#All this red tape I need to get through is so fucking unnecessary

[sataniquepanique]

Do It. 

Summary: Eddie's rude neighbor threatens him, and little does she know you are 100% ready to fight for him (and it really turns Eddie on).

Genre: fluff, light smut, standing up for Eddie, 18+ only.

Warnings: cursing, anger, light violence (choking), light smut.

A/N: Writing this because of a real situation that happened recently with myself and my fiancé, only it didn't end exactly like this lol

“Eddie!” You squeal as he tears his van into the trailer park. “Stop making me laugh, I have to pee so bad!” You try to stop giggling, tears rimming your eyes from laughing so hard at some dumb joke Eddie kept running with. 

The van lurches to a stop in front of his trailer, both of you still heavily breathing trying to recover from your laughing fits. You wrench the passenger side door open letting the deafening sounds of W.A.S.P. echo into the night. Leaping out, you sprint to the front door. “Eddie! Open the fucking door or I will legitimately piss my pants on your doorstep!” You yell at him, watching him kill the engine and slowly exit the van, pretending to not know what key he needs to open the front door. The second he unlocks it, you rush past him to the bathroom, silently chastising yourself for drinking a large diet coke right before you left the movie theater. 

You emerge from the bathroom a few minutes later, noticing how quiet the trailer was. Eddie is a bull in a china shop, and you can always hear him no matter what he’s doing. Practicing guitar? Loud. Doing dishes? Loud. Changing the channel on the tv? Fucking loud. He’s incapable of being quiet, so its suspicious that he seemingly followed you into the trailer yet it’s this quiet. 

You peer into his room, scanning the stacks of tapes, piles of clothes and other random shit lying about. He’s not in here. You walk down the hall to the kitchen and can see he’s clearly not in the trailer anymore. 

He did follow you inside, right? You can’t even remember, with how preoccupied you had been with trying to not piss yourself. That’s when you heard it. There was muffled talking coming from out front. You go to the front door and peer out the window, seeing Eddie talking to a woman you recognize as his neighbor on the corner. You can’t make out what they’re saying, but the look on her face is far from friendly. Eddie seems calm though, smoking a cigarette with one hand in his jacket pocket. The woman says something and Eddie starts to talk with his hands, which he tends to do when he gets emotional. And then you see it. The spark that ignites something inside of your brain, something that makes you see nothing but crimson fucking red. The woman has her finger pointed at Eddie, right at his face, millimeters from his nose, and she’s snarling something at him. You burst through the door, stalking across the yard. 

“…ALL HOURS OF THE FUCKING NIGHT! YOU NEED TO KEEP THE GODDAMN MUSIC DOWN OR SO HELP ME GOD…” the woman spits at Eddie as you push past him and stand between them. Her finger that was pointed at his nose, is now touching your forehead as you stare daggers at her, never moving your eyes from hers. 

“Is there a problem?” you growl, narrowing your gaze. You can feel Eddie’s presence behind you, and can smell the smoke he’s nervously blowing over your head. He might be loud and abrasive, but the kid is incredibly passive. He wouldn’t hurt a fly, and doesn’t enjoy unnecessary confrontation, unless it’s with some dumb jock at school. You on the other hand, love to match people’s energy, especially when they deserved to get absolutely fucked. 

“Why don’t you go back to your house.” You warn her, clenching your fists at your side. 

“Why don’t you tell your little trailer trash boyfriend to keep his fucking music down?” She sneers at you, lowering her finger. 

Ding, ding, bitch.

You step towards her and she puts her hand on your throat, fingers splayed across your jawbone. 

You lean into her hand, forcing her to push on your windpipe. Her eyes dart from your face to Eddie’s behind you, and you can see a flash of fear in them. 

Leaning in harder you clench your teeth, “do it bitch. Fucking. Do. It.” You feel her elbow cave as she pulls her hand away from you. 

You give her the most satanic smile, as you are quickly lifted into the air from behind. Eddie has thrown you over his shoulder and is now carrying you back towards his trailer. The woman yells while walking away, “Redneck pieces of shit!” And you lift your head to see her face as you give her two middle fingers. 

Eddie dumps you onto the couch inside the trailer and stands in front of you, one hand on his hip while the other cards through his hair. You can’t read his face, but suddenly you have an overwhelming feeling of embarrassment. “Eddie…I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to act like that, I just saw her being so aggressive towards you and I blacked out.” You look at him apologetically while he stares at the kitchen avoiding your gaze. 

A few seconds pass, and he hasn’t said anything.

“Eddie…talk to me please…” you whisper, standing up and touching his arm.

He gives a dark chuckle and turns to face you.

“That was…without a doubt…the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.” He stares at you, giving you a wry half smile. 

This was far from the reaction you had expected.

Eddie’s dark eyes are boring into yours, his smile has turned sinister, as he snakes one arm around your waist. His other hand grabs a handful of your hair and pulls you into a ferocious kiss, while you brace yourself against his chest by clutching handfuls of his shirt. He wasn’t joking, you could feel how hard he was as you pushed your hips into his.

The hand that is holding the back of your hair in a vice grip smooths it’s way down to your cheek, and then trails to your neck. You shiver at the coolness of Eddie’s rings as they trace your skin. He stops at your throat and squeezes slightly, pulling away from the kiss. 

You look up at him through your lashes, biting your bottom lip. “…do it bitch.” 

Eddie’s eyes close as he rolls them back. “Jesus Christ….” He growls as he grabs the back of your thighs, forcing you to wrap your legs around his waist as he carries you back into his bedroom. You trail hot kisses down the side of his neck, feeling his hands squeezing your ass right before he throws you back onto his bed. 

You glance up at the wall next to his bed, and then back at him. “Can we use the cuffs tonight?”

He gives you a devilish grin as he rips his shirt over his head, “oh sweetheart…we’re going to be doing everything tonight.” 

#Eddie munson #Eddie Munson x reader #Eddie Munson edit #Eddie Munson stranger things #stranger things fanfic #Eddie Munson fic #Eddie Munson fanfic #Eddie Munson x you #fan fic smut #Eddie Munson smut #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson oneshot

[battletrio]

One thing that I got out of TFAWS was that Sam and Bucky have both been out of the military for a long time whereas John is still fresh. Sam and Bucky were both kind of 'eff the rules' whereas John still had those teachings in him from his years of military service. LITERALLY ALL HE WAS DOING WAS TRYING TO FOLLOW THE COMMANDS GIVEN TO HIM LIKE MOST SOLDIERS. And then everyone acts like soldiers can't have trauma and react when the witness something like their best friend dying in front of them??? They could've explained to him why they were doing things their way but instead went out of their way to say 'nah fuck John' because of poor writing in the script.

I think I've spoken many times about my frustrations with how they depicted Sam and Bucky and John's interactions. I really wish the story had allowed them to connect through their common military background. I think it's understandable that Sam and Bucky were more "free" and didn't play by the rules, both of their experiences even beyond them not being active duty soldiers anymore have formed their views on how they see rules and all the red tape. But there really was no reason that they couldn't still work together. They could have both worked their respective ends of the case and then shared information, maybe something from Sam and Bucky's off the books tactics could have helped John and Lemar get more info through official channels or vice versa. They didn't need to cut off sharing information.

I mean, it's not like either of the pairs were going into this for the glory and fame anyways, so it's not some competition about who gets credit for what. They all want to keep people safe so this weird bit of symbolic turf war is rather silly. It's like the mess made back in the days when different police departments or the FBI didn't share information or have a centralized database so killers would not be caught for years and years even though different departments all had the pieces and if they'd just all put them together, they could have caught a killer much earlier and saved more lives.

It's unfortunate that the story had to force these four characters into unnecessary antagonism that ultimately undermines all the characters.

#off duty (ooc) #fortune favors the bold (asks)

[michaelmilligan]

Other trans person: Hey fam, it's my hormonversary, I've been on HRT for XX months now!

Me: Transition goals.

#Listen I don't have a lot of goals right now #Just starting HRT is the dream tbh #Maybe possibly getting some stubble would be nice #But rn any of that seems so far away bc I'm stuck in a step along the way and nothing is moving and I'm so tired #If it wasn't dangerous I'd be seriously considering getting some T without a prescription #But honestly having a doctor to discuss your dosage with seems pretty important #Also estrogen blockers would be nice #Tldr: ugh I want the T juice #Gimme the T juice #All this red tape I need to get through is so fucking unnecessary #Trans stuff #Rant

[subpar-ghoulfriend]

School Nurse

@letstalkaboutfandomsbaby led me to yet another 2D man that I want to get wrecked by

How would a school nurse react to Hwajin’s presence? Dabauchery will ensue.

AN: this started out as a short little drabble, turned into a long smutty mess that I finally rangled in with romance because… after care. As a nurse I was getting to into the logistics of the pencil stab

TW: smut, degradation, praise kink, breeding kink, power exchange, mild wound description (pencil stab), sex in a nurses office, oral sex

NO MINORS

Hwajin knew you would look good on your knees. You had a bratty, stubborn nature that he wanted to overpower. He thought you were too gentle with trouble makers. When he told you this, you argued that it was your job as a school nurse to take care of all the students.

How was it that you were so hostile with him but when it came to even the worst students you were so gentle. It irritated him. You actively avoided him. Maybe he wouldn't care if he didn't find you so damn adorable. Thoughts of you kept him company late at night.

Even when he forced you to take a baton after he saw a student get in your face yelling. The only person you used it against was him. Apparently you wouldn't allow him to pull students out of your office regardless of their offense.

He was shocked to learn that few students ever bothered you. The worst offenders would constantly make advances at you and since you would have his head, he disciplined them only once you were out of range.

And you were equally irate. He treated you like a child when you tried to present him with research that aggression towards children under the age of 18 was just as detrimental as ignoring their bad behavior. You weren't against addressing the students inappropriate behavior, but the number of visits to your office had tripled upon his arrival.

It become rare that schools had a nurse on campus, barely coming back in to practice following the hands off policy. And at the most part you were mainly treating the faculty and the more unlucky students. If the Ministry of Education wanted to bring in people like Na, would you even have a job much longer?

/

"What are you doing here? I'm not harboring any students," You hissed as the warden entered your office.

"If I remember correctly, I'm here to oversee the whole school. That includes you. Besides I actually need medical help."

Hwajin turned the lock on the door before unbuttoning his shirt. He turned around to show you a shallow hole between his shoulder blades. You tried to keep the blush from creeping on to your face as you scanned his muscular body.

Apparently a student surprised him by sinking a pencil into his skin.

"Violence breeds violence," You chided when the realization hit. "Oh god, did you kill the student?"

You were truly alarmed. He took slight offense to that question. He wasn't a great guy but he wasn't going to kill someone on the job.

"Just give me something to bandage this up," he rolled his eyes.

You motioned for him to sit on the medical table but of course he had to make things difficult, choosing to straddle a chair instead. In spite of his protests that he could take care of things himself you pulled on a pair of gloves.

"Don't be such a pain, Mr. Na. There's no way you can properly clean what's on your back."

You probed around the wound that was already angry and red. The blood has begun to dry. Trying not to cause unnecessary pain you attempted to visually assess the bed of the wound for any debris that may lead to infection.

Instinctively he howled in pain as you began to clean.

"Will you just put a bandaid over it so I can get back to my job?"

You had to admit you were getting some sick satisfaction from this. The wound was clean and you applied an anti bacterial ointment but it was in a location where the skin tended to pull and stretch so you were sure it would bleed throughout the day-

"Are you smoking in my office?"

Hwajin gave you a cheeky grin before blowing smoke toward your face.

The nerve. In retaliation you flicked the inflamed skin while avoiding the actual wound.

"Ouch, you're cute when you get angry," Na laughed.

Your cheeks were scorching, "Okay Mr Na, you're all wrapped up. Stop by at the end of the day so I can change the bandage."

He winked while buttoning up shirt, "I knew you liked seeing me."

"Out." You hissed.

As he walked down the halls he chuckled to himself. He couldn't wait for you to submit to him.

/

Through out the day your mind wandered to Hwajin. Him sitting in front of you, shirtless and rippled with muscle. The parts of his skin left unscarred were so soft compared to his attitude. You wondered if his palms were as soft or were they were rough and calloused.

As if on cue the man walked into your office, catching you during one of your fantasies. Was it already the end of the day? Sure enough, the clock showed school let out half an hour ago.

Just like before he secured the door and stripped off his shirt. The bandage wasn't soaked, but it did need to be changed. The day warped your work and some of the tape was lifted away from his skin.

This time politely in the chair, he hummed as you removed and replaced the soiled bandage.

"Starting tomorrow you should just leave it open to air. This is really just to keep you getting your blood on your shirt. If you start thinking you have an infection go to the hospital." You turned around to discard your gloves.

As you turned back, you bumped into Hwajin Na. He smiled down at you and ruffled your hair, "Thanks, nurse, you took such good care of me. You'll have to let me thank you."

He lowered his mouth to your whisper in your ear, "what should I do for you?"

Your were in a losing position, you didn't want to make eye contact but you couldn't stare straight ahead, he still wasn't dressed and it was too overwhelming. You settled on looking down toward his feet.

You quickly snapped your eyes back up when you notice a bulge trying to push past his pants.

"Uh, no need to thank me. It's my job." You stepped back against the wall, at least giving you a bit more space.

Hwajin placed his arms against the wall so he could close the space between you.

"What's wrong? You're flushed. Let's see if you have a fever." He pressed forehead against your. "You feel a bit warm, but not worrisome."

You stammered, "Uh, Mr Na, it's late so we should probably wrap up."

"Mr Na," he mocked you. "Why do you do that? We're both adults, you can call me Hwajin."

Your eyes darted around the room. Maybe you were being punked. Was he testing you?

"It's respectful, it would be rude to call you by your first name."

He brushed a stand of hair behind your shoulder, pleased with your response.

"Well I can think of other titles you could call me that I would enjoy much more."

You were struggling between your desire and your fear of losing your job. Surely he knew what he was doing to you.

Of course he knew, the gleam in his eyes made that clear.

"Well, it's pretty late and I don't know about you but I'm tired after today so I'll see you tomorrow."

He dropped his hands and you took that as the end of his teasing. But instead he hoisted you against him, grasping the back of your thighs.

"My poor little nurse, I've kept you so busy. How about you lay down and let me help you relax."

"Hwajin, put me down," You smacked his shoulder. Listening, he sat you down the cot you constantly sanitized. In spite of what you were saying you allowed him to crawl on top of you.

"Hmm, now you use my first name, little nurse? And here I thought you were respectful," he nipped at your ears.

You shivered.

"Well pick one," You groaned. "First, no last name, then no first name. What's left."

His tongue darted across your neck while began tearing at your clothes, "how about you just be a good girl and call me 'Sir'."

At this point the primal part of your brain took over as you pathetically began to rub against his thigh. Your Irrational brain didn't need a job, it just needed this man to fuck her.

Nearly all your clothes were discarded to the floor as his mouth began to tease your breasts. Your hand tangled in his hair when sink his teeth into your tender flesh.

"Talk to me baby," he sighed. "Use your words, ask for what you want."

You lay out a whimper and tugged at belt loops, "fuck me."

He pinched your in thigh, "Now that's not using your manners. Am I going to need to teach you to behave?"

You mumbled a response that he could barely hear, eliciting another pinch to your thigh.

You huffed, "fine, please fuck me, Sir"

Pleased with your response he tugged your panties to the side, stroking your soaked pussy with his middle knuckle.

"Atta girl. You're so fucking wet for me. How long have you been waiting to be my little slut?"

He slid one finger inside of you with ease, arching you back as moved inside you. You were trying to fumble at his the button of his pants but he pushed your hands off him.

With a growl he removed his hands and your underwear from your body, "Not yet, although I'm flattered how desperate you are for me. Turn over, ass in the air, show me what's mine."

You were happy to obey, sliding into one of your favorite positions.

"You're not be very nice, sir," You teased. "You could at least remove your pants."

His hands came down hard on your ass causing you to cry out in pain and pleasure.

"Watch what you say, unless you like being disciplined. You already know I don't tolerate disobedience. And as much as enjoy your screams, don't forget that just because school is over doesn't mean everyone is gone."

You bite your tongue as he spanked you again. He certainly wasn't holding back. But he was right, there were after school clubs and some teachers stayed as late as 8. His fingers found their way inside your warmth again, fluid dripping from your aching cunt. You had adjust to his rhythm of spanking when his fingers were at their deepest. You felt so close to release. When he withdrew from you yet again.

You let out a frustrated groan until his hand made firm contact with your pussy. Once, twice, three times produce a wet spanking sound. You couldn't hold in your tears, thankful you were a glutton for pain.

"You still with me, princess?" He cooed, getting off the bed. You nodded. "Good girl, hold that position for me just a bit longer."

You nodded again, words evading your mind. You appreciated the coolness produced by the cot. Hwajin repositioned the pillow that had fallen on the floor and removed his belt.

Standing next to you on the bed he finally directed you into another position. He helped you stand, barefoot on the linoleum floor. You were held against his chest as you gathered your bearings.

He nuzzled against your hair, "I'm not a gentle man, if you need to stop at any time you say so okay. And that's an order. Can you do that for me princess?"

You told him you would as he helped you sink your knees to the pillow. He ruffled your hair again, telling you how good you looked. Finally he unzipped his pants, his erect dick right in front of you.

"Look at me."

You complied, tearing your ways away from his cock.

"If you want my dick then prove it. Open up that pretty mouth of yours."

He grabbed you by the hair, guiding your lips his shiny tip. Your tongue circled around him, admiring his taste. You weren't usually self conscious but you couldn't help but be nervous you'd disappoint him. As you began wrap your lips around him, Hwajin inhaled sharply. He gave your hair a gentle tug.

"Eyes on me. Good. You're doing so well. All the way to the base, baby."

You were almost there when there was a knock at your door. Hwajin kept his grip firm on you, instead of allowing you to pull back he shoved his throbbing dick down your throat and began fucking your mouth while putting a finger to his lips. He was smirking like the devil. Your throat constricting in protest.

"Excuse me, nurse," one of the school kids called. Knocking again.

"Fuck," Na muttered as he released into your mouth. Tears spilled over your eyes as you struggled to swallow.

The nock persisted, "hellooo? Come on I need to pick up a physical form."

"She's busy, fuck off."

As the footsteps faded down the hall Na released you from his grasp. He couldn't help but laugh at you when you pouted up at him, your were glistening and your cheeks were rosy and puffy. God, next time he swore he would take a photo of you on your knees after sucking his dick.

"Really, you had to open up your loud mouth," You whined. "You could've just pretended no one was here."

He shrugged in response, helping you off the floor.

This time on the cot you were both undressed. Hwajin sucked and bite on your neck. You nudged him off telling him he was gonna leave a mark.

"You're telling me I can't mark up my little whore?"

"Just not where students can see."

That was fair enough, there were other places he'd rather leave bruises. Between your thighs. Your stomach. Your breasts. Proof that he had made you his.

He wouldn't bite too rough, not want to scare you off. He planned on making more of these moments with you. You were better in person. Exceeding his late night fantasies.

Finally he began to slide his cock inside you, your pussy searing with pleasure at his size. It was a struggle to control the volume of your moans.

"Does my little slut like that? You want me to stuff you?"

"Please," You cried, needing more or his touch. "Please don't stop, Sir. Please let me cum on your dick."

Hwajin began to pound harder into your tight pussy, admiring how your body reacted to the sheer force of him. Each time he snapped his hips against you, your lush breasts, along with the rest of your body, followed with an intoxicating jiggle.

You were exactly what he needed and he wished to consume you. His mind flashed to images of you tied up and exposed for him, placing all of your trust in him. Or he could snap a pretty collar around your neck and tie you to the bed with a leash, you would be begging him to fuck you like a bitch.

"Tell me need me," he growled. "That no one else can fuck you into submission and make you dumb with pleasure. Your mine and I don't share."

Tears rushed down your face as a mixture of pain and desire burst the pressure in your core. You clenched around him, babbling what he instructed you to and meaning every word.

The tightness of your orgasm shocked both you and Hwajin. Paired along with your heat pushed the man past his limit, releasing his thick cum inside of you. Even through the near blinding pleasure of his own release Hwajin felt a moment of worry, he hadn't meant to pour himself inside of you, he was fully aware he wasn't wearing protect and had gotten your consent.

Between your gasps and moans you were were repeating a breathy thank you. Unless he had died and gone to Heaven You were actually begging him for more of his seed. Crying out that you needed him to stuff you full. The man nearly confessed his love for you on the spot.

However he maintained his composure. Pressing closer to you and guiding you through the high of your orgasm.

He combed his fingers through your hair, whispering praises and reassurance. Telling you to relax into him, he wasn't going anywhere. Finally your grip on him relaxed as a gluttonous smile graced your lips.

Na propped himself up next to you with his elbow. His other hand cupping your face.

You looked at Hwajin, "This doesn't mean I'm going to ignore your behavior towards the students."

"You know, seeing you protective over a bunch of snot nosed punks makes me want to fuck you until your nine months pregnant. It would keep you out of my hair while you were stuck waddling around home safe and sound. Win-win."

You gawked at him. Joking that you had yet to see any paternal instincts from him.

"I am actually great with children so long as their raised right. Like hell I'd let my kids turn out like these delinquents."

The two of you bantered back and forth while re-dressing. It was dark by the time you exited the school. Na was lighting a cigarette the minute he was past the schools threshold. You began to tell him goodnight where the two of you should naturally part ways but Hwajin caught you by the wrist, a confused expression thrown your way.

“Where do you think you're going? I'm not done with you yet," he said, cigarette hanging from his mouth. You were about to respond when he cut you off. "Round two will be so much better in my bed. You'll be lucky if You leave my place in time for work tomorrow. But we should probably feed you first. I gotta take care of my little nurse."

#hwajin na #smut

[lebrookestore]

tape 5: play

Pairing: Zhong Chenle x reader

Themes: angst, ex! au, college-ish au, small town au. It goes back and forth a lot

Warnings: heavy angst, bittersweet ending, swearing, its very sad, chenle is a jerk

Wc: 6k

Playlist: 2 kids by Taemin, Gone by Rosé, Instagram by Dean, I still do by Why Don’t We, Believed by Lauv

Taglist: @danishmiilk @channoticedmeuwu @chicksung @1-800-seo @blueprint-han @jenosslut @cupidluvstarrz @kkakkdugi @sweetlyjaem @vera-liscious @leetaeyonglover @kunrengui @unknown5tar @kisshim @intokook @mrkcore @coco-riki

Summary: A year after your boyfriend moved away, you find yourself sitting in your room with five tapes, earphones, a cassette player and what you hoped, and feared, was closure.

Authors Note: hello! this fic was supposed to be a small blurb but then i got inspired and lo and behold its a full fledged fic! I can’t believe I wrote this in two days sdfjfjkfjk. Feedback would be very much appreciated for this, since I’ve never written anything like this before ;-;

Midtown, almost got a place out of midtown, Instead I took a plane out of this town, And missed out on us 

~

It was a sunny Saturday morning, as you pulled into your driveway, coming back from the store. 

Parking the car and getting the bags, you walked up to the door, knocking it and waiting. You were met with your mother’s smiling face as she took one of the bags of groceries from you.

You lived in a small sleepy town, and attended the college there as well, which meant you still stayed with your parents. You were fine with that, you liked living there, and you could forgo the stress and anxiety of having to re adjust to a new place.

This was your home. It always had been.

Of course, you had been on holidays to other places, you had visited the other town, but when it came to it, you had always found yourself back where you started. There was no other place for you, there never would be.

It was the truth, but it held something bitter.

Then again, you had enough going on already, with being in your freshman year, straight out of high school, college life was very different. You had been to a total of two parties so far, courtesy of your best friend— Lia— dragging you with her. 

You had enjoyed them, but it wasn’t something you would voluntarily participate in again.

The workload was something that had definitely changed, bogged down with mandatory lectures and assignments, tests popping up like a bad smell, you had more than enough to occupy you.

“Something has arrived for you!” Your mother said, almost excitedly, “It’s on the table.”

You helped her put away the groceries, walking to your living room, eyes falling on the package sitting on the table. It was somewhat shabbily wrapped, with tape haphazardly stuck on it to keep it together, and a tag pasted on the top.

Picking it up, you pass it from your right hand to your left, feeling its weight, reading the little tag. It held your address, your name and another name you hadn’t seen in almost a year.

Your mind ran at a hundred miles per minute, wondering why it was here, why his name was on it. It made no sense to you.

“Darling? Are you okay?”

Your mothers voice snapped out of your reverie, nodding slowly, “I’ll be in my room, finishing off a project”, you said carefully, trying not to show any sort of emotion as you climbed up the stairs of your house, two at a time, making sure not to drop the package.

Closing the door, you place it on your bed, reading over the tag again, a bitter taste filling your mouth. A name you hadn’t thought of in a year coming back now. It was so random, so absolutely unnecessary.

You curled your fingers around the messy brown paper, tearing it open as your mind reeled. The crackling sound filled the silence as the contents of it make itself known to you.

A shoebox.

It’s dusty, a dark blue colour with a line of red running at its side. There were two holes on either end, lined with metal piping and you could just about make out the nike symbol on the top. You brushed your hand over it, the dust coming off easily and sticking to your fingers.

Why would he send you this?

His name sticks out on the tag like a sore thumb, reminding you of what you lost, mocking you. Always content with where you are, hmm? His voice comes back, as clear as day. It’s as if he’s standing there, giving you his chesire cat grin as he spoke the words.

Zhong Chenle.

Lifting the lid off the box, you’re thrown into confusion. A cassette player, a pair of earphones, and five tapes. Picking up the player, you smile briefly at the dramatic set up. He could’ve called you, or sent a message, so why did he take the pains of sending you something as old and unnecessary as this?

Then again, it had been a year since he stopped picking up your calls, since you stopped trying to call him.  A year since all contact had been cut off, as if he had never existed in the first place.

Sometimes you wondered if Chenle had been a hallucination. An imaginary friend.

Friend.

The questions filter in. Why? It had been a year, so why had he sent you this now? You had finally told yourself you were over it, that you didn’t need an answer, but somehow as soon as you did that, you found yourself sitting in your room on your bed with what could be it.

The tapes were numbered in permanent marker in his messy handwriting, from one to five, indicating the order in which they were to be listened to in. You picked up the first, slotting it in the player and waiting.

You didn’t know what you were waiting for.

You pressed play. There was crackling, but only for a moment, until  it went silent. Maybe this was all a mistake, maybe this wasn’t even happening. Maybe-

i] tape 1: you deserve to hate me

Hey

His voice cut through your spiraling thoughts as you froze in place. He sounded the same as you last heard him, a little muffled due to the recording but the same. At the same time he sounded like a stranger. There was silence for a moment again, before he spoke up.

This is stupid isn’t it?

You felt the urge to answer, but your mouth went dry. It had been so, so long, and even though you had adequate time to get over him, it suddenly felt as if you were treading unfamiliar territory once again. 

I-I don’t know why I’m doing this. I think it’s because I feel so horrible, I need an outlet. I guess speaking it into existence and recording it makes is my outlet. Making it all real.

But that’s fucking terrifying.

You don’t think you’re following, confused once again. 

Y/n

You hear him take a deep breath right after your name, and it sends a chill down your spine, hearing him say your name once again. You had almost forgotten how it sounded.

I don’t know if you’ll ever hear this, or listen to it. If you don’t I’ll actually be glad. You don’t deserve to, I’ve been a jerk to you. I’m sorry. I hope you hate me, I definitely deserve it.

I’m moving in two months.

The realization hits you, this had been recorded a year ago as well, two months before he left without a word or warning. It was old, he was here when he recorded it.

You didn’t quiet know how you felt, not yet anyways.

And you won’t know until I’m gone.

I’m moving to Korea, and I refuse to tell you, even if it makes me the bad guy, even if it feels worse, because that’s my dream. 

I got signed by a record label after sending them that demo I did —remember it? We both went to the studio together, you listening outside as I sang. You were right by my side, all the time.

Except now when I record this, except when I leave. 

I refuse to tell you, because the moment I do I know it’ll be real, realer than it is now as I say it. I don’t want to see the look on your face when I say I’m going, I know it’ll make me want to stay, but I don’t want to stay.

You knew exactly what he was talking about, you could recollect that day clearly. There was a small studio a little outside the town. That day, he had booked it for two hours to record a demo, his singing mentor with him and you tagging along.

It had always been like that, the two of you against the world, until, of course he left.

I physically can’t stay, I hate it here Y/n. It’s not for me, I want to get out, that had always been the plan. I want to get out and be free, I want to achieve my dreams. Maybe it’s selfish, maybe I don’t deserve a minute more of your time, but I want it all.

That’s why I’m not going to tell you —so I can have it all, at least until I don’t have you.

But you, you don’t deserve this, do you? Of course you don’t, but I suppose you’re the one with the shitty luck, you’re the one who ended up with me and now I’m going to hurt you. 

He laughs a dry, breathy laugh. It was half hearted, as if he was trying to get himself to believe the situation was funny. 

It’s not your fault I-fuck I’m sorry.

You heard a click and the tape died off, he had stopped recording there. The first tape was finished, and honestly, you didn’t know how to react. One part of you wanted to feel nothing, you wanted to put the player and the five tapes back into the box and send them away, or lock them in your closet to never find them again.

But the other part of you wanted to know more. You wanted to know how he felt, what went through his mind during that time. You wanted to know just how you lost Chenle, the first boy you ever loved.

Suddenly you felt overwhelmed, vulnerable almost. It was as if someone had opened up an old wound and left it open.

