#I think abt this fic from time to time but I can’t remember the name I’ll have to go through the tag

[shadowvestal]

Warpaint

[leclsrc]

decent incentives ✴︎ cl16, mv1

genre: this is. Smut, porn W plot, threesome, driver reader

word count: 6.9k

Max can’t even feel his feet on the hardwood floors because you’re on your bed, spread out, wearing one of Charles’ sweaters, two fingers at the apex of your thighs. Or: You’ve been a brat, and only two people know how to mellow you out. title from this

auds here… hi hi hi! scanned my reqs last week, found a max/charles threesome one, and wrote this out in half a day after a friend showed me the challengers trailer (i love tennis and it drove me to write abt a sport that was not, in fact, tennis) also i truly cannot explain the phenomenon behind me finding smut/these kinds of works easier to suss out these days (long form fic i talked abt in the last drabble is not this one fyi) but it’s just ???? like i don’t… i’ve no clue. i hope u enjoy this anyway!!!! love auds :)

nsfw warnings under the cut!

18+ because... penetrative sex, double penetration, sexual tension, masturbation (f), teasing, praise central, reader is a MASSIVE brat, size kink, dirty talk, i don’t want to say brat taming but kinda kinda

Your first time in Max Verstappen’s hotel room happened after a tiring night of media and press, where you spent hours together smoking to calm yourselves down. You’d almost been caught by a manager, stepping on your sticks as soon as the back door swung open and your names were called out to do another interview. This was with ESPN, if you remember right. There’d been a muddled chaos of journalism in the venue, all the jumbled mess of the same questions. As young as you both are, do you feel intimidated by success?

It didn’t—and still doesn’t—help, you suppose, that both you and Max had stared, tight-lipped and deflated brows, and stated, with finality: no.

The afternoon stretched into an entire night, and by the time the clock ticked nine and everything had formally wrapped up, Max mustered up the courage and a half it took to invite you to his hotel room for a cig and half a Cuervo divided into three shots each. The conversation had progressed as he drove, the continuation of an otherwise unorthodox friendship between a Red Bull and Mercedes driver—a fact you’d both acknowledged but opted to ignore.

Drivers are friends all the time, you figure—you’re close with few drivers—but none of them are Max. You had made the lousy small talk, commented on how different the pre- and post-race processes have become since your entrance in 2018, which, back then, had seemed like forever ago. “It would seem like forever to a world champion,” he’d said, and his voice is all teasing and raspy and scruffed up. You had laughed, a scoffy little noise, and told him to shut up.

He obeyed, for two seconds, then added, “Do you mind if we meet someone there?”

The hotel room was what you might expect a high-level athlete to be bestowed with, wide and huge but not as wide and not as huge as yours a few streets over. There’d been a thing of cologne left uncapped on the table by the door, Adidas shoes on the floor next to Nikes, and then a low table housing a still smoking joint that left the entire living room smelling like grass.

Somehow, Max had managed to turn a neutral, sterile hotel room into a boy’s room. The scent of weed mixed with Tom Ford cologne. The rap music blending into the open balcony’s traffic noise. The socks on the floor, two pairs, both white. It’s a strenuous effort, you’d thought—and you were beginning to think this wasn’t the work of Max alone. “We have a guest,” he’d hollered when he managed to fiddle with the key card properly enough to leave the door alone.

No one had answered, or surfaced from the hallway leading to the bedroom and bathroom, so you followed Max into the bar area. Bottles of booze in varying states of empty, lemon slices and salt now cold—“Do you not call housekeeping?” You’d asked, amusement concealing curiosity as you accepted a poured-out shot. He said they do—they—and sometimes hotel staff are just a bunch of pricks. He asked more questions. How it felt to win at twenty-one, how it felt to be driving, to be the youngest winner, the first female driver. 

Ask me something I don’t hear fucking journalists say all the time, you’d replied back, half-jokingly. The August air nipped at your cheeks, chilling your warm face. He’d laughed, and explained that he re-asked the questions in case you have a more honest answer to give him. The most honesty you could offer is that you’d grown to hate your reputation because it precedes your skill. It’d been silent for a bit then, just the scent of the unclaimed weed. Then Max went, We have a new friend.

You turned to see who he was talking to. Charles was at the doorway, eyes on you already, raising a hand to say a silent hello. “H…” He trailed off. “Hey.”

He was shirtless, Calvins tight on his legs, his free hand scratching absently at his abs. Behind you, you had faintly picked up on Max introducing you and Charles rolled his eyes before replying, clipped, I know who she is, wiseass. He’d taken the weed and almost left, but you spoke next.

“Want to come sit?”

He paused, turned, and blinked. “I’m alright,” he rejected. “We have a meeting tomorrow, don’t forget.”

Then he was back in the bedroom area, leaving behind him a trail of grassy smoke. He was clearly rugged and fresh from sleep, the delicious sleep athletes have all grown familiar with: post-race, overcome with a terrible exhaustion. You’d only ever exchanged a few words with either of these two, and the fact that you were alone with them sent a warm, drawling thrill up your spine.

You were two and a half shots in when Charles reappeared, sans weed. “Any left for me?”

—

If you grouped the grid into years, you would be with Max and Charles—on the younger end, still at the ripe years of your careers. You entered first, though, then Max, thenCharles, which meant you were connected to, and friends with, relatively different people on the paddock. But the 2020 season and your many close calls with Max began the media and manager tirade of constantly lumping you and Max into the same interviews, press conferences, and media days, to maybe somehow elicit a bit of drama out (a tireless and unrelenting effort).

That’s how the rumors started. The rumor that permeates you most is one that asks about you, Max, and Charles. Some say you dated one then the other (a homie hopper, they’d branded you in 2021), others say they dated each other and you butted in. All of them were woefully untrue, in the same way all had some ring of truth to them.

And you suppose that’s what hotwired the beginning of your nights spent at Max’s hotel room, where Charles would nearly always be camped out, then eventually vice versa (Charles’ room, Max camping out; your room, solo, housing them for one night), drinking and/or smoking and/or playing some form of cards. And you suppose again that it was all this that radiated into everything else, all your wins and successes and bad days and near crashes, that just caused the entire universe to topple over, into itself, and creep up onto the three of you in Bahrain that year.

But that year is three years ago, and if you try to detail every last divot of it, you’re going to wind up rubbing a migraine out of your head. And you’re not interested in developing a headache—not when you’re celebrating the fifth race of the 2023 season.

It’s your fourth win this season. It’s all anybody ever talks about, how you had gone and secured a third championship for yourself last year, and how you’re gunning for four, the greatest the sport has seen in years. It’s all anyone can repeat and echo—you’re a fucking legend!—and you know from experience that praise does more than the most dangerous cocktail of drugs to get you high.

The afterparty is full and obnoxiously loud, dark and smoky and low-visibility. You’re wearing a flimsy dress and running a hand through your hair while you nurse a drink, feeling drunk on compliments and confused with certain absences. You can feel the bass through the tiled floor, heels clicking on it as you search, search, and come up short. Neither Max nor Charles have sent you a text, a play they always perform to break a routine you’ve become familiar with. You frown. Hey, somebody says next to you, you’re better than anyone else on the grid right now! You thank them, thinking to yourself—where the fuck is anyone else on the grid anyway? The relevant people, at least?

Half an hour later, you’ve ditched the party and are pounding with your fists at Max’s hotel room door in an effort to get them to open it quicker, after your knuckles didn’t seem to do the work well enough. You half—no, mostly—expect Charles to be the one who pulls it open. He’s more prudent. He gives in easier. He’s nicer and he can spare a thought for the other people on this floor (but the price of this room means there barely are). 

“What.” His voice is gritty.

“You told me you would come tonight.” Your voice is steady—you’d chosen not to drink much, and what little you consumed wore off on the ride here. Even with your heels on and even in sleepiness, you notice his presence towers over yours. “You both said.”

“We were tired.”

You scoff and gently push past him into the room, where evidence of their existence rags the furniture. “Every hotel room you ever stay in is turned into a fucking frat house.” Beer bottles, cigs, gifts from fans stored with precarious care but peeking out from suitcases. 

“We were sleeping. I am sleepy,” he says behind you, unamused by your sudden appearance. He shuts the door and stands still, looking as disappointed as he can. It’s unlike him. You’re buying time to find out what the problem is.

“Okay, I’ll go,” you say, relenting, running a few fingers over the mess of clothes strewn atop the armrest of the couch. “My driver’s downstairs, anyway. I wanted you there tonight, though.” You look up, meet his eyes. Tired and green and fed up. “Both of you. We could’ve celebrated.”

He pulls his lips tight and stands straighter. “I know, I know.” He softens a little. “I’m sorry, okay? Desolé. Just… tired.” You know he’s tired because his team is shit, and you know it has nothing to do with you, but you’re so wrapped up with everything that your irritance fails to quell.

“Where’s Max?” You ask roughly instead, thumbing at the strap of your minidress. He gestures to the bedroom. You’re quiet but stormy when you walk in, finding him, messy hair and tired eyes notwithstanding, fully awake, unlike what his roomie has been telling you since you arrived; you scoff out loud again. Des-fucking-picable. You sit yourself on the couch, crossing your legs petulantly.

They both stare. They’re mad, it occurs to you, which is weird because they had you in between them on that same bed less than forty-eight hours ago. You’d come thrice and begged for more, but they laughed and said you all needed sleep to get up for race prep. Race prep. Race prep.

“Okay, then.” You throw two hands up in a semi-shrug. “Let’s have it. What’s the matter? No use lying.”

They both look irritated. “Nothing,” Max says.

“Fuck nothing.” You trail a hand over the hem of your dress. “You’re pissed with me, but I didn’t do shit.” You try to rerack the race, but you hadn’t so much as collided with them in the slightest, apart from overtaking them a few times, but they weren’t man children to whine over that. You’d shared the podium with Charles, for Chrissake.

“You’re right. You just went and…” Charles blows a raspberry and makes an explosion gesture, opening his clenched fist. “Shat on us in your post-race interview.”

And there it is.

You huff out a laugh, momentarily losing control over speech, and it’s caught in between itself and a sigh, a breathy noise that makes waves in the quiet room. Okay, you think. I get it. Your eyes flit in-between the two men across you, your shoulders straight and eyebrows raised, posing a challenge. “What, are you jealous?”

They’re silent. And you know silence always means—

Your eyes relax, smug and a little teasing as you elaborate. “Because you know I’m better than both of you?”

—Yes.

Their silence is redeeming and rewarding and permissive and it speaks volumes louder than if they’d actually admitted to it. You stare back at them, eyes narrowed, amused, coy. You’d been joking around in your Sky Sports interview. Sure, you’re a bit of a tease, especially on the high of a win. But they should know that by now.

You know it annoys them more to leave the door wide open as you leave, than to slam it closed.

—

“Will you draw me a tattoo?!”

“I’d love to, but you are going to regret it,” Charles laughs, signing his name off with a heart on the frenzied fan’s outstretched cap. The busy, busy practice day had now worn into night, though nothing seems to be taking his mind off the fact that you’ve been giving him and Max the cold shoulder since last week. And he knows it’s stupid, he knows he and Max were being irrational and pissy—him especially—but now he just finds himself needing to apologize before anything becomes worse.

But his priority is getting to your hotel, which now seems like the journey of his lifetime. His bodyguard is a bulldozer and grips his elbow to traverse them through the sea of people who cheer him on, go Charles have faith in Ferrari and yeah, that’s been getting more and more difficult as the races pass without much good progress. There are flashes all around, noise and laughing and whoops and gifts he tries to receive, but he just—he needs to get to your hotel. Preoccupied, he remembers where he’d seen Max last, just seconds before leaving the paddock for the evening.

You spend a lot of time with a certain pair Ferrari and Mercedes drivers, says the interviewer in Dutch. Charles squints at the subtitles and waits for Max’s reaction.

He’s in the passenger seat, being driven around for a change, and maybe he’s a pessimist and he misses you and Max, or maybe the city he’s in is just. Dreary, so he opts to stare at his phone like every other person. The clip’s been posted by a fan on Twitter, and the caption is something jokey—something about a dream threesome. He can’t help but laugh as he watches. We are close, us three, Max says, nodding. In fact I will be meeting them later.

The media’s always speculated, rumors born out of a few close calls outside clubs where you’re tipsy and giggly and getting into one car. The fans, funny as ever, also make some fun of it—posting pictures of you three captioned with something like polyamory is real or her and the guys she told you not to worry about, but God if any of them knew the real picture, the whole three years of it, all the sex and hickeys and rumors.

He scrolls a bit more. There are a few photos of you leaving the paddock, hand poised atop your face to shield it from the paps. You get loads more of them wherever you are, loads morecompared to anybody else on the grid. You always attract the media, the press. He finds a picture with your face in it, smiling at your result during FP2. Fuck. You’re pretty, hair damp with sweat, lips stretched into a proud grin, suited hand raising a thumbs up.

“Where to?” The driver beside him asks suddenly.

—

“Fairmont,” Max says to his assistant as he pulls out of parking. “I’m hanging up, doei.” He presses the red button and sighs, shutting his eyes and driving the steady, increasingly familiar routes of the city. He’d called you this morning but you didn’t pick up. Last night he’d slept restlessly, which was no different from the nights before, anyway.

He gets to the valet parking of your hotel when purple is just settling into blackness in the sky, the beginnings of a civil discussion at the tip of his tongue as he exits the elevator and finds your room, opening it and finding it unlocked already. Charles must have done the brunt of it, or maybe you’d gotten an assistant of an assistant to pass an extra keycard to him. You always plan around them, thinking ahead. Both on and off track.

Like the hotel rooms he and Charles share or camp out at, your existence is terribly visible. Unlike them, though, it manifests differently.

It smells like your perfume, the pink bottle he’d found you spritzing on once, and everything is neat and tidy and gorgeous. A vase of white peonies on the low table, lipstick on the table by the mirror, even the pack of cigarettes you barely smoke is pretty and unassuming on the sofa. The only thing amiss—a pair of men’s shoes, those ones with stars on them that you bought Charles on a spur-of-the-moment shopping trip. He toes off his own beside them, eyes the alignment, and fixes it lest you scold them for it later.

Anyway. It smells like you. That’s the only thing he cares about right now. It hits him like a tidal wave, after being ignored the whole week and then some. Your perfume, your favorite linen spray—that black and white glass bottle you carry around like a rosary—your favorite lip balm, even. He swears he smells the vanilla, can recall the taste of it from kissing you ditzy.

It’s beginning to rain—it had been drizzling already, en route here—and the noise pelts the windows, an accompaniment to his footsteps down the hall. He’s familiar with the layout of a penthouse suite, but still he tries out the WC door, and then the closet with the ironing board, before finally he figures the bedroom should be at the end of the hall.

He’s reciting it. I’m sorry. Would you stop being a brat? No. No, just say you’re sorry and then he’s standing at the ajar door of your bedroom, pushing it open, and he can’t feel anything. The words have evaporated. So have his warm little sentimental feelings, and so the annoyance he’d come busting in with.

Max can’t even feel his feet on the hardwood floors because you’re on your bed, spread out, wearing one of Charles’ sweaters, two fingers at the apex of your thighs.

He opens his mouth but nothing leaves. His eyes find Charles, standing by the door, propped against the desk, arms crossed and fingers digging into his biceps. Max looks at you again. You have a pretty flush high on your cheeks, a slight sheen of sweat on your exposed collar. He blinks and realizes you’ve been talking.

“I said, you can sit the fuck down.” There’s a couch to his left.

He pulls himself together and stays beside Charles. “I’m good here, thanks.”

You eye the two of them. They look like stupid twins in the same way they look like Republican husbands. You roll your eyes and allow it; anyway, you’re not in the mood to order either of them around too much.

Charles has been watching you for a while now, watched you fake moans and exaggerate whines, feigning pleasure over two of your fingers. It’s almost laughable—he’d allowed a smile, in fact, because he knows better. Once, he’d pulled your hair so hard you teared up, nodding, hand at his wrist, whimpering more, harder, do it. Another time, he and Max had gotten you all riled up and edged for half an hour, so riled that all you could mutter out were please and their names when they finally stuffed you full. You’re evidently playing your games again. You love to play around with them. It’s almost—you could almost call it a hobby.

“I’m not going to stop just ‘cause you’re both here.” Your hand moves, two fingers fucking into yourself, pink lace pushed aside. Your cunt is so pretty, they’re both thinking. “Did you think I would?” When silence greets you, you decide to address them directly. “Max. Did you?”

His voice is thin and tight when he responds, “Yeah, actually—so we could suss this out, at least.”

Your laugh is patronizing. “I prefer it this way. And you know what?”

Max stares. Charles has already been told this, several minutes ago when he found you in the exact same position. It’s not any easier for him to hear it again, chaste and sweet out of your lips. You can’t touch me.

See, they would’ve been content without touching you, if they sit and think about it. Max didn’t walk in here thinking he’d even be kissing you, and he knows Charles thinks the same thing. Maybe touch you—innocently, that kind of way. Sure, they’d been pent up, heady with arousal, but that came second to talking things out. But now you’ve told them they can’t touch, and that’s worsened them to their limit. Charles imagines touching you, the same touch he gives when it’s post-race and he gets you alone, to himself, nobody else’s, quick fucks in a dim closet, whispering some dirty shit in your ear and getting you like putty in his hands.

Max thinks of nearly the same thing. Imagines running his hand over your hair, gentle but firm, the same way he does when he knocks at your hotel room after hours and gets you from high-strung and bratty to begging for more. You notice their eyes, darkened; you realize their minds have wandered. So, they watch hopelessly as the smirk spreads prettily across your flushed face, and they remember the events of a week prior, when childishly, they’d acted out, and think, for a second, that maybe they deserve this.

You all know what it’s like to keep them from touching you.

It was both easier and worse then, in 2020 when everything started—when everything was brand new and thrilling and exciting. Easier, because they were satisfied as soon as they got you to come, maybe kiss them both, and they were content with slow exploration. Worse, because you were all insatiable. It felt like none of you could go minutes without some form of touch, during, in-between, after practice, quali, fuck—it was worse, much worse.

As you all grew older and got accustomed to the drivel of racing, you all got better. It didn’t get much easier.

Charles recalls how insatiable he was—and thinks, with amusement almost, that if he was insatiable then, he’s worse now. Now he knows where, how, for how long to touch you to get you wide-eyed and warm in the face even in the most serious of moments. Max, too. He knows how you taste, bend, tease. They love touching you. Just skin to skin. And you’ve gone and put a great big X mark over that.

“So,” Max says, voice flat, the way it is when he’s unamused with a reporter, “we’re in a time out.”

“You can call it that,” you giggle, and it segues into a huffy whimper when you angle your hand just right. “You were acting childish, anyway.”

Charles sighs, long and deep. “We—fuck.” His eyes can’t unglue themselves from your fingers. He knows he could make you feel so much better, fuck real moans out of you until you’re crying. “We were being childish, oui, and it was—we were just tense. I was unhappy with strategy. I could’ve been P2 but they pitted me at the worst time, putain. I took it out on you, and I’m… I was… I was worn out, and you called us childish in your interview.” 

Ever the minx, you only smile. You’d been joking, you clarified that a day later; it was crass, spurred on by team radios of the two of them complaining in the latter half of the race. “It was a joke, Charles.”

“I know, baby, I know.” His lip curls and he breathes steadily, controlling himself. “It was unprompted though. You weren’t even asked about us. And yeah, a joke—but it felt shitty, love. I don’t mind it—we don’t mind it, but—” He needs to think about the phrasing, think about his intentions.

Your eyes are on fire, clearly still angry, but steadily softening.

“But in moderation,” comes Max’s raspy voice. “You’re running your mouth a lot in the media.”

“You’re one to—ah—talk,” you huff back, a futile argument.

“You need to understand that—that when you’re giddy, or angry, you can’t keep turning to interviews to express all that out. You need to sit with it. Just because we’re not…” your boyfriends, Max almost says, “…yours, doesn’t mean you can shit on us then expect us to be okay with it a few hours later. It’s a thing you do. A game you play. And it’s nice, it was nice then, but it’s annoying now, and it’s almost, like, do you even want this to keep going? To work—?”

You recoil. “You seriously think I don’t want th—”

Charles cuts in. “Well, when you play at us like this, yeah. Put in the work. If you’re high off a win, or mad for some other reason, just let it happen. Don’t fucking.” He exhales. “Call us names, then show up at our hotel acting like an angel.”

They’ve always looked out for you like this, known when to scold you or put you in your place for doing too much or not doing enough. They’ve never let personal things cross too much with business, which is a blessing of an ability when you’re three people having regular sex while balancing a ludicrous athletic career. It’s all sussed down to stupid ‘I care for you’ stuff that, frankly, they’re both too horny and angry to get into the grit of right now.

They don’t realize how quiet the room has grown until you eke out a noise, a thoughtful sound of agreement. You’ve pulled your fingers out, both hands playing with a loose thread on the hem of the sweater, rolling it into a ball. Your hair falls in waves. There’s a crease in it from the ponytail you wear when driving.

Your expression is still murderous, but much softer now; you cough, “I—I get what you’re saying. And I know I play… I have these games, or—but, honestly, I could say the same to you both.” You stutter through your totally shit explanation.

“How do you… mean,” deadpans Max. 

“I mean, when I’m acting out, you two just take it.” Having them at your mercy like that is satisfying in its own right, but pragmatically, it’s unhealthy. “You don’t ever tell me off. Even now. I need you to tell me… to fucking,” you’re warm and spluttery now. “Fuck's sake, okay? I know I can be annoying. I know I say stupid shit when I don’t finish and I’m way less diplomatic than Mr. Il Predestinato,” you breathe. “But you two just let me be annoying!”

“Then don’t be annoying,” Charles says, diplomatic as ever—his voice rises, though, nearly matching yours.

“Not like that!” You huff, folding your legs and sitting straighter, and they catch a glimpse of your pink panties again. “When I’m out of line, you”—you point to them—“need to correct me.” They’re nearly blindsided by your request to… be told what to do, which is so different from how sex usually works. From how this whole dynamic usually works.

But Max remembers your manager, and Toto, and your teammate Lewis even, and your engineers, who have all, at one point or another, had to talk you down and tell you to calm down and correct your behavior. So he says, “People do that all the time, but it only works for a second.”

“Because th—” You suck in a lungful of air. “They’re not you two, you daft fuckers!” You’re at the centre of the bed now, sweater drooped over your folded thighs, eyes matching the rain outside. “Every time, I need to be talked down, and you never. Do it. So do it. Fucking—do it. I have to tell you everything.”

“You don’t—-”

“Oh, I do.” You say, folding your arms over your chest. 

“This is despicable,” Max says. “We need to sort this out properly.”

“So what? This isn’t”—you raise violent air quotes—“putting in the work?”

They glance at each other for a minute. They feel you thinking you’re winning, thinking they’ll grovel and say okay we’ll do that next time, can we fuck you? Like all the other semi-resolved fights before. You’re sitting straight, eyebrows raised, defiant. But for them to do that—you just said it wasn’t what you needed. 

And they’d have to be caught dead before not giving you what you need. If you want to be bossed around a bit, then they’ll do it.

“Sit down,” Charles goes. Unmoving. 

“What.” You’re deadpanning, eyes narrowed.

“Sit the fuck down,” he repeats. You open your mouth, but he’s quicker. “Don’t make me say it again.”

You pout, leaning against the headboard and unfolding your legs. He rounds the room, sits at the foot of the bed. It’s a big bed, so even if he’s on it, he still needs to reach over a bit to be able to touch you. The distance is good, though, keeps them in control. Max sits opposite him, both of them on either side of you, and they’re so close, so scrutinizing, so handsome. 

“Put your fingers in your mouth,” he says. You take a second, spreading your knees and obeying. You find a way, though, to make their little challenge all your own—you make a show of it, peeking your tongue out and licking your bottom lip all shiny before hollowing your cheeks. You stare at them the whole time and you don’t blink. It’s hotter than it has any right to be. “Suck on them.” You continue doing it, lips slightly curled.

“You’re a brat.” You try to conceal the whimper that leaves you but it fails pathetically. Charles presses on. “A spoiled brat.”

He’s the nicer of the two. Your whole threesome situation had began three years ago, and in almost every tryst since then, he’s been nice. In fact, if any of them were to ever ‘tell you off’ like you so desperately wanted, apparently, it would have definitely been Max. He’s firm, yeah, but he’s sweet. And he’d hate to boss you around too much, even if it’s something he wants. So he thinks, and he pretends he’s back to quali day of last week. It was a slow morning because of weather problems, so everyone was in a mood, and you were absolutely no exception. You come off as quiet to the public and to some of the grid, but to your friends, you’re anything but.

In an effort to lift the mood, you’d been mouthing off the entire day to your close circle of driver friends, in particular retelling the story of how you had teased Charles post-DNF in Saudi, and even gotten Lando to laugh about it at the time. What a season starter, you said when you were recounting it. You left out a detail: that night in Saudi, he’d fucked you and refused to let you cum, soaking your pillow with tears and goading a sobbed apology out of you.

Watching you joke about it again, even if it was a fucking joke and even if it was because you were mad at him and Max—got him all red hot, pissed off. Seething.

“Do you remember last race weekend when you joked about my DNF in Saudi?”

Cheeks hollowed, you nod.

“Fucking brat. That whole day. Ignoring me, ignoring Max. Didn’t listen to our apologies. Just noise all day.”

Your brows knit defiantly.

“I’m serious. You weren’t being funny. Just a brat. And if you were bored or pissed, you could’ve said so instead of making me look stupid.” You nod.

He glimpses at Max; the latter speaks next. “Open yourself up.”

You spread your legs out farther and sneak your spit-slick fingers down, pushing the flimsy material aside to rub at your cunt, two fingers sliding right back in. You breathe out shakily and wait for them to talk again. You’re still fussy, high-strung, not totally calm and mellowed down yet.

