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mary-is-writing · 11 months ago

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@writeblrcafe Secret Santa 2023🎅🎁

Thank you for organizing this event! This is my gift for @sparrow-orion-writes , I hope you like this short story!! Sorry it took me so long, I wanted to finish by Christmas but life happened. Still, here it is, a coffee shop kinda enemies-to-lovers with a fantasy setting story. Happy holidays and happy new year!!!

Title: Snakes and Vines

Word count: 2409

CW: None

Something was burning and it wasn’t Eri’s fault.

She could’ve sworn she hadn’t left the oven unattended for that long. She simply went to decorate as many cookies as she could while the cupcakes finished baking, and then, she was planning on going back and multitask on decorating both to finish earlier. But it seemed that hellfire powder, though a quick rising agent, was more flammable than she thought, since the whole oven went up in flames with a kaboom that could be heard from every place in the shop.

The bits and pieces went flying, destroying most of the kitchen as well as whatever pastries were lying around. The good news was that nothing hit her and the coffee shop was empty since it was already late; the bad news was that the destruction reached even the tables and chairs that were farthest from the kitchen. The worse news was that her boss was already stomping his big combat boots towards her direction while yelling and cursing all heaven and hell, and there was no way for her to fix it before he opened the kitchen door. The terrible news was that the fire was spreading quickly through the wall.

And the worst, most absolute, horrible news was that a bunch of cookie-frosting and burnt cupcake had flown right into Amalia’s face, of all the demons in Obertham. However, as established earlier, this was not Eri’s fault.

“This is your fault!”, she quickly yelled at her, while Amalia tried to clean her face.

“WHAT?! How the fuck this is my fault?!” Amalia’s snake hair hissed back at her.

“You kept messing with the oven when I told you to leave it alone!” Eri answered, vines with thorns quickly growing around her.

“YOU’RE the one that added the stupid hellfire powder even though I told you not to!”

“And I wouldn’t have needed to bake another batch quickly five minutes before going home if you knew how to bake shit!”

“The only reason I have to bake is because of your slow ass that doesn’t get anything done! At least I know how to prepare coffee while working in a coffee shop.”

“You’re just a–”

“WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO TO MY KITCHEN?!”

Their boss entered, his screech giving off a freezing gust of wind so cold it immediately put down the fire. Then, after giving a quick look to the damage and the two, proceeded to freeze them in place so he could lecture them both for about half an hour, all the while letting his rage take control of his ice and making them feel like they were in a freezer. Eri didn’t like working for an ice demon; whether he was happy or angry (especially when angry) he was always surrounded by the cold. The whole “enjoying a warm coffee in a chilly environment” was part of the shop’s charm, but a dryad like her would never understand why anyone would like that. Still, she needed this job, so she had to suck it while trying to not freeze to death.

But getting yelled at was unfair. Sure, maybe she had added a tiny bit more of hellfire powder than she should have, but if Amalia hadn’t been messing with the oven, the settings would’ve been the correct ones and it wouldn’t have exploded. Nothing her boss would listen to, though, and she found herself being ordered to stay overnight, clean the whole mess and re–bake everything to be ready for tomorrow.

Alongside Amalia, because of course. And at that hour, it was only natural for their tasks to extend into ungodly hours of the night, so of course they had to spend it there. There was a sleeping room, destined to be used by employees in times where the shop had to remain open for days straight, like in the Festival of Light, so they could take turns sleeping and working during their shifts. Eri was glad that she at least wouldn’t have to sleep on the floor.

There was only one bed. Because of course.

“I’ll take the floor”, she said with a groan.

“No, I’ll take it”, Amalia said. “You take the bed. Just give me some sheets or something.”

“I said I’ll take it”, Eri responded dry. “It’s gonna be colder than usual thanks to the boss’s fit, and that’s bad for a snake demon like you.”

“Said the dryad, the cold is just as bad for you. Besides, I’m younger, so it’s better if I take the floor.”

“I’m sorry, did you just call me old?”

“Oh, for the love of–” Amalia ran a hand over her face. Some of her snakes hissed in frustration at her, and Eri almost wanted to hiss back. “Just take the goddamn bed, Eri.”

“No”, she crossed her arms. “After all, it’s the responsibility of the older ones to take care of the children. So, you take it.”

“Fine, I guess nobody is sleeping in the bed, then. We’ll both sleep on the floor.”

Eri was used to fight with Amalia at this point, so much so that she didn’t even think to contradict her just for the sake of it. Forest will wither and oceans will dry before she’d let her win an argument.

“If that’s the case, why don’t we both sleep in the bed, then?”, she said, only realizing what words had left her mouth afterwards.

“Fine! Geez! Have it your way then!”

“Fine.”

After a couple more “fines” that we’re said in a very “fuck you” kind of way, they both climbed in the bed. Amelia took the side closest to the wall, while Eri the side towards the door. There was also just one sheet and pillow, so they had to sleep back-to-back without moving an inch.

What a night. Eri couldn’t remember a worse one since she started working there…though having to carry around her tree in a pot in the middle of a cold night after getting evicted was a close one. Now what? She hoped the boss wouldn’t fire her for this. Without a job, one cannot survive in Obertham, not only because it was required for non-humans to have one in order to remain in the city, but also because it was expensive as hell and almost no landlord would give her a lease without one. Feeling the physical exhaustion and the mental stress growing got to her and, ever so softly, she sniffed a few tears away.

“I’m sorry.” Hearing Amalia apologize shot Eri wide awake.

“What did you just said?”, she asked, still not facing her. Amalia sighed, in a way Eri’d never heard before.

“You’re right. I shouldn’t have messed with the oven. I thought that, if you weren’t gonna listen about the hellfire powder, at least I could prevent the oven from exploding by changing the settings, but…”

“Wow. You literally couldn’t have done a worse job.”

“Yeah. So. Well. I’ll tell the boss tomorrow to not punish you too much more for it.”

That was…weird. Was Amalia actually…being reasonable? As Eri was trying to wrap her head around this situation, a thought crossed her mind.

“You heard me cry, didn’t you”, she asked, monotone.

“…No.”

“Okay. Yeah. That’s not gonna fly.”

“I just thought you…could use a win.”

“Wow. Thanks.” Sarcasm dripped from her lips. And it must have been really bitter because Amalia immediately stood up.

“Why do you hate me, Eri? What have I ever done to you?”

“You mean besides destroying the kitchen, almost killing me, and jeopardizing my livelihood?”

“But you didn’t start hating me now, did you?” Even in the darkness, Eri could see the silhouette of the snakes in Amalia’s head squirming because of how agitated she was.

“I don’t hate you.” She answered. “I just don’t like you.”

“What’s the difference?”

“If I hated you, you’d be seeing me with thorns all around me all day long, since I have to be all day long next to you.”

“Okay, fine. Why do you dislike me, then?”

Maybe it was the tiredness. Maybe it was that they were completely alone, in the darkness, and she couldn’t see Amalia’s face. For whatever reason, Eri felt like spilling her guts.

“Because you’re arrogant, despite only knowing how to brew coffee. And you are terrible at baking, yet you act like you’re in charge of the kitchen. And you’re younger than me, yet ever since you first came you’ve had this attitude of ‘why do I have to work with this useless adult?’. And even though I need this job to survive, you act like just being here is a bother and couldn’t care less of what happens to it or me.”

The silence that proceeded was as cold as the floor, and as the seconds passed and Eri regained her composure, she started to wonder if she’d said too much. But then, Amalia talked.

“What about you, then? Ever since I came here, you’ve treated me with nothing but hostility. You just assumed whatever you wanted about me and decided that you didn’t like me. I’ll admit I’m bad at baking, and I hate it, but if I didn’t care about this job, I would simply get another one. Saying that I don’t care about what happens to it or you is honestly insulting. You think I’m that heartless just cause I’m a demon?”

“Of course not. You think I’m nice and delicate just cause I’m a dryad?”

“A rabid hellhound is nicer and more delicate than you.”

Eri let out a sound that was a mix of scoff and laughter. Still laying on the bed, she breathed deeply.

“I’m sorry, too. For, you know… Antagonizing you, and stuff.” It felt awkward. When was the last time she’d talked with her without feeling a headache? Scratch that; Eri didn’t even think she’d ever had this calm of a conversation with Amalia, ever. “But don’t you think it’d be better if you showed you care more?”

“Well, don’t you think it’d be better if you learned how to serve a cup?” She said, playfully.

“Why? Your coffee is great, I don’t need to learn.”

Amalia blinked. Some of her snakes looked at each other.

“You…like my coffee?” Eri felt wide awake for the second time. Crap, she hadn’t meant to say it. “You’ve…never said so…”

“Because I didn’t want it to get into your big head”, she said, then instantly regretted it. “Yeah, I like your coffee. It’s good coffee. Great, even. I don’t know how you do it, but every single fricking cup you make it’s perfect. Happy?”

She wanted to cover her face with her vines and disappear. Never would she had imagined she’d compliment Amalia, out loud, to her face.

“I…I like your baking.” Amalia responded, shyly.

“Don’t give me the pity talk, please.”

“No, I mean it. I started working here because… because of it.” Eri looked at her in the dark. She could almost see Amalia’s hand playing with her snake hair. “And I’ve always been good with coffee cause, y’know, my snakes help me perceive the smells and temperature appropriate for each brew, so I thought I could work here. Never expected to blow up the kitchen.”

There was something there, though. Something about the way the silhouette of her hand moved, how the snakes danced over the fingers. Like a very distant memory Eri’d almost forgotten but that came back little by little as she spoke.

“Wait…” Eri threaded carefully. “Are you– Are you that girl that always came here and always ordered black coffee with marshmallows and a slice of abyss strawberry shortcake? The one that always burnt her tongue whenever she had her first sip?

Amalia let out the biggest groan Eri had ever heard leave her lips.

“How do you remember that but not me?”

The dryad basically jumped up and sat on the bed next to her.

“WHAT?! That was you?!”

“Of course it was me! How have you never noticed it?! How many snake demons do you see in the daily to not recognize me?”

“I mean, all dryads have face blindness, so…?”

Well, that wasn’t an answer Amalia was expecting at all.

“W-Wait. What?”

“Yeah. We can only recognize one another. Everyone else just looks the same, like, beyond things like voices or mannerisms? It’s like trying to differentiate two grains of rice. And that was so long ago that both things are very fuzzy in my memory. But was that really, really you?”

“Yes, it was. Why do you keep asking?”

“Cause I’m pretty sure that girl gave me a love letter once”, she said. “But then she stopped coming, so I could never answer back.”

Eri could almost swear she heard a little gasp. The snakes suddenly stopped moving, and Amalia turned away, the line of her face showing she was looking left. Suddenly her coming to the coffee shop a lot, to the point of even starting to work there, made much more sense.

“That was in the past. Before I knew a rabid hellhound was nicer than you.”

The feel of a grin in Eri’s face made a few little flowers grow at the tip of her hair.

“Hoh? Disappointed, then?”

“Like you wouldn’t believe”, Amalia answered, trying to sound calm. So, since she was playing the cool card, Eri decided to play along.

“Really?” She approached her. Vines filled with leaves and flowers grew around, and she trapped Amalia with them by the wrists, the hip, and one ankle. “Then I guess this would do nothing for you, hm?”

The snakes hissed at her. For the first time since knowing her, she thought that reaction was cute.

“Screw you”, Amalia spouted.

“Pfft. Yeah, you wish.”

“ERI!” The dryad laughed as a response. She released the snake demon and went back to lay in the bed.

“Okay, okay, I’ll stop. Goodnight, Amalia.”

Eri closed her eyes. Who knew her demon coworker could be this innocent? If she didn’t get fired, she’d have to start treating her more gently. Perhaps she’d get more fun reactions like those. As she was getting ready to start drifting into sleepiness, the voice of Amalia reached her once more.

“And what was it? Your answer…?”

Eri didn’t open her eyes, but she smiled.

“Maybe I’ll tell you over some coffee and cake.”

#writeblr #writeblrcafe #secret santa #wcsecretsanta #writing #writers #writing stuff #writers stuff #gift story #secret santa 2023

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ablatheringblatherskite · 1 year ago

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trick or treat! 👻

HELLO!!!! HAPPY HALLOWEEEEN MY FRIEND!!!

For you I have something very special!! Everything I've written so far for my unannounced (until now), never-shared-publicly-before, HTTYD RTTE fic!

(Important note: this is VERY unedited, and my writing style might change randomly because I wrote these years apart LOL. I do intend to finish it at some point, but I have no idea when it'll be done, so I might as well let you see what I've written so far now!):

...

The twins were wrestling furiously.

Which would have been normal, except they didn’t simply seem to be playing, or just annoyed with each other. In fact, they actually seemed really angry with each other.

“Did I miss something?” Snotlout asked in bewilderment as Astrid hurried forward to pull them apart.

“No!” Ruffnut protested, wrestling herself free from Astrid’s grip. “You can’t stop us! Not now!”

“Let her go!” Tuffnut cried dramatically.

“What were you two fighting about this time?” Fishlegs asked quizzically. “Another boar pit?”

“No,” Tuffnut said, shoving Astrid away from his sister. He began to attempt to hit her over the head with his fists. “We’re running an experiment.”

“What... kind of experiment?”

“You know how Hiccup always gives the bad guys these really inspirational speeches?” Ruffnut asked, proceeding to shove Tuffnut away from her. “Well, we’re trying to see if we can get him to do one for us.”

Snotlout snorted. “What? That’s it? That’s ridiculous.”

Fishlegs chuckled. “Actually, that’s an interesting experiment.”

Astrid rolled her eyes, but it was obvious she was amused as well. “Just don’t burn down the place while you’re at it.”

“Ooh, that’s a good idea, actually,” Tuffnut remarked. He winced as Ruffnut slapped him across the face. “We should try that.”

“Nah, that’d only make him lecture us.”

“True.”

[CONTINUE READING UNDER THE CUT]

“Don’t you think it would be better to do it when Hiccup is actually here, though?” Fishlegs asked. “So, you know, he can actually see it?”

“Oh.” Tuffnut stopped his pounding. “I guess that’s reasonable—ow!”

“Sorry,” Ruffnut said, not really sounding it. She frowned. “Where is Hiccup, anyway? I haven’t heard from him the whole morning.”

“It’s still morning,” Fishlegs mumbled.

“He’s out on patrol.” Astrid got back onto Stormfly. “Anyway, good luck on your experiment.”

“I doubt he’ll do it,” Snotlout scoffed. “More likely he’ll just end up scolding you two for fighting so much.”

“I dunno,” Fishlegs said, walking past him to get to Meatlug. “If the twins do it right, they might just succeed.”

“Yeah, okay.” Snotlout crossed his arms disbelievingly across his chest as Astrid and Fishlegs flew away.

...

When Hiccup arrived at the clubhouse, he was surprised to find everyone was there.

“Were you waiting for me?” Hiccup asked in bewilderment, as he sat at one of the stools.

“Nah,” Snotlout quickly said, yawning and placing his hands behind his head. “‘Just bored.”

Hiccup frowned at him in suspicion but didn’t say anything else. All was rather quiet as Hiccup pulled out a notebook and began to scribble in it.

Suddenly, screaming erupted on the other side out of the room, and Hiccup nearly fell off his chair in surprise. He looked to find Tuffnut and Ruffnut, wrestling furiously with each other. They were screaming and kicking, and even trying to bite at each other as they rolled around on the floor. Toothless jumped out of the way.

“What the—'' Hiccup breathed, getting up and staring at them. He didn’t see Fishlegs and Astrid exchanging looks, or Snotlout hiding his laugh.

“What is going on with you two??” Hiccup asked, coming forward. The twins said nothing and continued to roar at each other, pounding and clawing crazily.

“Astrid, can you help me please?” Hiccup asked, turning to her. She merely shrugged and said, “What can we do? Might as well just let them fight it out.”

“Astrid,” Hiccup growled through gritted teeth.

“She’s right, you know,” Fishlegs interjected, shrugging. “Whatever the issue the twins have we can’t really come between, can we?”

“I guess?” Hiccup glanced at the twins again. Fishlegs quickly elbowed Snotlout, who gave him a look, then loudly said, “I mean, they’re siblings after all. What do you expect?”

“Well, I was under the impression that siblings don’t fight as brutally as this.” He gestured emphatically in their direction, then looked at them again.

The twins kept right on fighting. Hiccup sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Okay,” he sighed. “Come on, Toothless. Let’s go somewhere quieter.” They both headed out, then flew off towards their house.

Once he was gone, Snotlout snickered. “Well, that was a bust.”

The twins lay panting on the ground. “How did that not work?” Tuffnut cried, sitting up. “That was one of the worst fights we’ve ever had!”

“Was it the worst, or was it the best?” Ruffnut mused. Tuffnut put his and under his chin and hummed. “Hmm. Good question.”

“I think we need to make a bigger deal out of your whole ‘issue’,” Fishlegs said thoughtfully. “Maybe we were too nonchalant.”

“Come again?” Snotlout asked.

“Yeah, maybe Fishlegs is right.” Astrid got to her feet and peered outside, to make sure that Hiccup wasn’t listening. “Maybe you need to be more verbal than physical.”

“What do you mean?” Tuffnut asked curiously.

“Well, I think one reason he only thought of breaking up the fight instead of trying to convince you to stop fighting was because he couldn’t really tell why you were fighting all of a sudden.” She smiled mischievously at them.

“She’s right!” Fishlegs exclaimed. “If they fought verbally, maybe Hiccup would be more inclined to talk them out of it. After all, if he had tried to intervene with the twins’s physical fight at all, he’d probably have had Toothless break them up.”

“But what are we supposed to fight about?” Ruffnut questioned.

“What do you two always fight about?” Snotlout asked. “You could just use one of those things”

“Macey?” Tuffnut suggested, rubbing his hand against his chin.

“Since when have we ever fought over Macey???”

...

Anddddd THAT'S IT SO FAR LOL. I hope you enjoyed that!!! :DDD Hopefully I'll actually finish it soon LOLLL

#asks #offendedteaspoon #httyd #my writing #halloween 2023 #trick or treat

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undeadorion-archive · 2 years ago

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This term has been both frustrating and mindnumbingly boring. That is until the final project for one of my classes when it became infuriating.

The class was pretty straightforward: Server Management. In which we learned how to manage a server through a terminal interface, installing everything from web servers to wordpress, and manually configuring everything. It was the easiest class, too. The teacher just did everything, then we were supposed to repeat what he did ourselves.

The final project what to just put it all together, with a partner. One ran the server side the other did the database side. Then each would make a video on what they did in their perspective roles. I hate group projects but it was only an afternoon's worth of work and we were given about 3 weeks total to get it done.

I was assigned a partner who needed a little help. He was behind in the class and the teacher assumed he just needed some guidance to understand concepts. I'd been doing quite well with a study group in another class, so I agreed.

It turned out the student didn't need help. He just wanted someone to mooch off of. We had a total of 8 modules spread across 11 weeks. Each module had just 2-3 assignments each, all but one of all assignments were shown in lecture. For as forgetful as I am and for as horribly sick I was this term, I managed to get everything in. If not exactly on time, very minorly late (a few hours to a day). And in the final 2 weeks my partner was still on module 3.

I know what it's like to feel utterly lost in a topic and anyone you ask for help treats you like an idiot. So I was prepared to roll up my sleeves and get this guy at least up to the modules that were needed for the project.

And the first question he asked as "Could you just install this for me so I can move on?" Installing that thing WAS the assignment. I thought maybe he just lacked social skills for one reason or another. So I explained why I couldn't. He kept asking weirdly vague, broad questions that I quickly realized boiled down to "give me a direct, personal walk through and tell me every command to enter."

The biggest problem? That's literally what the teacher did in lecture. Every single assignment, he just showed you everything. So I would direct him to the lecture.

Eventually it got a point that I worried about the project. There were only a few days left, and this guy had barely gotten through 1 1/2 modules. So I talked to the teacher and we made arrangements so I could get the project done without penalty and still leave an opportunity for my partner to do his part.

Then that very night, my partner pulled something that sent me through the damn roof. He outright said "let's just set aside the tutoring thing for a bit, and you just give me the answers I need to get up to speed or else I'm dropping this class." It was litterally the last day before finals week.

I called his bluff. Not only did I say "absolutely not" but told him he was on his own for everything, including the project. I gave him a full write up of what he needed to do and what I'd done. I even included which assignments to reference to know what to do.

He didn't respond for several days. Then, 2 days after the project was due (I'd turned it in 3 days prior), he comes to me and offers to talk to the teacher for me to make sure I wasn't penalized for his inaction on the project. Even though I'd made it crystal clear that I'd done so already. I'd given him documentation about it, too.

He then proceeded to argue with me. Saying that it was his "philosophy" that tutors should just give people the answers. And that it was just my "opinion" to disagree with him. Ignoring that in the middle of this whole process I was hired by the school to be a goddamn tutor for the whole program I'm in. I may have only just started, but the very first thing they teach is how you fucking tutor by guiding, not giving answers. They outright say you're not to walk students through everything.

He came back again today, asking me to help him with the project. Asking me to give him a "quick rundown" of what the project was about. After telling him already in that conversation and at least 3 times prior that I would no longer be helping him, he outright asks if I was done helping him.

Now, you may have gotten this far and thought this was some 17 or 18 year old kid. It's Fall term. It's probably his very first experience outside of high school. I thought so, too. But no, he's been in this school for 4 years before this term. It's the start of his 5th year.

Remember. While setting boundaries is difficult, it's more important that you maintain those boundaries. Even when someone repeatedly tries to force their way through them for their own self interest.

