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wri0thesley · 3 years

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A Well Rounded Education (4): Equality Statement (Fem!Reader x Naoya Zenin, 7.5k)

series synopsis: you are a teacher’s aid to teacher Gojo Satoru, training to be able to take over your own class next year by shadowing and helping him out. gojo, unfortunately, does not make things easy for anybody.

chapter synopsis: you make the mistake of crossing naoya zenin at a sports festival and are forced to apologise. but as you well know by now, nothing ever seems to go to plan where any of your student’s fathers are concerned.

NSFW. MINORS DNI. AFAB reader, fem pronouns. misogyny, weird power dynamics, hate-sex, piv sex, blowjobs. naoya.

(a well rounded education m.list and navigation) ♡ (jujutsu kaisen masterlist)

The Saturday morning that your first ever undokai is scheduled for dawns bright and early, and you can’t help the little thrill that goes through you at the golden fingers of dawn lighting up your room. There’d been talk of the weekend bringing rain, and things needing to be rescheduled – but it’s perfect weather, as you put on a comfortable tank top and shorts instead of your neat pencil skirt and suit jacket combination.

This will be your first event of the kind, and you’re excited about it. The kids in the class have been practising all of their cheers and routines and the like constantly, whilst the ones involved in the competitive sports have been cheering one another on and snatching time when they can to race against one another in preparation. It’s been nice to see all of the camaraderie between them – even some of the quieter ones have seemed to come a little bit out of their shell, with so much team spirit in the air.

Well. Most of them have. You’ve noticed Junpei still hanging back, face sad, uncomfortable when other boys crowd him and tug him off to who knows where – probably to get him involved in their own practises or rehearsals.

It’s been long and hard preparing for it, but even Gojo has been focused on something for once.

“There’s just something about events like this!” Gojo chirped to you, once, as he’d held up a megaphone he did not really need and called his class back into formation in front of him. “You know! The joy of youth! I want them to have the best time possible! They deserve it.”

Seeing Gojo’s mischievous eyes sparkle with determination instead of humour had made you smile at him, and you’d felt a strange pull in your chest when he’d smiled back, needing to pull your gaze away to ask Yuuji to stop poking Megumi in the back to get him to look at a weird caterpillar he’d found on the ground.

As a junior high undokai, things are a little more competitive than they might be if this were an elementary school or even a middle school event, but there’s still a big emphasis on the teamwork and the cheering on portion of the day. You’ve watched and applauded what feels like a hundred practises for the cheering section, confiscating whistles when they’re sneakily blown whilst you’re trying to teach a mathematics lesson.

Still, you’re not surprised to see that Gojo’s class have been corralled into his classroom whilst your vivacious teacher and mentor gives them a rallying encouragement that seems to contain a lot of bigging up the fact that they are, in fact, his class.

“I thought the pep talk was for them,” you say, as heads turn to you when you walk into the room. It’s strange to see all of the faces dressed in their gym uniforms instead of their school uniforms – and it’s even stranger to be wearing an approximation of it yourself.

“You look nice!” Yuji pipes up, and you smile at him.

“It is for them,” Gojo brings a hand to his sunglasses to push them down a little, giving you a charming smile and the full force of the galaxies swirling in his eyes. “I’m just reminding them that as Satoru Gojo’s class, of course they’re going to do well! We’re going to be the strongest, and win!” He looks at all of them – bright shining faces turned to him, all lit up with the excitement of competition. There’s something in him that you rarely see right now – something encouraging and bright and compassionate. He genuinely seems to want them to do well. “I believe in all of you!”

The warmth spreading through your chest at Gojo’s words is a new experience. You’re far more used to exasperation and frustration where he’s concerned.

But now, you can’t help the infectious smiles of the children and the determination in their face to do well enough for everyone to be proud of. Maybe Gojo isn’t so bad after all, you think, as he bids the children in the class farewell and tells them to go and join everyone else outside in preparation for the day’s events.

“What d’you think?” He asks you, as Junpei leaves the room, still dragging his feet a little. You can’t blame him. He’s involved in the cheering section, as so many of the less athletic kids are, but the undokai is not optional and you think that Junpei is the kind of boy who hates being looked at. “Are we gonna win?”

“I don’t think that’s quite the point of the exercise,” you say, eventually. “We’re supposed to be fostering team spirit and co-operation--”

“Yeah,” Gojo wrinkles his nose and grins. “But we’re still gonna win, right?”

You sigh.

“With Yuji and Maki? Probably. But that’s not the point!”

Gojo stands up and stretches his arms out above him. He’s in a shirt that clings tight to a surprisingly muscled abdomen, and dark grey sweatpants. He’s never been the ‘formal wear’ kind of teacher, but it’s still jarring to see him dressed so casually – and even more jarring to realise that he’s handsome, despite the fact you’ve spent most of the last few months rolling your eyes and sighing and cursing the world that you’ve ended up having to endure Satoru Gojo so much.

“I know, I know – but it’s nice to think about, right?” His grin is infectious. “Did you have time to have breakfast this morning? I know it’s an earlier start than usual, I’ve got a spare blueberry muffin in my bag – hope it didn’t get crushed too badly by my stretches--”

“I’m fine,” you tell him, already dreading the idea of him pressing a crumbled muffin into your hand. “I had a healthy, nutritious breakfast.”

“So did I!” He says, hotly. “The blueberry muffin had fruit in it, croissants are glazed with egg so that’s protein, and I had a slice of honey on toast too just because I felt like I’d have to keep my energy up today--”

You are constantly impressed by how he manages to consume all of this sugar without going into overdrive – then again, maybe that does explain a lot about him.

“I don’t really know what I’m supposed to be doing today,” you admit to him. “I mean, I know I’m here to cheer on the kids and stuff, but I don’t know what my role’s supposed to be--”

“Oh!” He comes around and begins to walk out of the classroom, beckoning you to follow him. “Didn’t I tell you? They told me ages ago--” He did not tell you. You don’t know why you find this a surprise. “You’re gonna be in charge of the refreshments table for the first half of the morning – Yuta, you know, the other teacher’s aid, he’ll relieve you for the second half so you can cheer us on and help me a bit. Not that I’ll need it! It’s not a hard job, just be polite to anyone who needs to use it, most of ‘em bring their own lunches and snacks but we find that it’s always good to have a table with some extras – especially when it’s so hot outside!”

“You didn’t,” you say, but you follow him anyway. You have learnt by now that the most you’ll get from Gojo is a shrug and an airy ‘sorry’. And you suppose, in the grand scheme of things, this isn’t so bad. It’s not like you needed to have time to stop and prepare yourself to give people a polite smile and ask them if they’d like you to pour them a glass of water.

The two of you spill out into the grounds of the school, which is already full of excited students and proud parents. You recognise a few of them – your face heats up as you see Nanami forcibly pressing a bottle of sunscreen into Yuji’s hands, and as the two of you walk past Geto who is tying back Mimiko and Nanako’s hair, ensuring the team hats that the students are all wearing sit neatly on their heads.

There’s a man stood with Maki and Mai who you assume is their father; a blond with a sneering face and a presence that makes you feel like you shouldn’t even be looking at him. Maki has her arms crossed, her chin jutting forward – the two of them are clearly involved in some kind of argument. Even as you watch, some other men are walking towards him with their heads bowed, like he’s something special.

You vaguely recall that you’ve heard some tell about the Zenins being a very rich, very old, very respected family. Judging from the way he carries himself and the way people keep looking at him, you think that must be it.

“Is that Maki and Mai’s dad?” You ask, curiously, as you’re pushed past him towards a collection of tables beneath a bright yellow awning. Gojo makes a noise that sounds like a sigh.

“Yep,” he says, sounding short. There’s some kind of history there, you think. “That’s Naoya Zenin. Better for you to avoid him, if you can – he’s not the kind of guy you want to cross, y’know?”

“But Maki’s--”

“Absolutely nothing like him,” Gojo deposits you in front of a table heaped with water jugs, ice cubes and plastic cups. “Really.”

You wrinkle your nose as you look around. At least everyone else seems happy – excited, buzzing with energy and the promise of an exciting day ahead. You can’t help but worry about Maki’s expression, though. She had looked like her and her father were having an argument that had been going on for months--

Gojo waves at you as he jogs across the field, moving surprisingly quickly for a man who ate nothing but sugar for his breakfast. You watch him go, unable to stop a smile forming on your face as he pauses by Maki and Mai. He slaps a hand onto Maki’s shoulder and says something with a bright grin that she seems to respond to with a smile, turning to follow him. Her father’s eyes narrow, as he spits something that even you can work out is venomous at the retreating backs of one of his daughters. He sighs as he says something else to Mai, a smile almost tugging at the corners of his mouth as his attention shifts back to her.

It’s clear who the golden child is there, then.

You try and shake your thoughts away from Naoya Zenin and his two girls and concentrate on the place that you’ve been given, reminding yourself that even if it doesn’t seem like a big role, you all have to work hard to make sure that today is a success. Your students have been practising and getting excited for this event for weeks, and you want all of the parents to be as proud of their students as you are.

You have a good view from the refreshments table of everything that’s going on. You watch a few of the races, a few cheering displays from the other classes to the beat of the drums – and when kids run up to you, sweaty and panting, you hand them a plastic cup full of cool water and they thank you as if you harvested it from a spring yourself instead of merely pouring it out.

Some parents ask you politely who you are, and you tell them with a smile and a bright look, hoping that you being friendly and polite will get back to other people. A few of them exchange looks when they hear that you’re attached to Gojo’s class; the man has a reputation that follows him everywhere. You give out oranges and other pieces of fruit to some of the students who need an extra sugar boost, or the ones who have a bandage wrapped around their knee or grazes from falls that have recently been cleaned. Shoko is busy today, and you often see her direct these injured children to you as a rest stop, and so their parents can find them easily.

You pause for a moment as the names are called for a relay race, and you hear Maki and Mai being summoned. This is the first race that they’re taking part in – if their team wins this one, they’ll qualify for the final this afternoon. You can see Gojo lifting his arms and hollering and hear his loud, excited voice even with all of the other people crowding into the school grounds to watch, and despite yourself you feel a smile spread over your face.

You’re still smiling when you hear a scoff.

You turn around to see what the fuss is – only to see Naoya Zenin, holding a plastic cup of water as if it’s offended him mortally. Seeing you looking at him, his lip curls.

“Is this tap water?” He asks you. He has a curious accent; slow, drawling, and clearly much superior to your own. It’s not an accent that Maki and Mai have inherited – and as he raises one eyebrow, the sun catching the rings in his ears, you find yourself glad of it. “Well?”

“I think so,” you say. You are on edge. He peers into it, and sighs.

“Don’t you have anything better? Cell-gen or Tennensui or even I LOHAS, at least?” He speaks to you slowly, like you’re a child, or as if he’s not sure whether a peasant like you would even know the names of any bottled water brands. You can’t stand being talked down to, and you curl your hand into a fist as you say, trying to keep yourself polite;

“I’m sorry, Sir. There’s just this.”

“You’d think with the money pumped in-- fine.” He sighs, taking a sip of the water, his face scrunching in displeasure at – you don’t know. The disgusting taste of tap water, you suppose. You try not to look at the bob of his throat as he swallows. Everything about this man seems to be unpleasant except the way he looks.

You take your own cup of water, just to quell some of the dryness that has made itself known in your throat at interacting with him.

The cheering gets a little quieter, and you turn to see what’s happened. As it turns out, all that’s actually happened is Gojo has stopped putting forth his own shouts to the fray, his eyes focussed on you and Naoya, a look that you think is almost sympathy spread across his face. You see that the race is about to begin, and you don’t look at Naoya as you say;

“You’re Maki and Mai’s father, aren’t you? Their first race is about to start. Maki’s been training really hard, I think she’ll pip it for us—”

A dark presence at your shoulder, and a sneering, uppity drawl.

“I gather you’re the teaching aid I’ve been hearing so much about from everyone.” he says. It does not sound like a compliment. “Maki has really found you . . . encouraging.” He says it like it’s a dirty word.

You force yourself to remain cheerful, and not ask him what the fuck his problem is.

“Maki’s really talented,” you say. “Mai’s fast, too – they’re both really good representatives for the class--”

Naoya snorts.

“They should be on the sidelines,” he says, coolly. “Supporting the men. Not running. Not getting all sweaty and hot and messing up their hair and their pretty faces.” He shakes his head. “It’s unwomanly, and if Maki listened to a word I’d said, she wouldn’t be doing it.”

“Mai is doing it too,” you point out, hating yourself for getting involved in this. But you just can’t let him stand there and be such an asshole, spewing his narrow-minded ideas when there are impressionable girls around.

“Mai’s already agreed that if they win this race, she’ll ask one of the boys to switch in for her. I’ve sorted it with the principal. It’s not ladylike for her to do any more than she has to. She’s not going to get a husband in good standing based on her athletic prowess--”

Oh, this is too far. You’re seething, though you’re trying to keep your respectable face on. You’re at work, you’re at work, you’re at work--

“Perhaps there are some other things they consider more important than finding a husband, at the age of twelve?”

Naoya’s laugh is nasty, mocking – and you hate that there’s something in it that sends a curl of heat right through you, blooming between your thighs.

“The younger a girl learns her place,” he says, his voice very slow. “The better it is and easier it is for a man to be assured she’ll do her duties. I don’t see a ring on your finger, Miss – I’d hate for them to end up working some dead-end little job just because they don’t have anyone to cook and clean for--”

Nope.

You can’t take it any longer.

You turn and you throw the cup of ‘shitty tap water’ in your hand right over Naoya Zenin’s stupid, smug, asshole face.

Gojo, for what you think must be one of the first time in his life, looks uncomfortable.

“I didn’t know you were going to throw water on him,” he tries to say, weakly. “Look, we all hate him, but . . . ugh. This is so frustrating! I hate all of this bureaucracy bullshit--”

It turns out that Naoya Zenin’s family – and Naoya Zenin himself – donate rather a lot of money to the school for such functions as the one you’re all currently attending. It turns out that nobody wants to piss off the bank-roll that’s keeping their gym maintained, their events fancy and expensive, the library well-stocked – and you get that! You really do! You know that school budgets are overstretched already, and that donors like the Zenin family are something to be gently courted and kept around for as long as humanly possible.

You just wish that the big donor for this school was anybody else.

“I didn’t know all of this,” you say, reasonably. “I know I shouldn’t have thrown a drink over him, but Mr. Gojo--”

“How many times? You can call me Satoru.”

“If you’d heard the way he was talking--”

“Oh, believe me,” Gojo’s full lips press into a thin line. “I know exactly what Naoya Zenin’s modus operandi is. Let me guess: he was all on at you about how Maki’s not a proper young lady, how the boys should be doing the hard work, how he’s trying to make sure his daughters get a proper start and a rich husband – ugh.” Gojo tugs at his shirt, clearly frustrated. “I’ve had it way too much.”

“Yeah,” you say. You find yourself sighing too.

“The Vice Principal’s in his back pocket,” Gojo says, taking a seat on top of the desk that you’re currently sat behind, cooling off some of your anger – Principal Masamichi had sent you inside to calm you down, and Naoya himself had been escorted into the building by Vice Principal Gakuganji to dry off, all the while saying placating things to calm down the school’s meal ticket. “They want you to apologise to him.”

“I suppose I should,” you say miserably. “But it’s gonna feel like swallowing gravel.”

“I certainly don’t blame you,” Gojo says, with a smile, trying to cheer you up. “Hell, I know some of the other staff members have been dying to do it--”

“Ugh,” you bury your face in your hands. “This is a horrible impression in front of the whole school.”

He pats you gently on the shoulder.

“Hey,” he says, “when this is all over, I’ll take you out for ice cream. I know the best places in the city, and they all know me too!”

You summon a smile for him. He’s not so bad, really – sure, he’s chaotic and thinks too highly of himself for his own good, but . . . at least he’s nothing like Naoya. You stand up and pull down your shorts, wriggling your tank top down to cover you as much as you possibly can. You feel a bit exposed, not in heels and stockings and a blouse.

“I should get this over with, then.”

Gojo has too much to do back on the field to escort you to Naoya himself, so he tells you that Naoya’s in the Vice Principal’s office and gives you another friendly squeeze on the shoulder.

“Good luck,” he tells you. “Remember: ice cream at the end of this!”

“Ice cream at the end of this,” you repeat, as you watch him jog out of the corridor. You’re almost tempted to tell him off for running in the halls – Gojo moves so fast that sometimes you lose track of him entirely – but you push back the urge. Gojo is being decent today. You’re thankful to him for sitting with you and helping you calm – and also, evidently, for being one of the things that keeps Maki’s fighting spirit inflamed.

You stand there for a moment, in front of the door to the office, balling up your courage tight and hot in your stomach. You do not want to have to apologise to Naoya, but you know it’s for the best. The sooner you can put this sorry incident behind you and try and avoid Naoya at every single function from herein, the better – so you tap hard on the door and wait until you hear his slow, drawling voice.

“You can come in.”

At first, you’re surprised to see that he’s alone in there – sitting in front of the desk in a comfortable chair, clearly at ease with everything. His arms are sprawled over the back of it, his legs wide apart. You chastise yourself for thinking it immediately – of course the vice principal is busy right now, of course he trusts someone as well-known to the school as Naoya to be alone in his office.

It’s hard not to think about every other time you’ve found yourself alone with the parents of your students, though. A heat crawls onto your face at the very thought of it. You find Naoya repellent, disgusting – but then again, he’s also (and you’re not being glib about it) handsome. You’d be lying if you’d said you sometimes hadn’t ignored a man’s personality for a night in favour of a face and a body that had drawn you in.

Not now.

You close the door behind you, clasping your hands together so you don’t clench your fists, and bow your head so that Naoya can’t tell that you’re grinding your teeth.

“I’m sorry for letting my emotions get the better of me, Sir,” you say, though it really does feel like you are gnashing ice to get the words out. “I should have been more polite. I can assure you it won’t happen again.”