“When Charles and I aren’t here to fuck you into behaving, who’s going to make sure you’re acting proper?”

“Carlos,” you grit out in between thrusts.

They seethe. “Again,” Charles says, unamused.

“Nat,” you name your manager. “Lewis, or something. Fuck. Lando? I don’t—”

You asked to be told what to do, but you never said, they suppose, that it would be an easy job. “Guess again.”

“Toto.” You look delighted at that last one, knowing the implication. They’ve always been a bit jealous there. You thrive off disobedience, getting your two favorite boys all angry and flushed red with it. You open your mouth to try smartassing your way out of their orders, but Max beats you to it. “If you guess wrong, you’re not cumming. We’ll fuck you tonight, but no cumming.”

You whimper out loud, sinking your fingers farther in, adding a third.

“Don’t add another. Answer Max,” Charles says.

“Fuck,” you seethe, slipping the third out on your next thrust. “Me. I’m supposed to keep myself in check. When I’m mad. When I’m giddy and fuck—yeah. Me. It’s me.”

“Good girl,” he rasps out. “Good girl. You have to practice. How does it feel?”

I know, you mouth, eyes fluttering. You scissor the two fingers you’re thrusting in and out, wet with slick. “Feels good.”

“Not your fingers, love,” Max says. “How’s it feel hearing what we just told you?”

“Good, better,” you say in-between breaths. “I’ll practice. I like it. You’re not… letting me push you around. You’re—you can punish—fuck. Me.”

“Yeah? How, then?” 

“Fuck me,” you repeat breathlessly. “Both of you.”

“Add another,” Charles orders, and you nod, quick and pliant, fucking yourself open. They’re both so hard, cocks heavy and uncomfortable in their jeans. You can see the thick shapes of them through the denim, and you thrust harder, a futile attempt to replicate how it feels when they’re fucking you.

“You remember how it feels, having both of us in you?” Max sounds amused.

“Yes,” you moan. Your pathetic imitation of moans and gasps earlier pales in comparison to this, voice dry and thick with pleasure and raw desperation. “Yes, pl—fuck, yes.”

“Why aren’t you feeling it now?” They need to hear you verbalize the reason why, admit it one last time before they give you what you want. You whine, rutting your hips up against your hand, catching your clit on the heel of your palm. 

“Because I was being a brat, and I—you were being childish, but I didn’t want to talk things through either—and I’m always taking out my emotions on you guys, and I’m sorry, okay, would you just fuck me already?”

They’re on you immediately, all words and whispers, fingers at your chin turning you both ways to slot kisses on your mouth. Your free hand palms over Max’s bulge; he’s the one to your right. It’s hard and thick and heavy and you need it, need them. Charles’ hand takes over yours, thrusting deep and you’re whimpering into his sweet mouth.

“Feel my cock?” Max asks, “Could make you feel real nice, baby.”

“I know,” you sigh, breathless. “I want it.”

“When's the last time you took us both?” Charles asks, smile wicked. “Little thing like you.”

You grit out a moan, fuzzy and floating, letting them lift you up to straddle—one of them—you open your eyes and see Charles staring up at you, wonder and green eyes. “Got this, love?” You nod, yeah, I’ve got it, you say, little sighs. Both of you. Now.

This space you’re in, where it’s pleasure and fuzz and nothing else, is comparable to the high of winning. And you know you prefer that to sex, at least now, because racing is your life. It’s the slow satisfaction of being the best on the entire grid, despite everything. It’s the cheers, the raised fists when you climb atop your car and bring the crowd to a crescendo. The even louder screams when you pull your helmet and balaclava off and smile, trophy and all, champagne shiny and glowy on your face. All that shit—it’s addictive, and it feels just like this. So similar, in fact, because when you win, you finish on top of Charles and Max, and—

—Max is behind you, jeans tugged just enough for his cock to be pulled free, slick with lube and prodding at your ass—

—it feels just fucking like this.

“Like Max’s cock filling you up?” His cockhead is breaching your tight entrance and you moan out loud.

“I missed it,” you say, muffled by Charles’ free thumb at your lips, swirling it on your tongue. You flip him off for cutting you off and he laughs. “Give it t’me,” you goad, turning slightly. You want it so bad, missed being fed with their cocks. A week is too long. “I need more of it, all of it. In me, fill me up,” you beg, whimpering, desperate.

Max stares at your ass, grabs at the flesh there, at the string of your thong. You suck him in so hungrily, like you’re challenging him to not thrust in fully; you’re canting your hips backward too, and Max has to hike the too-big sweater up to watch the muscles of your back flex to meet his dick.

“So pretty, princess,” Charles says, because with them you really are a princess. Max begins to thrust into you from behind and you’re getting little moans fucked out of you, watching Charles unbuckle his jeans to tug his cock out, thick and pretty and you want—if you could, you would suck on it, let him fuck your throat, but you’re in the business of being filled to the point of blank thoughts right now.

You feel Charles at your cunt then, your slick making the slide easier, and Charles bucks his hips up and you—this is what you needed, to mellow you down, get you all loose and ready for more. “Take it, baby,” Max says, “all of it, all of us.”

“Ah,” you gasp out. “Ah.”

“Come on,” he grits, voice hardening. “You’re ruined. Pretty little girl. Come on.”

“Maxie,” you call out weakly, your fond little nickname for him. You remember Charles whining about how he doesn’t have one, so you save baby for him, had sussed that out on a night where they took turns fucking you. Your hips torn between the two dicks stuffing you, face sweaty and the sweater doesn’t help, gets you hotter; Charles gets the hint, and with effort, pulls it off you. Your skin is shiny underneath, matching bra sticking to your sweaty, sheened out skin.

“Love it,” you say, voice strained. “Split—fuck—me open.” Your holes clench around them and Jesus, they could have you all flushed and pretty and spread out like them, like this, forever. Charles grabs at the flesh of your ass, slaps you once and you’re tightening around them, breath impossibly still, thighs shaking. Max’s hands hold your hips tight, hungrily traveling up, groping at the wire of your bra to press at your tits. You’re pressed against both of them at a delicious angle that gets you dizzy.

“I’m gonna cum, I,” you breathe out, moaning, “I haven’t touched myself since…”

They both moan at that, delirious. Fuck. The thought of you holding it—for them—fuck. 

“You’re so perfect, so—fuck—slutty,” Charles says, and you can’t hide the moan fast enough. “Feels good, having us in you, yeah? Getting you all noisy and… fucking—shit. I know how much you needed this, love. I know how much you love it. Us.”

From behind, Max snakes a hand up your abdomen, the column of your throat, and wraps there. You see white from the sensation of it alone.

“Tell me—I can’t—please, I—Charles—Maxie—” You’re increasingly incoherent, slick running down your thighs, twitching vigorously. You try to comprehend everything but you’re losing coherence and they get it, they get it, wiping your tears and sweat and coercing you to cum, yeah, pretty little pussy so fucking wet for us, cum hard, come on, you’ve been so good, baby, the best girl for us.

There’s no way either of them are lasting after that, after watching you fall apart and finish on top of them, stuffed full, stuffed pliant, stuffed fucking docile.

It’s your turn, then, to praise, your favorite boys, always so good for me, thank you for letting me cum, come on, let me taste it—and you’re stained with their release after a few minutes, Max biting on your shoulder, Charles’ thumb indenting your hip.

—

What. A. Podium, ladies and gentlemen! Max Verstappen of Red Bull, from P6 in the last race to a stunning P3 drive—Charles Leclerc, braving the team’s dismal strategy to get P2! What a knockout. Of course the Mercedes legend, gunning for four championships now, had crossed the flag first to claim her fifth P1 of the season.

What a legendary race, absolutely proper podium. They showed us what driving is, real driving.

The season is heating up. 

Makes you wonder what happened over the weekend for them to get such good results.

This is F1. I’m sure they keep each other motivated.

[thewritingrowlet]

The Beauty and The Brawn, ft. Billlie Sheon

tags: creampie, throat fuck, cum-in-mouth, (almost) friends-to-lovers

tw: bullying, depiction of violence

word count: 8k+

author's note: This is the first fic out of 2 (or 3) before I start writing abt tripleS again. This fic shares the same "universe" (kek) as The Outing Trip, btw. (edit) I forgot to mention that Sheon is referred to as Suyeon in this fic

“Hyung”, Chanwoo, the deputy governor in the student council of the Faculty of Economics and Business, calls out to you as he enters the room, “I heard whispers in the wind about someone getting bullied at the campus”. “You did?”, you say as you look up from your phone. “Yeah, apparently it has been going on for a while too”, he continues, “I only heard about the rumor a few hours ago, sorry”. You shake your head and tell him there’s nothing to be sorry for, “it’s not like you’re the bully—wait, you’re not the bully, are you?”. Chanwoo is seemingly offended by your words, “What the fuck? We both know you’d beat me down to a pulp if I bullied anyone”. You nod in agreement; you’re known for beating up bullies and the evil sort and getting in trouble for it, which then begs the question: who dares be a bully when there’s a someone with a reputation like yours running around? “I’ll look into it. Thank you for the heads up”, you say to him as you leave for class.

-

You made it to class with 10 minutes to spare, so now you’re on your tablet to review last week’s lesson. You’re deep into it when you see a handful of girls and guys enter the classroom in the corner of your eyes. “Hey, what do we do about Suyeon-ie? She hasn’t started working on our assignments yet”, one of the girls say. “This bitch, man, I swear to God”, a guy says, “how can someone be so smart and idiotic at the same time? We’ll talk to her again after this”. Your concentration breaks after hearing those words. “Bitch, huh? Idiotic, too? Some interesting choice of words there, bud”, you think to yourself. You take a good look at them and burn their faces into your memory for future reference before turning your attention back to your tablet.

“Good afternoon, everybody”, Professor Bae says as she enters the packed classroom, “beautiful day today, right?”. She then sets her bag on the desk and connects her laptop to the projector. “Okay, before we start today’s class, does anyone have any questions about the previous one?”, she says as she looks around the room before pointing to someone who has their hand up, “oh, you”. The girl looks hesitant and nervous to ask her question, and you wonder if she’s intimidated by Professor Bae (which makes sense; she looks intimidating sometimes). “Thank you for the question, miss”, the professor says before starting the train of explanation. As you’re listening to her, you hear whispers from the bunch behind you and catch someone say “bitch” again but can’t make out the rest of the sentence, and it bothers your focus once again. “I need to get to the bottom of this soon”, you say in your head.

-

“That is all for today, everyone. Thank you for coming and see you next week for the quiz”, Professor Bae wraps up the class. You see one student after another start leaving the classroom, but you stay in your seat and wait until everyone clears out. “Excuse me, professor”, you come up to her, “may I ask you a question?”. “Sure, how can I help you?”, the professor says. “Have you heard rumors about someone getting bullied on campus, madam?”, you ask. She exhales deeply, “I can see in your eyes that you want to throw punches already”. “Madam, please”, you push her, making her take a deep breath. “Fine; short answer is yes, I have—I know the victim, in fact”, she says.

You’re perplexed, “you do, madam?”. She replies to you with a nod, “remember the girl who raised her hand at the start of the class? That’s the victim, a freshman named Kim Suyeon”. “So that was Suyeon, huh?”, you think to yourself, “what about the perpetrators, professor?”. Professor Bae shakes her head, “I’ve asked before, but she wouldn’t tell me, son”. “Respectfully, madam, I think she needs more closure and assurance that she’ll be safe before she feels comfortable enough to speak up”, you say to her. The professor nods and sighs, “I agree, and I guess I can’t offer her that”.

You say your thanks and bow to her before leaving, and that’s when she calls out to you again; “governor”, she says, “I do not condone violence on campus”. You blink your eyes in confusion, “pardon?”. “I repeat, I do not condone violence on campus grounds”, Professor Bae says with a wink and a smile at the end. The way she winks and emphasizes the last three words gives you some idea; “I will keep that in mind, professor. Have a good day, madam”, you say with a bow before you leave the classroom. “You have a good heart, Shin Jungwoo. I just wish you wouldn’t resort to violence like it was the only thing you knew, but you do you, son—I got your back”, Professor Bae says when she sees you leave.

You find Chanwoo’s contact on your phone and text him to ask if he’s in class, and he immediately calls you. “Hyung, what’s up? Found anything yet?”, he asks. “Kind of, and now I need your help. Find out what you can about a freshman named Kim Suyeon”, you say to him. “Kim Suyeon, huh? Alright, I’ll get back to you soon”, Chanwoo says, “what’s your plan when we find out who the bullies are?”. “We’ll try talking to them first before letting the fists fly”, you say, calm but resolute, “talk to you soon, Chanwoo-yah. Thanks for your help”. Chanwoo is one of the few people who doesn’t approve of violence but doesn’t shy away from it should it be needed—he’s helped you fight someone before, actually.

-

It’s been a few days since you found out the name of the victim and sent Chanwoo on a recon mission. You feel your phone vibrate in your pocket as you’re walking to the cafeteria, so you pull it out and see that there’s an email from Professor Bae: “My office—now”, it says. You turn around and run in the other direction towards Professor Bae’s office as fast as you can, putting your cardio training to good use.

You press the bell to her room while panting like you were chased by an angry German Shepherd. The door buzzes as it unlocks, and you enter right away. “Good—hah—good afternoon, madam”, you say with heavy pants. The professor looks at you with a gentle smile, “good afternoon to you as well, governor”. You compose yourself and see that someone else is in the room, so Professor Bae introduces you to this person. “Governor, this is Kim Suyeon. Suyeon-ah, this is the governor of the Faculty of Economics and Business, Shin Jungwoo”, she says. “Kim Suyeon? That Kim Suyeon?”, you think to yourself, and that is when you see Suyeon turn to you. “Good afternoon, sunbaenim. We’ve met before, haven’t we? Nice to meet you again”, she says with a smile and red eyes; “she must’ve just finished crying”, you think.

“I’ve managed to convince her to open up to me”, Professor Bae informs, “you said she needed more closure and assurance, right? Well, I’m doing that right now”. You bend forward with your hands on your knees, “and-and—fuck, I’m tired—and how are you doing that, if I may ask?”. “I’m putting her under your watch, and I know you’ll never let harm come her way when she’s with you”, she pats you on the back, “what’s wrong with you? I thought you exercise often”. “It was the adrenaline, madam”, you say, “your short email made me nervous so I ran as fast as I could—I’m sorry for the profanity, by the way”. Professor Bae laughs, “it’s whatever, son. Now, get out of my office and start getting to know each other better, ‘kay?”.

You show her a soft smile and reach your hand out, “may I, miss?”. She timidly holds your hand and stands up, “yes, sunbaenim”. You lead her out of the office and towards the cafeteria. “Can I call you by your name?”, you ask her on the way. “Sure”, she says, “my name is Kim Suyeon”. You giggle softly, “nice to meet you, Suyeon-ah. My name is Shin Jungwoo—I’m sure the professor has told you about me”. As you keep walking, you feel a tug on your arm. “Sun-sunbaenim”, she says nervously, “can I call you by anything other than that?”. “Yeah, of course; call me oppa, okay? I’m 99% sure I’m older than you”, you say, attempting to make a friendly joke. A simple “okay” said in a seemingly low-spirited tone is her answer, and you make it your goal to make her feel better by the end of the day.

You buy a large bowl of tteokbokki and fried chicken to share with Suyeon along with a couple of soft drinks. You hand her some chopsticks and encourage her to eat first. “I-I’m not too hungry, oppa”, she says—timing can’t be more perfect, as you hear a faint growl from her stomach as soon as she says that. You pick up a piece of chicken and guide it to her lips with a smile, “please, have a bite; do it for me”. She slowly parts her lips and puts the piece of chicken into her mouth. She looks down at the table as she chews, and you suddenly see a tear escape her eyes. Your eyes widen in shock, and you move to sit next to her before pulling her to lean against your shoulder. “Woah, woah, are you okay?”, you ask in panic. “You-you’re so kind, a-and I’m not sure if I deserve it”, she sniffles, “pe-people have been really cruel to me and-and I’m starting to think maybe I deserve it, oppa”.

You’ve taken punches in the face before, but her words hurt way, way more than even the worst punch. “My fucking God, bullying really disrupts the victim’s psyche, huh?”, you think to yourself―you’ve never really interacted with the victims and never had the chance to see it from their perspective, as you’re usually busy throwing punches with the bullies instead. The way she cries when shown such simple gesture of kindness makes it clear for you that she has longed for it for an extended period, and it strengthens your heart’s resolve to continue your fight against bullying, both physically and mentally.

“Sweetheart, sweetheart”, you whisper softly, “it’s okay; no one can hurt you when I’m here”. Fate is doing its best to surprise you today, as you see the group of people who referred to Suyeon as a “bitch” walking in front of you. You glare at each of them, and they stop in their tracks when they see you and Suyeon being so close to each other. “Oppa, please, I’m scared”, Suyeon wails and hugs your arm tightly in tears. “Wait here, okay, sweetie?”, you whisper to her before leaving the table to confront them. It takes everything in you to not just whack these brats right here, right now; “tell me your names and classes”, you say, your voice laced with anger. The boys tell you their names—Lee Taewon and Kim Dojoon, both freshmen—while the girls are too scared to say anything. “Do you know who I am?”, you ask again. “I don’t give a fuck who you are; you’re just some chump who likes acting tough in front of his bimbo”, Taewon says. “Oi”, one of the girls says almost like a whisper, “that’s the governor, Shin Jungwoo”. “I don’t fucking care”, Taewon continues, “I’ll fuck him up just the same”. “Is that right?”, you say, “meet me in the alley behind Super Sandwich in 30 minutes—don’t run”.

You turn around to sit at the table again, and that’s when you hear Suyeon scream from the top of her lungs—one of them must be trying to take a cheap shot. You turn around just in time to react and strike back, making Taewon tumble from it. “You fucking bitch, save it for later”, you say. Dojoon is just standing there in silence; “come get your boy and get the fuck out of my sight”, you say to him. Dojoon rushes to Taewon and drags him away, so you head back to your table again to tend to Suyeon. She now looks afraid of you, as she tries to put some distance between you and herself.

“Hey, hey, I’m not gonna hurt you, sweetie”, you say in a calm voice with your palms open as a sign of non-aggression. “I-I’ve heard that you beat people up often”, she says. “Only the bad ones, sweetie—like those bullies”, you tell her. While she knows that you don’t shy away from violence, she doesn’t know that you can toggle your anger on and off like a lamp, and the cluelessness scares her shitless. You decide to text Chanwoo and tell him their names and your “appointment” while you wait until Suyeon calms down; “you want me to come with you?”, he replies. “No, I need you to wait for me in the council’s space and notify Professor Bae about this”, you tell him.

You put the lid over the bowl and ask Suyeon to follow you to the council’s space. When you arrive, you see that Chanwoo is already there waiting for you to come. “Hyung, can you, like, tell me a summary or something?”, he says. You nod, “Son Chanwoo, this is Kim Suyeon. Suyeon-ah, this is Chanwoo; he’s the deputy governor in the council—that’s enough of a summary, I think”. “So, this is her, huh?”, Chanwoo grabs an empty chair and sets it next to him, “please have a seat, Suyeon-ah—I won’t hurt you, I promise”. Suyeon hesitantly approaches him and takes a seat, “n-nice to meet you, sunbaenim”. You take a knee in front of Suyeon and open the bowl again, “Sweetheart, I have a favor to ask: I want you to eat as much as you can while I take care of those rascals. Can you do that, please?”. “Yes, oppa; I will eat as much as I can while you take care of those rascals”, she says with a smile, and you see in her eyes the hopefulness for all these bad things to end. “Keep her safe for me, man. I’ll see you guys in a bit”, you give Chanwoo a fist bump before leaving the room and head to the appointment spot.

-

It's empty when you arrive there, so you decide to wait it out and see if this guy is really about that or not. You’ve been waiting for 20 minutes when Taewon finally arrives, all by his lonesome. “Where are your friends?”, you ask him. “I don’t need them”, he shrugs, “I’ll take you myself”. You know that Taewon wants the smoke, but you can’t find it in you the same fury you’ve used to fuel the fire in your heart—you’d rather feed Suyeon some tteokbokki right now than fight this guy. “Man, I just want to be with Suyeon-ie­ right now”, you think to yourself. You see Taewon standing still like a dummy, so you taunt him, hoping that getting him riled up will get you riled up as well. “I don’t have all day, you bastard; are we doing this or nah?”, you say to him.

He rushes to you huffing and puffing and hits you right in the cheek. You shrug it off and mock him more, “all that shit talk earlier only for you to hit me like that? You’re wasting my time, you little shit”. He releases a flurry of punches, hitting you on different spots like your cheek, your stomach, and your chest, and it’s starting to hurt now. “There you go, my boy—my turn now”, you say before your right fist lands right on his chin, knocking the wind out of his body and forcing him to tumble backwards. “Focus up, my turn isn’t over yet”, you say as you ready your left to strike. The cheeky bastard thinks it is his turn again, as he tries to surprise you with a punch out of nowhere. Adrenaline has come to your aid and brings rage with it, and you use it right away to dodge and storm him with punches of your own, making him fall flat on the pavement. You press your foot on Taewon’s neck and tell him your demand; “leave Suyeon-ie alone—is that clear?”, you say to him sternly but calmly.

You don’t care if he has anything else to say and just walk away, and you’re met with Dojoon who apparently has been hiding around the corner this whole time. “Oh, there you are”, you say to him, “you want some too or what?”. Dojoon looks at you in fear before running away. “You’re not gonna help your boy?”, you yell at him but get no response, “guess I will then”. You rush to Super Sandwich and buy a bottle of water for Taewon and bring it to him.

“Hello again, brat”, you pull him up to his feet and lean him against the wall, “here, have some water”. You open the bottle for Taewon and hand it to him, and he finishes it within seconds; “thirsty much?”, you say to him. “I’m-I’m sorry”, he says in tears, “I never meant to hurt her like that”. You roll your eyes, “my fucking God, stop it with the crocodile tears”. “You don’t understand, man. I never hated Suyeon-ie”, he wails, "I-I liked her as a friend, and I thought about shooting my shot—I never meant it to end up like this”. You’re perplexed by his little confession, “you called her a bimbo and talked shit to me in front of her, you asshole, and now you want to say that you’ve liked her all along? You missed me with that bullshit”. Taewon grabs your wrist as you walk away, “promise me that you’ll take care of her, hyung”. Your head might be flooded with anger, but you can hear the sincerity in his voice when he said that last sentence, so you give him a nod and leave to check on Suyeon.

-

You knock on the door of the council’s space and Chanwoo opens it for you. “Welcome back, hyung”, he says as he hugs you, “so, how was it?”. You pull away from the hug and pat him on the back, “it was fine; he understood his mistake and is regretful”. You take a knee in front of Suyeon again and take her hands in yours. “Hi, sweetie. How are we feeling?”, you ask her. “W-what is that on your face, oppa?”, she says, as fear clouds her mind. You smile and tell her that it’s nothing, but she doesn’t think so; “I-I don’t want people to get hurt because of me”, she says, tears bursting out of her eyes, “just-just let me get hurt because of me—they’re after me anyway”. You take off her glasses and lifts her chin, “no one deserves to get hurt like you have, sweetheart, and they’ve agreed to stay away from you and not hurt you again”. She jumps off her chair and hugs you. “I’m-I’m sorry, oppa. I should’ve stood up for myself”, she says, “you wouldn’t have got hurt if I had”. You peck the top of her head, “I’m not hurt, Suyeon­-ah, trust me. I’m fine and so is Chanwoo—we’re here for you, sweetie”.

Suyeon pulls away from the hug and wipes her tears. “Can I invite you two to come over for dinner?”, she asks. “I’m sorry, but I already have plans with my girlfriend—thanks for the invite, Suyeon-ah”, Chanwoo declines, “I’m sure Jungwoo-hyung is down for dinner, though”. You chuckle, “yes, I’m down for dinner”. “Great!”, Suyeon exclaims, “we need to go now, oppa!”.

-

Suyeon enters the passcode of her apartment and lets you in. Your heart sinks to the bottom of the trench when you see the scattered clothes and dirty dishes all over the place. “I’m sorry”, she says timidly, “I haven’t had time to clean up. I’ve been busy doing everyone’s assignments, you see”. You feel tears flowing down your cheeks as you assess the situation further. “My God, they’ve been ruthless, haven’t they?”, you say weakly as you wipe your tears. “It’s okay, oppa. I’m used to it right now”, she utters, and her words hurt you even more. You hug her tightly, “it’s over, Suyeon-ah. You won’t have to do this ever again, I promise. I’ll help you sort these things out, okay?”.

You let her go and sit down in front of the pile of clothes on her couch. You take a T-shirt from the pile and fold it neatly before taking another and doing the same. “Suyeon-ah, there’s a shirt here, do you have a hanger?”, you say to her, and instead of hearing a reply, you hear a sob instead. You look in her direction and see that she’s crying again; “what do you want from me, oppa? What’s your motive? What’s behind your nice guy façade, huh? You’re gonna make me do your assignments too, aren’t you? Answer me, oppa—tell me I’m wrong”. “I’m sorry but you are wrong”, you stand up and approach her, “I’m not going to make you do my assignments or whatever. I just want to help—would you let me help?”. She nods in agreement, so you ask her one more time if she has hangers, “ye-yes, I have a few. I’ll get it for you”.

You sit back down and put the shirt to the side for later so you can fold other stuff. “Here’s some hangers, oppa”, Suyeon says as she walks over to you. You look at her, “thank— “; your words are cut off by a peck on the lips from Suyeon, and the both of you blush at the same time. “Thank you, sweetheart”, you say, “the-the hangers, please”. She covers her face after handing them to you, and you focus back on the pile in front of you, which is gradually getting smaller. “Hey, underwear—oh, sorry”, you say as you see some bras and panties laying in front of you. You fold the bras in half and hand them to Suyeon along with some hung shirts, and she can’t look you in the eyes now.

