formerly avatar-of-procrastination. got chased off this website by anonymous weirdos, but unfortunately for them i have returned.
call me avatar or alice, whichever sounds cooler in your head.
⊠i write fanfiction
⊠i collect fictional characters like stray cats
⊠i love actual cats too
⊠professionally rotating the same 3 blorbos in my brain
⊠currently avoiding responsibilities by opening 47 tabs for "research"
⊠if i post at 4am mind your business
this blog contains:
⊠fanfics
⊠screaming
⊠reblogs at 3am
⊠occasional coherent thoughts
⊠evidence that touching grass is a social construct
if you knew me before: hi.
if you're new: sorry.
you can find my work here : masterlist
or just look under the tag #ficsbyalice on my page
Summary: You're obsessed with him, and him with you.
Author's Note: hello my lovely babies. idek if this fandom is alive anymore but ehh someone someday will read it. axl my baby has revived me from the depths of hell that is writers block. so yes. you will have updates on my other fics too dw
Disclaimer: none! just flufffffff. oh used Y/N in this one. sorry y'all </3
(also just look at him AAAAGHHH I WANNA GOBBLE HIM UPPP)
Main Masterlist
The familiar screech of Axl's garage door rattled through the neighborhood.
Inside, Axl and his friends stumbled through another song, the drums a little too loud, the guitar a little out of tune, and Axl insisting they were 'totally getting better.'
Across the driveway, you sat on the Hecks' front steps with a paperback resting in your lap. You hadn't turned a page in ten minutes.
You were listening.
Every now and then, the garage door would slide open so someone could grab a soda, and Axl would glance toward the house.
The fourth time, he caught your eye.
His face lit up so quickly it was almost comical.
"Hey!" he called, grinning like he'd forgotten everyone else existed.
You smiled back, lifting your hand in a little wave. "Hey."
His bandmates exchanged amused looks.
"Dude," one of them muttered. "Your girlfriend's here."
Axl rolled his eyes, tryingâand failingâto look cool.
"Yeah, so?"
He abandoned his guitar against a speaker and jogged over to you without another thought.
"You've been here long?"
"Like... twenty minutes."
"For real?" He frowned. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"You looked busy."
"I would've taken a break."
"You've taken four already."
"...Okay, that's fair."
You laughed, and Axl couldn't help laughing with you. He plopped down beside you on the steps, knees bumping yours.
"You hungry?" he asked.
"I had dinner."
"Dang."
"Why?"
"'Cause I was gonna steal whatever Mom made."
You giggled.
From inside the house, Frankie happened to glance out the front window.
"...Mike."
Mike didn't look up from the TV.
"Hm?"
"Come here."
"If this is another squirrelâ"
"It's not a squirrel."
He wandered over with the enthusiasm of someone expecting absolutely nothing interesting. Frankie pointed through the curtains.
Outside, Axl was talking animatedly with you, using his hands so much he nearly smacked himself in the face. You laughed so hard you had to lean against his shoulder.
Without thinking, Axl rested an arm around you.
Mike blinked. "...Who's that?"
"That's Y/N."
"I know who she is."
"No, I mean..." Frankie gestured dramatically. "Look at him."
Mike squinted. Axl was smiling. Actually smiling. Not his usual smug grin. Not his 'I got away with something' grin.
A genuine, ridiculously soft smile.
"...Huh," Mike said.
"I have never seen him look at anyone like that."
Outside, Axl reached over and tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear before immediately pretending he hadn't done something so unbelievably sappy.
You looked up at him with the kind of smile that made your whole face glow.
Frankie pressed a hand to her chest.
"Oh, my gosh."
Mike folded his arms.
"I didn't even know he knew how to do that."
Axl stood, offering you his hand.
"C'mon."
"Where?"
"I wanna show you something."
He led you inside the garage. His band groaned the second they saw him.
"There he is."
"Took you long enough."