“Mmm,” Naoya says, and you peek up at him through your lashes to see that he’s clearly enjoying having you at his mercy, his lips tilted into a smirk. His hair is still a little wet at the ends, but all that you throwing the water over him seems to have actually done is made his shirt cling tight to a surprisingly chiselled chest and stomach. Asshole. Fuck him. “Yes. I should hope not.”

You straighten yourself up, still a little stiff.

“I hope you can forgive me,” you say. “I . . . I am still learning my place in the establishment.”

He laughs, low and soft.

“Your place?” He asks, the words dangerously sweet on his tongue. “Yes. I can see you still need some help on that one.”

His eyes crawl over you slowly, dragging up and down the length of you, lingering over where your shorts cling to your hips and the tank top hugs your chest. You resist the urge to shift – you don’t want to let him know that he’s making you uncomfortable. You know, though, that he can sense that you have gone hot and prickly all over. He has that smug air; the one men who know what they do to people always seem to have cultivated. The knowledge that they are good-looking.

You suppose for Naoya, it’s the heady combination of knowing he is good-looking and powerful and rich, and you breathe through the force of all of his attention concentrated on you.

“Seeing as you’re still . . . new to all of this,” he says, bringing an arm forward to tap his long fingers on the desk. “And you did apologise prettily, I suppose I can forgive this transgression – just this once, darling.”

The pet name crawls up your spine like ice. He’s still staring at you, enjoying the view like you’re a piece of meat on a market stall he’s considering purchasing.

“Th-thank you, Sir,” you say, hating yourself a little bit but hating him all the more.

“You know,” he says. “You’re not exactly bad-looking.” He stands, rising to his full height, stretching out, frustratingly comfortable in this environment when you feel like a deer who’s about to turn tail and flee at any moment. “You’d be much better off at home raising children than here.” He wrinkles his nose. “Working for a living.” The way that he says the words makes it clear that he considers this a task far beneath the likes of him.

He’s moving towards you now, and your breath seems to get stuck in your throat as he’s suddenly in front of you, stalking elegantly. You want to snap back something about how you’d rather work for a living than have to rely on the whims of a man, much less a man like him – but as he grabs your chin to tilt it up to the light, you find that the words seem to die in your throat.

“Hmm,” he says. “Not bad at all.” He makes an approving noise that sends a flutter right through you, making you dully aware of a pounding ache between your thighs. He leans a little further in, until he’s so close that you can see the pale colours dancing in his eyes, the way the light hits his high cheekbones. “You’re trembling with rage, you know. It’s adorable.”

“You’re very easy to be angry at,” you half-breathe, half-hiss, and Naoya’s smirk is going to be burnt into your memory forever and ever.

“If you’re so angry,” he murmurs, “I can certainly think of a way I wouldn’t mind helping you work out your aggression.”

You shouldn’t do it. But your heart is beating a frantic rhythm against your ribcage and your breath is short, and part of you wants to wrestle him to the ground and dominate him so that he can have a taste of his own medicine. You grab a handful of his hair and drag him down into a bruising kiss.

Oh, and he kisses back. His mouth is soft against yours, but the kiss itself is rough – both of your tongues fighting for dominance, both of you trying to nip at one another’s bottom lip and seize the victory. You’re practically shoved backwards so that your ass catches the edge of the Vice Principal’s desk, even as you tug hard on Naoya’s hair to tell him that you’re not going to be overpowered by him so easily. You feel the feral curve of his grin as he pulls back just enough to whisper;

“Oh? You really think you’re going to get the better of me? You’re cute--” and then you push his shoulders hard, and he stumbles and falls back onto the chair he started this whole escapade sat in. You reach down to tug off your shirt, dropping it onto the floor beside you – Naoya looks for a moment like he’s going to stand back up and resume trying to wrest back the situation into his favour, but as he sees the slight bounce of your breasts in your bra he seems to decide it would be more interesting and beneficial for him to stay exactly where he is and watch you disrobe.

So you do, wriggling your shorts down past your hips – he lets out a low groan at that, as you stand before him in nothing but your underwear with your fists clenched on your hips.

You feel surprisingly powerful like this. It definitely makes a difference from all of the other ways you’ve felt when you’ve been alone with somebody’s father--

“Take off your shirt,” you tell him, and you’re almost surprised at the imperious tone in your own voice. “It’s your turn--”

He raises an eyebrow at you, but he does as you ask. Long fingers curling around the hem of his shirt, taking his sweet time pulling it off his body – and yes, it’s a nice one. Nice, too, are his thighs as he undoes his trousers that probably cost more than you make in a year and pushes them down, sitting before you in nothing but his equally as expensive-looking underwear – an impressive looking bulge outline pressed against the fabric. Even as he looks at you, he takes hold of himself through it and squeezes it, his grin crooked.

Your body does a throb of need.

“Oh,” you say, feigning surprise. “I didn’t realise you were so needy already--”

“Like you’re not dripping,” he says sharply, his eyes zeroing in on the space between your thighs. “Don’t flatter yourself. I can see the damp patch from here.”

“Who’s to say that’s for you?” You walk towards him. You can’t help but feel powerful and in control at how his eyes follow you with rapt attention, how his tongue darts out to swipe across his bottom lip as he drinks in your form in front of him.

“Please,” he says. “As if there’s anyone here more deserving.”

He reaches forward and his hands settle on your hips, dragging you closer to him – hot fingertips brushing your waist, the bare skin beneath your bra before he’s unclipping that too and your breasts are bare. He breathes in deeply.

“Pity,” he says, though his voice is thick with his own arousal. “You’re such a cute little thing, if only you didn’t open your mouth--”

“I’m sure you wouldn’t mind me opening my mouth to do something else,” you breathe, and you reach down to ghost your fingers over his cock through the tent in his underwear. He hisses through his teeth, his eyes half-lidded.

“Don’t just say it, princess,” he says. “If you’re going to run your mouth, the least you could do is make it do something useful--”

“I’d rather die than get on my knees for you.” Your mouth is very close to his neck – to punctuate the statement, you give his earlobe a tug with your teeth, and he practically groans. You’re almost straddling him on the chair, and you do not miss, either, the twitch that his cock seems to give at the tug.

It seems like for somebody who really wants to be in control, and wants women to know their place so badly, Naoya actually is rather enjoying somebody giving him a taste of his own medicine.

He grabs your underwear and pulls it down, clicking his tongue as it bunches about your knees.

“Just give into what your body wants,” he says, all saccharine sweetness in that slow, deep voice. “You’ve made a mess.”

You know you have. You can feel slick when your thighs press too close together, hot and wet between your legs. You really are practically dripping. But it’s not just from Naoya, you don’t think – it’s from the sudden power you’re feeling, the rush of being an equal participant in everything, in feeling like you have the upper hand. And not a small part, you think, is because of the adrenaline that’s coursing through your veins at the thought of putting Naoya Zenin in his place. You tip your head to the side innocently.

“What about you?” You ask, with a mean shade to the pitch of your voice. “You’re so hard it’s a wonder you’re not in pain--”

He grabs a hank of your hair with one hand whilst spreading your legs further with the other, so strong that the breath’s knocked out of you. The tip of his finger skims the outer lips of your sex, gathering your slick arousal on the pad as he growls;

“I’m still a man, darling. I see a pretty cunt to fuck and a pair of nice tits and I want to bury myself into it until the bitch remembers her place--”

“Good luck,” you breathe. “I think you’ll be the one remembering his place, here.”

He laughs breathlessly.

“Oh,” he purrs. “You’re going to be singing a different song when you’re begging me to fuck you harder.”

You give him a smile with your teeth bared; the challenge is obvious. It’s a smile that says ‘we’ll see’, even as you both tug at his underwear to pull it down and reveal what he’s been hiding beneath it.

You don’t want to admit that he’s got a pretty cock, but he has. He’s not the biggest you’ve seen, but it’s still impressive; a slight curve giving it an elegant angle that you realise with a clench will hit you exactly in the right spot when you take it inside of you.

He’s slick with his own pre-come, bubbling from the reddened slit – and as you shift forward and trap it between your thighs, he groans aloud again.

“That’s right,” he grunts, as the tip catches on your entrance and you begin to sink down upon it. “This is what you were made for, princess--”

“What?” You pant. “That would be disappointing. You barely fill me up--”

He grabs you and pulls you into another kiss as you finish off sheathing his cock inside of you – perhaps to save his pride, perhaps to muffle the noise that comes out of him, transferred into your mouth instead of his own. Whichever it is, you hate that you were right about the angle of his cock – you can feel it pressing snugly against the spongy G-spot even now, threatening you with a better time than you’d like to have.

You break the kiss to pull yourself off of him and sink back down, forcibly taking the lead and setting your own pace. You know it’s fast, you know it’s greedy – but fuck, if you aren’t boiling over with need.

You splay your hands across his shoulders, nails digging into his skin with little care to how you might mark him. You need him for leverage, as you continue to bounce up and down on his cock. Naoya tips his head back and groans, enjoying the feeling, before he remembers that you two are engaged in a battle of wits and attempts to get the better of you once more.

“I-is that,” he groans, coming to cling onto your waist and force you down on him with even more strength, helping you along in the too-fast rhythm of your thrusts and bounces. “The best you’ve got?”

“Come on,” you say breathlessly, as his cock continues to stroke that spot. You can hear the sounds of him sliding in and out of you, shamefully loud – too, you can hear the sounds of your skin slapping against one another, echoing and mixing with the breathless pants and the attempts to trade barbed insults. “Y-you’re making me do all the work?”

“Fucking pity you’ve got such a nice cunt,” Naoya snarls, his hips flexing, somehow managing to hit you deeper even as you’re bouncing on the balls of your feet and straddling him on the chair. His words are starting to sound very far away. “You should be in my fucking bed, keeping it warm, better off than wasting away here--”

Both of you are running your mouths, overwhelmed by how close one another’s bodies are and the intense heat radiating from you. There’s a frisson of electricity in the air, showering sparks, as the two of you continue to snatch words in between moans and groans and pants and whimpers--

“You’re pathetic--”

“You’re so fucking tight, I shouldn’t be surprised when you’re such a bitch--”

“F-fuck, harder, c-can’t you even keep the momentum going? You’re weak--”

“Baby girl, you’re fucking shaking – you gonna come first? Women are so predictable--”

You can feel your release hovering on the edge of your vision, blurring it as your eyes squeeze shut and you feel tears threatening to roll down your cheeks. There’s a heat inside of you that’s close to overspilling – and as you come down on him particularly hard, the head of his cock rolls over your g-spot just right, and you feel a dam inside of you break as your nails dig hard enough into his shoulders to draw blood. You bury your face into his neck so he doesn’t get the satisfaction of hearing you cry out his name, teeth worrying into his neck to leave a love-bite reminder of exactly what transpired between you two in the Vice Principal’s office.

You feel yourself twitch and tighten around him as your orgasm rocks your body, heat running through you like veins of marble. You can’t breathe – all you can do is bite, your hips chasing the final aftershocks.

Naoya is still hard inside of you as you lift yourself off him, letting his cock slip out of you as easily as butter. His own hands clench around your hips.

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” He asks, his voice rough and hungry. Despite that, though, you can hear the thread of some other emotion sewn in to them – and with a shiver of delight, you realise it’s neediness. He’s been left wanting, and you’ve been handed all of the cards. “I haven’t finished.”

“And you won’t finish inside me,” you snap at him, enjoying the longing in his voice. “Ask me very nicely and I’ll finish you off with my hand.”

“Mouth,” he demands – and he grabs your cheeks, squishing them, pulling you down and reminding you of all of the power that he has even though it’s your body that’s got the advantage of the high ground. “You don’t really think I’m going to be satisfied with your hand, princess--”

“You don’t deserve it,” you spit at him, but you sink to your knees anyway.

You’re not entirely lacking in manners. You suppose you did get to come. It would be rude to just leave him like this. Especially when the whole reason you’d ended up in this office in the first place was to apologise to him politely.

“This is the perfect position for you,” he sneers, as you open your mouth and envelope the head of his cock within it. You can taste yourself on his shaft. “Fuck, that’s right – put your mouth to good use for once--”

You give him a mean, slow lick along the slit of his cock head that makes him groan in the back of his throat. He wraps his hand around the back of your neck, fingers digging into the nape so he can control you at least a little bit, pushing you a touch too far so you almost choke. You pull off it, drooling.

“Choke me again and I’ll bite,” you snarl, and he pats your cheek like you’re an obedient dog.

“You wouldn’t dare,” he says – and you narrow your eyes at him in a way that says ‘try me’ before you return to sucking at him, hollowing your cheeks. You want to do a good job. A part of you wants to make him come so hard that he regrets being an asshole to you, even though you know that’s ridiculous and not going to happen.

Still. You’re not going to back down from a challenge, so you use your tongue to play along as much of his cock as you can.

“Fuck,” Naoya breathes. “Good . . . good fuckin’ girl—”

You’ve been hearing that low, polite drawl swear and curse for what seems like hours, but that one sends another pulse of heat through you – at your heart, you can’t argue that you love being praised. You whimper against his cock, glad that the fast pace you’ve managed to establish and the wet noises of your mouth around him muffle the noise so Naoya can’t dangle it over your head.

The hand on the nape of your neck jerks, so that you’re forced to look up at him and meet his eyes proper. His hips are slamming to meet your bobs now, the noise of him fucking your mouth filling the room. His teeth dig into his bottom lip and you feel him twitch, his voice pitching--

Salt coats your tongue as he fills your mouth.

But he doesn’t let himself finish there.

He pulls out, and he pumps his cock himself two, three times – coaxing out the other ropes of come, that hit your neck and chest and breasts hot and white and glistening. You’re too surprised by it to do anything – you’d expected him to keep your mouth on him, make you swallow down everything he gave you. He seems the kind of guy who gets off on that sort of thing--

But instead, he’s sighing, relaxing back into the chair as he looks at you with lazy eyes.

“You look cute like that,” he says, his voice low and sated. “I should take a picture.”

“Fuck you,” you breathe, getting off your knees. You are so fucking thankful for the box of tissues on the Vice Principal’s desk, as you reach across and grab some to dab at yourself so you’re not sticky and disgusting for any longer than necessary.

If you leave them in his pedal waste-bin, you hope that the cleaning crew will dispose of them before the Vice Principal is even aware that they’re there. Your lip curls as you wipe your mouth. You wish you had a mint – or at least a glass of water. Even tap water would do.

For what it’s worth, Naoya seems a little agitated as he puts himself to rights too. Evidently he was not expecting you to fight back so much – he places a finger on his shoulders and scowls when he sees that you made him bleed.

“I should sue you for assault,” he says. You tap your own body, at the curve of your hips and waist.

“I’m going to bruise,” you tell him. “So I guess it would be self-defence.”

“You’re too smart for your own good,” he tells you, with narrowed eyes – and you give him another smile, one that is clearly fake, as you pull your tank top and shorts back on and re-tie your shoes.

You’re surprised as you go to leave the room and he sets a hand on the small of your back in a mocking echo of polite manners. As the two of you walk down the corridor towards the exit, he does not remove it. To the assembled crowds, you hope it will look entirely innocent – like the two of you have merely had a little chat and come to an agreement instead of heatedly fucking one another’s brains out.

You blink as you emerge out into the light, your eyes taking a moment to adjust. You see Principal Masamichi give you a sympathetic smile – and there’s Gojo, immediately charging towards you like an overprotective bear. He slows down as he sees the way that Naoya is still touching you.

“I hope everything’s alright,” he says, sounding stiffer and more formal than you usually hear. Naoya’s smile towards him is cold.

“Everything’s fine,” he says, “Perfect. You apologised beautifully, didn’t you, Miss?” Naoya looks down his nose at you, a conceited smile on his mouth. “I’ve decided to overlook this little transgression.” He leaves a pause, and you swallow as you realise what he’s waiting for.

“Thank you so much, Mr Zenin, Sir,” you say. Again, it feels like you have to force the words out through a mouthful of marbles – but they make it out of your mouth.

“Oh, don’t be so formal, Miss,” he smirks. “You can call me Naoya. I look forward to seeing you again – soon, I hope.”

“You’re just in time,” Gojo says coldly. “Maki just won the final race of the day for our team.”

Naoya’s gaze is sharp as he looks at him. His lip curls. You can tell that both of them want to do something – maybe have an out-and-out fist fight on the field. But Naoya manages to get a grip (you’re glad about it; you’re not entirely sure whether Gojo would have been able to hold back) and turns on his heel to stalk away.

He does give your ass one last squeeze, though, that you desperately hope that Gojo doesn’t notice.

Gojo’s shoulders stay set, his chin thrust proudly forward, until Naoya has been swallowed up by the crowd at large – and then, he turns to you. For the first time, you see his normally humorous eyebrows draw in with worry.

“You look upset,” he says. “Sweaty. You smell terrible. Do you need a minute?”

Your shoulders fall. Gojo gives you a sympathetic pat on the back.

“It’s a rite of passage to deal with someone from the Zenin family,” he says. “You’re just unlucky it happened to actually be Naoya today. He usually sends an underling or an uncle or someone to pretend to care about the girls.”

Wow. You sure hope the rite of passage has gone differently for everyone else.

“Why d’you think he came here today, then?” You ask Gojo. He looks at you strangely, a spark of something you can’t quite read in his eyes.

“Well,” he says, “he’s related to the Fushiguros, you know. I heard he and Megumi’s father have met up recently for drinks – it ended in a fight, of course, it always does. But maybe he expected Megumi’s dad to be here too?” He shrugs. “He can never resist an opportunity to relish over someone in his family winning, even if he doesn’t want Maki doing anything unladylike. Megumi’s dad isn’t here, though, so looks like that backfired on him--”

Your face feels like it’s on fire as you think about Megumi’s father fucking you on Gojo’s desk – and the lingering way that Naoya had said that he’d heard so much about you from everyone.

#naoya zenin x reader #naoya x reader #naoya x you #naoya smut #naoya zenin smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #not sfw #afab reader #fem pronouns #jjk teacher aid au #jjk writing #writing

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obey-only-me · 3 years

Text

The Brothers and Diavolo’s First Kiss with MC By: Akuzondelivery

Lucifer

- You had stayed behind to help clean up after the student council. Lucifer stayed as well to walk you home.