#orion goes to college

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hanzajesthanza · 2 years ago

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brought up and out from my drafts due to @essskel's post:

regis drinking at stygga (or, why i love "therefore, the road awaits us")

it's especially good of a scene because it's a choice. everything is a choice. (re: regis and the theme of choice)

there was a time in his life where regis had no choice, had no say in what he did, and soon, no control over his own self… he was coaxed into drinking by his friends, essentially not given another option because they would have otherwise excluded him entirely, and later he could not do anything but drink and regret. in this dark time in his life, he was not a good person - he acted selfishly, without regard for others, and let us not pretend here - 'humanity' was probably the last thing on his mind, he was most concerned with his own misery.

at stygga, he drinks, yes. but, as opposed to his past... it's almost tactiful, decisive when he takes the first sip, as we can tell by the dramatic entrance and scene. there are just some times you can't resist… cannot resist the temptation. but his whole story thus far has been about self-restraint. about careful, deliberate self-control. about pursed lips which politely hide fangs. about principles, which, once adopted for himself, he never breaks. about conflict resolution, patience, and a lecturing tone of voice which gives unsolicited advice in the middle of chaos. about not making haste, but utilizing good judgement considering all things and logically, carefully proceeding

it is as he spoke in september: "our team is definitely on the right track and absolutely headed in the right direction. therefore, it is apparent that we are inevitably destined to encounter the druids. a delay of a day or two will play no role. haste, however," he remarked philosophically, "gives the impression that time is terribly short. it should usually imply an alarm signal that suggests that one should slow down and consider their path reasonably."

but now, in the final battle, in the final tinges of destiny rounding his corners of his being, he has realized that this is NOT how to go about it. this is what he has learned, from his time in the hanza.

for, in january, the very last day they spent in toussaint before they left: "destiny isn’t a scroll written on by a great demiurge, nor the will of heaven, nor the inevitable verdict of some providence or other, but the result of many apparently unconnected facts, events and occurrences. i would be inclined to agree with you that destiny catches up with people … and not just people. but the view that it can’t be the other way around doesn’t convince me. for such a view is facile fatalism, a paean praising torpor and indolence, a warm eiderdown and the beguiling warmth of a woman’s loins. in short, life in a dream. and life, madam vigo, may be a dream, may also finish as a dream … but it’s a dream that has to be dreamed actively. which is why, madam vigo, the road awaits us."

from the hanza, perhaps from the mortal hanza, from his friends who will not come back after decapitation, who have no choice but to be immediate, be decisive, and act - not think, philosophize, ponder, take everything into account - but ACT... IMMEDIATELY... as he quotes angouleme's catchphrase just brimming with youthful charm, "there comes a time when you’ve either got to shit or free up the shithouse." this is his lesson, his character development from his time spent with the hanza, and also with us, the readers.

for he already learned his lesson previously when he died, and perhaps when he became a human and entered human society - use your mind. think about it. control your behavior. act respectably and honorably. for vampires do not have guidance, customs, morals... but humans, ohhhh humans have so much, so many of them. perhaps he went too much of the other way, without balance... he went from complete chaos to careful planning, planning of even oneself - because an identity of a barber-surgeon who lives in dillingen and lives in a cottage in the wilderness from june to september did not just appear from nowhere once he dug himself out of the grave. he had to reinvent himself entirely, which required planning and careful consideration.

but at stygga, planning and careful consideration is forfeit. it's a battle. it's war. it's hell. to quote dandelion, it's as orderly as a brothel with a fire raging through it. and regis, now, embroiled in chaos he once thrived in, the chaos which once consumed him and killed him - him, an immortal being - returns to it. willingly. but not fully. because he also controls himself. after living as a human for so many years, he returns to being a vampire (see previous post linked above for clarity on how i interpret this subject).

regis is not the miserable, self-loathing, tortured person he once was. when he gets drunk at stygga, even in his misery of seeing milva dead, and his rage at wanting to "fuck up this entire castle" at that, he is guided by his newfound humanity, which, although he has been a human for years, he only found his humanity within the last few months. beginning in august. at stygga, when he drinks and begins to lose his grip on himself, when he begins to act impulsively instead of thoughtfully... his impulses are that of a human's, not of a vampire's. for he does not lunge at just about anyone's necks, throw himself upon any source of blood which will grant him sweet relief from misery - which is what he did, when he was young - but instead, he drinks the mercenary, convulsing, in the laboratory, laying waste to the hideous chair, contraptions, and chemicals which awaited ciri. he hurdles into action, overtaking yennefer and geralt, to grab vilgefortz with "an incredible, tiger-like bound", seizing him by the collar and raising his fangs. he drinks not with self-pity and sorrow, but with conviction, strength, and the decisiveness. the quick, immediate decisiveness of a human, a human who has seen a girl terrorized and one of his closest friends lying in a pool of her own blood. he does not beware because a human would not beware.

in this moment, at stygga castle, regis culminates his entire character arc - which began not with the chaos and vampire identity of his youth, but the control and human identity of his adulthood. it is only at stygga in which these two identities meet, when he truly stops being afraid of himself. it struck many in tower of the swallow when he describes himself as a coward, even milva disputes this quite firmly - but regis has been a coward in his self-perception, for very long. because he was afraid, for very long - afraid he would have no friends, be excluded from social life, afraid of being alone, afraid of an immortal life spent in waste, afraid of his own misery, afraid of becoming like the past again, afraid of his own self, afraid of harm, of killing, of death... this is the moment when he is no longer a coward. when he had nothing left to fear. and everything to fight for.

#emiel regis #c: regis #the witcher books #essskel #and hes also afraid of werewolves but that's neither here nor there!!#analysis #ive thought abt this so much because. le alcoholism #this analysis is the result of a long process of being a regis apologist and explaining why actually hes not wrong and hes actually good .#txt

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strawberryspence · 3 years ago

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A Dinner and A Future

Fluff | Spencer Reid x Reader

Summary: Spencer just wants your first date to be perfect and surprisingly, it goes really well.

Word Count: 3,7k.

Warnings: some cursing, first date nerves, but that's it. just pure mindless fluff.

Writer’s Note: Hello! I've been going through a writing dry spell and the thing that solved it was writing this. I've been seeing a lot of edits on tiktok about Spencer's traumas and I just wanted to give him something simple and happy. I was also listening to Kodaline on repeat while reading this, so yeah it's going be hella sappy. Enjoy! <3

Gif is mine. Lesley Smith-Juniment, you have my heart.

Spencer is nervous.

Wait no, scratch that, nervous is not good enough. He was brimming to the edge with worry and queasiness. What other synonyms does nervous have? Spencer was antsy, anxious, perturbed, uneasy, at this point he can recite the whole thesaurus.

Spencer closes his eyes and takes a deep breathe. He can do this. He has waited for this for a long time and he won’t waste it because of burnt pasta.

Okay, he looks back at the note that David Rossi himself wrote in his own special handwriting.

1. Cook 1 pound pasta until Al Dente. Boy Genius, Al Dente should be firm when bitten. You cook it on a boiling water with salt and oil. SALT AND OIL.

2. While that’s cooking, do nothing. LITERALLY DO NOTHING. Watch it. Do the sauce later. In some miraculous way, if you don’t watch the pasta you’ll burn it.

A grin spreads across Spencer’s face as he puts down the paper and reaches for the fettuccine pasta and dropping it on the boiling water (which he measured with measuring cups he borrowed from JJ)

“Okay, now I wait for it to boil.” Spencer stares at the pasta as it cooks. Did he buy enough parmesan cheese? or enough pecorino cheese? Oh no. He looks over the other side of his counter where all the (complete) ingredients sit and he sighs in relief as if he hasn’t checked it 15 times since he started.

The pasta was still cooking and isn’t going to be firm anytime soon. Spencer ponders if he should just cook the sauce while waiting but he knows he’s going to mess it up if he doesn’t give it his undivided attention.

He looks at the watch on his wrist as it ticks to 5:21. He has one hour, thirty nine minutes and forty six seconds. He still has time before the date. The date with you.

It took him nine months, Derek and Emily annoying him to death to just ask the pretty librarian out, one extensive background research from Penelope, two separate talks of the “You deserve to be happy” advice from JJ and Hotch and one lecture about marriage from Rossi to finally ask you out.

He’s kinda annoyed really because he spent so much time thinking about you and thinking of the perfect way to ask you out but he shows up at the library you work at one day with a cup of coffee in hand and his heart on the other.

You didn’t even hesitate. There was no pause to process what he asked, there was no questions following the embarrassing stumbling of the words, “W-will you go have d-dinner with me? L-like a date... Date?” You immediately said yes with a small hop and the biggest smile on your face.

This date has to be perfect. He asked you to come to his apartment at 7. Spencer would’ve picked you up but he was making you a home made dinner and the date was taking place on the rooftop of you apartment, which Penelope and Derek helped him decorate with lights.

He tries the pasta and when its finally firm to the bite, he takes this as his queue to read the paper again. Of course, he can remember all of the instructions but Rossi still wrote it down and reading it calms his nerves.

3. If its cooked, drain your pasta water but leave a little pasta water on the side. Then you can continue.

4. In a pan on MEDIUM heat (just around 2-3 on the stove setting) cook one pound diced pancetta and 1 cup chopped onions in olive. Put this down and chop chop!

Spencer puts the paper down as he follows the instructions to drain the pasta. After he was done with it he puts the pan on the stove and starts chopping up the ingredients he needs.

Cooking is strangely calming. He never thought he’d find it calming. He always found himself burning stuff. So he sticks to the microwaveable meals and fast foods, even if he knows the statistics about these kinds of food.

After finishing the chopping he reaches over the paper and reads it again.

5. Are you done? Okay. Put the chopped stuff on the pan with olive oil and cook it until the pancetta is browned and onions are soft.

He immediately follows the instructions written. The onion and pancetta create a silent hiss as it hits the pan. As it cook he looks down again.

6. That’s going to take a while, so leave it but stay by its side. I am giving you permission to do two things at once. Dr. Reid, please be mindful of it.

Spencer rolls his eyes before proceeding to #7.

7. Combine the two cheeses. Then divide it in half. Then pour the half into 4 egg YOLKS. Just yolks! The yellow ones! Then beat it lightly until its really combined.

He has already separated the egg yolks from the whites (a job he didn’t think would be that hard but was surprisingly very hard) before he started cooking. He adds the combination of cheeses to the eggs and lightly beats it as he watches the pan of onions and pancetta sizzle.

When done with the egg and cheese combo, he gives the pan a stir before looking back down.

8. Is the egg done? Yes? Good. Is the pancetta and onion good? Yes? Good.

9. Okay, now you put your pasta in the pancetta pan.

10. REMOVE IT FROM THE HEAT! REMOVE IT!

Spencer follows the instructions to the T. He puts the pasta on the pancetta, gives it a stir and immediately removes it from the heat. He sighs in relief. He hasn’t burned anything yet.

11. You haven’t burned anything yet? I am proud of you.

12. Now, pour the egg mixture into the pan and toss the pasta until coated. TOSS IT GENTLY. If you’re scared use tongs.

13. Pour about 1/4 cup of the pasta water I told you to set aside earlier. You don’t have to pour all 1/4 cup, just until you get the creaminess you want.

Spencer reaches over the nearest tongs. He’s not going to toss anything tonight that involves pastas or pans. He’s taking the safe road because he wants everything to be perfect.

14. Add the rest of your cheese! Toss some more and then add salt and pepper as NEEDED!

15. You can serve it with parsley.

16. Now, go take a shower and change into some cleaner clothes.

17. Just be you and have fun, Spencer. Goodluck! :)

Spencer smiles as he puts the paper down and makes the finals touches to the pasta. He starts doing what was instructed and it surprisingly, ends up in the perfect texture. Just like the one he tasted when Rossi had a pasta night.

He was proud of himself as he takes it off the stove and makes sure that all the stoves are turned off. There was this report he read in 2018, that cooking and leaving the stove open was the leading cause of home fires.

He takes the food, puts it into a fancy tupperware (another thing he borrowed from JJ) and puts it in the microwave. He cleans up a little and stuffs the pans and pots to the dishwasher, because you are coming in his apartment even for a second.

He starts getting himself ready for the date with a shower. As the warm water glides through his body he thinks of how funny life could be.

Spencer first meets you in the library. He has not slept well in weeks so instead he opts to go to the library to get some reading done. But as soon as he sits in one of the (surprisingly) comfortable leather chairs, its as if sleep knocks him out. It wasn’t until the closing time that you wake him up and he thinks that you were an angel sent for him. This elicits a giggle from you.

“I am sorry, I am not an angel. I am just the librarian and we’ve been close for over an hour now. I just didn’t want to wake you up. You looked like you really needed that sleep.” Spencer immediately jumps to his feet as he apologizes profusely to the kind librarian, “Oh, it’s okay! Don’t say sorry. I was also reading so I didn’t mind the peace and quiet.”

That’s how Spencer meets you. He comes back a few days later after a case with coffee, croissant and an apology. You immediately become friends and thats how all of this started. Spencer finds himself falling in love with the kind, gorgeous, clever librarian faster than he expected.

Every week after that, Spencer comes to the library with pastries and coffees for his favourite librarian and every week, you welcome Spencer with a warm smile and a new book for him to read. He can read it in one sitting but he reads it in the slowest pace he could so it can last for a week.

Spencer comes out the shower and stares at his closet. Should he go casual or formal? Casual or formal? Its just dinner, he’s chill and casual is the way. He picks one of the few plaid shirts that he has and puts it on with a white shirt underneath. He tries to brush his hair, it sits for a moment before it starts curling again. He cringes but leaves it be.

Spencer proceeds to the kitchen to start packing the food into a wicker basket (that he also borrowed from JJ, he basically borrowed her whole kitchen). He packs the utensils in a table napkin that comes with the basket. The main course for the date was the carbonara, and the dessert was a tiramisu Penelope made.

He reaches over his sofa where the bouquet of paper flowers are. He made it a few nights ago with Penelope’s help. He stayed up to make more of it with old books he found in the BAU.

Because what kind of flowers is the best flowers for librarians? Origami flowers made with old book pages.

He shouldn’t be nervous. You’ve been friends for all the months that he didn’t have enough courage to ask you out. You’ve taken trips to old bookstores together for book hunting. This shouldn’t be different from your other trips.

The pitter patter of rain against his window takes him out of his thoughts.

“Shit! Is it raining!?” Spencer yelps, before opening the closed curtains. Beads of water runs down his windows and if its any other day he would love it. But not tonight, when he planned a rooftop date. He cringes as he thinks of the fairy lights hanged up and the table set up that is probably soaked now.

“Don’t panic. Don’t panic. Think, Spencer, think.” Spencer thinks fast. He finds the extra table cloth that JJ gave him because “Just in case.” He reminds himself to buy her a bottle of wine as a thank you. He places it in his small kitchen table before taking the utensils out of the basket and placing it on the table in a fancy way.

Candles. Does he have candles? Spencer scrambles around his kitchen, like a chicken without its head, looking for candles and he finds it underneath the kitchen sink. He lights some of it up and props it into some glasses (he doesn’t have a candle holder he realizes after lighting it up).

With the lights dimmed down leaving the light from the window and the light from the candles, his dark apartment gives off a romantic, kind of comfortable, vibes. It was kind of perfect because with the books on his shelves and the lighting, it actually has the same vibes a library gives off.

He was ready now, bouquet of paper flowers in hand. He can’t believe how smooth things are going, minus the damn rain. Only thing that’s missing is you.

A knock comes to the door and he instantly opens it. There you were, hair a bit wet and messed up from the rain.

His future was bundled up in a cozy cardigan and a pair of jeans right in front of his eyes and he didn’t even know it.

“Hi.” Spencer smiles.

“Hi.” You smile.

“A little to the right. No. No. Too much right, now give it a little bit to the left.” You sigh, your hand under your chin, “No, no, baby, its crooked.”

“Love, can we do this later? The pancetta is going to burn.” Spencer laughs as he climbs down the ladder with the frame.

“But you said you’ll help me with putting up the frames!” You pout at him, Spencer chuckles before kissing your nose, “I know but you also asked for my famous carbonara and I can’t do both at the same time.”

“Hmmm. I still don’t think you can call it yours when its originally Dave’s.” You follow him to the kitchen, zigzagging through the boxes of books you’ve both barely opened.

“What he doesn’t know, won’t kill him.” He winks at you before giving the pancetta and onions a stir.

“It already smells good, love.” You snake your arms through his waist and lean your head on his back. Spencer lets go of the spatula and spins around to face you.

“Thank you, sweetheart. Go unbox some of the books and I’ll call you when its cooked so we can fix the frames. Okay?” Spencer kisses the top of your head and lets you go.

You walk out of the kitchen to the hallway full of boxes full of books. You chuckle as you open the nearest box and its just full of chemistry books. You push it to the room where Luke, Derek and Spencer has built shelves for all of your books. An olive green couch sits in the corner beside the built in fireplace.

Hmmm. This is your home library but as a former librarian the dewey decimal is calling you. But then again, the books you and Spencer have doesn’t have classifications on them. You began unpacking the chemistry books and placing it on the shelf. You can hear the distinct hiss of the pan and Spencer humming Kodaline’s The One.

You push in another box from the hallway to the room and its another one of Spencer’s, this one full of philosophy books. You start unpacking it to the shelf below the chemistry books before stopping as you pull out a book that doesn't belong with the philosophy books. A smile graces your face as your hands glides unto it. It was the book Spencer bought for you on your first anniversary.

The Peter Pan cover is a bit tattered, it was an older edition he found in your favorite old bookstore. You open the book and Spencer’s messy writing greets you with nostalgia.

“We are most alive when we are in love. Thank you for making me feel alive everyday for the past year. Happy Anniversary, love. I live a full life as I love you fully.”

You smile at the book before hugging it to your chest. You sigh deeply as you looked around the room and how it felt so surreal to be in the new home you share with Spencer.

“Love, I am finish. Come meet me in the hallway!” You leave the book on the shelf as you hear Spencer calling you.

“Are you helping me with the frames?” You clap, excited to finally put up the frames. Spencer smiles as he sees you excited to put up the pictures.

“Yes, okay you need to tell me if they’re straight okay?” He instructs before climbing the ladder.

“To the right, just a bit. Oh! Perfect!” You scramble to reach for another frame as he comes down the ladder to move it, “Here! This one.” He climbs again and you instruct him with directions for the frame again.

After a few more frames, he finally comes down and looks at the frames you asked to be put up.

“It’s pretty, isn’t it?” Spencer smiles down at you and gives your cheek a kiss as he wraps his hands around your waist, “It is. Thank you for framing them.”

The frames comes in different shapes and forms, the biggest one in the middle is the picture of your wedding day. Your wedding took place in a library you immediately fell in love with when looking for places to get married at.

In the picture, you were smiling, your head rested on Spencer's shoulder as he reads a Harry Potter book he found in the kids section. It was a candid moment, both of you running to the back of the shelves to get a moment to yourselves after the wedding and the photographer snapped it before leaving the two of you in peace.

Beside it are pictures with the team on the wedding day, some on thanksgiving, christmas, new year with the BAU team, some with your family, some with Diana and in the corner is a shadow box containing the paper bouquet that Spencer gave you on your first date, the same exact flowers that was in your hands as you walk down the aisle to him.

“So, how's the first six months of officially being a Reid-Y/L/N?” Spencer teases as he lets you go from the back hug to face you and you roll your eyes at him, “Oh very hard. They hear Reid and they immediately expect greatness.”

Spencer laughs, “Same as the last name Y/L/N.” This time your the one who laughs at his statement, “Uhhh. I am not the one with 3 PhDs and 3 BAs.”

“And I am not the one whose a New York Times best selling author.” Spencer laughs even more when he sees your nose crinkles, making his heart dance and swell in glee.

“Hey, let’s dance.” He takes your arms and leaves it on his shoulders as he wraps his arms on your waist.

“We don’t have music, you silly goofy boy.” Spencer rolls his eyes at the endearment used, “I’ll sing.” He hushes you down.

“You make my heart feel like it's summer when the rain is pouring down.” Spencer’s singing voice was soft and sweet in the edges. Most nights you lull him to sleep with your humming to keep the monsters at bay and some days, his better days, he’s the one who sings and these were the days you treasure the most.

“You make my whole world feel so right when it's wrong, that's how I know you are the one... That’s how I know you are the one.” He sways you to the gentle buzz of his voice. You close your eyes as he sings the same song he sings to your ears on the dance floor for you first dance as a married couple.

“When we are together, you make me feel like my mind is free and my dreams are reachable hmmm.” Spencer hums as he runs his hands on your back. Your head on his chest and your ear listening to the way his heart is beating for you.

“You know I never ever believed in love, I believed one day that you would come along and free me.” Spencer feels at ease as he sways and sings, knowing that he’ll have you in his arms for the rest of his life.

The song ends but you and Spencer continue to sway to the music of silence.

“Can you believe its been 4 years since our first date?” Spencer asks, in disbelief of how fast time is running when he’s with you. You pull away from his chest so you can face him. You find a small spark in Spencer’s eyes as he thinks fondly of the night.

“Really? 4 years since our first date got rained on and Penelope cried because we broke all her fairy lights?” Spencer laughs before protesting, “Hey! I paid for that!”

"4 years later and I still can't get enough of that damn carbonara." Spence cackles, like an evil villain, "Don't tell Rossi that I stole his recipe for my beautiful partner."

"4 years later and I am still completely in love with you." Spencer smiles as he leans down to place a small kiss on your temple.

"4 years since I almost completely lost my mind because I was so nervous about our date." You roll your eyes, "Love, our first date was perfect. We've had this debate how many times now?"

"19 times." Spencer answers and you pinch his nose before looking around the room that’s still full of unopened boxes, “See. We should probably eat lunch and unpack. Why do we even have so many boxes of books?”

“Honey, you were a librarian and you are a writer. I am a professor and FBI agent that can read 20,000 words per minute.” Spencer answers as he looks around the unpacked house.

You smile fondly at him before standing on your tiptoes a bit to reach him and give him a kiss and he immediately steadies you with his hands. Kissing you was intoxicating and Spencer loves every bit of it. You only pull away when the kiss finally takes away your breathe.

“I love you, Spence.” You smile as you hold his face in your hands, “I love you more, sweetheart.” He smiles at you as you untangle yourself from him.

“Let’s eat your famous carbonara and unpack the rest of our house. It doesn’t really feel like home when all we can see is boxes.” You giggle before dragging him to the kitchen, making Spencer sit on the island as you prepare the pasta he cooked. Spencer watches you as you sing and dance through the kitchen in one of his old cardigans.

He doesn’t say anything but you were wrong. Home is not four walls with unpacked boxes and hundreds of books.

Home was when you showed up bundled in a cardigan, wet from the rain for your first date with him and home is still you, four years later, bundled up in his old cardigans and singing songs that magically fills and heals the crevices of his heart.

the recipe i copied for the famous carbonara!

taglist (if you want to be added, please message me 🥰): @all-tings-diego @shemarmooresfedora @averyhotchner @samuel-de-champagne-problems @bingereid

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the-modernmary · 3 years ago

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chess, not checkers || a. hotchner x f!reader

Summary: Cross-examining Agent Hotchner should have been a lot more simple than it had been. But when the questioning slips out of your control, you find yourself being profiled right there in the middle of the courtroom. Amazing how one stranger can know you better than anybody you've ever met.

Contains: SMUT! 18+ only, minors DNI. Fingering, (light) choking, semi-public sex, adultery, anger sex, enemies to lovers, edging, lawyer hotch <3

Word Count: 8k+

Comments: This is so heavily inspired by “charcoal grey” because we all know how hot he was in that scene. Thank you to @angelfxllcm for being an absolute godsend as I wrote this and being the most supportive friend ever. (If you haven’t read her work, you absolutely should!)

“Fucking FBI and their selfish ass schedules,” you grumbled as you hurried through the hallway of the courthouse, your intern Robin on on your heels. “Court gets pushed back for a week because Agent Hotchner just had to leave with them on a case instead of working remotely, and then expects us to drop everything to go to court the second he gets back to D.C. As if we don’t have jobs too. As if I don’t have six other cases sitting on my desk that now have to be pushed back because of him.”

Robin scrambled behind you, nodding along to every word that left your mouth. “Does this happen with the, uh…”

“BAU,” you supplied.