You got to your feet abruptly, pulling the earphones from your ears and dropping them on your bed, taking a step away and blinking rapidly. You couldn’t get caught up in the past, you couldn’t put yourself through that again.

But it was hard when the past was in your present.

Wasted, and all of my regret, I can taste it, If I had a time-machine, I would take it, And make it back to us

~

That night you couldn’t sleep.

The box sat on your desk, right next to your laptop, staring at you. You turned around on your bed, looking the other way, only to be met with the white of the walls.

You never liked the colour white.

It was too plain, too open for interpretation. It never had a solid answer. You liked stability, you wanted something permanent. You were the type of person that needed that reassurance.

Perhaps that’s why you were happy where you were, you didn’t find the appeal in starting over, because that meant nothing was certain. You stayed where you were because everything was already laid out for you.

It was like a colouring book in your little town, the lines all set out, everything drawn for you. Change meant you had to sketch everything from scratch. What if you messed up?

Needless to say, it was a good thing you weren’t an art major.

“This is ridiculous”, you whispered to yourself, sighing at the fact that you were now talking to yourself. You rolled over so that you were lying on your back, staring at the ceiling. The glow in the dark stars shone with their dull green light. You remember the day you had put them up, with Chenle.

You shared a lot of memories with him.

“Fucking hell”, you hissed, sitting up, swinging your legs off the edge of your bed and walking to your desk, sitting on the chair. Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you picked up the second tape, inserting it in the player and putting the earphones on, waiting for it to begin.

ii] tape 2: milk before cereal

I know I’m making some terrible decisions, I really do, but if there’s one thing I stand by, its the fact that milk definitely goes before the cereal.

Why am I talking about this?

Well, because today you came over, Y/n, you came over and the two of us were watching a movie, and in the middle of it, you decided you wanted to have cereal, specifically frosted flakes.

So what do we do? We have cereal because I can’t say no to you. You’re welcome by the way, honestly, I deserve the boyfriend of the year award.

A moment of silence.

No I don’t. I really don’t.

You bit your lower lip, shutting your eyes. It was the way he switched, the way his demeanor changes so suddenly that made you want to scream. Sometimes it felt like he was telling a story, one you knew and loved.

Only for the next moment to bring you down to reality, reminding you that all stories don't have happy endings.

Anyways, we got the cereal and you objected when I put the milk first, saying that it was wrong, but how? In what way? Here me out Y/n, I shall tell you why I’m right, even If I’m not actually talking to you.

You couldn’t help but scoff at this, shaking your head at Chenle. He had always had a flair for being dramatic in the littlest ways possible. It was endearing.

Putting the cereal first means it sits in the milk for longer! If you put the cereal last, you can have it crunchy! Isn’t that ten times better? Unless you’re one of the devils spawn and like soggy cereal. If so I’m hypothetically breaking up with you right here right now.

Ah...bad wording. I keep forgetting I have to break up with you. I don’t want to, is that selfish?

You deserve the truth, if only I was strong enough to give it to you. Staying silent is so much easier.

It’s not lying, not completely anyways. I’m not lying if I don’t tell you at all. I suppose it’s a half truth then, with the truth hidden in plain sight. 

*click*

Lying. That’s what he did, even though he spent the last few minutes of the tape trying to justify it, he lied. He trampled all over your heart without a single warning.

You had trusted Chenle, having known him since you were thirteen. He had completely destroyed that trust. Something like that couldn’t be fixed so easily, not even if he had sent you these tapes.

Then again, you didn’t know why he sent them.

You retreated to your bed, turning away from the tapes, the words and memories they held, facing white once again.

You had met Chenle when the two of you were thirteen, in eight grade math. The boy was failing the class, and one day you found him sitting early morning in class, with his head in his hands as he groaned over some sort of equation.

You had offered to help, and the smile he gave was the brightest one you had ever seen, he was practically grinning from ear to ear. That was the beginning of your friendship, and the two of you were inseperable.

Ninth grade it was confirmed that the two of you were best friends, sitting together, complaining about teachers together, going places together so your parents didn’t need to tag along.

In your last year of high school the two of you started dating, and when you had told your parents, they were ecstatic, confessing they had always thought the two of you would end up together.

He was always there for you, every time you needed him. You could give him a call and he would be outside your door. If you were feeling insecure or scared, he was always there to hype you up.

You had been best friends before, you were lovers then, and it was amazing. You loved everything about being with Chenle. You loved everything about him, from his toothy grin to his obnoxiously loud laugh.

You loved the way his eyes sparkled when he had an idea (which, for the most part, were absolutely terrible. Needless to say the two of you got in trouble a lot), when he sang for you when you stayed over, the way he would always make sure you were never cold.

You loved him.

It was written in the stars, you were meant to be, it was the perfect combination. Chenle was the right person for you- the perfect person.

A year later you woke up with him gone, no texts, no warnings. He had just gone, leaving you alone.

Right person, wrong time.

Monday came around sooner than you thought it would, the weekend passing in a blur as you walked out of your first class, spotting Lia leaning against the wall outside your class, scrolling through something on her phone.

She was an exchange student, not originally from your town, but had fit right in. Sometimes you wished you could be like that.

“Oh! You’re out! Listen, there’s a party on Friday and you’re coming with me”, she stated. It wasn’t a request, it was a fact, you were to go with her. In her own words, ‘if I didn’t exist you’d probably have no social life.’

To be fair, she wasn’t wrong.

You nodded defeatedly, walking with her down the hallway, “I assume you want to go because of the cute new guy?”

She glared, but didn’t refute your accusation, “His name is Mark”, she said, “And that is none of your business.”

You snickered, “Oh it so is, you like him don’t you? Is this going to be another one of your crushes?”

Lia was notorious for having a new crush almost every week, being a very flighty person, her mind changed before you could even say her name. This was a bit of a problem, considering you went to her for advice a lot.

Her indecisive nature was not the best for that.

She rolled her eyes at this, “He’s cute, why not? Wonder if I can get him to dance with me at the party. You’re going to be my hype woman-”

“And the sober buddy?”

Lia ignored that.

“Also there’s this new singer”, she said, handing you one of her earbuds, “apparently he came from here!”

Taking one of the earbuds, you were hit with a familiar voice. It sounded amazing honestly, catchy, everything a song needed, but it was the voice that hit you. You didn’t even need to ask Lia for the singer, swallowing the lump in your throat and glancing at her phone, which confirmed your suspicions.

Filling with some sort of dread, your hands immediately went to hold your hand, specifically the bottom where the cassette player and the tapes were. You had been carrying them around with you, as if scared they would disappear if you left them alone.

“Isn’t he good?”

You nodded, not daring to answer as you bit your lower lip, “Hey Lili, I need to use the washroom so see ya later”, you said, handing her the earbud and taking off in the other direction, pushing open the doors to the washroom and getting into one of the stalls.

You had stalled listening to the next tape all Sunday, you didn’t even know why, but hearing him sing, that fact that he had actually made it, it struck something in you. You wanted to feel proud of him, but all you felt was bitter.

Was it a coincidence that this new singer had come out- Chenle himself- right when you received the tapes?

Pushing the top of the toilet down, you took a seat, taking the player out and plugging in, you pressed play for the third tape, waiting for it to begin playing.

tape iii] ill miss our dates

Remember when we went for that field trip? Ninth grade? We sat in the back of the bus together avoiding the stares of our teachers when they told us to sit down?

Then they pulled us apart? Yeah, mean fuckers.

Anyways, that’s not what I wanted to talk about, I just felt like reminiscing for a sec there, but today we went of a date! Well, I mean we got ice cream and then went to the park, but hey, it was fun.

You smiled. He had always jumped from one topic to another without any meaning to either. Sometimes it was a frustrating habit, (you had been on the receiving end of these useless conversations several times, which ended with you glaring at him exasperatedly), but for the most part, extremely comical.

I’m going to miss that. I’m going to miss you. Your little smile — have I ever told you just how pretty your smile is? Your eyes light up and crinkle at the sides and its something I don’t think I’ll ever forget, even when I’m gone. 

You clutched the cassette player, marveling at the irony. He was talking about your smile, but why did you want to cry?

It’s a month left now, and I want to make the most of it. Tomorrow I’m taking you to the amusement part and then next week I’m surprising you with dinner. I guess doing things for you —for us — makes me feel better, like I’m compensating.

You deserve the world Y/n, and I want to see that world while you’re happy where you are.

You don’t deserve having to deal with me.

*click*

Your eyes burned, because you remembered each of those events. You had been so happy, so overjoyed at them. They burned with tears because there it was again, that reminder that you were destined to be stuck right where you were, because you were that idiot who was content.

But if someone, anyone, asked you at that very moment if you were happy, the answer would’ve been an outright no.

1 YEAR AGO

~

“Hey Chenle?”

“Hmm?”

“Why do you want to leave?”

The boy thought about this for a second, before smiling wistfully, “Don’t you want to know how it is outside home?”

“But everything I need is here.”

Your eyes held a question, you were genuinely baffled by his reasoning, the way he was so stuck of getting out. You studied your bewildered expression, shaking his head. “You’re lucky”, he said finally, “You know exactly what you want.”

“Of course I don’t, but I know what I need Chenle, and that’s all around me.”

He shook away his other thoughts, “Hey maybe we’ll go exploring the world together some day. 

You blinked, “You want me there with you?”

He nodded, grinning widely, “I want to take you along, Imagine, it’ll be fucking awesome, and hey this time there will be no teachers to separate us. We can even stand in the bus-if we’re taking a bus, that it.”

You laughed, “Maybe”, you mused, looking back down at your phone, “While I don’t exactly see the appeal, it would be fun to be with you.”

Chenle’s smile faltered, but he didn’t let it fall completely, wrapping his arms around you and sighing, closing his eyes and whispering something just loud enough for you to hear.

“Maybe.”

Why did it feel this way?

Chenle was right- you didn’t deserve this, you didn’t deserve to feel this way at all. It had been a year, so why did it affect you?

Why was it all happening at once?

You clicked your tongue, eyeing the player with contempt. You felt pathetic for being curious, for still feeling so attached to old news. It wasn’t as if it was going to change anything, so why?

Why did you still want to know?

Curiosity killed the cat. You wondered if knowing would somehow kill you.

No one was at home currently, so you sat in the living room on your couch. The items you were trying so hard to ignore were sitting on the small table in front of the couch, as if waiting for you to pick them up once again.

You wondered if you should tell Lia and ask her opinion about the situation. She may not be that helpful, but hell, she could help you burn the tapes if worse came to worse.

Sometimes you wished you had never met Chenle, that your history with him could be erased from your memories. You wished it never existed because fuck, it still hurt.

Taking a deep breath, you steeled yourself and pressed play.

tape iv] firsts with you

Do you remember our first kiss?

We were eighteen, in my room, playing Jenga. That was a year ago, oh god, I can’t even imagine, how has it been a year? You were wearing one of my shirts and jeans, your hair was in a ponytail. The two of us were sitting on the carpet on my floor.

You had successfully gotten one of the wooden pieces out of a risky area of the tower, but then it was my turn, it feel to the ground, destroyed.

I blamed you, and you laughed, and our banter continued. We argued and at one point I started tickling you to get you to shut up, because honestly-Jesus Christ Y/n you’re fucking stubborn.

Anyways I ended up on top of you and the two of us were laughing. You looked so pretty, hair messily scattered around your face as you attempted to get out of my hold. 

I leaned down and kissed you.

Your throat closed up as he spoke. Your eyes stung and you raked your hand through your hair, biting down on your lower lip. The way he was speaking about it, as if he would do anything to go back, it struck something in you.

Because if you had the chance, you would go back as well.

You tasted like that strawberry chapstick you liked to wear. I could tell you were surprised, because you didn’t kiss me back for a good two seconds  —which, by the way sent me into a panic for a moment there.

But then you kissed me, and fuck, it was like everything had stopped. I couldn’t think for a second, it was like the world had started spinning around me, and the only thing that was keeping me grounded, was you.

Was it supposed to hurt like this?

You sucked in a sharp breath, fingers fisted the material of your shirt as you tried keeping your composure. You didn’t want to cry, but he was making it so, so hard for you. 

You remembered how it felt when he kissed you, you were legitimately so confused, was he really kissing you? Your best friend, the boy you had loved quietly for so long, kissing you?

Chenle was your first kiss, and it was the most perfect first kiss you could have ever asked for, even if you were on the floor, with random Jenga blocks scattered around the two of you.

The smile you gave me after I pulled away, I wish I could remember it forever. It was goofy as you burst into giggles, and asked me, “What was that for?”

I blinked in surprise, wondering how you seemed so normal, when for me everything had changed. I had kissed my best friend, the one girl I care the most about.

I must have looked like a tomato oh god.

Instead of waiting for my to answer, you sat up, pulling me into another kiss. This time it was me who was unprepared. The kiss was messy, it had no structure or plan, but I realized in that moment, that I really liked kissing you, and I wanted to do it more often.

You became my girlfriend.

The wistful tone he was using was starting to affect you. You had loved Chenle, almost too much. You could almost feel that nostalgic happiness you felt that day when he kissed you for the first time, the disbelief and joy that wrapped around the two of you. 

A wave of sadness followed that nostalgia.

Our first date was so fucking awkward. We were at that little cafe you loved, you ordered a cheesecake and I got a smoothie, and then we sat in silence for a good five minutes.

It really shouldn’t have been that painful, considering we knew everything about each other already, then again that might be why it was awkward, I had nothing to ask you about.

So naturally I brought up school and that started it, the two of us complaining about the amount of assignments we had, and Mrs. Choi’s annoying squeaky voice- I swear to god that woman took a second for each word.

But I digress.

Slowly our conversation felt normal again, it was just us, eating cheesecake and drinking smoothies, together.

That wave of sadness crashed down upon you like a tsunami, trying to snuff you out. It felt like you couldn’t breathe, you were struggling to keep yourself together. You were struggling to stay afloat, you had lost any leverage you had that was holding you up.

You couldn’t fight the waves.

My flight is in two hours. It’s four in the morning and we’re about to walk through the door and get to the airport, but I wanted to talk to you once again, even if we’re not really talking.

I’m pathetic.

You’re sleeping, in your bed at your home, you don’t know I’m going because I’m the coward that refused to tell you the truth. I’ll be gone by the time you wake up and then you’ll know.

You’ll know how much of a waste of time I was.

And then you were angry.

You were angry because he had no right to just come back into your life like this, no fucking right to make you cry. He wasn’t even here, but somehow he had managed to make you fall apart just with his words, with his voice.

He had no right to tear your world apart, the little composure you had standing. You had finally accepted the fact that he was gone, you had moved on, and even tried to forget.

But here he was, making sure you could never forget.

You hated how selfish he was, how absolutely fucking oblivious. He had no clue, not even one as to how you felt when he just disappeared from your life, as if he never existed. He had broken you and here he was, breaking you again.

With trembling hands, you stopped the tape from playing any further, angry tears making their way down your face as you flung the player across the room. You had no intention of listening any further, you didn’t want to, you didn’t care.

Closure hurt more than him leaving.

You buried your head in your hands, letting yourself fall apart, but just this once.

tape iv] continued [unheard]

I’m sorry Y/n. I’m so fucking sorry. 

You don’t have to believe me, because I’m leaving anyways, so I suppose that cancels out my apologies huh? I’m the worst person you ever met. I’m not stopping, I’m not going to leave you a text.

Because I don’t want to hurt you anymore.

I’ll be gone before we could ever be.

Should’ve believed in us, while we existed, cuz now the whole things fucked, and just a figment of my imagination

~

Time heals all hurt, and reminders bring them back, cutting through your skin like a knife, making you bleed.

A week later, you found yourself sitting in your favorite cafe, the same cafe Chenle talked about in the last tape. You ordered a cheesecake and a smoothie, inserting the fifth and final tape into the player.

The last time you did this, you were left hurt and distraught, promising yourself you would never go back to listen to him again. You had put the shoebox in your closet, hiding it behind your clothes that hung from the rack.

Yet here you were.

You didn’t bother finishing the fourth tape, you didn’t see the need to. 

This tape, you observed, was newer looking, with less scratches on the plastic, even the marker on the side looked more recent, a little rushed if you went into detail. 

The cheesecake and drink arrived, and you took a bite, pressing play.

tape v] play

Hey.

He sounded a little different too, older perhaps. His voice was smoother, but he sounded unsure of himself. It sounded as if he was trying to figure out how to approach the topic. He was being cautious.

It’s been a while. I...I don’t know why I’m doing this. There’s no point- you’re not even here. I found these stupid tapes yesterday in my dorm when I was cleaning out and gave them a listen.

Silence.

I envy you, Y/n. I wish I was like you, happy wherever I was. But I’m not, and I probably caused you great unhappiness while trying to search for my own- but I was happy with you, so happy it was ridiculous.

I sabotaged that.

You sighed, realizing you felt nothing. You were tired of crying over Chenle, you were done doing that. Instead you felt empty, like you had been tired out, like it didn’t matter anymore. At this point you were to get it over with, to finish it off on  clean ending note.

My song comes out next week, and it’ll be done. I’ve made it Y/n, I’ve gotten to where I wanted to be, the place I had worked so hard to get to. I’ve sacrificed so much for this and it’s all been worth it- except one thing.

I don’t expect you to listen to my song, I just wanted to tell you. I..I hope you’re proud of me. Even if I was a jerk, I hope you can be proud, at least a little bit, because then I’ll have finally made it.

I miss you.

The same words are at the tip of your tongue, I miss you, I miss you so fucking much, but they never came out. They didn’t have to, it would be useless. He would never hear them.

Instead, you swallowed them back down.

And even though I made fun of you for staying home, I hope you’re happy like I am, I hope we’ll meet again one day. If we do I challenge you to a game of Jenga, loser buys the winner ice cream.

I-fuck this is the hardest part- but I hope you’ve moved on. One of us has to.

*click*

You don’t take the tape out of the player, you don’t touch it at all. You feel oddly calm as you take another bite of your cheesecake, savoring the strawberry reserve that it came with it. You could almost imagine yourself at eighteen again sitting opposite your new boyfriend.

You missed it, the memories that came along with it. That was it, you missed the feelings you had.

But you were okay. You would be okay right where you were, because that’s where you belonged. It hurt, yeah, but it had hurt back then as well. Now it was just a dull ache, all that was left was regret.

Regret that it didn’t work out, regret over unspoken words and unnecessary pain.

A familiar song filled the cafe as you smiled somewhat sadly, leaning back in your seat and closing your eyes.

“I’m proud of you Chenle”, you whispered, “Because you did what I couldn’t”

You left the cafe a little later, with the cassettes in your bag, an empty plate and the smoothie sitting on the table, untouched. After all, that smoothie wasn’t for you.

There was nothing to wait for anymore. You had loved and you had lost, Chenle was a stranger with your secrets and a familiar voice and that was it. 

You had forgiven him a long time ago, even without him being deserving of it. Now with all the loose ends being tied up, it felt like you could finally let go of him, you could finally move on.

And forget.

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[missnight0wl]

JC realised that not every player is fully familiar with the HP universe, so some things have to be explained. Of course, MC didn’t have to be turned totally ignorant just for that, but…

I'm sorry, but people can go do their research on some parts of HP Universe if they want to know details. This is a game that requires a constant internet connection, so I would assume if they are confused about something, they can use a search engine and get their answer. This isn't against you, please don't see this as me being angry at you because I fully understand what you mean, but this is so unnecessary and distracting narration-wise that it really boils my blood.

I really dislike how Jam City tries so hard to stick to the canon when said canon's own writer can barely stick to her writing and makes up stuff on the fly ("wizards shit standing up and magic it away" my ass). I really wish they would take more liberties with how this story is an AU than a canon story taking place before Harry's arrival.

I wish they would show creativity by enrichening the universe themselves through their fillers by taking protection under the AU umbrella.

For example, rather than spend time researching Floo Network, something any wizardfolk worth their salt would know about and how to use, they could have made up some sort of permit students need to use it during school time and MC having to navigate the bureaucracy and red tape of obtaining one, or going to Jae to get a fake one because they are denied one due to their Vault shenanigans.

Or hey, maybe Dumbledore made the Hogwarts' network not work on MC because, again, Vault shenanigans and the fact they are in year-long detention, which comes with more restrictions, so MC has to sneak to Hogsmeade to use Madam Rosmerta's fireplace!

In that, we can learn more about the daily wizard life and maybe Rosmerta would share stories about Jacob. Rakepick is involved too, so add her too!

All I'm saying is... Jam City is really not taking advantage of the more creative freedom they have with the universe since the author is not involved in the slightest beyond giving them the license to do work and earn money through it.

Oh, I absolutely agree with you! Although I still want to point out a couple of things.

1) As for checking the information on the Internet: people are fucking lazy. I mean, seriously. I’m constantly shocked how hard it apparently is for people to use Google. And surprisingly, it doesn’t really depend on people’s age. Of course, it’s kind of irrelevant here because it shouldn’t be the creators’ concern, I believe. Especially when we talk about the HP franchise. I imagine that most players know the most basic information.

2) I have no evidence for that, but I imagine that JC does have some legal restrictions as to how much freedom they have. I still believe that it might be why the Weasleys or Tonks were never available as “datable” choices, even as friends. Actually, now that I think about it, I wonder if it might also be why the SQ about Bill’s crush on Emily Tyler was removed… Of course, it’s kind of irrelevant here because JC does approach the canon rather freely in some other areas anyway. Let’s take Hogsmeade, for example. MC goes there whenever they want without problems. In the canon, it wouldn’t happen because you have Hogsmeade weekends. I’m pretty sure that Assignments in Y7 are entirely made up by JC, too, as we don’t really know how the seventh year looks in the books.

3) I do think that having fillers is the main reason why JC chose this method, so that’s why I discussed both arguments in my previous post you’re referencing. Of course, it’s kind of irrelevant here because you can still be more creative even with fillers, which you showed yourself in your message. Unfortunately, we’re dealing with JC’s laziness/pressure to produce quick content. It’s simply easier to create a scene where you just put a bunch of quotes from the HP wiki.

The situation with the Floo Network is a really good example of this problem, honestly. And I really like your ideas as to how it could be solved! They also could’ve focused on the problem of how MC travels once they don’t travel with Rakepick anymore. Like, the first time, we used Dumbledore’s office, right? It could stay like that (minus the excessive explaining, of course), but then we have to find the replacement. That way, the filler from before our first travel via the Floo Network moves to a bit later in Y5 – and it’s more interesting, too! Your ideas would still work as well. Personally though, I headcanon that there’s an illegal fireplace in the Kitchens (which should’ve been disconnected years ago) that some students use. It could actually be one of the reasons why Rakepick said that our detention would be enlightening.

Either way, we kind of go back to the problem I talked about earlier today: Jam City’s bad management. I think it’s totally possible the writers are not as creative as they could be because creativity requires more time, and JC is not giving them that.

#hogwarts mystery #hphm #jam city #ask #anonymous

[whumpiary]

this was originally a prompt fill from an intimate gestures list (i think) for ‘shoulder rub’, however tumblr ate the ask requesting it as i tried to post it so: anon from a couple of months ago, this one’s for you!

content warnings: whumper pov, emotional abuse tactics, retaliatory violence, blood, mild hand whump, dubcon vibes that lead to noncon at the very end

(please note that this piece definitely has the vibes, beats, and tactics of a classic abusive relationship. please look after yourself if reading.)

-

Christopher is finally finished for the day. He closes out of the last open tabs, saves the important documents before closing his laptop completely and abandoning the lot on the desk as he heads to the bar cart. The days have been long and frustrating this week. He’s glad that this one is over.

Cassius has been making a habit of coming to sit by him while he works. It’s very sweet. He rarely bothers Christopher. Just comes in quietly and curls up on the couch, lies on the chaise. Or, from time to time, settles beside him on the ground, resting his head on Christopher’s thigh.

Like a little housecat. 

He doesn’t talk until Christopher initiates, seemingly more than happy to self entertain or doze. He just seems to like the company. Or seems to know that Christopher does. Another warm body in the room. It’s incredibly sweet.

Today Cassius is sitting by the window, frowning over a textbook, a language tape in his ear. Mandarin, Christopher thinks. He seems to have taken to reading that better than the French, though he’s not half bad at holding a conversation in either these days. He works hard. Again, it’s very sweet.

Christopher takes his drink to the couch by the open fireplace and watches his boy for a moment, watches his lips moving around the shapes of words that he doesn’t dare speak aloud, finger dragging along the line of text as he studies it.

“My darling.”

Cassius looks up at him like a pet being called for food, eyes wide and sweet and questioning. Maybe a little hopeful. He pulls an earphone out to listen better. Lovely thing.

“Come sit,” Christopher says, pointing to the ground in front of him. 

Cassius stands, dropping his things on the table beside him and moves over with relative grace. He settles on his knees between Christopher’s legs without hesitation, rests his cheek on Christopher’s thigh with a coquettish little grin. Christopher laughs, running his hand through his boy’s hair. 

“What?” Cassius smiles as he kisses along the seam of Christopher’s trousers, looking up through his lashes, the perfect picture of innocence. “Is this not what you want?”

“It’s not what I was asking for,” Christopher corrects.

Cassius shifts closer anyway, nuzzling his inner thigh with a hum. “That’s not a no.”

“It is for now,” Christopher says, irritation running through him just a little at Cassius’ pushing arrogance. He makes himself keep the fond smile and turns his finger in a little spiral. “Turn around.”

Cassius looks up at him, shadow of a frown on his face before it melts back to placidity. It always seems to catch him a little off guard when the instruction he hears is contrary to one he can feel. It sets him off balance, maybe. A little uncertain.

But as soon as the moment it is there, it’s gone again. He smiles, freshly flirtatious, like he’d never hesitated, and rises on his knees to turn. “Yes, sir.”

Christopher’s lips press together in disapproval. The moniker is practically an inside joke at this point, the playful, rebellious pushback to his own insistence to be called by his name. Most days he finds the cheek of it sweet. But on days like today it’s like a needle under a fingernail.

Still, he pushes the annoyance down, intent on having a nice night. “Would you like a cushion?”

Cassius casts a look over his shoulder, “Depends what we’re doing, I suppose.”

Christopher laughs under breath and reaches for one, passing it to his boy, “Get comfy.”

Cassius obliges, tucking the cushion underneath himself and settling with crossed legs, slouching a little forward. Christopher reaches forward, and presses cool palms to Cassius’s back, smooth and flat. He delights in the way his boy breathes in response, deep and rich, muscles of the back expanding and relaxing. Like through his touch alone he gives Cassius absolution. 

He keeps them resting them a moment before he begins to circle, and then press, working the movements into a gentle massage of a back that has only ever learnt to tense and tense and tense. Through the touch, he can feel his own sharp edges get sanded down. His own stiffness start to ease. Relaxation. Alleviation. Relief.

“How was your day, darling boy?”

Cassius sighs, contented. “Boring.”

“Sorry to hear that. Who do I need to fire?”

Cassius breathes a laugh and then hisses a sharp inhale of pain as Christopher drives his thumb into deeper tissue. The contrast between the sounds is delightful. The satisfaction of balancing scales. 

Christopher runs the heel of his hand along the trapezius, the other keeping Cassius still with a hand to his collarbone, fingers slipped beneath the neckline of his shirt. Cassius lets out a breath that could nearly be a moan, swaying with the movements of Christopher’s hand, melting at the touch. 

“What, um…” Cassius says, sounding like he’s already halfway out to sleep. He well could be. He was always so interesting with touch. Like a wax figure melting and reforming under the heat of Christopher’s hands. Cassius tries again.“What have you been working on?”

“Just reading over some things,” Christopher says with a sigh, trying his best to keep it out of mind. “Putting off calling my accountant if I’m being honest.”

“It’s stressing you out?”

“It’s boring me, mostly,” he says. He runs his thumbs along the sides of his boy’s neck as he asks, delighting in the way Cassius shudders and lets out a sigh. Relaxing piece by piece. “Stressing me out... what makes you say that?”

“Mm. Dunno. You’ve been… tense lately.”

“I’ve been in a bad mood, you mean.”

There’s only a brief pause, “Maybe a little.”

Christopher hums, “The others hide from me when I’m in a bad mood.”

“Well I’m not the others.”

There’s an interesting flavour of insult to the way the boy says it that makes Christopher smile.

“No. You’re not.” He presses a kiss to the top of Cassius’ head and taps his shoulder with a finger. “Take this off for me, love.”

Cassius glances a little over his shoulder, gives him that flirting little smile before turning back forward and slipping the shirt from his head. He drops the shirt to the side.

Christopher hums, curling his hands over lovely, olive-skinned shoulders. “Gorgeous.”

Cassius laughs and tilts his head to the side, letting his hair brush by one shoulder and his neck stretch long. Christopher hums again happily at the invitation and rubs his thumb along the tendons there, following the curve of his boy’s shoulder.

“Shall we go down to the den tomorrow?” he asks softly. He presses a kiss to Cassius’ stretching neck, like it’s an invite to lunch. “It’s been a while.”

Cassius almost misses his cue. Christopher stops the circling motions of his hand, palm resting flat over a shoulder blade, the other still curled lightly over his opposite shoulder. The stilling seems to be enough to prompt. 

“Sure,” Cassius breathes, all exhale and attempted nonchalance. Then he echoes in the sweet little way he does when he’s nervous, “It’s been a while.”

Christopher hums ambivalently, “What, do you think? The flogger maybe?”

Cassius hums back, head tilting down as Christopher’s thumbs press up to the base of his skull. “Will I get to see Chook after?”