- On the way out you dropped some of the folders and documents from today’s meeting.

- “I’ll help, you’ve already done so much. Thank you MC.” Those eyes and that smirk looked up to you.

- You suddenly felt how close you were to him and stiffened.

- It was Lucifer who was so good at reading you, he noticed your tensed demeanor.

- “What’s wrong?” His gloved fingers reached to tuck a strand of hair away from your face. Though you were trying to hide it at the moment.

- “No, nothing’s wrong. Ready to go?”

- You hurriedly placed the stray papers away and turned to a looming gaze.

- “Oh-!” Lucifer gently lifted your chin and placed a soft kiss on your cheek. Something he’d done to tease you in the past.

- He pulled away with a smirk, fully intending to stop there but something just clicked.

- He eased forward again to ensnare your lips in his. You let your impulses get the best of you as you kissed back, bracing yourself against his chest.

- Breaking for a moment his crimson eyes focused solely on you

- “I...lets continue this in my room.”

Mammon

- You sat together on the floor of your room while watching a drama.

- He had spent some time during the episode play on his DDD.

- “Hey! MC! Check it out, I’m on the new ad for that last shoot I did!”

- A lot of attractive female and male demons wore formal wear mixed with sportswear.

- And there dead center was Mammon looking as gorgeous as ever. For some reason you felt a rush of heat run to your face.

- “H-hey, what’s with that look?” Shit he noticed right away.

- Instinctively you covered your face with your hands to hide. “Don’t look dummy!”

- You hear him come closer, laughing like an asshole.

- “Oh so MC can’t be charmed by Asmo but by the Great Mammon?”

- You feel his hands on your wrists as he gently placed a kiss on your forehead.

- “C’mon, let me see your face. I want to enjoy this moment!”

- You lower your hands with a frustrated pout, face red like a cherry.

- “Aw don’t pout at-“

- You cut him off with a lip crashing kiss, leaning into him with a little more enthusiasm than you expected.

- There was a long pause after as you both stared at each other’s redden expressions of surprise.

- “You...you should...do that again.” He whispered, staring at your lips.

Levi

- You knock on Levi’s door with the final season of the newest anime craze from the human world.

- Today the two of you are bingeing the whole thing! Levi almost snatched you into the room already excited to start.

- You sit side by side with your finale survival kit. Tissues, bandaids, chocolate, blanket, Teddy Beel, and of course a Ruri-Chan plushie.

- Fast forward four hours and the chocolate is gone, the blanket is in use, and Levi had a bandaid on his hand that he slammed into the floor after a particularly hard to watch scene.

- “It’s just...so hard to say goodbye to this world.” Levi sobbed.

- “I know, my heart isn’t ready to say goodbye to Akira senpai!”

- “MC! I! Will be your Akira senpai!” Levi had turned to hold your hands together as he spoke.

- He seemed so serious but you knew he was caught up with the story.

- You smiled but couldn’t reply as he gave you a sweet and tender kiss.

- “That’s-that’s my confession...to you MC. I’m! I'm confessing to you MC!”

- You are absolutely stunned, thinking carefully a moment you return his kiss, throwing the blanket over you two to hide your blushing face.

Asmo

- You met up with Asmo to shop for a new casual outfit.

- After finding a store with lots of things you liked, Asmo asked for a fashion show.

- If a piece looked particularly good he would applaud and ask for a strut.

- After you were done changing into your street clothes Asmo is standing right outside the changing room door.

- Kabe Don, obviously still trying to enchant you even though it’s never worked.

- “You know I'd love to see you model some things for me privately.”

- You laugh, knowing how flirty he gets.

- “Well that’s too bad, I’d rather put on a show”.

- Without warning you leaned in to give him a quick peck on the lips.

- You whimsically brush pass a frozen Asmo toward the checkout counter.

- Asmo is taken completely off guard and sputters out an inaudible response.

- Determined to return the favor tenfold.

Satan

- You were in the library in Satan’s room, returning a book he leant you.

- He turned from a shelf he was scanning to greet you.

- After placing the book on a nearby table you leaned against the table while resting against it, facing Satan as he walked closer to you.

- “I’m glad you liked the book, there are a few more in that series you should try.”

- He brought over three other volumes and placed them on the table next to you. Very slightly his face grazed yours.

- He realizes how close he is to you after noticing your blush.

- “Your face is so red...what are you thinking?”

- You let out a small noise as he closes the distance between you, fitting himself between your legs as you hop to sit on the edge.

- Kisses you gently, intending to pull away until he feels you push back slightly.

- Thought he would just tease you but ends up holding your hips closer as he continues.

- Tongue gently asks for permission to enter before twirling and kneading yours.

- You’re a red, blushing mess when he’s done with you.

- “Hm hm, you’re so cute MC...”

- Goes for a few more kisses.

Beel

- You were meeting Beel at the gym to get a bite at Hell’s Kitchen.

- A game was coming up and he’s been training a lot more than usual.

- He had just finished his last set on the weight bench.

- “Give me a sec to clean up.”

- You wiped the bench down and waited for him to get out of the locker room.

- Beel had a twisted look of discomfort when he came back.

- “Ugh, my arm is sore. I might have done too much.”

- “Here, show me where.” You said while already grabbing the right bicep.

- Your fingers kneaded gently where the muscle felt tense, focusing on how firm his arm and the rest of him felt. All while standing so close together.

- Beel stayed silent until you looked up to gauge his reaction.

- Before you could ask anything he kissed you gently, lingering when you didn’t pull away.

- “That feels better, thank you”

- Maybe he didn’t think anything of it as a demon but you as a human were glued to that spot, savoring the moment.

- “C-can...I have another?”

Belphie

- You were waiting in the garden at your favorite napping spot.

- Belphie was on his way to join you but you’ve been studying a lot and couldn’t fight it anymore.

- He saw you spread out on your blanket asleep already and pouted slightly.

- “No fair, we were suppose to nap together.” He mumbled as he threw a pillow down next to you and slowly slithered himself around you.

- Loooong cuddles turned into tight hugs. Has your body always been this warm and soft? Suddenly he couldn’t get enough contact with you. He wanted more.

- You shifted slightly before turning around in his arms to face him.

- The way you smiled in your sleep was irresistible to him.

- Softly Belphie pressed his lips against yours. Trying not to wake you, he gave you several more kisses.

- After deciding he’d pushed his luck enough he pulled away, but you were already heading towards his lips with another kiss.

- You wore a sly look as his cheeks grew flush.

- Completely shocked he froze. “I couldn’t help it...I want to kiss you more too.”

Diavolo

- Was very excited to have you visit the palace. You had asked him for a gift next time he went to the human world.

- He had just arrived back and summoned you to his palace to show it off.

- You watched as he brought out a 2000 piece puzzle of kittens in a basket.

- “Humans love these right? I found so many of them and so cheap!”

- So precious, you can’t help but start the puzzle with him. He watched as you shared your strategy to make the puzzle easier.

- Diavolo listened to you intently, smiling while watching your nimble fingers dance around for the right piece. Spending time with you was more important to him anything.

- After completing a corner you noticed Diavolo had stopped putting pieces together.

- “Do you need a break?” You asked with a smile, knowing this could be overwhelming.

- Instead he lifted your fingers and gently brushed his lips against them. Your face beamed with a deep red glow.

- But the prince didn’t hesitate to take advantage of your frozen state, placing an equally soft kiss on your lips.

- “I’ll take that as repayment...”

#obey me #lucifer #mammon #leviathan #satan #asmodeus #beelzebub #belphegor #diavolo

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thesunshinebunny · 4 years

Note

Hello first ask, reaction of the vice leaders to an fem!reader dancing erotically/sexy? i really liked the ask you did with the leaders!

Of course honey! If you want to read the first one with the leaders, I'll leave it here. All characters are +18 and for obvious reasons Ortho is out of this order.

Cater/Jack/Floyd/Epel/Sebek/silver reaction

Smooooooch

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Trey

Positions – Ariana Grande

Late at night, everyone enjoying the comfort of their bed, sound asleep ... and here you were, in the middle between the lounge and the kitchen of Heartslabyul, with the music at medium volume and moving your hips as if there would not be a tomorrow.

You took advantage that everyone was peacefully asleep and snoring to practice a quiet choreography.

Well...not everyone.

Trey had gotten up for a glass of water when he found you in the middle of the kitchen, wearing only your panties and a T-shirt long enough to cover your upper thighs.

The way you moved your hips, revealing the fine dark red fabric of your panties shining comfortably against your skin, made Trey's mind take off.

“Cookin 'in the kitchen and I'm in the bedroom” That's it, Trey stopped holding back.

Before you could finish, you felt a pair of hands wrap around your waist and lift you off the floor, ending up on the counter.

You let out a gasp as lips fell on yours and your hands drew you toward your attacker's body.

“Trey ... next time give me a warning”

You gave him a light blow on the shoulder, but the man in front of you didn’t react conventionally, he grabbed your hand which was still resting on his shoulder and brought it towards his crotch, making you notice how hard he was.

“Maybe you should give me a warning before dancing that way in a public place and the way you are dressed”

Let's say… you two kept dancing for a few more minutes until Riddle showed up for a glass of milk.

You ended up scaring the little one for life.

Ruggie

Animals – Maroon 5

Ruggie was tired after a long day of work, not just from his duties but also Leona's. He entered his room with a heavy step and fell on his bed, in which you were already waiting for him cross-legged.

"Long day?"

Ruggie just nod and settle on the bed, hoping to reach your legs, lie on them, and sleep until the next day.

"I have something that might make you feel better"

You crawled out of bed and for some reason the hyena didn't know, you went to his closet and grabbed one of his dorm shirts.

You went to the bathroom, Ruggie assumed to change, and you came out with your cell phone in hand and dressed to be eaten. The shirt barely covered your upper part, revealing the curvature of your breasts, apart from posing on your thighs.

If you weren’t about to playing some music, Ruggie was willing to jump up to you and eat you right there.

It was worth the wait. When you started moving, Ruggie's first thought was how lucky he was to have you. He was enjoying your fun, seeing you happy dancing for him even if it was at the comfort of his room.

When your steps became more lewd, he couldn't help how tight his pants were. He was completely hard and with each step, his limit was about to run out.

When you were done, hips on Ruggie's, he pulled you close to his crotch, your cunt well positioned over it and pulsing for some more friction.

Fuck the sleep, Ruggie spent the whole night pounding you in every possible position until your bodies were nothing more than a bundle of heat and wet fluids. You ended up destroyed.

The Savannaclaw students wondered all night the source of the high-pitched, savage howls.

Jade

Call Out My Name – The Weeknd

It was closing time at Monstro Lounge. Tables already set, Azul closing the VIP room, Floyd closing the box and Jade cleaning a few glasses and plates from the bar.

For your, you were waiting for this moment. From time to time Azul would let you practice your choreographies on stage in exchange for a much lower monetary payment than those of Pomefiore had given you.

When the trio were distracted, each with their tasks, you ran out of the room where you were changing, put your cell phone on the speakers, and positioned yourself without hesitation on stage.

Hearing the beginning of the music, the three of them turned around to enjoy the show for a while, but they weren't prepared to see you in men's sleep shorts and one of the dorm’s shirts.

"Ara Ara ~ what a view more...appetizing"

Jade placed a chair in front of where you were dancing and gazed at you as if you were the most beautiful pearl in the entire sea.

Floyd had a wicked grin on his face and Azul was red as tomato.

The other eel was about to open his big mouth and approach where his brother was, but Azul grabbed his collar and dragged him out of the Monstro Lounge.

"I want the place clean when you finish"

The comment didn’t go unnoticed by either of you, but you didn’t care.

When you finished dancing, Jade already had his hands on your waist and his lips and teeth on yours.

Floyd was very clever and left posters outside the door and in the hallway warning of the heated scene that was about to take place.

Jamil

River – Bishop

There was a small dance competition between a few students from Scarabia and Pomefiore, including Heartslabyul, and Jamil took a break from his responsibilities to participate.

In his excitement, he told you about the competition a few hours before it happened and left you to go practice. Bad move

The last few participants had already done their best, but Jamil had taken the best steps; he was about to win. But before the winner was dictated, you showed up, dressed in gym shorts, a sports bra and one of Jamil’s sleeveless hoodie.

Everyone's jaws dropped.

Your eyes never left Jamil's unless the choreography needed a spin. Your figure was powerless in the middle of the pseudo dance floor and while your steps were exceptional, no one could move a muscle. They were mesmerized, their eyes glued to your figure...and Jamil didn't like that.

He didn't like to see how the skin on your legs was exposed. He didn't like to see your butt become the main attraction, much less when you moved it so erotically. He didn't like to see your hair move with your body and outline your face.

You ended up winning the competition unanimously. Everyone applauded your performance, some asked if you could teach them to dance so freely.

Jamil was jealous, smoke was coming out of his ears and at any moment he was going to explode.

You turned your head to where he was and gave him a wink and one of your most malicious smiles. That was the limit.

Jamil grabbed your hand and led you to the closest cleaning closet.

"If you want to put on a show, then we are going to put on one so that everyone can hear it"

No one dared walk past the closet from the first floor next to the alchemy classroom for two hours.

Rook

Horns – Bryce Foz

You were watching a dance rehearsal in the Pomefiore dance hall. Sitting in a corner without disturbing anyone, cross-legged, you watched Rook from afar and gave him little appraisals and signs of success every time he turned to see you.

When the rehearsal ended, and the students were dating one by one, you were alone with Rook. You gave him a bottle of water and a towel to dry off.

"You worked really hard, you deserve a break" and the blonde took it to heart.

He left the rehearsal room for a moment to change his clothes and then walk you to your dorm. In that little silence and tranquility, you began to walk around the room, looking at your body in the mirror and how it moved when you took a turn.

With that, an idea came to mind.

You grabbed your cell phone and put on a random song. You stood in the middle of the room, always looking into the mirror, and began to move from one side to the other, waiting for the music to hit at the right moment.

And it was at that moment that Rook entered.

Your steps left him stunned. The way you hit the ground, the way your hips moved in the air and your legs rose.

It was one of the most beautiful things he had seen in a long time.

Your figure, now standing, met Rook's. You both looked at each other through the mirror and you couldn't help but smile in embarrassment. You kept dancing even with a few sloppy steps until you stopped to look at him.

"Oh no no, don't stop for me, you dance very well"

You felt Rook's piercing gaze on your body for the remainder of the choreography and it wasn't until you were done that he moved behind you to turn you around and onto his chest.

"Ma amour, you are one of the most beautiful creatures this hunter could find"

His bare hands roamed your waist and hips, lifting your shirt slightly and savoring your burning skin with his fingers.

"Now let me hunt you down properly"

Lilia

Lights Down Low – Bei Maejor

Classes were over and you were waiting for the light music club to get together to watch them practice. Mostly to see Lilia have fun playing the guitar, then to really listen to the music… uh, yeah, we can put that aside.

The boys hadn’t arrived so you had the club room to yourself and you took the opportunity to leave your backpack and free yourself from your school uniform, leaving with a shirt and shorts.

Seeing the minutes kept passing and no one had deigned to appear, you put music on your cell phone to fill the void. Your playlist reached a song of your favorites and you couldn't help but move to the beat of it.

You made sure the room door was closed, avoiding unwanted glances, and started dancing without any worries.

You should have remembered that some students are magical creatures and can appear in the room without even knocking on the door… just Lilia’s case.

Our fairy remained face down with his happy and mocking face so characteristic and observed your way of relaxing and how you let yourself be carried away.

Lilia wasn't going to deny that he was fascinated by your steps and… by your rear guard *wink wonk*

"The club became much more interesting"

You turned around scared to hear his voice so close to your ear. The bastard had approached without making any noise.

He put his hands on your shoulders and pulled you closer to him. His lips rested on your nose, your eyes, the corner of your lips and your ears.

"Tell me ... would you mind giving me a private show in my room?"

His fang pinked the skin of your ear, sending a chill down your spine.

Before you could answer, you were already in his room, back on his bed and his toothy smile as the only sight.

#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #trey clover #trey x reader #ruggie bucchi #ruggie x reader #jade leech #jade x reader #jamil viper #jamil x reader #rook hunt #rook x reader #lilia vanrouge #lilia x reader

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donald4spiderman · 3 years

Text

Sweating, And A Lesson On Self-Worth

masterlist

Summary: Spencer finds himself falling for his NAT (new agent training) defensive tactics coach.

Pairing: SR x Fem!Reader *described as petite to give the illusion of assumed vulnerability when IRL she’s a badass— no other specific physical details are mentioned*

Category: Fluff

TW: Mentions of body image, general CM talk, mentions of fighting/grappling/wrestling, small age gap (reader is 28 & reid is 22)

concept inspired by @sierraraeck’s fic “Bad Liar” about Morgan training Spencer. I love wrestling so I wanted to do one about a badass female combat coach/agent.

REBLOG!

When Spencer and the rest of the trainees are ushered into the fitness center on their second day at the academy, he almost shits himself. He’s well aware of the physical demands being in the FBI requires, and he’s been dreading the PFT (Physical Fitness Test) since he applied.

There are hundreds of men and women huddled in the middle of the room, anticipating the orientation, and Spencer feels his palms sweat before he’s even started working out. The majority of the trainees are football players, wrestling’s, and weight lifters— he can tell by their muscular build and general atmosphere of strength and confidence.

SSA Jesse Fallon introduces their defensive tactics coach for the next twenty weeks— a petite but athletic woman. She’s dressed in a gray t-shirt and flexible khaki pants— Spencer would be lying if he said she didn’t look gorgeous, even in the bland attire.

“I’m SSA and defensive tactics coach (Y/N) (Y/L/N).” She introduces herself, giving a warm smile to the crowd. “I’ve been an SSA for five years and the head coach of this portion of the academy for two. This is my third official wave of trainees— and believe me— I won’t be going easy on any of you.”