“—BAU, right. Do court cases usually get pushed back for them?”

You shook your head as you checked your watch. A glint caught the corner of your eye. Shit, your ring. You hadn’t expected to go to court, and completely forgot to leave it at home. You pulled it off and slipped it into the outside pocket of your bag, hoping nobody noticed.

“No. Most cases from the BAU never go to court,” you explained. “There’s enough evidence against the people they arrest that it’s almost always a plea.”

The Bankers Box in Robin’s hands almost slipped as you placed another file precariously on top of it. “Then why is this case going to court?”

Your step faltered as you processed her question, and you couldn’t hide the disbelief on your face. “You did read the brief for this case, right?” you asked, unsure if you really wanted the answer, except her embarrassed blush and averted gaze gave you enough of one. “Seriously? Okay, well, first of all, because of that, you won’t be sitting at the attorney’s table with us. Instead you’ll be in the public seating. I won’t weaken my case because you decided to be unprepared. If this happens again, you won’t be welcome to join me in court at all, am I clear?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Good.” Deciding to take pity on the poor intern, you sighed as you started your explanation. “Our client claims that his arrest was unlawful and therefore none of the evidence they found should be usable. I’m inclined to agree with him, so we’re fighting all of the charges that were made with evidence found after the arrest.”

“So you don’t think he’s guilty?”

“I don’t ask that question. I’m not God and I’m not his priest, I don’t need to hear his confession. I just need to get him out of unjust and illegal charges.”

Robin’s eyebrows furrowed. “So he’s going to walk free? Even after everything he did? How do you sleep at night?”

Fucking Christ, how did this girl even get into law school? You rolled your eyes, suddenly regretting your decision to take on an intern. “No, he’s not going to walk free. He’s going to get a lesser charge, because everything else was obtained illegally. And I sleep very well, actually, because my job isn’t some episode of Law & Order. Less than 10% of my cases ever go to trial. I’m not here to suddenly convince juries that the evidence is wrong. My job is making sure that everybody is given their constitutional rights, that the police are doing their jobs correctly, and that the State isn’t over-punishing. Any cop knows that, and if you ever come across one that doesn’t, you know that you should look into those cases even further. You have to realize, criminal defense lawyers—”

“— are the last line of protection against a corrupt system.” You turned to see your assistant, Marcus, making his way towards you, briefcase and your spare blazer that you keep in the office in hand. “I see you’re giving her your famous anti-prosecutor lecture.”

Marcus helped you slip on your blazer over your satin button up, his hands lingering on your skin for just a little too long to be considered professional, and it made you shiver in anticipation. “God knows she needs it. Thank you, Marcus, for bringing these so quickly. Were you able to get the physical copies of Agent Hotchner’s files?”

Marcus held up his briefcase. “All right here. Although I have to say, I’m a little lost as to why you need his service records.”

The three of you turned the corner to enter the courtroom, your heels clicking on the tiled floor. Robin obediently took her seat in the public viewing area while you and Marcus pushed through the swinging door to settle at your table. “I’ve heard stories of Agent Hotchner’s testimonies. He used to be a prosecutor, so he’s not easily tricked, but he is prideful and will defend his work. I’m going to use that to my advantage. It’s like I always say, practicing law means always playing chess, never checkers.”

Marcus took the seat next to you, making sure to sit close enough that his knee brushed yours the whole time. “You know, I was thinking, this case is complicated,” he whispered, “And we haven’t combed through everything yet… It could take more time than we planned.”

You smirked, knowing exactly what he was insinuating. “Agreed. I’ll tell Tony I have to stay late at the office tonight.”

Before Marcus could continue his flirting, you were distracted by the door to the judge’s chamber opening, revealing the back of a man in a black suit. “Thank you again, your honor, for the continuance,” came the deep timbre of the man, and oh. You certainly weren’t expecting that. “A young girl was able to be reunited with her family this week because of it.”

The man in the doorway turned, and your breath caught in your throat. He was tall and buff and expensive-looking and absolutely gorgeous. His suit was tailored to fit him perfectly, the sleeves of his blazer straining against his biceps. He carried himself with an aura of confidence, like he belonged in the courtroom, and he was making his way directly towards you. Unconsciously, you separated from Marcus, putting as much distance between you and your assistant as possible without raising suspicion.

The man said something to the prosecution before turning to you, hand outstretched. He said your name as a greeting, and your name had never sounded so good. “I’m Aaron Hotchner.”

When you stood up to shake his hand, you tried to ignore the way his eyes raked down your body, or the way the two of you held on just a moment too long to be considered proper. It felt as if he was looking right through you, learning all of your secrets as though they were written on your body. No, you knew that look. He was studying you. “Agent Hotchner, it’s a pleasure.”

“Likewise, Counselor. Please, call me Aaron.”

You raised your eyebrows in Aaron’s direction, still shaking his hand, and it made your skin burn. You dropped his hand. “I’m just glad we’re able to get this case done and over with. Hopefully with no more delays.”

His eyebrows quirked upwards in what could only be described as shock. “I see your reputation precedes you,” was his only reply before going to his respective seat, and if he noticed you watching his every move, he made no indication of it. That being said, you definitely felt his gaze on the back of your head as the judge entered the room and the session began.

As the proceedings dragged on, you and Marcus continued to talk strategy, his hand finding its way to your thigh ever so often. You also continued negotiating with the prosecutor, both of you flashing Post-It notes of potential plea deals that you would be willing to accept, always careful to keep it out of the eyes of the judge and jury. By the time Aaron had been called to the stand, the offer given to you still wasn’t low enough. Fine, if the prosecution wanted to make a fool of themselves, so be it.

You listened to Aaron’s testimony with the prosecution, completely enraptured. There was something about the way he spoke, so full of authority and confidence, that made the entire room drawn to him. He was incredibly intelligent, that much was clear, and despite the many years since he had actually practiced law, that prosecutor candor hadn’t left him. Staying focused on the case had proven to be more difficult than previously expected. You found yourself staring at his lips, and it didn’t take long for your mind to conjure up some obscene and explicit situations starring the man in front of you.

Eventually, his eyes caught yours, and he watched you, his lips — god, those lips — quirked up in a smirk. Aaron watched you expectantly, and in the light of the courtroom, his eyes were almost the color of whiskey, and you wanted nothing more than to drink it all in.

A sharp “Counselor” broke you out of your trance. In the corner of your eye, you could see Marcus looking at you in concern, but he was the furthest thing from your mind now, especially as Aaron let out an amused huff of air.

“Counselor, does the prosecution wish to cross-examine the witness?” the judge asked with barely hidden annoyance, making you think that it probably wasn’t the first time she had asked the question.

You stood up quickly, smoothing down your pencil skirt as you did. “Yes, your honor. Thank you,” you said, trying your best to keep your voice steady as you noticed Aaron’s eyes trailing down your bare legs.

The cross-examination started normally, and Aaron answered all of your questions with careful precision that only a lawyer could pull off. He seemed to know exactly where you were trying to go with your questions, and easily sidestepped any unflattering implication you were trying to make. Long, biased questions were met with short, clipped answers, not giving you anything to work with. Whatever move you made, Aaron was right there, two steps ahead with you. Never in your life had you met somebody who could follow you so easily or could match your wit without so much breaking a sweat.

It was exhilarating.

“Agent Hotchner,” you started, hands clasped behind your back. “Could you please explain to the court how profiles are used when finding and apprehending suspects?”

Aaron sat up a little taller in the witness box. “Using behavioral research and past case studies, we’re able to construct what we call a profile of the perpetrator, or unsub. Anything they do can give us insights as to who they are — their victims, what weapons they use, even how they dispose of the bodies. Once we have a profile of who we believe is committing these crimes, we have our technical analyst run the parameters through her system. From there, narrowing down our search is easy.”

You nodded slowly, pretending to mull over what he was saying. “For clarification’s sake, in layman’s terms, you build your profile off of assumed psychology, and not concrete evidence, is that correct?”

The muscles in Aaron’s jaw flexed, a sure sign he was gritting his teeth. “Behavior analysis is a tool, just like any other—”

“It’s a yes or no question, Agent,” you interrupted, and oh, he was not happy about that.

His tongue darted out from between his lips. “The research we use for behavior is—”

“Yes. Or no.”

Aaron hesitated, his frustration building up to palpable tension that settled in the courtroom like a thick fog. You weren’t giving him a chance to explain or show off anymore, didn’t allow him to be seen as the smartest person in the room anymore, and that was getting to him.

“Yes,” he conceded, grimacing as if admitting that was physically painful for him.

“Thank you,” you replied, and he caught the unspoken that wasn’t so hard now, was it? even if the rest of the room did not. You walked back over to your table, snatching up a piece of paper and holding it in the air. “Your honor, the defense would like to submit Exhibit Seven into evidence.”

Once the judge gave her express permission, you placed the form in front of Aaron with your left hand, perfectly manicured fingers splayed out in front of his eyes. You almost missed the way his head tilted ever so slightly and his eyes narrowed, like he was staring at a puzzle half complete. “Agent, could you please tell us what’s laying in front of you now.”

He leaned forward slightly, eyes scanning the paper before meeting back with yours. “This is a part of our official report of the case. Specifically, it has the profile that was used to lead us to the apprehension of Mr. Mckenna.”

“Does it say on that paper who had the final sign off on the profile before it was circulated?”

“Yes, that would be me. As Unit Chief, my job is to sign and finalize any reports.”

“And could you please read the profile, verbatim, as written on that report?”

Aaron’s face remained neutral, with the exception of his eyebrows scrunching together. Slowly, he had started to piece together your strategy, and he didn’t like it. “The unsub is a white male, between 32 and 40 years old. He’ll most likely be unemployed and driving a van or truck — anything that would let him easily transport his equipment and victims. We believe that he’s also had run-ins with the law before, likely as a juvenile. He’ll come across as friendly, if not a little shy. We believe that this comes from a failed relationship in his past, one where he believes that he was manipulated and wronged, and now he’s going after surrogates for that woman. Killing these women is the only thing that gives him any sort of power. If we can figure out who this past relationship was, it will lead us directly to the killer.”

You paced back and forth in front of the witness stand, your skirt tightening around your legs with every step you took. “Between 32 and 40 years old, unemployed, and killing surrogates… Except Mr. Mckenna is 22 and works part time as a bartender. How do you justify arresting my client with those inconsistencies?”

“As I mentioned before,” Aaron started, his voice dangerously low, “A profile is just one tool we use of many. Not every single part of the profile will fit every single time. Which is why we also rely on outside evidence to ensure that we have the best chance at catching the unknown subject as quickly as possible.”

“Except you had no concrete evidence, which you admit in your own report!” You took two steps closer to him, getting as in his face as possible without risking being held in contempt. With every word that left your mouth, your voice got more and more forceful, and you got more and more under Aaron’s skin.

“All of it was circumstantial at best. You had a hunch, an inherent bias against my client due to his previous conviction record, and you were frustrated at your own inability to get a good lead. But you can’t arrest somebody on a hunch, or because you’re angry. You had no evidence and the man you arrested didn’t even match the profile that you came up with!”

Your eyes locked with Aaron, his gaze heavy, and neither of you dared look away first. “Objection!” came from the prosecutor behind you. Exactly what you wanted. “Argumentative and foundation.” You flashed Aaron a predatory grin.

Two moves to checkmate.

“Sustained,” said the judge.

“Withdrawn.” You tapped the witness bench, hoping to convey an air of aloofness and calm. Aaron scowled. “Agent Hotchner, before joining the FBI, you were a prosecutor, is that true?”

Confusion flashed across his face for the briefest of moments, and it gave you a twisted sense of satisfaction to know that you had the upper hand. You knew the answer to every question you were about to ask, and he knew that. He just couldn’t figure out where you were going with this line of questioning, or what the relevance even was. “Yes, that’s correct.”

You made a soft hum of approval. “Could you please walk us through your higher education?”

“I attended George Washington University for both my undergraduate and law degree.”

“What did you major in for your undergrad?”

Aaron hesitated. “Political Science.”

Check. “So all together, you’ve had about seven years in higher education. In that time, how many psychology classes did you take?”

It was almost sadistic, the way you relished in the slight twitch of his face — the realization that he had been backed into a corner. The silence was deafening as Aaron’s scowl met your smug grin.

“None,” Aaron said finally.

“None,” you repeated, performative shock dripping from your words. “Do you have any academic background in psychology or human behavior, then?”

Aaron’s jaw clenched, and as you made your way closer to the witness stand, you saw his thumb frantically moving back and forth over his fingertips. Clearly, you had struck a nerve. “The FBI has rigorous coursework in order to become a profiler, along with multiple exams and continued training as more research becomes available to us. The profiling classes are no easy feat and are written by experts in the field. Creating profiles has a long and respected history in detective work, and these profilers have caught some of the most prolific serial killers of all time.”

You placed a hand over your chest in faux modesty. “My apologies, Agent Hotchner, I believe I wasn’t very clear. I’m not calling into question the validity and effectiveness of profiles. I’m calling into question the validity and effectiveness of you as a profiler.”

You could practically see the cartoon fire spewing out of Aaron’s ears. He was so close to being in your trap, something he had to have known, too, yet he continued to toe dangerously close to that line.

“A lack of formal education in profiling,” you continued, keeping your voice light, “and the blatant disregard for basic police and legal procedure as shown in this case with my client… I mean, how many other mistakes were made in your past cases? It’s hard to believe that you can read anybody, much less the hardened criminal that you have painted my client to be.”

Checkmate.

“Objection!” cried the prosecutor again. “Your Honor, this is —”

He was cut off by the judge raising her hand. “Sustained. Counselor, I would advise you to tread lightly from here on out.”

You raised your hands in mock surrender. “Withdrawn.” You turned around to make your way back to your table, ignoring Marcus’s look of complete disbelief. Baiting Aaron had been easy, and now all you had to do was wait.

The courtroom was uncomfortably silent for one beat… two beats…

“Not only can I read Mr. Mckenna,” echoed Aaron’s voice, “But I can also read you.”

Once you got back to your desk, you turned around, hands resting on the cool wood of the table top, but you never sat down. Instead, you leaned forward, and arched your eyebrows in a silent challenge — one he was all too eager to pursue.

“The red Harvard Law tag on your briefcase is a perfect match to your lipstick, and you wear the same one every time you go to court. Not because you’re superstitious the way most lawyers are, but because it’s your way of maintaining control in the courtroom, something you’re desperate to keep in every aspect of your life, personal and professional. I would guess that this need goes back to late high school, early college. But you’ve been worried about appearances and how you’re perceived for even longer than that.”

You fought the urge to roll your eyes. So he thought you were Type A? Anybody could have guessed that by your anything. All they would have to do is look at your color coded case files or your daily schedule, planned down to the minute. You had only been trying to sway the jury when you insinuated that he wasn’t a good profiler, but maybe you were actually starting to believe it yourself.

Except Aaron got a dangerous glint in his eye, causing your stomach to bubble with anxiety. Clearly, he was playing chess, too, and by the looks of it, he believed he was winning.

“In fact, you’re so worried about losing control, that despite your busy schedule, you refuse to hire a planner for your upcoming wedding.”

That got your attention. The objection that you were about to call died on your lips, and all you could do was stare with poorly hidden shock. Next to you, Marcus turned pale as a ghost.

Aaron, cocky bastard, continued his profile of you, with no clear signs of stopping anytime soon. “You have a tan where your ring usually is, and I know you’ve been wearing it recently as you subconsciously fiddle with where it would be whenever things in court aren’t going your way. Just like you’re doing now. You still have your maiden name, which you plan on giving up when you do get married because not taking his last name would arouse too many questions that you want to avoid. Just another way your concern of appearances is manifested. So you’re engaged.

“I would say congratulations, but it’s not a happy relationship, not on your side, anyway. Younger female professionals will take their rings off in fear of not being taken seriously, but you’re an established and respected lawyer. You needn't worry about that. So if it’s not about you, it’s about the fiance. You don’t want to be associated with him.”

You gripped the edge of the table, too angry to form words. Your nails dug into the varnish, and you were sure that your heavy breathing could be heard from across the room. This dick. This absolute, garbage, piece of shit dick. The worst part was how casual he sounded as he aired all of your dirty laundry for everybody to hear.

“He’s holding you back, in all aspects of life, but mostly intellectually. He doesn’t have a sliver of your capabilities. The two of you are probably high school sweethearts, prom king and queen type, but while you grew up and matured, he never did. He can’t keep up with you. Still acts the same way he did in high school, only now with more access to alcohol and money. Career wise, he doesn’t have much going for him, probably some sports related pipe dream. But you stay with him because you know how to control him and how to use him to your advantage.”

Aaron’s eyes zeroed in on Marcus, and all of the color drained from your face. The voice in the back of your mind was screaming at you to object, to get the judge involved, anything, before Aaron did any more damage, but you were frozen in your spot. For the first time in your life, you were completely and utterly speechless and spiraling out of control.

“That need for control is also why you’re sleeping with your assistant. It’s casual for you, but not for him anymore. You should break that off. That’s nothing new for you, though. In fact, I would bet that if we looked back at all of your affairs since your engagement, we’d find a long string of men and women, all of whom are your subordinates or of lower status than you. It’s a win-win situation — they’re more than eager to have a chance with you, and you get to stay in control. Oh, you’ll stop when you actually get married, but you continue to push that date back, as well. So…”

He leaned back in his chair, clearly feeling good about himself, and God, you could kill him. You could reach over the witness box and wrap your hands around his throat and squeeze until his whiskey colored eyes popped out of his smug, beautiful face.

Aaron lifted his chin, eyebrows raised in your direction. “Do you believe in my abilities as a profiler now, Counselor?”

That snapped you back into action. You cleared your throat and unnecessarily smoothed down your skirt in an attempt to regroup your thoughts. “Well, Agent Hotchner, thank you for that little show and tell. It’s clear that you are very passionate about your career. However, just like your profile of my client, you have no evidence for any of your unsubstantiated accusations.”

It was a pathetic attempt at saving face, and Aaron knew it, but it had to be enough for you. You turned your back towards Aaron so that you could face the judge, who, to her credit, had a perfect poker face the whole time. “Your Honor, I move to strike Agent Hotchner’s outburst” — not an outburst, Aaron was too composed to ever have one of those, but he grimaced at the word all the same — “from the record, as no question stands before the witness at this time.”

The judge looked at you dubiously, clearly debating her ruling. There shouldn’t have been any reason to worry, you were legally in the right, but there was always the chance that she wouldn’t be on your side. You noticed yourself fiddling with where your engagement ring would usually be, and you cursed yourself under your breath. How could Aaron have possibly known all of that?

“Sustained,” she said finally, “I direct the jury to disregard the witness’s, uh, example when considering the evidence.”

You let out a breath of relief. It wasn’t much of a win — everybody still heard what had happened, it was still in the back of their minds, like the ring of a bell echoing — but at least in regards to the case, you had the legal upper hand.

The judge turned back to you. “Defense, the witness is still yours, if you have any further questions.”

If you were a little more in your right mind, you would have cut your losses, but between your oath to defend your client to the best of your ability and that stupid self assured grin on Aaron’s face, you knew that you really had no choice.

Deep breath in… Slow breath out… You’re at a stalemate now.

“Agent Hotchner,” you said, causing him to perk him up in interest. Clearly, he hadn’t been expecting you to continue. “Wouldn’t an ex-lawyer and an FBI agent be familiar with the rules of decorum in a courtroom?”

His eyes narrowed. “I’m not sure I understand your question, Counselor.”

“Let me rephrase, then. Would you say that you have a history of emotional outbursts and rule breaking in your line of work? And I’ll remind you that you are still under oath.”

Aaron shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “No, I wouldn’t. Integrity is one of our core values, and we take that very seriously.”

With shaking hands, Marcus handed you one of the files you’d had him print out on Aaron. “If that’s so, can you explain why, since your promotion to Unit Chief in 2005, you and your team have had seven disciplinary hearings, one of which being an internal investigation into the excessive force used by one of your agents, and another being a congressional hearing?”

A sick sense of satisfaction passed over you when you saw him get visibly shocked, his poker face breaking for the first time that day. If he wanted to go for blood, you could fight back twice as hard. “I’m not at liberty to discuss either of those cases.”

You shrugged nonchalantly. “Very well, Agent. So between the discrepancies in the profile, your inability to control your temper, and your history of breaking procedure, coupled with the fact that you arrested my client without any warrant by kicking in the door to an innocent civilian’s house, do you really believe that your arrest and the subsequent evidence that came from that arrest was obtained legally? Or do you just not care either way, as long as you’re able to prove that you’re right?”

Right as he opened his mouth to speak, you turned your back on him and started to walk back to your table. Aaron wasn’t even able to get a peep out before you cut him off with a sharp “Question withdrawn. At this time, the defense rests.”

“Our arrest was made on the grounds of—” Aaron tried, and you smirked to yourself. He must have been desperate if he was trying that move twice. You whipped around, gaze steeled.

“I have no further questions, Agent Hotchner,” you repeated, only letting out the slightest hint of amusement. “But thank you for your cooperation with Lady Justice today.”

Aaron’s eyes met yours, and a weight settled in the pit of your stomach. You should have hated him, but something about him had you completely and utterly entranced by him. Maybe it was the novelty of the case. Maybe it was the matching intellects and the fact that he was the only other person who could give you a challenge.

Maybe you just liked the way you got to lose control with him.

As he passed you, his arm brushed yours, and your whole body burned.

“Very cute, Counselor,” he whispered, voice dripping with condescension. “How long did it take you to come up with that little switch up?”

“Don’t patronize me,” you snapped. “I was playing chess, you were playing checkers, and that’s why you lost.”

The rest of the session went on normally, if not a little tense. To your surprise, Aaron hadn’t left immediately after his testimony, and instead took a seat in the section for the public. Good. As soon as courtroom decorum wasn’t a factor, you were sure to give him a piece of your mind.

Court adjourned for the day, and you couldn’t get out of there fast enough. You told Marcus to continue to push for a better plea option as you grabbed your briefcase and stormed out, pushing through the throngs of people until you could see the back of Aaron’s head.

You sped up your steps until you were right behind him, and you grabbed his wrist to stop him in his tracks. “I have a bone to pick with you.”

You pulled Aaron into an empty conference room, hoping to get some privacy before you completely blew your lid. You already had one public humiliation because of him, and you did not need another.

“What is your problem?” you hissed, locking the door behind you. “You had no right to put my personal life on blast like that.”

Aaron placed his hands on his hips, swooping the sides of his suit jacket back, and you had to make a very conscious effort to not stare. “You questioned my profiling abilities, and I proved them.”

“You didn’t prove shit,” you argued, folding your arms across your chest. “Except for the fact that you’re an insufferable bastard.”

“Are you saying that my profile was off? Because if you didn’t want to be caught committing adultery, then you shouldn’t have made it so obvious.”

