#like i just don’t think.... i just don’t think academia is for me. actually. which is stupid for me to say for 2764287438 reasons but i

[savi0rr]

Darling Wife .ᐟ

Viktor x Fem! Reader

In which, Viktor has a sweet wife that, weirdly enough, no one really knew about.

a/n: hi divas! Erm this is my first time writing for Viktor so I'm sorry if he sounds out of character.

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"Viktor? What is that on your finger?" Jayce inquired, suddenly appearing behind Viktor and peering curiously over his shoulder. Viktor felt a knot form in his stomach as he glanced down at his hand, where a gleaming wedding band rested snugly on his finger. He cursed under his breath, realizing he had meant to remove it but had completely forgotten in the whirlwind of his work.

"Just a ring," Viktor replied evasively, casting a quick look back at Jayce while clicking his tongue in annoyance. Jayce, however, was undeterred. He raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms over his chest, a teasing smirk forming on his lips. "Isn’t that the same finger where wedding rings typically go?" he challenged, his eyes narrowing with curiosity. "Don’t tell me you actually have a wife?"

Viktor maintained his silence, his heart racing in response to Jayce’s playful interrogation. "Even if I did, I wouldn't share that information with you," he said tersely, redirecting his attention back to the Hextech gemstone in front of him, his mind racing as he tried to refocus on his work.

Jayce, still leaning casually against the desk, raised his eyebrow further, the smirk on his face beginning to fade away. He studied Viktor’s expression closely, a frown of confusion.

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“Viktor has a wife? That’s just absurd,” Mel declared, waving her hand dismissively as if to brush away the very notion. 

“No, I swear! He’s actually wearing a wedding ring. When I asked him about it, he responded with, ‘Even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you,’” Jayce insisted, leaning closer to Mel's desk, his hands planted firmly on the surface.

Mel rolled her eyes in disbelief, leaning back in her chair and letting her hands fall into her lap. “Who on Earth would marry Viktor?” she whispered, her curiosity piqued as she leaned forward slightly, her expression a mix of intrigue and skepticism. “No offense, but…” she trailed off, momentarily glancing away, her thoughts clearly racing.

Jayce sighed, exasperated. “I mean, it’s not the best image, is it?” he muttered, shrugging as he contemplated the idea. His mind seemed to wander as he contemplated the strange pairing. “Plus, why do you even care?” Mel asked, raising an eyebrow at him, a hint of playful challenge in her voice. “Because I want to know what she looks like!” he responded with a hint of frustration, glancing off to the side, and groaning.

Mel pondered for a moment, her brow furrowing. “Even if he did have a wife, wouldn’t she be here at the Academia with him?” she pointed out, her curiosity beginning to overshadow her previous skepticism. “That’s exactly what I’m saying!” Jayce exclaimed, running his fingers through his hair in agitation. “It doesn’t add up!”

With a sigh, Mel straightened up, her expression turning serious. “Look, I have much bigger problems to deal with than figuring out who Viktor is married to,” she stated firmly.

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"When do you think he sees his wife?" Mel asked, her voice barely above a whisper as she peeked around the corner of the dimly lit hallway. The soft glow of fluorescent lights flickered overhead, casting shadows on the walls of the Academia. Jayce followed her gaze, cautiously poking his head out to get a better look.

"Hmm... maybe when he isn’t buried under a mountain of work," Jayce mused, tilting his head and furrowing his brow in thought. His dark hair fell slightly over his forehead, and he swept it back with a casual motion. Mel, with an exasperated huff, rolled her eyes dramatically. 

"You should know this! You’re his partner, for crying out loud," she murmured, her tone tinged with disbelief as she crossed her arms. Jayce's expression shifted to one of sheepishness, his cheeks flushing slightly as he glanced away, avoiding her accusatory gaze.

"But I leave before him. I'm already gone by the time he usually starts his day. And when I come back to the lab, it’s always just him—working away, lost in his experiments," Jayce replied, his shoulders lifting in a shrug that conveyed both confusion and resignation. He could sense Mel's frustration, but the truth was, Viktor’s work schedule was a puzzle he had yet to solve.

Mel sighed heavily, her brow knitting together in thought. "How do you not know… never mind," she grumbled, her voice trailing off as she turned her attention back to Viktor, who was at that moment preparing to leave. 

"Shhh!" Jayce hissed urgently, his eyes widening as he quickly placed a hand over Mel's mouth, the sound echoing loudly in the stillness. They both watched in silence as Viktor slowly began to rise, gripping his crutch tightly under his arm while gathering his belongings with meticulous care. He seemed unaware of the two pairs of eyes on him, lost in his own world.

Viktor gripped his documents as he walked down the hallway, his eyes narrowed. He made his way down to the back of the Academia, opening a door. Jayce and Mel looking out the window from the other story. "The hell is he doing?" Jayce muttered under his breath. "Look," Mel said, spotting you not too far in the distance. "Is that his wife?" Jayce whispered.

"Viktor." You spoke up, smiling when you saw him. You stood up from the bench you were sitting at. Viktor eagerly wobbled over to you. "I've been waiting." You teased lightly, taking the documents from his hand and placing them down on the bench. Viktor could only stare at you. He hadn't seen you in a while. But he'd never say that he missed you. "How are you doing?" You asked gently, guiding him to sit down, placing his crutch aside. "I've been...well," Viktor said plainly. "I could be better." He muttered, glancing off to the side. You nodded, sitting beside him. You glanced down at his hand, raising an eyebrow. "You wore your wedding ring?" You asked, a small smile forming on your face. Viktor's cheeks warmed a bit, sighing. "I meant to take it off." He grumbled as his fingers ran over the wedding band. "I'm glad you wore it. It suits you." You giggled lightly, placing your hand over his.

Meanwhile, with Jayce and Mel, they could only stare in shock. "Of course, he has a pretty wife too!" Jayce groaned as he shook his head. "Of course," Mel muttered as she sweat drops. "Who knew she was so darling?"

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[isa-renee]

okay but why is it literally easier to explain my thesis topic to non-linguists??

[dollscotton]

10:11 • ғᴇ̀ᴄᴏɴᴅᴇʀ (NSFW)

♡ assistant!Hongjoong x witch!afab!reader

♡ academia, witch, smut

♡ WC • 3845

♡ Warnings!! (tags) • Sex potion, witchcraft, swearing, kissing, praise, spit/drool, dacryphilia, unprotected sex, edging, overstimulation, handjob, titjob, blowjob, manhandling, fingering, creampie, breeding, lactation, multiple positions, anal, knotting, semi-public sex, mutation, vampirism, reader wears long nails, reader has fangs, reader is implied to be shorter than Hongjoong. (pls lmk if I missed anything.)

♡ A/N: this isn't proofread, will do sometime in the future. féconder means fertilizer/pollinate in French if I'm not mistaken. Any French speakers feel free to correct me.

♡ ᴛᴀɢʟɪsᴛ

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 The rain pattered on the window rather heavily. You and your assistant, Hongjoong were in your school’s greenhouse, while you finished up on your latest potions and he read to you.

   “It is the eve of St. George’s Day. Do you not know that tonight, when the clock strikes midnight, all the evil things in the world will have full sway? Do you know where you are going, and what you are going to?” Hongjoong recited, pacing slowly back and forth behind you. The novel ‘Dracula’ is in his right hand while his left hand rests behind his back. His glasses perched right on his sharp pointed nose as he tilted his head to the side continuing. “She was in such evident distress that I tried to comfort her, but without effect. Finally, she went down on her knees and implored me not to go; at least to wait a day or two before starting. It was all very ridiculous but I did not feel comfortable. However, there was business to be done, and I could allow nothing to interfere with it. I th-”

   “Yes come here, business,” You interrupted right then, beckoning him over. Hongjoong placed a ribbon in between the pages before closing the ages-old novel. He walked over to you until you were side by side, and he looked down at you.

   “Yes, darling?” He raised a brow a bit, watching as you poured a yellowish iridescent liquid into a rather small goblet. “What's this?”

   You handed him the goblet, looking up into his eyes, “it’s supposed to suppress arousal.” You inform, turning back to the pot where you grabbed a bottle to store the rest in.

   “It’s supposed to make me not horny?” He clarifies, looking intently at the potion. You nod in response, “Exactly.”

   “How long is it supposed to take effect?” Hongjoong takes a smell of it, it smells of Gingko Biloba, Red Ginseng, and Yohimbe. There’s also a dollop of a poppy scent in there too. “I’m not sure, we'll just have to see.” You reply, watching the rain pour outside.

   Hongjoong takes a swig, swallowing the potion that felt rather thick in his throat. The taste itself was bitter but sweet. He could get past it.

   “It tastes like…like-” “Anti-horniness?” You turn your head a bit to notice a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Very much.” He answers, smacking his teeth. “What purpose was this for by the way?”

   You paused, thinking about it. Truth be told you actually weren’t sure why, but you could list reasons as to why. “Hmm…” You trailed off. “Maybe for uh… people who struggle to keep it in their pants? I don’t know. People who struggle with sex addiction?” Hongjoong nodded slowly, “I guess that could make sense.”

   There was a comfortable silence passing for a few minutes before Hongjoong felt his slacks tightening. Was this supposed to happen? He believed not, the potion is an arousal suppressant. He opted to keep it to himself, figuring it would go away quickly and that this was just a part of the process.

   However, more minutes passed, and Hongjoong’s breath grew heavy as his slacks suddenly felt twice as small. He let go of his novel and looked down at the floor. “...Y/n?”

   “Yeah?” You kept your eyes on your own spell book, skimming through pages without actually reading them. Your back was faced towards him, bent over the counter. His eyes fell on your ass which your long, tight godet skirt shaped perfectly. His breath hitched, his skin growing hot.

   “I… I don’t think this is a suppressant, Y/n.” He states. His cock is visibly hard, fighting against his slacks.

   “What do you mean, Joong? I-” You turn around to see the view. His cheeks flushed red, visibly sweaty under the layers he wore. His hands gripped the counter, and he gulped. “R-Read that spell again.” He stutters.

   You grab the spellbook, turning back to the page where you followed the steps to create the suppressant. Looking at the header you creased your brows. “Joong, it says aféconder, that’s a suppressant.” You say, feeling bubbling in your stomach. Hongjoong felt his stomach tighten himself, he shook his head. “No�� it can’t. Let me see the book.”

   He leaned over and grabbed the book, skimming over the page with a deep sigh. “... oh Y/n…” he closes his eyes, placing the book back down. “Y/n, this is féconder. The ‘a’ was a stain.” Hongjoong pinches the bridge of his nose, turning away from you.

   You felt your mind slap you right across the face, and you rested your head in your hands, propped on your elbows. Your hands ran across your face, and through your hair, as you let out a soft but low groan. “Sorry, Joong,” you whisper, and you feel his hand rake up your back. “There has to be a way to reverse it, right?” he mutters, his voice huskier than usual. 

   “There’s no spells in this book that could reverse it, I believe.” You reply, flipping through the spellbook. “But… but we could try something else…?” You suggest, turning your head to look at him.

   “Like…?” He trailed off, brows creased. You turn to fully face him, and hesitantly you reach for his trousers. “We could do this the natural way…” you whisper, not wanting to make it awkward.

   Despite Hongjoong’s obvious distress, he looks at you with an unsure look. “We’re in public, Y/n,” he says, looking around the greenhouse.

   “But no one’s around, right?” You also look around, the rain had gotten heavier, and the doors to the greenhouse were closed. It was just you, Hongjoong, and the plants, along with the dim lights inside.

   Hongjoong gulped, feeling the knot in his stomach twist more before he nearly whined. “Please help me…”

   You didn’t waste time, he looked miserable. Your hands fumbled with the button and zipper of his trousers, then unclipped his suspenders. Your long, black French almond nails raked against his stomach, making him tense up. Hongjoong looked down at you as you cupped his painfully hard bulge, his eyes then fluttering shut as you rubbed him with your palm to at least soothe him.

   He let out a sensitive whimper. His hand then grabbed your jaw, pulling you up as he swooned down for a kiss, encasing your lips in his. At that moment your hand squeezed at the wet bulge in his underwear, feeling the beads of precum against your palm.

   With your finger hooked onto the waistband of his black underwear, and with one swift motion, you tugged it down to his midthighs. Pulling away from the kiss you cupped your hand under his lips, making him spit all his excess drool into it before taking his leaking, wet cock into said hand.

   Hongjoong whimpered again softly. Hair was already sticking to his sweaty forehead due to how strong the aphrodisiac was. He felt like he could cum untouched, but at the same time, it felt as if everything was holding itself in. The tip was drooling and deep red as if irritated, and as you started to pump his cock into your hand you could feel the veins on his shaft pulsating. You looked up at him, his pretty pink spit-covered lips slightly agape. He breathed like he was making noises, but only small broken whines and deep breaths left him. Certain strokes elicited no noises at all, his chest tightening and making him freeze, breath caught in his throat.

   Your eyes visibly dilated at the sight. He’s so pretty it hurts. You’ve taken note of your long-time friend, who was also your assistant’s beauty before, but you opted to keep the relationship platonic. This… is platonic, right? Having his pretty cock in your hand as he silently begs you to take care of the problem you caused him with your stupid mistake. Your honest but dumb mistake. A part of you was lowkey grateful about your unconsciousness though, because then you wouldn’t be here so close to him, seeing the drool dribble down his chin and eyebrows creasing in pain and pleasure. You could feel heat pool at your core, slick dripping onto your panties.

   “You alright, pretty?” You cooed softly, your free hand cupping his shoulder, your thumb rubbing against the fabric of his dress shirt. He let out a subtle nod, whining like a bitch in heat. The noise made your clit throb, your hole clenching around nothing. “You’re so pretty, Joongie..”

   You picked up the pace, running your thumbpad over his slit every time your hand got to his cockhead. You made sure to let your long nails brush against his full, purple-hued balls, and occasionally you would swoop down to massage them for a few seconds before coming back up and pumping his shaft again. Hongjoong sucked in a breath, biting the inside of his cheek. Your hand that was once on his shoulder went to the back of his neck, pulling him in for another kiss.

   Hongjoong slid his tongue into your mouth immediately. You could taste the bitterness from the potion when your tongue slid on his, forcing it into his mouth and running over the roof. Both moaned into each other’s mouths, and you grabbed his jaw, pulling back to spit in his mouth. Hongjoong swallowed it without hesitation, his hands trembling as his grip on the counter tightened.

   Your grip on his cock tightened. Your fingers felt every vein pulsate under your touch, and the shaft twitched. Your thighs shut against each other, and the hot slick gushed out your hole onto your panties, making a wet spot. You could feel a weighed pool, the aphrodisiac now in your system since you kissed Hongjoong.

   Eventually, you let off and unbuttoned your black Lolita-styled dress. Crossing your arms your fingers pinched at the shoulders of your sleeves, pulling them down until your breasts were exposed. Leaving a gentle kiss on his jaw you grazed your fangs down his neck, undoing his button-up and taking it off him. Hongjoong’s skin was covered in sweat, red and hot to the touch. His nipples erect under the caress of your hands, the buds feeling hard enough to hurt without any stimulation.

   Lifting your skirt you kneeled before him, making him lean against the counter for a better angle. You pulled off the rest of the top of your dress, bunching it to your waist as you unclipped your bra as well. Hongjoong’s eyes fluttered open, and he looked down at you.

   “W-What are you doing now?” he stuttered, watching you drool onto your tits. You look up at him and his lost expression, shaking your head. “Helping you, Joongie,” you mutter, rubbing your saliva over the valley of your mounds. Your hands running over your nipples make you moan, your cheeks heating to a pink flush. Hongjoong stutters out incoherent babbles, and his words are caught in his throat when your tits encase his cock between them, your mouth sealing around the cockhead. Hongjoong’s lips formed an ‘o’ shape, drool falling and directly hitting your tits. 

   You start to move, tongue swirling and gliding up and down his slit and tip, the salty, pearly beads of precum leaking into your tastebuds. Your hands hold firmly onto the sides of your boobs, guiding them up and down his shaft as your mouth goes to work on the head. Hongjoong’s shaky hands move from the counter, one raking up to move his wet hair and the other firmly seated on your head.

   “Y/n,” He moans out prettily, petting your hair. Your eyes flutter shut, focused on making him feel good while also trying to relieve him of the rather painful aphrodisiac. You moan softly around his cock, the vibrations of your hum making his balls tighten. Hongjoong whines out a pathetic “mm’ sorry-” before grabbing your head with both hands and shoving his cock down your throat. Your tits drop out of your hands and you choke a bit, taking a deep breath through your nose as he thrusts rather soppily, creaking out little ‘sorry’s and ‘please’s back to back. His voice cracked a couple of times, whimpering out your name. You grab onto his thighs, nails digging into the sides of them.

   Your chokes and gags on his cock echo throughout the greenhouse. The rather humid heat inside makes you yourself sweat as your hair sticks to your forehead and cheeks. You swallow around his cock, his head rubbing against the wet, plush oropharynx. 

   “G- I- gonna- gonna cum Y/n. m’ so close m’ gonna c-cum,” he whines, his thighs tensing up. He unintentionally pulls on your hair, making you whine out as tears sting your eyes. Your teeth nearly bite down on his cock, the slight graze making him stutter his hips.