Irritation surges at the question. Prickles under skin. Christopher sighs, irritated and disappointed. “It always has to be a quid pro quo, doesn’t it, darling?”

Cassius tenses under his hands. Christopher pretends not to notice, thumbs working double-time into the tightening muscles, forcing his own satisfaction at watching the skin go red under his touch. He runs down along the grain of the muscle, digging his thumb into a place he knows bothers. 

“Didn’t mean it like that,” the boy mutters through clenched teeth, right shoulder hitching up as the left is pressed down.

“Then what exactly did you mean?”

“I don’t know, I just thought-”

“No, you didn’t think. That’s the problem, you never think.”

“That’s not-”

“You already knew I was in a bad mood tonight, you couldn’t have just said yes?”

“I’m sorry, I was just-”

“I ask you for something I need and your first thought is oh, what do I get for it?”

“That’s not-”

“There is very little I don’t give you, Cassius, and yet-”

“I know.”

“-the second I want something from you that you find mildly distasteful-”

“I know.”

“-you turn it into some unnecessary, bargaining manipulati-”

“Jesus I know, alright? I get it. I won’t fucking see him, I was just asking. I didn’t mean it like that.”

The snapping tone. The raised voice. The breathless silence after.

How… disappointing.

Cassius knows — and Christopher knows he knows — he just made a mistake. 

Christopher pulls his hands back from Cassius’ shoulders, watching them raise up to his ears like that could possibly protect him. He sighs, and picks up his drink. He takes a slow sip.

A pin could drop and they’d hear it all the way at the gates of the Estate.

“Turn around,” Christopher murmurs. Cassius does, dark eyes cast down and skirting to the side. No, they can’t be having that. “Look at me.”

His boy looks up dutifully, trepidatious and tense. Christopher takes another slow drink, gaze locked on Cassius’. He slaps his pretty face.

Cassius’ head snaps to the side hard and fast, eyes slamming shut in self protection. He stays frozen in the wake of it, either in shock or just carefully awaiting his next instruction so as not to misstep again. His pulse is visible in his lovely throat, the little mole by his jugular keeping time.

Christopher offers out his scotch, “Drink.”

Cassius takes the glass, hand just barely shaking with adrenaline. Somewhat impressively, he downs the whole thing in one swig. Christopher watches, impassive, and puts his hand out for the empty glass to be returned to him.

His boy places it back in his hand in slow motion, holding eye contact the whole time, searching Christopher for answers of what will come next. Poor thing. It must be difficult for a telepath to predict the next course of action when the person they’re reading hasn’t decided yet.

Christopher waits for Cassius to pull his hand back from the glass entirely. And then he shatters the thing on the side table.

Cassius flinches, shards of embossed crystal exploding across the carpet, along the table-top, flicking out to glance off his boy’s arm, and leaving the jagged-edged base of the glass in Christopher’s hand.

Cassius keeps his eyes down and wide. He’s still and tense. Jaw clenched. Whole body shaking.

He doesn’t know what comes next. Isn’t sure how to move. 

Christopher is placid and steady. The burst of violence, Cassius’ involuntary reaction alongside,  was very pleasing. Satisfying. Prescription medication for the irritated soul.

Christopher takes a long, deep, calming breath through his nose. Sits forward. Looks at his boy.

“Pick a hand, my love,” he murmurs softly. 

Cassius glances up, and then down again, closing his eyes momentarily before the jaw clenches and the shoulders lower and with a tiny catching breath, he resets himself. Christopher tilts his head to the side. Cassius knows all his choreography, at least. Even when he fumbles his lines.

Cassius starts to pull up his left hand, and then, calculating, switches to his right.

How very sweet. 

Christopher takes the offered hand in his own, uncurling lax fingers with the brush of his thumb. Cassius has lovely fingers. Long and slender, pretty pink nails contrasting brown skin. There was a time Cassius used to bite those nails so short they’d bleed. Christopher has taught him to keep them longer and neater. He prefers them that way. Prettier.

Christopher takes the base of the glass and places it face down in his boy’s open hand. The circle of it fits satisfyingly well over the dip in the palm. Christopher circles the shape with the tip of his index finger, as though he were making a wine glass sing. How perfect.

For a few seconds, that’s all there is: pointed glass balanced on creased skin. And then he presses in.

Cassius winces of course, but makes no noise, as the glass cuts through the skin. Christopher watches carefully, releasing his breath as he sees the blood prickle up, beading alongside the glass. It soothes something in him, these slow moments of pain. Like the slow release on a pressurised bottle. 

He holds Cassius’ hand in place with a gentle touch to the wrist and with his other hand closes each finger, one by one, and then the thumb. He closes his own hand over Cassius’ fist, and then the other. Presses it closed and closed and closed around the glass.

Blood looks so very pretty decorating the cracks of a clenched fist.

“Look at me,” Christopher murmurs. Dark eyes flick up. Rare tears sit there, held barely back by long lashes. A blink. They spill over. Christopher breathes in deeply like one might seeing a natural wonder. In another circumstance he’d call him beautiful. But beauty is not what this moment here is about.

His fury is not a fire that can be doused with something as easeful as beauty. It’s a burning thing that turns his ribcage white-hot, generates its own energy.

He uncurls Cassius’ hand mechanically, when the tears have just started to make constant, glistening tracks down his cheeks, when the thin trails of blood have started to rundown his wrist, converging at the vein. He plucks the glass from his boys hand. The blood wells in that perfect little dip of the palm.

Cassius keeps his hand perfectly in place as Christopher sets the shards on the side-table, arm trembling, eyes fixed on the rivuleting blood. 

Christopher trails a line up 

There’s a faint little mark on the inside of Cassius’ left wrist. A small, smooth, circular thing that could pass off as an old burn, or a birthmark. Pink and glossy. Practically embossed. His brother has the same one. He flinches as Christopher runs his thumb over it, smearing blood like he’s decorating the little mark.

“It’s been a while. Hasn’t it, my love?” he says, a whole history laid out on the words.

“Yes,” Cassius replies, through a husky throat. His shoulders hitch up, tense and protective. And then he echoes, “Been a while.”

Christopher presses his thumb to the circular mark.

It takes almost exactly six seconds.

It’s a fascinating thing, to watch the body heal itself in real time. Or, not real time perhaps, but rapidly. To watch it stitch itself back together cell by cell, cut by cut, piece by piece. A wildly intelligent dance of recovery, executed by perfect machinery. And then all that’s left for evidence of harm is the small puddle of blood in the centre of his palm, the blood streaking down towards his elbow. 

Meanwhile, Christopher knows, somewhere deep in the back rooms of East Wing, Henri Drake’s palm will be opening up in tiny lacerations. He’ll feel the sting of glass that never touched him biting through skin that was never directly wounded. A punishment for a crime he never committed. He’ll spend the next week with the mistakes of his brother cut into his skin, and then he’ll wear the scars. Poetry, really.

Cassius looks at his blood-stained hand with hollow eyes, looking less wounded and more like he somehow knew this was coming. Maybe he did. He’d known exactly the sort of mood Christopher has been in this week.

“I’m ready for my apology now, Cassius.”

Cassius, as ever, knows all the right steps to the dance.

He shifts forward, hands going to Christopher’s thighs, knees slipping off the pillow and onto the tiny shards of glass still decorating the carpet. Those cuts he could keep, Christopher decides. A nice two-fold reminder.

The touch, expertly competent, does wonders at easing the rest of the tension sitting along his spine. Cassius’ eyes on him, tears still drying on his cheeks, make it even better. And that mouth… that lovely mouth.

After a long, hard day, a tense and frustrating week, what was better?

Relaxation. Alleviation. Relief.

Cassius takes him to the base. How sweet.

#noncon cw #dubcon cw #emotional abuse cw #abusive relationship cw #christopher #cassius #wip to wob #thank you all for helping me pick a thing to finish! #smarmy tucker tomorrow #ily

[himboarcher]

reasons i've seen folks say that grad critics hate grad:

they hate travis (in fairness, i’ve def seen some comments of people shitting on trav for the sake of shitting on trav, but it’s not super common and typically gets downvoted into oblivion on reddit.)

it's not balance / travis isn't griffin (???????)

they hate neurodivergent people (again, in fairness, i have seen a handful of comments that could come across this way! but most of the time when travis being ADHD or his NPD is brought up, it's by defenders saying that criticizing travis is ableist because he's neurodivergent or, in one particular comment, infantilizing him bc of it and literally comparing grad to putting a kid's artwork on the fridge. there were some comments early on that pointed to him being a narcissist as the reason for things people disliked about grad, but everyone seems to have realized that that's a shitty train of thought and left it behind.)

they're just toxic haters (again, there are a small handful of people like this because this is the internet, but the genuine criticism greatly outweighs their bullshit. i 100% think that the people, which is mostly just one dude who is also insufferable on reddit, who have been responding rudely to positive tweets under the episode announcements lately are out of line and need to stop. there's been an influx of that lately, presumably because people are frustrated that after over a year of grad going on, there's been no improvement to most of the major issues. that's still no excuse to be a dick to folks, though.)

vs some of the actual reasons i don't like grad:

the racism / racist tropes, and the way that they’ve straight up ignored this criticism and will likely never acknowledge it. pretty wild considering a core tenet of their brand is their willingness to acknowledge when they’ve messed up and do their best to course correct.

clumsy attempts at inclusion that are shallow and often end up being fairly offensive ("...ask me about my wheelchair," anyone?)

on a related note: i don't think that travis had bad intentions, but as an nonbinary person, it feels othering to me that travis only has enby characters give others their pronouns unprompted. i'm thinking specifically of kai here. having listened to their introduction, i don't think it's as bad or awkward as some people have said, but i can't remember travis ever having another NPC tell the PCs their pronouns, especially not a cis character. it's not a huge deal, but it's something that rubbed me the wrong way. admittedly, i don't think it would bother me so much if travis hadn't dropped the ball so much with performative inclusion in the past.

okay i'm putting the rest under a read more because even without getting into all of the problems i have with it, this got Long.

little to no player agency. player choices are ultimately meaningless and have little to no effect on the world. even when he seems to go along with a plan they come up with, it always ends with them having to go back to travis' pre-written script (see: subpoenaing the xorn, but not really because they had to go with travis' original plan of "send the xorn home through the rift".) the players repeatedly get told things about what they think or feel or what they've been doing to an unnecessary degree. fitzroy is the only one who really gets space to play and decide things for himself, and that's only because travis has decided he's the main character.

the NPCs are all too nice and willing to give the PCs anything they ask for and more, unless the PCs are trying to follow their own plan and then the NPCs are completely useless. but honestly, aside from gray, all of the NPCs are just.... nice. travis refuses to even let his antagonists be mean or cruel or even more than just slightly rude, because that'd be a bummer and we don't want that! the "twist" of gordy the lich king actually being polite and chill is not a twist at all because everyone is like that in this world. the NPCs are also wildly overpowered, but then suddenly absolutely useless when the PCs actually want their help.

too many cliffhangers that are dropped immediately at the beginning of the next episode. i feel bad for travis because so many of these cliffhangers actually set up good momentum and seemed like things were gonna get interesting, but almost every single time he just dropped them at the beginning of the next episode. like when althea showed up to interview the boys and the next episode started with travis being like "actually you went to sleep, she said she'll be back tomorrow!"

that time travis specifically said in his exposition dump that the thundermen left their horses behind because they thought the centaurs might be offended by them riding horses, only to later on rag on them for being surprised that the centaurs had horses they could ride.....

also the centaur arc in general, but i already listed racism above, so.

the way that the toxic positivity and parasocial tendencies in the mcelroy fandoms have made a large portion of the fandom take ANY criticism as a personal attack on travis and/or on themselves for enjoying something others consider bad, either morally or just quality-wise. it’s okay to admit that something you like has problematic elements or just isn’t as good as it once was. you can and should engage critically with the media you consume.

related to above: the way travis has handled genuine criticism, which is to throw public tantrums on his twitter or make weird passive aggressive tweets & ultimately ignore all the genuine criticism and advice he's been offered by claiming it's all subjective, even after he specifically asked for it and set up an email for folks to send in genuine, objective advice for him (after he threw a tantrum on twitter and replied to someone's criticism publicly, which resulted in his followers dogpiling on that person bc how dare they insult their internet best friend). while i was writing this last night, he actually announced that he’s taking a break from Twitter and acknowledged that he’s been using it as an echo chamber where he can easily get validation from folks, and honestly i’m happy for him that he’s recognized this problem and is stepping away for a while! i hope he’ll genuinely use this time to reflect on how he’s been behaving and find a more healthy way to use social media. i’m leaving this point in because i think his Twitter being such a positive echo chamber was encouraging him to do stuff like this, and him somewhat acknowledging his behavior doesn’t mean it can no longer be discussed.

rainer. extremely cool concept in theory and i was very into it until that awkward "does anyone want to ask about my wheelchair?" moment. also when travis had her use her mobility aid to RAM INTO A DOOR instead of just fucking knocking???? also all the times travis has tried to force a romantic relationship between her and fitzroy, despite fitzroy displaying no interest in her in that way. also, just to clarify: as an ace person, i don’t think this is aphobic! (and it’s kind of a stretch to call it that imo, especially since griffin never explicitly said that fitzroy's aromantic!) i just think it’s weird and awkward and a little uncomfortable for me personally, mostly because it reminds me of the times i’ve been in similar situations.

less of a problem than a lot of the other stuff and more just bad writing, but the forced emotional moments. in general, nothing in grad feels earned (why are the boys heading a war? when they have multiple actual heroes with combat experience on their side and a supposedly powerful secret organization? and the thundermen are like 21 years old max and have only had like ~10 fights in the entire campaign?) but there've been a couple times where travis has tried to force unearned emotional moments, presumably because he knows people enjoyed those with the last campaigns. but the difference is that in balance, the big emotional moments happened because they were earned. in grad, it's just travis throwing a baby pegasus at us for a few minutes and then the next time she shows up, it's supposed to be a tearful goodbye.

there are absolutely no stakes. remember when the thundermen got told that if they left, gray would kill 10 students? and then they left and came back and it turns out that what gray actually meant was, "i'll tie ten students who are mostly nameless NPCs to a tree and throw some dogs at them that you can easily stop in time, then throw a tantrum because how dare you but i'll leave before you can really do anything to hurt me lol" travis did have fitzroy's magic get taken away, but like. it didn't really do anything? also all he had to get it back was be coerced into using drugs by an authority figure and trip in the woods?

we're told that the school is weird and the hero system is corrupt, but the world of nua is still presented as more of a liberal utopia than anything? althea getting fired because of a corrupt villain is the only time we've somewhat seen corruption, but even then, she was still allowed to get (what seems to me, anyway, but admittedly i don't know for sure bc nothing about the HOG makes much sense) a fairly important job from the very people who stripped her of her hero license or whatever the fuck heroes need?

travis doesn't actually seem to understand how capitalism or bureaucracy works and just chalks up everything to "red tape." also more on the rest of the boys than him specifically, but the "let's destroy capitalism!" thing turning into just pushing some filing cabinets over................... okay.

and one last piece of extremely subjective criticism: it's just kind of.... boring. i think a lot of people, myself included, would be willing to overlook 90% of the problems with graduation if it didn't feel like such a slog to get through.

also people saying that we can't or shouldn't criticize graduation because it's "free" is absolutely absurd for several reasons. first, something being free does not make it above criticism. second, there ARE people who directly financially support the show with monthly donations. three, there's a difference between something being free and something being not for profit. podcasting is their full time job. they make their living off of money made from TAZ and MBMBAM (and probably their other shows to a lesser extent). this not a fun home game that they are graciously recording and sharing with us. it is a product they are producing that they make money off of, both from ads in the episodes and merch & books based off of these podcasts. they have marketed themselves as professionals, and both griffin and travis have been on panels where they are marketed as professional DMs and appear alongside other professional DMs (which makes it incredibly frustrating when people say that travis is just a newbie DM and we can't criticize him because of that. if he's a newbie, then he should not be taking part of panels as a professional DM where he speaks as an expert). TAZ is free in the same way that an episode of NCIS is free. i may not pay for it directly, but the creators are paid to create it and profit off of me consuming this product. so saying we should be grateful for any mcelnoise that the benevolent good boys share with us and that we're not allowed to criticize it "because it's free" is absolutely wild.

#negativity cw #i guess #anyway this is not meant to say that you cannot enjoy grad. #but i'm tired of folks on this website acting like there aren't genuine problems with it #and saying that people just dislike it bc they hate travis etc etc #taz graduation #i genuinely don't expect anyone to read this bc it's so long #but here ya go. #long post

[melatovnik]

ok ur top faves wangxian fics go

hey yati! 🥰️

alright, so first things first, here’s a big wangxian fic rec list i made a while ago, if you wanna check that one out too! consider the list below part 2. these are all my faves so far since my last rec list (as you'll quickly see, i have a LOT of faves).

and just a fyi/psa/disclaimer for anyone reading this: some of these fics have disturbing themes and/or kinky/freaky sex! make sure to check the authors’ tags and notes before reading. also, much like my first rec list, there’s going to be a mix of mdzs and cql canon, characterizations, dynamics, etc., so bear that in mind.

....ok GO

live from new york by varnes | rated E | 87K words | THE snl au fic!!!! yes, by snl i mean saturday night live. this is perhaps the best and funniest story i've ever read, period. varnes is a fucking genius. read this fic.

Wei Ying lets out a long, ugly groan. “I am fine, Lan Zhan. Everybody is overreacting, it’s so embarrassing for all of you.”

“You had undiagnosed pneumonia, which you walked around with for weeks until you passed out during dress,” Lan Wangji corrects him. “It got a big laugh, until everyone thought you were dead.”

He keeps his voice even and does not tell Wei Ying that it had been Lan Wangji who caught him, who called the ambulance, and who rode with him to the hospital, where he was yelled at by nurses who wanted to know why he hadn’t noticed that Wei Ying couldn’t stop shivering or string proper sentences together.

“Rumors of my demise have been vastly overstated,” Wei Ying says. “Anyway, I’m already feeling much better. Basically fine. Really almost completely back to normal, so stop babying me and tell me why the fuck you let your stupid brother hire the worst man in the world to host our show.”

-

OR: the one where they all work at SNL, Yanli's ex-boyfriend is hosting, and that's just the beginning of everybody's problems.

swiss cheese theory by varnes | rated M | 19K words | sequel to snl au fic!!!!!! another must-read.

The Swiss Cheese model of accident causation likens human system defences to a series of slices of randomly-holed Swiss Cheese arranged vertically and parallel to each other with gaps in-between each slice. Defences against failure are modelled as a series of barriers, represented as slices of the cheese. The holes in the cheese slices represent individual weaknesses in individual parts of the system. The system as a whole produces failures when holes in all of the slices momentarily align, permitting "a trajectory of accident opportunity," so that a hazard passes through holes in all of the defences, leading to an accident.

OR: Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian go to the courthouse.

OR: “Sweethearts,” the city clerk had said, very gently, “you’re already married.”

best friends forever by varnes | rated T | 17K words | alright, so like, strictly speaking, wangxian isn't the focus of this fic, BUT. this fic is so good!! it is seriously so good, and it made me fall in love with jin ling/lan jingyi. also, it's varnes, so read it!

It happened like this: Jin Ling was a sect leader now, which was, and Jingyi really meant this, fucking hilarious. There were few things funnier, in his honest opinion.

Because he was young, and inexperienced, and also — it had to be said — a real shithead, there was apparently some belief amongst his advisors that the best way forward, to promote the picture of a stable, mature sect leader who absolutely did not cry at the drop of a hat, was for Jin Ling to get married.

-

OR: Jin Ling and Jingyi get engaged.

Things spiral from there.

For a Good Time, Call by ScarlettStorm | rated E | 171K words

The picture is of Wei Ying, that much is clear. It’s of a lot more of Wei Ying than Lan Zhan is used to seeing. He supposes that, technically, Wei Ying is dressed. It’s a bare technicality, since one of Wei Ying’s hands has rucked up his black tank top practically to his collarbone, showing a long expanse of abdomen and one nipple. Sweat beads on his sternum, catching the light like jewels. His other hand is--Lan Zhan feels his eyes widen, as though unable to look away from a train wreck--on his hip, one thumb tugging down the waistband of a pair of red briefs. Wei Ying is biting his lower lip and looking directly into the camera, sultry, his eyes dark and inviting. His erection is obvious, outlined against the red of the briefs and framed carefully with the hand on his hip. Lan Zhan’s brain goes wildly, screamingly blank.

Or: Lan Zhan accidentally finds his best friend's OnlyFans account and has an ongoing emotional crisis.

love, in fire and blood by cicer | rated E | 360K words | i actually haven't finished this one since i was reading it when it was a WIP, i need to reread it and catch up fjdskl;fjsd, but i love it very much!!!!!! oh my god he wanted to look nice for his husband..... 🙃 [screams with mouth closed]

"You want Wen Ruohan dead," the Patriarch continued idly. "You want his corpse puppets eliminated. You want his halls burned to the ground and his soldiers disemboweled and begging for mercy. Have I about covered it?"

He gave another knife-edged smile.

"But what will you give me in return?"

"We would be willing to offer quite a bit in return for Wen Ruohan's defeat," Lan Xichen admitted. "But I'm afraid we don't know what an immortal such as yourself desires. Please advise us."

The Patriarch waved at hand at the front of the tent. "I want Second Young Master Lan."

(In which the Sunshot Campaign ends through an arranged marriage to the Yiling Patriarch, and Lan Wangji suffers the mortifying ordeal of falling in love with his own husband.)

how to fall in love with a catfish: a guide by wei wuxian (disaster rat) by bwyn & Yuisaki | rated T | 55K words

A new plan hatches in Wei Wuxian’s head. If this nocturnal, bottom-feeding, slimy, invasive mudcat posing as a beautiful actor thinks he can sway Wei Wuxian with animal pictures and a sob story and an unbelievably stilted way of texting with still no dick pictures in the first five minutes of conversation, he has another thing coming. Wei Wuxian’s got it, alright, he has this in the fucking bag.

~

Wei Wuxian plots to expose a catfish using strategic memes and turtle pictures while wiggling his way out of family dinner. Lan Wangji just wants companions.

there’s no promised goodbye here by Yuisaki | rated T | 54K words

Jiang Cheng stares at him. “Didn’t you say you broke up five months ago?”

“Yeah.”

“So why do you have a picture of you two kissing taped to your fridge?”

“Because we’re too broke for magnets,” Wei Wuxian explains, then considers that statement. “Well, I’m too broke for magnets. Lan Zhan probably refuses to buy them because he’s trying to have lofty ideas about the moral failings of materialism.”

~

Wei Wuxian navigates the trials of living with his ex-boyfriend in apartment 1301.

paint smears on sunny days by SnowshadowAO3 | rated E | 54K words

To say that he runs to his car would be incorrect, as he is a Lan, and running is both undignified and unnecessary unless in immediate danger. Nor does he slam his key into the ignition, or aggressively swerve around the cars on the freeway, or have a mild panic attack at the fact he is picking A-Yuan up late from school for the first time ever.

He comes close, though.

By the time he arrives, it’s 4:35PM, and he has imagined about fifty different worse-case scenarios. The door is partly open when he gets to it, a messy label of 104B—Art Room scrawled with chalk on a placard next to the faded wood. As he opens it fully, he expects to see a wailing, terrified child, or perhaps a scene of utter misery and betrayal.

What he finds is his son, hands covered in paint, being sung to by a beautiful, dark-haired stranger.

“Ducks live in the pond, yellow ducks, happy ducks!”

Lan Wangji stops in his tracks.

(Or: Falling in love with your son’s art teacher, in five parts)

a paper friend by sunzu | rated G | 5K words

Lan Wangji finds a paperman far from its body and helps get it home.

-Or-

Lan Wangji unknowingly meets Wei Wuxian for the first time.

All Caught Up by brooklinegirl | rated E | 37K words

"Betrothed," Wei Ying says indignantly.

Lan Wangji can't stop his gaze from darting up to him. Wei Ying understands. Wei Ying is looking at him, wide-eyed and upset on his behalf.

"And you don't even like her," Wei Ying says.

"I don't even know her," Lan Wangji says quietly.

"But even if you did—" Wei Ying starts.

"I wouldn't want this," Lan Wangji finishes.

Lead Me On Through by mrsronweasley | rated E | 55K words | oh look another canon-era practice kissing fic fjdskfl;ds

"Who do you think your betrothed is?" Wei Wuxian asks, sprawling out in front of Lan Zhan and enjoying the prim thinning of his lips at the question. He shouldn't be sprawling—they're in the library, for one, and Lan Zhan is studying, for another—but he can't help himself. Wei Wuxian is a sprawler.

"I do not believe this to be of importance," Lan Zhan responds, without turning his gaze away from his book.

"What!" Wei Wuxian sits up. "How can you say that? Of course it's important! This is the person you'll be with for the rest of your life, Lan Zhan."

I Started From the Bottom/And Now I'm Rich by x_los | rated E | 58K words | ok so i know that in my spiel above i said to mind the tags, etc., but actually pay no mind to the first two relationship tags for this fic. i PROMISE that this isn't that sort of dead dove fic fjdksl;fjs;lifkj. i. it. it's wangxian. don't sweat it. don't even trip. just—this fic fucking rules. it's completely insane and it slaps. wei ying is a girlboss and a bitch and i like her So Much

“First, you get the money. Then you get the power, respect - hos come last.”

Wen Qing traps Wei Wuxian in the Demon Slaughtering Cave, but Wei Wuxian isn’t interested in being the beneficiary of the Wen Remnants’ noble sacrifice. His efforts to free himself accidentally send him back to the beginning of the Sunshot Campaign. Coreless but armed with demonic cultivation, knowledge of the future and his wits, Wei Wuxian takes advantage of this opportunity to come out on top of both the war and its aftermath—before either has a chance to happen—by marrying and swiftly burying the cultivation world’s worst men.

Lan Wangji is confused, hurt, and uncomfortably aroused by Wei Wuxian’s improbably elaborate series of Sect-themed bridal negligees.

rather cruelly used and rather reserved by x_los | rated M | 14K words

In the month between Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian leaving Yi City and their attending the cultivation conference in Lanling, Wei Wuxian discovers a locked room in the Jingshi. It is a mystery that clever and curious Wei Wuxian is doing everything in his power to avoid solving.

But the rose was awake all night for your sake/Knowing your promise to me by x_los | rated E | 8K words | resentment tenties~

The resentful energy occupying Wei Wuxian's body like an enemy army is very interested in giving him Lan Wangji, tied up with a bow.

Wei Wuxian is hoping that Lan Wangji (who is far too noble and very keen to save Wei Wuxian's misguided soul) doesn't find out about any aspect of that.

Mo Money, Mo Problems by x_los | rated M | 3K words

After the Mo family perishes in distressing and mysterious circumstances, Wei Wuxian, still reeling from his reincarnation, tries to dip back into their manor for a little travelling money. (Forward planning! What a concept!) Lan Wangji catches him immediately, and is highly unimpressed (read: furious) with Wei Wuxian’s decision to run away from him in the first place.

Standing Engagement by x_los | rated M | 18K words

Lan Wangji believes he and Wei Wuxian are essentially engaged. While they search for his missing betrothed, he accidentally reveals as much to Jiang Wanyin. Now everyone in the cultivation world knows about the imminent marriage, except for Wei Wuxian himself.

Coming Back to Yourself by acernor | rated E | 22K words | genital swapping for fun and nonprofit!

Lan Wangji gets cursed with a ~woman's body~ and has to orgasm to go back. Since he's 1) a virgin 2) super repressed and 3) SUPER gay, he has no idea what to do.

If only he had a super nosy friend who's read lots of erotic novels who could help him figure out what to do... hm...

Save a Sword by etymologyplayground | rated E | 5K words | a fic inspired by the above fic!

Lan WangJi presses a kiss into his throat, which draws a shivering whine from him. "Like this," he agrees, his voice so low. Then he slides one warm elegant hand down Wei WuXian's chest to his belly, and then to his — to his —

--

fan ending for acernor's fabulous masterpiece "coming back to yourself" because i'm a huge goofball and that fic fucks

Our Eyes on the Road by etymologyplayground | rated E | 23K words | brought to you by lore (the author) and Orville Peck's hit song Drive Me, Crazy

Lan Zhan is silent for a long moment, and the van's speakers quietly pipe the second song on the album into the empty space between them. Then Lan Zhan shifts his hand a little on Wei Ying's leg, presses his fingers once into the meat of his thigh. "Alright," he says.

"Alright," Wei Ying echoes in a wheeze.

"Is that better?" Lan Zhan checks, because he is a good boy. Then he spreads his fingers out a little wider, because he is evil and must be stopped.

-

Lan Zhan is driving to Chicago. Wei Ying tags along.

Worship you till morning comes by feyburner | rated E | 7K words

A meet-cute, a first date, a sleepover.

Let's take a ride round the curves of desire by feyburner | rated E | 6K words | yeah........... uhh, yeah.

Wei Ying was sprawled on the floor in front of the oscillating fan when Lan Zhan got home from work.

The Roots Grow Riotous by hansbekhart | rated E | 105K words | a beautifully crafted, emotionally harrowing fic. i should warn you (since it's not quite tagged as such) that while wangxian is endgame, the overall story doesn't have the sort of happily-ever-after ending you might expect. i’ve seen it described as open-ended but hopeful and cathartic, which i find to be a pretty accurate assessment

Sometimes Lan Zhan doesn’t work through lunch. Sometimes he makes conversation with coworkers in the halls. Sometimes he goes home instead of spending the last hour trawling through Grindr. But mostly, that’s exactly what he does. The sameness is comforting. His life spools out in easily measured increments: capsule collections, yards of hand dyed textiles, ninety day lead times, sell through figures, cost of goods sold.