“Time to do these dishes now”, you say as you leave the now clear couch. Suyeon tries to push you away from the sink with a grunt, but her small arms don’t have enough strength to move you. “Have a seat, please. I’ll take care of this”, you say to her, and she replies with a simple “okay” and take a seat at the dining table. “Oppa”, she calls out, “why did you call me ‘sweetheart’ earlier?”. “I just wanted to be clear that I wasn’t going to harm you in any shape or form. I’m sorry if it made you uncomfortable”, you say as you try to clean off a persistent stain on a plate. “It’s okay, oppa. You can call me anything you want—just don’t say anything mean, please. It hurts, you know, especially if you were to say it”, she says. “I know, sweetheart—I know”, you look at her with a smile.

-

Now that all the dishes have been cleaned and the pile cleared from the couch, you lie on it so that you can catch your breath. “That was tiring”, you comment, “I hope I did it well”. Suyeon walks to the drying rack to inspect your work, “they’re spotless, oppa. I’ve never washed them this well before”. “Great to hear, but I’m hungry now”, you say as you show her a thumbs-up. “Oh, um, I only have instant stuff, oppa”, she shyly admits, “I’m sorry, I know I invited you over for dinner, but I don’t have much right now”. “I’m sure instant stuff will still taste good if you’re the one making it”, you try to lift her spirits, “I’ll take you on a dinner date one day if that’s okay”. You take a peek at the cupboard she’s opening and see that she only has 2 packs of instant noodles left; “she doesn’t even have time to stock up on food—those bastards, I swear to God”, you say in your head.

She takes those two packs and looks at them sadly. “Are you okay, sweetie?”, you ask. “The-these are my last ones, oppa”, she says with a sorrowful voice, “I won’t have food if we use this”. You close your eyes in pain before offering her an idea, “you know what? Let’s eat outside and get groceries after—I’ll pay, don’t worry”. “You’re spoiling me, oppa”, she says, “first it was the mess and now this”. You shake your head, “it’s fine, sweetie. I’m glad I get to do these things for you”. You then take her hand and leave the apartment so that you can get dinner somewhere.

You take Suyeon to a burger shop near the campus which you heard is owned by the parents of a freshman. You head straight to the register to order; “good evening, can I have a double cheeseburger and fries, please?”. “Yes, you can. Anything else?”, the lady says, so you turn to Suyeon and ask her what she’d like to have, and she timidly replies that she wants the same thing you’re having. “Alright, please have a seat. Food is coming out in 10 minutes”, the lady says again.

You turn around to find an empty table, and that’s when you see another governor from the university. “Kim Yooyeon!”, you excitedly exclaim as you walk up to her with Suyeon behind you. You give her a high five and ask her if she’s alone. “Yeah, I am. My friends are on Jung Jisung’s trip”, she says before shoving a piece of fry into her mouth. You feel a tug on your shirt, and you’re promptly reminded that you’re not alone. “Ah, almost forgot—Yooyeon-ah, this is Kim Suyeon; she’s one of ours. Suyeon-ah, this is Yooyeon from the Faculty of Science—she’s a governor just like me, by the way”, you introduce them to each other. They both exchange greetings and you decide to sit at the table next to Yooyeon’s.

“Oppa, I’m going to the toilet”, Suyeon says, and you nod in response. You and Yooyeon keep your eyes on her until she disappears around the corner. “What’s her story?”, Yooyeon asks, “how did you find her?”. You sigh, “she was bullied, Yooyeon-ah, and I might or might not have punched her bully”. Yooyeon rubs her forehead in stress, “you really need to stop beating people up—we can’t keep defending you, you know”. You shake your head, “Respectfully, Governor, you have no idea what being a victim of bullying has made of her”. “May I ask?”, she prods. You list the things you saw earlier today: the messy pile of clothes on the couch, dirty dishes from God-knows-when, and the empty pantry. “She was so busy doing other people’s shit that she didn’t even have a second to think about herself—I’m taking her to get groceries after this, by the way”, you end your explanation. Yooyeon nods, and you’d like to think that she understands the severity of the situation.

Suyeon returns just in time, as the food is brought to you as she’s about to sit down. “Alright, I’m going to leave now. Good evening, guys. See you soon”, Yooyeon says. You give her a fist bump, “see you soon, Yooyeon-ah. Tell Jisung-ie I said—oh, speak of the devil”. Jisung is calling you; “I gotta take this, sweetie”, you say to Suyeon and head outside.

“Good evening, this is Shin Jungwoo”, you say. ”Good evening to you as well, this is Jung Jisung”, Jisung says over the phone, “where are you, man?”. “I’m at a burger shop with someone—Yooyeon-ie just left, by the way”, you tell him, “can I help you, president?”. “You know I hate it when you call me that, right? Anyway, what’s this rumor I heard about bullying?”, he asks. “Yeah, a group of freshmen had bullied a fellow freshman and forced her to do their assignments, even going as far as referring to her with derogatory terms, and the victim has been having it rough because of it—the victim is with me right now, in fact”, you give him a summary. “The rumor also told me that you’ve fought the bully as well”, you hear Jisung sigh over the phone, “we can’t keep defending you, man. Promise me this is the last time”. “I’ll ask Yooyeon-ie to tell you what I’ve— “, you’re cut off by a girl’s voice from Jisung’s side of the call. “Oppa! Oppa, are you okay? Are you hurt? You need to stop fighting people, seriously”, the girl says. “Sorry, who is this?”, you ask. “This is Nakyoung-ie, oppa. Xinyu-unnie is also here with us, by the way”. “Oh, hi, you two—you know what? We’ll talk about this again when you guys get back, I’ll bring Suyeon-ie as well”, you tell them. “Suyeon-ie? Is that the victim’s name?”, Nakyoung asks. “Yes, and I’m taking her to dinner and then a grocery run later”, you glance into the restaurant and see that Suyeon is looking at you, “I gotta go. Talk to you guys soon, okay? Good evening”.

You hang up the call and head back to your table. “Sorry, sweetheart. The president just called”, you explain to her, “are we ready to go or?”. She reaches her arms out, “carry me, oppa”. “Oh, um, sure”, you say, “haven’t lifted weights in a while but I should be okay”. Suyeon sulks, “I-I’m not that heavy, oppa, I promise”. You show her a soft smile before carrying her on your back, “I know, sweetheart. Come, let’s go to the supermarket”.

-

You drop her off in front of the supermarket and lift her chin to look at you. “Sweetheart, listen to me: I want you to get all the things you need and want without worrying about how much they are. Can you do that, please?”. “Yes, oppa”, she says with a gleeful and precious smile, “let’s goooo!”. She runs inside and grabs a trolley before sprinting towards the vegetable and fruit section. You follow her as she grabs some bok choys, half a rock melon, half a watermelon, and a few different types of mushrooms. She turns to you just before she reaches the freezer, “can-can we get some sausages, please, oppa? I, uh, I’ve been wanting to eat sausages for a while”. “Of course we can, sweetie. Which type do you like?”, you ask. “The-the one with cheese in it, up there”, she shyly points to the top rack of the wall freezer. You get on your tippy toes and grab a pack, “is one pack enough?”. “Ye-yes, I’ll make sure to not eat it in one sitting”, she says.

She then takes a lap around the supermarket, visiting each aisle and getting at least 1 item from every rack: soap, shampoo, pads, skincare, instant noodles, dried pasta, cheese, ketchup, hot sauce, kimchi, ground beef, chicken thi—“oppa”, she calls out to you as you’re inspecting her trolley, “I’m sorry”. “Excuse me?”, you say, unsure of what she’s sorry for. She looks down in timidity and points at the trolley full of stuff, “y-you said I could buy whatever I need and want, s-so I did”. “Oh”, you say, finally catching on to what she was sorry for, “it’s fine, I swear. It physically hurt me to see your empty pantry so I’m glad that I can help you fill it—come, let’s pay for these things and go home”. You push the trolley for Suyeon, and she wraps an arm around yours as you walk to the cashier. Suyeon covers her eyes as the cashier scans each item, probably feeling embarrassed of how many things she’s put in there. “That will be ₩48.600, sir”, the cashier says, and you hand him your card to pay. You notice that Suyeon is looking down at her shoes, so you grab her chin and turn her face towards you. “It’s okay”, you mouth to her with a smile, and Suyeon nods in response.

-

You and Suyeon carry one box each, as you make your way back to her apartment. Suyeon’s door makes a beep with every number she presses, until it makes a buzzing sound and unlocks. “Welcome back, oppa. Oh my God, my apartment is squeaky clean. I wonder who cleaned it”, she says with a dramatic voice. You laugh hearing her say that, “yeah, I wonder who did that? Must be someone important to you”. Both of you put down the boxes on the dining table, and Suyeon turns to you. “You are important to me, oppa”, she says before pulling you into a kiss. You try to break the kiss, but Suyeon chases you and kisses you harder.

“Oppa”, she says after finally breaking the kiss, “thank you for being here. You have no idea how thankful I am”. You muster up the bravery to confess to her, “I, um, I think I like you—I understand that this is not the time for that yet, but—”. Suyeon interrupts you by placing a finger on your lips. “If this isn’t the time, then I don’t know when is. I like you too, oppa”, she says with a smile. You return her smile with one of tenderness and promise her that you’ll protect her from harm in any shape or form; “I can’t stand seeing you be so sad, sweetheart. I want to draw smiles and laughs on your face”. Her eyes are glassy from unreleased tears, “I’ve been smiling and laughing a lot today, oppa. I’d say you’re doing a great job on your first day of being mine”. You blink rapidly in confusion, “do you want to run that by me again?”. “Ah, I should’ve asked first”, she slaps her forehead, “will you be my boyfriend, oppa?”. You chuckle, “will you be my girlfriend, Suyeon-ah?”. “Only if you promise to be my boyfriend and call me sweetheart all the time”, she says as the dam in her eyes finally breaks.

Love confessions usually end with a kiss and sex (at least that’s what they show on TV), but yours ends with both parties crying while hugging tightly. “Suyeon-ie must be tired of crying”, you think to yourself. You break the hug and wipe the tears off her cheek. “I love you, baby, but seeing you cry pains my heart”, you say to her. “If I get to be this happy all the time, I’ll cry until my eyes are dry, oppa—that’s a good trade in my opinion, and I’m sure you understand”, she utters, her forehead pressed against your chest.

Your roaming eyes eventually land on the boxes full of groceries, and you want to use them as an excuse so you can go up for air. “Baby, we need to put those things where they belong. Let’s continue this later, okay?”, you persuade her. Suyeon unwraps her arms ever so slowly, “but how can I express my love if we’re not touching, oppa?”. You take her hand and place it on your chest, “your love is locked tight here, honey. I’ll never forget your love”. “That’s sweet”, she comments, “okay, let’s unpack these bitches”. “Whoa, whoa, pause”, you say, “bitches? Seriously?”. Your question shorts her brain, “o-oh, uh, I meant to say boxes—sorry, oppa”. “Let’s not use such malicious term again, okay, baby?”, you peck her on the forehead after stating your request.

“Oppa, can we listen to some music?”, she asks as she fishes out some pads from the box. You chuckle, “I’m going to judge your music taste, though”. Suyeon scoffs in response, “oh, please, I know my stuff”. She runs to her phone, and you instantly hear a familiar melody playing over the speakers under her TV. “Oh, God, not this song again”, you say to yourself.

Be my only one

이렇게 부르고 싶은 이름 내 곁에 (The name I want to call you by)

손을 잡고서 같이 걸어요 (Let’s hold hands and walk along)

비가 오는 밤에도, 외로웠던 낮에도 (On rainy nights, or on lonely daytimes)

그대 환한 빛깔을 내게 가득 칠해줘요 (Please color me with your shiny light)

내가 더 잘할게요, 이렇게 같이 있어준다면 (I’ll do better, if you stay with me like this)

You drop what you’re doing and turn to Suyeon, who is staring at her phone blankly. “Are you o—“, Suyeon interrupts your question with one of her own, “do you know how long I’ve wished I had someone by my side, oppa? Someone who doesn’t hate me but instead loves me, or wishes me nothing but the best, or-or-or—God fucking damn it, where have you been all this time, oppa? Where were you when I spent all night crying because I was so fucking tired of doing these dumbasses’ shit? Where were you when they surrounded me and called me a useless fucking bitch because I wouldn’t give them my notes? Where-where were you when Naeun-ie slapped me after class? Where on earth were you, oppa? Why weren’t you protecting me?”. Suyeon drops to her knees and starts breaking down in tears as she recounts the terrible memories and the pain they have caused.

You rush to Suyeon and hug her, offering the comfort that she desperately needs at the moment. “I’m so sorry, baby; I’m sorry I wasn’t by your side when you needed it most, but I’m here right now—I’m here for you”, you say while trying your hardest to stay solid for Suyeon. You let Suyeon cry to her heart’s content in your arms while you whisper to her ear things such as “it’s okay”, “they can’t hurt you anymore”, and “I’m here for you”. Deep inside, you promise that you’ll devote yourself to helping victims of bullying instead of wasting time fighting the bad guys. “This is my last time, Jisung-ah—I promise”, you say in your head.

“Jungwoo-oppa”, Suyeon says with trembling voice, “I know I’m pitiful and all that, but please don’t say you love me because of pity—I want to be loved with pure intentions, oppa”. “Pity led me to fighting that asshole, but it was my heart that led me to falling for you”, you say to her. “Respectfully, sweetheart, I think you’re beautiful and attractive”, you double down on the confession from earlier. Suyeon pushes you away, her mouth is open in delight and surprise, “aww really? You think I’m beautiful, oppa? You’re not lying, are you?”. You shake your head, “I think you’re beautiful, baby—again, respectfully”. Suyeon wipes her tears and chuckles, “you can stop saying respectfully, oppa. I don’t find your words to be offensive or demeaning—in fact, I like hearing you say that I’m beautiful, honey”. You grin widely, “baby, can you keep calling me that? It makes me, um, feel loved—you don’t have to, though; you can call me oppa if you want”. “You’re my boyfriend, honey, not someone who’s simply older than me”, she laughs, “I’ll use other pet names if you don’t mind”.

You pull her up to her feet so that you can continue unpacking the boxes, but apparently Suyeon has a different idea: “I want to have sex, oppa. I want to consummate our relationship”. You pat your pockets and feel that they’re empty, “I don’t have condoms with me, honey”. She shrugs, “I don’t see the problem. I’ve been taking pills anyway—look at me, I’ve been taking pills even though I was single; kinda sad, don’t you think?”. “Can I ask where you want to have sex at?”, you ask her. She puts on a confused face, “why, in bed, of course—what kind of question is that, oppa? I’m not some cheap girl who has sex anywhere, you know”.

You apologize for the dumb question and carry her to the bedroom as she wishes. “Take off your clothes, oppa; I want to watch”, she requests. You set her dead center on the bed (it’s a twin bed) and stand in the empty space in her bedroom. She drops her jaw in surprise when she sees your muscles; “my goodness, no wonder those brats didn’t stand a chance against you—that chocolate abs are hot, by the way”. “You can thank Jung Jisung for that; he was the one who convinced me to get fit”, you tell her as you take off your jeans, revealing the bulged boxers. Suyeon bites her fingers in nervousness as her eyes are locked on your crotch. “Oh my fucking God”, she gasps, “there’s no way you’re that big—anyway, my turn now”.

Suyeon stands in front of you and pull her T-shirt over her head, showing you her perfect-sized tits. She slaps your hand away when you try touching her tits, telling you to be patient. She proceeds to pull down her jeans and panties, and you see that her pussy is clean shaven, looking mega tempting. “Now I can confidently say that I shaved for my boyfriend”, she says, “what do we do now, my dear boyfriend?”.

You lie down on Suyeon’s bed and tell her to sit on your face, and she praises you for “such a brilliant idea”. She sets her thighs on both sides of your face, her pussy hanging low above your mouth. You pull her down by her thighs and instantly start working on her pussy with your mouth and tongue. Suyeon is moaning and jerking around as you keep stimulating her; “baby, that’s so good”, she says. One particular lick from you causes her to jolt and scream, so you use your big hands to hold her down, “stop moving around, will you?”. “I-I’m sorry—God, I’m so close already”, she announces that she’s almost there, so you pick up your pace and keep sucking and licking until her valves break open.

“I’M CUMMING!”, she shrieks, drenching your face in her juice as she tumbles backwards on your body. She weakly rolls over onto the bed, “I haven’t cummed that hard in so long. Thank you, baby”. “Don’t thank me yet; we’re far from done”, you tell her. “Oppa, I want to suck your cock but I don’t have the energy to get up. I’ll just lie down and have you do the work”, she says.

You respond by getting off the bed and pull Suyeon towards you until her head hangs off the edge, aiming to fuck her throat. As soon as Suyeon opens her mouth, you plunge into it right away. You patiently move your cock forwards and backwards in her mouth to warm her up. You groan in bliss when you feel Suyeon’s tongue lapping the underside of your cock, “fuck, that’s a good girl”. You can’t see her face since your cock is blocking the view, but you’d like to think she gave you a wink for the compliment.

You want to turn it up a notch as your patience has evaporated away but you don’t want to go too hard just yet, so you tell her about your intention by pushing deep past her mouth and into her throat. “You don’t gag? That’s a good girl”, you repeat the praise from earlier. As if seeing the green light, you keep fucking her mouth deep but slowly until you think that she’s ready to take a proper throat fuck. The way your cock makes her throat bulge is very arousing, “my cock is in your throat, love”. She taps your thighs repeatedly after a few thrusts, so you pull out to see if she wants to have a break. “I want your cum in my stomach, oppa—you know what to do, right?”, she tells you.

You tell her that you want to give her a throat fuck and Suyeon nods in agreement, so you go back in her mouth and go deep right away. “I hope you’re ready”, you say to her. You plant your hands on the bed and start fucking mouth fast like it was her pussy, but you still hear no gag; “very impressive, baby”, you think to yourself. You keep fucking her and bulging her throat and you wish you could keep going until the sun rises again, but orgasm is already at the door. So, you fuck her with the last drops of fuel you have in your cock and stuff your cock into her throat before blowing your first load, sending it right into her stomach.

After you’ve released all the cum you have, you retreat from her wet mouth, and you hear her gasp sharply. “I thought I was going to die, oppa”, she says, “that was the first time I’ve had my throat fucked like that”. “Sorry, I know this is your private matter, but can I ask how many guys you have had sex with?”, you ask. “You’re my second, babe”, she says, “but believe me when I say that I wish you had been my first, because that guy was an asshole—his dick didn’t compare to yours, by the way. What about you? How many girls have been lucky to have your cock?”. “One girl before you, sorry”, you scratch the back of your head apologetically. “Eh, just one, that’s fine. I would cry if you said you’ve had a dozen”, she says before repositioning herself on the bed. She then eyes your cock that is still hard and erect and points at it, “I believe we aren’t done yet”. You backtrack to her previous comment before joining her in bed, “I hadn’t been attractive at all until I met Jung Jisung; there was no way I could’ve had a dozen girls before you, love”.

“That’s enough talk, oppa. Come here and make love to me, please”, she says. You join her in bed and get on top, “you’re so pretty, baby”. She blushes hearing you say it, “thank you for being so kind all the time, oppa. I-I love you”. You smile as you aim your cock at her entrance, “I’ll show you how much I love you”. You start moving forward into Suyeon’s warm and tight pussy, earning a soft moan from her. “You’re so tight, love”, you comment, basking in the sensation. “Ah, hah—only for you, oppa—fu-fuck, so big”, she replies. Hearing her praise your size fuels the fire of lust in your head and with it, you pick up the pace and fuck her faster, making her moan and scream in the process.

You keep up the tempo until you hear an oddly loud scream from her; “I’M CUMMING AGAIN—FUCK!”. You stop your pumps and pray to God that her room is somewhat soundproofed, because it’d be very awkward if her neighbor called the police on you for this. She twists and turns as the high of orgasm shorts her body and mind, and you patiently wait without pulling out, taking the time to sort out your breaths. “Oppa, oppa”, she calls out with her eyes closed, “you’re so good to me—so fucking good”. “You’re so good too, love; you’re so fucking tight”, you praise her. “I’m just me, oppa; it’s you that’s just so big”, she pulls you down towards her, “can I have your cum again?”. You nod and start fucking her again while maintaining the hugging position.

“I’m so close, love. Where do you want it?”, you ask her. “Ah, ah, hah—w-which part of I’ve been taking pills d-did—oh, fuck me—did you not un-derstand, oppa?”, she says. You release your cum into her pussy with a deep groan, and the warmth of your cum makes her let out a long moan. “No, stay”, she says when you try to pull out, “you would’ve made me pregnant if I wasn’t on pills”. “It—hah, God—it would be reckless to make you pregnant”, you reply. “Don’t worry, oppa; I’ll make sure I don’t lose my perfect physique during pregnancy”, she says with a giggle. You chuckle, “maybe we’ll get you pregnant one day, but that day isn’t today, love”.

You retreat from her pussy the moment she unwraps her legs from around your waist, and your cum instantly leaks out onto the bed. “Glad it’s still as thick; I would hate to disappoint”, you say as you inspect the result of your work. “Can I have a taste, oppa? You sent that first straight to my belly and I couldn’t taste it”, Suyeon says. You slather your index finger with your cum and bring it to her mouth; “mm, salty. I like it”, she comments.

-

“Oppa, I love you”, she says, seemingly out of nowhere during the cuddle, “stay with me, okay?”. You peck the top of her head, “I’ll stay with you and protect you until you’re sick of me, love”. She laughs out loud, “how can I be sick of you, oppa? You’re kind, you’re handsome, and you have a big cock; that’s everything a girl ever wants from her partner—promise me to not be violent again, though. As much as I think Lee Taewon deserved it, I hated that you resorted to that”. You sigh as you think about the memory from earlier, “I’m sorry that you had to see that, love. I promise I’ll work on it, okay? Let’s get some sleep now”.

Instead of closing her eyes to go to bed, Suyeon jumps off the bed and makes to leave the bedroom instead, “no, I need to study. Thanks for the sex, oppa, it’ll help me focus”. You follow her out of the bedroom and see that she’s already sitting at the dining table with a laptop in front of her, “you’re not going to put anything on?”. “No, I want some more after this”, she says with a wink.

“Who would’ve thought someone who had been in such a terrible situation would turn out to be such a sex bomb?”, you think to yourself, “I guess bullying does mess up people’s head more than I knew”.

[hotchs-big-hands]

dbf & corruption link Hotch with plus-sized reader who didn’t think he would ever be interested in HER and is so naive about it omfg the gif u reposted fuckkk I can’t stop thinking about it

YEAHHHH YOU GET IT

Okay I didn't realise I was gonna turn this into a whole fic JWFJEKFKDKFKRK (I'm writing this midway through the fic rn whoops 🫣)

Reader is early 20s and lives at home with her dad. I cba writing too much abt it in the plot sorry lol

Dbf!Aaron Hotchner x plus-size fem!reader|Minors dni NSFW|5.9K words

Warning(s): SMUT, Corruption kink, fingerfucking, sir/daddy kink 👀, almost getting caught

(d/n) = dad's name

It wasn't often you met your dad's friends, they only really managed a few meet ups a year with how busy people's lives were these days. And so when your dad approached you to inform you he was attending a meal out with said friends you were happy for him. But you didn't expect him to offer you to join him.

"My buddies have been wondering how you're getting on," he had said, standing in the doorway of your bedroom. "You should come along, sunny. The guys are bringing along their partners but eh, you know me. As big of a bachelor as one can be."

You rolled your eyes with a chuckle, but within your stomach you felt it coiling with anxiety. And you knew he could tell from the change of expression on his face.

"Hey... you don't actually have to come along if you're not comfortable. I know you don't really, uh, enjoy these sorts of things."

"No, no! I'll come along. Um, I just don't really remember any of your friends by name." You said quickly. He chuckled and shook his head, and you knew if he was closer he would have ruffled your hair affectionately.

"Fair enough, sunny. That's a relief actually, given that I already booked for you to come along as well."

With a gasp, you thumped your dad lightly.

"Dude!" You cried, making him laugh and step back a little.

"Well, we're aiming to meet up around seven tonight so be sure to be ready by half six." He grinned at you and you felt yourself returning the expression. It was nice seeing your dad looking a lot happier these days.

By the time you were dressed up ready for the meal that night you were inwardly panicking. Had you overdressed? Underdressed? Why did it even matter what his friends thought? Oh god, having to eat in front of his friends?! Needless to say, you were an absolute mess. Your dad grabbed one of your hands to squeeze it comfortingly as the two of you sat in the back of a taxi on the way to the restaurant and your lips curled up slightly in appreciation. It would be okay. There was no need to panic.

The ride was all too short to calm your nerves and at this point you felt jittery. It was too late to back out now though, and you quickly climbed out of the taxi when your dad walked around to open your door for you, mumbling a quick thanks and smoothing out the skirt of your pretty dress. You hadn't gone with anything flashy, opting to wear a mid-thigh length white dress that was covered in tiny blue flowers with a dropped neckline, some pretty knee-high socks and white sneakers. It made you feel good, your large curves complimented your outfit and you felt less inclined to shy away right now. With a quick adjustment of the strap of your bag, you followed your dad into the restaurant.

Oh... it was certainly more posh than you anticipated. Had your dad's friends always been this fancy?! Those coils of anxiety only tightened more as your dad spoke to the waiter about the booking. And then you were both escorted to a large table where six other people were already seated.

"Well look who it is! (D/n), you're looking well!" One of the men exclaimed cheerfully. You vaguely recognised the faces around the table, but not enough to know them by name. The man's eyes flicked to you and his eyes widened. "Goodness! Is that your little one?! You're all grown up!"