   ‘F-Fuck do it again-” he whimpers. You suck and graze your teeth again over the veins of his cock, and without warning he spills into your mouth. You pull off, choking. His hands move to his cock, jerking desperately as his cum paints your face and hair. You squirm on your heels, your heels digging into your ass. You open your eyes and watch the last of his cum leak out, and you felt your nipples swell at the sight. Like before Hongjoong now grabbed your jaw, spitting whatever aphrodisiac he had left into your mouth. You swallowed, it was fair game.

   Getting up onto your now aching feet you let your dress pool at them, leaving you in your lace white panties. Both of you breathed heavily, your head against his chest as your arms ran down his biceps. His hands cupped your ass, pulling down your panties as he pressed his knee against your cunt.

   You whimpered, his knee rubbed against your clit before he lifted you up, sitting you down on the metal counter. The heat made you wince, sucking your teeth. 

   Hongjoong gave you no time to adjust, he hooked his arms under your knees and dragged you to the edge, opening your legs up for him. “H-have t’ fuck you,” he muttered, his cock still rock hard despite cumming seconds ago. 

   Your eyes met, irises fully taken up with dilated pupils as if you two were cats. You whimpered, and he spit on his hand, gathering your juices as he slid his hand up and down your slit. He entered a ringed finger into you, the cold silver eliciting a hiss from you. Pulling out he entered a second finger, both his ring and middle fingers curling up inside you. His fingers weren’t all that long but it felt so good. He managed to find spots inside your spongey walls that you hadn’t touched without having to go deep inside you, he was skillful in this as much as he was skillful with his large grand piano that he composed his music with.

   Hongjoong’s cock rubbed against the metal counter, the hot metal sending shivers down his spine as he felt his cock swell.

   When you had enough, you pulled off his fingers, grabbing his waist and pulling him to you. Hongjoong got the memo, slapping his wet cock onto your clit a few times before slowly inserting himself into your hole, making both of you let out loud gasps and whines. Hongjoong was average, about five and a half inches, but you could swear that when he went inside you you felt him grow to at least seven, or eight. His newfound girth stretched you out deliciously, and his manicured, painted nails raked against your thighs. Tears pricked at both your and Hongjoong’s eyes. He sniffled, his nose turning a shade of pink.

   “Fuck,” You whispered, laying against the counter. Your eyes fluttered shut, letting a couple of stray tears fall. Your gummy walls fluttered around him a few times before he started to move. His hands went to your swollen tits, fondling and massaging them. His palms were sweaty and covered in cum, fingers pinching and pulling at your nipples turning the hard buds to an irritated shade of red. 

   With every languid thrust, he hit deep inside you, balls touching the rim of your puckered asshole. The squelching noise of him moving inside you along with the soft claps of his balls against your ass made you feel lightheaded. Your assistant sniffled again above you, hand moving down to your waist as he started picking up the pace of his thrusts.

   Your hands moved to your fluid-covered face, covering your teary eyes as his cockhead hit into your cervix snuggly. You sniffled, opening your eyes to look up at the man above you, rutting into your pussy like a pup in heat.

   “You feel so good,” He sniffles, swallowing down whatever pathetic sound he may produce next. His head is thrown back, then falls forward as a babbling whine leaves his lips. “Wan m-make you feel g-good Y/n.”

   He sucks on the two fingers he used inside you before and rubs them on the rim of your ass before gently pushing inside. You gasp, moaning out loudly as he starts to move them rather languidly compared to his thrusts. The feeling of his cock hitting the right spots inside you quickly and his fingers in your ass going slow made you micro-orgasm, clenching around him as the genuine knot started to build in your tummy. “J-Joong-” You whimpered, before fluttering around his cock as you came, legs tensed up and wrapped around his waist. “Fuck it feels so good,” you sniffle again.

   Pulling his cock and fingers out you quickly sat up, shoving Hongjoong to a nearby discarded chair. You stumble off the counter, holding his shoulders as you open his legs, and hike a leg over his lap. Grabbing his face you stamp your lips against his once more, sinking down onto his cock. Despite just being connected the stretch makes both of you moan into each other's mouths, Hongjoong letting out a guttural, broken cry.

   You started to hump your clit against his pelvis, but that soon turned into bouncing heavily on his cock. The sound of wet slapping skin resonated loudly throughout the greenhouse, along with a now sobbing Hongjoong along with you. The rain attempting to drown out your sounds was almost futile, your head spinning and ears ringing. You didn’t want to stop, and neither did he. He pulled away from the kiss and grabbed your hips, guiding you up and down his shaft at his own pace.

   “Joong!” you cry out, holding the top rail with tears streaming down your flushed cheeks. His hands were firm on your hips, fingers tight enough you were sure it would cause bruising tomorrow. Your ass collided with his thighs harshly, causing red marks to appear on your plush and flushed ass cheeks.

   Lifting you and slightly hurling you over his shoulder, Hongjoong held your thighs, keeping your legs apart as he began pistoning up into you. You moaned at the sensation of being filled, physically feeling your womb protrude out from your stomach.

   Sitting you back down on him you started to bounce again, rather sloppily this time. Your lips formed in a pout as you whined, hums being produced every time his cockhead met your cum filled cervix.

   “D-Don’ wan’ stop,” you murmured, lips pressed against Hongjoong’s sweaty forehead in a sloppy forehead kiss. His black dilated eyes were glued onto you, tears also running down his cheeks. 

   You began grinding in circles, smothering his cock inside you. You both moaned out sweetly, fangs digging into your bottom lip drawing blood. Hongjoong reached upward, grasping your bottom lip with his teeth as he suckled on the blood. His tongue ran over your bottom lip before pulling away, looking up into your eyes. You started to bounce again, feeling your second orgasm impending.

   “all over y-your cock, Joongie,” you babble, your swollen lips blabbering nonsense as you clamp down onto him, the heavy bounces building up again.

   “Cum, please cum,” you whine, holding your orgasm back. “W-wan it all inside me.”

   Hongjoong started thrusting up again, syncing up in time with your bounces. It didn’t take much, as he started to spill inside your cunt once more, taking one of your breasts into his mouth. He suckled, and as you let go, milk flowed freely from your erect nipples. Hongjoong moaned at the sweet taste, lapping it all up.

   You shivered at the sensation, and Hongjoong pulled away with a pop as he flipped you over, bending you over the counter. With a smack to your ass, he entered your pussy from behind, grabbing a hold of your hair. “C-can’t stop-” he sobbed, pounding into you with no sign of slowing down any time soon. “Gonna keep cumming inside your fucking pussy.”

   “Please,” you whined, shutting your eyes. Your leaking tits raked against the metal counter, painting it a transparent white with your milk. Hongjoong’s hands sneaked from behind you, reaching around to grab your tits. Squeezing them, he pulled you up against his chest, his pelvis meeting the sore, red skin of your ass. Nonstop was he cumming again and again back to back. Your womb visibly protruded, sticking out like a sore thumb. He wrapped one arm around your tits, the other snaking down and feeling at your tummy, feeling the way his cock slid up and down inside you. 

   You came again for a third time without warning, legs shaking. Your eyes rolled back to the inside of your head, and a fourth came on when he didn’t stop.

   “O-oh- oh fuck!” Hongjoong cried, stilling inside you. You fell forward, grasping the counter. You felt his cock literally knot inside you. It grew in size and locked in you like a key. Cum filled you to the brim, you felt like you could vomit from how full you were. Hongjoong was shaking behind you, and he fell forward as well, arms caging you. 

   He whimpered softly, sniffling. Heavy pants and sniffles were shared between you as the last of his cum was milked from him. He finally started to soften, and slowly pulled out of you as your minds went back to being levelheaded. His cock departed with a soft, wet pop, and loads of cum pumped out of you in what felt like gallons onto the floor below.

   “Gosh…” He breathed out, taking a deep sigh. Your legs trembled, and you, exhausted, kept yourself laying forward on the counter.

   “S-So full,” You murmured, the last of his cum spilling out before your womb felt relieved again. Your skin cooled down, the aphrodisiac starting to wear off on the both of you.

   Hongjoong gently scooped you up and sat you down into his lap, as you both regained clarity. He nuzzled his nose into your hair, closing his eyes.

   “Thank you,” He murmured softly.

   “I'll be careful next time,” you murmur back, taking deep breaths.

   “Yeah, make sure it's afèconder, not fèconder.”

[anonfandombandit]

hi. I wanted to reach out privately to ask whether you are using AI to write any of your fics. me and a few others are concerned you may be using AI to aid you in writing. some of the proof we have gathered:

excessive use of dashes and semi colons in a way that a human would not use them

repetitive use of certain words and phrases like 'smirks' 'thunderous' 'says softly' 'her eyes were piercing'

chapters being 20-30000+ words written in a short time frame

not using a beta reader who would pick up use of AI in your writing

using AI evasion tools to avoid AI checkers

please clarify if you are using generative AI when writing because its damaging to the writing community and you should be declaring if you are using it

I’ve been debating how to respond to this for a while now. I’ll be honest, when I first read it, I laughed. My first immediate thought was “wow, guess this makes me a real agathario writer now” because is it not a right of passage to get accused of using AI in this community?

Really, though, I’m kind of insulted. Bitterly so. So much so that I’m too offended to even feel really angry or upset. The fact you have sent this anonymously and “privately” is proof enough to me that you are not actually concerned, and have malicious intent. Who exactly are these “few other people” you are talking about? Why not post this publicly with your name behind it, if you’re so confident in your accusations? Doing so anonymously is, frankly, cowardly.

To make it incredibly clear - No. I don’t use AI in any of my fics. I literally work in academia where we are allergic to AI use. It’s false authorship. Using it in my career would end it. I’ve been writing fics for half of my life, I’d like to think I don’t need to rely on shitty AI prose and dialogue to tell a story. And I’m fully aware of how damaging AI use is to fic writers which is why I am vehemently against it. I’ve spoken to several other writers in the coven about how much I hate it.

Your proof is hilarious. Yes, I like semi colons and dashes. That’s my writing style. Is my use of the Oxford comma also suspicious to you? I also have favourite phrases and words I like to use, like every other writer. The 20k/30k chapters you are talking about were written in, on average, a month, so that’s ~1k words written a day which any other writer could tell you is possible. Also need I remind you that the 30k chapter was written while I was off work and bed-bound with pneumonia? So yeah, I might have had a little more free time to write in February and March.

I do my own editing rather than having a beta reader because throwing a novella at them to give feedback on would be insane. And I can only assume you are saying I’m using “AI evasion tools” (which…. What. What are you talking about) because you tried to use an AI detector on my fics and they came back with nothing. Because guess what. I don’t use AI. Because I love my fics.

Anyway. Guess I’m just going to feel bitter for a while over this. I was planning on scaling back my writing anyway in the summer since my PhD thesis writing period is approaching, but I might just start now. I’ll be focusing on safeword, hopeless and fragile things for the moment. I might write some short fics for AAA week but probably won’t find the time.

Thanks to everybody who has been so supportive and patient with me and my fic posting. I know it sucks that you have to wait so long between chapters, especially for safeword. But part of why they take so long is because I don’t want to rush writing them. I really appreciate everyone who has reached out to tell me how much my fics mean to them and how you have enjoyed them.

[criticallyacclaimedstranger]

You Need Only Ask [professor!Marcus Pike x librarian!reader]

Read on Ao3

Pairing: History of Art professor Marcus Pike x art library reader/you (cishet female)

Tags/Warnings: Kind of pining idiots but only one is pining, everyone is being professional but it's clear that Marcus is a pining idiot, implied coworkers to lovers.

Summary: Professor Marcus Pike is one of those cliché absent-minded professors - or so you think, but maybe there's another reason why this brilliant academic is acting a dumb fool around you?

Words: 3,534

A/N: This was inspired by an ask sent to me by @just-here-for-the-moment for a fic ask game thingy. Here's the original ask and my reply. I didn't write it exactly like that (main difference is my fic is set in modern times), but I hope y'all still like it!

”Good morning.”

Your customer service smile in place, you look over your shoulder.

”Morning, Professor. Just give me a second and I will be right with you.”

He hums, and you turn back to the bookcase where you were just about to finish re-shelving returns. Once done, you join Marcus Pike, Professor of Art History, at the desk. He’s tapping his fingers, almost impercievably, against the surface of the old solid wood desk, and you stifle a sigh. He didn’t have to wait that long.

”What can I do for you?” you ask politely. Professor Pike is never rude, but he is the typical professor type: absent-minded, a little awkward, his research always the number one priority.

“I looked for this book in the online catalog, but as I suspected, you don’t have it. It’s probably sold out, too.” He gives you a piece of paper before both his hands disappear into his pockets.

“Another inter-library loan, then?” you state, looking at the title. It’s in French, and you know immediately that your library doesn’t have it. Professor Pike is not the most computer-skilled person, so you usually double-check every book he asks for in the database, but this one you know you don’t have.

“Might have to go international for this one,” you tell him. “Canada och Europe. That’s coming out of your department’s budget, you know that.”

“I’ll make room,” he shrugs, looking towards the door, like he can’t wait to get back to the comfort of his own office. “And could you please give me more time with the last one you got for me? I need it for a bit longer.”

“I’ll contact the lending library,” you nod. “I’ll let you know.”

“Great. Thank you.”

The “Sure thing” has barely left your mouth before Pike is out the door, the sound of his steps against the stone floor quickly disappearing down the hall. You shake your head before sitting down to look up the book for him.

As you work, you once again wonder how people like Marcus Pike get jobs at all. Someone as introverted as that would never have a real shot at getting a library job, which requires people skills, patience, and the ability to stand in front of people. But when it comes to academia, it seems like all you need is credentials and a good research profile, and you’re hired. Unlike you, who had to fight tooth and nail for this position. You have Master’s degrees in art and library science, educational and language studies, job experience, and it was still almost impossible to get this job. People who have these jobs never seem to retire but just sit there, year after year, until they eventually sprout roots that fasten them to their chairs.

But you’re here now, since five years, and while Pike’s predecessor never showed his face in the library but sometimes sent you cryptical emails requests that took you half a day to decipher, it’s nice to see that the much younger professor actually frequents the university’s special arts library.

Finally locating Pike’s book in a university library in France, you quickly find the instructions for ILL’s, and send a loan request. After that, you apply for more time for Pike’s previous book, and by afternoon, you have confirmation for both books: one will be mailed out later during the day in Europe, the other has been renewed. You let Pike know through an email, before performing closing duties in the library. Your computer pings just as you’re about to turn it off, and you see that it’s a reply from Pike. Clicking it up, you see the very unlikely response:

>>Amazing, what a service. Just bill the department, I’ve got it covered. Thank you so much 😊 <<

Shaking your head in disbelief at the informal tone, you turn off the computer, clock out, and go home.

Professor Pike is back two days later, now asking for a book that’s available. When you tell him so, he clears his throat, gaze flickering away from you.

“Could you maybe show me where it is?”

“Sure.” You’re curt, because this isn’t the first time. It’s an easy enough book to find, and every item in the library is labeled, and the database even has an interactive feature where you can click on the item’s call number to open up a layout of the stacks, showing the correct shelf in red. It has freed you up a lot now that most patrons can easily find their literature themselves, but some people just want you to do everything for them.

“You know, Professor, you could maybe my start of term library tour useful,” you dare to tease him as you walk before him to the right case. “Most freshmen find it very helpful, and they can usually manage their own information retrieval after.”

“I think maybe a little touch-up course would do me good,” he replies, voice a little tight. “But I like personal service.”

You find the book, pull it out, and hand it to him.

“That’s what I’m here for,” you tell him easily. “Anything else I can do for you?”

He swallows visibly.

“No, thank you.”

He uses the self check-out this time, and leaves quickly without saying goodbye. You shake your head, and catch the eye of Mandy, a Master’s student who works on her thesis in the library almost every day.

“Strange fellow, that one, isn’t he?”

She gives you a peculiar look. “I guess so.”

One thing that you appreciate a lot about your job is the building itself. The campus was built in Collegiate Gothic style in the middle of the 19th century, and compared to the nearby city library with its white surfaces, glass walls, and modern design furniture, the much quieter arts library still seems more alive. The library houses more books than one would think when first seeing it, and it has the charming nooks and crannies that are so common for old houses.

You’re standing in one of those nooks one day; an alcove that houses folios, a cart of tall books parked next to the step stool that you’re standing on. You hear someone enter the library, shout out a “Hello!” as you usually do to let patrons know that you’re in the stacks, and receive a low answer. Mindful not to hurt your wrists, you pick up another folio from the cart, and put it back in its place.

The sound of footsteps stops at the desk, and you pick up the next book.

“Be right with you!”

The patron moves again, slowly walking towards the corner where you are, as if looking for you. You turn your head just as you see Professor Pike come around the corner of a bookcase.

“Oh,” he clears his throat. “There you are.”

“Here I am,” you nod, picking up the next book. “Almost done.”

“I got your email about the book from France. They sent it rather fast.”