Axl ignored them. "Guys, this is Y/N."
"We know," one of them laughed. "You mention her every practice."
"I do not."
"You literally said, 'Y/N likes this song.'" Sean rotorted.
"And yesterday it was, 'Y/N thinks this riff sounds better.'"
"And don't forgetâ"
"'Y/N said my hair looked nice today.'" They all said in unison.
You covered your mouth to hide your smile. Axl's ears turned bright red.
"Shut up."
His friends burst into laughter.
"You are whipped."
"I am not whipped."
"You walked away mid-song."
"Because she was outside!"
"Exactly."
You reached over, slipping your fingers into his.
"It's okay."
He looked down at your joined hands, then back up at you with the biggest grin.
"...Okay, maybe a little."
By the time the sun had disappeared, the porch lights flickered on. You checked your phone.
"I should probably head home."
"I'll walk you."
"You don't have to."
"I know."
He said it so simply that it made your heart flutter. You smiled up at him, completely lovestruck.
"Okay."
He grabbed your hand before either of you could overthink it.
The two of you wandered down the sidewalk together, hands swinging between you as your conversation slowly disappeared into the warm Indiana evening.
Frankie watched from the porch until you were nearly out of sight.
"You see that look she gave him?"
Mike nodded once.
"The one like he hung the moon."
Frankie smiled softly.
"And the way he looks at her..."
Mike chuckled.
"Our kid?"
"Our kid."
He shrugged.
"...Might be the one."
Frankie leaned her head against his shoulder.
"I think so too."
Down the street, Axl squeezed your hand. You squeezed back.
Neither of you noticed the Hecks smiling from the porch.
as always, comment and share!!! tysmmmm for reading!
i re discovered my love for axl heck from the middle. and i have a worm telling me to write for him. meanwhile my dhurandhar fic and demon slayyer fic are crying to be released from jail
rebellious, lazy, and âdumbâ older brothers with two younger siblings who get bad grades and like music đđ (rodrick has a band and likes metal music, axl had a band before, and georgie likes guns n rose + bon jovi!)
Iâll never forget the fanfic space on wattpad back in 2016-2017âish where its culture was that writers would not post their new chapters until they reached x amount of votes (kudos) and comments. I mean Iâd never judge anyone for how they chose to update their fics even though I didnât agree with them. but like. it was the entire wattpad fanfic culture back then that made most writers believe they had to set these specific numbers of votes and comments that they must reach first before they posted the next chapters. so if you were on the fanfic corner of wattpad during that time, youâd most likely have seen fics where it said in the chapter something like â50 votes and 20 comments for the next chapter!â and it was literally the norm and so normalized that I didnât see anything weird about it back then. but looking back, years after Iâve left wattpad for ao3, yeah that culture as a whole was weird and it shaped writers into thinking that they wrote for the sake of shallow engagement instead for the joy of getting to create, it shaped writers into thinking that their ficsâ worth was decided and dictated by strangersâ approval. and then tiktok became a thing and this mindset continued. not to mention how wattpad is full of ads now unless you pay the site monthly for a premium, ad-free service.
so like. man, this is why I love ao3. thereâs none of these capitalism or algorithm bullshit on ao3. just writers creating out of love and passion. everybody say thank you ao3
Summary: What if, during the final confrontation at the school, you were the one taken hostage instead, used as leverage against Na Hwajin instead of Jang Seong Gu?
Author's Note: Lmao my babies here I am, writing a new fic for my latest obsession instead of completing my existing drafts hehehehe. There is a lack of teach you a lesson fics on here and I shall do my best to increase that. Hope you guys like it!
Disclaimer: This fic contains canon-typical violence, mentions of bullying, knives, etc. Reader discretion advised.