Every date in manufacturing can be calculated backwards and forward from a single horizon point: the date that the goods must arrive into the country where they'll be sold. Other than that, nothing else really matters.

总有一天; a place to hide (can’t find one near) by yiqie | rated E | 76K words | i can't recall a fic ever affecting me as much as this one did. one of the best stories i've ever read. so, so, so crushingly beautiful. it's viscerally distressing/upsetting at times, especially at the start, so please heed the tags and author's note (they provide a way to skip the beginning scene if needed)!

That’s just the thing, isn’t it? Wei Ying feels nothing. He doesn’t feel anything, and this emptiness should scare him. He knows he should be scared. He wants to be scared. He isn’t. Fear itself is never scary; fear is just a response. It means that your body wants you alive. It’s the absence of terror that scares him.

请兔子吃晚饭; treating a bunny to dinner by yiqie | rated T | 3K words | read this one to recover from the above fic

It’s not really about the food. Being able to share it in the same space is its own kind of magic.

爱不释手; never let me go by yiqie | rated E | 69K words | and then read this one to feel harrowed again, this time in canon-verse!

Wei Wuxian has certainly hoped so ardently in his two lifetimes, for so many different things, in so many different ways, that he could have summoned the demon to his front door with his bare hands. His eyes wander to Lan Zhan, settle on the back of his head, the blue-black curtain of his hair. Oh, how he has hoped.

在此恭迎夷陵老祖; to yiling laozu, the great and venerable by yiqie | rated M | 7K words | read this one to recover from the above fic (this time in canon-verse)

“You don’t know? In Yiling, there’s a tree at the edge of town, one that stands at the fringes of where the city ends and the Burial Mounds begin, called the Lover’s Tree. They say if you write a letter and nail it to its branches, Yiling Laozu will receive it, and he’ll reply.”

你的阳光下; wanna hide in your light by yiqie | rated T | 2K words | :')

Lan Zhan shuts off the water before it can start getting cold, because Wei Ying still needs to take one. Any other day, Wei Ying would have slunk in, pretending to be annoyed that Lan Zhan started without him, and neither of them would have want for hot water, but Wei Ying is still asleep.

From my heart's ground. by orange_crushed | rated E | 38K words | get (orange) CRUSHED!!!!!!!

After a while he can feel a palm against his face, gentle fingers soft and soothing. It’s not real, not exactly: he can tell the difference between a ghost’s touch and a living person’s, between a spirit-vision and an overactive imagination. His education has been thorough. But the beating has also been thorough, so for now he forgets what he knows and leans into it, into the hand cupping his cheek. It’s soft and dry as those forgotten petals, as the touch of a pillow. He can smell wildflowers, can taste blood and dirt. My baby, his mother says, and he closes his eyes. My treasure. He barely remembers the sound of her voice, but the feeling of it is just the same. Just the same as ever.

[In which Lan Wangji loses almost everything, plants a garden, and grows a second chance.]

Pentimento. by orange_crushed | rated E | 73K words | this fic briefly gave me a serious case of career envy :/ ......but seriously, this is an absolute must-read!!!

When Wangji was eighteen he’d walked into the first class of his fall semester painting module and there’d been a boy in a hilariously ugly floppy knit hat sitting cross-legged on the floor at the front of the room. He’d had a sheet of canvas paper taped to his board and his board clamped between his legs and a tackle box of brushes and tubes—a real fishing tackle box, with a fish-shaped logo on it that said BASS, not one of the nice art supply storage boxes they sold in the campus bookstore, like the one Wangji was carrying—open beside him. Everyone else had settled into the rows of stools and easels, but that boy had stayed on the floor for the whole two hour and thirty minute studio. Wangji had looked at him and thought, that idiot’s back is going to hurt.

[Former best friends Lan Wangji, paintings conservator, and Wei Wuxian, art handler, meet again and realize... neither of them were actually in unrequited love.]

Many happy returns. by orange_crushed | rated E | 25K words

His fingers are still clasped between Wangji's. In the mirror Wangji watches him tuck his coat between his thighs so that he can fuss with the tucked-in hem of his shirt, tousle up the side of his hair, all one-handed. "I hope what I'm wearing is okay."

"It's good," Wangji says. "You look good."

"I guess I must," Wei Ying says, and then he smiles and bites his teeth into his bottom lip for a second, devastatingly, and before Wangji can drop dead the doors to the elevator slide open, and the hostess station appears.

[In which lonely businessman Lan Wangji meets the right wrong person and changes the course of his life.]

The dreamers. by orange_crushed | rated E | 17K words

“Stop mothering me,” Wei Ying protests. “Why don’t you ever listen?” He scowls at Wangji, but then the lure of the clean water is too much; he sits grumbling and strips off his vambraces and loosens the collar of his robes and wipes himself down in the steam. Wangji sits on a stool and watches him, and after a while Wei Ying slaps the rag into the bowl and glares back. “Are you going to sit and stare the whole time?” he demands. “You want to see me strip naked and give my filthy evil self a good scrubbing, huh?”

Yes, Wangji thinks.

[This is a story about a horrible war and a beautiful dream; about grabbing happiness where you can find it, and not letting go.]

mercy, tear it down. by orange_crushed | rated E | 31K words

“You want me to call you good?” Wangji says. “To make you feel good?” Wei Ying makes a wretched, soft, surprised sound in the back of his throat. “Then will you be good?”

“Uh,” Wei Ying says. His lashes flick down again, nervously. “Good how?”

Wangji hasn’t quite thought that far ahead.

Kingfisher Feathers by Anonymous | rated E | 83K words | WIP (7/10 chapters, last updated 4/13/21) | omg omegaverse!!!! @/ this anon author... keep up the great work! also i have feelings for u

With an almost trance-like detachment, Wei Wuxian touched his own neck, his fingers skimming over the fresh mark. The bite wound had stopped bleeding, although he had no doubts it would open again if agitated.

Bonded.

He was bonded for life.

"Shit," he whispered. He looked over at the sleeping form of Lan Wangji—the Second Prince of Gusu and, until his brother was found, the sole heir to the throne. "Oh, shit. Lan Qiren is going to kill me."

----------

Lan Wangji goes into a fevered rut and accidentally bonds with Wei Wuxian. When they next meet, he remembers none of it, and Wei Wuxian is determined to keep the bond a secret—even when he's sent to the Cloud Recesses to be a consort in Lan Wangji's harem.

(tl;dr concubine!wwx is already married to emperor!lwj, who has no idea. drama ensues.)

Pull out game weak by 74243 | rated E | 23K words | featuring the hottest meanest dom top lesbian lwj of your wildest dreams. i hope ao3 user 74243 is having an amazing day

Wei Ying swipes right.

Extra Time by Anonymous | rated E | 28K words | fic inspired by the above fic! seriously good

How Wei Ying learned to stop worrying and love the strap (an AU of 74243's Pull out game weak)

Superfan by 74243 | rated E | 19K words | ao3 user 74243 writing banger after banger as per usual

“I’m not going to apologize for my job,” Wei Ying said, “so if you want to give me some kind of lecture--”

“No,” Lan Zhan said. “You misunderstood. I am...” she paused, as if considering the best way to put it. “I’m a fan.”

Spit in my mouth, look in my eyes by 74243 | rated E | 7K works | i'm just going to list all of ao3 user 74243's fics, ok? that's what's gonna happen here

Wei Wuxian was a little surprised herself, although she felt bad for being surprised. Of course it didn’t really mean anything about you, how you presented, Wei Wuxian knew that better than anyone, but all the same it was hard to reconcile Lan Zhan as an omega.

(wwx makes an error of judgment)

If the shoe fits by 74243 | rated E | 8K words

Wei Ying loses a bet.

the And they were roommates series by 74243 | rated E | 19K words total

That was the other thing, when Wei Ying had moved in. She’d scented Lan Zhan immediately, the sandalwood and smoke rising off her, almost before she’d taken in Lan Zhan’s straight posture, her narrowed eyes. She’d known that Lan Zhan could tell, too. At the end, when they’d talked about the rent and Lan Zhan’s nearly finished PhD and Wei Ying’s working hours, Wei Ying had said, casual and effortless, “And you don’t mind that I’m an omega.”

“No,” Lan Zhan said.

Chef's kiss by 74243 | rated E | 7K words

Wei Ying said, “You know, in some ways I’m kind of depressed. I took your biggest dick on my first try. Now I don’t have anything to build up to.”

“There are bigger ones available,” Lan Zhan said lazily. “I can pay for express shipping.”

(Lan Zhan works the late shift.)

Gold-palmed Warrior Quest! by 74243 | rated E | 13K words

When Lan Wangji suggested that they camp along the way to the Unclean Realm, rather than staying at inns, Wei Wuxian had been sceptical.

Dway! by 74243 | rated E | 6K words

“Hm,” Wei Ying said. “You like it rough, though, right? You seem like that kind of alpha.” When she saw Lan Zhan’s expression she raised an eyebrow. “What? Was I wrong? Are you tender and sweet? Do you cry?”

“You were not wrong,” Lan Zhan said. “I do not cry. Do you?”

tgif by 74243 | rated E | 17K words

Today Lan Zhan says that if Wei Ying cannot control her mouth then she will have to tape it shut.

On the ground by 74243 | rated E | 5K words

“I think you will like it,” Lan Zhan said.

Does your mother know by 74243 | rated E | 5K words | editing this rec list on a monday morning to add this brand new fic fresh off the presses. thank u ao3 user 74243 for feeding us so well 🙏

“Lan Zhan is such a well-behaved girl,” Madam Yu said.

all that and more by Euphorion | rated E | 20K words

Wei Wuxian locks his phone and puts it down, blinks at his ceiling, and picks it up again. The pictures are still there.

His first thought is that Lan Zhan meant them for someone else. That he just woke up at—he checks the timestamp—6:30 am on a Sunday and decided to go absolute full nuclear seduction option on some poor boy he met on Grindr, who would now be missing out on the best thing to ever happen to him because Wei Wuxian had a bad habit of distracting—of—oh.

Pieces of last night start to resurface and paste themselves together in his head. He winces.

The Golden Cutsleeve by syrus_jones | rated E | 77K words | of my faves, this is one of my favorite... faves. top faves. incredibly fun and silly and hot. just... oh my GOD, wei YING!

“I know! Why don’t you try it? Let me go and I’ll lend it to you!” Wei Wuxian bribed hysterically, desperate to escape from this encounter by any means necessary. And then, his eyes blew wide, realizing what he just said. ‘Wait— just what am I offering Lan Zhan?!’ he thought. How was he so stupid, how did he just offer that without thinking—

“You want me...to use it… after you?” Lan Zhan asked, his voice unusually faint.

~*~

Wei Wuxian's test of mysterious, literally magical sex toy goes awry when Lan Wangji finds him in the woods 'experimenting' with it and it ends up in Lan Wangji's possession.

Unfortunately, neither of them is aware that the toy is anchored to Wei Wuxian's body. Too bad Wei Wuxian invited him to try it.

Boy Trouble, We've Got Double by saltyfeathers | rated E | 60K words | !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! this is a really good fic

Lan Zhan stands there in his immaculate, cloud-patterned Lan robes, watching him calmly, one fist tucked up against his back. “I am betrothed.”

Wei Wuxian blinks. “Are you…” He tries to laugh. Again, it sounds inhuman. “Is this about last night? Are you mad at me? I only remember some of it, Lan Zhan. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable. I’m sure whatever I did I was just—” He gestures uselessly. He remembers being warm in Lan Zhan’s lap. He remembers fitting snugly in Lan Zhan’s lap. Wrapping his arms around Lan Zhan’s neck. Nosing at his jaw. “…playing around.”

“This has nothing to do with you, Wei Wuxian.”

none in the forest so bright as these by saltyfeathers | rated E | 6K words

Wei Wuxian puts a hand to his head, brain lost in fog. “Lan Zhan,” he pants. “Why are we here? Are we on a hunt?”

As Lan Zhan tries to remember, his brow furrows. He shakes his head slightly. “I don’t know.”

“This is bad,” Wei Wuxian says. When Lan Zhan cups his cheek again, sparks burst behind Wei Wuxian’s eyes. “Or maybe it’s not,” he says unthinkingly. Sighs, almost. Lan Zhan looks at his own arm like it's betrayed him. Wei Wuxian closes his eyes and presses his face into Lan Zhan’s palm. “Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan,” he murmurs. “What’s happening to us?”

out in the garden, there’s things you hid away by saltyfeathers | rated E | 121K words | oww oww oww 😣😣😣💘

There is a man with empty eye sockets and tears of fire in Wei Wuxian’s dreams. Tendrils of smoke curl around him in sleep, pressing at his most vulnerable spots, seeking entrance, slipping between his ribs.

When he ignores Lan Zhan's offers of help, he declines rapidly. He will die. Or, he should. Anyone else would.

Instead, he flees. And transforms.

crawling through your door by saltyfeathers | rated E | 12K words

Lan Wangji kisses him. When he pulls away, he speaks into the silence between them, because when he is with Wei Ying, he so rarely considers. “Why don’t you touch me anymore?”

Lan Zhan Works for the Historical Society by saltyfeathers | rated E | 7K words | some real real good lesbian action up in here

Pretty Lan Zhan. Beautiful Lan Zhan. Ice queen Lan Zhan. So intimidating and femme and coldly polite in public, yet meaner than a man in the bedroom. Wei Ying has slept with men before and none of them were mean-nice to her like Lan Zhan.

threadfic by saltyfeathers | not rated (each chapter rated/tagged individually) | 34K+ words | WIP (11/? chapters, last updated 3/15/21), but it’s a collection of stand-alone oneshots

semi cleaned-up wangxian twitter threadfic.

【已經打動我的心】So Sing To Me All Night by aroceu | rated T | 10K words | arrow writes wei ying so exquisitely well. i was weepy the whole time read this fic. for the best experience, i recommend following along with the accompanying spotify playlist.

No one listens to the radio in this day and age, but somehow from a bunch of left clicking and right clicking, through Facebook and Twitter and Youtube, Wei Ying finds himself on the WQHS homepage—the UPenn student radio station, promising eclectic tastes from a variety of hosts. Wei Ying can't remember giving a shit about his old college's student radio before he dropped out, but it's eleven at night and he has nothing else better to do. He clicks on the button that says Listen Here! and waits to be impressed.

get wild by aroceu | rated E | 24K words | 🔥🏀🔥 BASKETBALL FIC 🔥🏀🔥

He was looking for a specific reaction—to get Lan Zhan to lash out. All hard edges and demanding, the same way during the first scrim, Lan Zhan's dark voice had made him loose and obedient, itching to both rebel and obey at the same time.

It's them, whatever it is, but it doesn't belong on the basketball court.

~

Wei Ying didn't expect to enter a weird... something-with-benefits-plus-power-play with the captain of the Gusu basketball team. He's not sure if it's worth it.

without a warning by aroceu | rated T | 10K words | 🥺️🥺️🥺️

“Blegh,” Wei Ying says. “I hate being sick, Lan Zhan… my throat is so sore… why do I talk so much?”

“Stop talking then,” Lan Zhan says.

“You don’t mean that,” Wei Ying says, in his half-asleep daze. “I know you’ll never admit it, Lan Zhan, but you like it when I talk.”

your honor i’m a freak bitch by aroceu | rated E | 6K words

Wei Ying gestures to his outfit. His hands are buried deep within the hoodie; he’s mostly gesturing with the sleeves. “Well, it works with the whole get up, you see?”

“The…” Lan Zhan looks down at where his fingers are toying with the top of Wei Ying’s thigh highs. Wei Ying pretends he is not shivering. “…skirt. And these stockings.”

“Thigh highs, Lan Zhan!” Wei Ying says, batting at him with the end of a sleeve.

Play It By Ear by aroceu | rated T | 7K words | MY HEART !!!

In the virtual airplane flying over the island, appropriately called Yiling, Lan Zhan watches as bits and pieces of the island load in. There are many Statues of David, a gothic teacup ride, and, from what Lan Zhan can see, an entire field of spoiled turnips.

hanguang-jun @/hanguangjun Do you need turnips to sell?

timmy and tommy in a trenchcoat @/yilinglaozu oh! no haha! 😅 those are from a while ago but my brother insists i keep them there

for the ~aesthetic~

the key that our souls were singing by aroceu | rated M | 5K words

“I haven’t seen you since—Gusu, was it?” Wei Ying says. “Oh my god, it’s been so long. I didn’t even know you were LGBT! Unless you’re here as an ally, which is also totally cool—”

“No, I.” Lan Zhan coughs. Her throat feels dry. “I am a lesbian.”

abort retry fail by aroceu | rated E | 21K words

Lan Wangji must miss his husband over this amnesiac of a man Wei Wuxian has turned into. Well, Wei Wuxian will show him! He'll be even better—or at least, try to be just as good of a husband as he would be, without his memory loss.

Blackout If You Were Mine by aroceu | rated E | 9K words

Wei Ying likes to wear chokers a lot. So Lan Zhan buys some for him. Then, testing their limits, collars.

Wei Ying wears those, too.

-

Or, the one where Wei Ying and Lan Zhan accidentally stumble into a BDSM relationship.

eleven thousand meters & airborne by aroceu | rated E | 5K words | 😎✈️😎

Lan Zhan and Wei Ying join the mile high club.

many fox given by defractum | rated E | 24K words | can't go wrong with foxxian and dragonji content 🦊🐉

Lan Zhan is glaring at him. That's probably fair.

The last time they'd seen each other, Wei Ying had been digging through Lan Zhan's garbage. They'd made eye contact over the shredded bags, the week's trash scattered around him like stinky, oversized Lego.

Lan Zhan's eyes had been wide with horror, and Wei Ying's had been equally wide with feigned innocence. He'd reached out slowly, maintaining the eye contact, and then flipped over the food waste bin full of onion peel and carrot skin as a distraction and slunk off into the night. Probably not his finest moment.

-

Modern AU dragon!LWJ meets fox!WWX.

the tamed by defractum | rated E | 12K words

If the Second Jade of Lan insists on bringing the Yiling Patriarch as his guest to the next Cultivation Conference, he must first demonstrate a control over the Yiling Patriarch and his unnatural abilities.

The letter lies on their desk for days.

-

Post-canon, Wei Ying is invited, sort of, to a Discussion Conference.

us in a king-size, keep it a secret (say i'm your queen, i don't wanna leave this) by matcha_ado | rated E | 3K words

People always said Wei Ying was a royal pain in the ass. They were absolutely right, of course, just not in the way they thought.

it is wednesday my dudes by jelenedra | rated M | 4K words

Wednesday nights at Cloud Recesses strip club are always a little weird, but usually they're not this horny. Whatever Wei Ying and Lan Zhan get up to, Mianmian is not going to be the one to clean it up.

i'm the one for your fire by occultings | rated E | 43K words | cherry magic au! love it

Wei Ying, virgin and noted heterosexual, gets hit with a curse of an unusual nature on his 30th birthday — through physical contact, he can read the minds of others around him.

Enter Lan Zhan, hot former rival and current coworker, whose true thoughts about Wei Ying are nothing like he expects. (A loose Cherry Magic AU)

a thousand teeth, yours among them by darkredloveknot | rated E | 11K words

A one night stand in the time of zombies.

hoe to housewife pipeline by lanzhancore | rated E | 5K words

“You type fast,” Wei Ying murmurs, making a futile attempt at conversation while he waits for him to be done with… whatever. “Not to be pushy, but do you plan on fucking my ass anytime soon?”

or: wei ying has been thirsting after lan zhan for three slutty slutty years

can you feel it by lanzhancore | rated E | an instant classic

“What’s wrong?” Wei Ying asks finally, eyebrows drawn together. “Is everything okay?”

Thumbs stroking circles into his skin as if to comfort him, Lan Zhan says, “Don’t panic.”

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying says, sitting up on his elbows. “What did you do to my ass?”

“Nothing,” Lan Zhan says, convincing nobody. “But we need to go to the hospital.”

or: wei ying really should have sprung for the model with the flared base. he learns this lesson the hard way.

because you're mine (i walk the line) by lanzhancore | rated E | 8K words

Wei Ying is freshly cream-pied and still trying to remember where his legs are when Lan Zhan outlaws masturbation.

or: wei ying fucks around and finds out

payload by lanzhancore | rated M | 3K words | babysitter wwx + dilfji, what more could you need

Wei Ying has a whole five hours and thirty-six minutes to calm down but when he hears Lan Zhan’s key turning in the front door lock later that evening he has to cling to the couch cushions to keep from marching into the laundry room to retrieve the briefs so he can wave them in Lan Zhan’s face and demand to know who owns them.

or: lan zhan's self-restraint is not limitless

the to the brim series by verseau | rated E | 14K words total

Wei Ying wants to rob him, but it wouldn’t even be satisfying, since this guy is just—giving away money. With his nice fingers. Maybe Wei Ying will just bite his fingers, and that will give the same endorphin rush as robbing him. / a day told across five parts.

get that message home by verseau | rated G | 2K words | ohhhhhhhhh myyyyy godddddd 😭

Sizhui's father cannot haggle. It is a shame on Sizhui’s honor to have such an honest father.

Author's note [i'm including it here because it's golden]:

there is a scene in arrested development where lucille, who is on the opposite spectrum of humanity as lan zhan, asks, "it's a banana, michael. how much could one cost? ten dollars?" there are no bananas in this story.

dreaming and getting a glimmer by verseau | rated E | 27K words | a particular favorite of mine 🔥🍆💦🕳🔥

Wei Ying discovers himself.

trust your fingertips by plonk | not rated (but really rated E) | 15K word | 🥵️🥵️🥵️🥵️🥵️ plonk you’ve done it again!

Lan Wangji must suppress a shiver at every brush and press of Wei Wuxian’s fingers.

Under different circumstances - less public ones - he would welcome touch, given that his body is in such an aroused state.

Alas, his circumstances are these: sitting quietly while Wei Wuxian, the famous (infamous) Doctor of Yunmeng, digs his fingertips into Lan Wangji’s shoulders and chest and sides and hums thoughtfully.

Doctor, Doctor by YunmengLotus | rated E | 4K words | mmmmhmm!

Wei Ying needs to get a prostate exam. How ever will he deal when the world's hottest doctor walks through the exam room door and tells him to bend over?

TAKOYAKI by ariskamalt | rated E | 3K words | lan zhan gets jealous of his own damn appendages. meanwhile, wei ying is just having a good time.

Lan Zhan…cannot always feel or tell what his tentacles will do.

His free hand curls into a fist. Underneath his skin, the tentacles give a little squirm, as if aware of the challenge he has just issued them. No touching Wei Ying unless he says so, because he wants to touch Wei Ying first. They squirm again, as if to say, Tentacles: 1, Lan Zhan: 0.

That will just have to be remedied.

Or, as phnelt first described: Tentacle-ji with the semi autonomous tentacles getting jealous of his tenties for touching Wei Ying in places he hasn't yet

Outage by SugarMilkTea | rated E | 3K words | [cough] 😳😳😳

The power goes out in Lan Zhan and Wei Ying's rural home in the countryside. Lan Zhan takes advantage of the darkness to give in to one of his baser urges, and Wei Ying's first rural power outage experience is about to get a lot more interesting.

big hands (i know you’re the one) by martyrsdaughter | rated E | 8K words | NICE. 🔥🔥🔥

“Not a big talker, hm?” Wei Ying tilts his head to one side. “That’s okay, I’ve been told I’m a good enough conversationalist for three. My tongue is multi-talented and—”

He has just enough time to feel her palm on the back of his neck and think, oh, her hands are so big, before his words are being stolen into her mouth.

darling, am i a chore? by martyrsdaughter | rated E | 7K words

“Are you done playing around?”

Knowing that’s not what either of them actually wants, Wei Wuxian reaches up to tickle under Lan Wangji’s chin. Soft little scritches, coaxing motions—Lan Wangji is weak to all of them.

“You know what I want,” Wei Wuxian purrs, reaching up on his tiptoes to throw his arms over Lan Wangji’s shoulders. “Call me gege, won’t you? Call me and I’ll stop.”

(or: five times Lan Wangji paid special attention to Wei Wuxian’s interest in being his gege.)

put him on his knees, give him something to believe in by dustyloves | rated E | 2K words | if the title is quoting WAP, then you should know by now it’s gonna be some of that good filth

The next time Wei Ying kisses him, Lan Zhan is careful again. Wei Ying seems determined to make it very difficult.

the hard way by dustyloves | rated E | 9K words

"Anyway, you make it sound like something lewd is going on," Wei Ying complains. "It's all totally above board. She's just being a nice person. It's just one kind alpha grad student offering one room of her huge house to one beta undergrad in need, what could be more appropriate than that?"

// Wei Ying makes a mistake and finds out the hard way.

Exhibition by sevenless | rated E | 5K words

“Oh?” Wei Wuxian raises an eyebrow. “The forbidden section, Lan Zhan?”

“Mn.”

“You’re not afraid of being heard?” Wei Wuxian thinks aloud. A smirk creeps onto his face, eyes glinting. “Or could it be that Lan-er-gongzi actually wants to be heard? Seen? Caught?” He skips in front of him, blocking his way. "Disciplined?”

Lan Wangji’s ears, as always, betray him.

a history of the body by northofallmusic | rated E | 14K words

Wei Ying's body hurts sometimes; she lets Lan Zhan help her.

A fic about the complicated nature of having a body, and also the versatility of sex toys.

(our friendship) up against the ropes by daltoneering | rated E | 36K words

The reboot completes, and Wei Ying’s brain smashes this information together into two mind-shattering thoughts. Number one, he knew very well already, and is now further seared by defined muscles and a mouth-watering tattoo into his every waking moment: Lan Zhan is the hottest fucking person on the planet.

Number two: that guy wasn’t visiting Lan Zhan’s neighbour, he was visiting Lan Zhan, which means:

Lan Zhan fucks. Lan Zhan fucks. Lan Zhan fucks.

;

Lan Zhan has been Wei Ying's best friend for years. Literally, years. How did he not already know? How has he missed this most important of facts? And more importantly, how is he ever going to get over it?

watching my heart go round by typefortydeductions | rated E | 38K+ words | WIP (2/4 chapters, last updated 5/2/21) | lan zhan i love you baby 💞

Lan Zhan falls apart. As it turns out, that's not the end.

~

oh man this list is so long sd;jfkdsjfhhh

yati, i hope you find some stuff in this pile here that you’ll enjoy! it's not an exhaustive list, so check out the authors’ other works and bookmarks for more goods, if you feel so inclined 😙💕

#darlingbenny #mdzs #fic rec #nsfw!

[notnctu]

Hiii can you guys please write a drabble on Taeyong + 53 and 67?? it would be great if you guys could write it as a Taeyong badboy smut! btw, Congrats on reaching the milestone ❤️

im so happy that we’re able to celebrate together <3 thank you for reading and dropping us a request bb :) i hope you enjoy!! you can read it under the cut

-author doie ❀

badboy!taeyong + fem!reader prompt #53 & #67 - “You’re an addiction.” & “What are you doing here? It’s late.” genre - smut (fingering, slight corruption kink?)

here taeyong stands foolishly in front of your door with a fresh red gash across his upper cheekbone and a purple painful bruise on the corner of his lips. he rings your doorbell and the chime startles you.

it’s past midnight and if it weren’t for your studies, you would be snuggled in bed by now. looking through the peephole, taeyong paces back and forth with an alarming cut on his face.

without another second of hesitation, you open the door and he halts at your cozy appearance, his forgotten shirt he left a while back and the lack of bottoms. “what are you doing here? it’s late.” crossing your arms, you shift your weight on your left leg.

“y’know, i took a gamble to see if you’d still be awake. i know it’s well past my baby’s bedtime.” he enters without needing an invitation and before you can sigh again at his random nicknames, you’re reminded of the jarring cut on his porcelain skin.

“yet you showed up anyways, like it’s an emergency room.” you motion for him to grab the first aid kit that sits alone against the wall. it’s clearly not the first time he’s shown up rather rough.

he follows you into your room and spreads his arms to plant onto your bed. “don’t you know? you’re an addiction. i’ll never be able to get enough of you.” his boyish smile is a charm nonetheless, as you pat for him to sit up so you can tend to his injury.

you’re no nurse, but he runs to your care as if you are one. fight after fight, he seeks comfort in you as if you could heal any physical and emotional pain he always felt. you dab the alcoholic pad on the cut, and taeyong winces at the consequential stinging sensation.

“fuck, that really hurts.” he grumbles and takes a hold of your free hand.

“maybe stop getting into unnecessary brawls with people who have skin breaking fists.” he laughs at your serious, bold sarcasm. he likes you so much, but he would never be able to fully have you.

“you’re the one who fell for someone like me.” taeyong plays along with your light banter and you shoot him a dagger stare. and he melts under your strong gaze.

“i’m pretty sure you fell for me first. so maybe you should’ve fell for a bad bitch instead of a normal me.” you tape the bandage over the clean gash and he catches your wrist as it falls.

“first all, my baby.... you are a bad bitch.” you roll your eyes, not out of annoyance but complete bashfulness. this man knows no shame when it comes to complimenting you. “and that’s not how addiction works. i’m too hooked on you to want anyone else.” he lifts your chin to hold the smoldering eye contact.