“I was surprised, too,” you admit. There’s one book left, and you really should get down from the stool, move it, and get up again, but you’re lazy. You reach, getting up on your toes, just barely getting the book into place when you feel the stool slip from under you. You gasp, a thousand thoughts rushing through your head during the split second you’re in free fall, and then you land softly, not on the floor, but against a corduroy chest, strong arms holding you.

“Shit, that was close!”

You’re tongue-tied, wide-eyed with shock, heart in your throat and going a mile a minute to make up for the missed beats.

“Are you okay?”

You slowly start to realize that you’re in the arms of Marcus Pike, who caught you when you fell from the stool. And he’s still holding you.

“Yeah, I, yeah, fine, I’m good.” You babble, moving uncomfortably to let him know to let you down, which he does with the utmost care. Your legs are wobbly, and Pike keeps a hand on your waist to make sure you won’t fall.

“Are you sure?”

“Positive,” you now giggle, embarrassed but simultaneously exhilarated by the rush of adrenaline. “That wasn’t stupid at all, was it? I’ve been thinking about having that stool replaced, but I never got around to it, haha. I guess it takes an accident for me to get my thumb out of my a-, I mean, to get it done.”

Your cheeks are heating up, your hands are shaking as you grab the handles of the cart, kicking the accursed stool to the side.

“That was really scary, though,” Pike tells you in a low voice. “You could’ve really injured yourself.”

“Yeah, thanks, I mean, thanks for catching me.” You bite your lower lip and force yourself to look at him. “I’m so embarrassed. I should’ve been more careful.”

“Just glad I was here,” he shrugs, slowly following you as you march to the desk. “Although one could argue that had I not been here, you wouldn’t have tried to restack that heavy book without moving your stool. Sorry if I stressed you.”

“You didn’t,” you tell him lightly. “I sometimes cut corners like that. It’s fine, no harm done.”

You park the cart in its spot behind the desk, and turn to the shelf of reserved books.

“Here’s your inter-library loan. Due date four weeks from now, if you need it for longer, you know the drill.”

“I do,” he replies quietly and accepts the book from you. Holding it in one hand, he carefully opens it with the other, and thoughtfully browses through it. You sit down, flustered and still a little shaky, hoping that he’ll leave so that you can nurse your wounded pride, and maybe have a drink of water.

“It’s about these eighteenth-century art frauds in Europe – “

“I know. I read the title,” you cut him off, more curt than you meant to. Pike closes the book and nervously fingers the paper slip in it.

“You read French?”

“I even speak it.”

A smile breaks out on his face. “Of course you do.”

You stare at him, frowning as you try to understand what his deal is, and why he’s suddenly smiling like that. It’s never happened before.

And you’ve never noticed what a charming smile he has. It reveals a dimple in his right cheek that makes him look younger than he is – not that he’s old in any way, he must be around your age, somewhere between forty and fifty. The smile makes you even more shaky, and you can’t stop staring at him. He eventually notices, the smile dies down, and he lowers his eyes.

“Well, thanks,” he mumbles, turning around and walking away briskly, leaving you to stare after him, wondering what the hell happened.

Mandy comes in from her lunch break, waves a hello, then stops when she sees you.

“Is everything okay?”

You nod dismissively. “I’m fine, Mandy. I just… almost fell from a stool. But no harm done.”

She expresses her sympathies before going to the study area. You take a deep breath, and disappear into the back room for a glass of water.

There’s tittling in the stacks, but you don’t pay it any mind: it’s part of library life, especially on a campus filled with hormonal young adults. It’s not until your hear Professor Pike’s name mentioned that you stop writing on your keyboard, and strain to hear better.

“He’s the best lecturer here.”

“And he’s so fucking hot, don’t you think?”

“Cara! He’s a million years old!”

“No, he’s not, he’s like the youngest of the faculty, except for Langley, but she’s a woman.”

“Well, I’m bi, and she’s fine too.”

Shameless giggling ensues, and you have to stifle one as well.

“Wouldn’t mind doing some extra credit for Professor Pike…”

“That’s so tacky, Mindy.”

“Come on, like you haven’t thought about it.”

The girls appear from the stacks, carrying literature over to the self service check-out.

“I just think that his lectures are amazing. He can explain literally anything so that I get it. And he knows so much.”

You stare at your screen, but you’re listening to the students.

“He should lecture more, why doesn’t he have any classes?”

“Dug, because he’s a professor, he has other things to do.”

“I’d give him something to do…”

More giggling.

“I’m serious! I ended upw atching that Youtube lecture twice just because he’s so good!”

The girls borrow their books while talking, then nod good-bye to you as they leave. You nod back, then hit up Youtube, and type in Professor Marcus Pike.

You find a video of him giving a lecture on the history of art, and open it. And your jaw drops.

The man in the video is confident without being cocky, talkative, engaging, contact-seeking. He speaks clearly, even drops a couple of jokes, and he walks around the podium in the auditorium. If it wasn’t for that corduroy jacket with the leather patches at the shoulders, the one that you had enveloped around yourself last week, you wouldn’t have recognized the man.

You close the video and chew your lower lip. You always thought Pike was this nutty professor who didn’t know how to behave around people and preferred books to socializing. But the man in the video is nothing like that. So what is his problem when talking to you?

Navigating to Facebook, you search his name, finding him easily enough. He doesn’t seem to be very active, but his professional profile is listed.

His status is set to “single”, which surprises you, but you think no further of it. You click on to photos, finding only a few, most of them outdated.

“Good afternoon.”

You look up, startled at the familiar voice. Seeing Marcus Pike’s face, you close the browser window quickly.

“Sorry,” he quickly apologizes. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”

“No worries, I was just… working.”

He clears his throat. “I’d like to return this.”

You accept the book from him, recognizing it as one of his previous ILL’s.

“Thank you.”

A couple of students come in, saying hello to both of you before disappearing into the stacks, phones in hand, library catalog probably open in their mobile browsers. Marcus looks after them, moving his weight from one foot to the other. You put the book to the side.

“Anything else I can do for you, Professor?”

He almost jumps at the sound of your voice.

“Um, no, thank you, I have to get back to work, grad student coming to see me, um, thanks, I’ll let your know if I need anything.”

He leaves the library, and you’re almost laughing. What the hell was that?

As soon as the students have found and borrowed their books, and you’re alone in the library with Mandy, she gets up and comes over to the desk. You smile your mild customer service smile at her, but she returns it with a wry grin.

“You know that he likes you right?”

You blink, not understanding. “Excuse me?”

“Professor Pike. He likes you.”

You shake your head to show her that you have no idea what she’s talking about, and she laughs.

“Oh, come on! The way he stutters and stumbles when he’s here. And he talks about you all the time, every chance he gets.”

“He what?” Your voice goes up, and you clamp your mouth shut. Mandy nods.

“He always tells us to use the library, and ask you for help. The librarian there is really competent, we’re lucky to have such a professional at our service, that sort of thing.”

“Why do you think that means he likes me?” you ask, cheeks heating up. This is stupid, this girl is half your age, and you’re talking like both of you are in middle school.

“Because he’s super confident in class, in meetings, whenever he talks to anyone, except you.”

“That doesn’t mean anything.”

“Hello!” Mandy rolls her eyes. “Earth to librarian lady! He’s like a flustered cinnamon bun whenever he’s around you – “

“Cinnamon bun?” you interrupt her, incredulously.

“Cutie patootie in old folk speech,” Mandy smirks at you, and you scoff.

“I know what a cinnamon bun is.”

“Whatever. He comes here constantly, doesn’t he? I sit here most days, and no other faculty member visits as much. He’s here practically every day, asking you the simplest questions. He’s into you.”

“I… don’t know what you’re talking about, Mandy,” you mumble, hands fidgeting in your lap.

“Alright, if you say so,” she smirks. “But I know what I’d do if I were you.”

Later, when she leaves the library, wishing you a good weekend, you open up the browser window again, Pike smiling charmingly at you from his profile picture. You look at it for a long time before logging out, and getting up to reshelf returns.

Friday afternoon in the library makes for slow hours. It’s usually empty – even Mandy has left – and while it gives you the opportunity to prepare for next week, there are Fridays when you’d rather just close up, if you could, and go home early.

A quarter to four, when you’re impatiently tapping your foot for closing time, Marcus Pike shows up again. Mandy’s words echo in your head, making you nervous for the first time, but you manage to suppress that, instead turning on your professional persona.

“Back so soon?” you ask him lightly

“Yeah, I need a book.” He seems to understand himself how stupid that sounded.

“You’ve come to the right place.”

He tells you the title, and you look it up.

“It’s in, call number N5198-5299,” you inform him, then looking up at his hesitant expression. “It’s in the corner over there.”

“Um, could you show me? I’m not good at this.”

“Okay.” You get up and walk around the desk. “But it’s a class that you use a lot, Professor, you should be accustomed to it by now.”

“Marcus.”

“What’s that?”

“Call me Marcus. I don’t much like titles anyway.”

“Uh-huh.”

You take him to the right stacks, walking in between the heavy cases. It’s a tight squeeze, this one, and the book is located further in. You pick it out, and turn around, only to find Marcus standing right behind you.

You’ve been in this situation before, many times even. Worst times were when you worked in the city library, and creeps would crowd you between the stacks, not trying anything but coming closer than necessary.

Your heart misses a beat, but you’re not uncomfortable. Instead, you smell something familiar and comforting, something besides old paper, leather covers, and ink. It takes you a moment to realize that it’s Marcus’s cologne, the corduroy, his shampoo: earthy but fresh, a little like the forest after rain, but with an undertone of old leather armchair.

You wet your lips, and hold up the book he asked for.

“Your book.”

“Thank you.” He doesn’t take it, so you lower your hand. He clears his throat, but this time, he doesn’t look away, but straight into your eyes.

“I was wondering…”

“Yeah?” you breathe.

“There’s this classic movie festival this weekend, and I was wondering…”

“If I wanted to go with you?” you finish his sentence for him, as he takes too long for you to wait. He blinks, then smiles that sweet smile again.

“Exactly. Yes. Would you?”

“I’d like that.”

“Really?” The smile seems to broaden even more.

“Sure. Tomorrow?”

“Perfect. I can pick you up, if you want to. At six?”

“Perfect,” you echo, now smiling widely yourself. He exhales, like he’s been holding his breath this entirely time.

“Perfect.”

The desk phone rings, startling both of you. The book falls from your hand, and you look down at it, then up at Marcus.

“I need to get that.”

“Of course,” he nods. You make a little movement with your head.

“I need to get past you, Marcus?”

“Oh, yes, of course, sorry.”

He backs out from between the cases, letting you out as well. His cologne seems to rub off on your arm when you brush past him, hurrying to the desk. You answer the phone and try to focus on the person calling, take a couple of notes, and end the call just as Marcus comes walking to the desk, book in hand. You check it out for him, give him your number, and he smiles again as he thanks you. You follow him to the door so that you can close up after him.

“I’ll call,” he promises as he steps out. You nod, hand on the door handle.

“Looking forward to it.”

He raises the book as a farewell, then starts walking down the corridor. You’re about to close the door when you suddenly step out, calling his name.

“Marcus!”

He turns around immediately, and now that he’s standing with his back straight, instead of hunched over, you notice how tall and broad-shouldered he is.

“Yes?”

“For the record… you’re into me, right?”

He chuckles, his ears turning pink. “Yeah, I’m into you.”

“Just checking,” you grin. “See you tomorrow.”

[hrrtshape]

okay. that was a LOT but your questions were elite. 10/10. feel free to send more. 💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌

so happy u said this bc i have more questions and wonders ✨💕

what was the ministry of magic like? what things did you see/do for your politics class? i’d like to know about the weirder ministry jobs, like mr weasley worked in the muggle artefact office… what do u even do in there??

what’s it liked being around ghosts? can you put your hand straight through them or is that considered inappropriate 😭

was there anything you were super excited about before you shifted, but then once you got there you realised it wasn’t that exciting? or things you didn’t even think about and they ended up being the most exciting things?

you might’ve been able to tell from my questions about witch princesses and wizard cavemen that i’m super into history, so magic history makes my head explode. i’d love to know about witch hunts, and how did muggles and wizards learn to just leave eachother alone? of course the muggle governments must know about witches and wizards, so how does it remain a secret?

also would love to know about the owl airforce ???? how does that even work???? how do they know where to take the letter? and how would you get a big parcel delivered somewhere?

and and and the soap blizzard!!!! what even happened there? 🧼

what kind of wizard diseases or viruses can you get? and is there anything that’s not curable?

what’s your favourite spell? omg and is there witch makeup? or cool jewellery that does weird things?

have you learnt about boggarts and if so what’s yours? you don’t have to answer that one it might be quite deep lol but did anyone in the class have any weird fears?

LAST ONE i promise 😭 the triwizard tournament…. is that happening whilst you’re at school? also is it always the same activities? fighting a dragon, diving into the lake, running through a maze? or is there more? and what’s the worst thing that’s ever happened during a tournament?

okay i’m done thank u so much😭😭😭😭😭😭 do you know when you plan to shift next? or do u just decide before u go to sleep? 💓💓💓💓 love u thank u 💓💓💓 sorry if there’s any typos

oh my god !!!?!??? no this is actually the best set of questions i’ve ever received. this is exactly what i want.

the ministry of magic: a mess. think about every government building you’ve ever seen and then imagine it’s also enchanted to be deeply inconvenient. the atrium is gorgeous, very gilded-age-opulence-meets-dark-academia, but the deeper you go, the weirder it gets. the politics class (which i've interconnected with history of magic which is WHY it's so interesting to me) field trip was mostly a tour, but we did get to see some actual policymaking in action,,,, though by policymaking, i mean a group of wizards arguing about cauldron thickness regulations like it was life or death. (to be fair, they take that seriously because faulty cauldrons have, quote, “led to a concerning rise in explosions.” so.)

as for weird ministry jobs, there are loads. the muggle artefact office, where mr weasley worked. then there’s the unspeakables, who work in the department of mysteries and don’t tell anyone what they actually do (suspicious). and my personal favourite: the wizarding equivalent of health and safety inspectors, who go around making sure people aren’t running blatantly dangerous shops. (they are always running blatantly dangerous shops.)

ghosts: yes??? you can technically put your hand through them, but it’s kind of like sticking your hand in a freezer full of dry ice. cold, weirdly tingly, and generally not the vibe. also yes, it’s wildly inappropriate. they hate it. it’s the ghost equivalent of someone coming up to you and just. poking you in the forehead. (peeves, however, has no such etiquette and flies through people all the time just to be annoying.)

pre-shifting excitement vs reality: okay this is so real because i swear i thought i’d be most excited about, like, potions class or going to diagon alley. but actually the best things were the tiny details. the staircases of the astronomy tower that groan like old men when you step on them, the way your wand feels like an extension of your hand, the smell of old parchment and candlewax in the common room. and the most overrated thing,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, quidditch matches. i’m sorry. they sound fun from an observers perspective, but have you ever sat in a freezing cold stadium for hours while tiny specks zoom around in the distance? it’s like watching football but worse because at least with football you can see the ball. i can say this with confidence because i would be dragged to watch coryo practise. it's way more fun when you're actually flying

wizard history: oh my god you’re my favourite person because magic history is insane. the witch hunts, yeah, those were a joke. wizards figured out very quickly that muggle fire did basically nothing to them, so it turned into a game of “how many times can i get burned at the stake before they get bored.” the international statute of secrecy (which made the wizarding world go into hiding) happened in 1692 because wizards were not being subtle and the muggles were starting to get suspicious. most muggle governments do know about magic, but they act like it’s classified top-secret information, which is hilarious because wizards are so bad at staying hidden.

owl postal service: i cannot stress enough how much faith they put into these birds. if you send a letter, you don’t tell the owl where to go. you just hand it over and trust that it has some kind of divine bird gps. same with parcels, except for massive ones, you’d probably send multiple owls or just use floo powder like a normal person. (except no one is normal. they will always choose the most dramatic delivery method possible.)

the soap blizzard: ended up writing the whole history on this but. in short: soap storm, bubble bursts, economy crashes. a messy chapter in wizarding history.

wizard diseases: loads, and some of them are horrific. spattergroit is like wizard chickenpox but worse, with actual purple pustules (vom). there’s also dragon pox, which is basically the flu but it turns you green and scaly before it kills you. most things are curable if you get to st mungo’s fast enough, but some, like lycanthropy (werewolf-ism), are more of a long-term situation.

favourite spell + wizard fashion: wingardium leviosa is the most useful spell in existence. i am lazy. i want things to float for me. as for wizard fashion, makeup is a huge thing, but it’s mostly subtle. like lip stains that last for days or eyeliner that applies itself perfectly every time. jewellery is insane. enchanted necklaces that hum when someone lies to you, rings that heat up when danger is near, bracelets that glow different colours depending on your mood. absolutely sick. luv it.

boggarts: mine is… dot dot dot a mystery just because i'm not ready to share it yet. but some people in class had truly bizarre ones. like, one kid’s biggest fear was a plate of raw fish (unclear if it was the texture or just an innate hatred of sushi). another girl’s boggart was a slightly larger version of herself. ed culture was still a thing in hogwarts. somehow.