You gritted your teeth and took a step towards him in a futile attempt to come across as intimidating. Even in your heels, he still seemed to be towering over you. You’d have to level the playing field somehow. You gripped his tie and used it to pull him down so that he was closer to eye level with you. “I don’t need your judgment, Aaron.”

Aaron moved closer to you, and you could feel the heat radiating off his body. His Adam's apple bobbed and it captivated you. “I couldn’t care less about what you do,” he said flippantly. “Matter of fact, I don’t think this fit of anger is even inherently about your little secret coming out. Do you want to know what I think it is?”

“Not at all.”

“I think,” he continued, completely ignoring your protest, “You’re angry because as much as you can dish it out, you can’t take it.”

Your grip on his tie tightened at his words. “Trust me, I can take anything,” you said, voice low and breathy.

Aaron’s eyes flickered to your lips — those kissable, red stained lips of yours. You hadn’t had to reapply your lipstick once throughout the day, and he idly wondered just exactly what it would take to muss up that perfect, pouty red lip.

“I also think that for the first time in a very long time, you didn’t have control, and you liked it.” He bent down a little bit more so that his lips brushed against your ear with every word and you could feel his breath run down your spine. “Aren’t you bored of sleeping with boys who are so far beneath you?”

You’re not sure who initiated it, but the next thing you knew, your lips crashed against his, the two of you making out like it was the last kiss either of you were ever going to get. His hands felt impossibly everywhere all at once — gripping your hips, tugging at your hair, and even snaking under your work blouse to palm at your breast. His teeth nipped at the fibres of your lips. With every movement of his hands, little gasps escaped you, and you could feel the curve of his lips curling up into a smirk.

His fingers trailed up the side of your body, past the curve of your neck, and tangled themselves in your hair before yanking it back, exposing the column of your throat. Immediately he attached his lips to your neck, nipping at your pulse point.

“Aaron,” you whined, trying to regain the breath he stole from your lungs. You practically melted in his arms, going completely weak at the knees, especially as his tongue trailed across the underside of your jaw. You let his tie fall from your grip, instead bringing your hands up to cup his face to pull him in for another kiss.

His lips set a bruising pace, and it caused a fire to burn in the pit of your stomach. You had never once been kissed like this, never once felt so all-consumed by a person. Aaron’s cologne surrounded you, making your head spin. Bruises were sure to form from how harshly he was gripping your hips, but you didn’t care. He was addicting, and you wanted more.

Hotch walked you backwards until you were pressed up against the wall, his thigh shoved in between your legs, forcing your skirt to ride up. The position made his arousal obvious as he pressed against you. The way he held you was possessive, primal even, Unconsciously, you ground down on his thigh, hoping for anything to help relieve the ache between your legs.

Unfortunately for you, Aaron caught on to what you were trying to do, and he chuckled against your lips before pulling away just far enough to speak. “Look at you,” he whispered, and the raspiness of his voice only served to turn you on even more. He hooked a finger under your chin, forcing you to look up at him, and his thumb traced your bottom lip, tugging at it ever so slightly. His other hand slowly trailed its way up your thigh, nails scratching at your skin. “Skirt hiked up around your waist, desperate to get off. Your little boyfriends aren’t doing it for you anymore?”

He pressed his thigh further into you, ripping an involuntary moan from your throat. “Fuck,” you gasped, your hips still moving back and forth against him, not caring how needy it made you seem. “I need… I…”

“What? Big, bad lawyer doesn’t have any more smart ass comments?” he cooed sarcastically, pushing your skirt up even higher. He replaced his thigh with his hand, and his fingers ghosted over your covered pussy, teasing you, not giving you nearly enough contact. “Fuck, you’re so wet already. Go ahead, needy girl, if you’re that desperate.” Aaron yanked down your panties in one fell swoop, and you blindly kicked them off to the side. “Be a good girl and show me how much you want this.”

Without any more of a warning, one of his fingers entered you, and you let out a breathy moan that Aaron was sure to have on repeat in his mind for days to come. When the heel of his palm pressed against your clit, your brain completely short circuited. You threw your head back as far as you could despite being pressed against the wall as his name clumsily tumbled from your lips like a prayer.

“You’re so fucking tight,” he grunted, pressing you further against the wall. “Can’t wait to feel you around my cock.”

Electricity coursed through your veins as he added a second finger, easily finding that spot in you that made you see stars. You rocked your hips back and forth against his hand, eyes screwed shut in pleasure. His lips trailed from your jawline, down your neck, and to your collarbone.

“Look at me,” Aaron ordered, tightening his grip on your chin, and your eyes shot right back open. Instead of the whiskey colored irises you had gotten used to, Aaron’s pupils were so blown that they made his eyes completely black. “I want to see you lose control all over me. Gonna make sure you come harder for me than you have for any of your boy toys.”

That wouldn’t be very difficult. Nobody had ever made you feel the way you did then, Aaron’s fingers buried deep in your cunt and lips exploring every inch of skin he could access. No part of this was for his pleasure — from the curl of his fingers to the slow circles on your clit, it was all expertly calculated to bring you to the edge with as much intensity as possible, and it was all devastatingly effective.

“I’m so close,” you whimpered, and if it weren’t for the wall behind you, you would have completely lost your balance. “More, fuck, please.”

“More?” he mumbled against the column of your throat. “Use your words, sweetheart.”

Coherent sentences were not an option for you at the moment, not when you were so deliciously overwhelmed with pleasure and with Aaron. Besides, how could you tell him that you wanted him to completely and utterly ruin you? That you wanted him to bend you over the conference table and pound into you until you could barely speak. You wanted Aaron to mark you and send you home to your fiance with reminders of every little thing he did to you for the days to come. You wanted raw and untamed passion. You wanted to be consumed, for him to settle in your lungs like smoke, and haunt your dreams for the rest of your life.

You didn’t want nice and calculated the way every other man you’d been with had acted — you wanted Aaron Hotchner to take control.

You couldn't say any of that, so instead, you grabbed his wrist, the one that was holding your chin in place and, without breaking eye contact with him, you guided his hand down until it rested on your throat. “More,” you choked out, giving him an animalistic grin.

That was all it took. Using his grip on your neck, he pulled you in for another kiss, messy and desperate and swallowing all of your incoherent moans as his fingers moved harder, faster.

You clung to him like a lifeline as you felt your whole body tense up, your orgasm fast approaching. You were so fucking close and he felt so fucking good and, God, if this is what losing control felt like, then you and Aaron could do this forever and —

His fingers were gone from you, and you clenched around nothing. You cried out in protest, which only seemed to amuse him.

“Oh? Prom queen isn’t used to not getting what she wants?” Keeping his hand on your throat and you pinned against the wall, he made slow, teasing work of his belt buckle.

Your chest rose and fell in a desperate attempt to catch your breath. “What happened to watching me come undone all over you?” you shot, trying to even out your voice as much as possible. It didn’t work very well. “Did you lose your nerve?”

A dark, humorless chuckle escaped his lips. “Don’t worry, Princess, that’s still the plan. I just never said where. I want to make sure you’re nice and wet and ready for me to turn you into a moaning mess on my cock.”

In an attempt to regain some control of the situation, you rolled your eyes. “Yeah? And how do you expect to do that?”

He smirked and released your throat. Wordlessly, he grabbed your wrist, and guided your hand down your body, further and further until you reached your throbbing pussy. He used his hands to press your fingers to your clit, and you whimpered softly. God, you were dripping, and the extra stimulation didn’t help your shaking legs.

“By making you so needy and whiny that by the end of this, you're begging for me,” he hissed, lips brushing the shell of your ear with every word. He moved your fingers so that you were rubbing small, slow circles around your clit, although it wasn’t nearly enough to give any real relief. “Begging for me to come and fuck you over and over and over again. Because you know that your pathetic fiance and your string of affairs have never made you feel like this before.”

Aaron yanked your hand away from your clit and you could sob. You wanted to cum so badly that you could barely put it into words. Still holding your wrist, Aaron brought your hand up to his face. He took a brief moment to admire the way your fingers glistened, covered in your arousal, before bringing them to his lips and sucking.

Eyes wide, you made a choked noise as you committed the view of Aaron to memory. “Please, Aaron, fuck, I need you,” you whined, the start of a long string of incoherent begging. You needed him then and there, damn the consequences.

He pulled your fingers out of his mouth slowly, and you moaned at the obscene wet noise it made. “So desperate,” he murmured as he began to unbutton his slacks. “All for me. All because I edged you once.”

Aaron pulled down his pants just enough to pull out his dick, and you licked your lips involuntarily when you saw it, big and thick and leaking precum. Clearly, it gave Aaron a bit of an ego boost, because as he ran the head up and down your sensitive folds, he reminded you, “You did say you could take anything, Princess.”

Your breathing came out shaking as you shivered, waiting for him to do something — anything. You were so empty and you needed him so badly. If you didn’t get his dick in you soon, you were pretty sure you would lose your mind completely.

“Fuck me, Aaron,” you moaned, arching your back to press into him more.

He pressed a chaste kiss to your lips in an almost intimate gesture. “Patience is a virtue,” he chastised.

In your haze of arousal, you barely noticed him grabbing your briefcase and digging through the small pocket in the front. You especially didn’t notice his pause when his finger touched something small, round, and metal in the bottom of the bag. The only thing you cared about was him coming back to you, holding up a condom packet with a smirk.

“I knew I’d find one somewhere in your briefcase.” You let the comment slide, the excitement at the prospect of sex with Aaron Hotchner outweighing any jackass comment he could make. Aaron made quick work of putting on the condom. The second he was done, one of his hands ran up your thigh, getting a good grip on it before pulling it up and around his waist.

“Do you feel how wet you are for me? How willing you were to give up control? All for me? That—” Lips pressed to your ear, he pushed his cock into you, bottoming out with one thrust. You threw your head back in pleasure. “—Is playing chess, sweetheart.”

Aaron dropped his forehead to the crook of your neck as he began pounding into you at a desperate pace. He had held off on his own pleasure for long enough, and now he was chasing his orgasm with a ruthless determination. One hand stayed gripping your thigh, the other one braced against the wall next to your head. Aaron nipped at your neck in between moans of praise for you.

“I — oh, fuck — knew it,” he groaned, digging his fingers deeper into your thigh. “You wanted somebody to take control. Somebody who knows how to please you.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck and tangled your fingers in his hair, pulling him impossibly closer to you. You were an incoherent mess at this point, his name tumbling from your lips like it was the only thing you knew how to say. At that moment, it probably was.

“Finally, that bratty mouth of yours is good for something. You sound so pretty, moaning out my name. Say it again.” A particularly deep thrust caused you to tug at his hair. “Louder.”

Never before had you met somebody like Aaron Hotchner, and you weren’t sure if you ever would again, so you screwed your eyes shut and let yourself get lost in the absolute pleasure he was providing. You memorized everything you could — the way the calluses on his hands felt against your skin, the way he moaned out your name, how deliciously full you felt, and how for the first time in your life you felt truly seen — so that you could suspend the moment in amber to preserve in the back of your mind.

“Please,” you begged, scratching his scalp lightly with your nails. “I’m so close. Fuck, Aaron, you feel so good, please.”

Aaron tore his lips from your throat, choosing instead to press his forehead against yours. His lips brushed yours with every word he spoke, so close that you were practically kissing him. “That’s it, princess,” he murmured. “Be a good girl. Be a good girl and come. All over my dick.”

When you came, it was with a cry of his name as your whole body shuddered. You clung to him as he continued to fuck you. His thrusts began to stutter, and he took the opportunity to capture your lips in one last, scorching kiss, and you were all too happy to oblige.

You think he moaned something as he came, but you couldn’t hear it over the sounds of skin slapping against skin. He fucked you through his orgasm, making sure that you felt every single inch of him. As if you could ever forget it.

The two of you stayed where you were for a few moments, relishing in the feeling of being full a little longer. Your walls fluttered around Aaron, which caused him to muffle his whimpers into your throat.

“Aaron…” you whispered, not wanting to disturb the moment. “That was so—”

“I know.”

“We shouldn’t have done it.”

“I know.” He pulled back just enough to leave a lingering kiss on your lips, and your whole body burned. “But I don’t regret it. Do you?”

You shook your head. “Not at all.” The confession lingered in the hair for a tense second because both of you seemed to remember where you were.

Aaron slowly pulled out of you, an act that looked almost painful for him when you let out an involuntary moan at the feeling. He could have spent all day in you, if given the chance.

The two of you adjusted yourselves in silence, both of you hoping to be able to leave the room with some semblance of professionalism. At the very least, the goal was to not look like you had just had sex in a courthouse conference room. Shame and embarrassment flooded you — what had you been thinking?

Once you felt that you were presentable enough, you grabbed your briefcase and tried to ignore Aaron burning a hole in the back of your head with his gaze.

“Well, Aaron, this was fun.” You cleared your throat. “I’m sure we’ll see each other around at some point.”

You were two steps away from the door when you heard his smug, courthouse voice come back in full swing.

“Forgetting something?”

You turned around in a huff, ready to go right back to arguing with him, but what you saw made your whole body heat up in embarrassment. There was Aaron with a self-satisfied grin and dangling off his finger was your panties.

“These are cute,” he mused. “It’s a shame I didn’t get to fully appreciate them.”

You rushed over there, fully prepared to snatch them out of his hand. “And you never will,” you shot, but even as you said it, you didn’t make much of an effort to take them out of his hands. You just stared at him and his swollen lips and mussed hair, all your doing.

Ever the gentleman, Aaron started to hand your underwear back to you, but instead of taking it back like you knew you should have done, you covered his hand with yours, closing it in a fist around your panties.

“Who says you can’t?” you whispered, guiding his pantie-filled hand down to his pockets. “This way… You can keep it as collateral. To make sure I’ll come and see you again.”

His breath hitched in his throat as you guided him to put your panties into his suit pocket, and you were glad to be the one surprising him this time.

“I don’t care about your fiance,” Aaron started, and you braced yourself for the worse. “But I’m not interested in being the ‘other man’ to your affairs with your assistants, too.”

“Consider it ended,” you promised, not caring how desperate or easy it made you look. You wanted to keep Aaron around for a long, long time.

Just until the wedding, you corrected yourself.

You slung your briefcase over your shoulder, wincing as it dug into a bruise that Aaron had left. It would be there for a while — you’d have to find a way to hide it from Tony until it faded. The thought made you stupidly giddy. “I’ll see you around, Aaron.”

He nodded in goodbye, and you slipped out of the conference room on shaking legs. As soon as the door closed behind you, you reached into your bag, and reluctantly slipped on your engagement ring.

#aaron hotchner fanfiction #Aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner smut #criminal minds fanfic #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner x y/n #my writing #criminal minds

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notnctu · 4 years ago

Text

haechan: the cocky | vol 1

━ welcome home to housemating smut series :)

☆ click the link above to read background info about this housemate!

☆ GENRE: smut, pwp ☆ DETAILS: fem!reader, college!au, housemate!au ☆ WARNINGS: oral, voyeurism, explicit language ☆ WC: 2,659 ☆ SYNOPSIS: on this sunny afternoon, you’re home alone while everyone else is in class... or so you thought. as haechan’s name spills from your lustful mouth, he mindlessly comes in thinking that you’re calling for him. instead, he walks in to see you fingers deep and in need of some assistance, again.

☆ AUTHORS NOTE: happy halloween everyone!! pls read the background info before proceeding with the fic!! absolutely pwp, there is no real plot here besides smut LOL and yes there will be a part two ! maybe multiple parts idk yet lol depends on my story building

Tossing your backpack into the corner of your room, you pounce on your bed as quickly as possible. There was something about Haechan’s outfit choice today: baggy relaxed pants and an oversized plain white tshirt that only he could pull off. Something about his cool, carefree attitude riles up an inexplicable part of you. And though you didn’t have much time to drool over his incredibly impressive outfit before dashing for your 10 AM, it is all that’s been running through your head.

And truthfully if you had been caught staring for even a millisecond, you wouldn’t hear the end of it from him. You’ve seen this guy go two days straight sitting in his boxers and wrinkled old tee as he yells profanities at his computer monitor. Yet, in some egotistical world, Haechan still manages to be the cockiest person in the whole house.

Haechan has pulled quite a fair share of girls, but nothing in comparison to Jaehyun or Johnny. The reason behind his sly smirks and obvious traveling eyes could possibly be that he’s pulled you, quite a number of times.

Haechan never really peaked your interest until he became the one you spent the most time alone with. He is not the type to boast about his sexual encounters, so you really had to squeeze it out of him. Long talks of his cunnilingus tactics had you wet by the end of it all, not expecting that this gamer boy had such an eager passion for seeing girls squirm from his tongue.

Eager and strong enough passion to ask if he could get a taste of you, then proceeded to bring up all the moments that he has passed by your room to see you sprawled across your bed naked and rubbing one out. You had a poor habit of not closing your door all the way.

However strangely enough, you didn’t feel embarrassed that Haechan was the one who saw you. In fact, if anyone in the house did catch you masturbating, you’d hope it was him. Your relationship is comfortable to the point of seeing the worst sides of each other, you could be your true self around him because he wasn’t some playboy to impress. He is and always will be, Lee Haechan, the boy that sucks at arm wrestling.

So as you check your housemates’ locations and thinking that the coast is clear, you begin to peel off your bottoms and panties. Every naughty thought of Haechan rolls into your lustful mind. Tugging at his fluffy hair. His plushy tongue against your clit. His light spanks against your ass. His needy hands gripping your thighs. His low throaty moans.

You get into your favorite position --- ass up, on your knees and legs spread open, with your face buried in a pillow. Your hand tries to mimic his touch: gently teasing your nipples, trailing down your stomach until you reach your sensitive bud. Your fingers gather your slick and automatically, Haechan’s name escapes your lips. Closing your eyes, you recall all the times he’s eaten you out until you’ve seen stars.

Now if Haechan wasn’t so forgetful, he wouldn’t have to drive all the way back home to grab his notebook for lecture. When the boy enters the house, he takes note of your scattered shoes at the door and the faint sound of your voice. Curiously, he walks up the stairs to the rooms and hears you calling for him and concludes that you probably heard him come home.

When he approaches your slightly opened door, he sees an image that immediately halts him in his tracks. Through the rather large slit, he has the clearest view of your dripping pussy and quick fingers rubbing at your clit. And he registers your calls for moans. You were moaning his name, not calling for him.

He glances around at the other open rooms to check if anyone else is home, but that is probably why you thought it would be completely fine to not close your door, again. When he returns to the incredibly sexy scene of you masturbating to the thought of him, you’re so lost in your own pleasure that you don’t even hear his heavy breathing.

A tent forms in his pants as he feels all his blood rushing to his shaft. He’s beyond turned on, like come on, it’s him you’re thinking about. This does nothing, but fuel his already large ego. Haechan enters your room and clears his throat, “you should really learn to close your door, baby.”

Your momentum breaks at the sheer fear of someone else’s voice. Panic settles and the first thing you see when you look up is Haechan’s small smirk. He leans against the frame of your door, arms crossed and eyes never leaving your figure.

“Why are you home?!” You throw a pillow at him, very well annoyed at his presence and for ruining your private time. Sitting up on your knees, you try covering your lower half with your blanket. Haechan is quick to stop you, while simultaneously shutting your bedroom door.

“I forgot my notebook.” He leans in, lips inches away from yours and his hand pulling the sheets off your body. “I have twenty minutes to spare, so let’s make this quick, mmh? Seems like you’re in need of my assistance... again.” His eyes are dark, and the sunlight that seeps through your shades shines so beautifully against his melanin. The faint smell of his cologne messes with your mind and god, you want him so bad and you hate that he can tell.

“Get back into your previous position and show me how you touch yourself.” He leaves a quick peck on the corners of your lips before standing at the end of your bed.

“What if I don’t want to?” You’re not usually bratty with other partners, but Haechan’s assertiveness and overall aura draws it out of you so naturally.

He pokes his tongue at the inside of his mouth, protruding his cheek and tilts his head at your bratty attitude. Staring you down with hungry eyes and a raised eyebrow, he says in a serious tone, “no time for games right now. You want me or not?”

“Yes, please.” You nod with urgency once you realize that Haechan still had class to get to. Turning back around, you rest comfortably on your elbows with your knees firm on the mattress. Your hand travels down to circle your clit again, resuming your previous lustful actions before Haechan interrupted you.

Every jolt runs down your legs as a pumping surge of electricity, all the way down to your toes. Haechan palms himself watching you get back into the mood, biting his bottom lip at the delicious sight of your glistening, pretty pussy on display for him. It doesn’t take much before he hurries to get under you and in between your legs.

He lays back flat on the bed as you hover over him, your hand still rubbing intensively at your bud and your juices collecting in your palm. Taking your wrist, he guides your wet fingers into his mouth. You moan knowing your fingers are being cleaned by Haechan, him sucking your taste off of you.

“Fuck, you taste so good.” He groans, bringing your hips closer to his face. Without another second of hesitation, he licks a long strip across your clit.

“Hyuck..” It has been established between the two of you that you have special rights to use his government name. He loves how hot it sounds coming from you, like it is meant to be spoken only by you. “..I’m.. already.. going to burst.”

He kisses your inner thighs, then encapsulates your bud in his mouth. Your legs give out at the mind blowing pleasure that comes with Haechan’s plushy licks. His tongue doesn’t leave your clit for more than a second, suckling and rubbing it like his life depended on it.

When you peer down at him, his face is entirely pressed up against your body: nose digging into your skin and mouth latching on for a taste. He gives your ass a little spank, then grabbing a handful to squeeze. The tinge of pain turns into pleasure as the feeling of static runs throughout your lower half.

Haechan tries to free himself from his pants, growing painfully hard that it began to feel strained. One hand unzips and tugs down hastily at his bottoms, his cock springing up and slapping against his stomach. He lifts his shirt up as far as it can go, not once breaking his attention on making you feel good.

You yelp when his two fingers enter your hole abruptly, gathering enough of your slick to cover his own dick. With your wetness, he strokes his tip with his thumb and the vibrations from his moans sends shivers down your spine. But Haechan is more than skilled at multitasking, jerking himself off while he eats you out.

“Fuck, are you touching yourself?” Your head turns enough to see movement in your peripheral vision. You can infer two things: Haechan is half naked and fucking his hand so fast that it shakes the bed a bit.

“Of course I am. You’re fucking hot, baby.” He only pulls away briefly to speak, his soft tongue flicking rapidly harder against you now. Haechan knows you’re close, without you needing to say much. Your toes curl at the intensity, your moans become louder, and you’re gripping onto his hair as tightly as possible.

The peak of your mountain is at the tip of your lips, your legs are about to give out at any moment, but Haechan is showing no mercy to slow down. “Just like that, shit.” Your hips mindlessly grind with his fast-paced rhythm.

Haechan can feel his own release coming just as quick, his own grip growing tighter around his shaft as his hips have no caution to stop. “Give it to me, (Y/N).” His low grunts solely push you to your edge, as you announce your orgasm.