“you know what i meant..” you mumble, but taeyong cuts you off with a hot kiss before you can continue. kissing him is always a thrilling experience, like danger at the tip of your tongue. the rings that line his fingers feel cold when they press against the base of your neck.

taeyong carefully places the kit on the ground as he turns your back to rest on the mattress. he runs a warm hand up your bare thighs, eyes drinking up your vulnerability. taeyong rolls off your cotton panties and uses his thumb to rub your clit.

your back arches from the bed out of shock. a low grunt escapes from the back of taeyong’s throat as he tosses his rings on your bedside table. then, he slowly inserts two fingers into your wetness. “had to make sure you’re ready for me.” his smile is dark, and you feel his fingertips rubbing at your plush flesh.

“give me what you came here for.” your words are confident, despite your withering body at his fingers. a few more ensuring pumps, his fingers glisten from your juices. he tastes you, licking them clean and groaning at your deliciousness.

“as you wish, princess.” his clothing end up somewhere with the first aid kit on the floor and he rolls the rubber on for safety measures. normally, he’d ease himself in with his tip and give you a slow agonizing stretch.

tonight, he rams into you so abruptly that there’s no time to adjust to his length. you scream as he pushes your legs into your chest to fuck you deeper. “you’re still so tight, even after all the nights we’ve fucked.”

he drags himself out, then pushes back in until your head hits the headboard. “are you trying to break me?” you whine at the intensity of his powerful thrusts.

“i’m trying to ruin you, my perfection.” a flash of lust catches your eye, as he presses your hips into the blankets. your hands hold his wrists to stabilizes yourself from the impact, you aren’t sure how many times your head can withstand the banging.

but he holds you with vein popping arms, one paper cut and he’s a goner. taeyong fucks you harder, upon your request, to build your worlds so high to only have it come crumbling down. he feels a small squeeze from you, and angles himself to pound you into a temporary blissful escape.

you breathe his name once before coming undone, gripping onto his dick sporadically and the leg shaking sensation runs throughout your lower half. and taeyong drinks up your euphoric reaction and soon, follows with his own ruinous crashing high.

you both catch your breath, and he leans down to pamper small pecks on your lips. he whispers softly, “like i said before, it’s way past your bedtime sweetheart.” his forehead rests against your own.

“stay tonight?” there is a small beg in your voice. and how could he ever say no to you?

#nct smut #nct scenarios #taeyong scenarios #taeyong smut #nct reactions #nct requests #nct asks #theres still alot more request coming!! #pls b patient with us !! we will get to everyone soon

[t0wnspersonb]

See You Again (Tendou Satori x Reader)

Word Count: 2,354

Warnings: mentions of drugs, alcohol, yakuza, suggestive language, bad language, my shit writing

Summary: As the daughter of a yakuza boss there are certain things you must uphold to, but when a night out at the club comes around, you find yourself being saved by the son of a rival clan. After a quick chat, you find yourself completely enraptured by him, and you can’t help but want to see him again. 

~~~~

Anonymous said:

Tendou meets someone whos kinda slightly insane and is a Yakuza boss, y'know shady type stuff. Can you write something where they kind of obsess over eachother and it's like a match made in hell? Thank you so much for your time. ❤️❤️😈

~~~~

This is part 1!!! I’ve decided to make this story two parts, so stay tuned for part 2! I really enjoyed this idea of a yakuza!Tendou. I definitely tweaked it quit a bit, I hope you don’t mind too much anon! 

I’m still writing out some requests so please be patient with me! I know I haven’t posted anything new recently and I’m so sorry for that! Life has been so busy for me. 