triwizard tournament: tragically, no, it didn’t happen while i was there. but from what i’ve heard, the tasks do change sometimes. there’s always an endurance challenge, a test of magical skill, and something deeply psychologically cruel (because why not). worst thing to ever happen? in 1792, all three champions got eaten by a cockatrice. which, yk. not ideal.

shifting plans: depends!!!!! sometimes i plan it out, sometimes i just go eh, vibes and decide that night. but you best believe i’m already scheming my next trip.

this was an elite interrogation. thank YOU. 💓💓💓💓💓💓

[arioko]

aizawa experienced a quirk awakening, specifically during shirakumo’s death.

analysis? insane ramblings?? me looking too deep into things??? these all can be true. let’s just get into the meat and potatoes of this first and foremost.

quirk awakenings in my hero academia are usually defined by a quirk either gaining new abilities or going beyond the original scope of the quirk. an example of this is when toga found out she could use the quirks of people she transformed into, or dabi finding out he also had an ice aspect to his quirk similar to shoto. these awakenings are extremely rare, are only seem to happen during traumatic, life threatening circumstances.

one of the most recognizable things about aizawa is how his hair and capture weapon will float whenever he uses his quirk, and something i don’t think i’ve seen anyone else point out is the fact that in vigilantes, during the school days arc, teen aizawa’s erasure doesn’t do this at all.

these are two of the instances where we see teen aizawa use his quirk, and his hair and capture weapon don’t levitate like they usually do. “maybe they forgot,” and here’s the thing, i don’t think that’s the case? like i said earlier, aizawa’s floating hair and scarf are one of the most recognizable aspects of his design, to the point that in universe deku even points it out. betten court, the artist of vigilantes, had been drawing aizawa for 50+ chapters at this point, so i sincerely doubt he genuinely forgot to add this.

even here, for a second you think that his hair is floating here, but then you see that he’s actively moving and that’s why he’s hair is flowing backwards. almost like they’re tricking you into thinking that it’s floating before showing you what’s actually happening.

so, basically, back when aizawa was a teenager, his quirk didn’t do any sort of levitation effect. which, eventually, leads to this.

the first time we ever see aizawa’s quirk do the levitation effect, it’s during one of the most traumatic moments of his life, the garvey fight. this was specifically after he had witnessed shirakumo’s death.

and when do quirk awakenings usually happen? after extremely traumatic experiences. which was what aizawa had experienced just seconds before. keep in mind that aizawa was so on edge during the fight that he (supposedly) hallucinated shirakumo’s voice cheering him on. there was most likely multiple other physical things going on as a result of the stress and adrenaline rush, so a quirk awakening isn’t exactly too extreme here.

how does this aid his quirk? i dunno, but it falls into the quirk awakening category by virtue of the fact that it wasn’t something his quirk was thought to be capable of doing prior to the event. we aren’t sure if erasure worked differently when aizawa was younger.

so, tl:dr, teen aizawa’s erasure didn’t cause a levitation effect, however, after witnessing shirakumo’s death, it caused a quirk awakening which created the levitation effect we see in the present.

[bambisnc]

     the prettiest to me . . . ♡

### . STARRING ⌢ s.jh ⋆ hurt/comfort + 0.8k // use of "girl" + unspec. insecurities + vaguely academia/official setting implied ˖ ✧ REQ : ✩

🗨️ .. ⌞ XOXO ⌝ guys ur all The nicest n prettiest ppl. btw + [m.list]

you didn’t hear him at first. the sound of your own thoughts, heavy and cacophonic successfully drowning out everything else. the only thing you had wanted was to get home as soon as possible, to be away from the weight of the tiring day.

away from the whispers. away from the way your reflection in the glass window seemed to taunt you, reminding you of every insecurity inducing aspect of yourself that you’d been trying so hard to ignore.

and then, a voice cut through the muted hum of conversations and soft shuffles of people leaving the room, shattering your daze.

“y/n.” 

shin junghwan's voice is soft when it calls out to you. soft enough that you can pretend to just not have heard it. you’ll deal with him later, when you’re more coherent and there aren’t tears threatening to tip over the second you dare to blink. you resolutely continue walking towards the door. 

but then, a surprisingly strong grip on your wrist causes your movements to stop and in one swift motion, you’re all but pulled back, ending up face to face with him.

“i’m talking to you.”

his intense gaze is fixed on yours and you find yourself almost incapable of breaking away. before you can even begin to muster up some sort of a defense, make some kind of excuse if nothing else, he speaks up. 

“you’ve been ignoring me. blowing me off whenever i tried to say something to you. d'you really forget how long we’ve been friends for? of course i noticed how stressed you’ve been these days. i ... i don’t know what it is exactly that’s troubling you but please, please let me help.”

to be fair, you hadn’t meant for it to get this bad. it had been easy enough to brush questions off at first, to wave away concerns with a vague laugh. you knew lying to him was out of question though. he knew you too well. so, fine, yes, maybe you were avoiding him.

however, being backed up in a corner like this by shinyu, the least confrontational person you knew, was apparently jarring enough for you to end up mumbling out your thoughts. how you didn’t feel comfortable with your appearance, how you ended up overhearing some .. comments which only further fed your insecurities and led to you not really knowing what to do with yourself. 

when you finally allow yourself to look up and gauge his reaction ... the way his grip on your wrist loosens abruptly, the absolute shock on his face almost makes you laugh.

“... seriously? from – from all the things i thought you would be upset about ..,” he steps back slightly, his tone incredulous as he studies your entire profile, “i really didn’t think it would be your appearance..

..i don’t get it. you have to know whatever that person said was absolute bullshit, right? you’re – you’re literally perfect. trust me when i say that i, of all the people possible, i would know better. how could i not?

“wait, but-,” you try to interject, but your attempts are to no avail.

“i swear to god, the only flaw you could possibly have is that you don’t see how amazing you are. but- y/n …,” he sighs, shoulders dropping slightly, “i just wish you could see yourself the way i see you. ”

“junghwan.” your voice is slightly shaky, unsure. “look, i… i do appreciate the sentiment really, but… what – what did you mean by that .. emphasis?...”

“...”

“junghwan?”

his voice is steady as he answers, albeit quiet, “right. i knew this would happen one day. i like you. a lot. have, ever since i met you actually.”

“oh.”

“you don’t have to say anything,” junghwan rushes to add, “i don’t expect an answer, really. i just… i just want you to stop being so hard on yourself. please.”

“... no promises," you say after a pause. “... but i swear i’ll do my best.”

“i’ll be here to remind you, then. as many times as you want.” he leans in, silently seeking permission before pressing a featherlight kiss to your forehead.

“shinyu, i…,” you can’t help but falter slightly, the warmth emanating from him making it a little more difficult to search for the right words. “just- wait for me okay? i clearly have things to work through. but i don’t want to lose you.”

“you won’t,”  he promptly reassures, “you’re stuck with me forever.”

that finally gets a laugh out of you. “that’s perfect, then.”

junghwan cups your face in his hands, allowing your forehead to rest against his. “hey." "i’m looking at you right now,” he murmurs, voice barely more than a whisper. “and you’re the prettiest girl in the world.”

𐙚 . regulars : none yet! ⋆

[@bambisnc] 2k24

[marzipanandminutiae]

Dark academia is completely meaningless as an aesthetic term, because the aesthetic you’re thinking of is found in many places that are not public institutions of higher learning or scholarship (public as opposed to “in somebody’s house for the exclusive use of them and people they invite in” which does not count in my mind as academia), and many public institutions of higher learning or scholarship are nothing like that visually

Literally just call it “vintage preppy Gothic” or some thing; I don’t know. Dark academia is useful as a term for a fictional genre, where academia is actually present and something dark happens regardless of that place’s aesthetic, and nothing else. I will die on this hill

I went to a university that had been hit hard by brutalism in the 1970s. Are you going to try to tell me that wasn’t academia? And yet it looked nothing like the whole “leather satchels and Oxford architecture“ vibe that you see at all those mood boards.

It’s almost like… There is no such thing… As an Academia Aesthetic… so it’s not a good term to apply to aesthetics in general…wow

[wangxianficfinder]

Fic Finder

Oct 25th

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1. Hi. I’m looking for a fic and I don’t have a ton to go on, so here’s hoping someone knows which fic! I’m looking for a canon divergence, possibly a fix it or time travel fix it. It’s NOT the dynasty fic where WWX is WRH nephew and he disappears from the lectures. The specific scene I have in my mind is WWX avoiding the arriving sects at night less city, no one knows he’s been with the dafan wen or I guess where he had been. I know it makes a point to stress he’s dressed with care and in robes that are much nicer than he ever had with the jiang, I know they are using wen yuan to distract him bc he’s nervous about madam yu and the jiang arriving, I know wen Qing gives him an aggressive supportive pep talk in an inner courtyard while he basically is sitting there catastrophising. I can’t remember who is meant to be the wen sect leader, whether it’s wen Qing, wen Ning, or popo or maybe WWX?? I don’t think HE is the sect leader. LWJ might know he’s there and anticipating the sects arriving as well because he’s nervous how people will react seeing him there. I can’t remember if when Qing and wen Ning are time travelers. It’s KILLING MEEEE. I’ve been hunting thru my bookmarks and all the tags I can think of and I’m not finding anything. I know it’s complete and most likely over 20k words. (I’m wondering now if it’s that one he uses a talisman to make a lightning trap to save dafan village from a legendary beast??? And there’s flooding?? And LWJ and JWY happen upon him afterwards Idk I could be wrong) @takemitchyleaps

FOUND? We'll Build A Dynasty (one the heavens can't shake) by One_eyed_God (T, 66k, WangXian, canon typical Jiang family dynamics, BAMF WWX, Canon JC Characteristics, POV Outsider, Hurt/Comfort, Pre-Relationship, WWX is a Wen, Sect Leader WWX, Genius WWX, The Casual Intimacy of Hand-Holding, Minor XuanLi, Not JC Friendly, Time Travel Fix-It)

FOUND? Cultivating immortality by KizuKatana (E, 231k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Rogue Cultivator WWX, Mutual Pining, BAMF WWX, BAMF LWJ, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, unreliable narrator, Found Family, First Time, novel canon relationship dynamics) Is this the one mentioned in #1 parentheses

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2. Hello ! I was searching for a fanfiction where WWX was under Lwj care who spanked him and punished him but also took care of him . It comes in series... Lwj master in CR. In one series LWj beat Wwx so much that he himself got punishment in ancestral hall. I remember reading it a few years back but can't find it now

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3. Hii!!! Can you help me find a fic where wwx dies in guanyin temple and promise lwj that he will return. Then wwx is reborn in the modern world where he is a scientist and a politician son. He sometimes remember lwj through dreams. He also has a girl best friend who helps him. Later he makes a machine to return to lwj in cloud recess and they reunite.

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4. Hello! i'm not entirely sure if i've mashed two together in my head or if it really is just one fic but here it goes: Lan zhan and wei ying are neighbors. a-yuan is wei ying's son, lan zhan works with a class of students on music cultivation. wei ying and a-yuan are actually hiding out from the wen's and the culminating scene has a-yuan possessed and needing to be cleansed and lan zhan and his students helping. I believe it was a multi chapter fic too. thank you so much!!

FOUND? Hear a song this deeply by so_shhy (T, 87k, WangXian, Modern Cultivation, Kind of academia AU, Music, Kid Fic, Canon-Typical Violence, Action/Adventure, To An Extent, canon-typical JGY behaviour, Original Character(s), Slow Burn, Fluff and Angst, we love us some tragic backstory, Happy Ending, for wangxian at least, [slaps fic] this baby can fit so much plot in it)

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5. Hello, I'm looking for a fic I've read before. Wei ying is at the lectures in CR and sees that Lan Zhan receives presents from people but rejects them. He was befriending him and thinks that lan zhan won't reject his present ..so he gives him a jade pendant. But lan zhan crushes it and WY gets mad about it and starts to avoid lz.

It was completed and I think just one chapter. Thanks in advance @smarti1997

FOUND? For you by 10thNoNamePerson (T, 16k, WangXian, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, Cloud Recesses Shenanigans, Canon Divergence, No War AU, Teen Wangxian, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Jealous WWX, Soft WangXian, No Sunshot Campaign)

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6. good day! so i was reading this wangxian dimension travel fic and i suddenly remember that one story; a student from modern world lost her way in the forest and kinda met wwx who just became yiling patriarch. i think her name is lily? or something close to that name. i know that i bookmarked it before and i dont know why but i cant find it (not sure if im using the correct tags or what) pls help me find it. thank you for ur help! 💙

additional info:: i think her bag is color yellow? she also went with wy to kill wen chao and thats how jc and lz met her. theres also a scene where she stopped wy during "the soup" encounter with jzx and she got hurt. @httpskaixx

hello! actually, the "i told u when i came i was a stranger" was the story i was reading when i submitted my ask. i followed the note and search it with "isekai" tag and i found it!! the story i was looking for is "wait a minute!" thankyou so much!

NOT FOUND! i told you when i came i was a stranger by Caramelized (M, 50k, OFC/LXC, minor WangXian, Isekai, Transmigration, Fix-It, Canon Divergence, Amateur cartography, Butterfly Effect, Sunshot Campaign, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, No Golden Core Transfer, Dimension Travel, Politics, LXC the politician, Self-Insert, Foreknowledge, Angst with a Happy Ending) If not, the requester might want to search "isekai" for The Untamed or Módào Zǔshī - Mòxiāng Tóngxiù on AO3.

FOUND! Wait a minute! by Anonymous (T, 45k, WangXian, World Travel, Dimension Travel, Canon Divergence, Transmigration, Crack Treated Seriously, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Fluff and Angst, Attempt at Humor, I've Been Told That OC has Kagome From Inuyasha Vibes, Isekai)

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7. JGY kills nie huasaing and delivers his saber to NMJ which reveals what actually happened to him so now Wei Ying, with the help of Lan Zhan, must resurrect NHS (at NMJ’s “request”) wen Ning style before NMJ kills like everyone. I’ve been looking on AO3 but the fic might have been on tumblr or cross posted. @i-cant-think-of-one-meh

FOUND? Digging Graves by nirejseki (Not rated, 13k, NHS & NMJ, WWX & XY, wangxian, Revenge, Broken Moral System, Non-Graphic Violence, the masterless sabers)

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8. Hi! I'm looking for a fic where Wei Ying is an ex-model who had an iconic magazine photoshoot (inspired by Burt Reynolds apparently), and a younger Lan Zhan is a big fan of him. Lan Zhan encounters him on a coffee run and they get together. I vaguely remember Wei Ying shouting that he's a cougar. I guess the title is along the lines of "came for the coffee" but I'm not sure anymore since I really can't find it. Thank you so much!

FOUND? 8 Is "Came for the coffee, stayed for the wet dream". It's one of Pancho's hidden works, but it is available on wayback machine

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9. Hi I’m looking for a fic that might have been deleted but I’m really hoping I’m just missing it. It was a one shot on the longer side, ABO dynamics, where LWJ turns WWX into an omega when they end up quarantining together over the pandemic. It used to come up pretty high when I sorted by kudos, so hopefully someone’s heard of it :( thank you so much!

FOUND! the twisting of secondary genders by HeavenlySkyfarer (E, 7k, WangXian, Modern, A/B/O, Non-Consensual Secondary Gender Modification, Extremely Dubious Consent, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Forced Heat, Baby Trapping, Questionable Use of The Quarantine As A Plot-Device For Questionable Porn, Dark LWJ)

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10. hii!! i've been looking for this specific fic thats on ao3 for a while.. the jist is lan zhan and wei ying are living together post-canon as a happy couple until they go night hunting together to figure out this pattern of suicides in a town or something? they don't really find much and head back home but it turns out lan zhan has gotten cursed and is now slowly declining mental health wise-- he pulls away from wei ying (to which wei ying is very sad about) and eventually tries to leave on bichen in the middle of night to go commit suicide, but wei ying catches him, realizes he's cursed, and helps him and then yay happy ending? thank you! @hyperizzation

FOUND! What lies beneath the bones series by seachronicles (E, 104k, WangXian, LSZ & LWJ, LXC & LWJ, LQR & LWJ, Hurt/Comfort, Heavy Angst with a Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied Childhood Sexual Abuse, Childhood Trauma, Trauma Recovery, Rape Recovery, PTSD, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Disordered Eating, Survivor Guilt, Grief/Mourning, Canon Divergence, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, Suicide Attempt, Implied/Referenced Sex, Hurt LWJ, LWJ Needs a Hug, LWJ Whump, POV LWJ, Character Study, LWJ is Not Okay, Mental Health Issues, Post-Canon, Sad LWJ, Depressed LWJ, Self-Esteem Issues, Canonical Character Death, LWJ-centric, Touch-Starved LWJ, Case Fic, Night Hunt, Ghosts, Curses, Suicide, conversations about suicide, Past Sexual Abuse, Past Child Abuse, only referenced, WWX Takes Care of LWJ, Soft WWX, Hurt WWX, but differently, Guilt, WWX gives him the hug, POV WWX, Self-Harm, nothing too graphic, Established Relationship, Mystery, Hair Washing, Wound Tending, WWX is So Whipped, wangxian literally live their cottagecore dream, WangXian in Love, Secrets, LWJ has a secret, Vulnerability, Drunk LWJ, Protective WWX, Miscommunication, Soft LWJ, Eating Disorders, Suicidal Thoughts, Recovery, LWJ needs therapy, he gets that therapy, LXC Tries, LQR Being an Asshole, Dad LWJ, Chronic Pain, Dissociation, LWJ Has OCD, Sex between Wangxian, Dubious Consent, because they don't know how to communicate, They Learn, Happy consensual sex, Mild Smut, Eventual Smut, Aftercare, Fluff and Smut)

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11. Searching really hard for a fic where wwx adopts a-yuan without telling anyone but lwj thinks a-yuan is wwx's bf, so when wwx finally asks him out and kisses him , lwj refuses and tells he never knew wwx was the kind of guy to cheat. He apologizes to wwx later when a-yuan visits him in university, I think. @maskdmafia

FOUND?🔒 breathe in the air, the last of its kind by wereworm (T, 27k, WangXian, Modern, assumed cheating, Miscommunication, gc transfer modernised as hand-wavey illness (referenced/implied), 5+1 Things)

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12. I read a fanfic awhile back where child Lan Zhan meets child Wei Ying while Wei Ying is still on the streets as an orphan. Lan Zhan gives him something, I can’t remember if it’s a toy or food. Then for the following years Lan Zhan spends time trying to find Wei Ying to check up on him using musical cultivation. There’s a woman who he calls to find him, one day she does find him. I believe it’s around the time Wei Ying and Jiang Cheng arrive at the cloud recesses.