Main Masterlist
By the time Hwajin forced Gyu-cheol back against the far wall of the classroom, the fight had already taken its toll on the building around them. Several desks lay overturned across the floor, their metal legs twisted from the force of bodies being thrown into them, while shattered fragments of glass glittered beneath the weak afternoon light filtering through the cracked windows. Dust hung suspended in the air, disturbed by every movement, every impact, every laboured breath, and for the first time since entering the abandoned school, Hwajin allowed himself to believe that this was finally over.
The expression on Gyu-cheol's face had changed.
Gone was the arrogance that had accompanied him throughout the confrontation, replaced instead by the desperate uncertainty of a young man beginning to realise that he was no longer in control of the situation he had created. The sight should have been satisfying. It should have offered some measure of closure after years spent carrying memories that refused to remain buried.
Instead, an inexplicable sense of unease settled over Hwajin's shoulders.
It arrived, manifesting as nothing more than a tightening sensation in his chest, yet it was enough to make him pause.
Something was wrong.
His instincts had kept him alive for too long to ignore them now.
The realisation struck almost immediately afterwards.
You were gone.
Until that moment, he had not consciously registered your absence. The confrontation with Gyu-cheol had demanded his full attention, and somewhere amidst the chaos of pursuing him through the school, forcing him into a corner and preventing another escape, he had lost sight of the person who had entered the building beside him.
A cold sensation spread through his stomach. Slowly, his gaze swept across the room.
The overturned desks. The broken chairs. The cluster of students lingering near the doorway.
Then he saw you.
For a brief, terrible moment, he could not move.
The distance separating you was insignificant, yet it felt impossibly vast as his eyes travelled across the bruises marring your skin, the tears in your clothing, and the unmistakable strain evident in every line of your posture. One of Gyu-cheol's followers held you upright with an arm locked around your shoulders, while the other hand pressed a knife so tightly against your throat that a thin line of red had already begun to form beneath the blade.
You were trying not to show how much pain you were in.
That was the first thing he noticed.
Not the knife or the blood or the obvious danger.
You.
The effort it took for you to remain standing. The way your injured leg threatened to give way each time your captor shifted his grip. The tremor in your hands. The exhaustion visible in your eyes.
And despite all of it, despite the bruising already spreading across your face and the obvious fear you could not entirely conceal, you looked directly at him and attempted a reassuring smile.
The gesture was so absurd under the circumstances that it should have been impossible.
Yet there it was.
The sight hollowed something out inside him.
Without warning, another image forced itself to the surface of his mind.
A classroom floor stained red. A trembling hand. A weakening voice. The suffocating certainty that no matter how desperately he tried to reach her, he was already too late.
For years he had carried that memory with him like a wound that never healed properly, concealed beneath layers of discipline and routine and relentless work, convincing himself that if he remained vigilant enough, if he became strong enough, if he dedicated every waking moment to protecting others, then perhaps he would never have to experience that helplessness again.
Yet standing in that ruined classroom, watching another person he cared about held at knifepoint while he remained powerless to intervene, the old fear returned with such force that it momentarily stole the breath from his lungs.
Not again.
The words formed silently within the confines of his own mind.
Not again. He had failed once. The possibility of failing twice was unbearable.
Your eyes widened slightly as you recognised the expression on his face, and whatever discomfort you were experiencing seemed to become secondary to your concern for him.
It was infuriating.
Even now, even in this situation, you were worrying about someone else.
"Hwajin," you called, your voice noticeably weaker than usual, though you attempted to disguise it beneath an almost convincing smile. "I'm alright."
The lie would have been laughable under different circumstances.
You were bruised, bleeding, exhausted and visibly struggling to remain upright, yet somehow you still found the strength to prioritise his peace of mind over your own wellbeing.
Something tightened painfully in his chest. Because you should never have been standing there. You should never have been dragged into this. You should never have been forced to suffer the consequences of a conflict that had begun long before you entered his life.
And most of all, you should never have been looking at him as though his feelings mattered more than the knife resting against your throat.
