Gguk would find the masturbation videos to watch on his own and he’d prefer these than anything else. However, he does like to film his own POV when he’s with you. He is GCF of course.

He’d film when he’s both DOM and SUB but most importantly would want a new film every time he goes away. He’d film you riding his cock when you’re on top, your hands on his chest as you whip your head back all while he’s calling you Noona. But, he’d also film when you’re spread beneath him, begging to be taken by Daddy.

#BTS Reactions #btssmutclub #BTS Kink List #Totally my opinon #I'm new to this #BTS imagines #BTS #BTS smut #reactions #Bangtan

358 notes · View notes

saveyourblood · 5 years ago

Text

Stolen Dance | Ch. 4

Summary: “Maybe this was a pipe dream, a delusion you’d soon awake from or a phase you’d outgrow. You didn’t really care. For a brief moment in time, you were in love. That’s what you chose to care about. That what you made matter.”

The one where you’re a paramedic, he’s an FBI agent, and the time you spend together is borrowed.

Notes: If I ever stop updating here on tumblr, you can finish the rest of this story over on my AO3.

Word Count: 4.7k

Song: Cinnamon — Jome

Warnings: mentions of blood and self harm, past trauma, regular CM warnings.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

_____________________

Eventually, you convinced Angel to move to the bed. You sat in the armchair while he sat on the edge of the bed, and overall, he seemed more comfortable. His legs were no longer close to his chest, and his body language expressed a certain amount of security. He wasn’t curled up into a ball, tucked away in the corner. Other than the fact that he had yet to speak, it was as if the two of you were having a normal, healthy discussion.

“There you go, bring it over,” you praised as Angel rolled the coin across his fingers. “You’re pretty good, Angel.”

He smiled, and you returned the expression.

“You should see my friend Spencer do coin tricks,” you continued as Angel started to roll the quarter over his fingers. “He’s basically a magician.”

The door opened. You looked over your shoulder to see Angel’s doctor and a nurse enter.

“Hey Angel, the doctor’s here,” you said. “Do you want me to stay?”

The smile on his face faded, but he shook his head ‘no’.

“Okay. I’ll be right outside,” you told him before dismissing yourself from the room.

Spencer was waiting right outside the door for you.

“Hey,” he greeted, smiling warmly. “How’s it going in there?”

“As well as one can hope,” you said. “What about you? Has Garcia figured anything out yet?”

“She found the contact information for Angel’s mother,” Spencer replied. “Local law enforcement called; she said she’d be here soon.”

“That’s good,” you nodded.

“Really think so?”

You let out a breath. “It will be, eventually. I hope.”

“I’ll go get us some coffee,” Spencer offered. “Sit down, take a break.”

You grinned, wanting nothing more than to kiss or at least hug him. But you had a job to do, both of you. Blurring the lines at work, even in private, could be detrimental. So instead of kissing or hugging him, you bumped your shoulder against his.

“A coffee sounds amazing.”

“So far, Samantha Allen is our best lead,” Spencer said, taking a sip of his coffee. “She’s the woman that came into the police station and said she saw a boy in chains when she was a child.”

The two of you sat in the floor’s lounge, taking a break while the doctor looked over Angel.

“Jesus,” you muttered. “So her father is the suspect?”

Spencer nodded. “Emily helped her recover a few memories. They’re going to see if he gives her access to the basement.”

“Hopefully they find something,” you said. “Otherwise… we’re back at square one.”

You tapped the edge of your coffee cup, pursing your lips.

“What’s wrong?” Spencer asked softly.

“Do you think Angel blames himself?” You said.

Spencer briefly raised an eyebrow. “I did.”

You stopped mid-drink. “What?”

“When I was captured,” Spencer said. “I blamed myself.”

“When were you captured?” You asked, setting your coffee aside. It no longer seemed interesting.

“A case we were working on a few years ago,” he replied. “A man named Tobias Hankel kidnapped me after JJ and I split up to search his property.”

“You never told me that,” you whispered. You could feel your heart slowly fracture and shatter.

He laughed sadly. “It never came up.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” you promised, taking his hand. Rules, courtesy, professionalism be damned. “Whatever he did, it wasn’t your fault. And if you ever want to talk about it, I’m here.”