Light laughter disperses through the crowd, and Spencer wears an uneasy look on his face.

“Today, I’ve prepped stations for each of you to cycle through for the next three hours. Agent Rivera is monitoring the weapon defense; Agent Glover is in charge of the takedowns; And I’ll be handling hand-to-hand combat and grappling. You’ll spend an hour at each station, run a mile at the end, and then you’re done for the day. Sound good?”

“Yes, Ma’am.” Choruses through the crowd.

SSA (Y/N) clasps her hands together, “Alright, you know your groups. Split up!”

Spencer’s assigned to the takedown station first. Agent Glover’s criticisms are primarily nonconstructive, and Spencer struggles with apprehending and cuffing his more robust and much more muscular partner on the floor. He’s never trained this hard for anything in his life, physically, speaking. He’s half-dead within the first hour, and he dreads having to do this two more times.

His next stop is with Agent Rivera, who’s much kinder to Spencer than his prior. Reid is better at disarming his opponent, but his long limbs flail wildly due to his incoordination— he’s trying his best, but he sees the way everyone else giggles at him. It’s a blow to the chest that leaves him defeated more than any gunshot could.

The last hour is spent working at SSA (Y/N) (Y/L/N)’s station. She commands the attention of the entire group so naturally, despite being considered a rookie, she has an intimidating amount of knowledge.

“How many of you are wrestlers or judokas?” About sixty percent of the group raises their hand, and Spencer scans around for who might have the strength to kill him with one blow.

“Good,” She smiles. “This will come naturally to you, then. Now, a head-and-arm throw most likely won’t work in the field— so, sorry, judokas. However, double legs, body locks, and blast-doubles are constantly used to take down an unsub with minimal injury to the agent. Even someone as short as me can use leverage to grapple and control a much taller person.” (Y/N) scans the crowd of trainees for a moment before pointing directly at Spencer.

“You, come here.” She commands, and Spencer waddles nervously up next to her on the mat. “This is...”

He’s confused for a moment before realizing she’s asking for his name. “S-Spencer Reid.”

“Hi, Spencer.” She smiles. “How tall are you?”

“Six foot two.”

“Spencer has the advantage of almost a whole foot of height against me. But, I can use his higher center of gravity to tip him over more easily. We do this a lot in wrestling— being low to the ground and agile is important.”

(Y/N) firmly plants her hands on Spencer’s shoulder, moving him so that he’s turned to the side. “This move is called a modified blast double— it prioritizes attacking the ankles and knees rather than the knees and abdomen.”

She leans in closer to Spencer, “Don’t post your wrist out when you fall.” She whispers in his ear, sending chills down his spine. “Keep your neck tucked too.” Her breath is warm and minty, and Spencer almost forgets that he has 30 other people watching him.

“I’m going to simulate an active attack with Spencer. Doing this move in a wrestling match is much more controlled than against a rogue criminal playing by their own rules. They might have a melee or close-range weapon like a knife or hammer on them, so it’s important to make this move when the best opportunity strikes.”

“Spencer’s going to run at me and attempt to land a punch to my face.” She gives him a nod, and he chambers over to her.

Swiftly crouching lower to the ground, she launches herself towards him, gripping the back of his ankles and pushing her shoulder into his knees, and suddenly he’s flying back onto the mat. She follows through, straddling Spencer’s hips and covering his movements with an arm under his neck.

He’s out of breath as he watches the beautiful SSA leaning above him. His head is slightly sore from the impact, but overall he feels... invigorated.

“You never let your opponent fall onto the ground without covering them. Straddling your opponent allows you to keep them down while having full use of your fists.” She swings her leg off of Spencer, standing up. She reaches a hand out and quickly yanks him up.

“Find someone and drill that move. I’m coming around to help all of you.”

She gives Spencer a firm pat on his back, to which he blushes furiously, pulling his lower lip in between his teeth.

Spencer spent the rest of the hour getting slammed onto the mat over and over by various men and women. His entire shirt is soaked, and his breathing is so labored he thinks he’s going to faint. SSA (Y/N) (Y/L/N) might have appeared at ease earlier in the day, but she wasn’t kidding when she promised she would work them to no end. Everyone was at the brink of death when they approached the last lap of their mile— Spencer at risk of passing out more than others.

The relief he feels after completing his tenth lap around the gym is euphoric. Trainees collapse onto the ground with exhaustion all around him.

“Great job today.” SSA (Y/N) compliments happily. “I appreciate all the effort you guys showed today. It better still be here in four months.” And with that, she excuses them, along with the agents monitoring each station.

Spencer’s one of the last agents to trickle out of the gym. His legs feel like jello when he walks, and his lungs burn.

He almost makes it past the threshold of the door before his name is called.

“Dr. Reid.” She beckons him over with a finger. “May I talk to you for a moment.”

Spencer nervously shuffles over. “Yes, SSA (Y/L/N)?”

“I applaud your effort at training today. I can tell you were working hard.” He blushes. “But I’ve been informed that the board is willing to wave all physical training requirements for your acceptance into the FBI.”

“Yeah... I-I uh figured they’d want me for my IQ only.” He jokes nervously, shrugging his shoulders. He knows it’s disrespectful not to look her in the eye, but she intimidates him too much.

She laughs, and it’s a sweet, joyful sound that Spencer can’t get enough of. She’s powerful and radiant— stealing attention from everyone else. “You’re charming, and your reputation precedes you.”

Charming? Since when has little Spencer Reid ever been charming? He smiles awkwardly, looking off to the side to hide his blush.

“You know, the forensics department wants their hands on the trainee with the chemistry doctorate, and the surveillance department wants the kid with eidetic memory, and word has it that you speak more than four languages, so everyone wants their fair share.”

“W-why are you telling me this?” Spencer asks, voice shy and barely above a whisper.

“Because,” she places a tender hand on his shoulder, “You need to carry yourself with more confidence, Spencer. I saw you— surrounded by all those athletes— it made you feel out of place. I get it.”

“How d-do you get it?”

“I was 23 years old when I became an SSA, surrounded by people two decades older than me. I felt like the office secretary— constantly getting pushed around by people I was afraid to upset. But the thing is, Spencer, you need to demand respect from other people. I’m not saying you need to be arrogant or be a bully, but you are one of— if not the most promising agent trainee— and you need to realize your self-worth.”

“I’m smart, I-I know that. But I’m not strong or athletic by any means.” He sighs, gripping the duffle bag slung across his shoulder tightly.

“That’s alright. You’re not going to be Kyle Dake overnight. But you can’t beat yourself up about it.” (Y/N) chuckles lightly.

Spencer thinks for a moment, “T-thank you... for uh saying all those nice things about me.”

“They're true.” She nods.

“I think I’ll continue with the defensive tactics training. I could um use it.” Its partially true, but he’s most inclined to stick around because of the kind and beautiful SSA that’ll be training him.

“Yay! That’s great, Spencer.” She cheers, wrapping him in a hug that’s a little too friendly to be professional. He accepts despite being drenched in sweat.

Her arms are wrapped tightly around Spencer, and she pats him on the back twice before pulling away like a proud mentor would. He can’t decide if (Y/N) would be a better girlfriend or a better teacher. If she would, he’d prefer for her to be both. He’d give her all he had to offer if she’d allow him.

He doesn’t recognize the smile that plays on her lips, and it’s a foreign feeling for the aggressive and focused SSA. She hasn’t felt something like this in a while, especially not for a nerdy trainee named Dr. Spencer Reid.

“Hit the showers.” She teases. “You stink.”

Spencer nods furiously, “Y-yeah, of course. Thank you, again, SSA—“

“Just call me (Y/N).”

“T-thank you, (Y/N).” He smiles, scurrying out of the gym and into the hallway as giddy as ever.

(Y/N) knows she can’t pursue this— at least, not right now. She’ll give it a few years to let him settle in the FBI (his acceptance is inevitable) if she can be patient for that long. All she knows is that eventually, she wants the awkwardly adorable boy to be hers— and she wants to be his.

i’m so proud of this fic but sry i got carried away talking about wrestling i love it sm

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #sub!spencer #criminal minds fanfiction #dr reid #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid masterlist #baby!spencer #bau

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stolen-pen-name23 · 3 years

Note

19 for the angst and h/c prompts

Hello! Thank you so much for the prompt and I'm SO SORRY it took so long!!!

(prompts now closed)

Ao3 Link

Here ya go!

---

Anakin nervously tugs on his braid as he awaits his turn to compete.

He can’t stop himself from glancing back at the door no more than he can stop himself from hoping Obi-Wan will walk through it.

He’s just late. He’ll be here.

Anakin says this to himself knowing full well that Obi-Wan is never late. Anakin begins to face the fact that Obi-Wan will not be showing up for him today.

He pulls on his braid again, a little more bitterly this time.

Obi-Wan is away on a solo mission — an important one supposedly. But this is important too. Anakin is competing in one of his first Padawan tournaments and Obi-Wan is supposed to be back by now so that he can watch. If Anakin wins the tournament, Obi-Wan is supposed to be the one to weave a brand new bead into Anakin’s braid.

It’s a big deal.

The Padawan Tournament consists of three rounds: an obstacle course, the Show of Force (pun very much intended by the Jedi Council who all thought they were so funny), and a lightsaber duel.

The obstacle course is difficult for most of the Padawans, but Anakin always breezed right through it in the many practice rounds Obi-Wan made him do.

The Show of Force, AKA, lifting various objects for various amounts of time with only the Force was a little more challenging for Anakin at first, but Obi-Wan drilled him over and over until he got it.

One time, Obi-Wan had drilled him on it for so long, his nose started bleeding and he almost passed out. Anakin remembered sensing Obi-Wan’s overwhelming guilt through their bond, but Anakin didn’t really mind. It was only a minor headache and he got a couple of milkshakes out of the deal. Not to mention, the smug feeling of satisfaction he got from Obi-Wan admitting he was wrong. Besides, he did get pretty good at using the Force in ways he never had before, despite the minor case of Force exhaustion he got out of it.

But out of all the events in the Padawan Tournament, the lightsaber duel is Anakin’s favorite part. Mostly because it meant he got to do extra lightsaber training with Obi-Wan which is his favorite thing ever. Though Anakin is excited about the duel, he can’t help but feel nervous for it.

The lightsaber duel is the main event of the Padawan Tournament. Everyone in the temple stops what they are doing to come watch it.

For months, Anakin has been practicing extra hard with Obi-Wan, but now he is worried that was not enough. Obi-Wan said he was ready, but Anakin had never even beat Obi-Wan. Anakin rarely fought against Padawans his age, so he is not sure what he is up against.

A blaring timer goes off, signaling that the Padawan before Anakin has finished his obstacle course. Anakin looks back at the door one more time. It remains closed.

Fighting back his anger and his disappointment, Anakin steels himself for the obstacle course.

“Are you ready, Padawan?” Master Windu asks quietly. Anakin can hear the faintest hint of sympathy in his voice and it makes the rage bubbling inside of him spike.

“I’m ready,” he growls.

“Alright then,” Master Windu says, stepping to the side.

A whistle blows and Anakin takes off. He soars through the obstacle course like it isn’t even there. He leaps from rope to rope and climbs over walls purposely slicked with oil.

It is nothing to him.

He gets through the obstacle course in record time, easily overtaking the other Padawans and then some. He has hardly broken a sweat by the time he gets to the Show of Force.

Anakin must lift weights onto pressure-sensitive platforms in order to release the next weight from its hold. Anakin repeats this process over and over until finally, he is at the last, and heaviest, of the weights. The final weight is small in size, but dense. It weighs roughly the same as a standard Republic-issue starfighter. Anakin splays out his hands and concentrates all of his will into the heavy object. He feels its weight in the Force and rejects it. He bends the air around it to his will and though sweat beads upon his brow and his arms tremble with exertion, he does it. The weight lifts into the air and lands gently on the final platform. No more weights are released and Anakin lets go.

He pants heavily even as the gathered crowd applauds his success. Most Padawans did not make it to the end, let alone complete the final challenge successfully. He allows himself a moment of pride and glances at the stands in search of Obi-Wan’s face, only to remember the crushing reality of his absence.

Whatever.

He doesn’t need Obi-Wan. He is winning this tournament with or without him.

Anakin marches over to the makeshift ring they set up in the gym specifically for this event. His new lightsaber is waiting for him. The power settings are adjusted to a low frequency to avoid any serious injuries, but a touch from the blade would still sting the opponent. Today, Anakin’s opponent is a Padawan who is thirteen like him, but unlike him, this Padawan is tall. He has clearly hit some sort of growth spurt that Anakin has failed to reach, and the other boy towers over him in the ring.

Anakin hides his fear behind a careful mask. He will not show this other Padawan his nerves.

The two Padawans circle each other.

“So, they put me against Skywalker,” the boy taunts. “How come you never spar with the other Padawans? Too scared to fight with anyone except your Master?”

“I’m not scared!” Anakin says. “You’re lucky I only spar with my Master.”

“Oh, and where is your Master now?” the boy asks, looking around the gym. “It’s Kenobi, isn’t it? I don’t see him around here.”

“He’s on a mission!”

“And that’s more important to him than you are? I think that says enough.”

The whistle shrieks and Anakin growls, lunging forward at the other Padawan. Anakin’s strikes are blocked with ease and with a surprising amount of power behind them.

“Center yourself.” Obi-Wan’s teachings reverberate through Anakin’s mind.

Even when he’s lightyears away, Obi-Wan still has a way of getting in Anakin’s head.

Anakin takes a deep breath and changes his strategy. He switches from offensive to defensive and lets the other Padawan tire himself.

“Your blade is an extension of your arm. Wield it.”

Anakin twists his blade around the other Padawan’s blade, confusing him and giving Anakin an opening. Anakin lunges forward and delivers what would have been a killing blow if his lightsaber was not set merely to stun.

The Padawan looks at Anakin with surprise.

“Skywalker wins the Padawan Tournament!” Master Windu’s voice carries with a subtle sort of excitement throughout the gym. Anakin lowers his blade and turns to the crowd of Jedi and Padawans, all cheering for him. He smiles hollowly. He doesn’t want them to know that he doesn’t care about any of their opinions of him. There’s only one opinion he cares about and he is not here to offer it.

Master Windu joins Anakin in the ring and escorts him to a platform.

“Not only has Padawan Skywalker won this year’s Padawan Tournament,” Master Windu announces to the crowd, “but he has also broken records for time spent on the obstacle course and weight lifted in the Show of Force. All Padawans performed very well today, but only one has earned the title of champion. For that, Anakin will receive this bead to commemorate his victory.”

Master Windu holds up a bright red bead to the crowd. He stands behind Anakin and silently undoes his braid.

This is wrong. It should be Obi-Wan, not Master Windu.

He can feel the pity from the other Padawans and Masters and he wants to squirm under their sympathetic stares. His eyes burn and he blinks rapidly while Mace weaves the bead into his hair.

This part is harder than anything else he did in the Padawan Tournament today.

“Congratulations Padawan Skywalker,” Mace says as he finishes tying up the braid. Anakin bows politely and tries to refrain from racing off of the stage.

Slowly, he mixes into the crowd until he is camouflaged enough to make his exit. He slips out of the door and into the deserted hallways.

Anakin walks dejectedly back to the quarters he shares with Obi-Wan, fighting back tears the whole way.

***

Anakin spends the remainder of his afternoon slumped rather lazily on the couch. His peers are all out celebrating the day’s events with their Masters, but Anakin sits alone. He tries watching the holo but can’t pay attention. Frustrated, he switches to his datapad and tries to play a few games. His interest is not captured. He sighs and flops backward, staring at the bare white ceiling.

The soft whooshing sound of the front door opening is the only thing that pulls him out of his current thoughts. Anakin sits up straight and watches Obi-Wan shuffle through the front door.

“You’re back,” Anakin says plainly like he doesn’t care at all.

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan says, dropping his bag heavily in the foyer. “Anakin, I’m so sorry.”

Anakin rolls his eyes and turns away from Obi-Wan.

“Anakin, Padawan, please look at me. I’m so sorry. I tried. I tried to get here in time, but the situation on Corellia got unexpectedly dicey.”

“You should have expected it. You should have planned for it,” Anakin says, still not looking at Obi-Wan.

“I know and I’m sorry.”

Somehow, these apologies did not feel as good as the time Anakin got Force exhaustion.

He doesn’t have to take this. Anakin stands up and starts to make his way to his room.

“Anakin wait,” Obi-Wan says a little breathlessly. “Ana– Anakin can we please just sit and talk about this?”

“No!” Anakin shouts angrily, whirling back around to face Obi-Wan. “I don’t want to hear what you have to say! You weren’t there for me. Why should I be there for you?”

“I understand, Padawan, but—”

“No, you don’t! You don’t understand! All of the other Padawan’s Masters were there and they didn’t even win. You were supposed to be there! You were supposed to be there for me and you weren’t . We’re a team Master and you weren’t even there.”

“Anakin, I don’t know how to make this up to you,” Obi-Wan says. If he looks a little pale, Anakin doesn’t see it through the red-hot filter of his rage.

“You can’t. It was embarrassing. Master Windu had to put my new bead in. It should have been you!”

“Anakin can we please sit down?” Obi-Wan asks, sweat beading on his forehead.

“No,” Anakin says. “I’m done talking to you.” Anakin begins walking back towards his room.

“Ana— Anakin,” Obi-Wan whispers, and this time, Anakin catches the breathlessness in Obi-Wan’s quiet plea.

“Master?” Anakin turns to see Obi-Wan’s knees buckling underneath him. His face is pale and lax as he crumples to the floor. Anakin lunges forward to catch him, but Obi-Wan is heavier and he drags Anakin to the floor with him.

They land in a pile of tangled limbs and Anakin has to put all of his strength into rolling Obi-Wan off of him and onto his back.

“‘m sorry,” Obi-Wan slurs.

“Master? Obi-Wan?” Anakin says quickly. “Obi-Wan, what’s wrong?”

Obi-Wan groans. “‘m sorry,” he murmurs again. “Sorry I wasn’t there. Shoulda been there. Shoulda found a way.”