Your shaking legs uncontrollably twitch around his head as the euphoric feeling fills your blood stream. Like a knot coming undone, it’s the most rewarding feeling you’ve ever felt. You try to catch your breath as Haechan unlatches from your swollen clit, and his moans replace yours.

“(Y/N),” He barely manages to speak and you look down in between your legs to see him biting his bottom lip hard and eyes closed. “--I’m going to fuck you until you can’t walk... when I get back..” and with that, he cums all over his lower stomach, short strings of white landing across his body.

You roll off of him, grabbing tissues from your nightstand to clean him up. “Are you still going to make it?” A hoarse laugh rumbles your chest as Haechan remembers the lecture he has to attend.

“I’ll just show up late.” Wiping the last bit off of him, he gets up to hurriedly zip himself up. “Why are you suddenly so needy?” He jokes, partially. A smug grin appears reminding you of his haughty personality.

You scoff at his remark, “I am more than capable of taking care of myself.”

“Yeah, but why do that when I clearly give you the best orgasms of your life.” He shrugs, his tone being quite matter of fact. He chuckles mischievously at your displeased expression, running out your room before you can chase him out.

“Okay, I’m leaving!” He yells from the hall, hurrying down the stairs to catch the last half of his lecture.

“Bye, thank you... I guess..” You pull your panties up, your voice trailing off when you step out of your room to the top of the stairs to watch him leave.

He stops to peer up at your obvious fucked out appearance, admiring you all in your glory. “Any time, baby. What are housemates for?” Haechan winks flirtatiously before he shuts the front door.

The rhetorical question repeats in your head, what are housemates for?

As everyone floods back home later in the day, you and Haechan act as if nothing happened. That’s the thing about you two, Haechan never really feels the need to brag to the others, only if provoked.

You two can live in this house with the other three not expecting a single thing, not knowing that there is courage behind Haechan’s bold statements. Not even the way Haechan stares at you sometimes can give anything away. This man is too slick, too quick on his feet to ever be caught.

“You make it to all your classes today, Haechan?” Johnny asks as the three of you devour the dinner Doyoung made, Jaemin once again not being home.

“Yes, dad.” Haechan answers sarcastically and stuffs his mouth full of dinner rolls. “I had a midterm that I totally aced.” He smiles proudly, but your ears catch onto the first half of his sentence and immediate guilt settles.

“You had a midterm?” The tone of your question raises a few eyebrows at the table, the rest of the boys wondering why you sounded so worried.

Nevertheless, Haechan doesn’t lose his cool. He simply bids you his sugary sweet smile and says, “not for that one.”

“No flirty eyes at the table.” Doyoung scowls as Haechan’s corner lip twitches into another infamous smirk. He somewhat enjoys the thrill of almost getting caught, you make it all too easy for the others to find out.

You gulp your food harshly and shy away from Haechan’s dark gaze, not knowing the right words to recover your slip up. Jaehyun acknowledges the confusion in the room, laughing nervously at your sudden bashfulness, “why did (Y/N) sound so worried?”

Your food gets stuck in your throat, waiting to hear what Haechan has to say to your nosy housemates. “I had to come home to grab my notebook and missed the beginning of class. She’s just looking out for me, it’s cute.”

And your eyes make the most dramatic roll, “I should’ve just let you to suffer the consequences.”

“But you’re a good girl.” Haechan barely lets you finish, his sharp-witted tongue almost cutting you off.

“(Y/N) is the best girl.” Johnny ruffles your hair and picks up your chin, being oblivious to the sexual tension between you and Haechan. “Now, did my best girl go to all her classes today?”

You push his large hand off of you, grumbling lowly, “yes, Johnny.” Mindful to not say dad as it would steer him with too much satisfaction, “unlike you delinquents, I actually go to class and stay for the whole thing.”

“I do too.” Doyoung bickers.

In response, you pinch his cheek harshly. “I know and I’m always proud of you, my bunny.”

Haechan clears his throat obnoxiously, “I’m going to play games, hop on when you all are done.” He takes a few more dinner rolls as he starts heading up the stairs with his plate of food.

“Can’t, I have someone coming over in a few.” Jaehyun stuffs his cheeks full of deliciousness.

“Me too.” Johnny chimes and you’re repulsed that more than half of the house is going to be having sex at the same time.

“In that case, that is my cue to leave and put on noise canceling headphones.” Doyoung gathers his plate to rush out of the scene.

Jaehyun and Johnny finish their dinners at an impressive speed, “don’t be too loud, Haechan!” Johnny loudly proclaims and though you can’t see Haechan’s face, you can imagine his devilish smile through the cadence of his voice.

“Oh, trust me. I won’t be the loud one tonight.” Your phone lights up from incoming texts. As your eyes register the messages, you almost choke on your food at the implications.

housemate haechan: come to my room when you’re done

housemate haechan: and don’t expect to walk tomorrow:)

And you’re finishing your dinner as fast as everyone else is, shamefully excited to make your way upstairs.

What are housemates for?

#neowritingsnet #nct-writers #kpopscape #neothestars #nct scenarios #nct smut #haechan #lee haechan #haechan smut #nct imagines

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streetlight11 · 4 years ago

Text

Strawberry Lattes

Summary: He always needs his morning caffeine to wake him up for his morning classes. He never knew what it feels like wanting to come back to a particular place again and again solely for one reason, until he met you. You were a full time barista and a part time university student. Despite the stress you get almost every week, your two friends have always been there to support you. What happens when your friends come to visit you at your workplace one day, only to find out that they were friends with the same boy who not only is your eye candy, but also your regular customer?

Genre: Super fluffy

Pairing: Kim Sunwoo x GN Reader

Word count: 5.5k

It was another dreadful morning after only 2 hours of sleep due to staying up all night hoping to finish at least 50% of the assignment. But this wasn’t an excuse for you to call in to work sick or unable to come for your shift. Hence, the reason why you were now forcing yourself out of bed to freshen up and get ready for work. You were a full time barista at a local café downtown just around the corner from your apartment, and also a part time student at Yonsei University.

The reason why you chose this path was because you wanted to further your studies but also earn a monthly allowance in order to pay for your school and house bills since you were living alone and didn't have the time to search for a roommate.

Despite the stress load you get every once in a while, you managed to cope and tried your best to pass each module. Today was no different, as you got ready for work and was out the door by 0730. You arrived at the café only to find your manager already preparing the coffee machines and restocking the cakes in the fridge beside the cashier. You greeted him good morning before he smiled at you.

You went into the back room to put your bag down and took your apron. Proceeding to head to the front where the cashier and coffee machines were.

“Did you get enough sleep yesterday?” Kihyun asked.

Before you could reply, a yawn left your lips as you used the back of your hand to cover your mouth slightly.

“Nope. But I’ll be fine.” You said. You could hear the heavy sigh that left his lips when he closed the fridge door and soon turned to you with a frown.

“(Y/N), you know you have to get some rest. It’s not good for your health.” Kihyun said, but you nodded.

“I know Ki, but I can’t fail this module.”

“Just… know when to take a break okay?”

“Okay.”

With that, he went to the back room to settle some paperwork while you stayed by the counter, refilling the powders into the containers. After you were done, a few customers had entered to buy their morning caffeine doses. 4 orders and 5 minutes of silence later, you leaned over the counter top with one knee resting on the stool in front of you that was hidden from any customer in plain sight.

You supported your head on your palm, slowly finding yourself drifting to sleep when the doorbell chimed, catching your attention. You looked up to see a guy walking into the café looking just as tired as you were but he had more life in him.

“Dang he’s cute.” You thought to yourself as you quickly wiped the pout off your face and soon replaced it with a warm smile.

“Good morning, may I take your order?” you greeted him.

He flashed you a soft smile before glancing up at the menu boards hanging above your head.

“Do you have any recommendations? I feel like trying something new.” He finally looked back down at you, only for you to feel as though your airflow got sucked out of your lungs.

“Personally I really like the Iced Matcha Latte with soy milk if I want a non-caffeinated drink. But if I want that espresso kick to start my mornings, I really love the Strawberry Latte, with two pumps of syrup and a light dash of strawberry sprinkles. It’s not too strong and it definitely gives you a sweet tangy balance to the bitter coffee taste.” You ended your speech with a light giggle after you realized how long it was.

The male only smiled fondly at you during that whole minute explanation but it was worth it. “Great, can I get the exact order for the second one then?” He said. You looked quite surprised but nonetheless smiled as you began to key in the order

“Choice of size?”

“Regular please.”

After you were done, you took the regular size takeaway cup and a marker, looking at him to ask for his name or initials.

“Sunwoo.”

The corner of your lips tugged upwards, writing down his name before setting the cup to your left beside the coffee machine and soon charged him for his order. After he was done paying, you returned him his change and gave the receipt before telling him to wait at the collection point. You made the drink exactly how you would make it for yourself. Smiling happily upon seeing your creation being prepared for not yourself, but this time for a customer.

After you had sprinkled the strawberry powder on top of the foam surface, you took the lid and secured it close before you went to the collection point and called out softly.

“Strawberry Latte for Sunwoo.”

He walked forwards as he took the cup, not forgetting to give you a smile.

“Thank you-” His eyes darted towards your name tag pinned to your apron before he looked back at you. “...(Y/N)”

You bowed to him slightly as you watched him leave the café. After he left, he didn’t forget to spare a quick glance into the café, only to see your smile soon disappeared. Replacing it with a small pout when you let out a sigh. Sunwoo chuckled as he continued walking to campus that was just 2 blocks away.

For some reason, he couldn’t stop thinking about you even after he made it to his first lecture. The small smile gracing on his lips didn’t go unnoticed by his friends as Kevin began to nudge Sunwoo’s elbow the minute he came to sit beside the former.

“Aye, why are you smiling like an idiot huh?” Kevin asked.

“Maybe he just sniffed a smiling gas.” Younghoon said.

“What the hell is that?” Jacob asked.

“I was being sarcastic you nimrod.” Younghoon said, making the former one growl.

“I’ll tell you guys later.” Sunwoo said as he couldn’t wipe the smile off his face.

2 hours passed and they were now heading to the food hall in the main building, when Hyunjae slings his arm over Sunwoo’s shoulder.

“So? Why were you smiling all morning today?” He asked, causing the rest to focus their gazes on him as Sunwoo sighed knowing he couldn’t run away now.

“Ahh, it’s nothing… I went to get my morning coffee and there was this really cute barista who attended to me. That’s all.”

A series of “ooh”s were heard as the boys got noisier by the second.

“Jeez, can y’all shut up? You’re embarrassing me.” Sunwoo said as he quickened his pace, only for Younghoon to grab hold of his backpack and pulled him back.

“Oh please, you should be thankful we even gave reactions to what you say.” Younghoon said, making Sunwoo scoff.

A few weeks later, you were just handing a customer her plate of pasta and a cappuccino at one of the tables when you heard the doorbell chime. The customer you were attending to, thanked you for bringing her orders to her, smiling and replied to her.

“Your welcome. Enjoy your food.”

With that, you began to walk back to the front counter when you saw a group of guys gathered in front of the cashier. Right when you were just about to walk past them to head behind the counter, one of them glanced towards his right only to lock eyes with you. It was Sunwoo. The same regular customer that came every morning before his classes. The same guy who you may or may not have a tiny crush on.

The moment you locked eyes, you could feel your heartbeat stop for just a millisecond later as he flashed you a soft smile. This was enough to make you blush as you smiled back to him shyly before quickly making your way behind the counter.

“Oh great, you’re back. Help me take their order will you? I have to prepare the delivery ones.” Kihyun said simply. You were about to protest but you had no choice since the other part timer was on his lunch break.

So you nodded defeatedly before you returned the tray back at the collection point before you went back to the cashier, only to see Sunwoo standing there alone.

“Hey.” Sunwoo said as his lips began to tug upwards.

“Hey. What can I get you today?” You asked with a shy smile. Your voice sounded much softer than usual. You didn’t miss the little chuckle that left his lips before he spoke up.

“There’s gonna be a bit more than one order today.”

“I can see that.” You joked.

“Can I get one regular iced mocha, two regular double chocolate frappe, one small iced americano, one regular iced vanilla latte, and my usual please.”

You keyed in his orders as he spoke, only for you to look back up at him to confirm if that was all he wanted. Sunwoo gave you a firm nod, proceeding to charge him for the orders and soon told him to have a seat, you will call out to him once the drinks are ready. Sunwoo nodded as he left, not forgetting to smile at you for the umpteenth time that day.

You soon came beside Kihyun and started to make the drinks. Sunwoo on the other hand, immediately got dragged down into his seat by Kevin when they began to make comments about you.

“You were right, they’re hella cute!” Kevin said.

“Do you think they’re attached?” Younghoon asked.

“I don’t know. I mean, they’re quite cute. It’s impossible they’re single.” Sangyeon shrugged.

“Not all good looking people are attached. Even some normal looking ones are attached. We can’t just judge from their looks.” Sunwoo said defensively, only for Changmin and Haknyeon to smirk.

“Or are you just saying that because you want them to be single?” Changmin said, causing the rest of them to agree teasingly.

“Whatever, they wouldn’t date someone like me anyway.” Sunwoo said.

Not long after he finished his sentence, your voice echoes around the café walls as you called his name.

“Drinks for Sunwoo.”

With that, Sunwoo got up and soon jogged his way to the collection point, only to find you standing behind the counter with the tray in hand. You smiled as you pushed the tray gently towards him.

“Be careful. It’s heavy.” You warned.

“Don’t worry.” Sunwoo said, couldn’t help but smile at him.

He soon came back to their table and distributed the drinks. Almost half an hour had passed, they were just talking about random topics when Sunwoo happened to glance towards the counter. Seeing you laugh at something your manager said.

He didn’t realize he was smiling until Sangyeon spoke up. “Sunwoo yah, if they make your heart flutter that much, why don’t you just go there and ask them out?”

Sunwoo whips his head to Sangyeon, almost pulling a muscle while doing that.

“What?! N-No!”

“Why not?”

“The last time I asked someone out, I got turned down harshly in front of everyone. I couldn’t sleep for days!”

“Sunwoo yah, you’re just thinking too much. Just try and ask them out. Who knows they’ll accept?” Haknyeon asked.

“I don’t wanna risk it.” Sunwoo said. Glancing back to the front counter.

“Why must I have a crush on the cutest barista working just two blocks away from campus?” Sunwoo thought to himself as he gently shook his head and went back into the conversation with the guys.

A few minutes passed, some of them were discussing their project work while some were doing their own stuff when Sunwoo saw you left the counter only to walk towards an empty table near the back of the café. Since the café was not so packed, Kihyun told you to eat at one of the tables. So as to not feel cramped in the back room.

You had a transparent cup filled with what seems to be strawberry latte and a plate of sandwich. Sunwoo was caught staring by his friends as Younghoon nudged his arm to gain his attention.

“This is your chance to talk to them.”

Sunwoo saw some of them nod in agreement as he glanced back at you who was just taking a bite of the sandwich while scrolling through your phone.

With much motivation, he finally got up and made his way towards your table. You were just looking at your Instagram feed when you saw a figure come to a stop on the opposite side of your table.

You looked up to see Sunwoo standing there with a nervous smile as he spoke up. “Do you need some company?” He asked. You giggled, locking your phone screen and soon placed it face down on the table.

“Sure, that would be great.” You said. He pulled the chair out and soon took a seat.

“You’re just having that for lunch?” He asked curiously as he looked at the plate in front of you.

“Mmm.”

“Is that enough to fill you for the rest of your shift?” He asks, genuinely concerned at how little you ate.

“Yeap! Don’t worry. I always get something heavy to eat before my night classes.”

Sunwoo paused only to raise his eyebrows in confusion.

“Night classes?”

“I’m a part time student at Yonsei U. That’s why I’m a full timer here.”

“Wow… Are you able to cope with work and study at the same time?”

“It can be tiring and mentally exhausting sometimes but I persevere.”

Sunwoo was shocked at this new information but nonetheless gave you some comforting words to help cheer you on. “That’s… a lot to take in. I hope you don’t stress yourself out too much. Please get some rest and don’t overwork yourself.”

You hadn't seen this side of him before but it was very sweet of him to even say all those things to you. You ended up chatting for a bit, only for you both to find out that he was a student at Hankuk U, you were the same age, you both loved sushi and many more.

Your lunch break was ending soon but you were dreading to say goodbye. “Well, it was really nice talking to you Sunwoo, but I’m afraid my break time’s almost over.”

You pouted sadly, only for him to chuckle.

“Do you have class tonight?”

You nodded.

“Hmm, don’t worry okay? I’ll see you tomorrow morning.” Sunwoo said, making you giggle at his disclaimer.

The both of you got up only for him to speak up.

“My friends and I are leaving soon too. I’ll see you tomorrow. Take care, don’t forget to eat before you head to class!” He reminded you. Not forgetting to give him a nod.

A few days later, you had just ended your night class and you were almost burned out for the day, you could barely keep your eyes open. Only for your phone to ring. It was Eric.

“Hello?” You said into the line.

“Hey! Are you finished with class?”

“Yeah. I’m heading down now. Where are you?”

“At the parking lot. Me and Chanhee hyung decided to wait for you today.”

With that being said, you gasped lightly, unable to digest this information.

“Wha- Eric are you serious? You didn’t have to- omg.”

“No, it’s fine! Besides, me and hyung needed to discuss something anyway. Meet us at the parking lot okay?”

Before you could reply, he already hung up the call, making you sigh. You felt bad for making them wait for you since it was already half past 10 at night. But then again, they did it out of their own will. You arrived at the parking lot, only to see Chanhee and Eric leaning against the side of Chanhee’s car amongst a few other vehicles left just chatting away while waiting for you.

Just then, Eric glanced towards the entrance, only to see a very tired you dragging your feet towards them. You could barely open your eyes as you held onto your bag strap for your dear life. Right when you had just arrived in front of them, your vision blacked out, feeling your head pound against your skull. You let out a soft groan, falling forwards, just in time for Eric to catch you.

“Woah, are you okay?” He asked worriedly as Chanhee and him exchanged glances to one another.

“Mmm, y-yeah… I just blacked out for a bit.” You said, only to hear Chanhee sigh.

“How many times must we tell you not to overwork yourself and get some sleep?” Chanhee said.

“I did sleep...” You tried to defend yourself, but they knew you better than you know yourself.

“How many hours did you sleep last night?” Eric asked as he narrowed his eyes at you questioningly. You avoided their piercing gazes by answering their question in a hushed tone.

“An hour and a half.”

With that, your two friends let out a heavy sigh as Eric looked disappointed in his friend. It wasn’t because he was mad at you, it was because he was growing more and more concerned over your sleeping patterns and your health. You weren't just schooling, you were working as well so it would only be right if you maintained a healthy sleeping pattern and a balanced work/study time.

“That’s it. You’re coming home with me. I’m gonna make sure you get that sleep you so well deserved.” Chanhee said as Eric nodded in agreement.

“What? No, I’m fine. Okay, I promise I’ll sleep tonight.” You said.

“Yeah right.”

“You don’t trust me?” You asked with a pout.

“On this? No, I don’t.” With that, you scoffed as you knew you couldn’t fight back with them. So with that being said, you ended up following Chanhee to his apartment since he lived alone. Once you were back at Chanhee’s place, he told you to wash up. He let you borrow a loose shirt and sleeping shorts.

He told you to sleep in his bed and that he could take the couch. At first you rejected it, saying you could sleep on the couch but he refused.

Chanhee purposely placed your bag in the living room so that you couldn’t sneakily stay up all night and worked on your assignment. Chanhee’s body clock was never normal to begin with but to him, your sleeping pattern was more important than his.

Hence, the reason why he was still awake at 3am, watching the live broadcast of the World Cup. He was trying so hard to keep quiet to avoid waking you up as he eagerly watched the tournament. Just then, he thought he heard soft whimpers in his head.

“What the-” He mumbled to himself as he continued watching the game.

Just then, the whimper sounded again and it was a lot more distinct this time. With that, he lowered down the volume just to see if that sound would appear again. Not long after, he heard the whimper again and it seemed to have come from his hallway.

Chanhee got up immediately as he went to his bedroom, opening the door gently.

That’s when he saw you shifting uncomfortably in your sleep. He approached you in a rush as he saw you clutching onto the blanket against your chest as you had a frown on your face.

You were mumbling something in your sleep but he couldn’t really catch what you said.

“(Y/N)? Hey wake up.” Chanhee said softly as he placed a hand on your shoulder and lightly shook it. It took him 3 tries to finally get you awake when you jolted forward. Your breathing was heavy as you sat there with cold sweat running down the side of your face.

“It’s okay (Y/N), you’re okay. I’m here. It’s just a nightmare.” He comforted you while grabbing a handful of his shirt.

He pulled you into a hug, feeling your body shiver. They stayed like that for a while, only for him to tuck you back in bed. He pushed your hair away from your face as he looked down at you gently with a soft smile.

“Goodnight (Y/N).”

“Goodnight Chanhee.”

He was about to walk away when you grabbed his hand.

“Thank you… for everything.”

Chanhee could only smile, gently caressing the back of your hand with his thumb and soon spoke up.

“Get some rest, (Y/N).” You nodded only to let go of his hand. You fell back asleep a few seconds after as he went back to the living room, only to turn off the television and went to sleep himself.

It has been 4 months since Sunwoo first came to the café and you've gotten a lot closer than before.

However, Sunwoo still has yet to ask you out on a date.

It was a chilly Wednesday afternoon and both Chanhee and Eric promised to visit you after their lecture. The time was 35 minutes past 2 and the two guys had just entered the café, settling themselves into one of the empty tables beside the glass window after they ordered their drinks.

After making their drinks, you made your own drink and took one of the sandwiches from the fridge. Making your way to them for your lunch break.

“Hey guys, one iced mocha and one iced matcha latte for the two sweetest guys I’m lucky to have as friends.” You said, causing the two boys to smirk.

“Just friends?” Eric teased.

“Best friends.” You corrected yourself, only for Chanhee to laugh at Eric’s pained reaction.

“Ouch, never thought I’d be friend zoned this quick.”

You found yourself giggling as you spoke up to comfort your friend while you took a seat beside him.

“I love you, Eric ah.”

He couldn’t find himself being angry at you as he immediately melted and soon became a giggling mess. You were just chatting away, gossiping about the same stuck up girl in their class who keeps acting as if everyone was head over heels for when they’re actually not.

Just then, a familiar voice calls out to Chanhee and Eric from a distance behind you making your heart skip a beat.

“Hey! Hyung! Eric ah!”

Chanhee glanced past your shoulder while Eric turned to look over his own shoulder before they smiled widely and waved eagerly to whoever was behind you.

“That voice…” You whispered under your breath, only to slowly turn around. That’s when you saw Sunwoo walking up to your table along with his usual group of friends. However, you didn’t miss the look on Sunwoo’s face when he locked eyes with you. He was definitely surprised but also confused as to why you were seated with his friends.

“Oh? It’s the cute barista!” Juyeon said innocently. Flashing them a bashful smile. Just then, both Chanhee and Eric turned to look at each other simultaneously only for them to look at you and spoke up in unison.