I hope you guys enjoy this one and please let me know what you think! 😊😊😊 I hope you guys have a wonderful week!

~~~~

The atmosphere thumped around you violently. Filled to the brim with alcohol and smoke; violently shaking you with strong vibrations as you swayed back and forth to the music. 

 Sweat and cheap perfume filled the space within your nose, but that was a given. You could feel a trickle of sweat sliding down the back of your neck, matting strands of hair to your overheated skin. 

 Bodies were pressed close together, grabbing and grinding against anything that moved. 

 You could feel a hand sliding against your waist, tugging you closer to the body pressed tight behind you. The person’s lower half pressed against the curve of your ass.

 Your eyes flashed open. Your hand that was held in the air lowered, your drink sloshing out of the cup and dripping down your fingers. You could feel your face twisting in disgust as you easily jabbed your elbow into their ribs, separating the two of you.

 You glanced back at the male that was wincing in pain, glaring at you accusingly. You rolled your eyes before shoving your body through the crowd of people, making your way off the dancefloor.

 The group you had come with were still situated in a booth at the corner of the club. The seats were sticky against the bare skin of your thighs, either from spilled drinks or another substance that you would rather not think of.

 Typical club atmosphere. 

 “Wanna do a line?” one of the males asked, looking at you with glazed eyes. 

 This was another thing that was typical in this atmosphere; it was entirely predictable, and while it came with the territory, it was entirely boring.

 “No.” you said curtly, preventing your face from morphing into a look of complete disgust. 

 “Don’t you know? Daddy will get mad if he found out his little princess was doing drugs.” another voice chimed in.

 You rolled your eyes. “You forget that he would throw your ass dead in a ditch somewhere. Know your place.” You sneered.

 For a moment, the air around the booth was thick with tension, your piercing gaze could put Medusa to shame as you stared down the two males that had decided to speak to you. 

 “Calm down killer,” a large hand rested against the top of your head, ruffling your hair. You huffed, swatting the hand away in annoyance. “Honestly though guys, show a bit more respect towards our next clan head. If Boss doesn’t throw your ass dead in a ditch, you know that she will.”

 “Forgive us Little Lady.” they bowed their heads towards you. 

 You snorted, waving them off as your eyes glanced around the room.

 The tension lifted easily, everyone getting back to their side conversations that they were doing beforehand.

 Leave it to one of your father’s direct underlings to stick up for you. 

 But it was entirely appreciated, although you would never say those words aloud. To survive in this world, you had to command respect from those around you, it was one of the many lessons you were taught growing up.

 Being the head’s daughter came with its own set of rules, and the fact that you were going to inherit it all, well, you had to be cautious about certain things.

 Which is why one of your father’s direct underlings went with you and other clan members to the club tonight. For the most part, the clan was completely fine with you taking over after your father retired, there were others that were a bit skeptical, you would be the first female head. The slight doubts and the teasing forced your hand to be, well, a bitch. 

 You were fine with that though. 

 “What the fuck are they doing here?” 

 You frowned at the statement, your eyes flickering across the room to see why everyone at the table was now on edge. 

 Nothing seemed out of place…

 Oh. 

 Your eyes zeroed in at the entrance, the sea of bodies parting to make room for the group that was walking towards an empty booth.

 “This is neutral territory. They have every right to be here as we do. Don’t start any unnecessary shit.” Your father’s direct said firmly. 

 “I don’t give a fuck, they know we go to this club all the time, why the fuck… Little Lady is here too!”

 “It’s fine.” you said curtly, looking at your group. “It’s neutral territory, we all know the rules. They aren’t going to start a fight unless we provoke them. So, mind your business. Is that clear?”

 Despite the angry and suspicious looks from your group they all agreed in understanding. But despite your words, you were definitely concerned, you didn’t want any problems to come up. 

 It would be fine right?

 “I’m going to get another drink.” You muttered, sliding out of the sticky booth, your fingers adjusting your dress accordingly. 

 “I’ll go with yo-” 

 You held your hand up. “No need, I’ll be fine.” 

 You were already walking off towards the bar, ignoring the pointed and concerned looks from the table. 

 Tonight definitely wasn’t what you had planned. You figured that you would get drunk and dance, maybe find someone to hook up with, definitely wasn’t planning on having a rival clan show up.

 Fuck, you just wanted to go home now. 

 Your fingers tapped against the bar counter as you waited for your drink to be made, body swaying with the beat of the music.

 “You all alone sweetheart?” you could feel a hand wrap around your waist.

 You could feel your nostrils flaring in anger, tonight definitely was not your night. You glanced over to see a tall man staring down at you with a wide smirk, clearly drunk.

 If it was any other night you might’ve considered flirting with him, he wasn’t bad on the eyes, definitely not your type though. 

 “I’m with my group of friends.” You said curtly, wiggling your way out of his grip. “I’m just getting a drink.”

 “But you’re all by yourself… Did your friends ditch you? Wanna come hang out with me and my friends?” He grabbed at your wrist, yanking you into his body easily.

 You ignored the panic that started to bubble up in your chest. Your eyes flickered over to your booth only to find out that you were completely blocked from the booth’s view, meaning that your group couldn’t see you at all.

 “No thanks.” you snapped, attempting to yank yourself free from the male. His grip on your wrist tightened dramatically, causing you to wince in pain.

 “Come on sugar, don’t be like that. Let’s go have some fun yeah?” he peered down at you; face incredibly close to your own.

 Fuck. 

 This was so fucked. 

 He was way too big for you to handle yourself. 

 How were you going to - “I don’t think she wants to go anywhere with you buddy.” long fingers wrapped in white tape were suddenly placed on the male’s shoulder, easily pushing him to the side, exposing your savior to your wide, panicked eyes.

 Red, calculating eyes peered down at you, flickering across your face before sliding over to the male that was still gripping your wrist tightly.

 “You know you’re hurting her right? I think you should let go.” His large hand tightened on your assailant’s shoulder, causing the male to wince and release his grip on you immediately.

 “Who the fuck are yo-” You could visibly see the male gulp in fear, fully taking in the tall redheaded male.

 Tendou Satori.

 Of all the people to come to your rescue, it had to be him, didn’t it?

 Just your fucking luck.

 Tendou tilted his head to the side slightly, his gaze never wavering from his face. His tall stature stooped down lower until he was eye level with the fear-stricken man.

 If you thought that disgusting man was too big, you were clearly wrong. Tendou overpowered him completely.

 “F-Forgive me, Tendou-sama! I-I didn’t know she was your woman!” The man wailed.

 Your eyebrows raised up at his statement, his woman? Like hell.

 “Oh I don’t even know who she is.” Tendou said, his index finger tapping against his chin as he pondered aloud. “But you were clearly making her uncomfortable. Men like you… piss me off. So,” he grabbed the man’s shoulder once more, his eyes turning into slits, a sardonic smile covering his lips. “You should leave.”

 The man yelped, apologizing profusely before running out of the club.

 You blinked after him in confusion before sighing loudly, your body drooping as your heart rate began to thump at a normal level now.

 You grabbed your drink that was on the bar counter, chugging it down.

 What a fucking night. What a fucking joke.

 “Are you okay?” Tendou asked suddenly, now by your side.

 You jumped at his voice, thinking that he had already left. Your eyes slide over to him, he was watching you closely, a curious look coating his face.

 “I’m fine.” you said, tone short. “You can leave now.”

 You could see his lips twitch into an amused smile at your dismissal, his body shifting just a tad bit closer to you.

 “You might be able to order your clan members around doll, but last I checked I’m not part of your clan.” he chuckled deeply.

 You ignored the deep twist in your gut at the sound. 

 “I thought you didn’t even know who I was.” you mocked, body turning to face him completely.

 You’d be lying if you said you didn’t find Tendou incredibly attractive; because he was. You knew exactly who you were dealing with. The next head in your rival clan. The same as you. 

 This might’ve been the longest conversation that you’ve ever held with him though. Of course you knew of him, there were many times where he and his father had come to your estate to negotiate with your father. You also knew of him based on the various stories you’ve heard from your own clan and others.

 He was just as dangerous as he was handsome.

 A terrible mix.

 “I lied.” he said easily, red eyes shining in amusement. “I know exactly who you are Little Lady.”

 “So then you know that I’m not alone right?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

 He shrugged, waving down the bartender and ordering a drink. He leaned against the bar counter easily, almost looking completely out of place in this shitshow of a club. Your eyes scanned down his figure, taking notice of his attire. 

 He definitely looked out of place here. The dark suit clung to his lean muscles, his tie loosened, and the first couple of buttons on his white dress shirt were undone, as if he had just finished a long day at the office.

 If his reputation wasn’t well known that’s probably what people would have thought until they got a closer look at him.

 His clan ring gleamed from the lights of the club, standing out amongst his other taped fingers. 

 “Like what you see?” he teased, looking over at you.

 You scoffed. “Don’t flatter yourself. Did you just come back from a meeting?” you asked, taking a sip of your new drink.

 “Wouldn’t you like to know.” he said, an eyebrow quirking up. 

 You huffed in annoyance; he had a point though. You wouldn’t want someone from an outside clan knowing your business.

 “So if you’re with your people, why didn’t they save you from that guy?” he asked curiously.

 “I could’ve handled it myself.” You said immediately. “I’m not some helpless little girl.”

 You knew how to handle yourself that much was true, but you knew that there was an obvious difference. Even though you could handle weapons, and had combat training, per orders from your father; you were still a girl. You could still be easily overpowered by males much larger than you. You weren’t stupid, you knew how to pick your battles.

 “Aren’t you though?” Tendou’s eyes slid down your figure, drinking you in completely, shamelessly.

 You could feel your thighs clenching together unconsciously. His gaze burned your body, made you incredibly hot, but also made you feel incredibly exposed.

 Maybe you didn’t know how to pick your battles.

 “I’m not.” You argued, mentally swearing at yourself. You did sound like a child, a stupid little girl in the eyes of your rival.

 “You would be with me.” he answered simply, eyes darkening dramatically. His body turned towards you now, his long fingers grabbing at a strand of your hair, rubbing the strands between taped fingertips. 

 His eyes bore into yours, as his fingers moved from your hair to run carefully against your neck and jaw, carefully cupping your chin between his thumb and forefinger.

 Your breath hitched, your body breaking out in a cold sweat as you stared back at him; prey caught between the hands of a predator.

 “What do you say? Want to test my theory little girl?” he murmured, eyes flickering down towards your lips as they parted.

 Your mind went blank.

 What the fuck was this?

 This sudden desire for the tall red headed male? 

 There was never a moment in your life where you felt weak, until now. You had never felt small in your entire life, even when you were a little girl. Your father had raised you to be strong, raised you to be the tallest person in a room full of males.

 So then why… Why was Tendou able to reduce you in such a way? 

 He made you want to cling to him, he made you desperate for him, and that was obvious in the way that heat pooled in your lower stomach, obvious in the way that your thighs clenched together tightly.

 His eyes flickered behind you, his grip on your chin releasing as he stepped back, grabbing his drink off the bar.

 “Maybe some other time. I’ll see you around little one.” he said, his face entirely amused as he walked off.

 What -

 “Little Lady! Are you okay!?” 

 Oh.

 This definitely wasn’t your night. 

 But now… you definitely hoped to see him around again. 

#haikyuu!! #haikyuu requests #haikyuu fanfics #tendou satori x reader #tendou satori x you #tendou satori #tendou satori one shot #tendou satori imagine #tendou x reader #tendou x you #tendou haikyuu #tendo satori #tendo satori x reader #reader insert #haikyuu reader insert

[lord-explosion-baku]

Hero Santa

Sero x fem!reader

Warnings: yellow sour fruit, swearing

A/N: wow it’s been a long time that I’ve posted a oneshot. Sorry about that. My job keeps me busy and the fic I’m writing takes priority. This isn’t a request either so I’m ;;; this is entirely self-indulgent. I’ve just discovered a newfound love for mr. tape boy and wanted to write something about him. There’s a lot of cringey things in here. Like, secondhand emebarssment type things. But I just wanted to write something funny and wholesome, straying away from the incessant dubcon that litters my blog. If this makes you embarrassed then I think I’ve done my job right? If this makes you smile, then double points for me, I guess! Also, fuck you, I'm still mourning the loss of blockbuster movies so it exists in this one shot. huzzah.

You barrel in through Sero’s threshold, clutching your sides as you bust out laughing, exhilarated from you and Sero’s grand escape from a dastardly encounter— you seeing your ex boyfriend in public. Sero flings himself after you, clamping his hands down on your shoulders practically shaking as he tries to catch his breath.

“D-do you think he saw us??” He snickers, twirling around you to throw his house keys down on his front door counter top.

“I’m sure he did! He said my name right before you grabbed me!”

Sero’s grin widens as he sifts through your bag to grab one of the many sweet treats he picked out for the both of you. “But are you really sure that he saw us?”

“Sero, you literally spider-manned us out of blockbuster. The entire store saw us! They’re going to have to get a long ass ladder to get that tape off the ceiling!” You grin at him and with your best, most formal tone, you mock, “that was quite indecent, young man!”

“Ehhh. I’m sure they have somebody at the blockbuster who was like a leg extension or flying quirk. They’ll be fine!

You snort. “I can’t believe you just referred to blockbuster as ‘the blockbuster’ like you’re some kinda old lady!”

“Now, why don’t you make a decision on what my identity is? Who am I: Spider-Man or Gammy NumNums?”

“Who am I to say? I don't know Spider-Man’s secret identity. How are we so sure that Gammy NumNums herself isn’t Spider-Man?

“Oh shit, I think you’re onto something there.” Sero plops down on his couch, setting his treats down on the table next to it. “I’m really living the greatest triple life, huh? The best of all worlds.”

“I’ll say.” You mosey into the room, vibrating with happiness and comfort you get whenever you’re in Sero’s house. You nod at the pile of blankets he has at his feet. The two of you are going to be having a blanket fort movie night, something you’ve been looking forward to all week long. “Shall we get started?”

“Nah nah nah, lemme take care of all of this! Can you get the popcorn ready?”

You nod and grab two different packets from your bag. “Butter or kettle? I couldn’t decide.”

“What do I look like, an animal? Butter! Buttery butter. I want my popcorn to slide off my fingertips!”

You mock a gag. “I think maybe you are an animal,” you say and throw a pillow at Sero’s face before hopping to the kitchen before he could retaliate.

You leave the room with a giant smile on your face. Back at the store, you let yourself freeze in front of your ex while a thousand thoughts ran through your head. It’s always been odd seeing him in public after the two of you broke up, but every time you have seen him, you’ve been able to hide yourself immediately. Thankfully Sero was there when you were discovered and you recovered from your mental paralysis as soon as he swung the two of you out and away from him.

Sero has really been a special kind of hero towards you since your breakup. He’s been nothing but supportive of you— there for you whether you needed a shoulder to cry on or someone to bring a smile to your face. Sero is your guy. Sometimes both! You recall an instance where you were done crying but had said something along the lines of “my heart might be broken,” and without hesitating, Sero clicked out a piece of his tape and placed it over your chest, telling you that he’d be there to fix it. That’s when you first realized that maybe your heart could change fall into a new direction. He has really become something very… special to you. You find your heart skipping a beat during certain instances. If his hand lingers on your waist for a second longer than you’re used to, your mind goes haywire. It’s funny— you know you have feelings for him, and you’re pretty positive he might reciprocate those feelings, but the two of you avoid saying anything about it like the plague. You’re completely comfortable with him, but sometimes when you’re alone, when you’re close, the air grows thick with tension and the two of you sit in silence until one of you inevitable break the silence by making some lame joke. But god, sometimes you just want to hold the boy down and smooch his face!!

You pause in the hallway to check yourself in the mirror, pursing your lips as you turn to inspect your teal blue pajama bottoms. You sigh, embarrassed to have been in public with your lounge wear: slippers and all. If you had been expecting to see anybody, you would’ve done your makeup, maybe put on a skirt and some cute boots, but he saw you looking like a slob with a shit ton of candy in your hands.

After you pop your corn, you return to Sero’s living room, amazed at how quickly he made the fort transformation. Blankets hang from the walls and ceiling, cascading down with nice curves centering on an arena of fluffy pillows with Sero sprawled out in the middle, languidly pushing chocolate covered cookie dough into his mouth while he bats at the controls to get the movie started. You pause at the doorway, shifting your weight from one leg to another nervously until he looks at you, lifting a brow when you bite your lip.

“I know,” he says with a grin, “I’m absolutely brilliant.”

“You’re just alright.” You take you seat next to the boy, and burrow your cold feet under his legs. He gives you a funny grin, but you shrug it off. “I’m cold!”

“I think I-“ Sero presses his lips together, a worried look crawling over his face “-I’m certain I spared a blanket or two for us to actually use.”

He takes a moment to look around and after he finds nothing, he gives you a wide eyed stare. “Oh no.”

“See, this is why you're just alright.”

Sero hops up. “No, no, no— I’m not just alright. I’m the king of this here fort.” Sero raises his hands to feel around for a blanket used for the roof that’s unnecessary for the structure. His shirt lifts, exposing his tight midriff to you, and you tell yourself to look away, but you just can’t bring yourself to. Your eyes linger on his naval before drifting down towards his gray sweatpants where you can definitely make out the outline of his dick. You could scream.

“Do forts usually have kings?”

“This one does.”

You get to you knees, fully aware of how it might look to him if he so much as glances down, and ask, “if you’re the king, what would that make me?”

“That’s easy,” Sero says, carefully peeling some tape off a loose blanket, “you’re the princess.”

“HA! So you’re my dad?!”

Sero snickers before his eyes meet yours, blanket falling into his hands. He hesitates for a moment while he looks down at you, his brows furrowing as the tips of his ears grow to be a redder hue.

“Absolutely not,” he whispers in a tone softer than you’re used to. The blanket fall to the floor, but Sero stays stock still, eyes glazing over as he takes in your suggestive position.

“Then how does this work?” You quip, growing all the more embarrassed that you’re practically begging for him to make a move while at the same time, doing absolutely nothing.

“Don’t you remember?” Finally, he crouches down, leveling his head with yours. You can feel his breath dance across your face as he continues, “I swept you off your feet. Stole you right out from under the nose of a beastly emperor. The princess is merely a guest at my fort; it’s a safe haven for her.”

“Then one could say that the princess owes the king a lot for saving her life…”

“The king is only happy when the princess is safe and happy. She owes him nothing.”

“Is that so…?” You reach a hand into the popcorn bowl, grin sinisterly at ‘the king’, and buck a handful of the buttery goodness Sero loves so much right at his face. “Little did you know, the princess has been planning to assassinate the king in order to take the fort for herself!”

“Damn you, princess!” Sero laughs, throwing his own handful right back at you. “The king has been betrayed one too many times after giving in to acts of charity!”

“The king is a fool!” You yell, swinging a pillow at his face, knocking him back into his cushioned seminar. “Long live princess me!!”

Sero moves to remove your assault weapon from his face, only to have you climb on top of him to pin his hands behind his back

“You suck.”

“You sure wish I would.”

“I—“ Sero’s face flushes beat red while you smirk down at him. You tighten your thighs hold around him but get distracted by something poking your chest. It’s popcorn.

“Oh. Ew.” Without thinking, you pull the bits out from your bra and pop them into your mouth. Sero gives you a funny grin and it’s your turn to flush. You hide behind your hands and cry, “GAHH! I’m not a princess! I’m a troll!”

Sero uses this opening to his advantage, grabbing onto your hands and using sheer strength, flings you onto your back, panning you down against a pillowy wonderland.

“Ahhh curse your hero training,” you laugh, wiggling your legs around so you can lay more comfortably under your faux assailant.

“Troll princess,” Sero sighs, his warm breath cascading down your neck, causing shivers to prickle all across your body, “I've got you now.”

“Oh nooo.” You toss your head back, subtly lifting your pelvis to press against his. Heat floods into your belly when you feel his hardening erection pulsate against you. This isn’t what friends do and you know that. He has to know that, too. “The King’s got the poor, helpless princess locked beneath him. Whatever can she do? Whatever will he do?”

Sero goes silent. His eyes scan over your face, lips patting when they land in yours. You’re unsure of what to do— what to say. At this point you might as well tell him to kiss you.

“I don’t wanna play this game anymore,” he says in a sort of morose way. You heart falls and your stomach goes to knots. Maybe you were wrong about him feeling the same way for you do? Maybe the two of you are just really good friends. But his hands don’t move from their pinned position.

“Sero… we don’t have to do this if you don’t w—“

Your sentence gets cut short by Sero’s lips suddenly locking onto yours. You hum in surprise, but kiss him back, your skin practically screaming in delight when his tongue slides over your bottom lip. You try to reach up to him but Sero’s bolted hands hold your wrists firmly, keeping them above your head and all you can do is roll your tongue over his, trying to catch as much of him as you can before the kiss breaks.

But it doesn’t. He pushes your wrists together so he can hold you with one hand while the other slides down to your body, caressing your side until he squeezes your waist. You lift your pelvis and his arm wraps around your back, pulling you closer against his body. His cock rubs against your pubic bone and you can’t help but imagine what it may feel like inside of you.

You manage to free one of your hands and swiftly move it down to his sweats, greedily massaging him through his pants. Finally Sero pulls away, a trail of saliva connecting your lips to his.

“Oh, heh~,” he says, seizing your hand. “I’m, uh, really sensitive…”

“Oh? I’d like to see just how-“ again, you’re cut off by Sero claiming your lips, the kiss more forceful the second time around. It’s messy, and wet, and desperate, and you find yourself sighing into his mouth every time you get a chance to breathe, only to have those short moments thrown away by your own need possessing your body to kiss him back harsher, hands reaching up to his hair to tug and pull, exciting you when you hear a groan build up in the back Sero’s throat.

“Fuck.” Sero’s lips meet your neck, his hand resting against your exposed belly. It’s cold but you don’t mind; your body craves his cool touch. Using his tongue, Sero draw a long strip up from your neck to your ear, causing your body to shudder. You practically melt when he whispers, “I want you. I want you so bad. You have no idea.”

You sigh as Sero nibbles in your ear, his hands boldly exploring farther up your body. “I… think I have some idea.”

“Nuh-uh.” Sero leans back, his eyes shamelessly scanning over your body. You didn’t think it possible, but your skin warms up even more from his lingering gaze. As much as you like the attention, you want his hands right back on you pronto. “There’s no way you could possibly like me as much as I like you…”

You scowl at him. Too much talking and not enough kissing. You pull your shirt off and unclasp your bra, throwing your garments to the side, exposing yourself to him. Nervous tingles nip at your body, but the look on his face, the way his eyes flick from your face to your chest and back to your face as his adam’s apple bobs, makes it all worth it.

“Shit… you’re so— you’re everything to me, I need you to know that, like, if you’re at all uncomfortable or like if I do something you don’t like— god, you’re gorgeous, I just wanna—“

“-Sero…” You take his hands in yours and lead them back to your body. “Please… touch me.”

“Y-yeah…”

Sero presses his lips to yours in a sweeter manner, him molding to you nearly perfectly as his hands run up your sides. Goosebumps erupt across your body when he pushes you back down against the pillows. His right hand cups your breast as he trails kisses down your chest, only pausing when he begins to snicker.

“What?”

“Salty,” he says, his tongue licking dangerous close to your nipple. “You taste like popcorn.”

“Ohhhh noooooo-ahhh~!”

A pretty sight: Sero’s pink tongue rolling out to lav over your puckered bud. 

His lips wrap around your nipple; he sucks and your body jolts forward. He’s not the only one who’s sensitive. His eyes meet yours and he offers you a sinister grin. “I like it.”

Your breathing grows heavy while Sero makes his way down your stomach, making sure to pay extra attention to the places that make you squirm when he kisses them. He gets to your pajama shorts and pets your clothed slit with a knuckle. Your hips buck up when he leans down and licks you through your shorts, excited pulsations grabbing at your core. You need more.

Your shorts fly off by your own doing, whether it’s to get the ball rolling or if you want him to be giving you the exact same lustful stare he is now is lost to you, but you’ll take it. You love it. You want him to look at you like that forever.

Sero pets your core, his own breath shuddering as you roll your hips at his touch.

“You’re already so fucking wet,” he says, annunciating every word as if it pains him to say it. He rests his head in your thigh as he lazily teases you, seeming to enjoy your light mewling that comes when his fingers grow closer to your clit, the way your body moves to his touch. “I want it.”

“What ~ahah~ what are you gonna do about it?”

“Hmmm.” To your severe displeasure, Sero removes to hands, only to strip himself of his own shirt. You stare at him in awe; of course you’ve seen him shirtless before, but under these circumstances, it’s different. And you’re sure he’s bulked our a bit since the last time you caught him half-naked. Goodness.

“Ohh my god,” you sigh when he tosses his shirt to the sigh, the sight of his muscles moving over you incredibly enticing.

“What?” Sero gets to his elbows and spreads your legs open for him. He gives your pussy a long lick and groans, closing his eyes when he kisses your pubic bone. “You got something to say?”

“You’re just… so… ohhhh~!”

Sero begins laving at your heat, drowning the room with your surprised moans. His skillful tongue traces your caverns until his mouth is covered in your need. He eats you out like he’s starving for it— hell, he could’ve been famished if he says there’s no way you can like him more than he likes you. His tongue circles your clit, his never ceasing groans adding to your pleasure. You reach down as grasp at his soft hair, massaging his head as he toys with your sensitivity.

“So what, Princess?” He asks as his fingers tease your hole. The nickname sends shivers up your spine. You don’t mind it, you just didn’t think that something so cheesy could sound so hot coming from him.

“So— ahhh ahah~!” A loud moan you aren’t expecting tears out from your throat when Sero plunges two fingers into your depths. He chuckles and returns his attention back to your clit, watching your face contort in pleasure through heavy eyelashes. He sucks in you while his fingers curl against your walls, the threat of your own release building up against your stomach. You moan and pull his hair, whispering incomprehensible words, trying to find the right way to encourage him, the right way to warn him that you’re close.

“I know, I’ve got a big tongue, huh?” Oh, so he could be a smug bastard, too?

“Sssaaah~” You try saying his name, but it’s lost to you. You don’t know what to call him: Hanta? Sero? He’s been your friend for so long that saying his actual name might sound weird on your tongue, but what if saying his last name sounds weird to him? “Hero…”

“Hmmm?” His low voice murmuring into your core sends your body into a frenzy. Your body starts to shake and grip onto the cushions to keep you grounded, but that doesn’t save you from the next word you yelp out as your body is lost to ecstatic fits.

“Fuck! Oh god, Santa~ nnng~ hah~!” You squeeze your thighs together, locking him in as he gifts you with little kitten licks, elongating your excruciating orgasm with the low reverberations of his voice while he laps up your pleasure.

Your body settles but that doesn’t stop him at first. He savors your twitching body, kissing your swollen bud tenderly, brushing his hands across your sweat covered body, until he looks up at you and grins.

“So you have some kinda Christmas kink?”

You catch your breath, gazing up at the makeshift blanket ceiling, before looking back down at his goofy, red face. “What do you mean?”

“You just called me ‘Santa.’ I mean, Christmas isn’t for another month but I’m sure I could find a Santa hat somewhere if that’s what you’re into. I live to please.”

“Oh no.” You bury yourself behind your hands. “No I didn’t. No, no, noooo!!”

Sero climbs on top of you and kisses your hands. “Hey,” he sings at you, “don’t hide. I don’t kink shame.”

You grab a pillow a fling it into his face. “Shut up! Noooo!”

The two of you laugh together, his breath fanning you as he buries his head in the crook of your neck. The two of you stay like that for mere seconds but it feels like an eternity. He made you cum, but still, you crave him. You want more of him.

“That was actually really hot.” You feel him grin against your neck. “You forgetting my name. It kinda made me feel good. Really good.”

“I could… I could make you feel better,” you whisper, wrapping your hands around his back, using your fingernails to tickle his skin. He flushes.

“Is that so?” He leans down and pecks your lips. “‘Cause I wasn’t done with you. I wanna see if I can make you say all seven reindeers’ names.”

“Oh, fuck you!”

He quirks a brow. “You wanna?”

...Desperately. “Yes.”

Sero’s all too quick to free himself of his sweats and you side him by pulling his boxers down. You gulp at the sight of his erection; it’s a nice size with a beautiful curve, pre-cum already seeping out through the slit of his reddened head. You look to him and bite your lips. You grasp at the base of his length and guide his cockhead to to your mouth, pulling you tongue out to lick at his knob.

“Ahh~, um, I’m really-“

“Sensitive?” You ask before lulling your tongue underneath his cock.

“Y-yess,” he hisses, grasping at your hair to pull you back.

You grin wryly back at him. “Then how’s this going to work?”

“With me in control-“ he smirks “-lay back princess.”

You pout at him but he moves to kiss your neck, gently pushing your shoulders down so you’re back on the cushions. You reach your hands up and arch your back, an obvious ploy to get him all the more hot and bothered, and not an unsuccessful one at that.

“God damn,” he breathes, stroking his cock while taking in your figure. “God, I lo—… I need to say something before we go any further.”

“Hmmm?” You run your hands down your body. You stop at your breasts, teasing your nipples, and biting your lips. “You can say anything to me.”

“Sweet Jesus, you’re not making this easy.” He sighs and falls over you. A hand cups your face, his thumb tracing the curve of your lips. It looks like he’s eating to say something serious, but you can hardly think straight with his hardened dick resting against your thigh.

“This,” he says, stroking the back of his hand against your cheek, “can’t be… I can’t be just a rebound for you. I know I might not seem like it, but I’m an all or nothing kinda guy. You can either just be my friend—my really good friend that I’ll think about for all eternity, or you can be… my friend who I’m allowed to take on dates and kiss in public and have high make out sessions whenever we want…”

Oh! Oh he’s asking you out! You can’t help the grin from spreading across your face, but you don’t realize you’re not responding until he continues with—

“And if you’re not yet over that guy… I think I can wait for you, but I don’t… want to get my hopes up or anything…”

Sero your DICK is on my THIGH!

“Sero, you’re not a rebound. I would be very happy if you would take me on dates, kiss me in public, and have high make out sessions with me. I’d even be happy if I get to call you my boyfriend.”

He beams. “You mean that?”

“Yesss, I do. We were practically dating already!”

“Nahhh, I’ve just been warming you up. You don’t know dating until we’ve conquered the entire laser tag arena together.”

This dork. “Then I’ll wait for that with bated breath. Now, please for the love of god, fuck me before I explode!”

“Oho, we can’t have that…”

Sero lines himself up with center, allowing his cockhead to toy with your hot, needy entrance. He curses and rolls his head back as he inches himself forward, testing your heat before pulling out completely. His eyelids grow heavy when he pushes into you again and you feel yourself clamp down on him. You whimper. He feels bigger than he looks and it takes some pull before he’s completely inside you, but god, oh god, after you get used to it, you can’t help but moan as his dick slides in and out of you.

“Mmmphhhfuck, that’s good.” Slowly, Sero rolls his hips, gently fucking you at a near excruciating pace. He breathes through his teeth as his cock grinds into your walls. It feels fantastic having the head of his cock rubbing against the certain spot deep inside you. His arm wraps around your back and he pulls you flush against him, your breasts bouncing against his chest as he quickens the pace, kissing you fiercely, hungrily , while his hands lock you into place.

“You don’t know,” he seethes, “how long I’ve wanted this.”

He bites down in your neck and you claw at his back, mewling. The force, even though he’s taking his time, is addicting and you find yourself syncing up with him in no time; cursing, and panting as you sync up with him. He feels so good that you could cry, instead, you beg.

“More,” you sigh, practically his humping cock, “please Sero. I ahhh~ I need more!”

Sero growls and it sends you body spinning with lust and agony. He pushes you back down and forces himself to his hilt, making you cry out in sheer ecstasy. He presses his hand against your belly, pulls out and pushes back in with the same extremity. “More?” He growls in a sort of sensually dark tone that floods your body and shakes you to your core. “You want more, babe? I’ll give the princess anything she wants!”

“Fuuuck!” You cry, filling the room with pathetic moans as Sero drills into you with such indignant fury that it nearly makes your eyes go black. Your body grows wet with perspiration and lust, Sero pushing into you with pools of his own sweat meshing with yours.

He silences your pathetic moaning with a violent kiss, biting down on your bottom lip while he greedily paws at your breasts. Then, he stills completely, pulling back, fanning your face while he pants, “ho ho ho, amiright?”

“PFFFFT NOOO!!” Your belly clenches as the two of you bust out laughing, until Sero eyes completely glaze over.

“Ohhhh fuck,” he groans. “Keep laughing, that feels so—ohhhhh fuck!”

Something completely takes him over and you laughter turns to screams of delight when he starts completely pulverizing you with such an intense, bruising velocity that you could see your soul escape your mouth. He slams into you, lifting your leg over his head, keeping his quick and relentless pace until you feel his cock begin to throb.

“You’re. Just. So. Fucking. Hot!” he says through gritted teeth. His fingers quickly dance around your clit, rubbing at your pleasure until you feel yourself coil and your cunt flutters around his girth. “God, I can feel it. You’re close. Fuck! Babe, you need to cum. Princess, please, I can’t-!”

“I’m ~nggg~ so close!!”

Sero kisses you, shoving his tongue against yours, urgently needing to taste you. His dick twitches within you, his fingers desperately trying to get you to keep up. Your hair stands up on the back of your neck. Your coil breaks. You clench around him and allow waves of pleasure to burst through you as he rams into you with rigorous intent. You cling on to him, crying out about how good he feels, how you can’t stand not having him fill you up, how you want to feel his everything deep, deep inside of you.

Sero grunts and ruts into you. Warmth floods your core as thick ropes of cum line your hungry walls. There’s so much and it doesn’t seem to stop coming as he slows his grooving, kissing your forehead while his orgasm chases yours. You breathe in sync with one another, staring each other in the eyes, unsure of what to say, what to do, before he finally pulls out and let’s you leak onto the cushions.

“Oh, whoops,” he says, inspecting the mess. “Lemme just— warm towel…”

He hops up, but you grab him by the wrist and pull him down into a kiss. He grins against you and you feel yourself growing jubilant with everything that just happened.

“You’re incredible,” you say, holding him there for a moment before letting him back up.

“No, you.”

“Pfft!”

“I mean it!” He brings his hands up in mock defense. “You have no idea! You have no idea! I just-! Lemme get a towel and then I’ll shower you with praise!”

Sero is gone and back in a flash, warmed wet towel in hand. He takes his time wiping the sweat off your body, making sure to talk uncharacteristically sweet to you while he takes care. He wraps you in the blanket that hath forsaken him and cleans the white mess on the cushion before joining you under said blanket. His body is warmer than the blanket and you love it.

“Sooo… the movie. Movie night with my girlfriend!”

“Ha! That’s right! This is one of my favorite movies so you better pay attention! No distractions!”

“Mhmmm,” he hums half-heartedly. “No distractions.”

But even while the movie plays, your warm bodies are pressed right up against each other. There’s definitely going to be more distractions. The two of you have been waiting for this for too long, and Sero has to prove that he’s not just alright, and he certainly wants to learn all about your secret Christmas kink.

TAGS FOR EVERYTHING: @ayeputita @yandere-inamorata @dee-madwriter @unboundbnha @rizamendoza808, @rubycubix @smbody-stole-mycar-radio @zellllyyyy @sarcastictextstuck @kpanime @captain-sin-allmight-queen @psionicsnow @wickedlewicked @ghost-of-todoroki @kattariapenn @im-an-adult-sometimes @bnhya @local-senpai @eggpienutbuttercroissant @usernamekate94 @reyvenclaww @hi-ho-and-hello @rubyred-imagines

#sero x reader #bnha x reader #hanta x reader #Hanta Sero x reader #Sero hanta x reader #reader insert #bnha reader insert #mha x reader #hanta sero imagine #bnha imagine #bnha imagines #boku no hero academia #my hero academia

[hopelikethemoon]

take a hike (Javier x Reader) {MTMF}

Title: take a hike  Rating: PG-13 Length: 3300 Warnings: Angst  Notes: You can find the Maybe Today, Maybe Forever Timeline here. This is set in 1988, Reader has been with the DEA for a year. This was originally supposed to be only Reader’s POV, but guess what? You get Javi’s too.  Summary: Reader brings Lance to hang with Javier and Steve. 

Taglist:  @grapemama​  @seawhisperer​ @huliabitch​ @pedropascalito​ @rogrsnbarnes​@thewallpapergoesorido​ @twomoonstwosuns​ @gooddaykate​ @livasaurasrex​ @ham4arrow​@hiscyarika​​ @plexflexico​ @readsalot73​ @hdlynn​ @lokiaddicted​ @randomness501​@fioccodineveautunnale​ @roxypeanut​ @just-add-butter​ @snivellusim​ @amarvelousmandalorian​ @lukesrighthand​

Your fingers curled around your bottle of beer, your thumb sweeping through the condensation that was dripping down the neck of it. Back in the states, you used to be really cautious about keeping work and your personal life separate. But here in Colombia, your work friends were your only friends. 

At least you considered them your friends. Steve definitely was, considering he and Connie had been kind enough to invite you over to dinner at least once a week. Javier… was a different story. He was difficult to read on the best days. He respected you — which was almost better than being confident that he was a friend. He saw you as a peer, where others at the DEA rarely did. 

But he had been weird the last few weeks. Kind of distant, not quite as cocky. Steve assured you he was just dealing with some shit, but it was hard not to take it personally when he was only off with you.

“Hey sweetheart,” Lance said as he slid into the booth beside you. “Why the long face?”

You blinked, shaking yourself from your thoughts. “Just a long day.” You explained, taking a sip of your beer. “And the assholes are late.” 

“They didn’t strike me as the type to be on time.” He chuckled, draping his arms over your shoulders and you leaned into his side. Lance was a great distraction — though you had a feeling he didn’t realize he was a distraction. 

He had been working in coordination with the DEA for the past two months. He’d started flirting with you halfway through the first month and by the start of the second the two of you were dating. He was funny and sweet — a breath of fresh air in comparison to someone like Javier. Not that there was a comparison between the two. You weren’t sure why you even had compared them. 

“Steve’s usually better than this,” You said as you glanced at your watch, before taking a swig of your beer. “How was your day?”

He shrugged, loosening his tie. “Bureaucratic red tape, you know how it is.” 

Lance was a good boyfriend. You’d had a decent number of shitty ones back in college and high school, but this one was one of the good ones. A little boring, but he made up for it in other areas. He was tall and handsome and had blue eyes that reminded you of the ocean at the Santa Marta beach.

You sat up a little straighter when you spotted Steve and Javier strolling into the bar. Steve was saying something to Javier, but they were too far away from you to read their lips. He had his hand on Javier’s shoulder and he was quick to shrug it off — clearly pissed off by whatever Murphy had said to him. 