Gyu-cheol noticed where his attention had settled and smiled. The expression carried all the cruelty of someone who had finally discovered exactly where to strike. For the first time since entering the room, genuine satisfaction appeared in his eyes.
He understood.
He understood that Na Hwajin's greatest weakness had never been his own pain.
It had always been the people he could not bear to lose.
His smile widened almost imperceptibly as he watched the change pass across Hwajin's face, and for a moment the room seemed to settle into an uneasy stillness, every person present instinctively recognising that something fundamental had shifted.
"Are you sure you want to do that?"
The question was directed at Hwajin, though Gyu-cheol's attention remained fixed upon the knife pressed against your throat.
Under ordinary circumstances, Hwajin would have dismissed the remark as another desperate attempt to regain control of a losing situation. He had spent years dealing with bullies who mistook cruelty for strength and manipulation for intelligence. He knew every variation of the game.
This time, however, his gaze remained locked on you.
Your condition was worse than he had initially realised.
Bruises darkened your arms beneath the torn fabric of your shirt. There was a stiffness to the way you carried yourself that suggested an injury somewhere along your side, and the colour had drained from your face to such an extent that it made his stomach tighten unpleasantly.
Most troubling of all was the effort it was taking for you to remain standing.
The sight filled him with a quiet, simmering anger unlike anything he had felt since Ga-yun's death.
Not because you were injured. Because he had allowed it to happen.
You must have seen something of that guilt reflected in his expression because, despite your circumstances, despite the knife resting against your skin and the obvious pain radiating through your body, you attempted another smile.
Nothing about this situation was fine. Nothing about the bruises decorating your skin or the blood at the corner of your mouth was fine.
Gyu-cheol noticed the exchange and chuckled. Then he gave a small nod.
The boy holding you understood immediately. The blow landed across your ribs with enough force to drive the air from your lungs. Pain exploded through your side. A strangled gasp escaped before you could stop it.
For a moment your vision blurred as agony radiated through your chest, forcing you to double forward despite the grip keeping you upright.
The metallic taste of blood filled your mouth.
Across the room, something dangerous flashed behind Hwajin's eyes. The reaction was instantaneous.
The carefully maintained restraint that had governed every one of his actions since entering the building began to fracture.
"Hwajin..."
You barely managed to force the warning through clenched teeth.
You already knew what Gyu-cheol was doing.
The bruises... the threats... the knife. None of it was truly about you. You were simply the instrument.
The weakness Gyu-cheol intended to exploit.
And judging by the expression on Hwajin's face, it was working.
Gyu-cheol laughed. The sound echoed through the ruined classroom.
"Look at you."
His voice dripped with satisfaction.
"After all this time, you're still exactly the same."
Hwajin took a step forward.
The knife immediately pressed harder against your throat.
He stopped. Every muscle in his body locked. Every possible outcome raced through his mind. None of them were acceptable.
For perhaps the first time in years, Na Hwajin found himself trapped.
Any action carried the possibility of harm reaching you first.
The knowledge was unbearable.
And Gyu-cheol knew it. He stepped forward, brandishing the knife in his hands. The metal reflected the flourescent lights above his head. He quickly stepped forward and lodged it inHwajin's abdomen.
"You know," Gyu-cheol continued, his grin widening, "this isn't going to fly in court."
His words carried a disturbing casualness, as though he were discussing the weather rather than the lives hanging in the balance around him.
"As self-defence. Or manslaughter."
A shrug followed.
"I'll have to move out of the country."
The students surrounding him laughed nervously. He pulled it out and stabbed him again.
"There are schools all over the world."
Your heart dropped. The complete absence of remorse in his voice was somehow more horrifying than the violence itself.
"NO!"
The word tore itself from your throat before you could stop it. The boy restraining you tightened his grip.
Yet your eyes never left Hwajin. Because for the first time since you had met him, he looked genuinely exhausted. As though years of grief, anger and regret had suddenly become too heavy to carry.
Gyu-cheol continued speaking, but the words blurred together in your ears.