He squeezed your hand. “I know.”

Slowly, gradually, naturally, you let your grip falter until your hand was back in your lap.

You looked up to see the doctor walking in the hallway. Frowning, you stood up and rushed over.

“Hey, Doc?” you asked, catching up. “Am I good to go in?”

He nodded. “If you want.”

You pressed the button to the door, stepping in after it automatically slid open.

Angel now had his back turned to the door, hunched over.

“Angel?” you asked curiously. “What’s going on, hon?”

He let out a small noise. You heard a soft, unmistakable sound: drops of blood hitting the floor.

“Angel!” you shouted, rushing over. He shouted as well, but in agony, both physically and mentally. It broke your heart. “Angel, stop!”

Once reaching the bed, you grabbed both of his arms by the elbow and pulled them backwards. You didn’t stop pulling until his back was against your chest. You heard Spencer enter the room.

“Spence, the call button,” you said, still holding Angel in a death grip.

Spencer scrambled to the remote on the bed, pressing the call button multiple times. Then, he came around the bed and got rid of the needle.

“Get a towel,” you said, nodding towards the bin of supplies on the tray. “Get it on his wrist and apply pressure.”

From your quick visual inspection, Angel didn’t appear to hit any arteries or break any veins. His handiwork was messy, but shallow.

“You’re okay,” you promised Angel, moving one arm across his shoulders and the other to his hair. “You’re safe, Angel. You’re okay.”

You stayed and watched as the doctor cleaned and examined the cuts. Angel managed to get a few good jabs in, but nothing would need stitches. He applied a few butterfly closures over the deeper cuts before putting gauze over Angel’s entire wrist and wrapping it in medical tape.

You managed to convince Angel to not only let the doctor work on him, but to also allow him to administer a sedative and put an oxygen cannula in his nose. After awhile, the sedative kicked in and Angel fell asleep. You draped a few blankets over him and took a seat next to the bed.

You sat and watched him sleep for a bit, unsure what to make of it. It was strange to see a boy that was constantly on edge let his guard down completely. Rather than dwelling on it, though, you stood up, walked out of the room, and came back with a bowl of water and some towels.

You started by washing his legs. You didn’t want to scare him off with any foreign smells, so you used only a cloth wet with water to clean his skin. Still, a decent amount of dirt came off. You had to change the water twice before moving past his legs.

You cleaned only the skin you could see, making sure to not compromise his privacy nor his security blanket. He would stay in his clothes as long as he liked, and no one would tell him otherwise. If it was something he wanted to hold onto, you wouldn’t let anyone take that away.

You washed from his face, down his arms, and to his hands. You scraped the dirt from under his nails gently, knowing the only way to get rid of the grime was a trim. For now, this would have to do.

You set the soiled rag in your basin of cloudy water, moving to dump it into the skin. Once you pulled away from the bed, though, Angel grabbed your hand. You turned back to see his small, bony fingers wrapped over your palm. You took his grasp, running your thumb against the back of his hand.

“I’m right here, Angel,” you told him, returning to the chair by the bed. You pulled it closer, until your knees pressed against the frame. “I’m not going anywhere.”

You eventually got up to stretch your legs, and you ended up standing by the windowsill. Absentmindedly, you played with the dog tags hanging around your neck. It had been years since you wore regularly wore them, yet you hadn’t taken them off since your drive to Virginia. You felt like you had no reason to take them off yet.

You noticed Angel staring at you.

“Do you know what these are, Angel?” you asked.

He shook his head.

You approached the bed again. “They’re called dog tags,” you told him. “Soldiers wear them when they go into war. The idea was, if a soldier was injured or died on the battlefield, a comrade would take one of the tags off and bring it to their commander. The other is left on their body for easier identification.”

You took a seat next to the bed.

“You went to war?”

You looked up in shock, eyes wide. Angel chuckled, and you did as well.

“I did,” you said. “I went to war, and it changed me forever. Just like what you through: it changed you. Angel, the man who took you took another boy. We need to find him. Can you help us?”

Angel turned his head towards the window.

You closed your eyes, accepting the minor defeat. Eventually, though, you reached up and took of your dog tags.