Your cheeks felt hot as you quickly sat down beside your dad, smiling shyly at the outspoken friend.

"Yeah, it's me. I don't think you guys have seen me since I was... eleven?" You conversed quietly. One of the wives of a different friend leaned forward, eyes sparkling.

"You look gorgeous, sweetie!"

Beside you, your dad could feel you trembling slightly and chuckled, waving his friends off.

"Alright, alright let the girl be."

As the attention drifted from you and the conversations changed to the mundane of friends catching up after a long time, your eyes drifted around the table. Your brows slightly pulled together. There was an empty seat next to you on your left. You gently nudged your dad, who turned to you.

"What's up, sunny?" He asked quietly. You offered a quick smile of reassurance.

"Um, is there meant to be someone else here?"

His eyes flicked to the empty chair, then back to you.

"Ohhh right yes! You remember Mr Hotchner, right? He's running a little late but he should be here soon."

No, you didn't quite remember Mr Hotchner. It had been years since you'd heard anything surrounding that name. All you knew was he had a very involved job that took him all over the country. As you sat deep in thought your dad's voice cut through as he made a humming noise, mouth full of beer. You glanced at him, noting he was looking over your shoulder at someone. But before you could turn you heard the chair next to you slide on the polished floor and shuffle as someone sat down in it. A wave of an alluring cologne flooded your senses and you slowly turned back to facing the table, heart racing. Then you heard him.

"I'm sorry I'm late, we just got back from a case. Barely had time to freshen up at home before coming here." Mr Hotchner spoke smoothly, voice deep and sensually gentle. You dared to glance next to you and you clenched your pillowy thighs together. Fucking christ, he was sexy! With the corner of his mouth turned upwards, the man oozed assurance and control as he greeted his friends around the table. Your eyes couldn't stop wandering over his features, the scattered beauty marks on his mature skin, the eyebags under his dark eyes, the prominent slope of his nose that you quickly had to move on from to not let your mind wander too much... His hair was short with a few stray wisps flopping onto his forehead and you could have sworn you could spot a few streaks of grey in it too.

And then he turned to look at you and your father. He raised a brow, feigning surprise.

"Oh hello, Mr (L/n). It's been a very long time since I saw you last. And this must be..." his eyes drifted to you, his lips twitching.

"(Y/n), sir." You managed to say, feeling hot and flustered. You dad chortled.

"My lovely sunny is here to humor her old man! Don't spook her."

"Spook me?" You squeaked. Mr Hotchner chuckled and shook his head.

"He's referring to me profiling people as part of my job. It tends to freak people out." He explained to you in that delicious voice of his. "And please, call me Aaron. Calling me sir makes me feel old."

Aaron didn't look even the slightest bit annoyed, his smirk only growing as his eyes travelled up and down your figure. You shivered.

"I- I see... Could you tell me more about this, um, profiling stuff? I don't really know what you do for a living." You admitted. Aaron had ordered a bourbon, taking hold of the glass and sipping some of the deep orange coloured liquid and setting the glass down again.

"Oh? Well, seeing as you're curious..."

You barely remembered the meal you had ordered, more engrossed in the conversation you were having with this man. He was so fascinating, passionate and when the topic of his son came up his smile softened and he pulled his wallet out to show you a photo of the cute boy. That... hm. You didn't want to think about the fact that he had already been through something as involved as having a child with someone. There was no place for you to be thinking about this man any more than a daughter of his best friend should.

But here you were, spending the night chatting to the man effortlessly whilst your heart fluttered. It was only when your dad tapped you on the shoulder that you realised the evening was coming to an end.

"Hey sunny, I know you're having a great chat with Aaron there but it's time to get going." He said with a chuckle. Your eyes widened slightly and you scowled, shoving him with your shoulder.

"Say less dad, I beg." You shot back quickly, cheeks flushing as you followed along with him pushing away from the table and standing up. Your hands smoothed out your dress, making sure all was in place again and you shuffled closer to standing next to your dad. It was when Aaron rose up slowly from his own seat with an air of grace that you realised you had to crane your neck a bit to look him in the face. The corner of his mouth twitched at the slight widening of your eyes when he straightened up and you dipped your head quickly.

"Don't worry, I'll be sure to try see you again. Although, I'm not certain on when that would be." He spoke, eyes focused on you. Your dad reached forward to shake his hand, seemingly oblivious to what was happening.

"Whenever you're back in town Aaron, you're free to come visit, my pleasure." He shook firmly, but Aaron was barely focussed. With an unwavering eye contact, his smirk widened. You could feel your legs trembling slightly under his fiery gaze.

"Oh, the pleasure is mine."

When their hands dropped, Aaron turned to you and offered to shake your hand as well, his hand smothering yours when you hesitantly reached out to take it. He gazed down at you, his thick lashes framing his gorgeous brown eyes.

"Until next time, (Y/n)." He said quietly and then turned around and walked away. Your dad raised a brow at you as you watched the older man retreat but merely chuckled once under his breath.

"Come on you, taxi's on its way." Your dad pulled you from your daze and you blinked, cheeks feeling warm for being caught staring. With a huff, you slapped your dad's shoulder when you noticed the growing grin on his face.

"Yeah, yeah. Shut up."

Over the next couple months, you saw Aaron briefly as he passed by in between cases. Each time, no matter for how short of a time, he would stop to chat and get to know you a little more. And every time you felt your crush grow stronger and stronger. But suddenly, he stopped showing up. You never heard from him, not a peep. Humiliatingly, when you idly asked your father if he had heard from the man he showed you the communications he had had from the last time Aaron had been in town to now. To say the least it left you feeling crushed and stupid.

Another month flew by after that before you saw Mr Hotchner again. For the first couple weeks you were secretly hopeful he would show up again, checking up every time you returned from work. But he never showed. And it... well, it didn't feel good to miss someone you had only met properly once and had a couple smaller conversations after that with. Maybe he knew you had a stupid crush on him and was put off from showing up. He had no reason to want someone like you, after all. By the sixth week since you'd seen the man last you'd forced yourself to move on from being hopeful.

And then when you returned home from work one evening you noticed an unfamiliar car parked at the end of the driveway. Tired, you paid it no mind and trudged up to the front door and let yourself in with your key. You shuffled into the house and locked the door behind you, then made a move to enter the living room.

"Hey, dad? I'm home." You called out. There was a scuffle of feet and the very same man appeared with a grin.

"Ah, there you are! We have a guest over, as you probably could tell." He said cheerily and you chuckled.

"Mhm, well I'll just go and change upstairs. Be back in a sec."

With a ruffle of your hair from your dad, you rushed upstairs and decided to take a shower to wash the exhaustion of the day away. After you'd dumped your bag on your bed, you grabbed your towel and a fresh set of lounging clothes to lay out on your bed and made your way to the bathroom which was down the hall. Avoiding looking in the large vanity mirror, you stripped and stepped under the warm water of the shower once you'd switched it on.

"Mmh.." you groaned as the water sprayed down your achy muscles. For a moment, you simply stood there with your eyes closed as you basked in the soothing sensation. A moment later you lathered your plush body with your favourite soaps, taking care to glide your hands over your every curve. Idly, you thought of him, of those hands of his. You switched the water to cold.

Feeling clean and relaxed, you stepped out of the shower and wrapped your towel around yourself. Now all there was to do was return to your bedroom. As you crossed the hall, you heard the tap of footsteps making their way up the staircase. As sneakily as you could, you peeked to see who was ascending and a little squeak escaped you against your will. Still just as devastatingly handsome as the last time you saw him, Mr Hotchner was gaining closer and closer to your location and with a quick jump of action you scurried the rest of the way to your room and all but slammed your door shut.

Your chest heaved, adrenaline pumped through you and shakily you towelled yourself off and redressed in the fresh clothing. Maybe it was better if you changed, you thought as you looked down at the slightly more fitted tank top and shorts you were sporting now.

"No, don't be ridiculous." You mumbled to yourself and after hanging your towel up to dry you forced your legs to move towards your bedroom door and back out to the hallway. It was when you made it to the top of the stairs he called out to you.

"Oh, (Y/n). I'm sorry, I didn't realise you were exiting the bathroom earlier." Aaron said smoothly, startling you to spin on your axel towards him. Shit, had he seen you?!

"Um, it's fine. No harm done." You mumbled in response, shifting your weight from one hip to the other under his dark gaze. His brow twitched.

"Right."

Much to your dismay, he was by your side quicker than you realised and the two of you descended down to find your dad. With every step, the back of Aaron's hand would brush against the side of your arm accidentally, causing goosebumps to spring up across your skin. What were you to say to this man now?

"It's...it's been a while since you were last in town." You said finally, internally wincing and wishing you'd stayed quiet. The man beside you hummed.

"Had an onslaught of back-to-back cases. This is the first time my team and I have been able to catch a break. And... well, we won't get into it just yet." Aaron responded, his exhaustion barely suppressed behind his words. You wanted answers, to know why he showed up now or all times. Of what he wouldn't get into. Instead, you made a barely audible noise in response.

Glancing at the man you realised he was full on frowning now and you cleared your throat, chest aching.

"Oh! I see you found her then, huh?" The sound of your dad's voice startled you and you quickly stepped away from the older man beside you. Rounding the corner, your dad appeared wearing a jacket and shoes over his clothes, confusing you.

"Dad? Where are you going?" You asked.

"Just going to the store to grab some food."

Aaron frowned and stepped forward, stuffing his hand into his pocket to grab his wallet.

"Here, let me head to the store or at least pay for the inconvenience." He said but your dad huffed and straightened out his jacket.

"No, you're our guest, Aaron. Now grab yourself a drink and relax, buddy."

Shaking his head but smiling, Aaron reluctantly stuffed his wallet away and raised his hands in defeat.

"Next time is on me, (D/n)."

"Deal." Your dad grinned, then he shifted his focus to you. "You be a good host now, got it?"

You grimaced.

"I mean I don't mind going, he's here to see you anyway so.."

"Nonsense, I'm here to visit both of you." The man beside you said, of which your dad chuckled.

"Well there you go, he said it himself. Now I'm going out so we're not waiting too late having dinner."

You scoffed at his words but inwardly your heart was pounding. He was seriously leaving you home alone with Mr Hotchner?! Your eyes flitted to the man, who was seemingly paying attention to your father as he moved towards the front door. It was only when you heard the slam of the door that it truly sunk in; you were home alone with the man you'd grown an embarrassingly big crush on while simultaneously feeling an unjustified anger towards.

On shaky legs, you shuffled towards the kitchen to grab a drink and calm your nerves. Just as you grabbed a glass from the cupboard he spoke.

"Are you alright?" Aaron's voice startled you once again and automatically your hand let go of the glass cup, a crash following as it smashed into glistening, sharp shards. You'd barely gasped when Aaron appeared crouched before you, picking larger shards up immediately.

"I'm sorry." He uttered, snapping you out of your startled trance. You crouched down as well as you shook your head vigorously.

"No, it's okay. It's my fault-"

You looked up and froze, realising your faces were far closer than you'd anticipated. He was frowning, then he straightened up rapidly to dump the shards of glass in his hands in the trashcan.

"Please, leave the clean up to me. I was the one who startled you. Besides, you haven't got shoes on right now. So, can you hop up on the counter top?" He asked you, his tone more firm than you'd heard before. It made your lower lip jut out. You made a noise of acknowledgement, straightened up and braced your palms on the counter top behind you to help yourself onto it. Aaron had turned back to you by this point, a wash of satisfaction traced over his more alert expression at the sight of you safely away from the shards on the ground.

"Vacuum?" He simply said. You winced.

"O-oh.. um, it's in the storage under the staircase."

With a nod, Aaron swiftly left the room, his footsteps echoing through the house. God, could you feel anymore embarrassed than you did already in that moment? He had to clean up after you because you were incapable of functioning around him. You wished you had a crush on someone nearer your age, at least they wouldn't find you so childish as you suspected Aaron did. With your head hanging low you didn't even notice him re-enter the room, not until he padded towards you carefully and set the vacuum down.

"Hey... it's alright, just an accident. I didn't mean to scare you." He said softly. You sniffled and shook your head.

"S'fine. I'm okay." You mumbled. He paused for a moment, then placed a hand on your knee.

"I'll just quickly clean this mess up, alright sweetheart? I'll be with you as soon as I can."

Your head shot up at the pet name, wet eyes wide as you studied his face. The corner of his mouth twitched upwards, despite the concerned furrow in his brow.

"There you are. Just sit tight, don't want any glass to hurt you."

You watched as Aaron set up the vacuum cleaner and, crouched again, he hastily but thoroughly removed the debris from the floor. When he was satisfied, he unplugged the machine and lifted it up, the muscles in his arms bulging in his neat dress shirt. Your eyes followed him, but dropped away when he glanced your way.

"Um thanks, Mr Hotchner." You uttered and made a move to slide off the counter top. And then one of his long legs pressed against your shin, willing you to stay in place.

"Ah, ah, ah wait there." He muttered.

You quivered and shuffled back onto the counter top properly. What on earth..? You watched him leave again, swinging your legs nervously. Surely he had got rid of all the glass, right? You were unable to ponder for long when Aaron returned again, eyes on you as he approached. Your brows creased.

"Um I'm sure I can move, right? You got all the glass."

He hummed, stopping in front of you now, gaze still unwavering.

"Can't be too careful now, can we?" He said with a little smirk. You swallowed thickly.

"I..."

"May I talk to you about something?"

Your eyes trailed over his face, noting on an emotion you hadn't spotted upon first inspection. Slowly, you shook your head.

"Um yes, you can, Mr Hotchner."

He puffed air out of his nose.

"You don't need to be so formal with me, (Y/n)."

You dropped your gaze.

"Sorry, can't help it." You managed to say, feeling shy and silly. He leaned one hip against the counter beside you, crossing his arms against his broad chest.

"Don't apologise, sweetheart." He shifted his weight, now a little closer still to you. His scent enveloped you, it was soothing. "I... wanted to apologise for disappearing for a long time." He finally said. You shuddered.

"Um, it's okay-"

The sound of him clearing his throat silenced you and rendered you unable to do anything more than stare wide-eyed at him. He hummed and raised a brow.

"Sweetheart, you do know I can tell when someone is lying, right?"

Fuck.

"Mr Hotchner, sir I- I'm not lying, It's okay-"

Aaron moved suddenly, caging you in by placing his hands either side of your wide, plump hips and stared you down.

"Tsk. Don't be naughty by doubling down on lying." He gazed through his thick lashes now, leaning his face closer to yours. His scent overwhelmed you now and you bit back a whimper. "Come now, I upset you and I want to make things right."

You squeezed your eyes shut and gripped onto your shorts tightly, balling the fabric up in your tight fits.

"F-fine. I just... why did you stop visiting all of a sudden?" You wrinkled your nose a little and huffed. "God, I sound like a fucking weird-"

"No. Allow me to explain."

You exhaled quietly, not expecting him to cut you off like that. He sighed and lifted his hands up to rub his face.

"I... well, I had to distance myself from you. Not because I don't enjoy seeing you, it's more the opposite. I have feelings for you which I most certainly should not have, not as a friend of your father." He said, fumbling his thumb and pointer finger together.

You froze.

Was this really happening? Your heart felt like it was racing, your stomach coiling as you stared at him.

"I- Mr Hotchner, you..."

Aaron grimaced and shifted his weight, ready to step back from you.

"I'm sorry for making you uncomfortable. I knew this was a bad idea to tell you, but I just thought you should know why I had started avoiding you." He said sincerely, then dropped his arms and turned his body.

You didn't know why you did it, but your hand shot out and you grabbed his shirt.

"-No! Don't- don't go!"

Aaron's breath hitched from your outburst, but he also didn't try to pull away from your touch either.

"(Y/n)..."

You felt warm, dropping your gaze whilst your fingers messed with the expensive fabric of his shirt.

"I- I don't want you to leave. You didn't make me uncomfortable." You mumbled. The man waited for you to continue speaking as you opened your mouth and closed it a few times. "I, um, I just wasn't expecting you to say you were interested in me."

Your eyes flicked to his face and you sucked your lower lip between your teeth at the furrowed expression on his face.

"You thought I wasn't interested in you?" Aaron's brows raised and he stepped a little closer towards you. "Sweetheart, I don't tend to talk to people outside of my close circle much at all, and, admittedly, I don't often visit people very often. But I just had to see you again."

His confession made you feel strange in a way you couldn't pinpoint on. Not necessarily bad, but a little unsure. Your eyes met his beautiful dark brown ones.

"Mr Hotchner, I don't see why you-"

"Call me that one more time and you'll be calling me sir instead." He cut you off sternly and you gasped. His left hand moved to rest on the counter just barely brushing against the outer side of your thigh and he leaned towards you, his face almost close enough for the two of you to kiss.

"I want you, sweetheart. I've spent the last few months trying to clear you from my thoughts," He paused to let out a small sigh. "However, you remain embedded within the foundations of my mind and I've come to accept this wholly. But just tell me if you don't want this and I will never bring this to you again, I promise."

Your eyes trailed over his face, tracing the creases and lines of age and you longed to feel them under your fingertips. You grabbed onto his arm.

"I-I want this... please. I haven't been able to stop thinking about you too." You confessed with a shy smile. Aaron chuckled through an exhale of relief and he began to close the gap between your lips and his.

"I was hoping you'd say that."

Desperately, you pressed your lips to his and moved your hands to grip onto his broad shoulders. Responding to you, Aaron's hands moved to grab onto the squish of your hips, digging into them as he pulled you ever closer towards him. Now chest to chest, you whined against his mouth and instinctively, your legs parted enough for him to slip between.

All too soon, you parted for oxygen, your chest heaving and straining under your lounging tee. Aaron brushed his nose against yours sensually, his thumbs stroking your hips.

"I estimate your father will be gone for forty-five minutes at most." He murmured and you whimpered.

"Y-yes, maybe..."

"Sweet girl, I want to make sure you know how I feel, truly."

Your hands tightened their grip on the shirt.

"H-how?"

He chuckled, pressing a light kiss to your lips.

"If you'll let me, sweet girl, I want to pleasure you. We'll have to be quick though, at least this time round."

This time, this time. You felt light headed in the best way.

"W-what do you wanna do?" You hesitantly asked him. Aaron slid his hands to the expanse of your thighs with a hum.

"You don't know how much I wanted to slip my hand up your dress that night we met to touch your pretty pussy, sweetheart- "

"M-Mr Hotchner!" You squeaked, cheeks flushing from the dirty confession. A deep rumble reverberated through him and one of his hands lightly slapped your thigh. You jolted, but he held you in place.

"That's it, little girl. I don't want to hear any other title other than 'sir' from you now until I say so, is that clear?"

You nodded. Another slap, slightly closer to your inner thigh. You gasped out.

"Y-yes sir!"

Satisfied, Aaron hummed and grabbed onto your thighs and, with a hint of a smile, he pulled you closer to the edge and spread your legs wider. You yelped, hands grasping onto any part of him you could to steady yourself and he chuckled whilst pressing his lips to the corner of your mouth.

"Mhm, gonna let me take a look, sweetheart?" He murmured against your skin, fingers dancing along the waistband of your shorts. You whimpered.

"I-I-" Fuck, you didn't know what to even say. You'd done minimal things with others before, but they were underwhelming experiences and you preferred to close that chapter of your life. But here you were, sprawled out on the kitchen counter with your father's friend who was more than twice your age, trying to process what he had asked you.

Aaron brushed his nose against yours, bringing you from your racing thoughts.

"Aww, don't know what you want, sweet girl? It's alright, let daddy help you." He cooed. Almost immediately, your body spasmed with the way he addressed himself and he huffed out a quiet laugh. "You like that, huh? Like the thought of calling me daddy?"

You whimpered, hips rolling against his with need.

"Uh-huh, I do."

"Say it then, I want to hear it. Then I'll give you anything you want."

Your eyes widened at the commanding tone he used. Your pussy twitched.

"I- I do, daddy. Wanna call you daddy really badly."

"Mhmm.." Aaron pressed his lips to yours again and your hands gripped his shirt again. You could feel the prominent bulge in his pants against your clothed slit now, subconsciously grinding yourself against it. With a low growl, Aaron pulled his lips from yours sharply and his hands grasped your thighs to pin you in place. You whined, trying to push back and feel the friction against your pussy again.

"Behave, little girl. Now lift your butt up for me." He commanded you and, desperate for his touch, you propped yourself up on your elbows to raise your ass from the counter top. You vaguely heard him call you a good girl before he slipped his finger tips into the band of your shorts and, with a swift pull, he removed them. You squeaked, automatically closing your legs but Aaron growled, tugging your plush thighs apart again. Your chest heaved, arousal flaring within you as you realised he was staring directly at your panties. His mouth twitched.

"Pretty panties on such a pretty girl."

You whimpered when he let go of your right thigh to slide his thick fingers over a wet patch on the crotch of fabric. Your hips bucked, you hadn't realised just how pent up you were.

"D-daddy- please!" You pleaded and he cooed at you with a smirk.

"Want daddy to play with your little pussy, huh? We'll have to be quick if you wanna cum."

You nodded eagerly, grinding your hips against his fingers eagerly.

"Mmh- yes, sir!"

"Good girl. Hold your legs spread for me."

Hooking your hands underneath your knees, you trembled as Aaron moved his right hand to pull your panties to the side, revealing your slick, puffy pussy to him. He hummed in approval, ghosting his fingers over your folds and gathering some of your juices on the tips.

"You're so wet, sweetheart. Is this all for me?" He asked softly. You wiggled your hips a little.

"Y-yeah, daddy~ only for you..."

Aaron groaned as he parted your folds to reveal your hooded clit and dripping entrance.

"Next time I want to eat you out, sweet girl. You're fucking divine looking." He rumbled, swiping his thumb over your sensitive bundle of nerves. Your hips bucked immediately, Aaron hummed. "Gonna fingerfuck you this time, that sound nice, huh?"

"Mmmh, yeah daddy, need it!" You whimpered, at this point just desperate for anything. Aaron kissed you roughly, the sounds of both yours and his lips moving against one another made you squirm. But you gasped out when he slipped his thick middle finger into your entrance, taking you by surprise. And with a smug grunt, Aaron slid his tongue against yours to deepen the messy kiss. One finger became two, sliding in and out of your sopping wet hole and stretching you around the two digits.

The edge of his palm massaged your throbbing, little clit as he curled the fingers upwards inside you, searching for the spot that would have your toes curling. A sudden burning pleasure spread through your lower abdomen and you moaned against Aaron's mouth. You felt his lips curl into a smile, smug as he began to thrust the two fingers up inside you in an unbreaking movement. You heard it then, the messy, gushing sound of your pussy squelching in time with the rapid thrusts and you bucked up into it, feeling the burning pleasure begin to build up. You couldn't kiss back anymore, mouth fallen open now with every whimper and cry as the thrusts increased in speed. Aaron bit down onto your lower lip, then pulled away with a wet kiss.

"You're fucking clenching around daddy's fingers so well, sweetheart. You close, huh? You gonna cum for me?" He coaxed you, the hand that had originally been holding your panties to the side now pressed down on your plush stomach, leveraging his other hand's movement. You sobbed and writhed, eyes fluttering as you struggled to keep them open.

"G-gonna cu-um! Wanna cum, daddy!"

With a grunt, Aaron's fingers moved blindingly fast, your pussy's squelches echoing in the kitchen along with your wails. He pressed his lips to your neck.

"Fucking cum for me, sweetheart. Come on, that's a good girl. Cum." He growled at you. And as your pussy began to flutter and clench around his fingers he ripped them from your hole and instead brushed them over your almost neglected clit. It was almost instantaneous then, the arch of your back, the roll of your eyes, moaning brokenly as you cummed hard.

And then you heard the keys jingling in the lock of the front door.

"Fuck-" Aaron hissed, pulling his hand away and quickly grabbing your shorts so you could pull them back on again. You were shaking, struggling to pull the garment of clothing back on so you could slip off the counter top. You heard running water, spying Aaron washing his hands and when you met his gaze the two of you giggled, adrenaline pumping through your veins.

"G-go up to the bathroom!" You whispered, gesturing to the prominent bulge in his crotch area. He huffed, but grinned and pressed a quick kiss to your lips.

"We'll continue this another time, sweetheart." He whispered. He rushed off out of sight and, whilst on still shaky legs, you turned to wipe down the kitchen top just in time for your father to enter the room.

"Ah, you getting a head start with clearing up ready to eat?" Your dad greeted you and you bit your lip to hold back a giggle.

"Mhm, don't you know it."

Needless to say, Mr Hotchner ended up staying too late to drive home that night.

Not my best work I gotta say but 😔😔 hope yawl like it anyway SKSKSKSK

Gonna move the taglist to the comment section I think but yeah if you'd like to be tagged in future works lemme know!

[hyperfixat]

found this game in my steam wishlist 😭 i remember putting it in there and i forgot abt it for so long but i got around to playing it and !!! Okay!

So naturally, as one does, i decided to write a fic where u fucking kill yourself Obvious CW for suicide and overdosing on painkillers

(okay there’s kinda an open ending) anyway 1.2k words. GO.

You had no intention of winning your bet. Sure you taunt and tease the reaper, even before knowing who (rather what) he is, but you don’t intend on taking his soul. You wouldn’t even know how to take a soul if push came to shove.

It’s been an idle plan in your mind for years now. Suicide, that is. So when someone contacts you asking for your soul, you assume whatever god was overseeing you had a sick sense of humor.

Honestly, you think this “Grim Reaper” guy is planning on making a snuff film out of you. When you make your first call you think, this doesn't look like the type of guy to make snuff films. Hey, maybe he’s some rich pervert, using his fortune to prey on random people by installing spyware and stalking them before getting his rocks off to their death.