Your attention remained fixed on the man standing across the room. The man who had devoted years of his life to protecting children. The man who had walked willingly into danger for people who could never repay him. The man who still carried the memory of Ga-yun like a scar no amount of time could erase.
You watched his chest rise and fall. Watched his jaw tighten. Watched how the blood now seemed to seep through the black clothes.
"Listen to me carefully."
The room fell silent. Even Gyu-cheol stopped smiling.
"Everyone in this country has the right to an equal education."
His gaze never wavered. He held the knife in his abdomen and stumbled ahead slightly.
"To the extent of their abilities."
The words carried a conviction so profound that they seemed to fill the classroom.
"And through that, the right to be happy."
For the first time since entering the building, you felt tears gathering in your eyes.
Even now, even after everything, even standing in the same place where his world had once fallen apart, he still found the strength to move forward.
"This is what children come to school for."
Hwajin took another step forward.
"Anyone who gets in the way of that..."
His eyes settled on Gyu-cheol.
"...no matter who they are...has to be taught a lesson."
Something changed in Gyu-cheol's expression. For the first time, fear appeared. The kind that arrives when a person finally understands the consequences of their actions.
And as you watched the confrontation unfold, your attention remained fixed on Hwajin alone.
Because despite the blood staining his clothes.
Despite the exhaustion visible beneath his composure.
Despite everything he had endured.
He was still standing.
Still protecting people.
Still choosing compassion where hatred would have been easier.
And somehow, that hurt more than anything else. Because all you could think was that none of this would have happened if you had been stronger.
For several seconds after the confrontation ended, you remained exactly where you were, unable to distinguish between the ringing in your ears and the distant sounds of voices echoing somewhere beyond the classroom.
The tension that had consumed every nerve in your body moments earlier had nowhere to go now.
The room itself seemed strangely distant, its outlines softened by exhaustion and shock, while your mind struggled to process the reality unfolding in front of you.
Gyu-cheol's words no longer mattered.
Neither did the frightened students gathered around him. Neither did the shattered desks or the broken windows or the years of pain that had finally culminated in this confrontation.
"Hwajin."
Your voice emerged barely above a whisper.
His gaze shifted toward you.
For a brief moment, you thought everything might be alright.
He was still standing.
But then you started to notice the way his focus seemed to drift for half a second before returning. The slight delay in his response. The effort it was taking for him to remain upright.
Fear gripped your chest with icy fingers.
No.
Hwajin's eyes found yours across the room as though he were attempting to comfort you.
The classroom tilted slightly as you forced yourself forward. Every step sent pain shooting through your ribs. Your legs felt unsteady beneath you. Your entire body protested the movement.
You ignored it. Nothing mattered except reaching him.
"Hwajin."
This time your voice cracked.
He opened his mouth as though to say something. Perhaps to reassure you. Perhaps to tell you he was fine.
His knees gave way first. The sight shattered whatever composure you had been desperately clinging to. You lunged forward. The impact nearly knocked the breath from your lungs as you caught him. His weight settled heavily against you. Far heavier than you expected.
"Hwajin."
You lowered both of you to the floor as carefully as your trembling arms allowed. The entire world seemed to narrow until only the two of you remained. Everything else faded into irrelevance.
Because Hwajin's eyes were beginning to close.
"No."
You reached for him without thinking. Your hands shook so badly that you barely recognised them as your own.
"Hwajin, look at me."
His eyelids fluttered. For a moment they opened. His gaze moved across the bruises on your face. The blood staining your sleeve.
"You idiot."
Your voice trembled.
"You absolute idiot."
His brow furrowed slightly. Tears slipped down your cheeks before you noticed them.
You wiped them away angrily.
This wasn't the time. You couldn't afford this. Not when he had spent the entire day protecting everyone else. The guilt settled heavily inside your chest. If only you had been stronger. If only you had stayed closer. If only you had noticed the ambush sooner. If only you had not allowed yourself to become leverage.