I also think, and I might be combining two different fics here but hopefully I’m not, but the following plot is them falling in love while Wei Ying comes to term with the horrific and graphic abuse that Yu Ziyuan put him and other servants through and they end up investigating, finding proof, and she faces punishment. Pretty sure it’s an A/B/O fanfic where Yu Ziyuan forces Wei Ying to hide he’s an omega(?) for some reason. I think a chastity belt is involved that Yu Ziyuan put Wei Ying in. Jiang Cheng’s father resigns as sect leader when her crimes come to light.

Any help would be greatly appreciated, this has been a thorn in my side for the past few weeks. @staykookedsuga

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13. Hello! I have an ask for the fic-finder 😅

It's been a long time since I read this one, so it's an older fic (at least more than 3-4 years ago). It was centred around MDZS as a story with Jiang Wanyin as the MC and YLZ as the villain. Our main characters had a whole fandom around it, where LWJ is a famous author and WWX a not-very-popular artist who drew fanart of the most hated character in the book "Yiling Laozu" (I think he was an artist, could also be a fellow writer).

I remember there was lot of fandom discourse about WWX and his choice of character to support and how YLZ was always jealous of JWY and did actually maliciously cause everything he was accused of in this alternate MDZS canon. Then, suddenly, LWJ + WWX end up pairing up for a fandom event (a big bang or smth similar), and WWX has the idea of a story where canon divergence occurs and YLZ is a good person instead (like actual canon) and LWJ agrees to write for it.

This was as far as I had read for it. From I remember it was a WIP. Thanks <3 @indelibleme

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14. Hello :) I could use your help to find a fic: Modern AU, LWJ is an epidemiologist, at the start LWJ finds A-Yuan alone at a train station and waits with him until WWX shows up, WWX and A-Yuan move in with LWJ, A-Yuan locks himself in the bathroom and LWJ kicks the door in to get him out, WWX reenters Uni to finish a degree, LWJ sort of punishes him so he concentrates on work?, LWJ starts the process of adopting A-Yuan, WWX and LWJ confess in the bathroom during a family party. Thank you so much! @die-or-worse-be-expelled

FOUND? 🔒 Lost Boys by raitala (E, 115k, WangXian, LSZ & WWX, LSZ & LWJ, Modern, Kid Fic, Gen or Pre-Slash, hints of wangxian, finding your found family, A-Yuan is a sweetie, Emotional Baggage, LWJ is on the Asexuality Spectrum, Neurodivergent LWJ, Hurt/Comfort, sugar daddy LWJ, LSZ is the bestest boi, LWJ is trying his best, WWX needs a hug, background societal homophobia, Grief/Mourning, Under-negotiated Kink, Dom/sub Undertones, Mild Painplay, Sharing a Bed, Family Feels, Nice LQR, Adoption, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Spit Kink, Slow Burn)

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15. Heyy. Just wanna start of by saying your account is an absolute life saver. Thank you so much for the hard work you guys put into getting fanfiction.

I need help finding a fic: Jiang Cheng, blaming Wei WuXian for soemthing he did (can't remember), finds a magical array to erase Wei WuXian from this world. Only to find out they loose the Sunshot Campaign without Wei WuXian and his demonic cultivation so he works together with Lan Wangji to bring him back and save everyone in this universe.

There's alot of angst and family bonding as well as feels. I remember that the heirs of the great sects were taken prisoner in the world Wei WuXian was erased and that's when Jiang Cheng wants to solve his mistake.

FOUND? The Way It Wasn’t by KouriArashi (T, 72k, WangXian, XiYao, Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fix-It, (eventually haha), Slow Build, Family Feels, Moral Ambiguity, Eventual Happy Ending)

FOUND? Not This Time by Marinelifeclub (M, 93k, WIP, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Time Travel, Angst, Dark LWJ, Protective LWJ, YLLZ WWX, Resentful WWX, Established Relationship, POV Alternating, Sunshot Campaign, Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Smut, Minor XuanLi, not for jc fans, eventual 3zun, Kid Fic)

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16. Hi! I’d love your help in looking for a fic on AO3. I can’t remember if it was a long one-shot or a series, but here are plot points I do recall:

- Lan Wangji stays behind at Yiling with Wei Wuxian

- the Lans don’t hear from him for a long time, until people report sightings of him in Yiling

- Lan Xichen and Lan Qiren take a few other Lan disciples with them to investigate

- They almost don’t recognize Lan Zhan because he looks different - he is happy. He now wears a painted symbol of a cloud on his forehead, and allows the village children to braid his hair with beads. He is considered pretty, and either a deity/god or just someone special by the villagers.

I hope this rings a bell, I’ve been trying to find it for ages and I’ve had no luck! @ogfangirl93

FOUND!🔒Unpack Your Heart by Terri Botta (Isilwath) (T, 22k, wangxian, Romance, Everybody Lives, Canon Divergence, LWJ Has Feelings, Protective LWJ, Burial Mounds Settlement Days, LWJ Stays at the Burial Mounds, Burial Mounds Ensemble as Family, Wangxian in Love, YLLZ WWX, Lan Clan Elders are Assholes, Minor Transgender Character, Qiongqi Path Divergence, LWJ loves his bunnies)

~*~

17. Hello! I’m looking for a fic, I can’t remember a lot of it and some of the plot points might be off but here’s what I remember; WWX dies but is approached by the previous wielder of the sword that was in the xuanwu of slaughter’s cave and they say smth I forgot and then wwx is back in the past and he can wield said sword and then I can’t remember anything else. Thanks for the help!

FOUND? Did I Not Explain Why the Sunset Turns Red? by 3988Akasha (E, 110k, wangxian, time travel, canon divergence, Canonical Character Death, Soulmates, Demonic Cultivation, Original Female Character(s), Emotional Constipation, Minor Character Death, Hand Jobs, Sexual Content, Bathing/Washing, Idiots in Love, Poetry, Mild Gore, Anal Sex, Angst, Rimming, Blow Jobs)

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18. Hello! For Fic Finder, please! I am looking for a canon au where some people were shapeshifters and during the Sunshot Campaign Wen Ruohan was poisoning the shapeshifters and forcing them under his control. I remember one scene in particular where a Wen dire owl was shot down and it ended up being one of these kidnapped/enslaved shapeshifters. I think the poison was some kind of dust that had to be inhaled? Thank you for your help! @gloriousclotpole

FOUND! 🔒 Unstoppable by Netrixie (T, 150k, WangXian, LXC & WWX, Canon Divergence, Eventual Happy Ending, Unreliable Narrator, Slow Burn, Minor Original Character(s), Cloud Recesses, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Canon-Typical Violence, Canon-Typical Angst, Wolf-shifter WWX, Resolved Sexual Tension, Resolved Romantic Tension, Fix-It, Werewolf, Shapeshifters, Sunshot Campaign, Translation Available, Russian, Canonical Lan arm strength)

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19. Hi. I am looking for a fic where Baoshan Sanren knows about Wei Wuxian’s fate. She can’t interfere directly so she trains Mo Xuanyu as a cultivator. Mo Xuanyu joins the jin sect and has a good relationship with Madam Jin helping protect jin Ling. He leaves the sect and the cultivation world to write the ministry exams for the imperial family. But he is assassinated before he can write the exams. Instead, Wei Wuxian, who wakes up in Mo Xuanyu’s body writes the exams and rises high. Soon enough, he catches the eye of the emperor because his genius and tendency to modify talisman. The emperor then finds out what happened in the cultivation world and gives them an eye opener. Mo Xuanyu’s ghost also appears and reveals Baoshan Sanren’s plan and his agreement to go along with it. Lan Zhan, then finds out that Mo Xuanyu is Wei Wuxian, leaves the sect to go live with him on his lands outside the cultivation world. @darkshadowgrief

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20. I'm looking for a fic where Wei Ying babysits A-yuan for Lan Zhan? I think it was Modern AU but that's all i can remember maybe he taught him art?

I'm number 20 in the recent fic finder and I don't think paint smears is the one I'm looking for, not sure about the other since it's been deleted but I remember Wei Ying actually babysits A-yuan in his house or at least teaches him art at his house in his play room? And lan zhan is still at the house he just lets them be I think. I remember them learning about colors or painting something and also that lan zhan wanted to offer Wei Ying a permanent job as A-yuan's private art teacher and offered more than his regular job.

FOUND? Light travels faster than sound by Anonymous (E, 25k, wangxian) wwx is an artist commissioned to make musician!lwj's album cover, than to give a-yuan art lessons), but I think the author deleted their works?

NOT FOUND! 🧡 paint smears on sunny days by SnowshadowAO3 (E, 53k, WangXian, Comfort, Fluff and Smut, Everyone Is Alive, Modern AU, Dadji, Mutual Pining, Happy Ending, Brief Alcohol Mention, Masturbation, Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs, Accidentally co-parenting with your son's art teacher, Fatherhood)

~*~

[kikyoupdates]

Made to Destroy ⭑˚💎⭑ 𝑢𝑛𝑜𝑟𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑎𝑟𝑦

bnha x op!reader

op!reader, my hero academia x fem!reader, reverse harem, over powered reader, f!reader

You are the product of a series of twisted experiments, an anomaly that shouldn’t have ever existed in the first place. Thankfully, you are taken into the arms of a hero and given a new purpose in life. But as you soon discover, it isn’t easy to deny your true nature, especially when you were made to destroy.

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“A-Are you really okay?” Present Mic asks, eyes wide with disbelief. He gingerly places his hand on your arm, making sure not to apply too much pressure. When you don’t wince or otherwise show that you’re in pain, he squeezes down a bit. “Does this hurt? If it hurts even a little bit, tell me, okay?”

You shake your head. “It doesn’t hurt. My arm is fine now. Sorry for worrying you.”

A shuddering gasp leaves his lips. Poor guy. He really looked like he was about to pass out just a few moments ago.

Anyways, your arm isn’t broken anymore, which is great, because you very much rely on the function of your arms. You use those arms to hold up burgers and guide them towards your mouth. They serve a very important purpose.

“I never expected you to have such an amazing Quirk,” Present Mic remarks. Now that he’s calmed down a bit, he’s able to pat your head and smile again. “Thank goodness. I’m so relieved you’re okay.”

You frown. “What’s a Quirk?”

Come to think of it, Dr. Garaki used the same term before too, but you didn’t actually know what it meant.

“Hm?” Present Mic blinks repeatedly. “You really haven’t heard of Quirks before? I feel like pretty much everyone knows what they are...”

He stops himself then, remembering that your situation is rather unique, and there must be gaps in your memory. He can’t even begin to imagine how you were raised until now, and how much you must have suffered, so the least he can do is answer any questions you have.

Whether you don’t know something, or you’ve simply forgotten, he’ll be there to walk you through all of it.

“Quirks are special abilities,” he explains. “Like your ability to heal yourself. You fell from the tree and broke your arm, but your Quirk is what saved you.”

Huh. You didn’t realize it was something special. You didn’t question it when your injuries healed after Dr. Garaki inflicted them upon you, because you simply didn't have a baseline for what is or isn’t normal.

“Do you have a Quirk too, Mic?” you ask.

He grins and nods his head. “Sure do! Ah, but I probably shouldn’t demonstrate here. I’ll end up bursting all these poor kids’ eardrums.”

Present Mic offers you his hand and helps pull you to your feet. You spend a few moments dusting yourself off after the fall. There’s dirt sticking to your nice new clothes, which sucks, but you’re hoping it can be washed out.

“I promise I’m fine,” you reassure. “I won’t climb any more trees anymore, so can I stay and play with them for a while longer?”

Present Mic knits his brows together. “Honestly, kiddo, you scared me half to death back there, but it’s my fault for not paying more attention. This time I’ll be watching you like a hawk, and trees are absolutely out of the question.”

“I know,” you say. “I learned a valuable lesson today. I shouldn’t underestimate trees.”

“Er, I think the lesson is to just be more cautious in general.”

“Trees are bad. I get it now.”

Present Mic lets out a sigh, but he must realize you’re not willing to be dissuaded. It appears he trusts you enough to believe that you won’t try anything reckless like that again, but this time when he goes to sit back down on the bench, he really is watching you like a hawk.

That’s fine, though. You have nothing to hide. Your tree-climbing days are already a thing of the past.

“Anyways, I climbed it,” you say, finally turning back towards the blond kid who was heckling you earlier. “My Quirk saved me, but I fell, so that’s proof that climbing trees is dangerous. You shouldn’t try to force anyone to do it, otherwise they could get hurt really badly.”

None of the kids have budged an inch since they watched the whole incident unfold, mainly because they’re still trying to process everything.

“That—That Quirk,” Katsuki blinks. “Your arm was completely broken, and just like that, it’s not?”

“I guess so,” you nod.

“And you don’t feel anything anymore?”

“Nope. Well, I kind of remember how bad it hurt, but I don’t think I have any injuries left.” You pat your arm once more just to be certain, but sure enough, you’re fine.

Katsuki doesn’t say anything. Just like everyone else, he’s still letting it all sink in. It’s not like a regeneration Quirk is entirely unheard of. There are, after all, countless different abilities out there, and every individual is unique.

But for your Quirk to be that strong already? Strong enough to restore a serious injury in the blink of an eye? Even though you’re just a kid?

It’s pretty damn impressive.

And unfortunately for Katsuki, the other kids realize it too.

“Wow!” one of his friends gushes. “Holy moly! That was so cool! Hey, Katsuki, don’t you think her Quirk is super strong? It’s like she’s indestructible!”

Katsuki feels his brow twitch. All of a sudden, everyone’s paying attention to you, instead of paying attention to him.

And being the arrogant, spoiled little brat that he is, it royally pisses him off.

The boys all flock around you, asking you all sorts of questions that you’re not quite sure how to respond to. They’re mostly in awe, praising you left and right, and since you’re rather fond of praise, you have to admit that you don’t mind it in the slightest.

But one of the boys is different from the rest. Even if he’s in awe of your Quirk, like the others, he’s the only one to ask you:

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

It’s the curly-haired kid. The one with the freckles on his cheeks, and the big, green eyes. He knits his hands together as he asks the question, and based on the way his bottom lip is trembling, you get the sense that he’s worried, just like Present Mic was.

You’re not really sure why, though, because you thought you made it clear that you’re okay.

“I healed,” you tell him. “It’s okay. Everything’s fine now.”

He shakes his head. “I-I know that, but... like you said, you still remember how badly it hurt. And it must have been scary. So, I just wanted to check that you’re feeling alright. Even strong people like you probably still get scared...”

You blink, and even though he’s hardly made a big discovery or anything, for some reason, just the fact that he’s expressing so much concern resonates deep within your heart.

It’s true. You can get hurt over and over again, and you’ll probably heal every single time. You know this because of what Dr. Garaki did to you. He said you were sturdy. He sounded confident that you wouldn’t break.

But just because you can get hurt doesn’t meant that you should. And just because you’ll heal doesn’t mean you won’t experience any fear or pain.

While everyone gushes over your impressive ability, this boy is the only one who actually stops to consider your wellbeing.

“Thank you,” you blurt, and this seems to take him by surprise, because he jolts in place. “Um. Thank you for worrying about me, like Mic did. I’m all healed, but... it was scary. And I don’t want it to happen again. So, thank you. For caring.”

It’s criminal how quick he is to sport a blush on those freckled cheeks of his. He nods his head furiously, squeezing his eyes shut because he’s too flustered to meet your gaze.

“I-I-It's nothing!” he squeaks. “I just... wanted to make sure. I’m glad that you’re okay. Really, really glad.”

He’s a nice person, just like Aizawa and Present Mic. Even though you haven’t known him for very long, that’s what your gut is telling you.

This boy is the kind of person you'd like to have as a friend.

“I’m [Name],” you smile. “What’s your name?”