“You’re the cute barista Sunwoo’s been talking about?!”

With that, Sunwoo gestured a punch to them signalling them to keep quiet. Only for him to look at you and ask.

“You know them?”

You could only nod as you told him the truth.

“I’ve known them since college.”

The rest of the boys gasped at the newly profound information. They couldn’t believe you were mutual friends with Chanhee and Eric. The 12 of you ended up sitting in two separate tables side by side whilst Chanhee and Eric began to spill the tea about Sunwoo.

“I can’t believe he’s been talking about you all these while.” Eric said.

“If I had known sooner, I would have set you two up on a date.” Chanhee said, causing you to glance at Sunwoo who was sitting opposite you. You cleared your throat and glanced down at your wrist watch before you got up abruptly to avoid any more awkward conversations.

“Oh look, my break time is ending. Nice talking to you guys. Thanks for visiting me today, my babies. More cakes for you? Yes? Okay.” You said in a rush. Quickly leaving the table, earning a laugh from the guys. Thinking that your actions are cute.

“Sunwoo, you really have a good taste don’t you?” Eric teased, making Sunwoo throw a tissue paper packet to Eric’s face, catching the poor boy by surprise.

You were in the back room, having a short break when your co-worker, Mingi called for you from the door.

“(Y/N), somebody wants to talk to you. He said he’s a friend of yours?” Mingi said, making you hum in confusion but nonetheless left the back room.

Only to be met with Sunwoo standing at the collection point.

“Sunwoo?”

“Hey, umm, I was wondering… Are you… free, this weekend?” You found yourself blushing as you tried to come up with a quick response.

“Uhh yeah. Yeah, I’m free.” Sunwoo didn’t expect you to say yes so quickly but it definitely made him feel slightly happy that he didn’t get rejected.

“Great. Umm, I’ll pick you up at 8?”

“Okay.” You smiled genuinely.

“Okay… Well, I uhh, better get going. Bye (Y/N). See you.” He said shyly, his ears starting to burn red.

“See you Sunwoo.” You said, only for him to quickly leave before his whole tomato head explodes.

Weekends finally came and it was already 30 minutes past 7 and you were struggling to find a nice outfit to wear. You didn’t know exactly where he was taking you, all he said was to wear nicely. You were nervous to say the least. You haven't been on a date in like what? 2 years?

Ever since your last date where you got stood up, you decided not to go on any more blind dates. You would rather stay single for the rest of your life than being played with and getting your heart broken again and again.

Sunwoo texted you a few minutes later saying he was downstairs so you replied by saying you’ll be down in a minute. You soon left your apartment and locked the doors before heading down the corridor towards the lift lobby. Once you were at ground level, you made your way out, only to see Sunwoo leaning against his car door.

The minute he noticed your figure walking towards him, he looked up only to give you a one over. You stopped a few feet in front of him with a shy smile as he spoke up.

“Wow, you look really stunning.”

“Thank you. You look dashing.” You giggled.

Sunwoo was wearing a dark blue button down shirt tucked into his black denim skinny jeans, a pair of black sneakers and a few stainless steel accessories. He recently dyed his hair to a deep berry colour. He soon opened the door for you. Getting in before he walked over to the driver seat. Once he was in, he buckled his seatbelt and started his car engine.

“Where are we going?” You asked.

“It’s a surprise.” Sunwoo said with a cheeky smile as you could feel your heartstrings pull.

The drive to the destination wasn’t as long as you thought, maybe because the journey was filled with jokes and laughter every now and then. Before you knew it, he finally pulled into a parking lot at what seems to be an outdoor movie theatre.

“Sunwoo yah… This is…” You paused as you got out of the car while he reached over to the back seat to take the blanket he brought to lay it down on the grass. He came back to your side after locking his car, only for you to continue from where you left off.

“So cute. How did you even find out about this outdoor movie?”

He smiled as you both began to walk towards the open space where quite a lot of couples were already seated down on their own blankets.

“My friend told me about this when he went on a date with his girlfriend the other day. So I figured why not give it a try.” Sunwoo said, making you blush.

You managed to find an empty space so he laid down the blanket and soon sat down. While waiting for the movie, you talked about almost anything. The movie soon started as everyone was starting to get excited. Halfway through the beginning of the movie, you were sitting beside Sunwoo with your legs extended out in front of you.

The night slowly got breezy, feeling the cool air blowing on you softly. Just then, he saw you straightening your posture, rubbing your arms to keep yourself warm. He felt bad that he couldn’t give you his jacket since he didn’t wear any.

However, an idea flashed across his mind, making him turn to you to speak.

“Hey, are you cold?” He asked. You turned to him with a small smile before you answered.

“Yeah, but it’s fine. It’s just a little chilly, that’s all.” Sunwoo wasn’t convinced as he saw your teeth clattering, making him chuckle softly.

“You know, I heard from somewhere that close body contact can keep us warm.” Sunwoo suggests indirectly to you, turning your head to him to see a playful smile on his lips.

You giggled as you looked at him with your brows raised.

“Are you okay with it?”

“If I wasn’t, I wouldn’t suggest it would I?” He asked, causing you to mentally facepalm at your ridiculous self.

“Right. You have a point.”

You heard him chuckle when he pat the empty spot in between his legs, gesturing for you to come over.

“C’mere.” He said.

Once you have settled down between his legs, you feel him wrap his arms around your body, trapping your arms. Gently pressing your back against his chest. Warmth immediately engulfing you both as you snuggled deeper into his chest.

“Warm enough?” He asked, only for you to nod.

You stayed like that for the rest of the movie. Sacrificing his back if it meant keeping you warm throughout the 1 and a half hours of the movie.

After the movie ended, you went to get supper before he sent you home. You agreed to let him walk you all the way to your door. Hence, the reason why you were now standing outside your apartment door. You unlocked the door but then turned around to face him.

“Thank you for today Sunwoo. It was a fun experience watching a movie outdoors for the first time under the starry night.” You said as he smiled.

“I’m glad you liked it…”

“I hope we can do something like this again soon.” At that being said, his ears perked up, staring at you in awe.

“A-Again? Does that mean…?” He paused, causing you to giggle.

“Yes. I’d love to go on a date with you again.”

Sunwoo couldn’t contain his excitement as he smiled from ear to ear, his adorable toothy grin made your heart skip a few beats. He elicited a soft giggle, biting his lip to stop himself from smiling too much.

Just then, you decided to take it upon yourself by pressing a soft kiss onto his cheek. Sunwoo was frozen in place as you smiled up to him endearingly before you bid him goodbye. You quickly entered your apartment to hide your flushed face when you could feel the embarrassment starting to creep up on you. You leaned against the door. Trying to steady your heartbeat.

After what felt like forever, you finally pushed yourself off the door and was about to walk deeper into your apartment when there was a knock.

You turned around to open it and you were greeted by Sunwoo again, seeming he finally came into senses.

Without any words exchanged, he took one quick step forward, reaching up to cup your face with one hand before he gently pressed his lips against yours. You melted almost immediately when you felt him smile into the kiss. Sunwoo could feel his heart get weaker, snaking one hand around your waist while pulling you closer to him.

Your hands rested on his chest as he pulled away with a soft sound, only for you to keep your gaze on his collarbone. Too shy to look at him in the eye.

Sunwoo gently took your chin in between his thumb and index finger. Tilting your head up, making you lock eyes with him.

“I’m pretty sure that just proves to you how I feel about you, but I still wanna tell you in words. I really, really like you. And I would love to take you out on more dates and be able to call you mine.”

With his cute confession, you couldn’t help but giggle. Wrapping your arms around his neck before you spoke up.

“I like you too Sunwoo. And yes, I would love to go on dates with you, and for you to call me yours.” With that being said, Sunwoo smiled in victory. Kissing you again sweetly.

The next day, you broke the news to your friends as you got happy cheers and excited screams in the group chat. Sunwoo never thought he would date anyone after being rejected multiple times but maybe he was fated to meet you and be the person who orders the same drink every time at the café you worked in. Maybe now he could finally live his love life with more cuddles and Strawberry Lattes.

#the boyz scenarios #the boyz imagines #tbz scenarios #kim sunwoo #sunwoo fluff #tbz fluff #sunwoo scenarios #kim sunwoo scenario #the boyz #sunwoo imagines #tbz sunwoo

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shinkun · 4 years ago

Text

bloom: part 1/2 (18+)

aizawa shouta | eraserhead x student!reader

[ read part 2 here ]

word count: 3.4k

genre: alpha/omega, omegaverse, m/f, afab reader, student/teacher, smut with little plot

A late-blooming student finds herself trapped in the school, yearning for someone to ease her unfamiliar, painful urges.

warnings: 18+, smut, oral, fingering, cunnilingus

notes: Hello, just as a warning, this is my first time in many years posting any written work so I'm pretty rusty and self-conscious about it (please be gentle!) Also - my first time doing any form of a/b/o, so I hope it's okay!

Aizawa just released something feral in me that made me want to write a lengthy, lusty fiction about him.

This is Part 1 of 2 of this fiction. I wanted to see if there was any reception or interest in this piece before sharing the final part.

All characters are 18+. Reader is a mature student presumably finishing her final semester of school, or attending an extra year.

Anyway, please enjoy!

- - - - -

Aizawa gave a hefty groan, pinching the skin on the bridge of his nose. A nagging stress entered the back of his mind as he proceeded to the opposite side of the door.

When your classmate had cornered him in his office earlier, wailing about how “Y/N doesn’t want to come out! She said she feels too sick to go to practice!” He already knew what he was in for.

“Alright, I’ll go see what's wrong…” Aizawa nonchalantly replied, waving the boy away. “Go outside and start without her.” He commanded, not letting him get another word in. The student gave a compliant but nervous nod before exiting the room.

The professor let out a sigh, perking his ear up to the door. He hesitantly raised his knuckles up to the surface, knocking on it with little force, but enough that it could be heard from the other side. He held his breath for a moment. A sweet, tantalizing scent crept from beneath the barrier between him and his student.

“Don’t come in!!” Shouted a voice laced with panic in reply to the knock.

“Don’t worry, it’s me.” Aizawa said, lowering his palm to the handle of the locker room. He didn’t need to speak his name for you to know. He was patient, letting you bask in the silence for a moment. The scent emitting from the room made a couple beads of sweat roll down the back of his neck, but he was able to shake it off.

“I can’t let you.. see me like this…” Your tone was shaky and barely audible, but he’d caught it.

“I can help you.” He persisted to push the handle downward.

The bond you’d grown with your teacher in your three years at UA was strong and trusting. You knew that any advice he was willing to offer you would be right. He was always right. You were happy to have a mentor so willing to sacrifice his time and listen to you when you needed it, and this was no exception.

Aizawa delicately pushed the door open, only an inch into it before the odor was able to escape, already knocking him back; angelic, rosey scents filling his nostrils. Saliva pooled underneath the back of his tongue as he took the fragrance in. He shut his eyes and let out another soft huff before propping the door open with one foot. He could sense your panic rising as he shuffled forward.

“...I promise you’ll be okay.” He assured you, his hand curling around the frame. He continued to stay cautious and non-threatening, making sure you had enough time to prepare for his entry.

“I don’t want you to see me so..” you hesitated, attempting to stiffen a cry building up in your throat, “..weak.” The word rolled off your tongue like it was filth.

Aizawa entered the room, seemingly unphased by the aura of hormones that was now engulfing him. He gently let the door slide closed behind him, carefully locking it for any students that dared to interrupt them. A small but caring smirk graced his face as he looked before him.

He saw you curled up in the back corner of the changeroom, sitting on a bench with your knees tucked into your chest. You held the bunched up top to your gym uniform, hugging it to the flushed skin of your torso for safety, your chest covered only by a tightly binding sports bra. You sunk your head down, trying not to make eye contact with the teacher as he proceeded forward. He gingerly perched himself on the bench next to you, leaving a comfortable amount of space, before bending forward to look at you.

“Hey..” His hair curtained around his face as he leaned forward, softly cupping the opposite side of your face in his hand. He pulled your head over to look at him. The unexpected touch made you squirm, squeezing your eyes closed, but you refused to fight his caress. “You’re the strongest person I know.” His thumb massaged your cheek up and down. Your bottom lip quivered, still attempting to fight the surge of emotions that were coursing through you as you finally met his gaze. Your eyes brimming with tears, making your vision blurry, as you continued to choke them back. It was simple, but his words meant a lot.

You and him both knew that you had a complicated relationship with your femininity. You saw it as a burden, getting in the way from people taking you seriously. You blocked it out in any way you could, to reflect a more intimidating, headstrong persona. Focusing on close-combat studies and fighting techniques, convincing the staff to let you wear the boy’s uniform, attending all the extra curricular sporting events - the reason you were even here on a weekend to begin with. It wasn’t just a means of coming off as adrogynous though, you genuinely enjoyed these things.

“How can I be strong if I’m...” You looked away, afraid that admitting you were an Omega out loud would somehow make it worse. You didn’t want to come to terms with it.

“...C’mere kid.” He removed his hand from your face while straightening up, leaning his back against the wall behind him. His arm raised, placing it on your shoulder to pull you into his chest for a gentle embrace.

You’d been close to Aizawa before, but never anything like this. Playful jabs here and there, sarcastic shoves in the hallway, there was even that time he had to step in to use his binding cloth to stop you from beating on some punk that made fun of your quirk - but this tender feeling he was sharing was a whole new territory.

You took it in, allowing some of the pent up tears to escape from your eyes. A quiet sob forced itself out of your throat, your body vibrating with each cry. Aizawa rubbed your back, slowly, carefully, letting you bask in the feelings. The fear that you had reverberated throughout the room was beginning to subside, and he could tell. You laid against the man in silence for a moment, the heavy thumping of his heart lulling your anxieties. You breathed in gradually, putting your sniveling to rest, but as you did, you noticed something off.

A flush of red emanated from your face as your nose raised slightly gravitating toward Aizawa’s head. A waft of strong musk filled your senses. It was savory, and heavy, and…“Hnghh.” A breathy sigh escaped your mouth as your hand gripped the fabric of the teacher’s shirt. You had little control over your next movement, stretching forward to nuzzle your face against his neck, taking in as much of the aroma as you could. Now that you’d let your defenses down, Aizawa's dominant atmosphere was beginning to encapsulate you.

“Whoa there.” He let out a chuckle but continued to let you explore, eventually expecting this kind of reaction to his presence. He gracefully shifted his hand, placing it above your hip, both to keep you stable as you moved, and to give him the pleasure of being able to embrace the smooth, supple flesh.

“I’m...sorry..” You said, beginning to retreat from him as the realisation of what you were doing began to sink in. “Oh, oh no.. I’m sorry..!” Your heart fluttered as you pulled back to your safe spot on the bench.

He gave his head a shake and continued to give you your space. “No need to be sorry.” He assured you, scratching the back of his head. His voice was tender and dreamy to your ears, it sent goosebumps down your arms. Suddenly sitting in a lecture just to listen to your teacher’s dark, gritty voice rant about hero politics sounded appealing. Admittedly this brief embrace made the resistance to act on his urges much harder than before, but he persisted.

Suddenly you let out an aching gasp. You pulled your body toward yourself, your arm reaching around your abdomen as you felt that intense pressure building up inside your gut again, tinges of pain and aching threatening your core. You’d felt this earlier when you had the room to yourself. It made you hot, your breath beginning to pick up as your body reeled in a feverish sweat. You didn’t want him to see you like this and now that your guard was down, it was taking control.

“Hurt…. it hu..rts..” You managed to spit out. Shouta cocked his head to the side.

“Is this your first time..?” He planted his hand on your back once more, making sure you knew his company was welcoming. All you could do was let out a quick nod. You squeezed your legs together, feeling an intense heat present itself in your center, your gasps becoming more hefty and impossible to contain.

“Wow, a late bloomer.” Aizawa strategically pondered for a moment, “Well, I should go inform Recovery Girl of how you’r-”

“..No!” You cut him off before he could finish, a tremble in your voice. “Please, can you...” Embarrassment took over causing your speech to trail off, your arm shakely reaching out and clenching around the sleeve beside his hand. Your desires were continuing to take hold and Aizawa’s scent was becoming more and more irresistible as time went on, “..can you help me?”

The edge of his mouth curled up into a smile, disguising itself behind his shield of dark locks. Just as he’d expected.

Now, this wasn’t his first time dealing with a student in heat. Although the population of Omegas was on the lower side, there had been a few students in his years of teaching that had to get medicated and sent home for a few days to deal with their inflamed, unpredictable hormones. And professors, especially Alpha professors, were instructed on the responsibility of containing those natural urges and how to offer students help when they were in their most vulnerable state.

He did genuinely want to help. Seeing your pleas to get rid of this nasty heat made his heart ache and he didn’t want to deny you the option for any outside aid, but he knew you would place trust in him and he was willing to offer it.

Without answering Aizawa leaned forward. He curled his other hand up behind your head, letting his fingers trail through your hair to embrace your scalp. Immediately a shiver fell down your spine as he bent over you; first planting a kiss on your forehead, then he trailed downward, peppering a couple kisses on your tear-stained cheek. The weight of your head cradled into his hand as he continued, his mouth trailing down the length of your neck, his tongue messaging down the length of your skin. Your breathing increased as you let out a cute whimper, your core pulsated. He then paused just above your shoulder, letting in a deep inhale. Your scent was enchanting, sweet, and made his head spin. He dared to let his teeth graze that special spot, smirked, and then placed one final peck there before abruptly pushing his mouth against yours. You immediately felt a rush of heat rise into your stomach as his lips collided with yours. They were so soft and experienced, but juxtaposed by the rough facial hair that scraped against your chin.

Even though it was you who’d requested it, you were having a tough time wrapping your head around the order of events that lead you here. Finding it difficult to reciprocate the kiss, he began to ease his tongue inside your mouth. Your eyebrows raised, but eyes remaining sealed shut as the twitching muscle explored your mouth, the roughness of his flesh against yours causing you to feel slick drip between your thighs.

You pulled your mouth away releasing an overwhelmed heave, a string of saliva still leaving you connected to the man.

His eyes furrowed, a worrying expression plastered his face making sure you were okay.

“..I forgot to...breathe.” A rosy tint burned your cheeks before you both let out a small chuckle that eased the tension. He then placed his forehead against yours.

“Keep going..?” At this point he was probably too far gone but he thought he’d at least give you the false sense of reassurance.

Despite the flustering heat that Aizawa stirred into you from his kisses, the pain in your curve was urging on to the point of becoming unbearable. Your hands trembled but quickly grabbed his chest to pull him back into the embrace. He took this as a ‘yes’ and fell back into the deep kiss, proceeding to cup his hand around your left breast. He kneaded the bosom in his hand before trailing his mouth down your neck once again, this time pulling and suckling at the skin, leaving playful little bites - but not enough to bruise. His hands trailed down to the edge of your bra. You bit down on your lip as he yanked it upward and over your head.

A nearly inaudible “Wow..” escaped from his mouth as he leaned back to take your figure in, not sure if it was meant for your ears to hear. Your defenseless upper half was paler than usual and coated with a perspiring sheen due to your sickly urges.

“Don’t stare..” You grumbled, refusing to meet his eyes as his hand regained its place against your chest. He was shocked you were able to contain them within the bounds of a thin fabriced sports bra all the time, let alone while they were aching and swelling from your heat. You did a very good job of keeping it that way.

He smirked once more before lowering his head, taking the erect pink bud between his lips, lapping his tongue over it again and again. You shuddered as he sucked it into his mouth, his opposite hand fondling the other. But no matter how much he kissed and caressed your shivering body, it wasn’t satisfying the heavy hunger sweltering in the pits of your core. “Please..” You whined above his head, frustratingly clenching your fingers into your palms, “Mister Aizawa, please...I can’t wait anymore.”

Aizawa pulled his mouth away, nuzzling his face between your chest for just a moment before raising back up.

“Soon.” He simply but firmly stated, pulling his binding cloth above his head and tossing it to the floor, making sure it wouldn’t get in the way.

He then bent down, wrapping his arm around the calves of your legs and pulling them onto the wide bench. He moved his own leg over the opposite side of the bench so that it was now in between him.

“Now,” he looked as you impatiently quivered, trailing his intense stare down your body, “What’s the damage?” You let out an offended huff at his wording, but held your complaints in. You figured any sort of noncompliance would lead you to a one-way trip to the medic.

Shouta really didn’t need to ask, but your fluster enticed him even more. The bottoms of your navy gym uniform had a dark patch stained through them long before the moment he’d entered, by this point it had traveled down your legs.

“Looks like we’re gonna have to find you another pair of those, huh?” He reached forward tracing his hands around the edges of the waistband before pulling the sweats down. You shifted as it tickled your sides. He then tossed them to the floor alongside his equipment.

Your hands reached up to cover your face as his gaze pierced through you. No matter how desperate you were to get some relief, you still couldn’t get past the vulnerability of being sprawled out in front of him like this, let alone, someone actually known for having a deeply intimidating stare.

He tenderly pulled one of your hands away, taking it in his own. This was the first time you’d really noticed how big his were in comparison, cupping around your delicate digits. He closed his eyes, leaving a few tender kisses inside your palm before deeply inhaling the aroma radiating from your wrist. He let it go and looked back, his palms now resting on your thighs, pushing them apart with a surprising amount of ease. You aligned yourself on the bench, propping your back against the wall.

Aizawa bowed over your lower half, leaning into the heat pulsating between your legs. He hadn’t even touched you before your heart began to race, your breath trailing close behind. Your anticipation for him made his heart melt but he couldn’t resist dragging this out for as long as he could. He wanted to make your first heat special for you - memorable - even.

It wasn’t long before Aizawa’s mouth was trailing up the length of your leg. The closer he got, the more unbearably hard it was to not just let his primal instincts take over and ravage your pretty, little entrance with his aching cock. No, Aizawa. He cursed at himself for even thinking that.

Shouta’s tongue danced up your thigh before hitting the edge of your drenched panties. He left soft little nips with his teeth in your thigh, leaving you breathless, before kissing the fabric. He nudged his nose against the surface of it, prodding your sensitive core before letting his tongue fall down its length, intentionally heaving his hot, eager breath against you. You let out a loud gasp that left you clutching your mouth. He smiled once more before taking the edges of the fabric between his fingers and pulling them down, finally revealing your throbbing, leaking pussy.

“Oh, sweetheart…” He sighed into you, sharing a few more kisses before sliding his tongue through those tender, pink folds. You cocked your head back gently scooching your hips towards him, your humiliation suddenly masked by your intense lust for the man.

Aizawa took in all the senses surrounding him. The delightful squeaks you made as he trailed his muscle along your slit, the delicious distinctly omega flavours that drenched his mouth, the way you convulsed and your knees buckled every time he slid his lips or nose against your sensitive, budding clit. He then pulled your legs over his shoulders, giving him more leverage to dive into you.