“Angel?” you asked.

He turned to look at you.

You held out the tags by the chain they hung on. “I want you to have these. They reminded me that, no matter what happened, I was a soldier. I was a survivor.”

Angel reached up, taking the tags into his palm. You moved your hand down to clasp his.

“I don’t know the names of the men that hurt me,” you said quietly. “I was young, in a country I didn’t know. They spoke a language I didn’t understand. They hurt me, Angel, but the pain didn’t stop when they did. I did things like that to myself,” you told him, pointing to his wrist. “I thought that if I was supposed to be in constant pain, I should be the one to cause it, and if I died, so what? The pain would be over. But you know what, Angel? The pain wouldn’t be over. If I died, they would win. No fucking way do they get that. After everything they put me through, they don’t get to win.”

You held his hand harder. “I want the man who hurt you to pay. I want to take away the one thing he values — freedom. But most importantly, I want to make sure no more little boys have to go through what you did. I want you to win. Can you help me?”

He nodded.

Someone stepped into the room. You turned around to see Spencer holding a tablet to his chest. He pointed it outwards so Angel could see.

“Do any of these men look familiar?” Spencer asked.

Angel studied the four available pictures for a moment. After some consideration, he shook his head. “It was always too dark. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” you said quickly. “Don’t be sorry.”

You stepped out to get some fresh air, asking a nurse to take your place for a few minutes. Arizona’s heat was dry, so if you stayed in the shade, the breeze felt good.

“You never told me,” Spencer said from behind you.

You turned around quickly upon hearing a disturbance, but relaxed when it was only him. “Never told you what?”

“That you were captured.”

“Oh, I wasn’t,” you replied simply, turning back around.

“You weren’t?” He asked, appearing by your side.

“Empathy is one hell of a persuader,” you shrugged. “I figured if Angel thought I knew how he felt, he’d feel comfortable enough to confide in me.”

“It’s dangerous to make up stories like that,” Spencer stated. His tone sounded neutral. “If you got caught in a lie, it could ruin not only the Bureau’s reputation, but in this case, the US Army’s reputation.”

“I’m sorry?”

“If a former soldier were to lie about being captured and tortured while deployed, they could face jail time,” Spencer said. “But, if the Army failed to secure a situation, and a combat medic was captured and tortured for information she didn’t have, it could ruin their reputation.”

Your face went blank. “What are you trying to say, Spencer?”

“I’m saying, if you ever want to talk, I’m here.”

Spencer walked back into the hospital, leaving you alone to gather your thoughts.

_____________________

It turned out that J.B. Allen, Sam Allen’s father, gave her trophies after a boy from Arizona disappeared. Considering her dad’s behavior when she was growing up, along with her recovered memories, it was hard to accept that as a coincidence. The team raided his house, and after some redirection from Sam, they found Allen attempting to bury Billy Henderson alive. Overall, the case was considered a success.

“Good work everyone,” Hotch praised as the team filtered back into the office. “Go home, get some sleep. I’ll see you back here tomorrow.”

There was an onslaught of tired goodnights. You, however, said nothing as Hotch climbed the stairs and retreated into his office.

“Are you hungry?” Spencer asked you. “There’s a restaurant downtown open 24/7. They make amazing egg rolls.”

“Can I take a raincheck?” you replied. “There’s something I have to take care of.”

“...sure,” Spencer answered. His answer was neutral, but his face told a different story.

“I could go for some late night Chinese,” Emily chimed in. “What about you, Derek?”

Apparently, you and Spencer were doing an okay job of concealing your relationship.

“Count me in,” Derek replied. “JJ?”

“I’ve got my boys waiting for me at home,” JJ said. “Next time.”

“Alright,” Derek said. He then looked at you. “Catch up with you later?”

You nodded, forcing a smile on your face. “Absolutely.”

Derek grinned, then threw an arm around Spencer’s shoulders. “Alright, pretty boy: show us the way.”

You began to ascend the staircase. You could feel Spencer take one last glance at you before he left with Emily and Derek. You chose not to turn around.

When you got to Hotch’s office, you knocked on the already open door.

“Y/N,” he stated, which you supposed was his idea of a greeting. “What can I do for you?”