“Huh? O-Oh. I’m Midoriya Izuku,” he introduces. He’s still blushing, and it’s clear that he’s rather shy, if the way he keeps stammering out his words is any indication.

“What about Deku?” you frown, and at this, he bristles.

“Wh-What about it?”

“That boy over there called you that earlier. Isn’t that your name? Or is it a codename, like what Aizawa and Mic have?”

“It’s a—”

“It’s basically his real name,” Katsuki rudely interrupts. He shoves Izuku out of the way, then openly glares at you. “His name is Deku, because he’s a good-for-nothing Quirkless loser. You can read Izuku as Deku too, and it suits him way better, since he can’t ever do anything right.”

Izuku bows his head shamefully, and the sight makes your heart clench.

“So, it’s not a codename,” you clarify. “You’re just calling him something mean and teasing him. Why would you do that?”

“Uh, did you not just hear what I said? He’s Quirkless. He’s weaker than everyone else. Of course I’ll make fun of him for it.”

You arch a brow. “What does it mean if he’s Quirkless?”

“It means he doesn’t have a Quirk, even though everyone else does. He doesn’t have a cool power like the rest of us.”

Katsuki emphasizes his statement by creating little explosions in the palms of his hands. So, that must be his Quirk, then. And it sounds like most people have them, but for some reason, Izuku doesn’t.

You frown. Izuku refuses to look you in the eye anymore, and his cheeks are still bright red, but this time, they’re flushed from shame. He assumes that just like everyone else he’s ever met, you’re going to ridicule him for being different.

Needless to say, that’s not going to happen.

Up until a few minutes ago, you didn’t even know what a Quirk was. And there's no way you would ever judge him from being ‘different’, not when you’re a walking anomaly who’d never even taken their first breath until a few days ago.

"Okay,” you merely shrug. “So?”

Katsuki instantly deflates. That’s... not the reaction he was expecting. Why are you so unfazed? Come to think of it, how did you not even know about terms like ‘Quirk’ and ‘Quirkless’? Every kid in the world knows what they mean, and it’s not like you’re a toddler who’s just learning how to speak.

“He doesn’t have a Quirk,” Katsuki reiterates, feeling increasingly frustrated. “And he’s never going to get one either, because all Quirks manifest by the age of four. He’s going to be a loser for the rest of his life. Don’t you get it?”

Not really. You don’t get what the big fuss is about. So, Izuku won’t ever be able to heal from any injuries like yours or create explosions. But does anyone really need to do those things? It worked out for you because you got hurt, but it’s not like you’re going to go around looking for trouble just because you can heal. It’s better to just be safe in the first place.

“I don’t care,” you say. “Mic was cool even before I knew he had a Quirk. And Izuku is cool too. He’s nice and got worried about me. It kind of feels like you’re the loser. You make fun of people for no reason, and that gets on my nerves.”

Izuku’s eyes widen, and at the same time, Katsuki’s mouth parts in disbelief.

One of the boys is immeasurably happy, meanwhile, the other is livid beyond his wildest dreams.

“Nobody calls me a loser!” Katsuki cries out, and he creates an explosion in his fist, ready to punch you with it.

But he doesn’t get the chance, because Present Mic stops him.

“Hey, what’s going on over here?” he frowns. “I came over because I heard some yelling, and now I see you trying to punch this sweet little girl? Give me a break, kid. Don’t make me call your parents. I’m really good at complaining, you know.”

Katsuki grits his teeth and flails hopelessly, trying to pry his hand out of Present Mic’s grip. “Let go of me, you old bastard! Let me go, goddammit!”

“Old bastard?! I’m in my early twenties, for crying out loud!”

Present Mic eventually does let go, and then he steps in front of you to block Katsuki off. The blond is still seething, practically hissing, even, like some kind of rabid cat. You shake your head disappointedly. He’s really just embarrassing himself at this point.

“Where are your parents?” Present Mic sighs tiredly. “You can’t just go around picking fights for no reason. You’re too young to be picking up all these bad habits.”

“Eat shit,” Katsuki sneers.

“Did he just tell me to eat shit?! Seriously, who is this kid?”

You tug on Present Mic’s sleeve. “I’m okay, Mic. He didn’t hurt me. But I kind of want to go now. I don’t like that kid. His behavior offends me.”

“Yeah, well, your face offends me!” Katsuki claps back. It’s a childish retort, but then again, he is only six years old.

“Alright,” Present Mic nods. “I guess I shouldn’t waste my time trying to track his parents down. But whoever they are, they’re doing a terrible job of raising him. Anyways, if you’re ready to go, let’s head home!”

“Can I get a burger on the way back?”

“Pfft. Like you even need to ask.”

Present Mic grabs your hand and starts leading you along. But before you leave, you make sure to flash the curly-haired boy a big smile.

“Bye-bye, Izuku. It was nice meeting you. I hope we can play together again someday.”

“O-Okay!” he chirps. “It was... it was really nice meeting you too!”

He’s blushing again, but it’s nice to see him matching your smile with one of his own. He looks so much better with a smile. If not for that brute Katsuki, you’re positive he would smile a lot more.

"And bye-bye to the rest of the kids whose names I don’t know,” you continue, waving your hand. “Except for the rude blond kid who I don’t like. He doesn’t get a bye-bye.”

The rude blond kid in question mashes his teeth, downright fuming. He’s so indignant that he even cries out to you while you’re walking away.

“I have a name, you idiot! It’s Bakugou Katsuki!”

You ignore him, which just pisses him off even more, and in that moment, he designates you as his rival. His archnemesis, even. He swears that if the two of you ever cross paths again, he’s going to humiliate you and make you admit just how strong and cool he actually is.

Spoiler alert: neither of those things will ever happen.

“Listen up, [Name],” Present Mic instructs. “I kind of messed up by not doing a good job of watching you earlier today. If I’d been more careful, you would never have fallen from that tree to begin with. So, let’s keep what happened a little secret, okay? Just between the two of us. If Aizawa finds out I let you get hurt, he’s going to beat the snot out of me.”

You frown. “Does that mean you want me to lie to Aizawa?”

“It’s not really lying. We’re just choosing to omit certain parts,” he chuckles nervously.

Well, okay. Present Mic is a good guy, and you’re not trying to get him in trouble. Perhaps it’s better that Aizawa doesn’t know, so that he won’t get worried for no reason. You’re perfectly fine, after all. There's no need to cause him any undue grief.

Present Mic flashes you one of his trademark smiles, unlocks the door, and then you step into the apartment.

Aizawa is already there. He must have finished with his hero duties a little while ago.

“How was it?” he asks. “Mic told me you went to a playground today. Did you have fun?”

You nod earnestly. “Mhm! I met other kids there. One of them was really nice, and one of them was kind of a bully. And I also found out what Quirks are! I didn’t know that so many people also have special powers like mine.”

Aizawa frowns. “Huh. I guess we never stopped to wonder about what kind of Quirk you might have. And you say you only just learned what Quirks are... but that’s fine. I know you’ve been dealing with a lot, so it’s okay if you’ve forgotten some things. So, what exactly is your Quirk?”

“I can heal,” you say proudly, and without thinking it through, you extend your arm out and grin. “I broke my arm earlier, but as you can see, it’s completely back to normal now!”

Aizawa’s jaw drops open, and beside you, Present Mic clamps a hand over his mouth to keep from screeching.

“You broke... your arm?” Aizawa blinks repeatedly. There’s a glare settling upon his features, and it’s getting harsher by the second. “What does she mean by that? Hey. Explain it to me, Mic. Explain it to me right now.”

Oops.

You really weren’t trying to throw him under the bus. It’s just that you got all excited about revealing your Quirk to Aizawa, and before you knew it, you’d spilled the beans.

“Um. I didn’t mention the tree,” you whisper into Present Mic’s ear.

“What tree?!” Aizawa cries out.

“How did you hear me, Aizawa? I was whispering.”

Present Mic splutters out the beginnings of a protest. “W-Wait! Calm down, man! It’s not what you think!”

“Oh, really?” Aizawa glowers, grabbing onto the collar of Present Mic’s shirt and pulling him in. He brings his face impossibly close, enough to make Present Mic sweat bullets. “Because to me, it sounds like you made a royal mess of things while I wasn’t around.”

“U-Ugh. Okay, well, maybe it is kind of what you think.” Present Mic lets out a heavy sigh. “I’ll admit that I let my guard down for a few seconds, and that was all it took for [Name] to get hurt. I was incredibly negligent, but I promise it won’t happen again. I’ll never make such a grave mistake.”

“We’re her guardians now,” Aizawa scowls. “I don’t think you realize that we’re liable in case anything happens to her, and it’s our responsibility to keep her safe. Forget getting in trouble, she’s just a little kid, and she’s supposed to be able to rely on us.”

“I know. I messed up big-time. I can’t apologize for it enough, but I mean it when I say I’ll never let something like this happen again.”

You tap Aizawa’s arm. “Don’t be mad at Mic,” you plead. “It’s not his fault. I shouldn’t have climbed the tree in the first place. It’s all that mean blond kid’s fault. He’s the one who kept trying to pressure everyone into doing it.”

Your puppy eyes must have done their job, because after a few moments, Aizawa sighs and releases Present Mic, then kneels down next to you.

“Just because someone is telling you to do something doesn’t mean you should do it,” he says. “There will be all kinds of people like that in life. People that try to pressure you into doing stupid things. It’s up to you to discern which people are looking out for you, and which people are leading you down the wrong path. But I understand that you’re still young, and kids at your age are really impressionable. Still, do your best to make safe choices. We don’t want you to get hurt.”

He pats your head, and thankfully, his smile returns too. It doesn’t seem like he’s too upset anymore. He was just worried about you, the same as Present Mic.

“I’ll be safe,” you reassure. “I promise. I know trees are dangerous now. No way will I ever climb one again.”

“Good. That’s good.” Aizawa pauses for a few moments, then frowns. “So... you say that you broke your arm after falling from that tree, and sure enough, it looks good as new. It really healed completely? It doesn’t hurt at all anymore?”

You nod. “It’s fine now. My arm works just fine. See?” You wiggle your arm around for emphasis, and it’s obvious that you don’t feel any pain while doing it.

“A healing Quirk. I guess that’s a good thing. Kids are reckless, and they tend to get all kinds of scrapes and bruises, so at least in your case, you won’t have to deal with those kinds of injuries long-term.”

He’s relieved that you’re okay. If any other kid had broken their arm, it would have been a guaranteed trip to the hospital. Perhaps he should still bring you in another day just to make sure everything is in order, but this certainly spares him a lot of the trouble and heartache.

Aizawa is relieved.

But then, all of a sudden, he isn’t.

He’s just realized something. Something that makes him sick to his goddamn stomach.

You said that the bad man hurt you. He hurt you, and now Aizawa has just discovered that your Quirk allows you to heal.

How many times did that man hurt you, then? How many times must he have made you suffer? Dr. Iwase couldn’t find any signs of abuse, but of course he wouldn’t have been able to, not if your body mended itself after every violent assault.

Aizawa doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t dare ask, out of the fear that he might trigger traumatic memories.

All he can do is pull you into his arms and hold you close.

“It’s okay,” he mumbles. He can feel his shoulders trembling as he strokes your hair. “It’s okay, [Name]. “We’re here for you now.”

You’re not sure where all of this is coming from. Is he still worried that you’re in pain? Your arm is feeling just fine. Falling from a tree and breaking one of your limbs was admittedly terrifying, but you’ve learned what not to do, so you’re confident history won’t repeat itself.

And yet, even though Aizawa is clearly trying to comfort you, it almost feels like he’s the one who needs to be consoled.

“I’m doing just fine,” you beam, patting his back. After a few moments, even Present Mic wordlessly drops to his knees and wraps his arms around you. They’ve initiated a group hug all of a sudden. Well, not that you mind.

Yeah. You don’t mind this one bit.

A few days after your check-up at the hospital, Aizawa receives a call. He yawns and presses the phone against his ear, only half-awake.

“Hello?”

“Um, hello there. This is Dr. Iwase calling. I’m speaking to Aizawa, correct?”

“That’s me,” Aizawa nods. He adjusts the phone slightly. “What is it? Is this about that child psychologist you mentioned last time? Because to be honest, I think it’s a good idea. It sounds like she’s had it even worse than I first thought.”

“I’m actually calling about a different matter. We received the results of [Name]’s blood test, you see.” He swallows thickly, almost as if he’s not quite sure how to frame his next words. “And, um... it was strange, for lack of a better word. Honestly, I’m not even sure how to describe it.”

Aizawa stiffens. “How so?”

“It’s difficult to explain. From a non-medical standpoint, everything would seem perfectly fine. But her blood, well... it doesn’t exactly behave the way normal blood does. All of her readings fell outside of the normal range, despite the fact that she seemed perfectly healthy when I examined her. This is the sort of thing you might find in someone incredibly sick. A terminally ill patient, perhaps. Not a functional child.”

Aizawa doesn’t know what to say. He’s at a total loss. However, one thing is certain.

You aren’t an ordinary kid.

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[simplybakugou]

Could you do another drink bakugo?

⋆ PAIRING: drunk/prohero!bakugou x fem!reader ⋆ WARNINGS/TAGS: swearing; alcohol; all characters are adults ⋆ WORD COUNT: 3003

A/N: taking a break from mystic academia cause this has been sitting in my inbox for so long and i wanted to save it until i got some inspiration for another drunk!bakugou and i finally found the inspo hehe. also when i first started writing drunk!bakugou oneshots, i was 17 LMAO and now as a 23 y/o that has actually been drunk i can write this a little more accurately lol. also i was struggling trying to end this cause i didn’t want it to be longer than it already is (imo) lol so im sorry for the awkward ending. ty for requesting and i hope you enjoy!

© simplybakugou — all rights reserved. DO NOT REPOST/REUPLOAD, TRANSLATE, OR EDIT ANY OF MY CONTENT ON HERE OR ANY PLATFORM

It was a stupid idea. Why the hell would Bakugou go into a bar with the most loud and raucous people he knew even though he’d never drank a day in his life?

He couldn’t think of something he wanted to do less in that moment. He was exhausted, coming from a day of patrolling and hero work. Although his friends also came from their jobs, they actually drank alcohol and wanted to unwind after five years of constantly overworking themselves.

“Are you really not gonna get anything, Katsuki?” Sero questioned, giving the table’s drink orders to the bartender.

“I’m not fucking up my body just to look like an idiot like you dumbasses,” Bakugou huffed, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back in his chair. 

“Why’d you come then?” Kaminari quipped, interested in hearing Bakugou’s answer.

“Cause your dumbass wouldn’t stop bothering me about coming out tonight!” Bakugou replied angrily.

“Oh yeah!” Kaminari exclaimed, laughing at himself. “I forgot.”

“It’s good to come out with us once in a while,” Kirishima said, nodding his head. “You’ve been working yourself to the bone since we graduated, man. We haven’t seen you in years.”

Bakugou rolled his eyes. “Don’t be fucking ridiculous. I’m not stopping until I’m number one. You shits can drink all you fucking want but I’m not gonna sit around every week just to catch up.”

Kaminari sighed, shaking his head. “This is why you’ve never had a girlfriend.” Sero nodded along with him.

“And what the fuck does that have to do with anything?” Bakugou snarled, slamming his fist against the table out of annoyance.

“You’re a workaholic, dude,” Sero stated matter-of-factly. “When are you gonna have the time to date? If you slowed down a little you could’ve at least gone out with Y/N back when you had a crush on her in U.A.”

“I did not have a crush on that shitty girl.” Bakugou felt himself getting even more angered just hearing your name uttered. 

“You keep telling yourself that,” Kirishima said, patting his friend on the shoulder only to get shook off by Bakugou. 

The drinks Sero ordered arrived and the rest of the guys cheered each other before downing their beverages. Bakugou sipped on his water he was forced to get after Sero berated him to order something.  

The more alcohol his friends consumed, the more rowdy and even more raucous they got and Bakugou questioned even more why he decided to go out with them. It was karaoke night at the bar and Bakugou swore his ears were bleeding as Kaminari consistently kept attempting to serenade him.

Despite how chaotic it was in the bar that night, Bakugou eventually found himself enjoying it. Kaminari and Sero got the most drunk, getting up to dance and stumbling over one another, which made Bakugou and Kirishima burst into laughter. He would never tell them, but he needed this time out and away from the constant need to work towards his one and only goal. 

The night was going great; until the door to the bar opened. Bakugou turned his head to the noise of the bell ringing above the door. It stuck out amongst the voices and loud nature of the room and he felt his face drop at the sight.

There you were, five years older than the last time he had seen you in person. And you weren’t alone as your arm was looped around the arm of another man.

Bakugou couldn’t help but stare at the sight. He drowned out the sounds of Kaminari, Sero, Kirishima, and a few strangers they had recruited at the bar playing drinking games as his focus was only on you. You scanned the area, waving shyly to a few people that recognized you as their favorite rising hero and sat in the corner of the room with your mystery man.

Kirishima glanced at Bakugou, recognizing that he was distracted by something else and looked towards what had caught his eye. He immediately understood the reason for the defeated look on his friend’s face.

“I’m sorry, man,” Kirishima stated simply. 