You reached your hand out as your gasps deepened, he looked up from you inquisitively before reaching his out in return. You laced your fingers between his, yearning for that simple grasp. You held on to it as a form of security, giving soft squeezes to the man every time it was too intense, or a loving stroke of your thumb against his skin when it was just right.

He narrowed his focus back on you, slowly bringing his other hand to your slit. While his tongue massaged your pulsating pearl, he sank two fingers deep inside your entrance. Unsurprisingly your hole was ready and more than willing to accept them. The amount of slick you’d produced was evident enough. You bit down on your lip and let out a whimper as he now began pumping you with his fingers alongside his mouth, your natural lubricant gliding down his hand.

Earlier you’d tried doing the same, attempting to satisfy your intense craving with masturbation alone, but it was never enough. Nothing felt like enough. But Aizawa’s fingers reached parts that you couldn’t, curling and prodding that sensitive area, hiding toward your stomach.

“God..” Your eyes rolled back as you bucked yourself against him, but you still yearned for more. “S...Sensei..” He could see you getting close, your little hand clenching in his own as he rhythmically persisted, your breaths more shaky and sporadic. “Shou..ta..!!” He loved the way his name rolled off your tongue, his cock twitching against his leg from the sound of it. He pulled his hand back and plunged his long fingers even harder and more vigorously, this time including a third. You let out a little shriek while he basically drowned amongst your tiny folds, his fingers driving into you at a steady cadence. He felt as your plush, sensitive walls tightened around his dexterous touch, quivering as you climaxed before him.

You gulped hard trying to let your mind catch up to your body, releasing a steady pant.

“That was great, kitten.” He gave your thigh one last kiss before raising up. “...You did so well.”

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capricorn-stark · 3 years ago

Text

Protégé

pairing: red hood!jason todd x robin!reader, slow burn

warning: swearing

a/n: for context, this is somewhat loosely based off of Battle for the Cowl (2009) which I definitely recommend as a read!

There was something about falling that you would never, ever get tired of.

Ever.

Probably.

With the wind whistling in your ears, your hair floating up in a million directions, and your limbs seemingly weightless as the buildings and lights blurred into one endless streak of color, the rush of adrenaline that ran through your body right before your grappling hook shot out and you landed quietly on the concrete was about a million times better than any sparring session back at the cave.

You grinned as you straightened, rather proud of the fact that you had actually managed to land so smoothly without nearly paralyzing yourself. Again.The landing was something you had been working on for a while now.

You could practically hear Bruce’s voice ringing through your head after your little stunt, lamenting on and on about how you had more important things to focus on during patrols, and you let out a sigh as you ran down the backway of the nearly empty streets.

The heavy man who had been bound up with a decently made gag and one of Bruce’s fancy tech pieces (Batcuffs, maybe? Something else with Bat smacked in front of it?) grunted beside you.

“What? Not like you had someplace to be.” You grabbed the back of his rather tacky-looking spandex suit to drag him along back to where your mentor was supposed to be.

Despite your (many) disagreements and his (many) criticisms of your hand-to-hand combat skills, attitude issues, and pretty much everything else relating to you, Bruce had actually still allowed you to go off on your own tonight. It might’ve been because he wanted a few hours of nothing but beating up petty criminals by himself for stress-relief, it might’ve been because he had started trying out that whole independence thing with you a little more (even though you were still only permitted to be about five blocks or so away), it might’ve been plot-convenience - but either way, you appreciated the gesture.

It didn’t take long for you to pull your new friend over to what should’ve been your rendezvous point with Batman, letting the man drop with a dull thud and a grunt of protest against the concrete as you glanced around for the other man. You weren’t particularly concerned by the fact that the Bat himself wasn’t there yet - after all, he was the goddamn Batman. He’d show up eventually. In the meanwhile, you decided to go over the information you had gotten on the criminal with you.

Just for the sake of it. Bruce would make you go over it anyways.

“Drury Walker, thirty-two years old, found him trying to mug someone in a back alley and make an escape. Called himself…” you paused, looking down at his sorry-looking outfit for a few moments while he looked up at you with murder and vengence in his eyes. “...Killer Moth.”

“Killer Moth?” A completely new voice repeated in disbelief, causing you to immediately whirl around to face them in a fight stance, heart racing at a million miles per hour. The guy in front of you had his hands up in the air, his face concealed with some sort of red knock-off Iron Man helmet. He was gonna get copyrighted by Marvel Studios. “Shit, sorry,” he started at the sight of you, still leaning up against one of the walls. “I was supposed to make a wholeass dramatic entrance, but you said his name was Killer Moth and that-” The man made a noise that was either a sharp cough or a laugh of some kind. “-sounded so fucking lame I couldn’t help myself.”

Despite the fact that you were definitely in some sort of major trouble with this new guy, he really did have a point. Even Killer Moth himself would’ve been embarrassed by how trash his name was, if not for the fact that he looked like he was on the verge of an aneurysm - understandably so, since the new guy had produced not one, but two guns out of apparently nowhere.

“And let me guess,” he continued, pointing one of them at your head, his tone still all-too light and easy. “You must be the Bat’s brand-new Robin.”

Now this is where most people would've shut up and proceeded to be complicit with the dude holding two guns. But Batman hadn’t seen reason and made you his (sort of) partner because you were like other people. Hell no.

“Do I look like a traffic signal to you?” It had been the very first of your amendments with Bruce. You would not be fighting crime looking like a literal traffic signal or, at best, a clown from Haly’s Circus. And the tiny green shorts had to go. “Or Robin Hood?” The guy had a rather awkward pause where his gun sort of dipped. Killer Moth was looking between you with wide eyes. “Do I?”

“I guess you kinda got a point.” You huffed and he raised his gun again, getting more in-your-face as his already angry-looking helmet somehow managed to look angrier. You weren’t exactly sure how a helmet could convey so much emotion. “But you work with Batman. And I heard you went by Robin.”

Okay, so you couldn’t make him change the name, but you had agreed it would be more of an honorary thing.

“It’s complicated.”

Using such a phrase as an excuse to escape from situations you didn’t want to go into was one of the many things you had learned from Bruce in your five months of training. Somehow, that seemed to trigger the guy further.

“So you do work with Batman.”

Before he could do something actually insane, you had managed to push the gun pointed at your head away from you, using his brief second of surprise to take it out of his hands, kick him in the chest, and round back on him with it in hand.

“And what about it?”

As cool as you thought you might’ve sounded didn’t cover for the fact that you were still nerve-wracked about what was happening right then. Especially after the guy started to dramatically slow-clap like some sort of evil thespian in a high school drama.

“Not bad, Robin. Not bad.” He looked at the gun in your hands and grinned. “If you weren’t Batman’s new replacement sidekick, I might’ve believed you had the balls to use that thing.”

Now, you were an excellent fighter. You had to be, after your excessive training with the guy who had literally mastered about every martial art in existence during his (give or take) five year-long mission to find himself. Plus, some personal experience. But fighting someone like this guy? Built like a tank and padded up in a whole lot of armor and packing an assortment of knives, guns, and even a damn taser you got a first-hand taste of?

You fought hard, but about five minutes and another round of the taser later, you saw the knock-off Iron Man helmet staring down at you before the world went black.

~*~

You woke up in what you assumed was the self-dubbed Red Hood’s safehouse of sorts.

“How the hell did he rope you into this shit?” he demanded with what you could only assume was him glaring at you through the helmet. Probably some expression that made someone look all angsty and annoyed - which was fair, since he had been trying to drill you for information you straight up refused to give while bound (way too tightly) to a chair for quite some time now. Rather rude. “Let me guess. You watched your parents die.” You stared at him before shrugging.

“Nope.”

“Oh, so they just went ahead and died somehow. Untimely accident caused by some psycho bitch in a Spirit Halloween costume.”

“…nope.”

“They abandoned you as a child.”

“No, they didn’t - does divorce count?”

Red Hoodlum’s hands kept clenching and unclenching while he stood there, staring at the wall behind you in silence. From the way his chest kept rising and falling, you were tempted to believe he was practicing breathing exercises amidst his rather violent twitching.

“Divorce - what the hell is your trauma supposed to be? Why did he pick you?!”

“Hey, just because my trauma doesn’t include people dying doesn’t make it any less traumatic,” you scoffed in response, knowing you were absolutely right about that. Your middle school guidance counselor had said so (and it’s true, ladies and gentlemen, trauma comes in many forms!). “Kinda rude to assume it didn’t affect me somehow.”

He seemed rather abashed at that and you heard him clear his throat a little.

“...right, yeah. Sorry.”

“Apology accepted - can you loosen these ropes a little? It’s starting to kinda hurt.”

“Do I look ten? That’s the oldest trick in the book, I’m not gonna-”

“I’m not going to run, just loosen the ropes a little.” He still looked like he didn’t believe you. “Come on, I don’t think I can outrun your guns.” As in his literal array of guns tacked up to the wall behind him, not his gigantic biceps.

And you weren’t too worried about being held hostage by him, either. You figured you had ten minutes tops before Batman burst in through the doorway, ready to give you a lecture on why straying from the specifically designated parts of Gotham he had let you traipse around was a terribly stupid idea.

“No.” He was already walking towards the door, because apparently, he had enough of trying to interrogate you.

“Hold on, I feel like my wrists are actually about to start bleeding or something - where are you going?”

“Keep talking and I’m gonna get the duct tape.”

“Is that a threat?” Sounding more confident than you actually felt should eventually make you more confident. Eventually.

The Red Hood sucked in a breath, stopping by the doorway and turning to face you, reaching into his pockets to get what you assumed was either a gun or duct tape when you both startled from a sudden crash. The man in front of you was already whirling around with two guns positioned to shoot when you heard the familiar voice of someone else.

“Hold your fire, soldier. I’m not here for you.” A pause. “Or I wasn’t, but now I kind of am.”

Apparently, Batman was too busy to save you. Now, you got Nightwing.

And as much as you liked Nightwing, that still kinda stung.

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attllhak · 3 years ago

Text

Surface Too Soon .3

@tortilla-of-courage @emenerd hey look it’s chapter 3. Two chapters in a day and I’m on a roll.

General warnings because Ghirahim is in this chapter and he’s, well, he’s Ghirahim. And he’s being creepy.

Anyways, enjoy! (And to Tortilla, sorry for torturing you with vague updates as I wrote. The boy is fine, just shaken up and scared.)

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

Chapter 3: On The Surface

Link did his best to swallow back every pained whimper as the strange woman ran her hands over his body. He still didn’t want to move, because ow, and it wasn’t like he was in a position to complain.

He’d already survived, which was more than he’d expected after he made it past the clouds.

He did end up crying out as she made it to his ankle, jerking it up away from her, sparking more pain along his leg and side.

She sat back, glaring at him slightly.

“Well, you’re not walking,” she huffed, glaring at the offending ankle, which was throbbing quite painfully. “I’ll need to actually be allowed to take a look at that to assess the damage,”

Link frowned at her, shifting his leg a bit further away.

This seemed to frustrate the woman further. “I am trying to help you. I can’t do that unless you let me.”

Link considered this, and considered the pain he was in, and then considered that, ulterior motives aside, he had no idea where he could find help without this woman. Slowly, because ow, he moved his leg back down to her.

He had to grit his teeth as she slid off his boot and sock to inspect his ankle, and then declared it not broken, but still very badly injured.

His ribs, it turned out, were broken in a few places. Which explains the crack he felt.

One of his shoulders had been dislocated, which the woman popped back into place, which was a LOT of ow.

Eventually, with a lot of complaining and pained noises and slow movements, she got Link sitting up against the sand he’d sid down. So he was still kinda laying down.

Which is when he finally got a look at his surroundings. Hard, red rock rose up all around him, the slope above and behind him was all loose sand, and some kind of thick, red liquid sloshed nearby, giving off heat.

“Who are you?” He asked, and filed away quickly that ow, talking hurts.

The woman looked at him, pausing from where she was using the fabric that had been covering her face to wrap his foot. She looked very annoyed for some reason he couldn’t identify.

Link didn’t know why he’d pissed her off by landing here, but he felt a bit bad for it.

“My name is Impa,” she said finally, turning back to his ankle. “I am a servant to the goddess Hylia, meant to protect the Spirit Maiden on her journey to fulfil her destiny,” she finished tying off the fabric and looked up to meet Link’s eyes. “You are not her,”

He lifted his good arm, since the other still hurt to move. “Is that why you’re mad at me?”

She frowned at him, like he wasn’t making sense.

“I’m sorry,” he said, hoping that would help.

This got him a glare.

“You do not need to apologize for not being who I was waiting for,” Impa told him bluntly. “I’m mad, but not at you. I’m mad because you shouldn’t be down here yet. I should be meeting the Spirit Maiden, not the Chosen Hero. Regardless, you are in no shape to fulfil your duty, and I see no sign of Her Grace arriving here. I’ll take you somewhere safer to heal, and we’ll talk more about your destiny then,”

Link had no idea what she meant by most of that, but it was nice to know she wasn’t mad at him.

He did make a few pained noises as she picked him up, balancing him in her arms.

Every movement as she carried him away from the heat and rocks was ow, ow, ow. He really was a giant bruise by now. Also ow.

The green that started popping up was awe inducing. Especially as there came more and more green. Link had never seen so much green before. And the trees! There were so many trees!

He probably should have paid more attention to where they were going, but he was too enthralled with his surroundings to care.

Which was when he noticed the tiny birds.

All thoughts of pain and worry were out the window at this discovery, and he all but begged Impa to stop and let him look at the tiny birds. She said later, and he tried pouting, which didn’t work, and then needled away until she agreed to bring him a tiny bird to hold when they stopped.

That had Link very excited.

Eventually, Link was set down on a very big plant, Impa called it a mushroom when he asked, and was told to stay put. Impa promised to bring him a tiny bird and some healing items.

Link, of course, did not stay put.

His right ankle couldn’t support his weight, so he ended up crawling around instead, doing his best to keep his weight off his left arm.

When Impa got back and finally found him, he was lying on his stomach and chatting with a small creature he met called a kikwi, who was also face down on the ground.

Impa was not pleased in the least.

He drank the potion she brought him, and even got to hold one of the tiny birds after he’d done so. It felt so small and fragile in his hands, and it was so cute. Even his new kikwi friend stood up to also coo over the tiny bird with him.

Machi didn’t understand why Link was so fascinated with the bird, but Machi also was a bit confused by the whole ‘came from the sky thing’, so Link didn’t hold it against him.

Impa just seemed frustrated with him, proceeding to lecture him about why laying on his stomach was bad for his ribs and how he was just going to hurt himself more. Something about pressure on the breaks or whatever.

Link was only about half listening to her. Oh he was trying to pay attention to what she was saying, of course he was. He always got in trouble in class for not focusing, and he knew it was even more important to focus on what she was telling him down here, with so many unknowns.

But, there was just so much happening around him! The trees here were HUGE! And there were so many new kinds of plants! And what even was a mushroom and were they all that big? And the little bird was falling asleep in his hands, which was adorable, and there were more birds flying around. And there was a new bug he’d never seen before on the wall over there.

It was hard to focus on her, was the point. He kept getting distracted by all the new things to look at.

“Are you even listening to me?” She asked, frowning at him.

Link, realizing he’d zoned out and missed most of what she’d said, responded as tactfully as he could think of.

He lifted up the tiny bird to her slightly. “I can feel it’s heartbeat,”

Impa slapped her face.

Link got the slightest hint that maybe, maybe, he was pissing her off a bit.

“I’m sorry,” he said, watching her drag the hand down her face. “There’s just a lot of new things around and I’m having trouble focusing on you. If it helps, I’ve kinda always had trouble paying attention when surrounded by new things,”

She looked very unimpressed.

“Fine,” she sighed. “We’ll talk about all that later. But no more lying on your stomach,”

Link nodded seriously, or as seriously as he could manage. “Yes, ma’am.”

She looked very tired, and while Link didn’t know how much time had passed since he’d fallen that morning (he’d never been good with time and today was not a good day for that) he was still pretty sure it was too early in the day for her to look so exhausted.

He was pretty sure he was at fault for that. Maybe he should apologize?

“Are you hungry?” Impa asked finally, after just looking at him for a while.

Link was about to say no, but then his stomach growled and so he nodded instead. Food never hurt, he figured.

“Stay put. I mean it this time,” Impa pointed at him firmly. “I’ll be right back,”

Link watched her walk off, and figured maybe he should actually listen this time. She had seemed awful annoyed.

“So, what’s it like in the sky?” Machi asked as the silence dragged on.

“Oh, it’s great!” Link grinned. “The stories say the goddess sent us up there a long time ago to protect us. We ride around on big birds called loftwings, and it’s so pretty, and I was supposed to participate in this competition called the Wing Ceremony so I could graduate into the senior class and become a knight. Actually, I wonder who won it. I mean, I know Zelda will be disappointed- HOLY HYLIA ZELDA!”

The bird in his hands startled and flew away, and Machi fell over at Link’s outburst. Link’s hands shot up to fist in his hair, panic and worry constricting his chest.

“Zelda is probably so worried about me! I have to get back to Skyloft, I need to tell her I’m okay!” Link gasped, suddenly remembering that little detail he’d forgotten in his excitement. “I gotta get back to the sky!”

“I’m afraid you’ll be disappointed then, Sky Child,”

Link didn’t like the way that voice slithered along his spine like a snake, making all the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

He slowly turned his head to see someone standing on one of the mushrooms, smiling at him like a remlit that had just caught a butterfly.

This individual, probably a man if Link had to guess, was very pale, skin fitted white clothing stuck tight like a second skin and a deep red cape sat around the man’s shoulders. Sharp, too big eyes watched Link like he was the most fascinating and precious thing in the world, and it made him feel very uncomfortable. He didn’t like the way this man was looking at him, eyes taking in his form and tracking even the rise and fall of his chest as he wrestled to keep his breathing under control.

There was something very wrong about this man, and Link wanted to be as far away from him as possible. Unfortunately, he wasn’t sure if his leg could support his weight yet, not that he’d be able to run very far even if it could.

Where was Impa? She said she’d be right back.

“Don’t bother looking for your bodyguard,” the man grinned, noticing Link breaking eye contact to scan the forest where Impa had gone. “She’s a bit, tied up right now,”

The smile on the man’s face made every nerve and muscle in Link’s body scream “RUN!” at him. But he couldn’t run, he’d never make it away in time.

Stall! He thought desperately at himself. Stall so Impa can get back and get you out of here!

“Wh-who are you?” Link asked, fighting his throat and hating how shaky he sounded.

He’d never been in real danger before, though he was pretty sure that’s what this was, and he was terrified. He didn’t know what to do here!

The man grinned wider, and Link felt his stomach twist into uncomfortable knots.

“Oh how rude,” the man cooed. “I hadn’t introduced myself. I am the Demon Lord who presides over the land you look down upon, this world you call the Surface,” he vanished in a cloud of diamonds, then reappeared inches from Link’s face. “You may call me Ghirahim. In truth, I much prefer to be indulged with my full title: Lord Ghirahim. But I’m not fussy,”

Link backpedalled, crawling as fast as he could to put as much distance between himself and the man as he could.

Ghirahim vanished again, this time appearing behind Link to grab his shoulders. Link froze, fear rooting him to the spot. He didn’t dare breathe.

Where was Impa?!

“I’m much more interested in you, however,” the, the demon cooed almost directly into Link’s ear. He suddenly felt nauseous. “Yes, Your Majesty, you are a much more interesting find. I had actually expected your mortal form to be that of a woman, but I’m not complaining about this little surprise. It’s certainly clever, if nothing else,”

Link swallowed down bile, body tense as he felt the man continue to look him over, even from the awkward angle.

Impa, he thought desperately. Please hurry!

“I-I don’t know w-what you’re t-talking about,” Link stammered out, fighting his very uncooperative voice to keep it from shaking too badly. He didn’t really succeed.

Ghirahim chuckled, the sound directly in his ear causing goosebumps to rise up on his skin. It was warm out, but Link shivered.

“No, of course you don’t, not yet. You just got here,” Ghirahim finally vanished again, appearing in front of him, and Link finally let himself breathe, chest heaving and sending him back onto his elbows. “I had thought that goddess-serving dog would have told you, but no matter. Whether you know or not, it doesn’t change my plans. And you, dear boy, are very important to them,”

The sick, pleased smile on Ghirahim's face made Link want to hurl, and scream, and curl up into a ball and cry. He’d never had to deal with someone this, this deranged before, and he was scared. He was scared, and he wanted to go home. He wanted to be back up on Skyloft with Zelda, getting yelled at for not practicing hard enough. He wanted his best friend to smile and tell him this was all a bad dream and hold him tight and tell him it was going to be okay. Hell, he’d even take dealing with Groose over this.

What he wouldn’t give to go back to this morning, and not be here, trapped under the gaze of a demon who seemed so pleased to have caught him.

“Stay away from him!”

Ghirahim turned, dodging sharply as someone moved to attack him.

Impa!

Link gasped in relief. He had never before been so happy to see someone he’d only known for a few hours.

Impa positioned herself between Link and Ghirahim, glaring down the demon lord and turning herself into a barrier.

“Of course, you’re here,” Ghirahim sneered, lips twisting on his face in disgust. “Come to protect your precious Spirit Maiden, hm?”

“Link,” Impa said, ignoring what Ghirahim was saying but never taking her eyes off him. “Run,”

“Imp-” Link tried, voice still shaky and weak sounding.

“GO!” Impa snapped, and Link scrambled around to get moving.

He knew he wouldn’t get far, being as injured as he was, and who knew what other kinds of monsters there were in the woods. He spotted Machi waving to him and scrambled over, ducking behind one of the mushrooms to hide, waved into a small crack in the stone where he curled up to wait, Machi pulling some of the vines to hide him better.

He could hear fighting beyond his hiding spot, and covered his ears with his hands in the hopes of blocking out the sounds of breaking glass and metal on metal. He squeezed his eyes shut too, stomach and chest twisting uncomfortably at every flash of blue and black light.

He had never been so scared or helpless in his life, and he hated it. He hated it, he hated it, he hated it.

He wanted to go home. To where there were no demons out for him or Spirit Maidens or fighting between people to the death. He wanted Zelda to tell him it was okay, like she would when he had nightmares, or when Groose was a bit meaner than usual. He wanted the biggest worry in his life to be whether or not Groose put something in his food or hit him with a spitball during class.

He was done with the Surface, he wanted to go home!

It was far too long before he realized the sound of fighting had stopped. Did, who won? Was Impa okay? Was Ghirahim going to take him away somewhere for some reason he still didn’t understand?

“Link,”

Link slowly opened his eyes and turned his head at the soft voice.

Impa was crouched down next to his hiding spot. She was bleeding in a few places, and her features were creased with worry, but she was okay.

“Are you hurt?” She asked, once she was certain he was looking at her.

Link shook his head, the movement jerky. “Is, is he, is,” he paused to swallow, finding it hard to get his thoughts across and into words. “Gone?” He finally managed.