“Why did you assign me to this case?” You asked.

“Because it’s your job,” he stated plainly.

“It’s my job to be a paramedic,” you said. “So why is it that, when you went to recover Billy Henderson, I was in a hospital room rather than on the field?”

“Billy was in no immediate medical danger,” Hotch said. “You wouldn’t have been useful on the field.”

“You didn’t know if he would need help or not,” you countered. “Him being physically okay had nothing to do with the profile, with Allen, with… anything other than luck, really.”

Hotch stood up a bit straighter. “Is there something you’re trying to say, Y/N?”

You ran your hand down your face. Every instinct in your body was screaming at you, telling you to go with your gut and call him out. Your anxiety, however, warned you that, if you were wrong, you should kiss your job goodbye.

You were a good soldier. So, you stuck with your guns.

“The US Government does an amazing job of covering its tracks,” you said. “I mean, sometimes, things fall through the cracks, but for the most part, what the government wants hidden, stays hidden. Project MKUltra, Camp Hero… no one knew until the government wanted them to know.”

“What’s your point?”

“My point is that you know something happened to me in Syria,” you said quietly. “You just don’t know the details. You know that, halfway through my tour, I was honorably discharged, and a small fortune appeared in my bank account. But no matter how much digging Garcia does, she can’t seem to come up with any answers.”

Hotch didn’t respond; he merely stared at you.

“Like I said: the government can cover its tracks,” you repeated. “Honestly, Agent Hotchner, I don’t care that you know. I don’t care that Garcia knows. I don’t care if you’ve made theories of what happened. All I care about is one thing: what do you want from me? Because after today, it doesn’t seem like I’m here to be a paramedic.”

Hotch took a seat at his desk. He gestured for you to sit across from him. Slowly, you entered the room and did just that.

“I’ve known about your sudden discharge since before you were hired,” Hotch told you. “I reached out to several of your superiors to ask what happened and if it would affect your abilities. None of them disclosed what happened to you, but they all said the same thing: they’d take a bullet for you, but you’d take one for them first. They said no matter who you treated, you treated them with care. You managed to get along with everyone, even on the few occasions you had to treat enemy soldiers.”

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

Hotch leaned forward. “I don’t care about what happened to you, Y/N, but I do care about this team. So let me ask you this: will the reason you got discharged ever negatively affect the BAU in any way?”

You immediately shook your head. “It’s done and over with.”

“Then all I hope for is your success. I hope to see not only your skillset as a paramedic grow, but I hope you can eventually be hired as an SSA, maybe even as a profiler.”

“Then what’s up with all of this?” you asked, tugging at your t-shirt. It was a lighthearted break from the conversation, but you were also curious.

Hotch scoffed with a smile. “That would be the work of Erin Strauss,” Hotch said, confirming your suspicions. “She and the Director were hesitant in hiring you. They wanted to get the point across that were to help this team only as medical personnel.”

“Neither of them know what you assigned me to today, do they?” You inquired.

“Like you said: you spent the day in the hospital,” Hotch said. “That’s as medical as it gets, don’t you agree?”

You laughed softly. “Can’t argue with that.”

Hotch smiled smally. “Go home, Y/N. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Yes sir,” you said, then stood up and walked to the door. “Hotch?” you said before leaving.

“Yes?”

“Thanks.”

_____________________

“Best Doctor?”

You licked your ice cream. “10, obviously.”

“Have you seen any episodes of the original series?” Spencer asked.

“They’re not on Netflix,” you replied.

“Have you heard of a library?”

“Don’t get smart with me, you nerd!” you laughed, swatting his arm. “You should just be glad I’m into weird shit.”

The two of you were walking down a busy street that was lined with booths. Autumn was approaching, and apparently, Virginians took the season very seriously. It was only the end of September, yet there were already some fall festivals popping up. You invited Spencer to one that was close to campus.

“No one else on the team watches Doctor Who,” Spencer ceded. He took a lick from his own cone.

“Exactly,” you agreed. “I watched it a lot after my dad died — it felt like every time I watched an episode, The Doctor swooped in and took me away from my troubles, at least for a little while.”