“It’s okay,” Anakin says, his panic making him forget about his anger completely. He peels back Obi-Wan’s dark outer robe to reveal a large red stain just under his rib cage. “What happened?”

“Told you,” Obi-Wan mumbles. “Told you things got dicey on Corellia.”

“You didn’t tell me you got shot !” Anakin protests. He pulls back Obi-Wan’s tunic to reveal the skin underneath. There is a makeshift bandage affixed to the wound, but it has been bled through. The skin around the wound is red and hot to the touch. “Master, what? When did this…? Why didn’t you go straight to the healers?”

“Needed to see you,” Obi-Wan says. “I was trying to get to you the whole time, but I couldn’t.”

“Master, this is bad . How long have you been—”

“I’m sorry, Anakin,” Obi-Wan whispers, blue eyes shut behind closed lids.

“No, no, wait. Stay with me, Master. You just got here, you have to stay with me.”

If Obi-Wan hears Anakin’s pleas, he gives no indication. Anakin shakes his shoulders and receives no response.

Anakin scrambles to his feet and heads for the door. He has to go find some help. He knows everyone is out celebrating, but someone has to still be in the temple.

As Anakin opens the door he jumps back in surprise. As it turns out, someone still is at the Temple.

“Master Windu?”

“Oh, Anakin! I was hoping I would find you here. I just wanted to check in on you. You seemed a little upset after the—”

“Master Windu,” Anakin interrupts. “I need some help!”

Mace stiffens. “What’s wrong, little one?”

“It’s Obi-Wan! He just got home and he collapsed. He’s over here.”

Mace rushes in behind Anakin and kneels by Obi-Wan’s side.

“Oh, what have you gotten yourself into now, Kenobi?” Mace says more to himself than to anyone.

Mace manages to pull Obi-Wan up and throw his arm over his shoulder. He begins dragging Obi-Wan towards the door.

“Where are you taking him?”

“To the healers,” Mace says patiently.

“Is he going to be okay?” Anakin asks nervously.

“We need to get him to the healers.” It’s not the reassuring response Anakin is hoping for. Still, he follows along dutifully until they reach the healers.

The halls are busier than usual. The Padawan Tournament has always warranted a few superficial injuries and this year is no different. Masters hover around their injured Padawans and Padawans try to hide their wounded pride. At the sight of the Master of the Order dragging Obi-Wan along with a very frightened Anakin in tow, the crowds part.

“Bring him here,” Vokara Che says, calm and collected as ever.

Anakin watches Master Windu carefully lay Obi-Wan down on a gurney.

“Mace?” Obi-Wan says weakly. “Where’s ‘kin?”

“He’s here, Knight Kenobi. He’s alright. Now let Master Che take care of you.”

“An’kin?”

“I’ve got him, Knight Kenobi. Just listen to Master Che now.”

Obi-Wan lets his head fall back on the pillow and his eyes close. Anakin watches healers swarm around him and take him to a back room.

The young Master and his Apprentice are separated once more.

***

A sharp elbow to his rib cage is what wakes Anakin from his light sleep.

“Ow,” he complains.

“Anakin?” Obi-Wan murmurs. “What...?”

“Master!” Anakin exclaims, sitting up so he can turn and look at Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan rubs a hand over tired eyes before he focuses them on Anakin.

“You’re in my bed,” Obi-Wan observes.

“I was tired,” Anakin says defensively. He, of course, can’t tell Obi-Wan that he had squeezed himself into the tight medical bed because he just wanted to be as close to him as possible. He can’t tell him that he needed the physical confirmation of his chest rising and falling to know that he still breathed, still lived, even after the healers insisted he would be fine.

“Fair enough,” Obi-Wan says mildly. “Though, you could have slept in your own bed.”

Anakin remains silent and looks away.

“But I’m glad you’re here,” Obi-Wan amends.

Anakin’s chest warms and he perks up to meet his gaze.

“You didn’t have to be here. Especially after I… Well, I’ll make it up to you. I promise,” Obi-Wan continues. Anakin can feel the guilt through their bond.

“Am I sensing more milkshakes in my future?”

“Your senses have become quite attuned, my Padawan.”

Obi-Wan gives him a conspiratorial grin and Anakin giggles at him.

Anakin lays back down and rests his head in the crook of Obi-Wan’s shoulder. “I’m glad you’re here, Master,” he says softly.

“I’m glad I’m here too, Padawan.”

#prompts now closed #my writing #anakin skywalker #obi wan kenobi #thanks for the prompt!

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dat-town · 4 years

Text

bad attitude

Characters: boxer!Juyeon & You

Setting : your typical YA “bad boy” romance, inspired by his GenZ vid (and I kind of wanted to drop hints of the Ares & Aphrodite dynamic but I’m not sure I succeeded)

Summary: He looked like trouble walking on long legs. The kind of guy your parents would want you to stay away. And yet, not even the blood on his knuckles or his cold words biting like bullets can scare you away. Because Juyeon isn’t as bad as he thinks he is.

Warning: mentions of violence, implied sexual content and some guys not getting the hint to f*ck off

Words: 7k

You winced.

You weren't even the one being hit and yet, the thud of punches soared through your whole body.

You'd never liked violence, not even fighting sports like this, and gosh, you regretted letting your best friend drag you with herself. Just because she had a crush on a boxer or MMA fighter or whatever, it didn't mean you had to support all her choices and out-of-character behaviour like paying a visit to a match. But she was determined and you were a good friend, so of course, you accompanied her. You wouldn't have let her go alone to this suspicious place called Dungeon probably filled with sweaty, muscly and aggressive guys. Although in reality, it was different from what you had imagined. A lot more professional and civilized for sure. But it didn't mean you liked it. At all.

"Minjung-aaaah, how long do we have to stay here? Your guy has already beat someone," you whined because even though it felt as if you were out on a basketball match, still the witnessed violence, the blood splattered on the ground of the ring because of the gloveless fight and aggressive yelling from time to time made you feel uncomfortable in your skin.

"Until the end, silly, there's an after party we are invited to but come on, there's only one match left and I heard it's the most anticipated one," she tugged on your arm even acting cutely to convince you to stay a little more and even though you groaned, you stayed put. Oh the things you did for her, you thought but it was lovely to see her smile so bright.

"And now, the highlight of tonight... Let's applaud the current champion Leeeeee Juyeon and the challenger Kiiiiim Hongseok!" the announcer yelled into his mic and the audience roared. However, you paid more attention to the approaching, freshly-out-of-the-shower guy and kept nudging Minjung in the side, so she would notice him, too. She only did though when he arrived right next to you.

"Oh hey Sunwoo," she smiled at the redhead unconsciously playing with the banner in her hand that she had brought in support of the boy. You found her shy actions cute.

"Hey girls, I'm glad you could make it," the fighter flashed a boyish smile at Minjung. Your friend had already spent nights telling you all about how much she liked the way his eyes sparkled or the way his lips tilted when he smiled, so even though you had never met the guy before, his appearance didn't shock you at all and in all honesty you thought they would have looked nice together. Also even though they were eyeing each other very obviously they engaged you in their small talk as well, so you didn't feel like a miserable third-wheel.

"Juyeon is my friend and he is like really good," Sunwoo added when the match was about to start and he pointed at the guy wearing a white tank top and royal blue bandages around his knuckles. His ink black locks fell into his feline eyes and he really did look like a predator the way he circled around his competitor.

It was pretty high tension, everybody held their breath waiting for the first attack but it came so suddenly that you almost missed it. It was like a viper's strike: quick and deadly. The other guy stattered back, blood dripping from his mouth already. But then it got faster and more aggressive but you could tell it was the bloody faced one who started to lose his patience. There were hits and punches and you really didn't understand the pointing system no matter how Sunwoo kept narrating and explaining, but one thing you knew was that the match had come to an end of the match when the coal haired guy knocked out the other. Loud cheering erupted in the warehouse and the winner was awarded before the crowd started to dissolve. It was only then when you noticed how fast your heart hammered due to the adrenalin. You still didn't like it though.

"Imma get the guys but meet you there, girls," Sunwoo grinned at the two of you, and you have never seen Minjung so enamoured. She gushed all about him on your way to the nearby club and even when you got seated in a booth once you got yourself cocktails. She was in the middle of a self pep talk convincing herself to ask the guy out before the night ended when the guys showed up. Sunwoo, his roommate Chanhee whom you have also heard of, someone named Hyunjoon and Juyeon from the ring.

At first, you didn't recognize him. This time he wore blue jeans instead of sweattracks, a black shirt and a leather jacket over his lean biceps. One of his cheeks was puffy under his eyes and he had split lips but other than that, he looked unaffected by the fight before. That deadly glare was missing from his dark eyes as well. He merely looked a bit cold and uninterested. Even when Sunwoo took it upon himself to introduce everyone. He barely glanced in your direction, not even when your best friend found it necessary to tell everyone that you were modelling for a living beside university.

“My father told me to put my pretty face to some use,” you shrugged and you were glad when the guys moved on from the topic after a good laugh. Even though you had grown to love your job, as a model you faced quite a lot of prejudice about being nothing but a shallow beauty, so you didn't really like to talk about it.

Throughout the evening Juyeon was quiet too but you couldn't help glancing his way a few times. He let others do the talking but the way he made sure to pour less alcohol into Hyunjoon's glass who was tipsy after a can of beer made you smile to yourself behind your cocktail.

At one point Minjung and Sunwoo left to dance and Hyunjoon managed to drag Chanhee along too, so you were left alone with 'the toughest guy of all' as Sunwoo jokingly called Juyeon earlier. He didn't look that scary now though.

"Does it hurt?" you pointed at his face which seemed to surprise him, not expecting you to speak up or at least not by bringing something like that up.

"I've gotten used to it," he muttered while looking straight into your eyes, a pair of coal irises boring your yours and he just shrugged.

"So it does," you hummed not really knowing what to do with his nonchalant behaviour. You weren't used to this. Some guys became bashful once they met you, some fanned over your beauty that always made your mother happy or even if they were more collected than that, you could always tell from their eyes that they were awed by your appearance at least a bit. But Juyeon? He didn't seem to care at all.

It was a relief, to be honest to not be put under the spotlight merely due to your pretty features. Sure, you earned good money thanks to your luck for having been born this way, so you shouldn't have complained but with being pretty came the expectations and everyone treated you like a doll and truth to tell, you wanted them to not only look but see you for real as well. Maybe that was why you were certain that the fighter had more to him as well but he wasn't an easy one to crack.

You asked how he knew Sunwoo (they went to the same gym), whether he felt pressured to keep his first place (he didn't care much about ranks, he just hated to lose) or whether he had always wanted to become some sort of athlete (that was merely what he was good at) and he kept giving curt answers. Yet, he didn't seem bothered by your questions, he jugged down his beer slowly in the meantime.

“I'm getting another round,” you proclaimed, getting up with a rum-flavoured smile on your rosy lips and you walked up to the counter to order another cocktail for you and beer for Juyeon. On the dance floor, you caught the vague image of Minjung and her boy, so you smiled and someone just had to be there to misunderstand…

“Like what you see, pretty? Want to join me for a drink?” Some guy at the counter directed his slurred question at you. You politely rejected his offer, telling him that you had company waiting for you but the guy didn't seem to understand your intent. Quite the opposite. “Oh come on! Are you trying to play hard to get? Don't be like this. Let oppa pour you a drink,” he cooed and unexpectedly grabbed you on the waist pulling you closer.

“Let go of me!” you whisper-yelled at the guy since you didn't want to earn pitying glances or draw too much attention. But it seemed like he didn't understand from simple, nice words.

So you were just about to threaten him by telling him he could get kicked out of the place for such harassment when someone grabbed the guy's wrist, prying it off you. You looked up surprised to see those wicked dark eyes back while rubbing your side where that douchebag had held you.

"She told you to leave her alone. Do you have problems with your hearing?" Juyeon asked through gritted teeth and his whole aura radiated power. You were surprised that the drunken guy dared to go against him but maybe it was due to liquid courage.

"What? Are you her boyfriend or what? Fuck off, dude."

"It doesn't matter who I am, I can break your wrist nevertheless," Juyeon warned the guy but when he didn't listen, he indeed twisted his arm behind his back until he yelled for mercy.

"That's enough. Let's go," you put a hand over Juyeon's shoulder, feeling the tense muscles underneath, trying to reason that he shouldn't get into trouble. He shot you a glance, a displeased one but didn't object. He let go of the guy, who stumbled backwards.

Drinks long forgotten you let Juyeon lead you away from the crowd, a little further to the corridors and you felt strangely safe with the guy's big hand resting barely over the small of your back.

"Thank you," you whispered when you were away enough for it to be heard over the music. The guy didn't seem to expect such gratitude but he acknowledged it with a firm nod, hair falling ahead into his pitch dark eyes.

"Do you want to go home?" he asked hoarsely and you gave it a thought. You didn't want to leave Minjung alone but she seemed to have good company and while you could have pretended being alright, not shaken up at all but one scene like this brought back many memories of other accidents and you just lost your party mood.

"Uhm yeah," you murmured and let Minjung know about your decision. Sunwoo also promised that he would make sure she got home safe and sound, then you got ready to leave. When you told Juyeon that you didn't mean to ruin his night and he shouldn't worry about you, he just shrugged.

“I needed an excuse to leave anyway. Let me walk you home.”

“You don't have to. I'm not a damsel in distress,” you protested immediately because even though you appreciated his concern, you also hated nothing more than being treated as weak. Even your steps halted once the fresh night air hit you in the face outside of the club.

“And I'm not a caveman,” Juyeon retorted and gosh, if it was his way of saying that he could act like a gentleman, it was pretty funny coming from him.

“Tells someone who beats people up for a living. Pretty Neandertal if you ask me,” you raised a brow challengingly but playful and it took a moment or two, him staring at you in disbelief, blinking before his lips trembled and his surprised chuckle morphed into a smile. The first genuine smile you had seen on him and wow, it was beautiful. The way his lips curled upwards and his eyes got narrow. Unlike his overall cold behaviour, it felt warm, it made your chest feel bubbly and hot.

“Fair point,” he noted but you didn't say a word when he walked next to you on your way to the bus stop.

"Does it happen a lot?" he asked quietly at one point almost as if he wasn't sure he had the right to ask but you understood his reason. You weren't even fazed by that douche, that must have been suspicious.

"I have gotten used to it."

"So it does," Juyeon mimicked (mocked?) your earlier words about his pained cheek.

“I work in an industry where things like this happen often. Don't worry. I'm a big girl, I can take care of guys who think with their dicks,” you claimed and the guy pressed his mouth into a firm line. He seemed a bit impressed by your attitude.

The rest of the walk and the bus ride was quiet. You didn't mind though, it wasn't the uncomfortable or awkward kind. It was an understanding one. Pretty nice.

“So that's me,” you said, pointing at the apartment block in which you shared your flat with Minjung. Juyeon looked around, alert eyes taking in the surroundings before acknowledging your answer with a nod. He really wasn't talkative and standing there, in front of the gates in all black, he reminded you of stray cats, careful and reckless all the same.

“I will see you around, I guess. Don't forget to put ice on that,” you pointed at his puffy cheek and he grinned at that. Hands deep in his pockets, leather jacket loose on his shoulder, he turned around once you set your foot inside the building.

But he didn't leave your thoughts that night.

Next day, you would have expected Minjung to be sleepy and whiny like she usually was in the mornings but she was already up by the time you went out to the kitchen. It should have been suspicious but you only realized the reason behind her giddiness a bit later.

“Soooo you and Juyeon...” she singsonged while putting coffee in front of you and you couldn't hide an amused smile in disbelief. Of course, she had to bring that up.

“There's no me and Juyeon.”

“Little birds told me you talked all night and he even walked you home,” your best friend continued making it sound like a cheap American movie because of her intonations.

“Well, I hope your birdies told you that nothing happened,” you snickered playfully because honestly, you didn't want her to get the wrong idea. It was unlikely that anything would come out of it and you weren't sure you wanted that anyway. Sure, Juyeon had this aura that attracted people and you had felt your blood rush when you had locked eyes. Not to mention that yesterday was probably just him being nice without any hidden intent. Actually you would have hated it a bit if he had expected anything in exchange for his unasked courtesy. So in your books, him walking you home and then leaving just like that was actually a good point.

It was Minjung who seemed disappointed.

“A shame. He's hot,” she pouted at which you raised a brow. She laughed it off. “What? Just because I like Sunwoo, I can admit that his friend is hot.”

“You know I don't care about looks and I'm not having casual sex with a friend of your future boyfriend,” you said firmly, tone playful by the end, wanting to get back on her because of her teasing. But it seemed like she took your words seriously as she corrected you almost nonchalantly.

“Present tense.”

“What?” you blinked, hopeful.

“I mean I guess it's official. We are having a date on Sunday,” Minjung admitted with a bright smile, practically beaming and now you could understand where her sudden awakeness came from.

“Yah, and you waited this long to tell me!” You hit her on the back, demanding details while both of you minched on slightly overburnt toasts.

With Minjung and Sunwoo dating, their circles of friends hung out regularly and that meant that you met Juyeon quite often. The more you got to know him, the more you realized he was the actions over words type of guy and he never did anything halfassly. He was very competitive, you jokingly called him Neanderthal for that too but he didn't seem to mind. He merely got back at you, calling you princess whenever you complained about something and you wouldn't have admitted it out loud but even that kind of nickname sounded pleasing as it rolled off his tongue.

But the truth was, you were really different, it was obvious from the very beginning. You didn't need a very tipsy Hyunjoon to tell you that Juyeon used to be wary of you, thinking you were a brainless chick because 'who else would go for modelling'. It stinged despite knowing that he had changed his mind since.

“He has been a changed man since you talked,” Hyunjoon giggled, obviously exaggerating but you just nodded along, telling him it was time to go home.

To be honest, you weren't different either. Before meeting Sunwoo and his friends, you didn't have a too good of an opinion on those who earned money from fighting. You thought that those who did must have been aggressive muscle-heads outside of the ring as well.