This false impression of Grim comes to a harsh end when he literally takes a stroll inside of you. And does stuff. You’re not quite sure what the hell that was about, but, again, this guy is either death incarnate or way richer than you had initially given him credit for.

You wonder if your ideas are graffitied on your soul, mindscape, wherever it was Grim ventured. It, this cosmically far away concept of the depression you have become, has been a shadow over your life. Surely it stained itself into your very being.

If there was any indication of that you’d like to think Grim would have mentioned the blight bleeding into you. But he doesn’t. So you don’t ask.

All too soon your week is coming to a close. You can’t lie to yourself and say you haven’t been falling for Casper (he had indulged you in his real name), but you’ve been looking for an excuse to do this for years and you won’t let someone you’ve known for less than a week hold you back.

Really you’re doing him a favor.

Maybe you should have done this sooner.

You are meant to be dead. Was it supposed to be by your own hands all along? Were you truly too much a coward until this very day to finally do it?

It’s cruel to leave your pet behind, but you hope they have it in them to forgive you. Grim seemed to think they were cute, hopefully he’ll agree to take care of them. You draft up a message to send to him before you trudge to your medicine cabinet. The value pack of 500 painkillers stares back at you, taunting.

No time like the present. You grab the bottle and take it to your kitchen, pouring a big cup of soda. You want to go out drinking your favorite drink and water is for losers. Popping the child safety lock off you pour out a handful of pills. How many would you have to take to get the job done, you wonder.

Well, it’s not like anyone else needs them, so you go handful by handful and down as much of the container as you can, before your stomach starts to ache. It’s likely the ache is from how full you are, but it could be your system beginning to realize something is wrong with your body, so you slide into your desk chair and open up the chatroom.

Grim is online. He’ll probably rush to your place. Out of excitement? Duty? Fear? Pity? There are too many possible outcomes, but you want to make sure the message gets sent, so you paste it into your chat bar, watching the line flickering at the end, prompting you to either send or type more.

Now your stomach is really starting to roll. You lean over and grab your trash bucket, holding it to your chest. Only when your burps start to taste like stale medicine do you hit the enter bar, sending the message.

Grim

What.

Grim

No

Grim

Don’t do it.

Grim

I’m coming over now.

Grim

KYS

Hm. That last message forces a chuckle out of you. Does he know what that means? An open contradiction; unless he’s gullible enough to believe it means Keep Yourself Safe.

Yeah, he definitely thinks it means keep yourself safe.

A bit late for that, though.

You have enough cognition to stumble forward and lock your window. A mere glass panel won’t stave death away, but hopefully you’ll have passed by the time Casper breaks it or breaks in through other means. You fall back into your spinning chair, and the momentum slides you halfway to your bed. That’s far enough away where you have a clear view of your window.

With glazed over eyes and a heavy slouch you watch as Casper flies up as if propelled by a very steep zipline. His eyes are wide and alert as he attempts to lift your window, a harsh contrast to your own.

He’s saying something but the window and your brain muffles it, probably telling you to let him in. Tough luck is what you’d tell him if your mouth wasn’t salivating so much. Casper bangs on your window at a frantic and fearful pace. Your emotions are swiftly changing.

You want to console him, hold him and tell him it’s alright. You know this is what you deserve, what’s been coming for you. Though it’s not in your best interest, you think your body is past the point of saving, not without some serious medical know how, so you stumble on deer legs to pop the lock open on the window.

Casper wastes no time in flinging it up and open.

“What have you done?” He’s all over you in an instant. Hands in your hair; hands on your face, peering into your dazed eyes, hands over your chest, hands feeling your abdomen. Casper looks distraught.

“It’s okay.” You reassure him, though your words sound oddly gurgle-y. “You win, it’s okay.”

“I don’t want to win. I forfeit, please, what have you done, tell me, I can fix this.” Casper speaks fast as if the haste with which he delivers his words will somehow fix you. His hands settle on either side of your face. “Look into my eyes, everything is going to be alright. I’m not upset, I’m not mad, please look into my eyes.” His words are like a mantra, and the desperation in his tone makes you compelled to follow his instructions.

The tears in his red eyes refract the light like rubies. You can’t imagine anything more beautiful.

“Can you imagine a bridge for me?” Casper’s hands are shaking against your face, the tremors get worse when you shake your head ‘no.’

“It’s okay.” You repeat yourself. “I love you, okay?” In another situation, far less serious than this, Casper would make fun of your excessive use of the word, but he barely notices.

“That’s alright, that’s alright, just keep looking into my eyes, got it?” Yes, you want to do that, Casper has the prettiest eyes. You wouldn‘t mind them being the last thing you see. That would be a lovely final view, you think.

They are.

the endings i thought of are:

one; you fucking die

two; casper establishes a soul mind link and gives you part of himself to keep your tethered to your body for long enough that you heal and you don’t die

[papil0nglegs]

What about the mercs with a fem SO that talks in brainrot sometimes? Would really want medic in there but it's up to you!

Mercs x Brainrot!Reader

A/n: WHY IS THE TF2 FANDOM SO OBSESSED WITH THIS IDEA? 😭 I SAW ANOTHER FIC ABT THIS AND TWO REQUESTS ASKING FOR THIS PLS

warnings: Brainrot.. a lot of images being used, it’s a shit post who cares tbh

Scout

He’s into it too

Guys it’s scout

“Scout ilysm ur so nonchalant <33”

“Thanks babe ^^ I know I’m pretty alpha”

(Oh btw the alpha thing isn’t a joke he unironically listens to alpha male podcasts)

In the middle of spy’s serious moments you’d both lip sync ‘you are my sunshine’ to each other when he’s not looking

“what the bloody hell are you guys doing..”

“…perhaps itz a coping mechanizm zince scout doesn’t have a father?”

Medic really had to take it there

The ‘fatherless child’ meme was a coping mechanism for him tho

“I’m a fatherless child, of course I have abandonment issues”

“Um babe? Idk if you should joke abt that 😚”

“Na it just makes me more sigma”

You guys love to fuck with the blu team sm with your shenanigans, esp sniper!!

Scout would have his bat and you would have whatever weapon you have with you and yell “skibidi” before jumping him

Here’s something he DEFINITELY didn’t learn from you 💯

creds to urwhouchoose2b on Tik tok

Engineer

He tries so hard to understand

Whenever you show him a meme he does the classic old person holding phone away from eyes thing

Yk the

“Ok so this is the ‘im nothing like y’all’ fish”

“alrighty, and this is..?”

“Oh that’s the Freddy five bear meme, see it’s funny cuz his name is actually ‘Freddy fazbear’ but they got his name wrong so like.. yeah”

“…I’m not sure what I’m ‘posed to say ‘bout this, but I think you belong in a looney bin”

Once he had a project that had the word “alpha” in it and he hated mentioning it to you cuz yk

“giggle”

“…what?”

“Skibidi alpha”

“What??”

Demo man

HE LOVES IT LMFAOO

he’s so energetic esp when he’s drunk so he’s happy to have someone he can share that energy with

Y’all know that “Scotland forever” meme

Well you screamed it after another victory as a joke, but when demo heard it he was confused but also excited?

“SCOTLAND FOREVAA”

“OH? ALRIGHT THEN, SCOTLAND FOREVER 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿”

cut to him butt chugging beers

Demo doesn’t get it but he has the spirit

He’ll be right there replicating the TikTok audios after taking the point

Dude is drunk 99% of the time so he’s never bothered to ask what any of this means, he’s just in it for the fun

Once you dragged him to the bathroom since he drake too many beers (shocker) but he didn’t want to do it in the toilet cuz he didn’t want to ‘hurt his dear skibidi’

“Cmon demo you have to puke it out!!”

“Noo, take me to the jawbox I don’t wanna hert me skibidi toilet”

“Oh god what have I done”

I think you rotted his brain a little too much

Spy

Don’t even get him started.

He’s so sick of your antics it’s not even funny

“Guys we all have to remember that it’s not about the money.. it’s about the skibidi.”

Passionately grabs spy’s shoulder

“How have you made it this far in life”

Unlike engie, he really doesn’t want to know about it

Especially during missions

“lol spy you’re so devious ASF”

“shhh, enough blabbering!!”

“You are not carti 😶‍🌫️😶‍🌫️❌‼️‼️‼️”

You make fun of him a bunch, he can’t think of a single moment where you took him seriously

“Y/n get off the cart!!”

“If we were in Fortnite I’d have higher ground + double pump.”

[possumdrawsstuff]

THAT SCAR REF SHEET I WAS TALKING ABT FOR JIM!

all of these r based off stuff that happened in canon, if you think I’ve missed any cool opportunities then feel free to point them out! I add them because I believe that while they probably couldn’t have been included in the show for the pg rating and some of the ways he would’ve gained them being somewhat violent (even for trollhunters). I feel they add to his character and in how they would grow over time show how he would gain more and more experience as a trollhunter, yet also gaining more and more pressure and experiences that are probably not the best on jim mentally.

(Ps. I have no lightning scars In my design because lichtenberg scars, while cool looking, don’t usually last)

(Ps ps, the model I used to plan them out is from sketch fab somewhere but as I had originally not made this to post I didn’t save it, if anybody knows the creator, or is the creator, feel free to hit me up and I’ll credit you in the post.

ANYWAY MOVING ON TO THE SCARS AND MY SILLY LITTLE REASONS FOR THEM BEING THEREEE!

This is prolly gonna be angsty but I have an angsty ao3 background (to whoever read my Peter Parker nwh fic yall know ,and I am sorry I haven’t updated lol)

face/ eyebrow scar: I love that they gave him a scar in the movie, however, I didn’t like how it looked very much, especially with how he got it. I mean ARRRGHHH! Literally punched him so hard (love him Frfr but bro was not messing around even w Jim) that stone on stone had enough force to scratch some off of his face, this is why I usually make it look messier and more like scratchy scars rather than the clean cut from wizards/the unspeakable movie

2. GOBLIN/GENERAL SCARS: ok y’all I haven’t seen many other people do these but they are ver important to me 😌. Just scars from sparring could be all of these, the heroes forge has literal flying axes like ?? and in earlier seasons he didn’t always have his armor on or have a helmet at his disposal so I think he would to have had to have been nicked pretty good at least once or twice. Then there’s the goblin scars, In my version they told Barbara that it was racoons that got him , but the idea is that for Jim to have landed in the hospital he must have been hurt pretty badly that night, so, I would imagine that even while facing nomura Jim was fighting against the effects of blood loss also.

3.Angor rot: if you couldn’t tell by the photo it doesn’t show up in this! HOWEVER in my silly little side project (I’m sure some of you can probably guess what it is and if you can’t, idk look at some of my reblogs and you’ll probably find it, BUT! because it takes place after canon (yes including the movie) but also has some crunchy plot twisting In the background, the angry rot man face thing (I cant remember the name of it right now for the life of me please) will show up whenever he comes near to Jim, even if time is messed up, angor rot is back and technically hasn’t died yet so yes Jim gets the spoopy glowy thing.

4.amulet scar: idk if anybody remembers but when the arcane order took Jim’s amulet, he got scars from it right? It can be seen on his beast design is all of the tendrils leeching out from the indent of the amulet, my thinking is if his human form also got scarred by ARRGHHH! Why didn’t this scar translate too? Then again it could’ve but Jim is obviously a big fan of blue jacket*tm* so we will never know, I think he did but idk 🤷‍♀️

5.Bellroc- HEY SO ANYBODY REMEMBER WHEN BELLROC LITERALLY IMPALES JIM ON HER FLAMING STAFF!?! AND HE JUST KEPT GOING AFTER GETTING THE ARMOR!?! LIKE HE DIDNT JUST GET IMPALED? (This is partly why I think he gets like an adrenaline rush magic thingy as seen in some fic i read at some point PLEASE TELL ME IF ITS YOUR FIC I LOST IT PLEASE) YA that’s gonna leave a mark! the wound I’m guessing instantly cauterized so while yes it would hurt really bad I take that as why he was just running around after the armor.

6.burnt hand, another thing that happened in the movie but didn’t really get wrapped up in the end, Jim burnt his left hand on the gaggletac (idk how to spell it) and it just stayed bandaged for the rest of the movie, so it is also included on this list

7.back scars from bular: this one is probably the stretchiest one in this list but I think that it would have been an AMAZING addition to the plot character development wise. In one scene we see bular literally crushing and sliding Jim up the bridges interior wall and Jim is literally like silently screaming in this scene (thank you Guillermo /im sad for my son) and I like to think that after rushing over and doing Romeo and Juliet, Jim got off stage, practically ran over some people trying to get home because he can feel it, the whole play. This gives him some insight on the dangers of troll hunting. Yes I know this was a lesson beforehand but this is in the arc along with the goblins where Jim is learning he’s going to have to make personal sacrifices to keep up this troll hunting thing, including his mental health probably , it will serve as a very physical reminder of the constant danger he is now and will probably forever be in (in case y’all couldn’t tell that I’ve watched Spider-Man nwh like 8 times I’m out for blood on this one)

8.face scar from morgana: slinging the mood back around and also calling back to the “scars gained while Jim is a troll also get applied to his human form”, in like one of the last episodes maybe 2nd to last or the very last one in the final battle with morgana, she scratches Jim’s cheek with a throwing dagger and from what I can remember I thought it actually stayed on his face throughout the end of the series, I could be deluxe but I still like to add it for some reminder of the OG final battle.

not mentioned here- little pit in the amulet indention from the dark shard, and various scars from the dark lands.

if you read that entire rant I’m sorry , enjoy!

[tiktaalic]

i come to you for a destiel fic recommendation. urgently. i have neither the desire nor the skill to actually comb through all that exists out there and i trust your taste unquestioningly. important to note: i think abt beat sheet every day of my life. it was so stupid and also the best thing i’ve ever read. and also the last thing i read was and this your living kiss which rewired my brain chemistry. do with this what you will. in lew of a fic i will also just take a really good amv recommendation tbh. 🙏

I was trying to link my ao3 bookmarks here and running into an astounding amount of errors which I’m taking as a sign to not do that. Supernatural fics I loved I can name off the top of my head:

A complete kingdom

Romantic theory

Every part of the animal

Time has come today

American oracle

Cheapest room in the house

Um. Crucially none of these are beat sheat even a little bit and the komodbits stuff is heavy on the read tags and make a judgement call pre read.im not a living kiss girlie but from the impression ive gotten time has come today could be up your alley. And cheapest room is kind of beat sheet-y in the broad strokes of crazy Dean. I can’t remember the name of it but the most recent thing I read that changed me was one where cas gets resurrected as hot girl cas and like. Starts DIY transitioning. While Dean is. Well he’s Dean Winchester. I was putting together a crazy Dean rec list for awhile a bunch of the ones I’ve listed are in there plus at least one more. My fic tag is really scattershot because it’s for any fic I’ve read and enjoyed but supernatural certainly makes its share of appearances in there. And it’s just #fic tag

[musicalmoritz]

Can we get a list of all the tbhk ships you can think of ranked in order of how much you like them? I'm just curious! Leave out anything you flat-out don't like of course!

Ooooh, this will be a challenge! I’ve done the teirmaker list thing twice for TBHK ships but my opinion on them keeps changing (there are some I used to not care abt that are now some of my favorites). I think I’m gonna try to break this up into sections to make it easier

The Holy Trinity

Aoinene- Obviously my all time fave. I’ll be honest I wasn’t expecting it but this one has shot into my top favorites of all time, which is a very sacred list🙏🏻 I wasn’t expecting to love them so much because I really like the canon pairings but Beecalm’s fan fictions (and many others) altered my brain chemistry. Once I started to focus on them more I couldn’t stop and now I over analyze everything they do. And ofc writing my own fics made me like them more. I really like the potential of both of them keeping secrets from each other and Nene sort of knowing there’s something up with Aoi but being totally unaware of the extent of it (yk like if they were written by an author who gaf abt them they could be so cool). Also the “best friend becomes the villain” trope is simply superior

Mitsukou- This one recently swapped with Terukane. I expected it to be my favorite bcuz canon gays usually are but Aoinene surpassed them. I still love them tho, I like how fucked up they can be with all the cannibalism and bullying as a love language. They’re all cute and angsty but they also have some serious problems, like dudes please get therapy. Mitsuba wanting someone to depend on and Kou wanting Mitsuba to only depend on him. It’s like a train wreck I can’t look away from. But also like I want them to be happy and hold hands. Maybe they can get couples counseling

Terukane- Don’t be fooled by it dropping one level, I still love them a lot!! I like the fanon concept of them helping each other heal, especially when fics have Akane taking care of Teru. Really, this is my “I just want Teru to be happy” ship lol. The shippers are so funny and good at analyses, and I like how they both thrive off of their rivalry. They have such a comedic duo thing going on too, the final exam chapter was so funny. Their relationship is built on trust, or something like that

Absolutely Fucking Love

AoiAoi- This one may come as I surprise considering Aoinene and Terukane are so high but I’m obviously a huge multishipper. The thing with their names is so funny to me, it’s the first thing I tell my friends abt TBHK every time I introduce them to it. I love how complicated they are while at the end of the day still being very dedicated to each other. They’re both so down bad, it’s cute. Despite their initial toxicity, I strongly believe this is the healthiest canon ship but I’ll hold my tongue

Terukaneaoi- I am strongly hesitating to put this one so high since it used to be more of an after thought but I simply cannot separate AoiAoi and Terukane from this ship so it feels fitting. Even if I’m shipping two of them without the other I still imagine them being very important to each other. My enjoyment of the manga increased tenfold when I started interpreting their love triangle as “Aoi and her two boyfriends.” Lowkey believe AidaIro ship them too. This is what I mean when I say we need more poly ships

Hananene- Also struggling to put this one so high but they’re the main couple, I feel like they deserve this spot. Every now and then I start to think I don’t care abt them that much but then I remember the ending of the Picture Perfect arc and I’m like oh right. They’re soulmates. Their relationship is one of the highlights of the manga for me. I mainly prefer this ship with Amane’s personality over Hanako’s but they are the same person so it’s cute either way

Sakuhiko- This was very briefly my favorite. I headcanon them as sapphics which gives them extra points lol. I love how Natsuhiko seems to know Sakura so well, and how dedicated he is to them. I like the idea of them having a less conventional relationship, they aren’t “together” but they’re still together. Very romantic and typical TBHK fucky messed up stuff. Villain couples are elite

Aoimei- This one could’ve been higher than HanaNene and Sakuhiko but I’m a coward lol. I’m happy that AidaIro gave us sapphic breadcrumbs, even if it was only in an au. To me these two just make sense, they would be perfect for each other. Mei is absolutely a lesbian in my eyes and Aoi has gotta be some type of sapphic. I like that they stayed together even after the love potion, and how Aoi was more comfortable with the idea of Mei falling in love with her than any of the guys. I am absolutely in love with this ship

Adore

Aoimei 2.0- This is the version with No.4 Mei. I am not the first to come up with it but I do believe I’ve made the most fan content for them lol. I sometimes like this more than OG Aoimei but they’ve sadly never interacted in canon so it gets docked a section. It’s such an interesting concept, the way both of them exist as a culmination of the rumors made about them. They would have such an interesting dynamic, in my mind they are enemies to lovers lol

Terukaneaoinene- This one is soooooo underrated. Terukaneaoi is great enough on its own, add Nene and you have all the best ships mixed together. You have to be deep into multishipper hell to like this one bcuz p much every combination of ships here are enemies with each other. Best solution? They all date

Akaneneaoi- Okay I’m just gonna go through every poly variation within Terukaneaoinene here, they’re all pretty interchangeable with each other. This one is great because it’s Aoi and her two favorite people

Teruaoinene- Supremely underrated!! Teru is great, he deserves two girlfriends. And instead of Aoi and Nene being pitted against each other bcuz Nene likes Teru and Teru likes Aoi, they both get to date him AND each other. So fun

Teruakanene- Their little date was so cute (technically they’ve gone on two now). Idc if it was meant to be a Terunene date, Akane was included in my heart. Not crazy abt the lack of Aoi here but this is still an elite ship (one of my mutual named them Pineapple Pals)

TeruAoi- This one is deeply controversial. Tbh it could be above the poly ones I just listed but I like them more in the context of Terukaneaoi or Terukaneaoinene. Teru’s potential crush on her in canon is very cute to me, and I like how she seems to warm up to him throughout the series. I will never understand how people headcanon that they hate each other lol, either they’re dating or they’re best friends

Meinene 2.0- No.4 Mei version ofc. This one is a bit interchangeable with OG Meinene but I like this one a teensy bit better bcuz of the hand-holding scene. Every time I listen to “I Wanna Hold Your Hand” by the Beatles I think of them. This is truly my “I just want Mei to be happy” ship. I like the idea of Nene helping her work on her mental health/self-image issues

Meinene- OG Mei version. Their pancake date lives in my head rent free. Might like it a bit better than the other Meinene but idk they swap a lot. Recently this Meinene has been consuming all my thoughts. It feels so canon, AidaIro clearly wanted Mei to have a girlfriend

Sakunene- This ship should be so much more popular than it is. Like every ship listed below Aoimei 2.0 in this section, it could be swapped with any of the others depending on my mood. This is PEAK enemies to lovers hero/villain character foil vibes. They are everything to me. Nene having a crush on Sakura is lowkey canon so I wish more people recognized their potential

Terunene- So overhated because people have no imagination smh. If Nene came to understand who Teru really is (I think she’s learning but shhh) I think they could be absolute couples goals. Unlike most fans I don’t rly want Teru to have a crush on Nene in canon, I think most people who suggest that only say it bcuz they don’t want to try to understand TeruAoi. But I digress. Super cute ship

Akanene- Another divisive one!! They seem to have this weird animosity towards each other in canon (likely due to Aoi) but whenever they team up…oh man, I love seeing these two work together. They’re both hopeless romantics so they’d be able to match each other’s energy

Aoimeinene- A fairly recent one but I’ve become obsessed. I tend to think of each of the ships separately tho so I need to figure out how the dynamic would work with all three of them. I hope to someday write a fic for them and make this ship more popular (tho I think I’m already on my way to doing that with this blog lol). There are not nearly enough femslash sapphic ships in this fandom, I need more

HakuSumi- Not really sure how to rank this one, I love love love their relationship but I’m not heavily invested in it…still, I don’t want to put it too low. My favorite husband and wife, they deserved better :( I’m glad the fandom is starting to warm up to this one, maybe they’ll have a renaissance like AoiAoi

Super Cute!

SakuMei- No.4 Mei version. We briefly saw them together in ASHK so I think AidaIro know they would be good friends. Their personalities match each other very well and the fanfics are amazing (seriously pls read SakuMei fanfics they’re so good). I lightly associate Mei with the Broadcasting Crew so I like to think she and Sakura would hang out a lot. I headcanon them as exes lmao

Natsuteru- Almost forgot about this one…I have mutuals that would sue me over that. So we all know that Natsuhiko and Teru are exes but consider them as transfem butch lesbian exes. Yes I’m right I’m so correct. I will also accept butchfemme Natsuteru

Kounene- Okay so like…I don’t really multiship a lot with Mitsukou *the crowd boos me* I know, I know. I think this ship is insanely cute as a concept but SOME of the fans are weird abt Mitsukou and HanaNene. It throws me off a bit but I have full love for the ship itself, only when it’s requited on Nene’s side tho. I’m not crazy abt one-sided pairings

HanaKou- Again with the mtsk thing…but let’s be real this ship is art. They could do Romeo and Juliet but Romeo and Juliet could not do HanaKou. I prefer them as best friends but I totally get why so many people like them romantically. They have a funny dynamic. I have a request for them so be on the lookout for that

MitsuHana- Hear me out hear me out, this one is so funny to me. Specifically the concept of Hanako having a crush on Mitsuba. I like to think they’d have the same dynamic as Richie and Eddie from It if you catch my vibe (Hanako is Richie and Mitsuba is Eddie). It pairs well with Kounene too

HanaNeneMitsuKou- Only if Mitsuba and Nene aren’t dating, I don’t fw Mits*nene. Specifically I like this ship when things center around Kou, he’s super nice and protective of everyone so all his friends crushing on him feels so realistic lmao. The four of them would bully each other so hard too, I like to picture them acting similar to the main four from South Park. Please see the vision

SakuAoi- Rumor Girlfriends!!! I love the concept of this ship and they have been shown together a lot in official art. Tbh this one could be higher, but I need a bit more for it yk?? I totally get the concept but it hasn’t completely clicked for me yet. This one may level up in the future tho, as I said the concept is very interesting. I would love to see it in an au where Aoi is with the Broadcasting Crew.