Then none of this would have happened.
Hwajin would still be standing.
Instead he was here. Because of you.
"I'm sorry."
The words slipped out before you could stop them. Hwajin's eyes opened slightly.
Somewhere beneath his composure, beneath the confidence and strength he projected to everyone around him, there was still a man carrying the memory of the woman he couldn't save.
A man who had spent years trying to outrun grief through work. A man who would absolutely convince himself that this was another failure.
Another person hurt because he wasn't fast enough.
Your fingers tightened slightly around his hand.
The distant sound of approaching footsteps grew louder. Someone was shouting. Someone was running toward the classroom.
Help was finally arriving. Yet you found yourself unable to look away from Hwajin. Unable to focus on anything except the steady rise and fall of his chest.
As long as that continued, nothing else mattered.
"Stay with me. You don't get to leave yet."
Your voice cracked again. Somehow his mouth twitched very slightly.
The smallest acknowledgement. And for the first time since this nightmare began, hope stirred within your chest. You held onto it with everything you had. Because you knew one thing with absolute certainty. If Na Hwajin had spent years carrying other people through their darkest moments, then you could spend one night carrying him through his.
The relief that should have arrived with the sound of approaching footsteps never fully reached you. You were still holding Hwajinâs hand. You were still speaking to him, though you could no longer remember the exact words you had last formed.
Sounds reached you late.
Even your own breathing felt separated from you, as though your body had decided to continue the task without consulting the rest of you first.
Hwajin remained beneath your hands, his presence still anchoring you in place, though even that anchor felt heavier now, more difficult to hold onto.
His face was close enough that you could see the faint tension still lingering there, the stubborn refusal to surrender even as his body demanded rest. His eyes had opened again at some point, though they no longer held the same clarity they had before.
You wanted to tell him to stop looking at you like that.
You tried to lift your head but it felt heavier than it should have. Your body resisted the motion as though it had already decided for you what came next.
Still, you forced your eyes toward the doorway.
Im Hanrim.
âBoth of youâstay where you are!â
There was movement around her, additional officers flooding into the room, their presence filling the space with a sudden shift in atmosphere that should have felt like safety arriving.
It did not fully register. You saw Hanrim step closer. Saw her take in the scene in a single, controlled sweep of her eyes. And then her focus landed on the two of you.
Then she was moving again, kneeling beside you both issuing instructions you could no longer fully process.
The exhaustion that had been building since the moment you stepped into the school finally reached its limit, rising up through your limbs in a slow, unstoppable wave that left no room for resistance.
Your vision narrowed. The edges darkened.
You became dimly aware of Hanrim speaking again, her voice closer this time, directed at you specifically.
âHey,â she said, more softly now, though still firm enough to hold authority, âyouâre safe. Help is here.â
âIâm⊠sorryâŠâ
The world tilted gently. And the last thing you were aware of, before everything dissolved into darkness, was the faint pressure of Hwajinâs hand still holding yours, as though even unconsciousness could not fully convince him to let go.
asdfghj this was written completely on a whim lmao i hope i got the names right. as always, comment and share!!! tysmmmm for reading!
my favorite headcanon ever is tomioka somehow becoming an older brother figure to the children in the demon corps
like hereâs this pitiful ultra quiet wet dog looking guy whose trudging around the world like it hates him. and. and then there are like eight kids half his size wilingly trailing behind him like baby ducklings in a pond, staring up at him with wide sparkling eyes
idk theres just something so special to me about older parental/brother figure x the children he unwillingly adopts trope UGHBDNAKNS
if you leave this kind of comment on any fanfic writerâs work or if you think this shit is okay and isnât the reason more and more writers are choosing not to share their works with your entitled ass for free anymore, you should be ashamed of yourself.
if you suspect a fic is ai and if that bothers you, quietly close the tap and leave the fic. no one forces you to stay.