But your differences weren't just about the stereotypes. From what you had gathered, Juyeon prefered action movies while you liked comedies. He always wore dark clothes while you had barely anything but light and pastel colours. He drank bitter beer while you opted for sweet cocktails. He was a night owl, you were a morning bird. His go-to coffee was black, yours was latte with whipped cream. He prefered silence, you on the other hand liked talks about nothing and everything. And even though you didn't know him too well, you used these differences to convince yourself that it wouldn't work out anyway so why bother trying. At least, according to Minjung you used these as excuses for not making a move.

It was nothing but a crush, it would go away, you told yourself but oh, you were just a butterfly drawn to the flame recklessly close.

After one of his matches, Juyeon was taking longer than usual, and the guys were pumped up over Sunwoo's glorious win, so they weren't too patient. You sent them off, promising to go after them with Juyeon because you didn't mind staying behind even if it meant missing out on the first few rounds of alcohol. But since Juyeon gave no sign of himself, you made your way backstage with the pass you got from Hyunjoon to check on him. Knocking on the changing room door, you could hear him grumbling something, probably thinking his visitor was one of the guys.

“It's me,” you mumbled as you opened the door but the sight that welcomed you made you freeze on the spot. The floor was scattered with green glass pieces, remnants of a soju bottle and there was blood too, carmine dots colouring the white tiles.

“What the he- What happened?” you looked around, shocked after you closed the door behind you. The place looked like there was a scrummage over there.

“Someone's a sore loser,” Juyeon muttered, anger dripping from his words while he held his hand under running water over the sink in the corner. The way he gritted his teeth you could easily tell that he was in pain. His blood coming from his lower arm and back of the hand painted the water pink, so you could understand why. You decided to pay more attention to that, rather than the asshole who attacked him off-ring.

“Do you have a first aid kit? I'll help,” you offered because bandaging his hurt hand with the other wouldn't have been easy, not even for someone who seemed experienced in taking care of his own injuries.

Juyeon looked suspicious though, at least at first, not getting how you would know anything about treating wounds.

“I have a licence, duh,” you rolled your eyes. You had been trained for emergency situations on the road, so a few cuts should have been okay. So when Juyeon sighed, you took it as a sign of agreement, so you gestured him to sit on the bench and after you got the first aid kit ready, you sat next to him.

As you took his hand in yours, you felt his rough knuckles and fingertips against your soft skin and neither that, nor his breathing against your ear didn't help you to focus. But somehow you still managed to do it, smoothing bandages over the wounds gently after you cleaned them and covered them with antiseptic. Luckily they weren't too deep but since it wasn't a simple papercut you were sure they would heal slower and wouldn't go away without a trace.

“Done,” you announced with a smile on your face and pride in your voice, soothing a thumb over Juyeon’s wrist mindlessly as if you were trying to ease his tensed nerves. “It's going to leave an ugly scar though.”

“I'm not pretty anyway, so it doesn't matter,” the boxer muttered, probably used to having scars all over and you had this urge to tell him that even with purple and green bruises blooming all over him like flowers you would have found him beautiful.

Only when you looked up, searching for his night-like eyes on you, you noticed how close you really were. Sitting side-by-side, knees barely but touching, you could see his facial expressions better than ever before and it would have been so easy to lean in and just… You weren't sure what but a moment was enough for you to feel overwhelmed under his intense stare.

It really wasn't that he was hot with his wide shoulders, strong arms, hands so big or with those feline eyes holding black holes and lips thin but attractive. What drew you in was the burning passion in his eyes, the way he looked when he was focused and that he seemingly didn't give a fuck about what others thought of him.

And now he was looking at your with unadulterated want and curiosity in his wild eyes and it shook you to the core.

“Isn't this the part you should tell me that I should see the other guy?” you whispered, playfully, not being able to get out what you really wanted to say about him being pretty no matter what he thought.

“You wouldn't like what you saw,” Juyeon said dryly with a twitch in the corner of his mouth. So the other guy did look worse, you concluded, and his answer reminded you how well he knew you already. And it was the answer to all your questions. So you just nodded, not asking more, not wanting to know what he had done. You gulped and turned your head away, ready to leave. Only if your legs didn't feel so heavy.

“The others must be getting worried, we shou-”

“I bet they aren't,” Juyeon interrupted you but let you pull your hand away, to fumble with the first aid kit, putting it away. “They know you are with me.”

He was right, of course they knew. They also knew that you were safe with him. So what were you afraid of? Not rejection, for sure. You knew both of you felt this kind of tingling tension between you. Then what? You weren't sure but you didn't want to be a coward anymore.

“Walk me home?” you asked, quiet and casual, no pressure but Juyeon just hummed as if it was natural. It was kind of déjavu except not really because when you reached your apartment complex, you didn't bid goodbye reminding him to change the bandage in the morning.

“Want to come upstairs? I have beer to make up for the loss of alcohol from tonight's missed party,” you offered instead and the suggestion was heavy in the air. Juyeon knew just as well that Minjung was out with the others and wouldn't make it back soon.

“Sure,” he muttered and followed you to the elevator. The tension was almost tangible by the time the flat's door closed shut behind you.

“So, this is us. Make yourself at home, I’ll bring the be-” you chattered after kicking off your high heels but on your way to the kitchen you were stopped by calloused fingers on your wrist. His touch was sudden but not rough at all and you felt electricity run through your veins because of this simple action.

“Where is this going? What do you really want, princess?” Juyeon asked, quietly, but each of his words echoed loudly in your head. And there it was, that nickname again, except this time it wasn't playful.

You turned back to him, locking eyes, finding that dark pair on you immediately. You could have told him many things, that you just wished to talk, that maybe you could watch a movie, but then in that very moment there was just one thing you really wanted.

“You,” you blurted out, not caring about the consequences, heart beating so loud you were afraid he would hear. But maybe he knew anyway with the way he kept holding on your arm, long fingers padding over your vein. At your answer, there was a flash of… something - maybe the crumble of his resolution or a spark of desire - in his eyes before he yanked you closer to him and crashed his mouth to yours.

His lips were a bit chapped and they moved feverishly against yours. He wasn't too gentle, didn't treat you like you were made of porcelain but you didn't even need or want that. It was just perfect. You ran your tongue along the wound on his lower lip and felt a rush of power and adrenaline at the way he grunted. Maybe you started to understand why he liked those things so much.

And you fell into that hole you swore you wouldn't: that night you mapped out his body, a history of past scars, lips following the marks while Juyeon left his own trace on you murmuring sweet names into your skin and kissed you like he could never get enough of you.

But of course, he could and you made it even easier as you pretended to be asleep when he walked out.

Next morning, your best friend came out of her room while you were in the middle of oversweetening your coffee to the point you would get sick of it. She seemed awfully cheerful but you just couldn't pretend that you felt the same after those haunting thoughts that didn't let you sleep almost all night. You could still smell the antiseptic mixed with sandalwood scent on your sheets.

“So you and Juyeon didn't join us yesterday,” Minjung singsonged but her knowing smile fell as soon as she saw your expression. “Oh sweetie, what happened?”

“Nothing new. I was just stupid,” you sighed but it didn't take long for the lavina inside you to burst out. “It's not like either of us promised anything. And the sex was so good, it's just… he left without saying anything or leaving a note. Gosh, I should have known better.”

You had been emotionally involved from the very beginning and you weren't sure you could look him in the eye at the next friends gathering, so you were thinking of bailing out but in the end, with the encouragement of Minjung, you decided you weren't just some chick who would cry because of boys. So you went out accepting the drinks Chanhee generously brought all of you. You tried to avoid eye contact with Juyeon though, dancing with strangers but when you did catch his eyes on you, it made your insides boil.

“It's not polite to stare,” you told him when you got back to your table and he raised a brow at that, the smallest of smiles hiding in the corner of his mouth.

“What did you expect from a Neanderthal?”

At his joke, a chuckle threatened to leave your throat, lungs suddenly feeling light. You could do this, you thought, relaxed. So you talked: you asked about his wound, his next match, told him about your upcoming photoshoot and that one class in college that stressed you out. It was nice, so nice you felt your head spinning in his closeness and by the end of the night you found yourself pinned to the wall of a hidden corridor, lips bitten red by his eager kisses.

The thing was that it didn't happen only once. It seemed like you two were addicted to each other, hooked on the other's taste. You knew you should have stopped before getting hurt, before getting your heart broken, yet you couldn't because having him one way was still better than not having him at all.

Minjung got worried over time, asking whether you knew what you were doing and you were pretty sure Sunwoo knew about the situation, too. Otherwise his 'keeping you company while Minjung gets dressed' topic would have been utterly out of blue at the kitchen counter in your apartment.

“Juyeon… he isn't as confident as he seems. And he is pretty bad at talking about feelings stuff,” he blurted out while you were trying not to cry while cutting onions. The knife stopped in your hand, the prickling behind your eyes didn't.

“Uhm, sure.”

“Just in case you were wondering,” he shrugged and luckily dropped the topic soon, so you could go back to cooking. However, Sunwoo's wordless advice stuck with you, nudging you, knowing that you had to be the one who brings emotions. You thought that with time you would be more ready to do that but it was far from true.

It was the first time you went to the Dungeon alone. Minjung came down with something, so she was pretty much bedridden and no matter how much you insisted on staying home with her, making soup or something, she convinced you to cheer the boys on at their matches. So you were there, in the audience, alone, feeling a bit awkward and the same adrenaline mixed with awe and fear while you were watching Juyeon fight a guy taller and broader than him. He might have been the champion and you knew he was good but still, you got worried from time to time. Your heart still beat overtime when his hand was raised above his head.

You clapped proudly but this time you weren't planning on joining the afterparty, you only wanted to say hi to the guys and then leave to get some extra medicine for your best friend. However, before you could have left the warehouse, someone whom you would have never thought to see there came to your vision halfway to the exit.

“Wow, fancy seeing you here! I didn't know you like this kind of stuff,” the lanky figured guy grinned down at you and you gulped, trying to be polite about it. He was a photographer you once worked with and he was creepy as hell back then too, touching inappropriately and texting you until you blocked him not getting the sign to just stop.

“I came with friends,” you told him a half-lie and tried to pass him by with an apologizing smile but before you could have moved away from him, he grabbed your wrist, mouth pulled into a supposedly-charming smirk.

“What about getting a drink?”

“Let me go,” you attempted to pull your hand away but his grip only got firmer. Rough enough to make you wince.

“Come on, don't be like this. Or do you think you are too good for me just because you are pretty?” he spat and that was when you tossed him in the chest with your free hand even though you believed violence was never the answer. Using his loosened grip to your advantage and yanking your arm away, rubbing the bruise, you turned on your heels and started walking out in faster speed, taking out your phone just in case you had to call someone. But you weren't quick enough because the photographer guy caught up to you, calling you out on running away, calling you names you hated.

“Take your filthy hands off her,” a familiar voice snapped and you felt the photographer yanked away from you while yelling at the intruder:

“Who the fuck you think you are?”

“Someone to beat you to pulp if you keep treating her like a freaking doll,” Juyeon hissed at him, pushing him roughly to the wall of the corridor. Recognizing him the guy suddenly seemed to understand what no meant but the fear in his eyes didn't satisfy the boxer. It felt like déjavu: him coming to your rescue, his threat, the wickedness in his feline eyes, your urge to stop him before things would have gotten out of hand. “I will break your fingers if you touch her again.”

“Juyeon, stop. He isn't worth it,” you tried to pull him away by the arm but he shrugged your hand off, flashing you a glance that could have been only described as dangerous. You stumbled backwards momentarily frightened and seeing that, Juyeon's eyes immediately softened, hand loosening around the photographer's collar. He looked apologetic as he held his hand out for you with his palm up and for a moment, air got stuck in your lungs. You took his hand without thinking and let him lead you out of the place.

You asked no questions, made no protests, just enjoyed his warm palm against yours. It was new, it was butterflies in your stomach-worthy.

“My place is closer,” he said seemingly out of nowhere as if it was that simple but it wasn’t anything but that. It had been months since you knew him, since you started this something but you had never been at his place before.

“Okay,” you mumbled anyway.

He was right, he lived much closer than you, within walking distance and even though his place was smaller and quite messier than yours, you liked how cozy it was. He told you that his roommates would be back only later and brought you water to drink but you only tapped your fingers over the glass.

To be honest, you didn't know where the two of you stood, and how to approach the new situation. You never talked about it and it was light and casual, playful while slowly getting to know each other out in the open but on the other hand, behind closed doors it was way more intimate than being simple friends. And things were even more fragile now having the same friends because what if you brought up dating and then he felt uncomfortable around you? Losing him and making it harder for your best friend was both something you feared.

"You're thinking too hard," Juyeon commented and you gulped.

You weren't surprised he noticed. You weren't exactly subtle but then again how he couldn't notice you slowly falling for him then? The way your eyes lingered? The way your touches were loving and gentle? The way you just couldn't get enough.

“Juyeon… What are we exactly?” you blurted out the question from the top of your mind and he sighed as if he knew what was coming but now that this question was out, you had nothing more to lose, no more of your pride.

“Good girls like you falling for bad boys like me only happen in cheesy books and movies. We both know it wouldn't work out," Juyeon told you, resigned and so sure of himself that it made your throat close up. He didn't even try to play the oblivious, he was so straightforward that it almost heart, ripping your heart out of your chest. But it wasn't an answer, it was a 'what you were not'.

“What the hell are you talking about? You are not a bad guy,” you objected right away because despite his borderline illegal job he was a good guy, loyal to his friends. But it seemed like his definition of bad was different.

“Then why did you flinch before? Do you think I could ever hit you, hurt you physically?” he asked and he was the one who looked hurt. You frantically shook your head trying to tell him that you were taken aback by the sheer anger that enveloped him in that moment but you weren't afraid of him. But Juyeon seemed unable to listen. “You know what? Doesn't matter because I don't fit into your perfect life anyway. Why would a pretty princess want an uneducated Neanderthal like me?”

You hissed, not liking the way he used your nicknames in such context and it made you desperate.

“Because I like you!”

Your voice echoed from the empty voice, it rang into your ears and there were the two of you, standing face to face, silent for a long minute.

"I don't think you like me. You like what I stand for: excitement, adrenalin, a bit of rule breaking. You will end up with a nice guy, princess, like you should," Juyeon sighed and him telling you what you should have done made you so mad.

"Don't try to tell me what I feel!" You raised your voice, something you rarely even did and the fighter looked shocked through, eyes wide, running a hand through his inky strands.

“I don't want to hurt you and hurting people is the only thing I'm good at,” he told you and if the conversation wasn't so hurtful, you would have laughed at such a ridiculous claim.

“Bullshit. You care about your friends, you pay attention, you work hard, you are passionate and now, now you are telling me to find a nicer guy. Instead of breaking my heart to pieces by saying you don't think of me that way, that it was just sex for you, you say none of those things. Why?” you raised a brow at him, provocative, hanging on those last threads of hope and the boy stared back at you as if he was in the ring, ready to fight but unready at the same time. He was obviously torn and frustrated, knuckles turning white.

“Because it wouldn't be true,” he said almost as if he was giving up, letting the last of his walls fall and you needed a moment, heart hammering against your ribcage so loudly, to process this and what it meant. And when you finally understood, a chuckle rolled off your tongue in disbelief. You couldn’t believe that you were not just a coward but blind to see that what you two had wasn’t just being friends with something extra to him either.

You had never seen Juyeon so confused than in that moment, when in that heated moment of the fight you started laughing out loud, smile beaming and directed at him from the relief you felt.

“Good,” you hummed, acknowledging his answer. “Then stop acting so selfless. It doesn’t look good on you and anyway, Neanderthals used to fight for women, not let them go,” you tsked playfully and the guy couldn’t help a snort-like laughter either.

“You’re unbelievable,” he huffed out quite impressed and you couldn’t stop smiling. Not even when he added: “Please tell me you don’t wanna do cheesy shit Sunwoo and your friend do.”

“You mean the couple accessories and celebrating their 100th days together?” you raised a brow and just by the fact that it was his biggest worry now, you knew that you won. You pursued your lips, jokingly pondering on the possibilities. “Gosh, no… But I wouldn’t say no to cuddles tonight.”

“Oh so you wouldn’t say no...” Juyeon cracked a smile, dark cat-like eyes sparkling mischievously while a brow shot up to the middle of his forehead and hummed, excitement building up in your veins as he cornered you to the furniture behind you. “What else you wouldn’t say no to, princess?” he tilted his head and instead of giving him an answer verbally, you grabbed the collar of his tee and pulled him down for a searing kiss.

And cheesy or not, at his next match, you showed up with a banner, too. Get them, Neanderthal!

#the boyz #the boyz scenarios #the boyz imagines #juyeon scenarios #juyeon imagines #stories

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thebibliomancer · 4 years

Text

Essential Avengers: Avengers #228: TRIAL and ERROR!

February, 1983

AT LAST! The trial of Yellowjacket!

Its been over a month in-universe and about a year out of universe but here we are. The Trial of Hank Pym.

Although the time getting here was mostly farting around with other stuff while Hank sat in prison. Can you believe Scott Lang is the only person we see visit him?

The Avengers found time to experiment on an immortal child who thought jumping into the sun was a good idea but not to visit Hank?

I’m not saying that Jan should have had to put herself through that and Tony is clearly feeling too guilty over the whole thing. But Cap didn’t visit? Hawkeye didn’t? Mr. Lets Bust Hank Out?

Possibly they did off-screen. The Hank arc has been kind of suffering from Shooter’s inability to balance writing and EICing. I feel that if redone, there would be more to the arc.

Anyway, the trial!

We skipped the first two days. Its the third day of the trial now.

The graphic guy went above and beyond for that Sad Composited Hank graphic.

I like the AN AVENGER’S DARKEST HOUR thing.

I also like the setup for recapping the necessary details.

Ex-Avenger attempts to heist the government would be big news so all the information is conveyed as this news report.

INCLUDING COURTROOM SKETCHES

God, that’s good.

That’s good comicing. Amazing.