MinaMari- We know little to nothing about their characters but the concept is so cute to me. They’d probably be higher if they had more focus in the manga but alas, they are extremely minor characters😔 They give me major Chappell Roan vibes tho

Sakoo- I’m not overly invested in them but this ship is a staple so they get this category. They’re a cute background ship to Mitsukou. I could see them having some type of crazy slowburn and getting together in their 30s

LemonFuji- A ship I came up with, they are so silly to me. I was gonna put this way lower but then I remembered it’s my favorite Lemon ship. Kinda forgot abt them tho so they could technically be moved a tier down…but no, as the captain of this ship I must go down with it. LemonFuji World Domination

Lemonkane- Not really sure where to put this one in relation to the others but I like them. The fact that they dated in canon always baffles me, I love whenever AidaIro say gay rights. It’s a little funny to me that this isn’t Akane’s main mlm ship, it’s like Lemon got demoted

NagiTsuchi- Say it with me…Old Man Yaoi. Another one I’m not majorly invested in but this is my designated ship for both characters. Workplace romance is one of my favorite tropes, especially with teachers. The Yugi Twins’ dads, trust

Like

Sakuaoinene- So I guess this tier is an “I see the vision/I could get into it” category. I’ve always been aware of this poly ship but for some reason I’ve never looked too deeply into it!! I did make headcanons for them once but beyond that I just don’t think of them often enough. I’ll have to think about it more, the concept is god tier. I like all ships between them so this could be like supreme toxic yuri or smth

Natsunene- Their little door date was so silly and no one talks abt it. I feel like I’m the only person who ships this. Please let them be girlfriends

KouAoi- One of the best rarepairs fr fr but there’s so little content so them. I have a fic idea for them but I haven’t had time to write it yet. To me this is a “crush on your older brother’s best friend” ship lolol. I think it would be more of a celebrity crush on Kou’s part but it’s still adorable

Sakuaoimei- No.4 Mei version. I have a fic request for them that I swear I’ll get around to at some point (I’m trying to stick to a schedule but school has kept me busy this week). I’ll have to brainstorm more of a dynamic for them, I feel like they’d all fit really well together. Sakura and Aoi would nerd out together about horror stories while Mei watches them fondly. Aoi deserves two ghost girlfriends

YoMitsu- I like this one as an unrequited thing, like Yokoo being the typical protagonist of a teen movie and Mitsuba being the unattainable crush. And drama! His crush is dating his best friend. Very much Jesse’s Girl vibes. I made headcanons abt this on TikTok and got ppl all invested in the lore

SatoMitsu- Don’t know much about this one but it seems sweet, he protects him from Kou’s bullying

YoKou- This one is weirdly popular for a rarepair, I feel like I see it all the time. They seem cute enough

SaKou- Satou 100% had a crush on Kou at some point. So did Yokoo but we already covered him. In like 10 years he’s gonna be going about his day and randomly be like “ohhhhh so that’s what those feelings meant”

SaKooMitsuKou- Cute poly ship! Satou and Yokoo help Mitsuba and Kou keep their violence to a minimum. Actually maybe we shouldn’t drag them in to all their drama. Nvm let them be silly boyfriends

SakuMeiAoiNene- Works with either Mei tbh (I’m too tired now to rank them separately I’ve been working on this all throughout the day). Any ship between these characters is elite, I fully support it and would read a fic abt them (or write one)

Koukane- See this one has potential but in my mind they are brother-in-laws so I’m still trying to sell myself on it. I like it tho!

SumiYako- I can’t rly see Sumire with anyone but Hakubo lol but it’s femslash so ofc I like it. I need fics and edits for them, I feel like this one could really grow on me. I want to marry both of them fr fr

TsuchiYako- At first I loved it, then I hated it, now I’m warming back up to it. I could see them having a thing without ever having to discuss it yk?? Like they’re together in some sense and they both know it without having to make a big deal out of it

MitsuKane- One of my moots said they would smoke weed together and I have loved the concept ever since. Another ship I feel like I could get into

SakuTeru- Ignore the ranking for this last category btw I have lost the plot. I cannot see Sakura with a man but if it’s nb or transfem Teru then yes. Very interesting concept

SakuNatsuTeru- This ship is so funny I need to look more into it. They all give me major poly vibes so seeing them together feels biblically accurate

SakuMei 2.0- Original Mei version. I’ve not rly looked into it but I could see myself liking this one. They give me opposites attract vibes

NatsuAoi- A rarepair that only I ship (I think). It’s super chaotic to me

LemonAoi- Aesthetically pleasing, I saw an edit for them once and it was life changing. Really I love any Aoi ships, her complex character makes for very interesting dynamics (even tho she only rly cares abt 2 ppl)

Mama Yashiro x MitsuMom- People pair them together a lot so that Mitsuba and Nene can be siblings and I’m totally here for it. Another one I’ve been meaning to write a fic for bcuz there’s not a lot focused solely on them (for obvious reasons). Let the milfs kiss

MitsuLemon- Another rarepair my moots introduced me to. I’ll have to look more into it but yayyyy their colors go together

Lemonkaneaoi- The original concept for TBHK is so fascinating to me. We could’ve had it all

TeruLemon- Fun rarepair, love the overload of blonds here

TsuchiHaku- I saw fan art of them once and I have not stopped thinking abt it

KataSumiHaku- I was recently introduced to this one and I love it, I’m obsessed

Okay there are probably more I could think of but those are ones I don’t care enough about to list. If I get invested in any new rarepairs you will probably catch me yapping abt them on here. Just assume Mitsukou and SouKou are equal btw I did NOT wanna bother with listing them separately. Again, my rankings change a lot but this is probably the most accurate one I’ve done in terms of categorization. Thank you for this ask, I really enjoyed making this!!

[frozenjokes]

what is everyone’s love language/how they best express their affection…..iirc you’ve talked abt this in a fic or a post (scar is touch, cub is qualitt time, i forget grian) but i want to hear it Again!!! this has nothing to do w any fic planning btw :3 i am a normal guy w normal thoughts and behaviors all the time

(side note — if we genderbent/hit all of them with the lesbian ray, would you be chill w that? don’t wanna write stuff abt them and then you just feel weird abt it 🫶)

life would be so much better if they were all girls because then grian could call other women cunts and I wouldn’t have to erase it (enthusiastic yes)

Scar is huge on touch, yes he is the ultimate guy Big Toucher. A lonely Scar will be down on his luck in a fight, say ‘hey what if we chose love instead’ and get his nose broken. If you’re a fan approaching him you are going to Get Hugged. If you’re anyone he remotely knows you’re going to Get Crushed. I imagine the strongest of his hugs are reserved for cubfan135 and skizzleman. I don’t even know if Skizz has been mentioned by name in these fics but he’s there. To me. He does love to bother Grian but he is a little more wary because of the one time when Grian first met Micah (alter ego) Grian told him he has bad hands and Scar has been thinking about the /derogatory/ ever since. Scar does actually have differently textured skin but it’s mostly subtle and probably only something someone who knows him well and/or someone in the middle of a deep extremely autistic mental health crisis would notice. Oops! Grian has no idea btw. He doesn’t even remember saying that. It’s safe to say actually he doesn’t remember most of that night. Quality time is also big for him. He just likes being around people. He probably also enjoys giving gifts, but more in the way of just Paying for stuff. Buying lunch. Stuff like that. It’s mostly a thoughtless gesture because he is aware of One Thing and that is that he has A Lot More Money Than Most People, but something he enjoys. Also making stuff. He likes to make things and he does NOT make them for himself he makes stuff to be Validated. On that grind for ATTENTION. this applies to coworkers as much as it applies to friends and lovers.

Cub is absolutely quality time, you pinned that well. He loves a good *sit in the presence of my friends in complete silence.* parallel play? you’ll kill him with that. I don’t think he or Grian are fantastic at cooking or anything, but Cub enjoys being talked at while he’s making dinner while Grian’s sitting at the kitchen table or vice versa. Just thought about them all doing a puzzle together and how much of a disaster that would be. Cub isn’t nearly as bad of a control freak as Grian is but he would start foaming at the mouth when witnessing Scar attempting to shove two pieces that obviously didn’t go together into one. I think Cub and Grian would get competitive about puzzles. NOT a relaxing activity when they’re doing one together. You know how with cats they each have the Same Food in different bowls but they just HAVE TO KNOW what the other is eating because it MUST BE BETTER. them with different parts of a puzzle. but both of them have resource aggression. They’re having fun. Get them two different puzzles and they’ll play nice. The puzzles can’t be the same piece count thought because then they’ll start racing to finish them first. Both of them know this very well.

Cub isn’t a psych major but I feel like he also expresses that Weirdo Autistic Psych Major Affection with the piecing people out and puzzling out all the different aspects of their personality into boxes and lists. He is studying you. This fuck isn’t just ’spacing out in your direction’ he is looking directly at you and wondering what your fucking problem is. The only exception to this is Grian, only because he’s known Grian for so long that doing this is literally just exhausting. He’s given up. ‘hi, my boyfriend saw you from across the bar and was wondering what the fuck is wrong with you’

Grian I think also has a quality time thing going on but it falls under more of a line of Shenanigans. Guy that LOVES to make a scene. The CuteGuy and HotGuy dynamic appeals to him so much because it’s just drama and fun. Guy that loves to be sneaky with his friends. do. do crime. Start a funny cult with his good friend mumbo jumbo and party alllll night but EVIL. He should really make ocs and start rping with mumbo. Scar would be shit at rp despite spending all of his life playing different character versions of himself he would be so bad. Cub. I don’t know. It doesn’t Quite seem like something he’d be super interested in, but he would listen to Grian talk about his ocs. Shenanigans can also mean arts and crafts. He loves a good arts and crafts. It’s one of the only ways to stop him from being so competitive. Indulge him in his interests and he will kiss you on the mouth. Type of 30 yr old at the sleep over pajama party to suggest prank calling random numbers. Or truth or dare. This cunt would be ALL OVER truth or dare oh my god. He makes me sick. Fun fact, if you want a fun rp idea, putting your whole cast together and making them play truth or dare is Really great. It gets old, but it’s a fantastic once in a while thing.

it’s been an hour help

[fortheunsungheros]

Out of curiosity- How much do you know abt ur fav character in The Outsiders?? My fav is Dallas, who was the sixth character to be introduced by pony in the book- hence my blog name lol

Dally’s full name was Dallas Tucker Winston (as we know)

was 17 (also as we know) and died just two months short of his birthday, which is November 9th, meaning the book begins in September on a Friday

got his disc memorized- you know the drill with him so I’ll keep it shortish: described as tow-headed with an elvish face, with high cheekbones and a sharp chin, small sharp animal like teeth and ears like a lynx, his hair was almost white it was so long, but he didn’t like haircuts or hairpins either so it went over his forehead in wisps and kicked out in the back in tufts along the nape of his neck and curled behind his ears. The shade difference between a greaser and a hood wasn’t present in Dally, he was a wild as a brumly boys, like Tim Shepard’s gang. He had pale icy blue eyes, cold with a hatred for the whole world- he didn’t have anything specific to hate. (So much for short- Read it 217 times since 7th grade)

gave pony the letter from soda and didn’t want to get beat tf up by Darry for giving pony the money and the gun

bought pony and Johnny food at Darry Queen :D

he showed up to the rumble with his arm burnt tf up and fought anyhow

Took Ponyboy to see Johnny because he knew he was dying in the hospital and wanted pony to seem him one last time too

he was born in 1948- since the book was finished in ‘65, I just subtracted 17 from there- so he would’ve been 76 this year :,(

on a lighter note, S.E. Hinton confirmed that he was most likely out of the gang to be scared of spiders- had me rolling 🤣

Lmao it got to the point where I gaslit myself into thinking he lived and Johnny lived based on a fic I read years ago and when I reread it this past month my whole reality with him shattered- please send help I can’t be the only one obsessed with a character to this degree🫠

Wow I think you’re more obsessed with this book than me 😭 HOW HAVE YOU READ IT 217 TIMES? I’m on my 3rd reread in the past 8 months or so.

But seriously wow! I’m glad I found someone who is as obsessed - if not more than me lol. Dallas is probably my 3rd favorite character (ik don’t come and find me lol) behind 2. Johnny and 1. Darry

Darry has always been my favorite character ever since I read the book for the first time. He just stuck out to me and I love his character so much. He also is played by Patrick Swayze and he is the finest man to ever walk the earth sooo. (Like seriously I’m obsessed with this man I’ve watched almost every movie he’s in please send help)

Even though Darry’s my favorite character I don’t know everything about him off hand lol. I’m just gonna make a list of everything I know off the top of my head about my favorite character (yes out of every book I’ve read he’s my favorite character, secondly being Katniss Everdeen if you would like to know lol)

• He’s 20 years old

• His full name is Darrel Shayne Curtis Jr (I say this at least twice a day idk don’t ask why)

• Don’t quote me on this but I think he was introduced last in the book

• He works as a roof repair man person

• His birthday is January 5th

• He’s the oldest brother (obviously)

• He is said to not be a greaser if it weren’t for his brothers and the rest of the gang

• Darry was a MESS when Johnny and Pony were at the church (DARREL STAYS UP ALL NIGHT LONG, TILL HE FINALLY FALLS ASLEEP BY THE TELEPHONEEE - Sodas Letter from the musical)

• Also he was the football captain in high school and was voted boy of the year

• Don’t ask me how I know this offhand (I need a hobby) but in the book Darry is one of the tallest if not the tallest greaser but Patrick Swayze isn’t crazy tall so in some of the photos you can see him standing on bricks to make him look taller lol

Okay that’s all I remember right now but I know more will come to me later lol. And also I sincerely believe also that the events in the book are fictional (well no shit) but like FICTIONAL in a FICTIONAL way. Like Ponyboy definitely just needed a good grade so made up a bs story lmao. I really have tricked myself into thinking both Johnny and Dally are alive and well and the gang is still partying in Tulsa.

ALSO thank you for this ask it was really fun to do!

[bri-in-ur-attic]

One should keep their Promises

Yandere?Ayato x gn!reader (sfw)

Skipped the Irodori event from a long ass time ago now so there’s prob inaccurate info abt it here

I tried to make Ayato as little of a yandere as possible while also being one lol, he’s just mostly obsessed and delusional

yall this fic took me forever to do, its the longest one ive ever written too over 3k sheesh (started this bitch back in April of last year holy shit)

warnings: minor yan themes??, very little spoilers for Ayato’s past, smiiiiidge angst

remember behavior like this irl is shitty behavior that should never be condoned. this is PURELY FICTION I wrote this for fun and to improve my writing

Back when times were simple, back when Ayato’s beloved parents were still alive and when he could enjoy his childhood, a young teen Ayato snuck out of the estate just for the fun of it, he wanted to feel the rebellious energy of breaking the rules, he was just going to be out for an hour or two. Ayato took a kitsune mask with him to conceal his identity and made it to Chinju Forest, then that was when he heard it, the sound of an Shamisen playing along with a sweet humming to harmonize with

He almost mistakes you for an beautiful spirit, Ayato took off the mask for a second to witness your performance with his own eyes

Putting the mask back on, he carefully strolls towards you and taps your shoulder

You flinched and turn around to see someone your age with a kitsune mask, he waved at you and you give a small nervous wave back

“I apologize if I had startled you, but I like how you play your instrument! Could you perhaps continue?”

“O-oh uhm, s-sure!..”

Little you was still flustered but still managed to play your Shamisen skillfully.

Even with a bit of a awkward first meeting, the two of you got along well with together, so much so that you two would continue to meet up for the next three months, although Ayato would continue to wear his kitsune mask, not that he didn’t trust you, he put it on as precaution if scummy people were to encounter the heir of the Kamisato clan out in the open vulnerable, it would endanger not only himself, but you as well.

You seemed to enjoy Ayato’s company and vice versa

Though Ayato might’ve enjoyed yours a little much as even at a young age he wanted to marry you already, he knew it had to be love at first sight!

The two of you experienced what Ayato couldn’t have back at home, companionship of another his age

Then at the third month of meeting up with each other, he dropped the proposition

“Y/n, marry me.”

You obviously were taken aback by his sudden proposal, not only did you just reach your teens, the two of you knew each other for only three months!

“What?? Isn't it too early to even think about that?”

“I mean when we’re grown up, when we’re adults, let's marry!”

You still seemed hesitant as you met each other only three months ago! The kitsune-masked boy didn't even tell you his name for crying out loud!

“I still don’t know, I mean, you haven’t even told me your name yet and I don’t even know what you look like.” you say with a little pout

Ayato thought your expression was very cute but his heart clenches a little, he wants to badly reveal his identity, but he can’t risk it, and he didn’t want you change your view of him if you found out that he was from a high noble clan, just not now

He then reached for your hands

“I promise I will tell and show you who I am one day, please just trust me Y/n.”

The expression on your face doesn’t change, Ayato was getting worried

With sigh, you suddenly lean your forehead on his mask-covered forehead

Ayato was shocked by your immediate move of intimacy and he was thankful for the mask covering up his blushing cheeks which were now red as beets, but he had no complaints as he wraps his arms around you

Now it was your turn to be shocked, but you slowly lean into his body, you inhaled the scent of his clothing through your nose a bit, he definitely had a scent that implied he was from a noble clan, but you didn’t care, you loved him for him

“Promise me that you’ll marry me Y/n.”

“I promise.”

But the kitsune-masked boy never returned after that day

You came back every day for him hoping he would return, but he never did. This was the first time you’ve experienced heartbreak, you felt betrayed, abandoned, maybe that boy was just toying with you for his own amusement, maybe you were just a plaything that he got bored of and forgot about after playing with your feelings. And so you decide to stop showing up and move on with life.

Over the years you still continued to play your Shamisen despite the lingering sad memories you’ve had because of it. Of course, you managed to move on and not be a slave of the heartbreak and putting all your passion on music, and then that was how you received an Anemo Vision

While you moved on and lived a carefree and fun life, Ayato was in misery

He desperately wanted to visit you again, but his parents had fallen ill and soon passed away leaving the burden of growing up too fast and becoming the Clan leader at an age too early

But Ayato’s duties came first and he had a sister to look after too but he still would remember and keep the promise the two of you made that day, he will meet you again one day and marry you, he would tear this island apart to see you again

—--------------------

Many years later, you were now an adult, sometimes you would recall the kitsune-masked boy and laugh at how silly the Romeo-Juliet love story you had with him was, teenage hormones really took over you that day, as naive you were, younger you’s feelings for him back in the day were real

Oh well, no need to dwell on the past anymore

You had a group of pals you joined with who were also musically talented, the group would travel around Narukami Island and perform and even managed to earn a bit of income as well!

Now with the Irodori Festival, this was the perfect opportunity to gain a large crowd since many more were arriving from around Teyvat thanks to Inazuma’s borders opening again

—--------------------

Your group decided to make a short play about a cheesy love story of two lovers who were forbidden to be together, you were against the idea at first but your other groupmates voted for the cheesy play, with reluctance, you gave a thumbs up

The time had come for the play, a crowd started to form excited for what band had planned for this time

Ayato and the Traveler with their floating companion were visiting and touring around the festival’s spoils

From time to time, you always appeared on his mind, to say he still wasn’t over you would be an understatement to an extent. He never forgot how younger him impulsively proposed to you without even revealing his true identity, but despite that, you loved him, you accepted his proposal to marry him one day

So imagine how much it pained Ayato having no choice but to leave you and only to finally be able to come back and not see you

Of course, he couldn’t blame you, it took him about six years to finally come back, but you didn’t forget your promise, right?

He missed you dearly after all, he missed the friendliness of your nature, your kindness, your music, and of course, your love. On days where stress overtook him, Ayato couldn’t indulge in you physically, and so he gets lost in memories of the past feeling the love of those memories over and over again

“Come on Y/n! Join the dance!!!”

Lavender eyes widen at the mention of the name and slowly turns his head towards the direction where the name was yelled

“Uh hey Ayato, are you ok?” the floating child asked concerned while waving her short arms towards him

“Y-yes, please excuse me for a second.”

And with that Ayato speed walked towards the way where Y/n was mentioned. He could see a crowd around a group of performers who were singing and dancing and then..

There you were, his beloved Y/n  

His mouth agape as he laid eyes on you as he admires how much you’ve grown since then, you were somehow more beautiful. Ayato noticed that you too had earned a vision, then his eyes started to dart towards how your hips were swaying with the beat of music, he blushed deeply and mentally slapped himself for eyeing you inappropriately after not seeing you in years  

Even after all these years, you were still playing the Shamisen, the same instrument you had played that attracted him towards you all those years ago. During the rest of the play, Ayato wasn't paying attention to the your fellow group members, his full attention was on you as he ignored the shocked faces of some people who couldn't believe the Yashiro Commissioner was there

You truly were still enchanting

After the play, the crowd claps and soon departs, only for the high and mighty Lord Ayato to remain as he was hiding behind an alley after the play was over to not attract unwanted attention towards him

"Good job crew! We had quite a crowd today! Think it's the biggest one we've had!"

"You too Y/n! I didn't really think you could dance, sing and play at the same time!"

"Hmph, I'm still not really happy with you pulling me in the front, Kenshi."

"Oh hush, you never perform in the front, you just needed a gentle push."

You roll your eyes as you and Kenichi pack up the equipment with the rest of the group going out to get some snacks

"Besides, I think you did a wonderful performance Y/n "

"I agree, for I think that was the best Shamisen solo I've ever heard."

A man in high noble attire with sharp sapphire eyes suddenly engages in the conversation

Something about him was

Awfully familiar

Kenshi then nudges you

“G-greetings Lord Ayato!” Kenshi says as she bows elbowing you to do the same

Ah so that’s why he felt familiar, but there’s something more about this man that you couldn't quite put your finger on

You give a small bow of simply tilting your head downwards

“Good afternoon, I just came by to compliment on how well your group has done on the play. The singing, dancing and the composition.”

Lord Ayato for some reason kept his eyes mostly directed at you, it made you a bit uncomfortable

“T-thanks- I mean- thank you my Lord.”

Screw all this fancy talking, you just wanted to hurry up leave and enjoy your sweet Dango milk

“Say, considering how talented you are Y/n, would you perhaps grant me the honor of performing in the Kamisato Estate personally for my sister and I? She would love to witness your talents.”

Both you and Kenshi were flabbergasted on the Lord’s sudden proposition

‘Marry me, Y/n.’

The memory suddenly rewinded in your head, why did that happen?....

“Y/n? You good? You have to accept this offer!!” Kenshi said as she gently placed her hand on your shoulder

“OH! Oh uhm, yes! I will be honored to perform for your family and you, my Lord..”

“That’s splendid, tomorrow morning then, see you until then Y/n, don’t keep us waiting too long.”

And with that, the Kamisato Lord elegantly walks off, with a grin obsessively love-sick that you didn’t see

With his presence finally gone, you lean on Kenshi’s shoulder a bit, exhausted

“Hey Y/n, are you ok?”

“I..don’t know…”

—--------------------

Morning had arrived too soon

With each step that took you closer to the grand Kamisato Estate, anticipation dreads over you

Meanwhile Ayato woke up more early than usual, he was already ready as soon as the sun had rose

“Dear brother, why have you waken so early in the morning?”

“Ah, well we have a special guest coming in soon, Ayaka.”

Foolish Ayato, he had forgotten to inform his sister that you were arriving

Maybe he shouldn’t had woken up so early, hours what felt like eternity were actually 30 minutes

With a scoff, Ayato began to write down witty lines he could say to you, wedding locations and even went as far as listing some names for your possible future kids

After about half an hour of scribbling, he accidently dozes off and falls asleep

In Ayato’s dreams, there was a vision of a past memory of when he proposed to you in your teens, and then he sweetly dreamed of the inevitable future with you snuggling up with him in bed, greeting him with kisses after a long day of work. What Ayato saw next in his dreams was the cherry on top of his fantasies, you and him on the field that he too went to with his family as a child, and suddenly two kids come running up to the both of you, this was what all that he ever wanted, a family. Of course, he had his dear sister, but a loving spouse and 2 beautiful children maybe even more was perfect. A family he could build with the love of his life

But the dream ends before he could indulge in them further as a knock awakens him

“Lord Kamisato, a musician has arrived proclaiming that you invited them in the estate.”

Perfect

“Ah yes I did, do let them in.”

It’s ok, his dreams would become a reality soon after all

—--------------------

“Good morning musician, I pray you have had a good night’s rest?”

“Quite milord.”

In reality, you haven’t. You had barely gotten sleep due to the fact of how uncomfortably familiar Kamisato Ayato was, you were dreading the morning as you wanted to stay away from him, besides, politicians are always bad news, maybe it wasn’t a good idea to accept his proposition. But with Ayato being a very high official ranking nobleman, he could probably send good word across Inazuma for not only your band but yourself as well

“Oh hello! You must be the musician the Lord as invited!”

A blonde man walks in waving towards you, his aura was nice to be around compared to Ayato’s

Sending a shy wave back towards the blonde man, a beautiful lady in armor approached

“Good morning everyone, I see that the musician has arrived shall we head inside the estate?”

—--------------------

During your solo performance, you mostly focused your eye contact with Lady Ayaka and Thoma as they were more pleasant to be around in contrast to Ayato’s authoritive self

He was,, strange around you

His gaze towards you were as if he’s analyzing you to find your weak points, even when he was walking beside you when heading inside the estate you caught him eyeing you, but you can’t deny that he sure does a pretty face, a really pretty one in fact

And with the final chord strung to conclude your show, you accidently come in eye contact with him

Piercing blue eyes meets the e/c briefly

“What a beautiful performance Mx. Y/n! I never heard anyone play the Shamisen played in that style!”

“I agree with Lady Ayaka Y/n! Quite the solo you did.”

With their compliments, you slightly blushed and lowered your head in respect and gratitude

“Hm, couldn’t had said it better myself, you certainly are talented y/n.”

“Thank you milord.”

You only offered him a side glance in which you cursed to yourself as that rude action might get you in trouble, thankfully Ayato didn’t seem to mind as he only chuckled

“I would actually like to have a few private words with y/n here, I personally have some curious questions to ask them.”

Both Ayaka and Thoma widened their eyes towards Ayato’s request, but granted it as they both got up and went out

“Dear brother, do make it quick for Mx. Y/n”

Letting out an airy laugh, Ayaka and Thoma leaves you alone with Ayato with Thoma giving a small smile towards you

‘Please don’t leave me with him...’

“Musician, please, may you direct your attention towards me?” Ayato says while placing a hand on your shoulder

With a sigh, you turn your head and to be met with something that you desperately tried to repress from your memories

The mask of the boy you met all those years ago

“Y-you..no-no way..”

“Hehe, Y/n my dear, it has been way too long.” he says while stroking your cheek

Due to the mask being too small for Ayato to wear, he simply placed it in front of his face, but regardless, you feel as if you were back in that forest with him all those years ago

You stare at mask, memories of your teen years flashing before your eyes

Shock turns into despair and finally into anger

No way you were going to let this man try to crawl back into your life after he ditched from yours

With all professionalism and manners thrown the window, you slap his hand that was cupping on your cheek away harshly, unintentionally enhancing the slap with anemo

“I see you also gained a Vision over the years.” Ayato says while grabbing his hand

“No thanks to you for breaking younger me’s heart, gaining my Vision from moving on from how you discarded my feelings is the only positive thing I’ll ever view from ever meeting you.”