“Sorry?” Bakugou scoffed. “For what? There’s nothing to be sorry about. We were never together.” The last part Bakugou muttered to himself as he finally tore his eyes away from you and down to his glass of water.

And it was true; you and Bakugou were never together back when you attended U.A. with him and the others. Matter of fact, you didn’t even know Bakugou liked you back then as he made it his mission that you never found out. Not only did he refuse to let himself be subjected to such vulnerable feelings like love and infatuation, you and your peers were constantly bombarded with hero work and dealing with the League of Villains to ever have the time for confessions. At the time, romantic relationships were trivial. 

As things died down by the time class A graduated, Bakugou busied himself with his long-time goal of wanting to become the number one hero. He kept telling himself that it was time to grow up and forget about what he assumed to be a little crush but the more he kept shoving his feelings inside, the more intense they became.

That was why it felt like a punch to the gut to see you laughing with and leaning onto a man that wasn’t him. 

“Hey, dunce face,” Bakugou grunted. Kaminari lifted his head and looked over at Bakugou with hazy eyes. “Get me the strongest drink here.”

“Dude, you really should slow down,” Kirishima urged, concerned as he watched Bakugou down shot after shot. “You’ve never drank before and this’ll probably mess you up fast.”

“I don’t give a fuck,” Bakugou said in a rush, out of breath from the abundance of liquids he furiously ingested. He held the next shot glass to his lips, preparing himself to throw it back along with the countless shots he had already done; he felt like he was going to be sick, to no one’s surprise. Bakugou slammed the shot glass down onto the table, still full of alcohol, and he slammed his head onto the table as well. His head was throbbing but he felt like he could float in the air if he really tried. 

Kirishima chuckled at his friend, taking advantage of the situation and taking the shot glass away from Bakugou. 

Kaminari swung his arm around Bakugou’s shoulders. “See, dude, now we’re having fun!” The last word was elongated as he let out a small hiccup.

“Get the fuck off of me, dunce face,” Bakugou mumbled with his head still on the table, causing his words to be muffled. Nevertheless, Kaminari knew exactly what his grouchy friend had said but ignored him.

For the first time that night, Kaminari looked around the room and noticed you sitting alone now in the corner of the bar. He shot up, waving his hand out at you. “Y/N!”

Bakugou’s eyes, which were once closed shut as the alcohol was rushing to his head all at once, shot wide open as he whipped his head up. He felt dizzy from how quick the motion was. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Come on, man, she’s sitting over there all alone,” Kaminari reasoned, turning his attention back to you. You also had finally noticed your old classmates, smiling at the sight. “Hang out with us, Y/N!”

“Alone?” Bakugou questioned softly. He looked over at you and felt a wave of relief wash over him as he carefully watched you make your way to their table, mystery man out of the picture.

“I didn’t know you guys were here tonight,” you said with a smile. You sounded level-headed and Bakugou determined that you were probably the most sober person in the room that night.

“Yeah, we come here a lot after our patrol shifts,” Sero commented.

“All of you?” You questioned, interested as you scanned each of the guys sitting at the table. Finally you locked eyes with Bakugou and he swore your gaze could’ve pierced right through him. He broke eye contact first as he felt his face burning up even more with the effects of the alcohol. 

“We usually have to beg Katsuki to come out. You know how he is,” Kirishima teased, wanting to lighten the mood for his friend. It didn’t work as Bakugou still had a sour expression on his face.

“Wanna get a few drinks with us?” Kaminari offered.

You shook your head. “No, it’s alright. Tonight hasn’t gone the way I wanted so I think I’m going to call it a night. It was nice seeing you guys.”

You waved goodbye to the boys, sending a small smile towards Bakugou as you understood he was in a bad mood but not understanding why. Your back was turned to them as you walked towards the exit and it was a miracle how you didn’t have two vermillion holes in your back the way Bakugou was staring at you leaving.

Bakugou stood up abruptly and he grabbed his coat and wallet. He sloppily pulled out a few bills and slammed them on the table as he made his way out as well.

“Where are you going?” Kirishima questioned.

“Don’t worry about it.”

You cursed at yourself for leaving your jacket in your date’s car as the winter snow began to litter the streets. Your body was shivering terribly. The bar had a few tables and chairs in front of the building and you sat yourself down as you contemplated how on Earth you were going to get home. 

Before you could come up with a game plan, you felt a heavy leather jacket plop down onto your shoulders. You jumped at the sudden contact, watching as a clearly drunk-but-pretending-to-be-sober Bakugou sat himself in the chair across from you. “Bakugou! What’re you doing here?”

Bakugou ignored your question as he bluntly asked, “Where’s that fucker you came in with?”

You were taken aback by his questions. Only a few minutes ago did you realize that Bakugou, Kirishima, Kaminari, and Sero were there in the bar with you that night. If he had seen you with your date, that meant Bakugou had seen you when you walked in. 

You sighed, leaning back in your chair and pulling Bakugou’s jacket closer to you as it kept you warm. “He was being… weird.”

“Weird how.” It was a question but you sensed the animosity in Bakugou’s tone as his expression harshened in a way that made his question a statement.

You waved your hands to calm him down. Why was he so upset? “Nothing bad, don’t worry. He’s just some guy I started dating. We weren’t official or anything but I liked him. He said he didn’t like me being a hero and said I should get a job that’d suit me in a feminine way.” You chuckled humorlessly as you recalled the misogynistic comment.

“What a fucking loser,” Bakugou grumbled, loud enough for you to hear and laugh at. He leaned back in his chair, resting his eyes. “You told him to fuck off, right?”

You nodded, amused as you always were back in U.A. with Bakugou’s colorful vocabulary. “Yup. He got pissed and left me here and I left my stuff in his car like an idiot.” 

Bakugou opened his eyes and reached into his front pocket, cursing at himself as his fingers kept missing the opening seam. He pulled out his car keys and tossed them onto the table. You furrowed your eyes at the sight in confusion.

“Take my car to get home.”

You widened your eyes at his insane proposition, looking at the insignia on his keys as an expensive brand. “Bakugou, your car’s worth like a hundred million yen! There’s no way I can drive that!” 

“Just do it, idiot,” Bakugou groaned, placing his forehead on the cold, snow-covered table. “Can’t let you just sit here in the cold.”

A moment passed as you were contemplating your choices only to realize in that time, Bakugou had fallen asleep. You chuckled softly, never expecting to see health-conscious Bakugou who’s always been adamant about never drinking inebriated. 

You grabbed his keys and put them in the pocket of his leather jacket, slipping the jacket onto your arms. You knew you couldn’t just take his car and leave him here like this so you got up and went over to his side, gently shaking his shoulders to wake him. “Come on, big guy. We’re going home”

Bakugou let out a groan as you got him to his feet, your arm around his shoulders and you wrapped his arm around your waist to support him, resting your hand on his hand. You felt his body stiffen in reaction and you looked up at him curiously. His face was red again and you assumed it was a combination of the alcohol and the frigidness in the air. It most definitely was not either of those things.

“Where’d you park your car?” You asked as you slowly helped him walk.

He nodded in the direction ahead of you and you assumed he was referring to the parking lot that was thankfully right next to the bar. The two of you continued walking towards the lot and you found it unusual how quiet Bakugou was.

Once reaching the lot, you were originally going to search for Bakugou’s car only to not have to put any effort at all since his bright red sports car stuck out like a sore thumb amongst the Subarus and Toyotas.

You laughed, shaking your head. “Why am I not surprised by this at all, Bakugou.”

Bakugou flinched and he slowly pulled away from you, shoving his hands in his pockets as he wobbly made his way to his car. “Stop calling me that.”

“What? You don’t want me to call you Bakugou?” You question, confused. “Oh! I get it. You want me to call you by your hero name, right, Dynamight?”

“That’s not it either, idiot.”

“Oh, then, Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight?”

“You’re so stupid.” Bakugou stopped right in front of his car and turned around, slowly so that he wouldn’t fall over. He had his signature frown on his face only this time it was out of frustration. “Back in U.A. you’d call me Katsuki.”

“Yeah, I guess I did,” you said, nodding your head as you recalled doing so. “But that was five years ago. I haven’t seen you since then and I just wanted to be polite.”

Bakugou kept quiet but his eyes never faltered or wavered as he kept them on you. You felt like he could burn right through you if he tried as you didn’t understand his frustrations. “Is everything okay, Ba– I mean, Katsuki.”

Bakugou’s eyes slightly widened for a moment and he felt like he was transported back to being a teenager. “No. Everything’s not okay ‘cause I still have this stupid crush on you that I’ve had since our first year in U.A.”

He let out a sigh, feeling a weight on his shoulders dissipate and he turned around back towards his car. You stood in place, shocked at the confession that you did not foresee at all. There was no way the Bakugou Katsuki had a crush on you, especially when you were just teenagers.

“Open the door.” Bakugou turned his head to you as he waited by the passenger door.

“Wait, wait, wait.” You waved your hands in front of you, still unable to wrap his words around your head. “This has to be a joke. There’s just no way– Why would you have a crush on me?”

Bakugou shrugged. “Dunno. Just happened.”

Your face felt hot and it wasn’t because of the weather. So much of your relationship with Bakugou made sense with this new realization. The reason for his cold shouldering you on numerous occasions or annoyed stares he’d give you when you got in a relationship in your second year all started to make sense. It was his way of conveying his feelings for you. 

You shook your head, shaking the complex thoughts from your mind and snapping yourself back to reality as the cold air and Bakugou not having a jacket, since you were obviously wearing it, made you unlock his car with the key he gave you. You watched as Bakugou entered his car on the passenger side.

You knew you needed to give yourself a minute before you could enter the car beside him. How did you feel about him? You always thought he was handsome, when he wasn’t scowling at least, and you enjoyed seeing him mature every year in U.A. Even after graduation, you always watched the news fondly as you watched him evolve into an incredible hero, one that you knew was worthy of becoming number one. 

So Bakugou Katsuki liked you. If your poor previous relationships taught you anything, it was to not turn down a good man when he was right in front of you. Or at least sitting in his sports car waiting for you to drive the two of you home since he was unexpectedly inebriated to do so himself. 

Taking in a breath, you knew what you had to do; you wanted to see where this would go between the two of you. You opened the driver’s side door, sitting in your seat and collecting your thoughts briefly before turning to Bakugou to tell him exactly what was on your mind. You wanted to give it a shot.

And you were intent on doing just that until you turned to look at Bakugou only to see he was once again fast asleep, his chest rising and falling. You chuckled at the sight, taking in how adorable he was in that moment. Slipping his jacket off your body, you draped it over his body.

“Guess you’ll have to stay with me tonight.”

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[bakudekublogblog]

Katsuki is so fucking sick of hospital rooms. He hates the heavy scent of antiseptic, the too-starchy pillows, the way the bed crackles every time he moves. He hates the white-popcorn walls that he’s forced to stare at through the haze of heavy medication. And he fucking despises the plastic tube shoved up his nose with the quiet, but constant, beeping of several machines keeping tabs on his vitals. Everything about it sucks. The only slightly redeeming quality about this particular hospital stay is that he and Izuku are sharing the same room. Apparently, after Katsuki’s tantrum the last time they both nearly died, the nurses figured it was best for everyone if Izuku was put directly in Katsuki’s line of vision. And so there he is, still knocked out in his hospital bed opposite Katsuki’s. Half his head wrapped in gauze, face swollen with purple bruises, he’s bandaged just about everywhere, but he’s alive. Katsuki is too riddled with pain meds to do much other than stare at him across the room. But at least Izuku is there, hooked up to a heart-monitor, softly proving that he’s still breathing. Which gives Katsuki’s battered heart some much needed relief. 

Izuku still hasn’t woken up, though. Stupid, sleepy bastard. Always fucking sleeping when Katsuki is awake. How the fuck has Katsuki had three surgeries, one of them open-heart surgery, and he’s managing to flit in and out of consciousness, but Izuku is still out like a light? Katsuki thought Izuku swore to surpass him. Why the fuck does he think he can fall behind now? Katsuki scowls at Izuku’s tuft of fluffy green hair. 

Wake up or I’ll kill you , Katsuki vows.

Katsuki knows he’s in love with him. He should have known a long time ago really, but having his heart burst put everything into stark clarity. He can’t deny it now. Not even if he wanted to. The next time Katsuki greets death, he will do so without regrets. There’s so much he needs to make up for; he still has so much atoning left to do. He has to show Izuku he will be better and do right by him. Izuku can’t fucking die before Katsuki has the chance to prove himself. Even if Izuku never loves him back, Katsuki must at least prove that he can be good. That he is worthy of standing at Izuku’s side. 

Days pass and Izuku still doesn’t wake. Katsuki’s pleadings only get more desperate. Usually it’s just in his head, but sometimes, when it’s late at night and no one else is around, Katsuki will murmur to him aloud. 

“You don’t have to forgive me,” Katsuki whispers into the oppressive quiet of their hospital room. Only the soft chime of Izuku’s heart-monitor answers him. “You don’t have to be mine. Just wake up. Don’t make me live in a world without you.” 

Shadows dance as headlights stream through the curtains shading their window, and for a moment Katsuki thinks maybe--- but no. The car passes and Izuku hasn’t stirred. God fucking dammit. Katsuki doesn’t know why he’s surprised: of course Izuku can’t actually hear him. Tears prick at the corners of Katsuki’s eyes anyway. 

It becomes a nightly ritual. Katsuki’s mind is too muddled with medication to make sense most of the time, but at least it gives him something to do. God, he can’t wait until he’s off all this shit and actually, you know, move and whatever. His arm was so bent and twisted when he was admitted that they had to implant metal poles to strengthen it, and fuck if it doesn’t feel weird. Recovery Girl comes by every day to heal him, bit by bit so as not to exhaust his limited energy, and there’s a quirk specialist flying out from the states to repair Katsuki’s damaged muscle. They have assured him that with time and physical therapy he should get all his mobility back, but it gives Katsuki little comfort. He would cut the whole damn limb off if it meant Izuku would just wake up . 

“Please, for me,” Katsuki whispers, one night after a particularly exhausting round of visits from his parents, Izuku’s mom, and All Might. “Just this one thing. Just wake up. I won’t ask for anything else, just be okay.” 

Katsuki must drift off. The concoction of sleep-aids and pain medications dragging him into unconsciousness against his will. He thinks he might be dreaming when he hears ragged breathing and a soft croaky voice. 

“Ka— K’ch’n… Kach—” 

Katsuki jolts awake, his heart-rate spiking and his head spinning. He can’t have— it couldn’t be—

 “ Kacchan… ” 

[READ MORE]

[serasarahhhh]

Author: Maxine Pairings: DekuBaku Rating: Explicit Chapters: 1/1 - COMPLETE Word Count: 13,710 Notes: Written for the @dkbkexchange! Summary: A weekend away from school, from their nosy classmates, holed up in some shitty safehouse while they sniff out a fake drug ring. Katsuki knows it's going to be cramped quarters. He might end up having to bunk with Izuku, but that's fine. Completely and totally fine. They're good now, he doesn't mind possibly having to crawl under the covers with him. You know, if there's ~only one bed~ or whatever.

...Except it turns out there are TWO beds, actually.

So he's a little pissed about that. ~~~~~ PREVIEW “Bakugou, Kirishima, Midoriya, Todoroki,” Aizawa reads, sounding utterly bored. He glances up from his list, pinning each of them with a look. “You four are up this week. Decide amongst yourselves who you’re rooming with. You’ll be heading to your destination this evening, so make sure you’re packed and ready to go.”

For about three seconds, Katsuki thinks he doesn’t care who he has to share a room with. Any of those three would be fine – even Icy Hot, if it’s a good day and he’s being honest with himself instead of putting up a grumbling front just for the hell of it. The obvious choice is probably Kirishima, though, and he can already sense the other boy turning to grin at him when it suddenly pops into his head:

He’s just mad we had to share a bed.

Katsuki’s stomach lurches and, without thinking too hard about it, he spins around in his seat to slap a hand onto Izuku’s desk.

“Room with me,” he blurts out, and everyone around them seems to suddenly freeze. Kirishima’s eyebrows nearly fly off his forehead, Kaminari loudly snorts, and Izuku–

Izuku just blinks.

And then grins, big and wide, the scar on his cheek crinkling up as his eyes crease into crescent moons.

“Sure, Kacchan!” he chirps, and Katsuki has to battle down the blush that tries to flood his face. “That sounds fun!”

“Not fun,” he mutters. “It’s for school. It’s work.”

“Mm.” Izuku rests his cheek against his fist, brows quirking upward the slightest bit. “If you say so.”

“It’s just facts,” Katsuki insists. Fuck, he feels warm.

“What’s it been – at least ten years since we last had a sleepover?”

Katsuki scoffs. “Well, whose fault is that?”

Izuku stares at him and Katsuki promptly tries to disappear through the floor, but unfortunately that’s not the Quirk he was blessed with.

“I MEANT,” he starts, scrambling, “recently, ya damn nerd. This year or whatever. You always leave!”

Izuku’s cheeks go a bit pinkish, which is interesting. His gaze slides to the side as he clears his throat. “Well, I don’t want to impose…”

“No one else gives a shit about imposing.” Katsuki turns back around and slumps down in his seat, arms crossed over his chest. “Buncha fuckin’ barnacles.”