Look at Thor in a courtroom sketch. Superb.

Look at that cheesy graphic for the coverage. Does anybody in Marvel even use a domino mask?? Everything about this is amazing.

People may say that Frank Miller revolutionized using media talking heads for social commentary in his comics. Maybe. Maybe so. But how many courtroom sketches did he include? Huh?

So apparently the reason why we’re on day three of the trial is that days one and two were entirely debates over whether Hank was even fit to stand trial.

I’d’ve thought they would get that out of the way ahead of time.

And Hank wants his day in court. So who was arguing he wasn’t fit to stand trial? The prosecution?

Apparently, the prosecution tried to argue that Hank’s history as a hero made his crimes more heinous, as a legal argument.

Which, uh? Um? Uh?

The defense objected that this was prejudicial but they were overruled.

The news recap ends when She-Hulk turns off the television angrily for reminding her of her legal career.

She-Hulk: “Leeches! I haven’t met Henry Pym, but he can’t be the creep they’re making him out to be! And that prosecutor -- ! I know it’s his job, but do they all have to be sanctimonious?! I hated that when I was a practicing attorney, and I don’t hate it any less since I’ve become She-Hulk!”

Reminds me that her nemesis in her original Savage She-Hulk book was an Assistant DA called Buck Bukowski who was a real sexist douche.

He mellowed out over the course of the book, mostly by learning that a death he blamed She-Hulk for was sorta his fault, but I wonder if she left LA so she wouldn’t be tempted to throw him out to sea.

She-Hulk is also still super bored (in New York??) and wanders downstairs to see if anyone is up to anything interesting.

Downstairs in the gym, she finds that the Caps are training.

The Captains America and Marvel.

Cap(tain America) is doing some combat training with Captain Monica Marvel.

This will not be at all confusing to have them on the same team.

Anyway, this training sequence is amazing so lets just have it all:

Cool stuff, Caps.

The training has to be cut short because Cap(tain America) has a prior commitment but still good stuff.

She-Hulk applauds Captain Marvel’s showing but Marvel waves it off as thanks to Cap(tain America)’s training. Which Cap(tain America) waves off as thanks to her being a quick study.

Its like a self-perpetuating modesty loop in here.

Cap excuses himself to go to his prior engagement.

Captain Marvel: “It’s easy to see why he’s called a living legend! He’s very good! And his grasp of strategy is second to none!”

She-Hulk: “Yeah, he does pretty well for a guy with no powers, but I could take him!”

What a this era of She-Hulk thing to say, She-Hulk.

Captain Marvel tells She-Hulk hey maybe not! Cap has stood up to some pretty tough customers, including Jen’s cousin the Hulk.

Which She-Hulk didn’t know!

Y’know, after Bruce (or recently implied to be Joe Fixit Actually??) started Jen’s origin story, the Hulk has not much further relevance in the Savage She-Hulk book. Jen doesn’t even give any indication that she’s keeping up with his exploits.

Not surprising, since the book was trying to be its own thing. And Jen’s life just starts to implode not very far into her solo so she doesn’t have time to also worry about Bruce.

Captain Marvel mentions that all of Cap(tain America)’s run-ins with the Hulk are recorded in the Avengers computer archives and She-Hulk concedes she should give that a look.

Hey, she finally has something to do in New York!

Captain Marvel also tells She-Hulk that she’s going to head home.

She-Hulk: “You have a place in the city?”

Captain Marvel: “Not this city... New Orleans.”

She-Hulk: “NEW ORLEANS?!?”

Captain Marvel: “Sure! It’s a snap to commute -- when you can travel at the speed of light! Take care!”

And then she nyooms off!

NYOOM!

It’s a good point! I hadn’t considered it but yeah, Monica can just commute. No need to uproot her life to become an Avenger.

I guess that’s why the decision was so easy for her to make.

She-Hulk is still at the window, wishing she could lightspeed to Malibu, when Thor and Janet arrive from court.

Janet thanks Thor for coming to court with her. Which he says no big to because “Time given to one’s friends is well spent. Would that I had given more time to poor Henry before this.”

You’re a cool guy, Thor.

The mention of Hank has Jan break down a little.

Jan: “Oh, Thor! Why has this happened to us... to all of us? We’re Avengers!”

Thor: “But still we are human -- aye, even a ‘god’ such as I! None of us are immune to wounds of the spirit. We err... we misunderstand. Janet? Is there anything more I can do?”

Jan: “No! No... I’m all right! We mustn’t dwell on the past. The future’s all that matters!”

Thor: “But...”

Jan: “I don’t want to talk about it anymore!”

Geez.

We’ve seen how affected the Avengers have been by what Hank has done and what they think he has done. We’ve seen Jan is more messed up by it than the smile she puts on lets on.

But the plaintive questioning of how this could be happening to the Avengers still hits hard.

Thor respects Jan’s wish to end the discussion to the frustration of She-Hulk who has been watching this conversation from the upstairs window.

She’s frustrated that Jan won’t just let it out, that Thor just let the subject drop.

She-Hulk: “It’s that blasted Avengers’ tradition of ‘respecting the privacy of members’ personal affairs.’ The founding members carry it too far! Can’t they see how it hurts them? And Jan -- ? Why does she hold in all that grief and heartache? Why doesn’t she cry and scream and shout and get it out of her system?!”

Jen and Jan are two very different people!

But She-Hulk, and Hulks generally, are about letting your feelings out. And Jan van Wasp has long been about playing the flighty sprite.

I’d crack joke about She-Hulk being this invested in the drama of the Avengers already but Jan is her friend. They presumably went car shopping together.

And She-Hulk has very few friends and almost zero female friends. Her one female friend died in a convoluted car accident and then She-Hulk mostly had a male supporting cast. Thank goodness she’s here on the Avengers with its two whole other women.

Meanwhile, at Stark International, Cap(tain America) has come to pay a visit.

He hasn’t been able to reach Tony in days. And Tony’s secretary told him that Tony has locked himself away in his private lab and that he doesn’t want to see anyone.

But if he didn’t want to see anyone, he should have thought twice about making it so that the security system will let in any Cap that flashes an Avengers ID.

Cap is particularly worried because of that nasty argument they had about Tony dating Jan. Tony has been pretty down since they broke up and Cap doesn’t want to see him fall apart like Hank did.

And.

Tony is. Doing. Maybe not okay.

He’s sweating a lot and unshaven and monomaniacally focused on a project.

Cap finds him holding up an enormous piece of machinery and doing SCIENCE.

This is the final evolution of Tony’s guilty conscience regarding Hank Pym.

Iron Man: “Remember how Moondragon used her mental powers to mess with our heads? Well, it’s my theory that she’s responsible for Hank’s recent troubles! I aim to prove that with this cerebral scanner! This baby should tell us whether or not Hank did the crazy things he did because of some outside mental influence! I hope I’m right!”

I mean, he raises a fair point! I don’t think its the case because what would it have benefited Moondragon to make Hank do what he did? And if its an inadvertent thing, she mind controlled a lot of people when the roster change-up was happening back in #211 so why did only Hank get affected? Plus, it doesn’t really match up with what both Hank and Jan have been saying about his behavior deteriorating before then.

But, Tony is going to Tony. And he, like many fans and writers and editors, just want a simple nonsense explanation that can make a distressing thing go away.

Cap points out that the ginormous machine can’t exactly be dragged down to the courthouse but this is just the prototype. Tony is going to have a miniaturized version ready by Monday.

Cap: “I see. Tony, how long have you been up?”

Iron Man: “I don’t know... 30... 40 hours, maybe. What difference does it make?”

Cap: “It makes plenty! You’ve had some rough sledding lately... You can’t keep on driving yourself this way!”

Iron Man: “But I have to do something for Hank. I feel that I let him down... In so many ways.”

Cap: “You can’t help him if you kill yourself in the process!”

Tony is going to Tony. I think that in some ways he might have a more overdeveloped guilt complex than Peter Parker or Matt Murdock.

For Reasons, I’ve taken a look at how things are going in the Iron Man book around this time and oof. Poor Tony.

Over in Leonia, New Jersey, Vision and Scarlet Witch are watching the trial coverage on the news and-

Okay.

1.) How do you make watching the network news so moody and dramatic, Vision? Do you ever actually relax?

2.) Do you two just wear your costumes around the house? Surely you must have other clothes? Vision? Do you have other clothes?

Some other stuff is that Wanda has been holding up Jan and Hank as the ideal marriage so this whole thing has been weirding her out. Although Vision has had a less rosy opinion of it, having been there for it with all of the marrying the split personality nonsense involved.

Although I don’t know why issue #68 is referenced. I don’t think that had anything to do with anything. Issue #60 is where the wedding happened.

Bet whoever put that caption wishes they had access to the internet.

I kind of wish we got more stuff like earlier, got to see Avengers not currently on the team and other heroes that worked with Hank Pym reacting to his disgrace exit from the team and then arrest. Wish we could have had Vision and Wanda try to visit him in jail.

Meanwhile, Long Island Sound.

A LOCATION OF EVIL

A suited man arrives and knocks on 13308 McKinley.

He is Dr. Chen Lu and he is expected.

Moonstone/Dr. Karla Sofen meets Dr. Chen Lu at the door and shows him in to the secret science basement where Egghead is running an experiment with the latest scientific equipment that can be begged, borrowed, or stolen.

I’m figuring... mostly stolen? Right? Like Egghead’s plan was to steal all the resources he needed? Because, ugh Effort?

Moonstone interrupts Egghead to let him know Dr. Chen Lu has arrived and Egghead is thrilled! He rushes from his seat to shake his hand.

And the sentiment is returned by Dr. Chen Lu who is eager to join Egghead’s project.

Y’know, Egghead is a jerk and is stealing all of his resources but his project will hugely improve medical science and he’s getting criminal scientists off the street and into some actual science jobs they can be excited about.

Dr. Chen asks how Egghead isn’t dead because he was pretty sure he was told Egghead was dead. And Egghead sure has a tale to tell!

In Defender #43, Egghead set up Cobalt Man to reach critical mass and explode to distract the Defenders so he could steal a magical star. When Cobalt Man found out, he was pretty pissed and decided to blow up Egghead.

Egghead: “We had a bit of a falling out, you might say... and he ended the situation most dramatically. Witnesses actually assumed we’d both perished. In actuality, I had been teleported by an experimental mechanism to relative safety in the New Jersey swamps... and unlike death, one can usually return from the state of New Jersey!”

Damn, Egghead! Criminal genius that you are, you’ve found the only New Jersey joke I’ve ever laughed at! Fiend!

I think its the glasses adjusting what does it.

Anyway, Egghead’s and Dr. Chen’s cool conversation gets interrupted by Tiger Shark and Shocker bursting through the ceiling fighting.

Beetle flies in after them and apologizes for the mess but says ‘really Shocker had it coming, man, fuck Shocker.’

Beetle and Moonstone jump in to separate the two.

Hey, you might be wondering how the Masters of Evil are out of jail when last time we saw them was getting arrested after attacking the Avengers like dumbasses?

Check that panel where Iron Man is lifting a really heavy thing. There’s a news broadcast about a bunch of prison escapes. Good job on the same issue setup, Stern!

Shocker complains that Tiger Shark called him a two-bit hood but Tiger Shark says in his defense that Shocker IS a two-bit hood (Not inaccurate...) who nearly screwed up the isotope heist. But Egghead says that Shocker is an important part of the operation.

Then Tiger Shark notices Dr. Chen Lu and says a slur.

C’mon, guy. Don’t be like that.

Dr. Chen Lu: “Speaking without thinking seems to be second nature to you, Tiger Shark. In the interest of our future partnership, I shall excuse the insult to my race... this time! But I warn you, do not use that word in my presence again, or you shall answer to -- THE RADIOACTIVE MAN!”

Tiger Shark hurriedly says that obviously he didn’t mean to offend. Because Dr. Chen Lu Radioactive Man fwooshed into his green skin (dammit comics whats with you and Asian people and green skin?) radioactive form and costume.

But with Radioactive Man on the team, the Masters of Evil are finally complete and ready for the next step of EGGHEAD’S BOLD PLAN.

Meanwhile, Hawkeye returns to his apartment from his day job, kind of looking a steady paycheck in the mouth. Sure the big wad of bucks is nice but its sooo boring. Thank goodness he has Avengersing to keep things exciting.

He then sings a short bit about “Best of both worlds -- !” because Hawkeye.

Hawkeye sees the news broadcast about the Hank Pym trial and even though he hasn’t been called to testify (because he wasn’t part of the team when Hank was caught with his hands in the government’s cookie jar) he figures what the heck, he’ll go to the trial anyway to show moral support.

And he does! In full costume!

In fairness, so are Thor and Captain America.

I guess Captain America and Hawkeye don’t have publicly revealed identities. But they couldn’t have thrown a suit on Thor?

Please put Thor in a suit. For reasons.

She-Hulk and Wasp are wearing nice court clothes.

Although She-Hulk seems uncomfortable in her nice court clothes.

(By the by, She-Hulk showing up at all makes Hawkeye warm up to her a little, since he figures that in her own way she cares about being an Avenger as much as he does.)

By the way, notice who wasn’t in that picture? Hawkeye leans over to whisper to Cap where is Iron Man? Annnnd Cap thinks maybe he just got wrapped up in his cerebral scanner project.

At this point in the trial (day 4), Hank has finally been called up to the stand to testify on his own behalf.

So, of course, given Hank Pym’s luck, the courtroom explodes.

What a dynamite conclusion to this arc!

The Masters of Evil (Moonstone, Radioactive Man, Tiger Shark, Shocker, and Beetle) jump into the court through the exploded ceiling, grab Hank Pym, have Shocker blow up the load bearing wall, and then run out while the Avengers are distracted holding up the entire ceiling!

An action scene fast enough that I can believe, yes, the Avengers didn’t have time to react to it before it happened.

But Thor is strong enough to hold up the ceiling, so Wasp orders Cap to get the crowd to safety and has She-Hulk and Hawkeye follow her to go after the Masters.

Cap: “Jan’s really coming into her own as group leader! Even Hawkeye’s snapping to at her orders!”

Good. I’m glad that people keep telling me that Wasp is doing a good job as Avengers leader.

Seriously. Given the way that the Avengers book handles teamwork and the idea that the Avengers even have a leader sometimes, I’m glad that the book is explicitly conveying that Wasp is doing good.

Hawkeye net-arrows Tiger Shark, She-Hulk tackles Radioactive Man, Wasp confronts Beetle, and nobody confronts Shocker because its just Shocker.

Beetle scoffs at Wasp trying to stop him but has to eat his words pretty soon. Her Wasp stings being souped up in this recent stretch of comics hasn’t stopped being a thing.

Beetle: “Ow! Maybe I was the one who spoke too soon! Even with my armor, I can feel a little of the Wasp’s bio-stings! If I can’t shake her, she might blow my micro-circuits!”

Very glad that Wasp continues to be an effective fighter in her own right and not just the distraction ‘fly around and pester people.’

She-Hulk just throws Radioactive Man out of the panel, mocking him for being green as her without any of her sweet moves.

Tiger Shark wants another go at She-Hulk after the way she stomped him in #222 but.

Oops guess I shouldn’t have mocked Shocker. Since he was ignored, he can sneak up behind She-Hulk and use HIGH INTENSITY VIBRO-SHOCKS to rattle her bones to dust.

Except, no. I should have mocked Shocker, a little.

Because even though the HIGH INTENSITY VIBRO-SHOCK rattles She-Hulk so that she chatters out “T-t-think a-a-again, y-y-you w-w-walking q-q-quilt!”, she grabs Shocker’s hands and holds him up in the air for Hawkeye to short out Shocker’s gauntlets with a couple of magno-volt arrows.

Shocker crumples, confused because one of the other Masters was supposed to be covering Hawkeye.

Radioactive Man tackles She-Hulk so She-Hulk just belts him away.

So Radioactive Man concedes, well, okay, She-Hulk is stronger than him. But brute force and being green aren’t the extent of his powers. He’s also radioactive, radioactive.

He hits She-Hulk with a controlled burst of gamma rays, which shifts her back into Jennifer Walters.

Hey, Jen! First time you’ve appeared in this book in this form.

She’s less than pleased. In fact, she starts screaming “No! Not this!!” and begging someone to help her.

Thankfully, the Masters put her out of mind as not a problem anymore.

And the dominoes fall.

Tiger Shark smacks Wasp out of the air, freeing Beetle to blast Hawkeye. And nobody can stop Moonstone from nerve pinching Hank Pym and pulling him into a truck.

Thor and Cap run out of the courthouse, presumably having gotten everyone to safety.

Thor: “Ho, villains! You’ve not won the day yet! Not as long as a single Avenger stands!”

Thor do what Thor do and what Thor do is throw Mjolnir.

Exceppppt its at Radioactive Man and Radioactive Man can still deflect Mjolnir with energy fields. Radiation can do that. Mjolnir doesn’t exist in real life so we can’t prove that radiation can’t do that.

Radioactive Man deflects Mjolnir right at Captain America. He gets his shield up in time but it still knocks him on his ass.

The Masters all book it into the truck while the Avengers get to their feet.

Wasp orders Hawkeye to shoot out the tires to the truck. But before he can and before it can be fruitless, a getaway truck explodes out of the truck and flies off more quickly than the Avengers can chase.

And by “the Masters all book it into the truck” I mean, “except Shocker” because they ditched him.

With the Masters escaped, Wasp turns on the shocked Shocker and rips off his mask and demands he tell them where the Masters are going.

But the shocked Shocker is too shocked to answer. He seems out of it, really.

So Wasp changes the question. Who is behind this? Why did they want to kidnap Hank Pym?

Shocker: “Why? It... it was his idea! Dr. Pym’s idea... He arranged for us to free him!”

DUN DUN DUUUUU- no wait we know thats not it

whats your game shocker

Sometime later, Hank Pym wakes up in Egghead’s lab. And, of course, immediately leaps up to kick the shit out of Egghead as soon as he sees him.

Alas, Tiger Shark holds him back.