Impa nodded. “For now, yes, he’s gone,”

Link felt like bursting into tears. He was scared, and mostly alone, and some demon was hunting him and Impa had gotten hurt trying to protect him and-

“I want to go home,” he said quietly, not even really embarrassed by how broken the phrase sounded.

Impa frowned, gently, and offered him her hand. “I know. I can’t get you home right now, though,”

Link sniffed, reaching up to swipe at his eyes. He somehow already knew that.

“Come on, it’s not safe here,” Impa said, offering her hand to him again. “There’s somewhere safe close by where we can at least spend the night, though,”

Link sniffed again, wiping at his face with his sleeve, and accepted her hand, crawling out of the spot he’d hidden in. He felt like a little kid all over again, like he was when his parents had died. Scared and lost and alone, with no idea how anything was going to turn out or if it would even be okay.

Only this time he didn’t have Zelda, or Pipit, or Karane to help him out. There was no Geapora to take him in. Just him, a whole world full of new things and dangers, and Impa.

“Is he going to come back?” Link asked while Impa looked him over for any new injuries.

Impa paused, looking up at him, then turned her eyes back to his arm. “Probably,” she admitted, slowly, like she was trying not to scare him. “Which is why we can’t stay here,”

“What does he even want from me?” Link asked, trying his best not to actually burst into tears. He didn’t want to cry. He could be brave, though he was starting to think he didn’t want to be.

Impa sighed, putting her hands on his shoulders and looking him in the eye. It wasn’t as uncomfortable as he’d feared considering the last time someone held his shoulders.

“He doesn’t want anything from you,” Impa told him seriously. “He wants something from the person he thinks you are. He wants the Spirit Maiden,”

“But I’m not the Spirit Maiden,” Link said, in a way that bordered on a mix of a whine and beg but wasn’t quite either. “Can he leave us alone?”

The sympathetic look Impa gave him did not make him feel better.

“He doesn’t know that, though,” Impa said gently, squeezing his shoulders to try and offer him some comfort. “He thinks you are the Spirit Maiden, which is why he’s targeting you,”

Link could feel himself trembling, and he dropped his eyes away from Impa’s.

“I want to go home,” he repeated, trying his best to blink back scared tears and avoid just curling into a ball.

“I know,” Impa sighed, and he felt a gentle hand brush through his hair. “Come on, let’s head somewhere safe for now. We can work on getting you home once you’re healed,”

Link nodded, sniffling a bit and swiping at his face with his sleeves.

He hated being so helpless. He hated being so scared.

He just hoped Zelda wasn’t hating herself too much for pushing him. It really wasn’t her fault he ended up down here, being hunted by a demon.

He hoped Impa could find him a way home soon, so that he could apologize for worrying her.

He was done being excited by the surface.

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mydogisveryadorbs · 4 years ago

Text

crush | jj maybank

summary: jj has had a crush on you for longer than he can remember

warnings: cursing, mentions of smut (if you squint), tiny bit of angst, SOFT JJ, fluff, fluff, fluff

masterlist :)

(gif credit to the owner)

2.1k+ words

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JJ Maybank is was a player.

This is a well-known fact on both sides of the island.

You knew of way too many girls, pogues, kooks, and tourons alike, that had tried their shot at him. All hoping that they could magically change his bad-boy exterior and that he would suddenly transform into the dating type.

It wasn't uncommon that you had girls come into the shop, crying to you about how JJ Maybank didn't text them back and proceeding to buy a bunch of sweets to comfort themselves.

Your family-owned Kildare Bakery, home of the best cupcakes the Outer Banks had to offer. You had grown up helping your parents out in the bakery and once you turned 16 they finally made you an official paid employee.

You worked behind the register and for the most part, you loved it. It was really interesting to meet new people, especially tourons visiting from out of state.

However, there were moments where you didn't enjoy your job and this was definitely one of them.

A girl who looked to be about your age had walked into the store a few minutes ago, looking sad, but you didn't say anything. You simply asked if she needed any help and all of a sudden she was breaking out into a fit of sobs, reaching across the counter to pull you into a hug. You awkwardly patted her back, “Umm, you okay?”

“T-there was this boy,” she hiccuped and you immediately knew exactly where this was going. “I met him at a party last night and we h-hooked up and it was like really good, but when I asked him for his number he wouldn't even give it to me.”

You tried to hold back your eye roll but you couldn't help it. “Let me guess, his name was JJ,” you say, his name sounding slightly bitter on your tongue.

The girl finally pulled away from you, wiping her puffy eyes. “You know him,” she asked in confusion.

You nod. “Yes. Don't worry though, you'll find a much better guy and you will forget about JJ in no time,” you say in an attempt to comfort her.

She narrows her eyes. “Wait, you've hooked up with him too,” the girl asks.

You can't help but laugh. “Absolutely not, I just get a lot of his previous hookups in here,” you explain, gesturing to the display case. “I typically recommend the double chocolate cupcake to girls who've had their heart broken by JJ Maybank.”

The girl continues to look at you in confusion, but nods at your suggestion. You grab a chocolate cupcake and quickly box it up wanting to get her and all of her emotions out of here as quickly as you could.

“That'll be $2.34,” you say, and the girl quickly pulls out a ten. You hand her her change and her cupcake. “Have a nice day.”

Unbeknownst to you, JJ Maybank himself watches the interaction from outside of the bakery.

He can't help the way his heart feels when he sees you comfort the crying girl who he vaguely remembers from the boneyard last night.

Pope nudges his rib cage with his elbow. “Seriously, JJ,” Pope says, clearly annoyed by the blonde boy. “You brought me all the way down here just so you could stare at the girl you've had a crush on for years.”

JJ rolls his eyes, trying to cover up the blush forming on his cheeks. “I don't have a crush on her,” he says in an attempt to convince his friend. “I just think she's nice to look at.”

This was a complete and utter lie. Despite growing up in Kildare, you weren't very well known on the island, most people didn't pay you a second glance. You didn't really partake in the typical shenanigans of the teens on this island, and you always felt invisible to your peers.

But JJ saw you.

He had seen you every day in gym class Freshman year, every day in biology sophomore year, and every day he didn't skip in English junior year. And now that summer had rolled around, he couldn't help but come to the bakery just so he could see you more. JJ not only thought you were a living, breathing angel, but he also adored the way you were always so sweet and kind to everyone you met. How could he not have a crush on a girl like you? You were like a cold that he couldn't shake, not that he ever wanted to. But in his mind, a girl like you would never go for a guy like him.

Watching you talk to one of his hookups made him oddly guilty. He knew he shouldn't, but hooking up with random girls was the only way he could think to take his mind off you. Clearly, that didn't work, because here he was, yet again, staring at you through a window.

“Dude, you're so whipped,” Pope said with an eye roll. “Just go talk to her.”

JJ’s eyes widened. “Absolutely not.”

Pope scoffed. “You're telling me you've never even talked to the girl?” he asks incredulously. “JJ, bro, you're a goner.”

“You say that like it's easy,” the blonde says, dramatically gesturing his arms.

With another eye roll, Pope puts both hands on the other boy's shoulders. “Okay here's what you do,” he says and JJ listens intently. “Walk inside the store, go up to the counter, and you fucking talk to her.”

JJ pulls away. “Dude no way,” he exclaims.

“Okay fine,” Pope says. “If you go in there and talk to her, I'll give you all my delivery tips for a whole week.”

JJ looks at him. “A week,” he asks unconvinced.

“Fine. Two weeks.” They shake on it and JJ prepares himself to go inside.

The idea of even talking to you makes his stomach queasy. God, Pope is right, he is whipped.

After a few minutes, JJ tells his friend that he is ready and Pope pats him on the back before pushing him towards the entrance encouragingly.

You looked up to the door when you heard the bell ring, signaling someone entering. You were shocked to see the same boy you had been talking about moments ago. You make eye contact with his big blue eyes, getting entranced for a second. Pushing away your negative impression of the boy, you offer him a sweet smile.

JJ looks down at your lips, then back up to your eyes and without a word. You wonder why he isn't moving further into the shop, but before you can ask what is wrong, he turns around and walks right out the door.

Once outside, Pope comforts the boy with a laugh, telling him “next time” and they walk away from the shop leaving you utterly confused.

The next day, JJ drags John B, Pope, and Kiara along with him to the bakery, telling them that he needs “extra support”.

“C’mon man,” John B says with a shrug. “(Y/N) is way too nice to shoot you down,” he adds jokingly.

Kiara elbows him in the stomach. “Don't listen to him, JJ,” she says, shooting John B a glare. “Just be yourself.”

JJ nods, feeling confident as he walks through the bakery doors, but the second he sees your radiant smile all his courage flies out the window and he quickly walks back out the door.

This cycle goes on for three more days. JJ walks in, sees you, and leaves. You are becoming annoyed with the boy's actions, wondering if he is playing some sort of stupid prank on you.

It is Friday night, a few minutes before the bakery closes, and JJ decides that enough is enough. He needs to talk to you and he needs to do it now.

You are wiping down the display cases when you hear the bell ring.

When you turn around, you see JJ. Before he can say anything you glare at him. “Are you kidding me,” you say, sassily. JJ didn't even know you had a sassy bone in your body. “You've come in here every day this week and you look at me and then walk out,” you lecture him, “Seriously, just order something.”

“I-I,” JJ stutters but he can't get a word out in his shocked state.

Closing your eyes you try to regain your composure. “I'm sorry,” you say, your voice softening already feeling guilty about raising your voice at him. “I didn't mean to lash out on you.”

JJ shakes his head, softly smiling at your kindness. “No it's me who should be sorry,” he says remorsefully. “I probably confused you so much. I just- I think you're really beautiful.”

His words shock you. JJ Maybank thinks you are beautiful? You didn't even know he knew you existed before today. This had to be a prank.

You softly pout at him. “That's not very funny, JJ,” you say, looking anywhere but his eyes.

“What?” he asks, confused.

“It's not funny to play me like that.”

JJ frowns at your accusation, heartbreaking slightly. “I'm being honest, (Y/N). You are really pretty.”

You narrow your eyes. “I'm not sleeping with you just because you called me beautiful,” you say.

The blonde boy blushes hard. Clearly, you knew of his reputation, and he hated himself for it. “I don't want to sleep with you. Well I mean, I do, but- shit,” JJ cuts his rambling short, noticing the scowl on your face. “What I meant to say is that I want to take you on a real date, and hold your hand, and kiss you goodnight n’shit.”

To say you're shocked is an understatement. “How do I know this isn't some elaborate joke,” you ask him warily.

“It isn't, I promise,” JJ says honestly, but the look on your face doesn't change. “Last year in English you sat in the second row, three seats from the left and you got A’s on all your papers because you are a good writer. In Mr. Hills biology class you fell asleep almost every day and you would always drool a little bit on your notes. In gym class Freshman year you hit my friend John B in the face with a basketball and you didn't stop apologizing for like three weeks. Trust me (Y/N), I've had a crush on you for a long time.”

By the time JJ finishes his speech, your jaw has dropped. You didn't think anyone at that school even knew your name, let alone JJ Maybank.

“I-I honestly don't know what to say,” you tell him. “You have a crush on me? You, JJ Maybank, the one guy I told myself I would never fall for?”

You didn't know it, but every word that falls from your mouth is like a knife to JJ’s heart.

“But I couldn't help myself,” you add, causing JJ to perk up a little bit. “I get girls in here all the time whose hearts you broke, but still, I see you living your best life with your friends and I can't help but want that with you.”

“Go out with me,” JJ says with a mouth splitting grin on his face, “Please. You can wear something nice and I'll bring you flowers pick you up and take you out to a fancy restaurant.”

You can't help but laugh at his outburst. JJ is pretty sure that his heart stops at the sound and he wants nothing more than to make you laugh every day for the rest of his life.

“I'm a simple girl, JJ,” you say sweetly, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. “You don't have to spend a bunch of money on me.”

“You're worth every pen-” you cut the boy off by holding your hand up.

“How about you grab some pizza and I'll grab some dessert and you can pick me up and take me to a picnic on the beach,” you suggest.

JJ looks at you and nods his head like an obedient puppy.

“Okay, it's settled. Now get out of the bakery so I can close up,” you say with a giggle, playfully shooing him away.

The blonde quickly moves to leave. “I'll pick you up at 6?” he asks sweetly from the doorway.

You nod. “I like pepperoni,” you call out with a chuckle as he backs out of the door, a big smile on his face.

JJ Maybank has a crush on you.

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masterlist

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canary3d-obsessed · 4 years ago

Text

Restless Rewatch: The Untamed, Episode 24, first part

(Masterpost) (Other Canary Stuff)

Warning: Spoilers for All 50 Episodes!

Banquet Proposal

Manspreading Champion Jin Guangshan is trying to pressure Jiang Cheng into marrying Jiang Yanli into the Jin clan. Because this is the cultivation world, where everyone reflexively agrees with the most powerful man in the room like he's Frank Sinatra and they're the Rat Pack, the whole room starts pressuring Jiang Cheng to agree.

Then Wei Wuxian comes striding in and suggests the radical idea of asking a woman's opinion about her own marriage. He tries to pressure Jiang Cheng into agreeing with him. Today is Pressure Jiang Cheng Day. Every day for the next several months is going to be Pressure Jiang Cheng Day.

Jiang Cheng stands up and agrees that it should be left up to his sister, citing his late father's beliefs so that everyone will know that this unconventional behavior isn't his fault. This is a pickle for him; he knows his sister wants to marry Jin Zixuan, but it's not a good political alliance for the Jiangs right now, which is the opposite of the situation when his parents first made the match. While saying all this he takes the opportunity to get in a dig at Wei Wuxian for meddling.

Jiang Yanli sadly says, thanks for the offer, but the Jiang Clan is just coming back from being massacred, and I have, like, SO much laundry, I can't even. It's not that I don't want to be with you, Jixuan honey; I would just rather scrub blood off of the courtyard.

Jin Zixuan suddenly realizes that being dumped in front of a bunch of your peers is not as fun when you’re catching instead of pitching.

Clan Leader Yao is completely flummoxed by this whole "let young people decide things" concept and hopes it goes out of fashion soon.

The only really happy person in the room is Jin Guangyao, who is looking for a scapegoat for his upcoming villainy. Wei Wuxian will be a perfect fit.

(more behind the cut!)

Chillin Like a Villain

Jin Guangyao and Jin Guangshan have a villany-plotting conversation that's mostly as boring as every other villainy-plotting conversation.

Jin Guangyao starts the ground work for blaming stuff on Wei Wuxian, saying that Wei Wuxian was alone with Xue Yang back when the 4th chunk of Yin Iron went missing. This kind of harks back to that moment when Wei Wuxian searched Xue Yang (not, incidentally, alone) and XY asked if he wasn't worried about what people would say if they heard about it.

Jin Guangshan is pretty ready to think badly of WWX, who just crapped on his marriage plans, so he quickly decides that Wei Wuxian’s Yin Tiger amulet is made out of Xue Yang’s Yin Iron, not that it actually, like, matters where it came from? It’s all the same dang metal.

Back to Lotus Pier

Then we get an establishing shot of the dock in Yunmeng and the subtitle unhelpfully says QISHAN. Not because the scene is in Qishan, but because there are red Wen banners flying that say 岐山 on them, so the subtitle is for the banner, not for the location. Not only are there Wen banners still flying despite their defeat, there are at least six Wen guards standing guard at the dock. Perhaps there is a teensy continuity error here.

The Yunmeng trio return to Lotus Pier with a group of disciples in tow. Leaving aside the boys' (apparent) stealth trip to the ancestral hall in Episode 20, this is their official return to their home and the seat of their clan, having survived the Wen clan's attempt to exterminate them.

They are battered, bloodied, but not broken and one of them is also broken. But still persevering. I get choked up at this scene every time. Yu Ziyuan and Jiang Fengmian would be pleased with all three of them. Jiang Yanli has supported both of them through all the turmoil, giving them an emotional home even while they were homeless. Jiang Cheng has done the impossible, even more than he himself realizes. And Wei Wuxian has acted as a faithful servant, sacrificing a precious part of himself to save his clan leader.

The place is a mess, with the evidence of a final battle against the Wens all over the place. As they look around Wei Wuxian thinks back on one of the many times that Jiang Fengmian paid attention to him instead of to Jiang Cheng, and smiles affectionately. Wei Wuxian is consistently able to remember the good things and smile about them, even when those memories are overlaid by endless trauma.

The three of them look at the Wen symbol on the roof line and the boys get identically angry...

...starting with the teeth of anger...

...followed by the fist of anger.

It's a powerful moment; they still do have an awful lot in common, despite everything. Jiang Cheng uses his mother’s weapon to smash the Wen symbol and reclaim his home.

Jiang Yanli: The fuck!? Are you trying to slice my face off?

Back to Gusu

Next we get a nice fly-through of the Jingshi, where Lan Wangji is sitting in the side room playing guqin. In later years he will move the guqin to the living room, while this room gains a wine-drinking table.

The Lan clan do love their knick-knacks, and this room features several. There's a teapot suspended from a chain over a brazier, with a tied-up fish sculpture for a counterweight, which is definitely not an indication of any future kinks. The brazier is surrounded by Zen sand with some surprisingly untranquil lines raked into it.

Lan Xichen has dropped by to tell Lan Wangji that the disciples are gossiping about him, saying he’s been checking out books from the library and practicing music. Seriously? The Lans are a sect that focuses on musical cultivation. Practicing music, verrry suspicious. Also, gossip is forbidden, but sure, check up on him.

In response, Lan Wangji jumps right to "I want to enter the forbidden chamber of the Library" Lan Xichen asks him why, and he says he wants more music scores. Lan Xichen, who knows about the secret murder music book, isn't delighted with that answer. Just then, Lan Qiren summons them, so they table the conversation to go see him.

Lan Qiren talks about the battle they just went through, and says "I've heard about Wei Ying." Everybody makes significant faces without clarifying what LQR actually heard about Wei Ying. Lan Qiren then philosophizes about how war is hell, particularly for idioms about eggs and nests. They need to go clean up the leftover resentful energy, but he's sending Lan Xichen on his own, while Lan Wangji gets to stay home and repair/rewrite all of the Lan rules.

Lan Qiren says a bunch of stuff to Lan Wangji about rules, being super hinty without actually coming to the point. He refuses to let Lan Wangji speak or ask questions, while he’s doling out punishment for, basically, thought crime. He wants LWJ to reject Wei Wuxian but he wants him to do it without being directly told.

To make sure Lan Wangji is extra frustrated, he snarkily refuses to give him permission to read the forbidden books, asking him if he’s already read all of the books in the regular library. Surprisingly, he hasn’t yet; I guess he was busy winning a war while you were in a coma, jerkface.

Lan Xichen is super on edge during this conversation--scared, even. He's trying to keep the peace, trying to keep Lan Wangji out of trouble, and avoid a confrontation. Lan Wangji is increasingly uninterested in peace, but he follows his brother's unspoken commands, and shuts up.

Lan Qiren and Lan Xichen both really fail as teachers here. Lan Wangji believes that resentful energy is bad. He believes this VERY STRONGLY. He broke up with his boyfriend for a while because of it. They are punishing him for having doubts, and they’re not giving him any opportunity to talk through those doubts with them. I say “they” because Lan Qiren is the one giving the punishment, but Lan Xichen is silently assenting, and making sure Lan Wangji doesn’t argue.

As they leave, Lan Qiren stops them to ask Lan Wangji if he understands why he's grounded, and Lan Wangji just looks at him without answering, which would be counted as sass when I was growing up.

He face says he’s appropriately chagrined, but he’s not. Before the end of this episode, he's going to directly disobey Lan Qiren, and he’s going to go on disobeying him in the future, over and over again.

Later, when Lan Wangji is alone with the pristine, definitely not in need of repair, rule book, he seems genuinely chagrined. He loves these rules, and has depended on them; that’s why he’s been a model disciple for so long, not because he fears his uncle’s punishments.

But now he also loves Wei Wuxian. So some of these rules will have to be broken.

Clan Leader Jiang

The Jiang Clan are having the ceremony to install Jiang Cheng as leader.

Wei Wuxian is sitting alone, away from all of the other disciples, watching the proceedings rather than participating. His placement in the ceremony is very strange for a head disciple.

But it’s perfect for a ghost.

Later, Jiang Cheng is practicing his "yelly boss" leadership style, and being extra grumpy because Wei Wuxian is slacking off all the time. Jiang Yanli is having trouble deciding if she should be more worried about the brother with the drinking problem or the brother with the anger problem.

Jiang Cheng is miserable and feels completely unsure of himself but he's plowing the fuck ahead.

You might put your love and trust on the line It's risky, people love to tear that down Let 'em try Do it anyway Risk it anyway And if you're paralyzed by a voice in your head It's the standing still that should be scaring you instead Go on and Do it anyway Do it anyway

Help Me to Help You

Wei Wuxian is hanging out in a tavern window, being a thirst trap and hitting on passing Lans.

Lan Xichen joins him for a drink and a lecture. Things start off fairly well, with Wei Wuxian being impressed with his ability to drink wine, and attempting his usual flirt-tease-charm routine, bragging about smuggling wine into Cloud Recesses.

Where Lan Wangji would be adorably flustered and hostile/sexy in responding to that, Lan Xichen just shuts him down with a look, and Wei Wuxian suddenly realizes that he's talking to an adult clan leader who isn't here for his shit, and is a lot more worldy than Lan Wangji is.

Wei Wuxian knocks it off and apologizes. Then he talks fondly about Lan Wangji, saying he wants to come visit him, and daydreams cutely about dominating him supervising his rule-copying work.

LXC says that he should come listen to new music that LWJ has composed, and the tone of the conversation changes completely. Wei Wuxian is on his guard, and he's getting ready to throw down. He asks if LXC came to Yunmeng specifically to hassle him, and LXC...kinda says no?

Wei Wuxian smiles sweetly while he asks if everyone in the Lan Clan is a meddler.

Lan Xichen has never encountered the nasty version of Wei Wuxian before, but he's a grown up, and he's very, very hard to provoke, unlike his brother. He cuts to the chase and says he's got something to say, whether WWX listens or not.

He says Wei Wuxian shouldn't be self-centered because the people he cares about are affected by his choices. This gets through to him, for a second. But then LXC offers to help him go back to sword cultivation, and Wei Wuxian is done listening.

He tells Lan Xichen he doesn't want to go back to sword work, and LXC is stunned into silence for a moment as Wei Wuxian takes his wine and starts to walk away. Lan Xichen makes a last ditch attempt to warn him about the dangers of the yin tiger amulet, and WWX says he knows, but he wants to try to master it anyway. Then he leaves with a rude little wave, and no bow.

This whole conversation seems like a disaster but Wei Wuxian does, in fact, remember Lan Xichen’s words, the next time he meets up with Lan Wangji.

Soundtrack: Do It Anyway by Ben Folds Five

#the untamed #the untamed gifs #the untamed meta #restless rewatch the untamed #canary3d-original #my gifs

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