Javier’s eyes found yours across the room and you felt yourself shrink under his gaze. Steve caught him by the arm again and steered him towards the bar to get a drink. 

“Tweedledee and Tweedledum have arrived.” You remarked, taking a pull from your bottle, before setting it aside. The knot of anxiety had returned tenfold and even the gentle way that Lance played with your hair didn’t help it subside. 

“Sorry for the delay, we got caught up in some shit.” Steve explained as he slid into the booth across from you. “How are you doing, man?” He questioned, shaking Lance’s hand across the table. 

“Good. Good. Looking forward to the weekend.” Lance explained, taking a drink of his beer. “We’re planning on going up to Quebrada La Vieja. You and Connie have any plans?”

Steve thought for a second and shook his head, “Nah. I’ll see if she’s up for a hike.” 

“That would be nice.” You smiled, taking another drink of beer as your eyes flickered towards the bar. Javier had his back turned to the table, but even from his posture, you could tell he was in a real bitch of a mood. “What the hell happened?” You blurted out, looking back at Steve. 

He shrugged, leaning back. “It’s not worth rehashing.” Steve turned his attention back to Lance. “You a dog man or a cat man?”

Lance laughed, “Cat.” 

“Really?” You turned to look at him. 

“They’re self-sufficient.” He explained. “Dogs need too much work.” 

Javier sat his beer bottle down on the table with unnecessary force, before he slid into the booth beside Steve. “What are we talking about?”

“Lance is a cat man.” You quipped, smirking as you took a swig of beer. 

He gave Lance a once over, “Yeah I see that.” His brows furrowed together as he looked towards you briefly with a short shake of his head. “So Lance, you and your other suits have any luck this week? Heard you had a big intelligence sting.”

Lance draped his arm over your shoulders again and you leaned into his side. “No luck. Fell apart before we could get boots on the ground. Some of the players involved have deep roots, so we have to tread lightly.” He brought the bottle to his lips and took a sip. “Do you hike, Peña?”

Steve was quick to answer for him, “Javi’s idea of a relaxing weekend is definitely not hiking.”

Javier shrugged, his eyes flickering towards you again as he took a drink. “I’ve got plans. If that’s what you’re getting at.” He settled Lance with a look. “Who the fuck stands outside in this heat and thinks ‘let’s hike’.” He shook his head, lips drawn into a thin line. 

Lance chuckled, seemingly unphased by the dark cloud hanging over Javier. “I’d rather be outside hiking, instead of cooped up inside with an overworked air conditioner.” He gave you a nudge, “You want another beer?”

You glanced down at your bottle and nodded your head, “That would be nice,” You smiled at him, leaning in to press a quick kiss to his lips. “Thank you.” 

“Sure thing, sweetheart.” He grabbed your empty bottle and his own and slid out of the booth. 

“Javier, are you okay?” You questioned, taking Lance’s absence as an opportunity to figure out what your partner’s problem was. You only hoped it resolved itself over the weekend because Monday was going to be hell otherwise. 

“Do I seem like I’m not okay?”

“If you had other plans, you didn’t have to come tonight.” You told him with an edge to your voice. “I know this is a standing thing, but…” You folded your arms across your chest. “Go get laid and see if the stick up your ass falls out.”

“Fuck you,” He gritted out, snatching up his bottle and sliding out of the booth. “I’ll be back.” Javier told Steve, his eyes lingered on you for a split second before he was walking away from the table

“What the actual fuck?” You questioned as you looked at Steve, an incredulous laugh escaping you. “Is there something I should know? He has been in a rotten mood for weeks now and it’s really starting to piss me off.”

Steve shrugged. “It’ll blow over.” He tapped his fingers against the top of the table. “The hike sounds fun though. Connie’s off this weekend and I’m sure she’d like to get out of the house.” He nodded his head in the direction of Lance, “You happy?”

“He’s great.” You answered, a little too quickly. “A little… boring.” You admitted with a laugh. “But at least he’s not an asshole like some people.” 

“He’s just dealing with some shit.” Steve clicked his tongue against his teeth and shook his head. 

“Clearly.” You glanced towards the bar, watching as Lance conversed with the bartender, but your gaze was pulled towards Javier as he headed back towards the booth. His eyes were on you once again, lips drawn into a paper-thin line. Your heart clenched as you held his gaze, wondering if you had somehow pissed him off. But he was being weird with Steve too. Or at least you’d assumed as much given the words they’d had when they got to the bar. 

“Javi,” You started as he sat down. You wanted to apologize, but there was nothing to apologize for. You hadn’t done anything. You lowered your gaze to the table, studying the grain as you scraped your nail against it. “Are you looking forward to the stakeout Tuesday night?” You questioned. “You’ll never guess what I managed to track down.” 

“What?” He questioned with a whisper of a smile on his lips, the scowl fading from his features. 

You grinned at him, “Sour Cream and Onion chips.”

“You’re shitting me!” Javier matched your grin with one of his own, though it was gone the moment Lance sat back down beside you and all traces of that smile vanished without a trace. But he still knocked his knuckles against the table and offered you a quiet, “Thanks.”

You took the bottle from Lance, taking a sip of the beer. Maybe he didn’t like Lance. Maybe that was the issue. You couldn’t exactly blame him. With the CIA breathing down the agency’s neck — things had been a bit bullshit. But still, the hostility took you by surprise.

Javier was typically a difficult person, but you were rarely on the receiving end of his coldness. 

Maybe it was just because you were dating Lance now and you weren’t just ‘one of the guys’ anymore. Whatever it was, you hated it.

Maybe you could track down another bag of chips before Tuesday. Endearing yourself with food always worked with Javi. 

——————————————

“When are you going to knock this shit off, Javi?” Steve questioned, catching him by the arm just short of the door. “It’s not fair to her.”

“He’s fucking CIA.” Javier seethed, jerking his arm out of Steve’s grasp. “We’ve already got Messina breathing down our necks. Now she’s got one of the CIA suits in her bed.”

“Don’t you fucking dare go in there saying this shit, Javier.” Steve snapped, keeping him from getting any closer to the door. 

“I wasn’t going to.” He said defeatedly, rolling his shoulders as he fixed him with a look. “Thought you knew me better than that.”

“With your current attitude? I don’t know.” Steve admitted, tucking his hands into his jacket pocket. “You can’t control her, Jav. She’s free to do whatever she pleases. Who—“

Javier had had enough of this conversation. He shouldered past Steve and pulled the door open, stepping inside. Steve grabbed him by the shoulder again. “Knock it off, Murphy.”

“Just go easy on her.” Steve warned him. “Lance seems like a decent guy. Hell, maybe she’ll get the CIA off of our asses.”

Somehow that made it worse. He wrenched his shoulder out of Murphy’s grasp, eyes flickering around the bar until they settled on her. The same seat they’d called their own for the past year. A couple days a week the three of them would drown the day’s troubles away with cheap beer and good laughs. 

Now fucking Lance Collier was sitting in his seat. 

He started forward, but Steve grabbed him again. “Let’s get a beer.” He urged and Javier didn’t protest. Maybe a drink would soften the blow. The blow. Like this was that deep under his skin. 

He just didn’t like Lance. He didn’t like that he was who she’d chosen. It didn’t make any fucking sense. 

When had she ever seemed interested in high and tights? None of it made any sense. Then again nothing made sense anymore, where she was involved.

He dragged a hand over his face as he leaned against the bar. He wished he hadn’t come. But he hadn’t wanted to disappoint her. Javier was sure he’d somehow he’d find a different way to.

“I’m gonna over to the table.” Steve told him, before he was left alone at the bar to wait on the drinks. He wanted to look back — to try to figure out what she saw in him. But he could feel her eyes on him. 

Steve had a point. If he kept acting like an ass about this, he was going to lose her as a friend. He actually valued her friendship — more than even Murphy’s. Not that they were friends. She certainly didn’t judge him for his own endeavors, so why couldn’t he just get over the Lance thing?

Javier pushed his fingers through his hair with a sigh before he thanked the bartender for the drinks and headed to the table. He caught the tail end of the conversation — nothing of real importance, but he tried to act included. 

“What are we talking about?” He questioned, taking a swig of beer as he folded his arm atop the table.

“Lance is a cat man,” She remarked and he couldn’t help the little twinge of amusement. He knew her well enough to know she was judging her boyfriend for that answer. 

His eyes flickered towards Lance, wondering yet again how that dumbass had landed her. “Yeah, I see that.” Javier looked back at hers with an incredulous shake of his head. How could someone who loved dogs as much as she did end up with him? 

He wouldn’t get her. There was no way a stiff suit like Lance could appreciate her 

“So Lance, you and your other suits have any luck this week?” He had heard that it was an epic failure. Mostly because some suit like Lance hadn’t dotted the i’s. “Heard you had a big intelligence sting.”

Javier gripped his beer bottle tighter as he watched Lance drape his arm over her shoulder and his stomach twisted into knots when she settled into his side. He didn’t get it.

“No luck. Fell apart before we could get boots on the ground. Some of the players involved have deep roots, so we have to tread lightly.” He brought the bottle to his lips and took a sip. “Do you hike, Peña?”

Oh, for fuck’s sake. Javier could only think of one reason to take a hike and that was to get rid of a body. 

Steve didn’t give him a chance to answer, which was smart. Thinly veiled threats of murder never went over well in mixed company. “Javi’s idea of a relaxing weekend is definitely not hiking.” 

Javier shrugged his shoulders as his gaze flickered towards her, his eyes meeting hers as he took a drink. He couldn’t figure out what she was thinking. “I’ve got plans. If that’s what you’re getting at.” He narrowed his eyes as he glared at Lance, “Who the fuck stands outside in this heat and thinks ‘let’s hike’?”

Lance let out a good-natured chuckle, “I’d rather be outside hiking, instead of cooped up inside with an overworked air conditioner.” He turned towards her, “You want another beer?”

“That would be nice.” She smiled and kissed him and Javier forced himself to look away. He couldn’t figure out why the fuck this bothered him so goddamn much. He just hated it. She deserved better than some jackass like Lance. 

He didn’t even seem like the type who would get her off-color jokes. How was he not driving her mad? 

“Javier, are you okay?” 

He stared back at her, brows furrowed. “Do I seem like I’m not okay?” He bit back and he caught the way Steve cleared his throat. 

“If you had other plans, you didn’t have to come tonight.” She matched his tone with ease, “I know this is a standing thing, but… Go get laid and see if the stick up your ass falls out.”

Javier felt something snap within him and he briefly considered sending his beer bottle careening across the bar. But he thought better of it. Opting to hurl words instead of bottles. Something his father had taught him once — don’t make messes you don’t want to clean up while you’re pissed. 

“Fuck you,” 

His gaze turned towards the bar, watching the back of Lance’s head before he decided what he was going to do. “I’ll be back.” Javier told Steve before he left the booth before he could stop him. 

Javier headed for the bar. It was stupid. Real fucking stupid. He shooed away a patron so he could settle into the spot beside Lance. Leaning against the bar he sighed heavily. “Do you realize what you have?”

Lance turned to stare at him, “What?”

“With her.” He jerked his head back towards the table. “I don’t like you”

“Yeah, I figured that one out.”

“But she likes you. So I’m gonna tolerate you.” Javier pressed his tongue to the inside of his cheek. “She’s one of the good ones. A better agent than she’ll ever be recognized for. If you screw her over—“

“I’m not that kind of guy.” And the worst part was that Javier knew he wasn’t. 

“Not that she needs anyone, but you better fucking take care of her.” He warned him. “If you hurt her…” Javier shook his head slowly. 

Lance stared back at him, flinching when Javier clapped him on the shoulder. 

“Good talk.” He quipped, before he turned and headed back for the table. Of course she was staring at him — not at Lance. He caught her gaze the second he turned and he hated the way it made his heart clench. Why the fuck had she gotten under his skin?

“Javi,” She started as he slid back into the booth. Her lips moved like she was trying to find her words and he found his gaze lingering on them for too long. “Are you looking forward to the stakeout Tuesday night?” 

Javier shrugged. 

“You’ll never guess what I managed to track down.” 

“What?” He questioned, a smile playing over his lips as he watched the flicker of joy in her eyes. Work was a safe topic, work didn’t make him feel like his skin was crawling. 

She beamed at him,  “Sour Cream and Onion chips.”

Fuck. 

How the hell had she remembered that? Half a year ago he’d mourned the lack of good junk food available for stakeouts. An off-handed comment about Sour Cream and Onion chips and she had fucking remembered.

Lance didn’t deserve her. 

“You’re shitting me!” Javier’s heart pounded in his chest as he smiled back at her. He missed this — the easiness. But it was a short-lived moment. 

Lance returned, as if he’d sensed what was happening. 

Javier looked back towards her, holding onto the fleeting seconds of her smile. It was gone, much like his own. He knocked his knuckles against the table and offered her a faint “Thanks.” He wished he could’ve said more.

But Steve was there and none of it deserved to be said. 

Javier knew the only way to get past this was to forget whatever stupid thought he’d had. She was his partner, his friend. Would it help to go to the brothel? To get lost in someone that vaguely reminded him of her. To work whatever this was out of his system before he ruined everything.

He respected her too much. 

As much as it pained him to think it — she actually did deserve someone like Lance. Someone that would treat her right and be there for her. He could only be that person during working hours. And even then, he knew he was shit.

Why did it have to be her? 

Of all the women that passed through his life, it just had to be the one that was too good for him. The one that challenged him, laughed with him, the one he trusted. 

The one that used to rest her head on his shoulder just like she was doing with Lance, making snarky comments as Steve bored them to death with some trivial story about Connie or when he was in Miami. 

That used to be his seat. As a friend. As a partner. Nothing more. 

#javier pena #javier pena x reader #pedro pascal x reader

[honeydots]

127 with shuake would be good.

"My hands are not clean, and maybe they never will be, but they can still carry you home when you're ready to sleep."

once again. didnt forget abt these. im working thru em. 

Summary: Goro wakes up one day in a hospital bed with only a bullet wound to keep him company, and not a single memory of who he used to be. 

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(ao3 link)

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He was almost certain the last few weeks had been a dream. 

Or maybe, several long and white coated dreams. The kinds with bright lights at an arm's length, and ill-fitting clothes, and men coming in waves carrying their clipboards as flags. With deep voices all at once whispering, echoing, “what is your name?” 

Maybe he was in a hospital. 

His first day of full consciousness was slow and lonely. His second day too, time spent wiggling his toes and counting ceiling spots. Day three he asked for a glass of water and scared a nurse out of her skin, and his week was kickstarted. Which only really meant an actual doctor came in and declared retrograde amnesia the only explanation for his condition.

His “condition” was quite the word to use. Which condition? They could play bingo. Was it his memory loss (obvious, weak narrative), or could it have been the state of comatose he’d been in (intriguing), or even the bullet wound (now here was a mystery, what a plotline) he’d heard remarkably little about? Amnesia, the fickle bastard, was the type to bring one answer to dinner, and disappear by morning. 

But what did he know? 

Well, he knew that this was a pretty shitty hospital.  As far as how he assumed they should be managed, this one was on a low tier. And according to the nurse, as was their police station. Incompetent, and uncaring of his case, which had apparently been made. 

It’d been a week now. He could get up. Limited, with his IV, but he could. The nurse said later that maybe the police would listen to him now, since he was conscious, basically up and kicking. ‘Listen to him now,’ was also an interesting phrase, because he hadn’t been speaking in the first place. 

He wasn’t injured. His vitals were fine, the nurses had told him, and commented he was taking up an unnecessary bed. Not that he could actually make any kind of sound argument, which was frustrating enough on its own, but this didn’t seem like proper procedure. 

He was, once again, very alone in his room. He thought about going to the police station. Incompetent as they may be, there would be no answers here. There was no one here to help him; some healthy boy in a hospital bed. 

He got up. His IV was stuck in poorly, the tape just barely holding on. They’d disconnected him from all sorts of machines. Nothing was roping him down except for saline solution and his own two feet. 

And, he was already standing. 

It wasn’t hard to pull out. 

His hospital gown was tied all the way down, falling just past his knees. He had odd socks on, their texture was weird, and they were several sizes too big. They were thick and patterned, maybe slip proof? But shoeless as he was, they would do.  

The hallway was very empty. He was on the ground floor, but he wasn’t sure there were other stories. Maybe one, or a basement. It didn’t matter much. There just wasn’t anyone around. His concern was in that he didn’t know how long their absence would last. 

There was a glass door at the end of the hallway.

To the police he’d go. A medical bill dodging amnesiac would probably get him some attention. Enough to get a name? 

The door was not locked. That was probably good, for a hospital, and not a security breach, which is where his mind had initially gone. 

Doors are meant to be opened, he thought. There really isn’t anything wrong with that. 

It was just a little bright outside. The sun was up but not too far. He was in the parking lot, and it was almost entirely devoid of cars. Small, small hospital. 

He didn’t exactly have a map, and no nurse was around to give him any condescending directions. He’d might as well go forward, then. He started walking, and thought to himself how odd his feet felt on the concrete. 

No one was out. He hesitated to call it deserted, just maybe a bit early. He kept walking, nerves high, still worried he might get mauled by a stray doctor.

It seemed like this was a very small town, going by his surroundings. Lots of trees, and cracked roads, and old buildings. He didn’t think much of taking it all in. He’d have time for sightseeing when he remembered his initials. 

A bit farther ahead was a woman, leaning on a car parked on the side of the road. She was glaring down at her phone. She looked— maybe irritated? Or tired. He wondered if he could ask her for directions. An aimless stroll through town wouldn’t take him to where he was going, after all. 

“Excuse me,” he called, “Ma’am? Do you know the way to the police station?” He approached her with just enough caution to call it looking out for himself, ignoring the sorry state he was already in. 

She glanced up from her phone. Her hair was short, and dark, and it bobbed around her face. She registered him for a moment, and her eyes went big. 

“Holy shit.” 

He knew enough to know that wasn’t the answer he was looking for. “I need to go to the police, please.” 

The woman kept staring at him. “You—” she stuttered, “are you Goro Akechi? You are, aren’t you?” 

This encounter was already going awry. Did she know him? “Do you know me?” 

“Uh…I mean, no, we’ve never met.” She pushed herself off her car, and slowly put her phone back into her pocket. 

That wasn’t really what he meant. He needed to persist, here. This could be a lucky hit. “No I— Do you know who I am?” 

Blatant confusion spread across her face. “Uh…  Are you not Goro Akechi?”

“I don’t know,” he answered. 

She stared at him again, almost suspicious. Then she looked him up and down.

“Are you… coming from the hospital?” 

“Yes.” He watched her mouth open just a bit in disbelief. He wondered how this woman knew him. If explaining would get more information out of her, then he’d do it. Privacy only existed when you had something to protect, after all. “I’ve been given an amnesiac diagnosis, you see. I’m going to the police station to see if I can find any sort of lead on myself.” 

She looked shocked. “Amnesia? And you’re going to the cops?” She blinked, and suddenly looked very serious. She grabbed one of his shoulders. “Wait. That’s bad news. Don’t go to the police.” 

He (Goro?) hadn’t expected to hear that.“What? And why shouldn’t I?”  

“You… holy shit, kid, do you actually have amnesia?” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “Listen you need to— oh good god, this is gonna sound like I’m trying to kidnap you— I definitely know who you are. I can tell you but we shouldn’t… here. If someone finds you… ” She exhaled hard, and looked him dead on. It made Goro freeze. “Fuck, okay. The gist of it is— you’re in more danger than you realize. Like, a lot more. Will you come talk with me in my car?” 

Alright. So, a lot to process, and a lot he didn’t know how to. He didn’t even know if he should process it, or if that was the kind of story that should be immediately disregarded. Someone telling you to not go to the police and please get in their car seemed like a textbook stranger-danger red flag. There had been something uneasy about her tone, though. Like genuine concern— not that such a thing couldn’t be perfected and acted, however. 

But she’d given him a name. And it felt almost tangible, the more he thought about it. Less bendable and more sturdy. It was very easy to attach to himself. And it was a lead, wasn’t it? 

“Hey, did you get discharged, or are you just wandering around? Cause they’re gonna be looking for you if they didn’t let you out,” said the woman, jump starting Goro (almost certainly, Goro) out of his head. “And kid, I cannot just let you turn yourself in to the cops.” 

‘Turn myself in,’ he thought to himself. Such particular wording. It made his stomach drop. This woman knew more than him, clearly. And really, for fucks sake, if he died, he died. Obviously he hadn’t left enough of a mark on anyone to warrant not a single visitor during a five year coma. According to the nurses, it was more evident that he’d simply been dumped in town— like someone had already been trying to get rid of him. 

Well, whoever they were, they’d forgotten to bury his bones. 

He straightened himself up. “Okay.” 

She looked surprised, at first. She swallowed around it. “...Yep, okay then. Hop in before you change your mind.” She popped open her car door, and Goro circled around the side and followed suit. 

Her car was messy. It was filled with food wrappers and empty bottles, but papers and notebooks were scattered around, too. So she kept busy, it seemed. He decided he’d consider this a point in the not-about-to-murder-you direction. Too much here that could be used as evidence against her. Too personalized. He was almost envious. 

She adjusted her seat forwards and turned on the ignition. She was a bit jittery, Goro noticed, as she scratched the back of her head vigorously. 

“So, I’m gonna drive us somewhere that isn’t here but I can talk and drive so, just— like,  just a second, okay?” 

He nodded. She drummed her fingers against the steering wheel. “...Goddamn,” she muttered, and then pressed down on the gas, turning her car onto the barren road. 

She kept her eyes forward, but kept true to her promise of talking. She sighed. “Right. So, uh, to start… Okay, first, my name’s Ichiko Ohya, I’m a journalist. Get that cleared away. Next comes you which is a bit more complicated, but you probably wanna know why we’re dodging cops so I’ll start there. Or, as close to there as I can.”

He would take anything he could get from her, actually. The cops situation was undeniably concerning, but right now he was essentially a sentient empty shell, absorbing everything for the first time. A kid in a metaphorical candy store, but the store was a dodgy reporter who still might be kidnapping him and just stalling.  He’d call himself the kid, but it dawned on him he didn’t even know how old he was. Fantastic. More things the hospital staff hadn’t bothered to tell him. 

“Your name’s Goro Akechi. I told you that already but, that’s you. At least I’m like, ninety percent sure.” She spared him a glance. “You do look a bit different but all in all I’m— I’m pretty sure. Just the hair and the stubble, you know.” 

Goro hadn’t exactly looked in a mirror recently, so no, he didn’t know. He knew he had long hair— certainly longer than Ohya’s. He rubbed his jaw and felt the rough and gritty bristles that had prickled onto him. It bothered him that he didn’t know. It bothered him that he didn’t know what he looked like. 

Ohya continued, not letting him dwell for long. “You’re also sort of famous. Well, you were, and it was mainly with teenagers and moms in the city, but you were a popular detective. So, that’s how I know you. And I swear I’m getting to the running from cops part, but you have to know this first first. Oh, shit, it’s right here.” She took a sharp turn into a grocery store, and Goro had to grip the side to keep steady in his seat. 

She didn’t act very sheepish about it. “Sorry, for that. We’re gonna talk in here.” 

She paused her explanation to pull into a spot, which Goro felt a little thankful for because, under his circumstances, that felt like a lot of information to take in. He was well known, but not well known enough that anyone out here knew him. ‘Famous detective’ raised some weird alarms in his head, a position absurd enough that it might be true. It felt unfortunately right, like a disappointing truth. It was different from his name, more unwelcome. But it didn’t click either. Nothing had been clicking at all. 

There was a pit growing in his stomach, like something was in there, chewing down on his insides. But he’d found he didn’t care for ignorance, so he would put up with it for as long as it took. 

Ohya turned her car off, pushed her seat away from the wheel, and got herself comfortable. She faced him, nonchalant but sincere. “So this is where the really juicy stuff comes in, alright? So like, listen up now, if you weren’t.” There was something very serious about her eyes. 

As if he’d have let any of her explanation slip under his radar. “I’m listening.”  

That was a good enough answer for her, it seemed. 

“I’m trying to think of the best way to explain this, honestly,” she started, thumbing the back of her hand. “You… okay, there was this guy. He was a really big politician that you were involved with, and it’s kind of a gray area as far as what you were doing for him, but you and him worked together. Kind of. He was a really shitty guy.” 

She looked like she was considering her words. She turned her focus out the windshield for a moment, and sighed again. “He basically ended up confessing because this group— well, actually, they don’t matter right now. He confessed, and he talked about you. For some of it. It was a long fucking confession. But half of what he said wasn’t even coherent. He was talking about some crazy shit and no one knows what he meant by it. You were part of that whole section.” She paused again, thinking. Goro let the silence sit. He didn’t want to jump to a conclusion until he’d heard her out. Which was proving difficult, truthfully, because this all left a sour taste in his mouth, one that had almost certainly been there before. 

“They wanted to take you in for questioning, but you disappeared. And, to add fuel to the fire, they were having a hard time getting any actual concrete evidence,” she began. “Can’t make an arrest based on a confession alone. He did other things, too, and that's what he ended up being indicted for, but there's still that problem. This whole chunk of confession is still there that technically lines up with his timeline of events, but there’s no way to prove it. That’s why they want you,” Ohya’s expression darkened. “At least, publicly, that’s why they want you.” 

She readjusted in her seat again. She faced him fully. “This guy— Shido’s his name— he’s got goons. Not to mention, he had complete control over the police, and there are other higher up’s who worked with him. Some of those guys got busted with Shido’s confession, but there’s a few where there just isn’t enough evidence to put ‘em away. These are the ones who you need to watch out for.” She took a deep breath, not finished. 

“I’m gonna be frank with you,” she continued. “They want you dead. They don’t want a single loose end, and you’re still dangling. The police are on their side. Are you understanding me?”

Goro tried to let the words sink in. That was more than a lot to think about. The creature in his stomach was grinning now, he could tell. But, this was also no time to get overwhelmed. If her words were true— which, the overwrought familiarity of her explanation compelled him to trust them— he needed to keep his head above the water. 

“So these— subordinates. You’re saying they’re after my life? They can’t be actively hunting me down, if they have the influence you’re implying, or I’d have been found by now,”  Goro said, deciding to ignore the fear creeping up his spine. “So then, what’s my public status? How unlikely was it that I was the egoless comatose patient they were searching for?” 

“Uh…” said Ohya, seeming like she was the stunned one. “Well, you’re right, they don’t really have a manhunt right now. I guess I don’t need to worry about beating around the bush here— you’re presumed dead.”

Interesting. “That doesn’t surprise me,” he said, furrowing his brow. “But, obviously, a body was never found. They’re probably prioritizing morgues then, not hospitals. That does explain why I wasn’t discovered after all this time.” Though, if they’re smart, they’d also keep an eye on cases like his. They probably were, in fact. He’d gotten lucky that the police here were clueless. 

Ohya gave him a very funny look. “You know, it’s almost creepy how well you’re taking this. You were in a coma this whole time?” She shook her head. “I’d have thought you’d be more out of it, honestly.” 

“Is this not what you’d consider a wake-up call? I’ve been ‘out of it’ for a week. It’s common sense that I’d react like this,” he told her. Just going outside had cleared his head. He had a feeling hospitals had never been a fitting place for him. “Yes, I was in a coma,” he added, as an afterthought. “They said I’d been shot.” 

Just as the words left his mouth, he realized the implications that had. 

Ohya noticed just as fast. “You said shot?” 

They’d certainly both had the same assumption— maybe an attempt had already been made after his life. 

But there was something that felt wrong about that scenario, too. “I’m not… entirely sure it’s what you think it is,“ he replied. Maybe wrong wasn’t the correct word but, it wasn’t completely right either. “There’s no benefit to not making my body public. And, if they’re really after me, it seems messy, to say the least, that they didn’t finish the job properly.” He tried to speak confidently. The effort was familiar, too. Part of him wondered when he’d get the chance to do some self-analysis and tear himself apart. 

Ohya caught on very quick, rolling with every punch Goro gave. “Christ, kid. What kind of shady shit were you into? So we’re thinking you’ve got another group after you?” 

“I don’t know.” 

He really didn’t. There were missing pieces, but that was evident. He had no end of missing pieces. If he was supposed to be some detective, then maybe he should get on with acting like it, and figure out whatever the hell this was.

Whatever business he’d wrapped himself into. 

Ohya, again, spoke too quickly for Goro to finish digging through his own head.

“Maaan, I’ve really got myself into something haven’t I?” She rubbed her eyes, like she was already exhausted. “Look, I’m a busy woman. Don’t expect much out of me, but apparently I’ve got a bad habit of adopting puppies. So I’ll see if I can at least point you in the right direction, okay?” 

He didn’t have much of another choice, other than to let himself be killed. He nodded again, not sure whether to call himself pleased or solemn. 

She buzzed her lips and looked at him, obviously thinking. Then she opened her car door. “Well, okay. First things first, you gotta get some clothes, ‘cause you can’t go walking around like that. God, you don’t even have shoes…” She got out and stretched, and then turned back to him for one last comment. “Don’t expect much, okay? I’m not made of money. Don’t you dare go anywhere, either.” 

She slammed the door shut and started walking into the store. 

Goro was glad for the moment of peace. He let his jaw relax, closing his eyes. He hated how familiar the stress felt, and how desperate he was to welcome the feeling. A life or death promise was about as thrilling as one day should get. 

Getting any memory back was his top priority. But he didn’t have an inkling of where to start. He didn’t have a phone, or a computer, and certainly not a home. He guessed he could use a public computer at a library, but just searching himself might raise more questions than answers. They’d be important questions, he was sure, but he wondered about the bias, the assumptions, the fact that it’d be an outside perspective looking in. He didn’t know how delicately he should go about regaining his memories. 

Not to mention, he had only the word of a stranger and a low feeling in his stomach confirming he was even Goro Akechi. And now, with the reputation he’d had, if he even wanted to be him was questionable. Memories of such a life seemed… unpleasurable, at best, but he hadn’t set himself up to be able to just start over. Remembering his past was his best chance at plain old survival. 

He wanted to have some kind of plan before Ohya came back, but he was drawing blanks. What he really needed was someone who knew him personally. Beyond media attention, if there was a single poor soul around who’d actually known him. He found himself doubting such an existence, past anyone who was out for his head. 

He heard the car doors unlock, and he opened his eyes. Ohya was walking back with two bags, and she was on her phone again, barely looking where she was going. Well, there goes him having a plan. Bouncing ideas back and forth was the last thing he wanted to do. It was time wasted and he knew he would get frustrated, but his choices were limited. At least Ohya seemed pretty knowledgeable. It was possible she knew more than she was letting on, too. 

She opened up the car door and tossed the bags onto his lap. “Hey,” she began, setting herself back into place, “I got your stuff but— I remembered something in there that might be a good starting place for you, if I can run that by ya.” 

Or, of course, he could hear Ohya out and avoid idea bouncing all together. Something solid had come by much quicker than he thought. 

*****

Ohya’s plan wasn’t bad at all. 

She’d told him she had a contact from a few years ago, who was in charge of a bundle of self storage units. Apparently a certain “Goro Akechi” had registered himself one a couple months or so after Goro’s public disappearance. They’d told her once they noticed the name, but Ohya hadn’t taken up the lead at the time. When Goro asked why they’d even told her that, she left it at “no reason important,” and kept the topic adamantly off the table. Goro would push the envelope if it weren’t for the fact that his life (a life he didn’t even know he had, for the record, and one that still bothered him) was on the line. 

If this unit did belong to him, there could be a very solid lead on himself in there, and leads on his acquaintances, too. Ohya didn’t know if the garage still existed, though. So she said she’d give them a call and see if they could figure something out. 

Which is what led to Goro sitting in a barber’s chair. After he’d gotten dressed (an ensemble of sweats, a sweatshirt, and tennis shoes) Ohya had commented that he looked like he belonged in a homeless shelter, and “really needed a haircut.”

She said something about how he’d always kept himself looking clean, and Goro believed it. He was already feeling discomfited the way he was. So unkempt and basically filthy. So, she decided that while she was getting her contact all in order, she’d pay for him getting a trim and a shave. 

She was helping him more than he’d expected her to, in ways he didn’t really expect. But he’d take what he could get. He’d hardly had a reason to say no. 

He sat waiting in front of a mirror. He hadn’t gotten a good look at himself until now, but god, she was right, he looked pretty fucking bad. 

The first thought that came to him was sickly. Eyes sunken in, deep bags under his eyes. You wouldn’t expect him to have just been in a permanent state of slumber for the past five years. Or maybe the correct assumption would be, a coma hadn’t been enough sleep for him. 

His hair was just below his shoulders, and he had a very pitiful looking beard. He didn’t recognize himself. He didn’t think that would change much after his haircut, but it made him itch. It was a face that didn’t feel like his. He wanted to rip it off and replace it with a new one, one he knew better. 

Maybe he’d never liked looking at his reflection. 

Ohya had spoken to the barber for him. The one he got either wasn’t the talkative type, or really got his vibe of not wanting to speak to anyone. She went to work in silence, washing his hair with fruity shampoo and dressing him in a long black apron. That was all fine, albeit uncomfortable, but once she started cutting, Goro found he couldn't watch. The snips were loud, and definite, and it left his chest feeling tight. He couldn’t do anything but let his thoughts run blank. 

He wondered if that was hair he’d had before his incident, now falling away. He’d have the same eyes, and organs, and teeth, too. But he felt all wrong in this body. Like it had gone on without him. 

He was thankful when she moved to his beard. Just for a moment, though, because having someone so close to his face made him want to retreat as far back into himself as possible. A blade so close to his throat. He wondered how hard of a push it would take to make a cut. He wondered how deeply he’d have to go to make it bleed. 

 Maybe he’d always hated barbers, too. 

When she’d announced she was finished, and Goro forced himself to look back in the mirror, it actually took him aback. It had taken years off him. She’d styled his bangs, and left no hair on his chin, but most importantly, it was clean. Soft looking. Pleasant. 

It was almost enough to distract him from the discolored scar plastered on his forehead. 

He stared for probably too long. His disheveled bangs had kept it clearly out of view on his first glance, but now that he was fresh and groomed, it pushed its way into the limelight. It was reddish, and almost shiny, and painstakingly circular. 

He could feel dread bubbling up. He tore himself away from the mirror, and found an instant sense of relief when he wasn’t staring anymore. 

Reflections and barbers. More to read into later, he supposed. He was learning he had been quite the hassle. What an annoyance. 

Ohya met him at the entrance. Pure amusement was all over her face. “Shorter than I expected, but you’re looking pretty smart like that.” Her eyes went to his scar, but she made no comment on it. She frowned, but that was all. 

Goro didn’t mind her reluctance on the topic. He raised his eyebrows, and spoke with the silent mutual understanding of  “that is one gnarly goddamn scar” between them. “Ah, and I’m sure the sweatpants add to the look.” 

“Watch it,” she snapped back, sliding into her usual demeanor. “Not like I could get you Levi’s, kid.” 

She paid for his haircut, and out of the shop they went. They walked to the car in anticipating silence. She had her phone out again, texting someone now. Goro didn’t want to get his hopes up. Texting could mean anything, or nothing, or half of one or the other. 

She pushed her seat back getting into the car, and pulled one leg up with her. Goro waited for her to speak, keeping himself tense. He really wouldn’t be able to loosen up if he tried, like a wound up doll who’d gotten stuck. 

Ohya broke the quiet. “It’s still there.” 

Goro sucked in, but didn’t let himself relax. Nothing ended there. It was one check off a list, but not all of them.

 “And can we go in?” 

Ohya blew air out of her mouth. “Well, she said she wants to make sure it's you, because there's only so many privacy laws she wants to break.” She shrugged at him. “But honestly, looking at you now, there's not a doubt in my mind you’re Goro Akechi. So, you can chill about it.” 

He leaned back into his seat. The tensity had not left him. Something was making him lucky today, and he hated it. He would feel much more comfortable in the mitts of misfortune. But he couldn’t help feeling giddy, too. Like something was rubbing circles into his back, easing, but not erasing, bits and pieces of his concerns. It was something to focus on, and a goal to achieve. Above all, that relief made him feel pathetic. 

“I was gonna ask if you wanted to go today or not, but you look more thrilled than I think I’ve ever seen you, so I’m just gonna take that as a yes.” 

He hated the way she worded that. He frowned. “Only if you’re as concerned about my identity as you seemed to be earlier. You’re welcome to take your time, I’m surely not going anywhere.” 

“You’re snarky! I never realized you had an attitude,” Ohya laughed. 

She got the car going, and they were on their way to the unit. Apparently it was quite a ways, and Ohya advised him he’d better buckle in for a long one. 

He could feel his eyelids getting heavy. He had things he wanted to think about, and questions he wanted to ask. Working up a tolerance to being active was not something that could be done in a day, but fuck if he wouldn’t try anyway. 

But, despite how he tried to fight it, Goro fell asleep. 

*****

He woke up when they were about ten minutes from the units. Ohya commented she’d thought it was a little funny that he’d been so exhausted doing just about nothing all day, but admitted too that his body was probably pretty weak, and he really should take it easy. As easy as he could, at least. 

They were both quiet for the remainder of the drive. The sun was getting low now. They were passing by suburbs between grassy fields, driving past exit by exit. He had no idea how long they’d been going for. Ohya had called herself busy, and Goro believed it, so her continual help felt unusual. People weren’t just like this, he was almost sure. 

She also knew things that felt… almost inappropriately relevant to him. The topic of the unit still tingled in the back of his mind. Why had they called her about his storage? And for that matter, why had she even known so much about him? The information she had felt intimate— like the results of a deep investigation. Had this all been yielded from that politician? 

But Ohya had a distinct air of privacy. There could’ve been something personal about her aid, but Goro figured that she wouldn’t crack easily. It might be better to leave it— personal matters tended to yield lasting effects, after all. At least, he assumed so. He really wasn’t sure if that was as big of a plus as it appeared on the surface, though. 