“I watched the original series with my mother growing up,” Spencer said. “We’d watch the American premiere times when she remembered.”

You smiled and stopped walking. You reached your free arm up and set it on his shoulder. “I guess we’re meant to be,” you said sweetly.

“I suppose so,” he agreed with a smile.

Spencer leaned in for a kiss. You took it as an opportunity to lick his ice cream cone.

“Oh, that is so unfair,” He laughed.

“What is that, maple nut?” you asked, licking your lips. “It’s good.”

When you tried to pull away, Spencer slid a few fingers under the waistband of your jeans and pulled you back to him.

“Spencer!” You practically yelped. He’d never done something so bold, especially in public.

“What?” he asked innocently. Then, he took a lick from your cone. He let you go, a shit-eating grin on his face. “We’re even.”

“Far from it,” you laughed. Still, you wrapped an arm around his waist.

Spencer pulled you against his side, kissing the top of your head.

The two of you walked around for awhile, taking in the scenery and the other’s presence. You’d enjoyed the cases you worked on in the last couple of weeks, but you had to admit, nothing beat the alone time you spent with Spencer. Working with him was both humbling and enjoyable, yet the time you spent in his company and no one else’s was priceless.

You wondered if you’d ever be able to fully convey that to him.

“Didn’t you give Angel your dog tags?” Spencer asked.

You instinctively reached up and began to play with the tags around your neck. “I gave him the set I kept in my jeep.”

“Why do you wear them?” He asked, this time, more gently.

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “They make me feel… safe, I guess.”

“Well, in that case…” Spencer said, pulling you closer, “...I hope one day, you stop wearing them.”

You smiled softly, sadly. “Me too.”

You had a feeling that day wouldn’t come for awhile.

_____________________

In the middle of your psych class, you got a 911 text from Hotch saying you needed to come in right away. Ever since taking the job, you left your phone at least on vibrate and checked every single message or notification you received. Your professors and classmates probably found it obsessive and/or annoying, but that didn’t matter to you.

You stood up, quickly packing your materials into your backpack before slipping it on.

“Miss… Y/N,” the professor said, taking a moment to remember your name. With probably 100 students in the class, you couldn’t blame him. Regardless of your name, he seemed far from pleased with you at the moment. “Is there somewhere more important you should be right now?”

“Actually, yes,” you replied bluntly. You walked behind the table and down the stairs. You were out the door before your professor could say anything else.

“Sorry I’m late,” you apologized as you entered the briefing room. You had to swing by your apartment to swap out your school bag for your go bag and change into your uniform. You still felt a little stupid in both your t-shirt and bomber jacket, but you figured eventually, you’d get used to it. “I was at school.”

“It’s your off day,” Hotch responded, which was as close to an ‘it’s fine’ as you were going to get.

“What’s going on?” Morgan asked.

“There was a child abduction in the Potomac Mills Mall,” Hotch said, passing out files. “The circumstances are eerily similar to an abduction exactly one week ago — the same type of girl was taken at the same time in the same place.”

“Did they find her?” you asked, opening your file.

“They found her remains.”

“So we could have a serial killer on our hands,” Emily said.

“We’re looking for a pattern,” Hotch said instead. “We’ll finish briefing in the car; Garcia, take what you need from your office. Y/L/N, swap your go bag out for a medi one.”

“Yes sir,” the two of you replied simultaneously.

One silver lining to joining the BAU? Even lecture days were exciting.

“What makes you sure Katie Jacobs is still In the building?”

“The mall's got cameras installed at every entrance and exit. Surveillance video confirms Katie entering the building, but no sign of her leaving.”

The mall had been in complete lockdown for almost 20 minutes, and already, everyone looked panicked.

“Whoever killed Jessica Davis last week left that mall with her because he wanted time with his victim in privacy. Assuming it's the same offender, he wouldn't stray From his m.o.,” Spencer said.

“So if Katie is still under this roof, so is her abductor,” JJ agreed.

“Garcia, report to the mall’s security office. Reid, Morgan, Y/L/N, find the head of security: we need all data from every search team,” he instructed.

The three of you broke off to find security staff that could point you in the right direction.