For a brief second, Ayato’s expression was laced with heartbreak, this was all a simple misunderstanding

“My dea-”

“Don’t. Call. Me. That. I no longer wish to be part of your life, you clearly didn’t want to be part of mine back then anyway.”

Turning your heels and ready to bust down the door, you suddenly felt a harsh grip on your arm

“NO! I wanted to return to you that day! I wanted to marry you one day! I was forced to be away from your life!”

Stopping on your tracks and your back still facing Ayato, your anger melted away and turned into empathy and your heart was beating fast at the reminder of him purposing to you that day

Taking your silence as a sign to continue, Ayato trails his hand down your arm to grab your hand

“My flower, my mother and father had fallen terribly ill at the worst of times and their conditions only worsened until they eventually passed and I had to take over as Clan leader..” Ayato slightly chocked on his words upon talking about his parents

“I can’t express on how much I am truly sorry for leaving you without a word, but I wish you can forgive me and let us start over.”

Despite being inside the estate, it felt as if the wind was blowing

“No.”

Finally looking up to meet with Ayato’s piercing gaze, you would be lying if you said that it didn’t send shiver down your spine

“And, why would that be if I may ask?” His eyes darkened, from pleading to menacing

“Look, I can forgive you because you provided an very understandable explanation, but I have moved on a long time ago, you should too Ayato.”

“But, you promised.”

“Correction, teen me promised, I don’t pledge you jack shit.”

Silence was what was left, you were left in limbo of what to do next, you contemplated running away

Ayato then removes his glove, the one that was on the hand you hit earlier

“Do you see this? You seem to have left a nasty bruise on me, this can be considered physical assault towards me, a Yashiro Commissioner.”

‘Curses, I didn’t even mean to use my elemental powers on him...’

“Now Y/n dear, if you want no criminal charges against you, I suggest you to give away to me.”

Your mind had shut down, this was it, your life was completely butchered up thanks to this dangerous and deluded man you met years ago, regret of stepping foot in that damned forest in the first place washes over you

But, you have nothing to lose at this point minus your dignity, and you conclude that your bandmates will be ok without you

Clenching your fist, you close your eyes

‘I must make it to the docks, I’m sorry guys.’

“Well? What is your move, dea-”

With a powerful gust of wind, the ceiling collapses and causes Ayato to stumble back a few feet, the person of Ayato’s affections was gone in a puff

While covering his face with his arm, Ayato’s face hardens with shock and frustration

Fine, if it’s a game of the cat chasing the mouse, he’ll give you a game

Guards come bursting in, taken aback by the debris

“My Lord, what has happen-”

“Look for a figure that carries a Shamisen with h/c hair, I want them alive and well.”

“Understood sir.” And with that, the guards left to prepare for the search

With a sinister smile and low chuckle, Ayato covers his face with his bruised hand, brushing his lips over the marked part

“You can run my dear, but you won’t be able to hide for long.”  

A/n: The y/n rizz is so strong that Ayato simped for over a decade

[sensivs]

im thinking abt a satosugu fic where Geto is a depressed college student who is going through a hard time due to all the packing, new classes, and new schedules. one day getou gets this overwhelming urge to go to the window in his bedroom, there he finds satoru sitting in a tree looking at him, he is a graceful man with the most beautiful and curly hair suguru has ever seen, his light brown skin caressed by the rising sun’s light, but there’s something off about him, as his presence feels almost unreal, “yo, suguru!” the black haired man takes a step back, as he doesn’t remember giving a white haired lightskin his name. suguru can’t muster up the courage to say anything so he just decides to wave at him, which earned him a beaming smile from satoru, getou takes in a deep breath, “how do you know my name?” and with that, all of his social battery had been reduced to 1%, “I’ve known you since we were little, suguru, do you seriously not remember me?” “..am I?” “youch! that one stung suguru!” and from there on, satoru and suguru continued meeting at getou’s bedroom window just as the sun began to shine. but one day as suguru goes to his window, he notices something on his windowsill, so he picks it up and starts reading it, “hey suguru, this is satoru, im sorry to say this but I have to go, but before I go, I need to tell you something. I am not real, you may be asking yourself how am I writing this note, well, it’s because I came from your subconscious, you wrote this letter, you’re telling yourself to wake up, please, suguru, if this goes on, who knows how long you’ll last here”

[jayflrt]

🎀 update since it’s been a while

haiiiii i haven’t been on tumblr in 5ever. i feel like im only ever on here now when u update LMAO. speaking of LIVING for jay/yn. it’s AMAZE. i’m also every excited for the next update. but anywho how have you been! we haven’t spoke in forever i really can’t remember what my last update was abt so im just gonna skim thru things!

like since the start of this year ive been SUPERERRR into f1 so i made a podcast! (podcast in question is my cf on my spam account 🥸) 😅😅 i’ve always liked it because my brother did but i’ve gotten more into it. i also took a listen to romance untold and it’s SO good my favs r defff moonstruck and royalty 🔥.

lowk this summer has been chill like any other. i went to a couple parties with my friends but then after that not much happened. there’s no guy updates bc unfortunately my life is no longer a wattpad story because that was very hard on my emotions 😅😅. i’ve lowk sworn off relationships for a while. obviously not completely but i don’t know recently a friend pointed out to me that whenever im in one its very tolling on my emotions and it’s not good so i don’t want that to happened again. i was also just not in a good place when arsal/cameron/marcus happened. REST ASSURED I AM BETTER NOW!!! #weUP

about my friends it’s going nice! we’re kinda doing our own thing since it’s the summer however one of them, m (i think i name drop too comfortably on here), recently started talking (ish) to a guy and she’s kinda obsessed with him. like it’s in a weird way in where she full blown cancelled plans that we made like 5 days prior just bc she had last minute plans with him so 😃😃😃😃 i’m so happy for her!! (NOT). i have to be honest there’s nothing wrong with him other than the fact he looks like he SNUCK ONTO EARTH WHEN THEY FIRST WALKED ON THE MOON. so 🤗🤗🤗🤗

i have been writing a LOT more recently. like not even just because it’s kpop i don’t know i get the inspiration to write and just open a google docs document. like for instance one of them the plot is mc breaks up with sunghoon and becomes closer to heeseung but plot twist! they’re in a band and there’s DRAMAA 🔥🔥🔥. and then another one is where mc and jake r ENEMIES bc her dog tried impregnating jake’s dog at a dog park 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥. one of them is a sunghoon fic that’s heavily inspired by cmbyn (MINUS THE GROOMING) the other is a jay prank call au where he calls her bc he remembers his highschool sweetheart and she doesn’t even spare him a thought 🔥🔥🔥🔥. there’s a single dad sunghoon au somewhere in there. MY GOOGLE DOCS IS COOKING.

however i don’t think i could ever post it to tumblr. maybe one day when anyone is interested ill send in a little snippet of one of them 🤗 or dm u one of them and reveal my identity 😮😮😮😮😮😮😮. but i don’t know! i’ve tried writing on tumblr before but i was in highschool when i tried soooooo. i also think that im just too busy. maybe one day when im not so busy 🔥.

but yeah that’s really it 🤗🤗. but update me if anything cool is happening in ur life. r YOU having a hot girl summer. i also think u said you went on a trip recently (?) IDK. but pleeeekkk update me - 🎀

hihi 🎀 anon !! omg please i'm honored you're sticking around to update me 🥹 they're MUCH appreciated i love reading them <3 and thank you sm for tuning into yfi786 🥰🥰

omg i have a few friends who are super into f1 too!! the races look like they must be so fun to go to :') YKWW the close friends story podcast is always sm more fun to tune into than an actual podcast 🙂‍↕️ my fav rn is brought the heat back it's just been playing in my head 24/7 and that vocal run from jay hello!!!! moonstruck and royalty are SO good though they're definitely up there for me too

i'm glad your summer's been chill !! it's always nice to just have time to unwind before getting back to the uni grind 🥲 honestly relationships/situationships can take so much out of you mentally so i'm glad you don't have to feel that way anymore!! and im glad you get to spend the summer with your friends 💗

OMG NOOOO YOUR FRIEND NEEDS TO RUN FOR THE HILLS 😭 why would she cancel your guys plans like that?? LMFAOOO PLS we're always losing an angel to an ugly man 😞💔 no that's so upsetting tho :( i hope she gets over him he's not worth cancelling plans with friends over!!!!

omg wait SLAY 😌 the rush of writing inspiration always feels so so good and i hope it lasts a long time for you!!! HELP NOT THE DOGS MATING AT THE PARK 😭 but okay i see you grinding through those plots!!! 🔥 the google drive is being FED and oml if you ever feel like sharing,, my asks are open 🤭 also yeah that makes sense!! i don't bother with aesthetics because it's just sooo time consuming,, like don't get me wrong i'd love to have a super cute theme and stuff but it's def a lot of work :')

omg yes i went on a little trip with my friends :')) we did that thing where we pulled our vacation plan out of a hat LMFAO but it was fun!! i'm very sick of flying tho! 🫤 NO hot girl summer just hot corporate slave summer 😩 i have been trying to pick up new hobbies though because i just dropped my habit of doomscrolling on tiktok 🤧

[lilypadding]

Hi! Just like- okay- hear me out! A fic where Nagito wakes up from the Neo World Program first and is left waiting for everyone else to wake up and during this time he visits all the locations that he recalls on the island (in the OVA it seems as if they remember there time in the program and as remnants of despair) but he ends up being triggered by the factory because that is where he died in the Neo World Program so he kind of starts spiraling again and eventually Hajime wakes up second to Nagito like after a few weeks and finds Nagito in shambles over everything and instead of World Destroyer having to help Nagito with his trauma Hajime helps him through it while learning more abt himself and Izuru which also lives in his brain and it being like a healing moment for them both I’m sorry this is so long okay BYE COMMISSION OR REQUEST IS FINE JUST LMK

-- no longer comatose

⋆ summary: an au where nagito wakes up first.

Crossposted on AO3

⋆ pairing: nagito komaeda x hajime hinata

# post-game, temporary amnesia, resurfaced memories, hurt/comfort.

⋆ word count: 6k

⋆ a/n: thank you for requesting! (: I tried my best to fill all the boxes you asked for, and I hope it doesn't disappoint.

masterlist | requests open!

⋆ taglist: @moonlit-raven-haven

The first thing Nagito feels when he opens his eyes is pain. A dull, faraway ache wraps around his left wrist, enough for him to squirm and groan at the blurry view of a metal ceiling. 

The first thing Nagito hears is a low, rhythmic beep. He first registers it as tinnitus, because it indiscreetly fades when he twists his head to the right. But it fades right back in, confirming the stiff, staccato beeping to be outside his body. 

The first thing he sees— really sees— is blue. His right hand is at his side. And just beneath it, what he’s presumably laying on, is a flat surface emanating blue light. The screen covers the entire pod he’s laying in. 

Pod. Where is he? 

A crackling static sound bursts into the space. Nagito anchors his right hand further back to push himself up. He has to suppress a surge of dizziness while the sound tunes into a quieter buzzing. The air is startlingly cold. 

“Hello? Hey, can you hear me?” A voice comes on. It echoes against the metallic walls of the wide building. Nagito turns to the left, to the source of the sound, and eyes a small podium-like control panel attached to his pod. Atop it, a small speaker-like device sits. 

“... Hello?” Nagito finds his voice to reply. It’s ten times more torn and husky than anticipated. He coughs the discomfort from his throat. 

“He’s responsive,” The voice fades as if backing away from their microphone. It returns to full volume: “Can you say your name for me?” 

Nagito opens his mouth. But his throat is dry. And the question sparks no connections.

“Alright,” The voice says. “That’s okay. My name is Makoto Naegi. We’ve been monitoring all your pods over here at Future Foundation, and— Well, we didn’t expect any of you to wake up yet. You must be feeling pretty confused.” 

Nagito frowns to himself. Future Foundation. It sounds like something…

“Do you know what year it is?” 

“...”

“... Can you tell me the last thing you remember, Nagito?” 

Discomfort sprawls in his chest and tightens his lungs. He shakes the feeling.

“Nagito?” 

“Servant,” He mutters automatically. He repeats the word without thinking, even quieter, “Servant.”

“I-I’m sorry, Nagito,” Makoto replies, the static still refusing to let up, “I can’t quite hear you. If it’s not too much, can you speak up a little?”

Nagito blinks at the speaker. “Servant,” He repeats. Familiarity satisfies the syllables. “Call me Servant.” 

It’s quiet on the other end of the line. For a second, Nagito wonders if he’d hallucinated the entire voice. If he’s been talking in Makoto’s place and is pathetically imagining a human interaction. He seals his lips tight and keeps his tongue pressed to the roof of his mouth. 

When the voice cuts the silence, Nagito’s sealed mouth is evidence enough that it’s real. 

“Don’t stray too far, okay? We’re sending dispatch over there.”

－－－－－－－－－

Kyoko Kirigiri should not have worn heels today. She forgot the expanse of Jabberwock, she forgot how wide the islands are, how long the walks are to get to any buildings established. Then again, this trip was unexpected. Makoto had been the one coming every week, but due to unexpected hurdles, she’ll have to fill in. She couldn’t have known she’d kill the soles of her feet by noon with such little warning. 

“How’s the patient, then?” Byakuya chirps up from behind her. She sighs, spinning to look at him. 

“Nagito,” Kyoko glares at him while supplying his name instead of ‘the patient’, “You need to start calling him Nagito. I can’t imagine it helps his identity crisis when you refuse to use his name.” 

“I never use anybody’s name,” Byakuya snaps back. “It’s a waste of time.” 

“Aren’t businessmen supposed to be personable?” 

Byakuya looks unimpressed. Kyoko gives him a finalizing glare before spinning back around, continuing towards the supermarket. The pharmacy on the other island would make sense to store pill bottles, but for sheer convenience, Future Foundation has been keeping supplies in the old supermarket building.  

Every week since he’s awoken, Nagito is interrogated about his memories. Makoto usually measures his mental state and holds informal therapy sessions. The Future Foundation cameras set up across the island monitor enough of his behavior, but direct contact is much preferred when assessing how he’s doing. Makoto had handed his file about Nagito to her before she departed. She’s only had the plane ride to go over the details written inside. And based off sheer circumstances alone, Toko has suggested anyone in Nagito’s place needs medication. 

“You never answered the question,” Byakuya joins her stride. “About the patient.”

“Nagito is… stable,” Kyoko tests the word on her tongue, “He is not currently a threat to himself or others.” She pushes the door in and doesn’t hold it for him. 

“A miracle,” Byakuya says under his breath while he follows her. She decides to ignore the comment. 

“He’s piecing more together,” Kyoko says, walking to a shelf stocked with medicines. “He remembered Izuru Kamukura during his first session, after all.” 

“The first one?” 

She doesn’t reply. She skims the bottles and grabs an anti-depressant that Toko had recommended after her research, and moves on to look for supplements. 

“Why did the first one remind him of Kamukura?” 

“We transported him to a different island temporarily,” Kyoko says, “The boat ride must have reminded him of their interaction.” 

“How much has he remembered, exactly?” 

“A lot of things. His name. His location. His hand.” 

Byakuya does not react. But Kyoko still catches the nervous micro-movement of his jaw.  

“Do you ask him what he remembers during every session?” 

“Yes,” Kyoko side-steps to the right, picking up the bottled vitamins, “Makoto has noted that bringing him to different locations will jog his memory more. He recalls the beach of the Neo World. He’s been remembering the deaths of his classmates. He remembers a few of their names, the way their bodies looked.” 

“What about…” Byakuya trails off. 

Kyoko turns to him. “Off-limits. Makoto fears that being reminding of his traumatic death will reverse all the progress he’s made. Nagito’s fragile enough. We’ve seen the way he breaks down ourselves. We can’t risk it happening again.” 

Byakuya upturns his nose. “I can assure you, ignorance is not bliss in this situation.” 

“I never said it was.” 

“Then when will we expose him to his death? Or are we waiting for him to stumble on the memory himself? We don’t know the recovery process of this amnesia, especially not in a circumstance after a virtual-reality killing game. Jogging his memory little by little could trigger an avalanche in the same way direct exposure would. When can we know he’s safe to learn about it?” 

Kyoko places the bottle of vitamins beside the anti-depressants, settled between the clipboard she’s holding and her own front. 

“We won’t,” She answers, “We won’t know when he’s safe to learn about it.” 

－－－－－－－－－

While they’re submerged in the water, Nagito kicks one leg up, then the other. The splash of the movement is quiet among the cottages. His pants are rolled up just above his knees. The sky is nearly black with cloud coverage. If Nagito didn’t know any better, he’d assume nighttime is right around the corner. 

And way before Makoto is anywhere nearby, Nagito can hear his footsteps approaching. Living on such an inconsequential environment with no other conscious soul drenches the island to eternal silence. Even a miniscule shuffling in bushes a mile away could trigger Nagito into turning its way. 

The footsteps strengthen on the wooden planks that branch into the cottages before solidifying on the concrete surrounding the hotel pool. 

“Hi, Nagito,” Makoto greets him. 

Nagito turns to look at him and offers a grin. 

“Enjoying the pool?” Makoto is visibly nervous. Nagito can tell by the forcefulness of his smile, the fidgeting of his fingers as he holds a nondescript binder, and the shifting of his weight from one leg to another. 

Nagito languidly moves his left leg up, then alternates and raises his right one. His legs feel light in the water. 

“Yes, I am,” Nagito responds, hoping his smile communicates enough reassurance to calm Makoto down. It doesn’t seem to work. “Thank you.” 

“Yeah, of course!” Makoto walks up to him. He kneels down in order to sit cross-legged next to him. “I really had to pressure some co-workers to get this pool cleaned up. But it’s clearly paying off, so I’m glad I did.”

Nagito continues the rhythmic movement of raising his legs before letting them float back down. Up and down. Up and down. 

“You know, I’m happy to see you out of your cottage,” Makoto comments brightly. Nagito still senses tension in his cheer. “Not that I blame you for staying inside. The air isn’t always pleasant.” 

“Yes, it’s not,” Nagito nods at the clear water, “It didn’t smell as smoky today. I thought I’d take advantage.” 

He’s also been disassociating all day and thought the sensation of water would bring him back to Earth. But he’s not about to worry Makoto by mentioning that. 

“So…” Makoto’s voice tightens. “I found something I thought I could show you.” 

Nagito looks at him. Makoto adjusts, scooting a bit closer. He positions the binder between them both and opens it cautiously. As if it were classified information. 

The second Nagito’s eyes lock onto the first image, he thinks it may as well be. 

“This was taken during your second year at Hope’s Peak,” Makoto fills in. He points at Ibuki, who’s tossed herself midair in the middle of the street market. Just behind her, Hiyoko stares at her with an expression that earnestly looks worried. Lining the vendor’s stalls, more of his classmates can be seen in the background. Mikan, Mahiru, Fuyuhiko, Peko, and…

“That’s me,” Nagito points at the side profile of himself. He’s in a yukata, smiling at the plushie behind a stand.

“Yeah, that’s you,” Makoto replies warmly. Nagito’s eyes drift to his two hands in the picture. Healthy and normal. Not discolored. He suppresses the urge to hide his amputated arm further against himself. 

Only shortly after waking up, Makoto had brought Nagito the best medical professionals he could find to remove Junko’s hand. And they’d done it successfully with minimal damage. But Nagito’s been left alone on an island with nothing more than his fragmented memories. Staring at the amputated spot while knowing he’d attached the limb of a dead woman always makes his chest tighten. 

“What year was this, again?” Nagito continues staring at the picture. 

“Your second year at Hope’s Peak Academy,” Makoto smiles. He pages to the next picture. 

The next one is of a snow trip. Ibuki had taken the picture herself— she’s holding the camera and flashing a peace sign. Behind her, more classmates can be seen enjoying themselves. Kazuichi is gliding down a slope, Sonia not far behind. Akane and Nekomaru seem to be competing for who can glide down the small mountain in the most creative way. 

Second year. They must have been sixteen or seventeen. And without the ability to fully fill in the gaps, it’s hard to believe he’s almost twenty-two. 

Makoto glances at him nervously before turning to the next picture. 

In the forefront, Nagito is sitting on a small hill. His classmates are to his right, looking in the same direction, admiring the fireworks in the sky. The smile on his face is peaceful. He recognizes nearly everyone again. Ibuki, Teruteru, Gundham, Sonia… 

His eyes lock onto a girl with short pink hair. 

“This was the same night of the market,” Makoto says, “It was a New Year’s event.” 

He stares at her. His chest starts aching and his eyes start burning, as if the need to cry was a life-or-death decision. He forces a gulp to look away from her. 

Makoto looks up at him. Uncomfortably, he seems to understand why Nagito looked away. Even while staring at the pool water quaintly lapping, Nagito can’t stop trembling. He tries to kick up his legs in the water again, as if it’ll distract him from anything. 

“She was your class representative,” Makoto whispers. 

Nagito closes his eyes in hopes it’ll quell the swelling in them. “I know.” 

“...How much do you know, Nagito?”

Think about her. 

The thought of digging for any memories of her is sending an alarm to blare in his neurons. He shakes his head quickly and scoots away from Makoto. 

His old instructor saying, “I think you’d be the perfect fit for class rep, Nanami!”, the sound of Nanami yelling his name after getting shot, the inflection of her crying in a maze right before—

Nagito inhales sharply and digs his nails into his thigh. He blinks forcibly. A sharp pain edges into his heart. 

Makoto gently puts his hand on his arm. “I’m sorry, Nagito. I thought it might help to remember more, even though I knew it’d probably be painful too.” 

He doesn’t reply. 

“...Do you remember anything about her in the program? Do you recall any feelings you felt towards her?”

“Guilt.” He doesn’t hesitate. 

Makoto raises his eyebrows. “Guilt?” 

Nagito rubs the base of his throat, his eyebrows knit tight. He can’t often name the feelings from his memory. A lot of them muddle together, blend with confusion, and leave him at a loss. But this one is so clear it’s hard to ignore. 

“Yeah,” His voice quivers. “Guilt.”  

－－－－－－－－－

Breaking into the warehouse is not as easy as he thought it would be. It takes a crowbar, a small axe, and an amount of physical force that Nagito has not possessed. Ever. 

He’s even surprised when the leverage of the crowbar makes the door budge. Because yes, it’s physics, but Nagito has lived most of his life thinking he can’t carry as much as his own weight. Which isn’t a lot. 

There must be something pressed against it because when Nagito pushes, it barely moves. He has to back up from the door, survey the wood, and decide if this is worth pursuing anymore. But he walked all this way. He took a boat over here. He can’t refuse to answer his own questions. 

For a long time, he’s wanted to visit the fifth island. Makoto had been granting him access to the others, one by one, and right before letting him peruse the fifth one— he withdrew. He never arrived with a boat specialized for the trip, and he never brought up the prospect with Nagito again. 

Nagito wanted to ask about it to put him on the spot. But he could never bring himself to. He had an inkling it would be the wrong move somehow. 

And it seems he made the right decision, because today, a boat arrived at Jabberwock seeking to escort him to the fifth island. 

Whenever Nagito is given a tour of the islands, he’s never alone. Makoto is usually the one to step in and act as a makeshift tour guide. One out of the three other times, it was Kyoko who walked him around.

This time, nobody is waiting on the boat. No one is there to guide him down the right paths or off the surfaces he should avoid due to overexposure of an active apocalypse. Only the captain of the boat is aboard, with two security personnel from Future Foundation. Nagito tried asking them about their summons— about why they were instructed to send a boat for him out of the blue. They had no clear answer. 

They didn’t even follow him off the boat. The land became free rein for his exploration. He wanted to ask them if Future Foundation was purposely sending him to die in uncharted territory for legal reasons, but he reasoned they’d have even less answers for that. 

From Nagito’s foggy memory, the Neo World’s fifth island was crowded with structures, large antennas, and working warehouses. In the real world, it’s just another defunct island taking after its neighboring land masses coated in years of dust, debris, and ashes. The only structures in sight when first arriving is a vast single-story building (Nagito presumes this was a factory), and the storage warehouse near it. 

The factory was a disappointing exploration. If a bunch of rubble and broken pillars were more interesting, he’d have been captivated. And from the outside, the warehouse looks just as uneventful. But something about it forces Nagito’s hand. Enough to garner the energy to shove the door in and open a gap wide enough for his body. 

As soon as he’s inside, dust and filth irritate every inch of his lungs. Everything smells of rotting wood and locked up mold. He has to squint at the floor to check where to step: the light is limited, and the likelihood of something crawling about seems high. 

The warehouse is a much smaller structure than the factory. It’s spaced like a garage with random stacked crates crowding corners and piling into the space. Old cabinets and standing shelves are haphazardly thrown in across the room, cardboard boxes cradling them. From the information he’s gotten from Makoto, the Jabberwock project was in the works for a solid year before anyone initiated the collection of the remnants. Makoto himself had to sneak around Future Foundation officials to get things rolling. Nagito wonders what if this was a makeshift storage unit for them, or if this clutter was here before the organization decided on the land. 

Nagito steps further in, walking towards the only other visible light source. A faint, shadowed outline of a fan is reflected at the center of the room. He cranes his neck to look up at the built-in ventilator installed in the wall. He can see the layer of dust atop the rim of the blades. He inhales deeply, hoping to find some oxygen— only to cough out the grime in the air. 

Other than the oppressive, unhealthy air quality, something in here is caving his chest in. He’s always somewhat doubted the paranormal, but is this how it feels to walk into a haunted room? 

Near the back of the room, a black curtain cuts off the rest of the space. 

His stomach flips while he stares at it. His legs move on their own toward it. 