When the centre came into view, Goro let those thoughts ease into the back of his mind. He could focus on Ohya’s MO later. This was leaps and bounds more important to him; if anything was going to last, it was this. He could play detective, just like he was supposed to, and maybe come across some special clue. Perhaps he could test out his muscle memory and flex whatever skills he presumed he’d had. 

They arrived, and it looked extremely closed. Like the only customers they’d been expecting were ghosts. The lights in the windows were off, and the gate guarding the units was shut tight. It wasn’t encouraging. 

Ohya read his expression pretty clearly. She bumped his shoulder with her fist. “She knows we’re coming, my contact’s still here. The front just closes at 6:00. I’ll deal with it, so just stay put for now.” 

And just as she said, after she hopped out of her car and approached the office, the door swiftly opened and a woman joined Ohya outside. The two of them seemed friendly. Goro watched as they talked, noting quizzically to himself that Ohya was someone who talked with her hands. 

Ohya gestured to her car and they both looked over to Goro. He watched them walk over, and obeyed smartly when Ohya signaled him to roll down his window. 

 The woman peeked her head around to look at him, her eyebrows arched high. “Wow,” she said, completely staring now. “I mean, he looks like him, that’s for sure.” 

Ohya grinned. “Sure does. That enough for you to let us in?” She didn’t really say it as a request, more like an expectation. Goro appreciated the tone. 

She fiddled with her bottom lip. “Hmm. You said amnesia? He got any doctor's notes about that?” She asked, giving cue to Ohya’s sour expression. 

“You didn’t say a word about notes 

on the phone, you know.” 

The contact clicked her tongue, and looked back to Goro. She bit the inside of her cheek, and sighed. “Just cause it’s you, Ohya, I’ll take that nasty scar on his forehead as my confirmation.” She rubbed the back of her neck. “Come with me inside, I’ll get his key.” 

Ohya made a haughty noise of achievement, and followed the woman back in. Goro rolled up the window again. 

They were taking a little while. He rubbed at his scar absentmindedly. So obviously a bullet wound, maybe that had been the real reason his barber hadn’t made much conversation. Whoever tried to kill him had shot just where it counted. You don’t fire a warning shot into a head. He wondered if he’d deserved it, and doubted he didn’t.  

Goro removed his hand when Ohya reemerged from the building, and she was looking confident. She slid back into her car and jingled the key to his unit victoriously. “Easy peasy. She’s gonna open the gate for us in a second. Your unit number is 508.” 

They waited for a little while, nerves ever growing, until the automatic gates opened on their own, groaning and creaking until fully extended. Ohya started her car and drove in, squinting at the unit numbers in the low light.

Rows upon rows of garages awaited them. This must’ve been a pretty large lot, by the looks of things. The dirt road was the only uneven piece of scenery, the repetition was endless. He kept a watchful eye on the unit numbers, as well, skipping between the evens and the odds. 

After a few right turns, and one very tight u-turn, they were there. 508 stood wedged between its neighbors, almost at the end of the row, but not quite. Not a thing stood out about it. It was just as gray and worn and untouched as the rest of the facility. Not even the dirt was remarkable. It reminded him of the hospital. 

Ohya held the key out to Goro. 

“I’m assuming you want this to be a ‘just you’ kinda thing?” 

The gesture was something he should’ve expected, but didn’t. It made him hesitate for a moment. 

He took the key. “I appreciate it,” he said. 

“No sweat.” 

He got out of her car, and she drove off to the end of the row. She stayed parked within general sight of the unit. It was essentially pseudo privacy, but neither of them knew how long he’d be in there, and who knows what this could trigger. Ohya also didn’t seem like she knew a thing about amnesia. He wouldn’t look to her for comfort of any sort, but there was reassurance in her being a safe figure. 

He took a deep breath. In through the nose, out through the mouth. This was his step one. He’d gotten himself into some deep shit, his past self hadn’t seemed to have a shred of self preservation in mind. Had he not encountered Ohya, he could’ve been dead by the hands of the crooks that call themselves the police by now. He had a lot more steps to cover, and each one would be riskier than the next. He was much more on his own than he realistically should’ve been. Most people had friends, as far as he knew. But this was seemingly his own fault. He wanted to know why exactly it was his fault. 

One more deep breath. 

He inserted the key into the lock, and grabbed the handle of the metal shutter. He pushed up, and with a squeak of rust and a bang of metal, he opened up his door to more dangerous times. 

And it was nearly empty. 

It was barren concrete. Newly disturbed dust was floating about. It was eerily quiet, and the stale air made his throat itch. Cobwebs stuck in the corners, barely visible in the low light of the setting sun. Though he wouldn’t call it underwhelming. 

In the center of the floor was a cardboard box. About medium sized, without a lid. It matched well with the rest of the room, lined with dust and unaltered. He kneeled in front of it. 

It was its contents that felt much more exciting. There were papers, lots of them. Thick manila envelopes full of information for him to flip through. He scooted back towards the entrance and pulled the box along with, trying to get the last of the light funneling in to help him read. 

It was heavier than he expected, and he didn’t know how much to attribute that to his current lack of strength. He took out the first envelope and it, despite the dust, was clear and candid. When he flipped it around, he noticed with eagerness that there was writing on the front. He tried to make it out as clearly as he could, and in careful handwriting, it read: “05/21/2020— Case No. 1471” 

It was a case file. He pulled out another envelope, and it was similarly marked. His interest was surely piqued. There must’ve been some sort of relevance to these, if they were going to be so pointedly left here. He pulled out a third, and then a fourth, and from the weight he’d expected many more. But, the pile ended there. Instead, what filled the rest of the box was another, smaller, wooden one. 

He took it out delicately, gripping it securely around the sides to ensure he didn’t drop it. This seemed much more… personal. Shiny cherry wood, latched but not locked, just small enough to sit on his lap firmly. A thought that couldn’t help but be excited came to mind. 

This could’ve belonged to me. 

He wasted no time. He undid the latch, and it gave a satisfying click. The hinges creaked just barely as his clammy hands lifted the lid, and pulled all the way back, until it rested hanging by itself. 

Inside sat more papers. Some were crisper than others, some had obviously been crumpled and then flattened out again. But there was consistency in each of them being folded neatly in half, stacked neatly on top of each other. 

He picked up the one from the beginning of the pile, unfolded it, and was surprised to find it had hardly been written on; a simple “To you,” at the top. This was a candidate that had been clearly wadded up and discarded. He set it down carefully, and picked up the next. 

This one hadn’t been written on much, either. It said even less, just “Hello.” 

He picked up another, and another. It was all soft stationary, each topped with slightly different wordings, and some decorated with a couple lines, even. But they were all just about the same, a simple greeting, and then resigning. 

They were letters. Or rather— drafts for one. So he’d learned today that he was indecisive, maybe a bit quick tempered, but potentially also at least organized. He assumed the existence of these drafts meant he’d never gotten around to sending his letter, either. And perhaps he’d never get such a chance, if this visit didn’t convince any muggy memories to creep out of their caves.  

As he pulled out drafts and read his pathetic one-liners, he came across a page that was different. There was actually a fair amount of content on it, over a paragraph's worth. It had obviously also been cast aside, but even a spare scrap could be useful to him, in this state. He used the last of the remaining light to read it. 

“To whom it may concern, 

I would like to skip the inherent shamefulness of writing a letter to you, of all things, in my introduction, and I will title this ambiguously under the assumption that if you believe this does truly not concern you, that you will save me the mortification of reading through it anyways. 

I won’t formally phrase this as a farewell, but you should take it as one. 

Our unknowns are too great to write, and while you were not innocent, neither am I, and there are truths between the two of us that shouldn’t have remained unspoken. I’ve never thought to run from the blame. 

My hands are not clean, and maybe they never will be, but they can still carry you home when you’re ready to sleep. 

Perhaps a fact I recognized too late.

I do not want to say goodbye, however I—“

It cut off. 

The letter left a lump in Goro’s throat. He read it through once more. He wanted to analyze each sentence down to its core, but the light had died out. But there were bits and pieces, words that suck out in his mind. “Farewell,” “Innocent,” “Unspoken.”

“Too late.”

Goro bit down on his lip hard. The case files— those he understood. With the life he’d allegedly lived and the people he’d known, of course something like that would be predominant. They were fact on paper, ignorant of bias, they’d be full of names and leads. They were important. But, he didn’t understand why these almost-letters had been left here. Out of anything that could’ve been kept. Had there been someone he’d felt so strongly for? To be kept in safety behind lock and key? 

To identify this person— that could be his next goal to achieving his memories. To ignite the fire of their eventual reunion, and perhaps they could know what happened to him. They could come easy, though he suspected that anyone who he’d decided to be so rottenly open with wouldn’t be typical. But, they would also know him, past the media, past the appearances. 

And, though he wasn’t going to admit it, he’d needed something more hopeful to work towards. 

He put the papers back where they belonged, placed the entire case back into the cardboard box, and stacked the case files back atop it. 

There was no telling how old these letters were. They could’ve been from much before his incident. But this set him up for a goal, a big one, that might get him back to whatever meager place he’d left himself in. 

He picked up the box, and prepared himself to head back outside to Ohya. He needed to muster up his resolve, because this was only the first out of two very important clues this visit could provide. 

He positioned the box onto his waist, and took one last look into the dark before closing up his unit. He returned to Ohya’s car, pulling open the door without so much as a greeting, and set the box on the floor in front of his seat. 

Ohya leaned forward, interested. “That a box you got?” 

He wasn’t going to talk about the embarrassing letters he found. Even if he wanted to, his second clue came first. “It’s not that important right now,” he lied. “Is your contact still here?” 

She raised her eyebrows at him, but let the topic drop. “Sure is. She can’t leave ‘till we leave.” 

Good. “I need to speak with her.” 

She hummed in reply, seeming very curious by his idea. They drove back up to the entrance, Ohya not questioning his motives, but still giving him an inquiring side eye every so often. 

They got out of the car together this time, and walked into the front office. The woman was reading behind the counter, almost completely in the dark, with only a desk lamp lighting her work area. 

She glanced up at them, and placed her book upside down. “Hey there. You got that key?” 

“Yes,” Goro replied. He placed it lightly on the counter. She took it without a word, and got up to put it back on its hook. Goro stopped her before she turned. “I have a question for you.” 

She seemed a little surprised. She glanced between him and Ohya, and then put her free hand on her hip. “Okay?”

He hoped he could push his luck just a bit further today. He’d made it this far, after all. 

“Is there any way I can see the documentation that was filed when this unit was made?” he asked. 

The woman pursed her lips. “Ohya?” 

Ohya put her hands up defensively. “Don’t look at me. This is all him.” 

The woman stared at Goro. He stared back. This was arguably the most important part of the visit. He needed to see those papers. Just a single particular part, it was the one factor that needed an explanation. He would not leave until he got that documentation, and if he had to stand his ground and pull her leg a bit to get it, he would. 

After their staring contest lasted just a moment too long, she folded her arms. “Jeez. Only because I feel bad for you, okay?” she huffed, turning on her heel. “And because my niece liked your food blog.” 

She disappeared into the back of the office, leaving Goro feeling just a bit full of himself. He would think about the food blog comment later.

Ohya lightly punched his arm. “Okay, good going. But whatcha going to do with that?” 

“There’s something I need to check,” he replied flatly. It made Ohya grunt unenthusiastically. 

The woman returned with a few papers, all paper clipped together. She tossed them onto the counter. “This is a customer copy, okay? So feel free to keep it.” She glared at Ohya. “And, I’m going home now. So, get out, please.” 

That got a laugh out of Ohya. “I know I can always count on you to bend a couple of rules for me.” 

“Out.” 

They left the building, Ohya waving her last goodbyes while Goro rushed to the car. He needed to get some light on these papers, it was long past sundown now. He slid himself into the car, clicked on one of the lights, and went to work reading, all while Ohya was still walking over. 

Ohya opened her door and stood outside watching him, leaning on the frame. First, it was with interest, but it soon turned into irritation.

“Kid, tell me what you’re looking for. You’ve got your eyeballs all over that thing,” she said. 

He didn’t let their conversation stop him from reading. He kept his eyes glued to the page, checking each word and box before moving on. 

He did owe her an explanation. Getting his thoughts out would help him focus a bit, anyway. 

“These sorts of things— storage units. Wouldn't they be paid for recurrently?” 

Ohya went quiet for a moment. “They are,” she said, and joined him in the car. “Shit. Those funds can’t be coming from you, can they.” 

“Exactly. I’m looking for the responsible billing party.” He turned onto the next page. None of the handwriting matched what he’d seen on his papers and files, which further confirmed to him that this unit hadn’t been one he’d purchased himself. Whoever this was had put all that information in there, those cases, those letters. He suspected they weren’t his mystery recipient, but he could confirm that with them once they’d met.

Why this had been done in his name, though, was beyond him. 

He flipped onto the last page, and found his prize. Big black bolded letters asking for the responsible parties name, and neat penmanship filling in the blank. 

“Sae Niijima,” he read aloud. 

Ohya gawked. 

“‘Sae Niijima?’ Seriously?” she scoffed to herself, and sunk down further in her seat. “She’s an attorney. A damn good one, too.” 

An attorney? He wondered how she could’ve known him. “She’s the one paying, apparently.” 

Ohya tapped long slender fingers onto her steering wheel again. She dropped her head. “Guess that means she’s our next lead, huh?” 

Goro adjusted himself in his seat. “It does.” 

“Ahh, man,” she complained. “You’re really somebody who’s in with the big guns, you know. You better let me have some exclusive with you after all this is done, or something.” 

Goro gave way a hint of a smile. Probably his first since he’d woken up. If this would be the last of his luck, so be it. He hated to rely on something so shifty and mischievous, anyways. This was a start, barely a sprout, to whatever his big picture was. But he’d see himself to the very top. 

Really, he’d already died once. Hardly a way to go but up. 

“We’ll see.” 

#thank u for the aaaask!!! #this is shuake but akira is actually not in it at all whatsoever #also im so sorry i know the ending is. unsatisfying. #i just realized if i wanted the most satisfying ending possible this would go from 8k to like 32k at least #maybe once i post all these prompts on ao3 ill consider adding chapters to this cause i do like the premise #this is also like. my first published non comedic piece. so a lot of this is experimental for myself #anyway i hope you enjoy!!! #my fics #ask #anonymous #my p5 fics

[bakugoubabygirl]

All might daughter

Part five

Bakugou POV

I was out for a walk . I couldn't sleep after she ran out like that today. I wish she would just fucking tell me what's going on. I was heading towards the bridge when I see a h/c girl standing there .

Then I recognize who it was as I got closer. It was Y/n. I told there for minute to see what she was doing. She taped a piece of paper on the ground. The step on to the ledge.

My heart felt like it dropped. I ran towards her. She jumped but I caught her wrist just in time . I pulled her up. Her eyes were red shot. I had no words for her . Who does she think she is trying to leave me.

" Why did you save me, I wanted to go" her voice was trembling.

" Why, what's so bad you had to take the coward way out" I swore.

" You don't understand. I was made to destroy. Earlier when my powers went crazy, I heard voices.

They told me to kill you. I'm not safe to be around. I have to destroy myself before I destroy others" she cried. Her eyelashes were collecting tears.

" Y/n listen to me. You have a good heart and whatever your fighting against. I will help you fight, I'm your team mate . Your not going to give up though. Your not a monster and those voices I'll kick there asses and chase them away." I sigh

" I don't want to turn into my parents" she whimper. " I see my mom every night, she haunts my dreams. Now a new voice has found me in the day"

" I won't let that happen" I pulled her into a hug. She the first person I let hug me . Besides my parents when I was little . I hated it then too. Holding her close like this made me feel shit.

We stood there for awhile and then she picked up her note. Crumble it up and threw it in the river.

" let me walk you home" I took her hand

" I spent the night at Izuku" she yawned . That didn't set well with me. Wether she saw him like a brother or not.

" let me see your phone" she handed me her phone. Her eyes were still blood shot. I texted deku.

Y/n: Hey deku this is Bakugou. Y/n staying at my place so don't worry

      " Come on I'm not letting you out of my sit, after what just happen" I said . She so stupid, did she think no one would care.  I Fucking care.

 

      " I'm sorry" she whispered.

 

     I took her upstairs. Kiri was pass out on my couch. There both fucking idiots. 

    " look Ill sleep on the floor" she said.

    " I'm not going to make you sleep on the fucking floor. Sleep in my bed, just keep to your side." I whisper. I didn't want to wake shitty hair up.

     I lay on the right side And she laid on the other. There was only one blanket unfortunately. So we had to share.  She was asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow.

    I still couldn't sleep. I almost lost this idiot today. The world almost lost a hero. She was pretty good not as good at me but still .

 

     She needs to stop obsessing over her past. That what will get her in the end . She pro hero material and she needs to focus on that. Icyhot  and deku are just destructing her. She don't have time for all these extras.

   

      I woke up first to see out legs somehow got tangled. I was holding her against me . I hurried and pushed her away and untangle our legs. Her and shittyhair were still sleeping . I look at the time . Shit, were going to be late for school.

  

      ______________________________

                                         Your POV 🌺

   

      I woke up to Bakugou screaming in my face. That were going to be late. I got up and then realize my uniform is at Izuku.

       " Here, we leave a bag of clothes here. Lots of times we pass out in his couch. Mina might have a uniform in there" kiri toss over to me.

     That's so cute that they spend the night with Bakugou that often.  I found a skirt but I didn't know who shirt was who.

    " Here," Bakugou thorough me one from his closet. It wasn't necessary I could of wore one from the bag. This was no time to argue though.

  " Guys turn around so I can change" I said . Bakugou huffed about it but they both turn. Keeping my eyes on them. I change into the uniform.

      We were twenty minutes late, waking into class. Everyone was looking at us . My face was red I want to my chair. I try not to look at Eraser head.

    " Why are you guys walking in my class late" Eraser head glare at us .

  

      " We over slept" kiri spoked up

       " Well get your notes off someone near you. I don't want this happening again." He said .

    " Yes sir" I replied while taking notes from Izuku hands. He gave me a worry look . " I tell you later" I mouth. Lunch time came when todoroki came up to me .

“ Eat with me” he said. Taking my arm. I didn’t have much of a choice. I also haven’t talk to him in a couple days .

__________________________________

Todoroki POV❤️🤍

This morning when Y/n walk in with Bakugou made me so mad. She wearing his shirt even. She fucking spent the night with him. I attend to figure out what happen.

I sat down at a empty table . I usually eat by myself . I don’t really like taking to other people .

Y/n is different I could talk to her all day. I don’t understand why. Maybe because she different then the others. Her head is screw on right.

“ So what’s up todo” she said

“ Why did you spend the night at Bakugou” I thought I would cut to the chase.

“ I was originally spending the night at Izuku. He like my best friend . I couldn’t sleep so I went for a walk. I had a mental break down. I try to something stupid and Bakugou saw me. He caught me in time . He took me back to his house, and we slept” she explained.

What does she mean something stupid. Is she closed to Izuku because of all might . Did Bakugou try anything ? questions race through my mind. I looked around to see Bakugou shooting dagger at me with his eyes.

“ what do you mean something stupid” I pressed

“ Listen how about I tell you about it when we’re alone” she whisper. Her eyes seem to sadden.

After lunch I was stopped by Bakugou in the hall way. He seem like he was livid .

“ Hey Icyhot , what are you doing with Y/n” he yelled.

“ Am I not allowed to talk to her” I asked . I try to keep a straight face.

“ No she my team mate not yours. mine” he fumed

“ She not property and she can have friends . It’s not like your her boyfriend” I try walking away but he step in my way.

“ For now, you weren’t there last night. You don’t know how much she has on her mind . Leave her alone. She needs to focus on the sport festival that’s coming up .” He seem to lower his voice . What did happen last night.

“ Bakugou what happen. I asked her and she said that you just stopped her from doing something stupid. what was it.” I didn’t mean to pry . I just feel like I needed to know. I care about her.

“ I can’t tell you, just stop talking to her” he scoffed.

“ I won’t and what you said about for now. That’s how I feel to. I don’t give up though” I pushed past him.

I couldn’t get to the door way . A bunch of students from the other class was blocking it.

“ What are they doing Here” y/n asked.

“ Scooping out the competition . At least they know what a pro hero looks like now . move out of my ways extras” he growled.

“ I can’t wait to kick there ass”

“ put them in there place” the students started yelling at Bakugou comment . They all hate us now.

“ Hey isn’t that girl the daughter of all might” one shouted

“ there a rumor that her real parents are the worst villains over” someone whisper

“ What a freak” someone else said.

I could tell that Y/n heard it also. Her face show no emotion now. Except for the tears that were trying to escape.

The purple hair kid who was arguing with Bakugou. Turnt to his classmate who made the comment .

“ That was unnecessary. Let’s go Now” he said . The first bell rang and everyone took there seat at there desk.

After class was over . I waited for Y/n she was walking out with Bakugou .

“ Y/n , do you want to hang out” I asked. Bakugou looked pissed.

“ Yeah sure, we can go over to my house. We can Watch movies if you want” she smiled .

“ yeah that’s sounds fun” I said

“ we can walk , my dads been busy here lately. So he can’t really pick me up now. Which I’m glad because I needed some breathing room.” She started to carry on. It was kind of cute.

“ I thought we were going hang out” Bakugou clear his throat.

“ We hung out yesterday. I have other friends” She laugh. She was oblivious to Bakugou feelings . I can’t imagine Bakugou being any good with words though.

“ Whatever Stay up to fucking late, were training at the ass crack of dawn” he stormed off.

We walked to her house. She was beautiful and the way her hand felt in my mind , was nice. I think after the sports festival I’m going ask her out.

“We’re here” she smiled . Opening the door her dad was in the living room.

“ Hey, me and todoroki are going to my room to watch scary movie” she said.

“ Door open, have fun you two” he smiled . This was awkward . I don’t want to do anything that will upset all might . I respect him more then I respect my dad.

Her room was large and organized. She had paintings on her wall. They were actually amazing. Then I see two others that caught my attention. They were dark and twisted.

“ Your paintings are beautiful” I said

“ Bakugou said they were alright “ she joked . Wait why was he in her room.

“ Bakugou was in your room” I pressed

“Yeah he comes over and we train” she said oblivious to my feelings about it.

“‘Oh well can I train with you guys tomorrow” I asked. I don’t want Bakugou to be alone with her.

“ yeah sure” she said . She hold up two different scary movies. I told her it doesn’t matter to me .

She plopped on her bed.

“ hey come sit down” she said patting the empty spot next her. I sat next to her on her bed. She pulled a blanket over us and lay her head on me. We must of fell asleep like that.

_______________________________

Y/n POV 🌺

I woke to find todoroki sleeping on me. His head was on my chest and his arms were wrapped around me. I look at the door way to see a piss of Bakugou standing there.

“ Your father let me up here. You didn’t show up to train dumb ass . I was fucking worried. While your dumb ass sucking face” he screamed. Todo woke up and realize what’s going on. He sat up .

“ Its not what it’s looks like. We fell asleep during the movie and woke up like this. What’s it matter anyways. I’m sorry I miss training” I explain

“ Be sorry all you want . I’m going to work your sorry ass hard tommorw to make up for today training.” He growled “ now get ready for fucking school”

“ Get the fuck out so I can change then” I yelled . I look at todoroki who was standing there awkwardly.

“ I’m sorry for him” I apologized.

“ it’s fine I’m going to get out so you can change” he said .

___________________________________

Bakugou POV🥺❤️

Me and icy hot stood in the hall way. Who does he think he is. She mine not his. I will beat him, I’m better then him on every way.

I’ll ask her out and when she says yes . He will have no choice to back out . Yes after I win the festival. I will ask her our in front of everyone. She will have no choice but to say yes . That will ducking show him.

“ Okay lets go “ she said coming out of her room. “ Also here your hoodie I forgot to give back” she handed it to me .

“ it’s yours now . I told you I don’t fucking want it” I threw it back at her. She rolled her eyes at me and tie the hoodie around her waist . It made me kind of happy that she was going to have it on her all day .

Class was shit all day. After school I met her in the hallway . “ hey let’s go we’re going to train to make up for this morning” I said .

“ fine let me say goodbye to Izuku and todo” she said. She got a nick name for him now too .

We went to her house and we trained for hours and hours . It was ten a clock at night, when I decided she was done. I could of went all night .

“ Bakugou, good luck tommorw” She said .

Our faces were so close. I could kiss her right now but no I think I’ll wait until after I win tommorw.

“ Whatever dummy I don’t need luck”

As soon as I turn around to walk away. I smiled like a dumbass.

#jelouse katsuki #bnha shoto todoroki #katsuki #anime #wattpad #reader insert #prompts #my hero academia #my fic #imagine your otp #bakugou smut #bakugou angst #bakugou x reader #todoroki x y/n #todoroki x reader #midoriya izuku #bakugou x kirishima

[ditch-witches]

Insufferable (i) - George MacKay x reader

(PART 2) (PART 3) (PART 4)

requested: yes/no (im so sorry this took so long holy scheisse, there are so many parts too)

Thank you so much to our first Instagram request! @/okay.l0z I had a lot of fun with this and had to channel Ryan and Hannah's angst to help me.

"Hi! I've been reading your fics and I love them so much bc there's hardly any around. I was wondering if you take insta requests and if so can you do one with George and the reader are like enemies to loves and they have really cute moments but then end up fighting all the time and then it escalates and they end up having sEx and then get together or something bc I will THRIVE IF YOU DO!" ... "Is it bad if I want it long ass?"

also I thought about this like,,, a lot,,,

pairing: George MacKay x reader

warnings: slow-burn introduction bAsIcalLy, I think there are swear words?

word count: 2,629

a/n: There are several things to be addressed...

accuracy to George's life is like 0/100 - scratch that, they have the same hair color

think of this as an AU because idk how else to explain it

it's a slow burn. if you need something that isn't, check the next imagine over and give it a reblog.

You put your chin in your hand and furrowed your brows as you listened to the actors in front of you. The bright stage lights kept you at a suffocatingly hot temperature, but at this point, you didn't mind. What your main concern for the scene was simple: your leading actor was George MacKay. You had spent constant, stressful hours trying to convince the director of the show that he was not the choice, yet when it came down to it, what he said went, and you had to deal with the cleaning up. Today was not like any other. An almost two-hour practice, script work, lighting, etc, were all thrown at the actors still attempting to memorize their lines.

But it was this part, in particular, that was becoming the most difficult. Maybe it was because you were the ghostwriter of the script and the director was trampling on all of your ideas and dreams with a man that you could one-hundred-percent deem an enemy. Your lead character, Charlie, had a soft side to him, despite having an overpowering sense of the dangers of the world and a body to match. George wasn't Charlie. George was one of the lost boys from Peter Pan and that's all you could see him as. He needed to grow up and be a pirate with only two motives: breaking the chains of the dystopian government regime keeping him away from his wife and captaining the deadly sea creature infested waters and getting back to his wife in one piece.

But George's motives seemed to be entirely set on getting into his co-star's pants.

His cocky attitude and facade of charm made you want to rip your hair out. Sure, he took his job seriously and had several esteemed colleagues of yours raving about him, but this role wasn't his. It didn't help that you knew him from primary school, of all places, and once he found out, that's all he could bring up around you.

George rolled his sleeves and dragged a hand through his thick, red hair, the veins in his arm becoming rather predominant as he did so. He was damn near playing footsie with the girl in front of him; their flirty gazes bouncing from each other to the crumpled scripts in their hands. You rolled your eyes, feeling as if your team could see the steam rolling off your shoulders. The director was doing nothing, merely smiling giddily at the two tearing the scene to shreds. "Stop," you took the reins, standing up from your position on stage and tossing your script down. You stepped over to the two and the director didn't move an inch. "What are you doing?" You nipped, crossing your arms and stepping between George and his co-star.

He towered over you by miles; you weren't sure if this made him feel the superiority he exuded, but you always made sure to square your shoulders when you talked to him. "What do you mean? We're practicing," he slyly stated, sending a wink over your head to the girl.

You took the script from his hands, flipping a few pages to the scene they were supposed to be working on. He smirked down at you, shifting his weight from one foot to the other as he watched you scan the page. His script was well-loved and worn as if it had been in his back pocket repeatedly, flipped through, folded, torn and taped, highlighted and annotated. You tried not to blush at the notes he had taken as if he had actually cared about his role. Notes such as movements and relative emotions were noted as if they were suggestions. You wet your lips, feeling George's easy-going gaze on you the whole time. "... Charlie, we have to get out of here..." You began, your eyes meeting his deep blue ones.

His face fell into a stern expression, his arms crossing heavily with a furrowed brow. "We've only just got here. I'm shipping out tomorrow. There's no way the Republic-" His Scottish accent was surprisingly thick and consistent. He was settling into Charlie.

"I don't care anymore. I'm tired of sitting idly by and watching you throw yourself away for a debt your brother can't repay." You swore you saw an actual feeling of hurt flash behind his eyes.

He chewed the inside of his cheek. "That debt is just as much mine as it is his. You're asking me to uproot and leave him, you know? I can't leave him."

"You'll die. You'll end up like the rest of the mariners haunting their wives for the rest of eternity. You're a slave." George took a few steps to stand in front of you, he was close enough that you could smell his cologne now: a sweet mix of sandalwood with hints of lavender. He smelled like a summer day spent at a cabin in the middle of a meadow. You hated it, but you wanted to bury yourself in his chest and bask in his scent for the remainder of your days.

He rested a hand on your neck, angling your face towards him as he whispered, "Look at me..." You attempted to ignore the beating of your heart in your ears and the sweat that began to spread across your back. "I'm free. I'm choosing this debt because, without it, he would die. He's the last piece of my father I have left."

You reached for his hand, covering it with your own. "What about me, Charlie? I'm here now. I'm flesh and blood in front of you. What about our child?"

"He'll be here when I get back." He pushed away from you, turning his back on you and settling his hands on his hips. "I'm not changing my mind." He looked over his shoulder at you. "Eden, I have to do this." You closed the script with a raised eyebrow, hiding how impressed you were that he actually knew his lines. The emotion he was conveying was nothing like how he had previously let on. You walked towards him and he turned back around. You pressed the script back into his hands and gave him a small glare.

"Practice how you play. I'm done with wasting time," you said more to the group than just him. The rest of the cast members weren't as proficient in hiding their amusement back as you were. The last thing George needed was another inflate to his ego. You went back to your spot, grabbing your clipboard and flipping over a few pages. The group began to gather around you slightly. "I need Eden and Charlie in with wardrobe now, the rest of you keep practicing your lines. I'll want to hear dialogue from Dane and Jack tomorrow. Give me another forty or so minutes and we'll call it?" The director nodded from the first row of seats. The crowd dispersed but George swam against the current of thespians, approaching you again.

He gave you one of his charming smiles. Be professional, you thought. "I was just wondering how that sounded to you?"

You thought for a moment, drawing the clipboard to your chest. "Yeah, it was good. Your accent's a bit dodgy, but the emotion is good. Why don't we see that during actual rehearsals?" You tilted your head at him and he looked at his shoes slightly, tucking his hands in the pockets of his jeans. Was he pretending to be humble?

"I don't know. I guess I like you more as Eden," he jeered, causing you to roll your eyes and he smiled wider.

"You're insufferable," you muttered, walking past him.

He chuckled. "Don't worry, I'll grow on you."

You scoffed slightly. "Go get fitted for suspenders and leave me alone, MacKay."

The next few days were full of constant rehearsals both in costume and script memorization. You had to admit that for some reason this show had you wrapped in a bundle of tension and anxiety. George slowly tore away at your nerves, becoming his own mess of anger and frustration as he picked up more and more on the fact that you weren't going to take his shit. You were serious about this job and you were serious about this play. His humor had diminished as it had gotten closer and closer to opening night and you weren't surprised when he would snap back at you for making an adjustment to his tone or a note on the delivery of a line.

"Stop being such a bitch!" He groaned, tugging at his hair as you crossed your arms.

"Calm down, primadonna! All I'm saying is quit pacing! Charlie isn't pacing! Where in the script does it say he's pacing-"

"THAT'S RIDICULOUS. IT DOESN'T MATTER." He moved to stand in front of you, his teeth gritting slightly. This was what your discussion had grown into, one hissy fit flaring up the other.

"FUCK, YOU'RE RIGHT. I TOTALLY FORGOT YOU WERE THE ONE IN CHARGE, MR. MACKAY. SHOULD I JUST SUCK YOUR DICK RIGHT NOW SINCE WE'RE ALREADY ADDING IN UNNECESSARY ACTION," you would bite back causing him to glare up at the ceiling with his jaw clenching in a sarcastic smile. He wore your patience thinner than tulle. And you were hoping to be doing the same to him.

On the eve of opening night, a storm broke out over the city. You hadn't received word from your ride at all---a man you had been seeing on and off for a while, but still managed to keep him at enough distance that the two of you weren't official. You glared at your watch, deciding to say fuck it and just walk the five or so miles it was to your apartment. Your rain jacket was already soaked, your umbrella proving to be no help whatsoever. But you persevered knowing full-well that if your character, Eden, were in the situation, she wouldn't have batted an eye before dropping him and his lack of communication. As the water soaked into your boots and chilled you rather quickly, you bit your tongue, regretting not waiting for the bus. Cars past you at rushed paces, wanting to get home to their loved ones if the rain worsened---you figured.

Your heart began to pound as a car pulled up beside you, causing you to wrap your hand around the bottle of mace in your coat pocket. The window rolled down, but you kept walking. "Do you need a ride?" Hollered an almost too familiar voice.

You crossed your arms and continued to walk. "No!" You called back.

The car rolled forward and you heard the driver door open. George stepped out slightly, drawing his jacket up to fight against the biting wind. "Come on! Look at this weather!"

"I'm good! Go home, George!"

He tilted his head at you with a deadpan expression. "Don't make me throw you over my shoulder." You furrowed your brows and rolled your eyes, sliding into the passenger seat of his car and taking down your hood. George watched as you did this. He slipped off his jacket. "Here." He pulled his hoodie over his head. "Take your shirt off. You'll get hypothermia."

"Excuse me?" You nipped.

It was his turn to roll his eyes. "I won't look. You're soaked. Take my damn hoodie." You looked out the front window and then let out a huff. You peeled off your upper layer, no longer giving a fuck if George saw you in your bra. You looked over to him while he leaned his arm against his door, his cheek resting against his fist as he held his hoodie out to you. You pulled the garment over your head and couldn't help but snuggle into it. It was oversized and warm, smelling just like George. Your cold skin seemed to sigh against the soft material and you felt tears prickling at the corners of your eyes at how content you were. George put the car into drive after he had made sure you were taken care of. You slipped your hands into the long sleeves and fought not to dig your nose into the neckline to breathe him in. His scent was like kryptonite to you and you hated it. "Are you hungry?" He asked, looking at you briefly and flipping the heat more to your side. He smiled almost proudly to himself at the sight of you enjoying his hoodie and the safety of his car.

You quickly braided your hair, attempting to combat the wet feeling of it against your neck. "No, I'm fine thanks."

"Come on. My treat? I've been a dick to you all week."

"Fine..." You mumbled. He found a nook of a restaurant jabbed into a part of London you had yet to explore. The rain had finally let up to a drizzle as the two of you made your way inside the softly lit eatery. The two of you tucked into a booth and ordered almost instantly, you now realizing just how hungry you actually were. "What were you doing in that part of town so late?" You finally asked after they brought out a hot tea for him and topped off your coffee. His large hands cradled the steaming mug in front of him, his nose slightly red from the chilly weather outside.

He chuckled slightly. "I forgot my script in the theatre and---for some reason---couldn't stop thinking about it." You nodded hesitantly. "Why were you walking home?"

You shrugged nonchalantly. "Such beautiful weather we're having. Thought I would take an evening stroll," you joked, causing him to chuckle lightly. George's face seemed to glow slightly under the cozy lights of the restaurant, his hair slightly disheveled and damp from the rain. You now got a full sight of the t-shirt he was wearing that commemorated a football team from the graduating year ahead of yours.

There was a beat of silence between you two. "Why..." George tugged his bottom lip between his teeth, attempting to find the right words. You furrowed your brows. "Why do you hate me so much?" If you weren't looking at him, you would have sworn he was smiling behind his question.

"Seriously?"

He nodded. "Seriously."

"You dated my best friend, Sophie, and broke her heart," you answered bluntly.

George sent you a puzzled expression for half a second before grinning slightly. "Yeah, but I was ten."

"Yeah, but now she's twenty-one and we still talk about it," you quipped, taking a sip of your coffee.

He exhaled. "I was... I was ten..." He furrowed his brows. "She was pretty. Hasn't some other guy broken up with her since me?"

You shrugged again. "No, she has this mindset where if she starts getting the feeling that things aren't working, she cuts out."

"She's been dwelling over me for how many years?" He couldn't fight the grin threatening to creep across his face.

You bit the inside of your cheek in thought. "I guess that would be twelve years." He whistled. "We're good at keeping grudges."

"Well, if I ever run into her, I'll apologize." He added a lump of sugar to his tea. "Is that the only reason?"

You debated ripping him a new one, but the tiredness you felt reflected in his eyes. "It's the kick-off point. Why? Do you wanna be buddies now?" You joked, sticking your spoon in your mouth.

He rested his hand in his chin. "Nah," he pursed his lips in thought. You furrowed your eyebrows at his answer, letting a titter escape your lips. "You're too young for me." You laughed a bit harder.

"Age is just a number, baby," you hummed and he smirked at you, a sparkle in his eye.

Comment if you would like to be tagged in the next part! Let us know what you think!

#george mackay #george mackay x reader #george mackay imagines #george #1917 imagines #1917 #imagine #reader insert #george mackay angst #angst #fluff #rain