“117 stores, 69 storage closets, 73 dressing rooms, 6 men’s rooms, 6 ladies’ rooms, access to the roof via the north and south stairwell, 7 restaurants — each with a separate kitchen —, and 4 elevators,” the head of security said. She pointed to each on the map, which was spread onto a table the 4 of you surrounded.

“Every team is going to need a copy of this,” Derek said.

After scanning the blueprints and printing countless copies, officers began to hand them around. Meanwhile, Derek and Spencer studied the original plan.

“Well, aside from the stairwells, storage closets, and hundreds of shops, there's a whole underbelly beneath our feet — Subterranean level, Air ducts, boiler rooms,” Derek said.

“Realistically, it’ll take at least… 3 hours to cover this place,” the head of security said.

“Realistically, we have less than half that time,” Derek countered.

“How do you figure?” She frowned.

“99% of abducted children who are killed die within the first 24 hours, 75% within the first 3 hours, and when law enforcement knows, Jessica Davis joined the 44% of children who are abducted and killed within the first hour,” Spencer explained.

Derek’s phone rang. “Yeah, what do you got?” He asked before stepping away.

You tugged Spencer’s sleeve. He followed you when you stepped away from the table.

“You think she has a shot?” You asked in a low voice.

For the first time since you met him, Spencer Reid was speechless.

“Your tech analyst found Katie’s last known location,” the head of security interjected.

“Take us there,” you replied instantly.

“So she and her cousin came in here about 30 minutes ago, and that was the last time anyone saw Katie?” Spencer asked, stepping into the arcade. You and Derek followed.

“That’s right,” the head of security confirmed.

“10 minutes after the assault is generally the molester’s lowest point of self-esteem,” Spencer stated.

“He could he panicking right now, realizing he left a witness,” Derek added.

“Richard Allen Davis strangled Polly Klaas just to prevent her from identifying him.”

“That’s… grim,” you muttered under your breath.

A single abduction like this would normally be classified as a snatch-and-grab, but with the Jessica Davis abduction, It's more likely we're dealing with a preferential offender,” Derek said.

“Whose victims fall into a particular type,” Spencer agreed. “He came to this mall knowing what he was looking for, because he feels safe here, familiar with his surroundings.”

“If this was some normal guy, we’d have found Katie by now,” you thought aloud. “The UnSub is hiding her, and it has to be somewhere no one would think to look.”

“Only former and current employees would have knowledge that intimate,” Spencer stated.

You nodded. “Exactly.”

“We need to talk to her cousin,” Derek said.

You pulled a chair out, taking a seat Jeremy, Katie’s cousin.

“Hi, Jeremy,” you said warmly. “I’m Y/N. I asked your parents if me and my friends could speak to you privately. Is that okay?”

“My dad thinks it’s my fault,” Jeremy said, obviously upset.

“No, he doesn’t,” you promised. “When people are in stressful situations like this, they say things they don’t really mean.”

Derek leaned forward. “Hey, kid.”

Jeremy looked up.

“The moments right before a kidnapping like this are the most important,” Derek told him. “You’ve got to understand you’re the only one who can help us with that.”

“But I… I can’t remember.”

“Jeremy,” Spencer said, voice gentle, “all we need is the last thing Katie said or did before you realized she was gone.”

He began to shake his head. The movement started slow, but as Jeremy’s breaths grew shorter, the shaking quickened.

“Jeremy?” Derek asked. “What’s going on?”

Jeremy stood up, but his posture was slouched. He tried grabbing for his chest. “Can’t… breathe…”

“He’s having a panic attack,” you said, standing up. You set a hand on his shoulder. “Sit down, honey. You’re okay.”

Slowly and shakily, he listened. You crouched down beside him once he was in the chair.

“Put your head between your legs,” you instructed in a soft, calm voice. You took one of his hands and set the other on his neck.

Once again, Jeremy slowly but surely listened to you. You patted the back of his head, assuring him you were there and that he was safe.

You looked between Spencer and Derek. Whatever Jeremy saw, he didn’t want to remember.

_____________________

Notes: Let me know what you think! Comments keep me motivated to write xo

#stolen dance #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid/reader #criminal minds reader insert #criminal minds imagine #stolen dance part 4

112 notes · View notes