What else could possibly be behind this other than a few more storage items? Even while raising his hand to pull the curtain back, his fingers can’t stop twitching. He clenches it into a fist to stop it before forcing himself to reach out and yank.

Nothing is there. The walls at the back of the warehouse are still lined by a few shelves and empty boxes, but save for that, there is nothing there. There’s an empty clearing of floor with in-tact pillars framing it. 

He can’t figure out why he’s still shaking. He tries to trace back memories of the Neo World, as limited as they are. Why does he feel so scared?

He lifts his head. Centered and above the space, there is a rectangular beam connecting two pillars on opposite sides. 

It’s all he stared at while waiting for them. The boom of the door caving in. The rush of their voices when the fire started. The heat and sweat he endured. The grip he kept on the rope, until…  

By the time he snaps back to reality, he realizes too late that he’s started laughing. 

－－－－－－－－－

The sunrise would be mesmerizing to watch were it not purely and strictly red. The silhouette of someone sitting along the edge of the lapping coast would enrich the view to anyone who didn’t recognize them— but Hajime Hinata knows Nagito Komaeda’s outline like the back of his hand, and while they’ve been granted a new beginning, he can’t shake the anxiety bubbling in his bloodstream. 

Irrational. 

God. He can’t even feel emotions in peace anymore. Maybe it’s because he only woke up this morning and consciousness is not doing a great favor to him, but he cannot catch a break from the intrusive thoughts he’s labelling as Izuru. 

Every movement, every item, and every atom triggers some level of recognition from Kamukura. Maybe suppressing this part of himself during the virtual reality is having unexpected consequences. Maybe the injection of Izuru’s talents became his base code and Hajime can’t forget everything that’s been put in his head, not anymore. Or, who knows, maybe Izuru is simply itching for attention. 

Hajime stares at the ocean. The water is a violent shade of red. He can’t imagine Nagito is sitting on the beach for the sake of the view. 

What would Nagito be doing? What has he been doing? 

Makoto arrived in a helicopter after Hajime woke up. He was assured more answers, more clarification on the situation at hand. He was also alarmingly surprised at the amount of details Hajime could recall about everything— the killing game, Hope’s Peak, and their treacherous life prior. 

“Only two of you have woken up so far,” Makoto had filled him in, “It’s been nearly three months since the other woke up.” 

“Who was it?” 

Makoto had looked to the side as if scared to admit it himself. “Nagito.” 

“He’s been awake for three months?” 

“Just about,” Makoto’s voice has dropped considerably. There was no point: the room was empty, all other pods were sealed shut. “But, listen to me, Hajime. He’s in a bit of a fragile state. When he woke up, he didn’t remember much at all. It’s almost like his mind put up a block to forget everything to protect himself. Kyoko and I were having weekly sessions with him, jogging his memory little by little as safely as we could muster. However, we were holding off on talking about how he died in the simulation. It was extremelty traumatic, we weren’t confident about his mental state. But four weeks ago, Byakuya…”

He looks off. It was weird to watch Makoto’s baby face turn irritated, “Byakuya went behind my back and sent Nagito to the warehouse inadvertently. By the time I found out and came here, Nagito was… he’d shut down. I don’t know how else to describe it. I can’t even talk to him meaningfully most days. So when you see him, be mindful of that.” 

Be mindful of that. How can anyone be mindful about the fact that your former friend committed a brutal suicide and left their dead body for you to find? How can anyone approach the same person and exercise caution and respectfulness when your last memory of them is that?

Hajime stares down Nagito’s silhouette in the distance. 

When he first met him, Hajime would have assumed that in this scenario, Nagito was preoccupied in his head. That he could approach this guy on the beach and genuinely go unnoticed. He’d join him sitting, and Nagito would be pleasantly surprised by the company. That he’d act normal. 

Now, after so many encounters with him, and many unpleasant, he knows better. While he approaches Nagito’s silhouette, his footsteps shaky on the sand, he knows Nagito can hear him. Nagito acts preoccupied, in his head, and talks like it too— but more times than not, the thoughts are surprisingly present and relevant. The topics he brought up during class trials initially struck Hajime as frazzled and unrelated, but they always led down the right path. 

He’s ever observant and carefully resigned. He speaks when he deems it important, and withdraws for the same reason. Hajime can’t quite decipher why Nagito hasn’t acknowledged him, though. But he can’t afford to get flat out ignored. 

Hajime stops to stand right beside him, forcing his body into Nagito’s peripheral at least. Nagito finally complies and starts turning his head towards him. When he looks up, Hajime forgets to breathe. 

You’re overreacting. He doesn’t look that different… 

His hair has grown out, his jaw more defined. His eyes look more grey than green, and Hajime wonders if it’s solely because of the dark atmosphere. 

Nagito’s lips part while he stares at Hajime. Particularly at his left eye. 

“Kamukura,” Nagito exhales shakily. His gaze darts to Hajime’s right eye, then flicks between them. A knot between his eyebrows form. “No. Hajime?” 

Hajime opens his mouth to reply while Nagito surveys his hair. He feels self-conscious, suddenly. He’d put his hair into a haphazard, lazy bun to get it out of his face more than anything. It’s not like any appropriate scissors or clippers are ready at hand. He’d woken up in Izuru’s suit and tie, as well, but didn’t have the heart to keep either the tie or jacket on. Jabberwock is hot, either from the general climate or the constant fires not far off. He had to undo the first two buttons of his dress shirt to feel like he could breathe. Standing beside the ocean is helping. 

He licks his lips when he realizes his own silence. He’s been staring at Nagito without replying. He clears his throat and ignores the nerves in his chest. It was always nerves when it came to Komaeda. 

“I’m both,” Hajime manages. Nagito’s expression shifts into awe. Hajime has to tear his eyes away to spare himself the embarrassment. 

“So…” Hajime stares ahead, “If I ask to sit next to you, will you not let me?”

Nagito raises his eyebrows. “What am I supposed to say? That the spot is taken?” 

Hajime presses his lips together through a suppressed smile. He lower himself and sits, keeping his knees up to wrap his arms around them. “I missed your teasing.” He didn’t intend for the sarcasm to end up so prominent. 

“Me? Teasing?” Nagito looks alarmed, “You’ve surely mistaken me for someone. I don’t tease.” 

“Right,” Hajime nods slowly. He turns to Nagito, who’s wearing a smile every bit deceitful. 

Along the shore, the tide has left a clear line marked between the wet and dry sand. They’re sitting just before the cut off. Hajime watches the water lap towards them, surprisingly quaint, slow and peaceful. He closes his eyes against the red sky to soak in the sound of the ocean. At least for a single moment, he can pretend this is calming. He can pretend this reality is satisfying. 

“If I had known you were the one who woke up, I’d have… been there,” Nagito speaks so quietly Hajime leans into him to hear it. His voice is lower and raspier than he remembers. “I saw the helicopter coming in, and Naegi rushing off the dock and to the building. I figured someone must’ve woken up, but I didn’t care enough to see who.” 

“That’s not a very comforting attitude to come from our first survivor.” 

Nagito’s voice sours. “I’d hardly call myself that.” 

“You woke up.” 

He almost rolls his eyes. “It’s just my luck, huh? To get the miracle of life handed back to me on a desolate island. As if it should be called a miracle. That’s too gracious a term…” 

Nagito stares into the horizon. Reflections of red flash in his grey eyes. Hajime traces the bridge of his nose with his gaze. 

“What would you call this, then? If it’s not a miracle.” 

Nagito gives him an incredulous look. 

“Punishment.” He breaks the eye contact to pick at grains of sand and sighs. “I thought I was doing a service to everyone. An act of good charity.”

Hajime looks down. Makoto was surprised at his sufficient memory. Hajime was disappointed. 

Well— Disappointed might be the wrong word. He was annoyed. Disturbed. 

While recalling most of his life with ease has obvious advantages, he didn’t expect to recall things in such detail. It’s not like the information was at the forefront of his mind, but if he took longer than five seconds to spark a memory, it transfixed itself into a full-sensory experience. The scent of the room rushes back to him, the textured details, the space. The posture of his stance, the direction of his eyes, the weight of his clothes. Everything. He wants to blame this on Izuru’s integration, because his memories get even clearer for any event that occurred after the surgery. 

And when it comes to recalling the Tragedy, it is the worst thing he could ask for. 

Slaughters and their stench of blood, the rubble and smoke emerging from old playgrounds, the electrical buzz in the air whenever too many robo-bears gathered in one area. 

Right now, one memory rushes back: the sight of Nagito Komaeda on his knees with his pants pulled down, adjusting messily-applied blood stained gauze tape on both of his thighs. When Izuru— when he had walked in and observed him callously, Nagito looked up, his eyes peeking out from his overgrown bangs, and blinked. 

Of course, their interactions during this time frame stretched further than a single instance, but Hajime is overwhelmed immediately by the overbearing memory of his self-deprecating smile and comments. 

Remnant or not, Nagito’s thought process has always been backwards. 

“I tried to do the one noble thing I could think of,” Nagito says. “And failed.” 

A wave rolls in. A subtle crash pushes the sand and drenches it darker before it recedes. 

“Now I’m expected to believe that I deserve a clean slate? A second shot at life?” 

Hajime leans forward to glare at him. “You do deserve this.” 

Nagito laughs. “Shouldn’t your judgement be better after being injected with every talent in the world?” 

He’s jealous. 

He closes his eyes to stifle Izuru’s ever-present analysis. He can handle this without its help. He is Hajime. He has gotten through worse. 

“You do.” 

“Don’t lie to me. It’s hard enough to believe that coming from someone who consented to a lobotomy.” 

His shoulders tense. Okay. He has gotten through worse, but fucking hell, if Komaeda isn’t still infuriating when he gets snappy. 

“Nagito. I’m not stupid.” 

“I don’t know, Hajime, your words say otherwise.” 

“Don’t look away from me.”

He’s not sure if the sudden anger in his tone is what gets Nagito to reluctantly comply. To finally make eye contact with him again. 

“I am not stupid,” Hajime starts, his words spaced out for emphasis, “I know you love to act like I am, but I’m not.” 

He leans in for good measure, more than confident about his next assertion: 

“You do not wholeheartedly believe that this is punishment. You do not believe that you deserve to die. That all of us deserve to die.” 

“Do I seem like the type to excuse criminals?” 

“You seem like the type to have hope.” 

Nagito freezes. Hajime presses.

“Who left the poison bottle perfectly positioned at the center of your fridge? Who left a single foil from that poison under their bed? Who deliberately left that gas mask and gloves lying around?” 

Nagito recoils as if he’s being shunned. 

“Go on. Answer me,” Hajime continues, “Who did all of that? Because I know Monokuma would not care enough to fabricate evidence for your sake. And I know you’re intelligent enough to know the crumbs you’re leaving behind.”

Hajime doesn’t stop himself even while Nagito refuses to look at him.

“You don’t get to play dumb with me. I have watched you manipulate situations and conversations firsthand. I have seen you in control, you know exactly how to get what you want. You are deliberate in your choices. And while you despised everyone and yourself for becoming despair— You did not make the case impossible.

“You could have left us in the dark. You could have destroyed every single piece of evidence. You could have effectively gotten us all killed. Yet you didn’t. You left just enough so that maybe, just maybe, if someone dared to snoop around enough, they would realize the truth.” 

Nagito’s eyes stay glued ahead. As if acting indifferent absolves Hajime’s words of meaning. 

“Even after finding out the worst, a small part of you had faith in our hope. It’s what let us win the trial.” 

Hajime tries sealing his lips. The next thought is impulsive, and it may be the wrong thing to say, but he can’t stop himself: 

“It’s what makes you exceptional, Komaeda. You… For all your talk about hope, you’re not insincere about it. You really do believe.” 

Nagito finally turns to him, wide-eyed. He clearly wasn’t expecting a compliment. 

“And you couldn’t shake your belief in the people who were trying so hard to stay alive and stay friends. By proxy… call me crazy, but you believe in yourself, too. If you didn’t, you would’ve never dared enact any plan as elaborate and insane as you did.” 

Nagito’s staring at Hajime now. The expression on his face is vague enough to remain unreadable. 

“If you irredeemably embodied despair, through and through, you would have never died for the sake of hope.” 

Hajime takes a deep breath. That was a weight off his chest. 

He’d consumed himself thinking about Komaeda after his trial. He never thought he’d get to confront him with all his conclusions. Hajime stares at the shoreline, the subtle movement of the red water rippling while it rises and falls.

It’s quiet for a long moment before either of them speak. The anxiety that he’s been ignoring speeds up his heartbeat. He touches his own chest as if it’ll suppress it. 

“That’s an admirable conclusion to make, Hajime.”

When Hajime turns to him, he doesn’t think he’s ever seen Nagito so relaxed:

“And from a Reserve Course student, no less…” 

“Ha-ha,” Hajime squints at him. “You’re so funny.” 

Nagito breaks into a small giggle, ducking his head into his chest. Hajime stares at him and lets his chest fill with relief. 

“Admirable?” Hajime repeats. He doesn’t realize until now that he’s smiling, too, “Are you admitting that the conclusion is correct?” 

“Now, now,” Nagito says, “Surely the Ultimate Hope can decipher that.” 

“Can you pick a side?” Hajime asks when Nagito laughs again, “Am I a talentless Reserve student, or am I an Ultimate?” 

Nagito hums, dramatically thoughtful. “That depends. Did Kamukura’s endless knowledge help you make that conclusion about me?” 

“No. That was me.” 

“Then the answer is obvious,” Nagito’s eyes shine for the first time. “You’re Hajime.” 

Objectively, Hajime knows this. He knows his identity cannot be ripped in half. He knows his name. 

Still. It’s nice to hear Nagito say it. 

For once, the sound of the ocean waves starts to lull him into relaxing his shoulders. Hajime stares at a small gap in the clouds forming, the single parting point he’s noticed. 

“So, what do we do? It’s just the two of us here.” 

It’s clear that Nagito’s question is more of a big-picture concern. They’re the only two people awake. At this rate, the rest of their classmates will take years to wake up one-by-one. How can they lead such a lonesome life with hope? 

Hajime presses his lips together and glances back towards the buildings. 

“I guess, for now, we should start with some food.”

[thedawningofthehour]

for the dvd commentary thing - im not sure if it fits under 500 words or if u can even remember what u were thinking since u wrote it like last year , but the scene in arc 1 chapter 8 where draxum n donnie talk abt sun tzu n mythology n names ?

That is...yes, that's quite a bit longer, about 1300, but lucky for you I'm very narcissist and love talking about my shit. (and nobody else sent one in)

“You’ve read Sun Tzu.” Draxum is just looking at him, with a quirked eyebrow and a small smile on his face. For some reason, Donnie’s face flushes. “Well, yeah.” He looks down. “I’ve always loved reading, and it’s not that long. What, did you know him or something?” “He was a bit before my time.” Okay, he’s actually smiling now. It’s creepy. “But his work is quite illuminating.” “I’m surprised you’ve read it. He was a human, after all. A warring human. Aren’t you against that?” “Only fools believe they have nothing to learn from their opponents.” “So you’ll apply that to a two-thousand-year-old book, but not to modern humans?” Donnie tugs on his cuffs. “You know you missed, like, the entire point Sun Tzu was trying to make, right? His entire philosophy was that using violence is rarely the best way to get what you want and conflicts are better solved diplomatically.” “And he also said that when you do draw your bow, to draw your strongest arrow.” “Yes, but only if-” “Do you not think there have been attempts to address our conflict with the humans diplomatically?” Draxum says shortly. “You think you’ve seen the extent of this war. This has gone on much longer than you. Longer than me, even.”

So that took influence from a podcast I enjoy:

The whole thing is a fake talk show radio program from a fictional city with sort a sort of surreal-absurdist vibe going on. (one episode depicts a political debate that devolves into an argument over whether the crawdad people would vote for them and one candidate's treatment of the alligator king, for example) Also not the only reference to this podcast in this fic; this is where Tubby Dan's Barbecue and its various trials Bella mentions are from. He actually has a commercial later on in this episode.

I also have not been able to find the exact quote he uses. This guy might just be trolling me. But I figured, Donnie's fifteen, even if it is a fake quote that's the kind of mistake a fifteen-year-old would make.

“I’m just saying-” “No, you will listen to me on this occasion. Look around you, boy. Think of where we are, think of who we are.” “We’re a turtle and a goat-man in your lab. I can’t really look at much else.” The slap takes him by surprise. It doesn’t particularly hurt, but he feels quite confident by now in how far he can push Draxum before he uses physical force, and he hadn’t reached that point. “The Hidden City is under New York City,” Draxum says quietly. “You have more experience with the world above than I do, so let me ask. Does it feel like New York City?” Donnie shakes his head, his cheek still stinging. “Why do you think that is?” “I assumed it was because the Hidden City is a lot older? New York is only about three hundred years old, and almost everything up there was built in the last century,”

(noooo a typo)

(I literally just went back and edited a nearly year-old chapter right now, it's all fixed dw)

But for real, New York is an infant of a city. I know the Hidden City is under New York because the turtles live in New York, they've always lived in New York-but I wanted it to make sense why.

So my idea was that the Hidden City isn't so much under New York, but that New York was built on top of the Hidden City. They weren't even hidden at first-they just fucking lived there, cohabitating with the indigenous Lenape people, (or at the very least they left each other alone) and adapted when Europeans started their colonizing bullshit, gradually moving underground as more humans showed up and clashed with the Yokai, not understanding what they were. (The Lenape and the original colonizers didn't really know either, but there was an understanding of bro just don't ask questions that was gradually lost as more and more people settled there) Part of the reason it became 'gestures to all of New York' is because of the presence of the Yokai and all their nonsense. So basically-the chicken came before the egg, and the Hidden City is that chicken. Or one of them. You can decide whether they did the fucking or laid the egg.

“You are…correct in that observation, yes. The Hidden City is much older.” Draxum glances off to the side. “But think of what is here. Think of where it came from.” “Well, yes, the culture here is heavily East Asian. Even the name Yokai originated in Japan.” “Think about that. Why are so many Yokai from that area? New York is on the other side of this continent. It is not a simple journey.” “I assumed there was some portal.” “There was, but by design. Why did they come here?” “I’ve met Yokai that are definitely European.” “Very few. Think about why that is.” Donnie glances up. “Fewer Yokai in other parts of the world.” “We were actually more widespread in some areas. Why do you think you do not see our brothers and sisters from the Horn of Africa? The Maghreb? From the islands of the great Pacific? They existed, my boy. Ask me why they are not here.” Donnie is silent. Draxum looks over him, his eyes narrowed and cold. “The Hidden City is the last of its kind. There are no other communities like this elsewhere in the world, not anymore. So I will ask you again, boy. Why are there so many Yokai here from Asia? And why are the Yokai of the rest of the world not here?” Donnie remains silent. “Answer me, boy.” “I understand.” “I want you to say it.” “Humans killed them.” Donnie focuses on the ceiling. 

Another one of those 'try to make the lore of the fucking ninja turtles show realistic' decisions. I know the reason they're called Yokai and why there's so much East Asian influence is because they are Ninja and this is a show about Ninjas and the writers wanted to harp on that, but it doesn't really make sense from a lore perspective.

I mean, think of where New York is. Pre flying, pre Panama Canal, the Far East and New York couldn't have really been more far apart. To get from Japan to New York by ship, you had to sail across the Pacific, down the west coast of both north and south America, around Cape Horn, back up the east coast all the way from Argentina to the fucking northeastern tip of the United States. Or land in Washington and cross the entire continent on foot. (I know they have portals but that's not the point, okay?) Like, unless there was a really big, heavy traffic natural portal from the Hidden City to Japan it just doesn't make sense for that to be the primarily culture. Especially considering the Crying Titan, canonical father of all Yokai, is under New York. If there was going to be a higher concentration of Yokai in any peoples, it would be the native people of North America. Because that's where the goddamn empyrean is flowing.

But we see pretty much no obvious First Nations influence. We get some East Asian and some European, all under a heavily Americanized umbrella. I mean, yes, they did this because this is a show marketed to American children and that's what's recognizable to them, but still. I needed it to make sense.

And it gave me the perfect frame to hang a blood-soaked backdrop.

“So you do understand.” Donnie presses his lips together. “I don’t think all humans deserve to die for it.” “I don’t think so either.” He must look surprised, because Draxum looks down at him, amused. “What? Deserve is a rather heavy word. I’m not speaking of deserving. I’m speaking of survival. Humans and Yokai cannot coexist. One of us will destroy the other. I do not intend to allow my people to languish in the dark while the humans choke us out.”

This is really the cornerstone of Draxum's beliefs. Yes, he's acting out of hatred and anger, but I didn't want that to be his whole thing. That's not as compelling, and Draxum's intelligent enough to need a concrete reason. And I mean...from his perspective, relations with humans have always gone sour eventually. And his people end up paying the price for that in blood.

“What makes you so sure?” “It has been foretold.” “What, like a prophecy?” “Exactly. There is a prophecy that predicts-” “You haven’t read much Greek literature, have you?” Donnie shifts in his binds. “Oedipus? Cronos? Or are those guys too old for you too? Let’s see, we have the Mahabharata. Macbeth. Sun, Moon, and Talia. Have you read Harry Potter?” “What-” Draxum closes his eyes. “Child, what in the world are you talking about?” “Those are all stories of self-fulfilling prophecies. In every one of those stories, the actions taken to avoid the prophecy cause it to come to fruition. Cronos eats his kids because he was told one of them would overthrow him, but that just makes his kid angry enough to do it. Talia is foretold to be killed by a splinter of flax, so her father bans flax from the house. The first time she sees someone spinning flax, she doesn’t know what it is and pricks her finger due to her curiosity and inexperience.” “...Why would a splinter of flax kill her?” “I always assumed there was some context lost in the translation, because that part never really made sense. Anyway, the point is that trying to prevent the prophecy just made things worse. It likely never would have come true, if people had simply done nothing.”

I'd like to call back to Draxum's speech to the Shredder in the finale. He does his big dramatic betrayal because he realizes that the prophecy foretelling the destruction of the Yokai was not the humans, but Shredder himself.

But he conveniently leaves out his own role in that. Draxum brought the Shredder back. Even before factoring in the orb he gave Big Mama, pulling Karai from her hell dimension, even without the work he did recovering the cursed metal-like, even if the Foot got every piece of armor the could get their hands on without him, they still wouldn't have finished it because Splinter had the last piece. And there's no way Splinter would have allowed it to be taken. Even Draxum couldn't defeat him in combat. The only reason Splinter gave it up was to save his sons-the sons that were shown kicking the Foot's ass all episode. If it was just them, they couldn't have captured the turtles. No Draxum, no Shredder.

Which makes the entirety of Rise a self-fulfilling prophecy in itself. In trying to destroy what he thought was the greatest threat to his people, Draxum created the very thing that could end them.

“No, it would have been a regular prophecy, like Cassandra predicting the fall of Troy.” “So you do know your Greek literature!” Donnie almost smiles at that. “Potentially. But far more likely that the prophecy simply doesn’t come to pass, like the thousands of other prophecies that are forgotten. We only hear about the ones that come true, after all. And from a simply mathematical standpoint, some of them must come true.” “I understand what you’re trying to do, and I understand your point. But you are a child playing at war.”

Yeah, he doesn't have a good answer here. So he just dismisses Donnie's point. Reminds me of my own dad!

“Well, maybe you need a child’s point of view,” Donnie huffs, rolling his eyes. “Have you ever thought maybe you’re too far into this to see what you’re doing?” He expects Draxum to call him names again, but he’s quiet for an uncharacteristic amount of time. Donnie turns his head, seeing Draxum leaning against his desk, a very far-away look in his eyes. “I know I was,” he finally says, so softly Donnie almost doesn’t hear him. “But I realized my mistake. I pulled out of it before it was too late.” He turns back to Donnie. “That’s why you’re here.”

A callback to Cass telling Draxum that the armor would kill him. Because really, Draxum's plan was stupid. He barely knew anything about this armor, the Foot, why they were so willing to give him this power. Yet he didn't ask questions. He didn't do any research. He trusted the Foot-humans, who had no love for his people and no reason to help him. Yet he plunged in. He was so enamored with the dark armor's power, so obsessed and blinded by bloodlust that he didn't stop to think about any of this. Not until Cass basically slapped him across the face and told him to snap out of.

And then he realized. He'd almost died-and died horribly, feeding a leashless monster. That was how lost he was in his bid for power. He had a whole-ass personal crisis before deciding to take up kidnapping as a hobby.

Donnie raises an eyebrow. “Kidnapping me was the less extreme option.” “Correct.” “I mean, yes, kidnapping one turtle isn’t as bad as unleashing a literal demon, but like…you couldn’t have found some middle ground?” “You’re my strongest arrow,” he replies simply. And it feels like someone’s dumped ice water over him. “Don’t be angry. I tried to compromise with you. I would have let you keep your name and your family, but you’re the one who refused to meet me in the middle.” Donnie just looks off to the side. “Think about it.” Draxum approaches his table, reaching out and grasping Donnie’s shackled hand, fingers curling around him like a claw. “You’re going to help me protect Yokai and mutants alike. We will do great work together, and when I lead my people into the sun with you by my side, your name will go down in history.” He does a little smile at that, like it’s a pleasant thought. “You just have to tell me what you want that name to be.”

I was kind of hoping someone would catch onto this. At this point, Draxum is still considering Donnie (or rather, his fantasy son who doesn't have a name yet) to be an accessory to his power. Like yeah, he wants him to be revered and rewarded after the fighting is done, but when the history books are written he'd be a chapter in Draxum's book. The next time he mentions the whole 'lead our people into the sun' thing, he says they'll do it 'side-by-side' because he now considers Galois an equal, and as time goes on he will eventually see himself as the person meant to help Galois on his path and set him up as the true savior of the Yokai.