After Katsuki’s little dying and coming back to life stunt, all his classmates have this dumb need to make sure he’s breathing at all times or some shit. He lets them hang around because he’s nice like that, actually, but the truth is that a lot of them seek out comfort for other reasons. They’ve all been plagued with nightmares since the war ended, so it’s not an uncommon occurrence for random groups to occasionally pile up in the common room on particularly bad nights.

Katsuki’s friends usually prefer to barge into his bedroom instead. And he maybe always forgets to kick them back out.

But Izuku never stays long enough for it to matter. Continue reading at AO3. COMPLETE!

[voyaging-too]

I understand that a lot of people hate their job and a lot of people have a good reason to hate their job, but the notes under posts about AI and LLM usage always surprise me, because it turns out people hate their jobs in ways I could not even imagine.

It’s strange to read some people who work office jobs, e-mail jobs, openly admit that they consider their job fully bullshit. It turns out a lot of people don’t care, at all, about the quality of their own output. And it makes sense that they don’t care about enriching a random corporation, it makes sense that they don’t care about coddling annoying customers, I understand that they don’t actually like the product or content or whatever that their work makes, or doesn’t even make, only moves around. I just find it deeply demoralizing to realize that a huge number of people are deeply demoralized by having to do work that they don’t think improves the world even in minuscule ways. And what’s even stranger to me, people don’t care about the quality of their output because doing better is unlikely to earn a reward, and doing kinda worse is unlikely to result in punishment. I know that if I submit bullshit to my job, I’ll get fired. But a lot of people clearly understand that bullshit is all that’s ever been expected of them, and that makes me intensely sad.

Some time ago, I did have a job I considered fully bullshit, because I was working as the PA of a person who was fully, deeply bullshit, and over the course of a few months I lost my faith in academia, the media, governments, NGOs, nonprofits, profits, and like generally in the human race. Now that I have a sometimes annoying but mostly non-bullshit job, I’m recovering. (I don’t get to change the world massively for the better, but I get to make sure niche books and event pamphlets have correct, comprehensible information on them, which is a small good.) I wonder if a large number of people doing bullshit jobs have lost awareness that non-bullshit work even exists, and assume that everyone else is also just spinning their wheels. Meanwhile other people in other office buildings are looking at spreadsheets and presentations that look identical to bullshit spreadsheets and presentations, but are NOT bullshit, and might be a load-bearing part of essential infrastructure. (DOGE is happening for a large number of horrible reasons, but one of them is that people doing bullshit jobs imagine everyone else is doing bullshit jobs and incredibly important and valuable infrastructure just can be thrown out the window.)

[rooniper]

The inevitable Ralph Lore Masterpost

Here it comes. After my second re-read and a week of talking about this fictional cringefail tragic girl dad to anyone who would listen, here it finally is, because I felt a need to write all of this down for future reference and also because I am very close to exploding at any given second of the day.

Also: do keep in mind some of this is my personal speculation/theories/ramblings and probably not canon, but I did try to stick to just the book as much as possible. This is not a coherent essay. Really, it’s a word vomit because I can’t stop thinking about the funny Phone Man. I still probably missed some things, feel free to chime in in the replies, might make a Part 2 unpacking some of the lore/non-Ralph related bits in the future who knows.

Anyways, in no particular order (AND OBVIOUSLY; SPOILERS UNDER THE CUT):

Pre-Freddy’s Era Details I Couldn’t Fit Anywhere Else (Or: Upbringing, College and some Coppelia’s Mom Speculation)

There’s not much info about Ralph’s childhood from what I could gather, except two things: he was bullied in school to the point where he had to hide in a locked bathroom stall to get away from his classmates, and his father was a major a-hole who had extremely high expectations for him and also used to scare him out of wanting to play hide-and-seek with him which. Goddamn. The quote “all your life you’ve gotten used to not pushing buttons” really, really doesn’t help the horrible parents allegations. So yeah the man has daddy issues, jot that down.

Expanding on the previous point: a lot of his parenting of Coppelia seems to be directly influenced by his own upbringing. The paragraph-long tangent about how he’s purposefully awful at hide-and-seek because he never wants Pel to feel as scared as he did is an obvious example, but he also brings her gifts from work pretty much constantly (and sidenote: he thinks of taking things from his job that he never breaks the rules at to bring to her all the goddamn time, while being actively hunted by murderous animatronics. That’s so goddamn wholesome I’m sorry even when he’s scared out of his mind he’s constantly thinking of her). He never puts her down the way it’s implied he was put down as a child, he seems really supportive of her hobbies by the way he talks about her reading. I have more to say about his parenting skills, but the fact that he’s terrified of becoming like his own father/parents seems to be a giant part of them.

He’s a college dropout who majored in psychology, aiming to specialize in child psychology, which makes so much sense but also I find incredibly ironic considering he later exhibits very VERY obvious signs of what’s probably PTSD and doesn’t clock it at all. But that is also going to be its separate point, put a pin in that.

It’s not just implied, but pretty explicitly stated by Ralph himself that he’s a massive overachiever. He was probably pretty academically successful in college, considering he mentions it was a surprise to most people that he’d drop out to get into security work. It’s pretty strongly implied this was mostly because he was pressured into succeeding by his parents. My man has that helicopter parents burnout syndrome, and escaped it by going into a job where he could still interact with kids like he wanted to as a psychologist but actually be happy, and that means a lot to me actually.

(Very important sidenote, because I don’t know where else to put this: the fact that his real dream job is to make children’s toys is just so real to me, especially as someone who’s also experienced academic burnout. It makes so much sense for him to want to do something with his hands where he can create something tangible after being pushed into being traditionally ‘successful’ in academia by his environment. Also put a pin in this as well because I have another point to make about the whole toymaker thing)

He seems to be at least low-contact with his family, which is understandable from what we know about his father - I’d say it’s likely he even cut contact completely after dropping out of college. The fact that he never mentions his parents as a possibility when he talks about babysitting options, or the fact that he doesn’t even consider them taking care of Coppelia when he is literally about to die seems pretty telling to me. I mean, alternatively, they could both be dead, depending on how old Ralph is, but since Coppelia’s only eleven that seems a bit unlikely.

Coppelia’s mom is a mystery. There is exactly one mention of her in this entire book and it doesn’t come from Ralph, but from Pel, so we know she does in fact exist but that’s about it. When Ralph talks about parenting Coppelia he never mentions her mom, even as far back as when Coppelia was one year old. They probably divorced when Coppelia was really young, and Ralph likely has full custody, since he never mentions Coppelia going to her mother’s for the weekend or anything like that. And that’s all we know.

Freddy’s and Related Tidbits (Or: I Stuffed Everything Related to his Relationship to Fazbear Entertainment in this Section)

He’s worked at Freddy’s for at least eleven years, because he mentions Coppelia being a month old when he already had the job and recorded his first training tape. If FNAF 1 indeed takes place in 1993, that means he was already working at Freddy’s by 1982 and likely earlier. Which, side-tangent, would imply that either Fredbear’s Family Diner was removed enough from Fazbear Entertainment by then for him not to know anything beyond the vague existence about the bite of ‘83, or that FNAF 1 takes place after 1993. But at this point the timeline is confusing enough that who knows.

He’s never moved up to management despite being there for more than a decade, also doesn’t appear to know Henry or William (especially if you believe the whole Dave-is-probably-William theory).

He was employee of the month 22 times. He also likely competed against his murderer ex-boss in disguise for the longest employee of the month award streak which is the best goddamn thing I’ve ever heard.

He’s written some of the rules at Freddy’s. Because of course he has.

He leaves passive-agressive notes to the dayshift guard and also thinks about shoving a ballpoint pen in the cleaning staff’s faces. And also talks about reporting people for slacking off. What I’m trying to say that he’s probably not the most popular of people with the rest of the staff, and doesn’t appear to realize why that could possibly be. Worst enemy of folks who don’t want to take their shitty minimum wage job extremely seriously.

On a related note, he takes his job so seriously oh my god. He does like twenty other jobs each night while the animatronics are trying to kill him. He’s probably the only person still doing reports. Management is very much implied to never read them. He writes them anyway. The fact that he was genuinely called ‘the Phone Guy’ and also was in training videos is also amazing (and also pushes the Trans Phone Guy agenda for anyone who considers Kim from the FNAF movie to be a stand-in for him).

This is specifically night-shift related: While it’s true that his survival instincts are absolutely shot, he is, when pushed, demonstrated to be capable of extreme violence against animatronics, which actually good for him. He kicks Bonnie’s head off. He beats Chica to death with a mop. He shoots Foxy with a watergun and also throws a lightbulb at him. This is not particularly important to anything but it’s extremely important to me.

Anyways, he’s really, really loyal to this company. Like, too loyal. Like, he was very much responsible and instrumental in shutting down rumors and speculation among staff after the bite of ‘87 and likely after the MCI as well too loyal. He’s management’s mouthpiece for their dirty work and that makes me feel a certain way because it’s so obvious he cares a lot about this shitty kids’ restaurant, enough that he’d defend it at all cost even when there’s so much evidence against it. This will come up again when I talk about him gaslighting himself.

This is mostly me speculating on the previous point, but I’m pretty certain a lot of his defending of the company is also a coping mechanism that he uses to grapple with the trauma brought to him by the fact that he’s spent a huge chunk of his life working for a conglomerate that’s gotten people killed. He genuinely insinuates Jeremy was responsible for getting chomped, because he must’ve done something wrong, the animatronics would never attack anyone without reason (right?). When he talks about how the media blew children going missing out of proportion, it seems less like he believes it and more like he doesn’t want to believe it - especially considering he’s only brought Coppelia to Freddy’s once in her life. He never lets her near it. He shuts her down immediately when she talks about working at it. Which, at least to me, demonstrates that on a subconscious level, he knows what he’s saying isn’t true. It’s just easier to say it than face the facts.

And lastly, he’s so clearly and passionately loyal to the Fazbear’s franchize. This fucker genuinely loves working here and is sad to go, even though management treats him like shit. We already knew that, but still, dear god those people could not care less if he lived or died and he STILL takes his night guard duties so goddamn seriously. He’s so clearly really invested in it, he talks about what a magical place Freddy’s used to be for kids, he talks about how much the job means to him, all the while it’s actively trying to kill him, he defends it to the point that it’s actively ridiculous, and in multiple endings he still gets blackmailed, disappeared or worse by the people he’s defending. And- I don’t know. It just makes me really sad. Again, I do believe his over-the-top enthusiasm for his job is probably him compensating for the fact that he doesn’t want to face the incredibly traumatic stuff happening to him, especially because as the week goes on, he gets less and less enthusiastic with every night, and just- Yeah. Fazbear Entertainment doesn’t deserve him.

Characterization, Diction and Things Like That (Or: Everything Else)

Let’s get the more positive stuff in this section out of the way first: we already knew this from the phone calls, but the way this man talks just sends me. “Time to make the donuts” when walking into a shift my favorite of his Phone-Guy-isms, but also unironically saying “oh boy!” and “what rotten luck!” right when you’re about to die is equally important to me.

Kind of related but not really: this man truly is a dad through and through because MY GOD the amount of bad puns and/or stupid references he makes is criminal. The fact that they get him actually killed in some of the endings because he keeps laughing at his own terrible jokes is also great. My favorite examples include thinking “my, what large ears you have” immediately before Foxy mauls him, the Irony Curtain, the how many night watchmen does it take to change a lightbulb, and so on. The fact that he also finds all of this absolutely hilarious means so much to me. Ralph truly is a cringefail girl dad, RIP to him he would’ve loved those awful shirts with puns that were popular with dads going to Disneyland in the 2000s.

Not gonna lie, and I’m not sure if this is just me reading too much into it, but he also reads as at least slightly neurodivergent to me. And I am ready to die on that hill. He doesn’t really seem to be the best at social interaction or with figuring people out, from the way he talks about not being able to tell if his coworkers are only laughing at his jokes to be polite or not and how he doesn’t seem to understand why they would be upset with him shoving minimal errors in their faces. He notices a single hat out of place in one of the Party Rooms and immediately goes to correct it. He makes a point about how much he hates messes and the whole “you need order, you crave order in your life” quote resonated so deeply with me that it’s uncanny. He’s a “stickler for rules”. The fact that he worked at one place for eleven plus years also makes me think he’s probably not the best with change. I could go on. I don’t know, I wouldn’t be able to tell you why, but I just can’t see him as fully neurotypical.

He’s also just a really curious dude, to the point of his curiosity overriding his survival instincts. Which is a horror protagonist trope if I’ve ever seen one. The scene where he lifts up a strange robot cupcake he just found directly to his face with zero hesitation is just. Yeah.

He loves Foxy, which we already knew, but also the fact that he explicitly states that he’s still scared of him and Pirate Cove by association makes me kinda sad. Also, related point, he’s a self-proclaimed fan of pirate stories, so I’m pretty sure that’s where Coppelia gets her taste in books from, but that’s besides the point.

In general, he just really loves the animatronics, too? Like he waves at them after his shift. Like I already mentioned, he talks about how much they mean to him, and how much he loves the fact that they brought joy to kids. It’s kinda sweet.

The most questionable thing about him is the way he. Uh. Talks about guns/cops in a way that kind of makes me remember he was raised in Utah around the 1960s. There are a few specific passages that make me extremely concerned about what his opinion on the second amendment is. But that is luckily left unspoken so I’ll be moving along.

The job stresses him out so much he consumes a packet of raw poptarts because he’s so hungry by the end of it. Which, while iconic, is also very deeply concerning. Which brings me to my biggest point

My god this man has Trauma. So much Trauma. He represses so much. The entirety of the beginning of Night 3 is just him describing that he forgets details about his shifts as soon as he leaves them. He gaslights himself constantly that nothing bad is happening (after Night 1, for example, he calls the entire shift the night before a bad dream and convinces himself he’s just “misinterpreting” events, which is goddamn concerning), but he’s also actively wasting away despite telling himself he’s not (my man looks into the mirror and his only and first comment is that he looks terrible). Not to mention the dissociation. He spaces out when he comes home on two seperate occassions, and loses and entire hour each time without realizing it. God I hope in the endings where he survives he eventually gets therapy.

Coppelia and Life Outside of Work (Or: This Section is Concerningly Short)

This man loves his daughter so goddamn much. So, so much.

No but seriously the interactions between him and Coppelia are so pure and well written and they were my favorite part of the book, somehow, even though I wasn’t originally sold on the concept. The “with what?” “excellent point, I’ve got nothing” kills me still. The scene where Coppelia curls up next to him after he comes home from his shift makes me want to sob. He makes her pancakes and they banter and she test limits but it’s obvious she also loves her dad, and that is- AAAAAA

Back to my bullshit, though: Ralph does kinda read as the type of parent who’d spoil a kid rotten if given the opportunity to do so. At some point Coppelia directly says that he “gets her everything she wants”, and- yeah. This is similar to the point I made previously about him bringing her gifts all the time. She does seem like a good kid, though. He’s just a girl dad to the extent that he’d probably wear a shirt with girl dad written on it, you know?

He’s also really protective of her. And worries. A lot. Not just when he calls home or rushes home to check on her, but also when he talks about being a security guard at her school and whenever he forbids her from ever ever going near Freddy’s. Say what you will about him defending a company to a possibly unethical extent, but he’s not about to endanger his daugher over it, and I respect that.

The only concering thing about him and Coppelia is the fact that Coppelia apparently drew herself stabbing him when she was little. Which is. Well. Not ideal. The fact that he finds this completely normal is very in character, though.

On Coppelia by herself, though: the fact that she ‘tinkers with stuff in the basement’ concerns me. I wouldn’t at all be surprised if after the canon ending, she ends up to be a technician at Freddy’s at some point. Also, the fact that she’s a gamer warms my heart.

Now, on other outside-work activities: I love the implication that my man not only bowls and always pays for dinner, but that he bowls and pays for dinner while dining with his serial killer ex-boss. God, that’s awesome, I love that so much.

Tying back to a point I made previously and also to a point I saw some people make that I really, really resonated with: there are actually a lot of parallels between Henry/William and Ralph, especially concering parenting. I don’t think the fact that his dream to be a toymaker is accidental, either, or the fact that he goes out of his way to point out that he wants to make toys that aren’t at all mechanical. Because even though he’s also a dad trying to make his kid happy with his creations, unlike William and/or Henry, he doesn’t want to make anything bigger than himself, or anything innovative; just wants to make simple things and make a kid’s day better. I don’t know man keeps me up at night, you know?

And, because this is only important to me: he owns a Kit-Cat Clock. This is somehow the most fitting thing I could’ve read about his taste in home decor.

And because I don’t know how else to end this: that’s a wrap! Was this book perfect? Hell no. The Bronwen plotline makes my brain hurt. But was it incredibly fun? Oh hell yes. And now I have a reference point for any future writings I do where Ralph is an active character, so that’s a major bonus. I have many thoughts but not enough time to put all of them down so I’m stopping here, major thanks to @graceandtheidiotsquad for pushing me over the edge and making me actually finish this with a reply lmao. And that’s all! Phone Man please get out of my head now before I go insane.