Egghead: “Don’t restrain him too tightly, Tiger Shark! He’s of no use to us injured!”

Hank Pym: “I’ll ‘use’ you, Egghead! You’re responsible for ruining my life! You manipulated me into stealing that government adamantium... and set me up, when your scheme failed! You’re mad if you think you can make me help you now!”

Egghead: “Pish-tosh!”

Good rejoinder, Egghead.

God, this also cracks me up.

Egghead says that he’s in the middle of a great experiment and that he needs the world’s greatest biochemist, Hank Pym.

Hank is still on the ‘why the hell do you think I’ll help you, I hate you so much.’

So Egghead has the tv turned on.

Anchorman, Non Burgundy: “... Authorities were stunned by the news that Dr. Pym had planned his own abduction! The Avengers refused to comment on the Shocker’s confession, but polygraph experts confirmed --”

Egghead explains that Shocker was a patsy. His gauntlets were secretly rewired with special circuits that brainwashed him into believing what Egghead wanted him to. So thoroughly that it fooled a lie detector.

Egghead: “As far as the world is concerned, Henry, you are now most assuredly a criminal. No one will believe otherwise. Not the police... not even your former friends. You have no one to turn to in this world... except us! Join the Masters of Evil, Henry! We will give you a new life!”

Hank Pym: “All right... I’ll do it!”

DUN DUN DUN!!

Wow, so I guess Egghead wasn’t just being petty. He was also systematically destroying what little was left of Hank’s life to force him to work on SCIENCE project with him.

Proving his innocence and ‘getting his dignity back’ was all Hank had left to him.

Geez, sucks to be Hank Pym!

Psst, follow @essential-avengers? Like and reblog?

#Avengers #Egghead #Masters of Evil #Hank Pym #the Wasp #She Hulk #Hawkeye #Thor #Captain America #Captain Marvel #monica rambeau #Iron Man #not doing so well #essential avengers #essential marvel liveblogging #SUPERHERO LEGAL DRAMhaha just kidding it gets interrupted #lot of interesting trajectories the avengers are going on in this issue #so far so good on the Stern run

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honeybunny-sawamura · 4 years

Text

Chapter 4: First Date

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: None

Word Count: 3k

It took just two more times of them running into each other, a couple of texts, and another coffee run for the handsome police officer to finally ask the pretty figure skater out on a proper date.

The restaurant is cozy and it’s pretty busy, but Daichi knows the owner; is good friends with them in fact. Nozomi is impressed that there’s a table waiting for them with how full the restaurant seems to be. It’s got a good view of the city and after he pulls a chair out for her and make sure she’s comfortable (such a gentleman) Nozomi can’t help stare out of the window in wonder. Daichi stares as well but he’s not looking out into the city; he takes this time to appreciate Nozomi’s beauty with her soft looking hair cascading down one of her shoulders and fitting nicely in a navy-blue halter dress. The city lights are reflecting in Nozomi’s dark eyes and he swears they’re like stars in a night sky. He sucks in a breath when she turns her attention to him, and his mind goes blank. He feels like he should say something; like continue the conversation they were having in his car as they drove over here. But Daichi can’t remember what they had talked about earlier. He’s saved by a waitress who comes over to bring their water and menus and he’s somewhat thankful for the distraction. He was already feeling hot under his collar.

Nozomi is also glad for the waitress because Daichi was staring at her with such intensity that she felt like she was gonna melt into her chair. She listens to the waitress tell them about the restaurant’s special while she chances a glance at Daichi. His ear and cheeks are tinged with pink but he’s got his polite and professional demeanor on. He looks so good in his dark grey slacks and dark blue shirt (purely coincidental) that it makes her bite her lower lip. His shoulders are squared in attention and his nice thick arms are flexed that the figure skater wants to know what they feel like. When the waitress leaves them to decide, Daichi turns back to Nozomi who’s burying her red face in one of the menu books.

“Are you okay?” he asks her in concern.

“I’m fine!” she squeaks from behind the fancy menu, trying to will her blush to go down.

“Sorry for just staring at you earlier...” Daichi starts and Nozomi lowers the book down to give him her attention.

“I just... You’re so beautiful.” he finally gets out and he loves the way Nozomi’s cheeks turn pinker than before and her eyes widen so that he can see the stars in her eyes shine at his compliment.

“I… Thank you… You’re very handsome yourself.” She returns before quickly ducking back behind the menu. He shakes his head while feeling his own face flush at her words. They both busy themselves by looking through the menu; piping up to ask what the other is having and pointing out what looks yummy. It doesn’t take long for them to figure out what they want and it’s Nozomi who flags down the waitress. When their order has been placed, the figure skater goes back to looking out the window. She’s trying her best to calm her beating heart but when she peeks over at Daichi and catches him staring again, she flusters. Daichi chuckles lowly and he rubs the back of his neck in bashfulness and Nozomi finds this habit of his so endearing.

“The city nights look like stars…” she ponders aloud. Daichi looks out into the city and he hums in agreement.

“Miyagi had some of the best night views, if I remember.” And that opens the conversation up to star gazing and astronomical events they’ve seen when they were both still living in their hometown. Daichi quickly learns that Nozomi is fascinated in astronomy and can blather for hours about the subject. But he doesn’t mind; it’s fitting, honestly, about how much she loves the stars in the sky when she has some twinkling in her eyes. He listens intently to her talk about waking up in the middle of the night not to miss the meteor showers even if she had school the next day. In return, Daichi shares the time he and his brothers slept in a tent out in their backyard to wait for that same meteor shower and somehow, he woke up to marshmallows in his hair. They both laugh at that and were still giggling about it when their food came.

Their conversation continued throughout dinner and desserts as they talked about anything and everything. Nozomi shares that she had studied and trained in Russia before coming back to Japan for the figure skating competition. That somehow leads to her teaching Daichi simple Russian phrases; things like “Thank you” and “What’s your name?”. Daichi makes a mental note to try and study some English or Russian. He thinks it would be useful but more importantly, he wants to impress Nozomi. In return, Daichi teaches her about volleyball and the different types of positions. He feels his chest puff out in pride when she’s applauds him for taking on the captain role in his last year in high school. He shares stories of past games and even promises to invite her one day to see him and his gym buddies play. “I’ll hold you to that.” Nozomi tells him and he pinky promises.

When they notice that the restaurant is starting to clear out, the couple decides to leave as well. Both of them amazed at how much time they spent just talking. Daichi is thinking of his next move as he and Nozomi are at the register to pay for their dinner. He wants to spend more time with her, but he doesn’t know which option to go to; move to a bar? A coffee shop? He mulls it over as he insists on paying for dinner (He gets Nozomi’s cute pout, which he doesn’t mind.) and when they finally step out, he opens his mouth but Nozomi beats him to it,

“I saw a park somewhere close by... Do you... Wanna take a walk with me there?” she shyly asks and Daichi smiles warmly. He offers a hand to her and replies,

“I would love to Ms. Hoshikai.” Nozomi huffs softly but she a lovely shade of pink when she slips her hand into his. She can feel the callous on his hands from sports and work against her soft palm.

“You can call me Nozomi, I don’t mind... If you let me call you by just Daichi.” she bargains with him playfully. Daichi gives her the fondest smile she’s seen yet before raising their joined hands and letting his lips brush her knuckles. It sends a current through Nozomi’s arm to her whole body and she almost squeaks.

“Call me however you like… Nozomi.” he almost purrs and there’s a mix of cute and naughty thoughts bouncing in her head. She lets Daichi lead the way to the park, too dazed to let herself walk.

Nozomi awes at the fairy light wrapped trees when they enter the park; the stroll there wasn’t too far. The whole setting of the park reminds her somewhat of the Christmas lights in Russia and it makes her giddy. Daichi rubs his thumb against the back of her hand and she turns to look at him with sparkling eyes. He doesn’t remember how many times she’s taken his breath away, but he doesn’t mind each time. They talk softly as they trek on, continuing their earlier conversation from the restaurant. When they get closer to the center of the park, they can hear music; slow and tender. Nozomi doesn’t know what spurs her to do it but she turns to him and says,

“Dance with me?” her heart is quivering nervously in her chest, but she wants to do this. Daichi is taken aback by her request and while he doesn’t want to deny her, he sheepishly responds,

“I... I don’t know how...” but it doesn’t seem to dissuade her and she pulls him closer to the central area of the park.

“I’ll teach you.” she says. She has them face one another and takes one of his hand in hers. Then she takes his other hand to let it rest on her waist. Daichi swallows and licks his lips in nervousness but he grips her there and looks down at her with determination, ready for her instructions. She brightens up at his willingness to learn and she begins to lead him in a slow dance, coaching him softly and steadily. The park central is soon littered with giggles and apologies. The officer has stepped on Nozomi’s toes here and there, and he stammers an apology each time. But the figure skater just giggles and tells him it’s okay before gently leading him on the correct steps. Daichi starts to get the hang of it after a few minutes and though he’s still a little awkward, he’s smiling as he’s able to sway to the music with her. He’s concentrated on their steps and she finds it so endearing. He suddenly looks up at her with a grin and she blinks at him when suddenly he maneuvers her into a big spin. Nozomi laughs in delight at this and she spins back into him. Daichi catches her and pulls her close but maybe a little too close because he’s got her so flushed up against him. They stare at each other hearts beating wildly. Daichi watches Nozomi’s eyes flicker to his lips for a second and he’s sure he does the same. He wants to kiss her; wonders if she’ll taste like the honey she had with her dessert. He wants to know. They move their heads a little closer to each other until they hear a chuckle. They jump apart and look to find an elderly couple passing by who are clearly amused by the two of them. Daichi and Nozomi are blushing like two teens getting caught making out. Trying to hide his embarrassment, the officer clears his throat,

“I-I should get you home...” he says to her and Nozomi’s heart sinks a little, wishing she could spend more time with him. She mumbles a little “okay” before they start to make their way out of the park to go back to where he’s parked his car.

They don't say much on the way to her apartment, but the air is comfortable enough that they don’t need words. The radio softly plays in the background and Nozomi sometimes hums along. Daichi’s heart fills with something as he listens to her; he likes this. His hand twitches on the gear shift as he misses how soft and small her hands felt in his. He glances over and sees that one of her hands that was resting on her lap was close enough for him to take; but he didn’t want to be too forward and rude. Unbeknownst to him, Nozomi wanted to feel his hand in hers again, too. She touches the knuckles that he kissed earlier and feels her cheeks redden as she recalls how soft his lips were. She takes a peek at him and watches as he drives them along. She loves how fluffy his hair looks and admires the sharpness of his jawline. Her eyes travel down to his broad shoulders and sturdy frame and remembers when he had accidently pulled her too close to him when they were dancing. One would think he’d be too hard and stiff with a frame like his, but all Nozomi felt was warmth and a gentle firmness. For the briefest moment she was in his arms she felt safe and content; she didn’t want to leave his embrace. Even now, Daichi’s presence gave off that same feeling she felt when she was wrapped up in him.

Her apartment building soon comes into view and Nozomi’s heart sinks more. She doesn’t want the night to end yet. Daichi pulls into the guest parking lot and when he kills the engine, he squeezes the steering for a moment before turning to her and undoing his seatbelt,

“Let me walk you to your apartment?” he offers and Nozomi nods, relived that they’re stretching this as long as they can. As they make their way up to where the figure skater lives, the go back to talking; it’s not hard to find a topic to jump on. They walk as slow as possible and even lingering outside her door for a good chunk of time when Daichi shares a cute story of him visiting an elementary school for Career Day. But when a neighbor peeks their head out into the hallway at them, they decide that it’s time to part ways.

"I had... I had a great time, tonight." Nozomi starts. Daichi can feel his body thrum with happiness.

"I did too." He agrees softly and watches Nozomi turns around to unlock her door and turn on her lights. She turns back around to face him and says something the same time he does,

"Next wee-" "This Wednesd-" They both blink at each other before letting out a laugh. Nozomi motions him to continue and Daichi rubs the back of his neck,

"I was wondering... If you're free this coming Wednesday? There's a special astronomy event happening at the planetarium. You've talked a lot about star gazing so I-"

"Yes! I'd love to! Umm… Go with you, I mean..." Nozomi answers a little too quickly, abashed at her eagerness. But Daichi's heart swells as he sees her eyes brighten with excitement and he's happy to find that the stars in her eyes are still there. Even though they've agreed on the time Daichi will be picking her up at her apartment for their Wednesday date, they are reluctant to say good bye. It feels like something needs to happen, but they don't know what it is. They linger for a moment before Daichi starts to excuse himself,

"Well... I'll see you on Wednesday. Good night." He's about to turn around when Nozomi stops him,

"Wait!" she grabs him by the hand and his hand tingles at the contact. She flounders for a bit on what to say until she blurts out,

"Text me? When you get home? So, I know you made it back safely?" she asks of him. It makes him warm all over with the way she cares and is considerate of him. He nods and gives her his usual mock salute.

"Will do, Nozomi." She doesn’t smile or laugh this time. Instead, she chews on her lower lip and looks away as she gathers the courage to murmur a request,

"Can I kiss you?"

Daichi stares at the woman in front of him, brain slightly short circuiting from her request. Nozomi’s brows crease in slight worry and her pink stained lips are slightly parted to quickly utter an apology if she needs to. But the police officer is lost in her eyes; they're so dark brown that it takes the illumination from her hallway light to distinguish where her irises are. But he likes them; for stars only shine their brightest in the darkest of night skies. And the stars in hers are quivering, scared that she's being too forward; too scared he'll say no. But he won't say no. He'll never say no to this. He closes the distance between them and brings a hand up to stroke her cheek. He watches it tint in a rosy color and he breathes out his answer,

"Yes..." And his eyes close slowly when she tip toes up and leans forward to gently place a kiss on his lips. It's small and a tad hesitant but it's everything. The kiss only lasts a moment before she's pulling away, but he chases and kisses her back; holding her face a little firmly with both his hands and slotting his lips onto hers. Nozomi gasps but it’s soon followed by a soft moan that makes the hairs on the back of his neck raise. And to answer his own question on what her kiss would taste like; it is indeed sweet as honey and warm. Before it can get any further, Daichi reluctantly pulls away. He opens his eyes to see hers half lidded and lips parted for another kiss, but he refuses the temptation.

"It's late... You should head inside." he says breathlessly. Nozomi blinks in focus and once she's back to earth, she blushes a bright red and stutters in agreement,

"A-Ah Right! And you need to head home!” Daichi nods. Before he pulls away completely, he places a kiss on her forehead.

“Good night, Nozomi.” Her heart leaps for joy at the way he says her name. It sounds wonderful coming off his lips.

“Good night, Daichi.” He can feel something bang around in his chest as she calls him by his first name. He has to push down the urge to kiss her again but it’s not so simple. It’s already a bit difficult to make his way towards the elevator. Nozomi waits until Daichi’s inside of it and waves to him. He waves back before the doors close and he descends. Once she steps in her apartment and locks her door, the figure skater lets out a squeal and throws herself onto her couch. She grabs a pillow and buries her face in it as she replays the kiss in her head over and over. She then replays the whole night she’s had and Nozomi is squealing all over again.

Daichi leans against his car as he thinks about how she asked if she could kiss him. How could a simple request captivate him so? Yet it did and he hopes she asks him for kisses more and more. His heart is full, and he's elated to have another date with her on Wednesday. He wants to see her again, spend more time with her, just be in her presence all the time. He blushes at his thoughts and desires. One a time, he tells himself as he gets in his car. He touches his lips that still tingle from their kiss. He lets out a grin and pulls out of the parking lot to his way home. Wednesday can’t come soon enough.

Taglist: @tsumtsumland @ceo-of-daichi @daichis-kitty @karasimpno

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meddlingdaphne · 4 years

Text

get to know DAPHNE BLAKE

The Blake family name comes with a legacy that extends far beyond Coolsville, California. Their wealth extends for generations, and their family tree spreads all across the globe. No matter what Blake you’re referring to, they’re doing something exceptional. An uncle that’s a movie director, an aunt that owns a record company, a sister that’s an astronaut. Everyone’s spectacular and it was just expected that Daphne would fall in line with that.

Daphne’s the youngest of the Blake girls, and if there was ever a time where her parents were actively present in raising their children then it happened long before Daphne was born. Her father had a mega-corporation to run and her mother kept her phone glued to her ear as she organized galas and benefit dinners for the charity of the month. Daphne’s sisters were all teenagers when she was just a little girl, choosing parties and relationships over playing with their baby sister. With no one to turn to, Daphne grew close with the family butler Jenkins.

For a while, Jenkins was Daphne’s only friend. He’d sit and dress her dolls with her, they’d have weekly tea parties with her stuffed animals and he’d read her bedtime stories every night. Jenkins always kept an air of professionalism about him, referring to her only as Ms. Blake despite the fact that he was more of a father figure to her than her actual father. The lines of their relationship are a little blurry, and Daphne is unsure if the butler truly does care for her or if he went out of his way for because he was expected to. Either way, she knows no matter what she can depend on Jenkins when she’s in a tight spot (and she often is.)

When Daphne’s parents were around conversations hardly centered around her interests. Her parents are absolute pretentious snobs, judging everything the people around them did. A person’s worth was based on the quality of their clothes and the job they held. When she was younger she held some of those pretentious values herself, caring way more about people’s appearance more than much else. But becoming friends with Shaggy, Velma and Fred changed all of that for her. Spending time with them was the first time she’d ever felt truly seen. More than just the spoiled little rich girl, more than something to admire for her beauty.

At first, Daphne didn’t share much about her family with the gang. They knew she was rich and that she had a butler who’d move mountains to make sure she was happy, but not very much else about her life was shared. She never liked talking about how neglected she felt at home. She always thought at least she had parents, even if they weren’t around on a daily basis or put a lot of pressure on her. Her problems were trivial in the grand scheme of things, and a lot of their peers made sure she knew that. But never the Mystery Inc. gang, when she finally did open up they listened to her and gave what she had to say the same attention they’d give a mystery. Daphne was so touched she almost cried. She didn’t though because she didn’t want to ruin her mascara, but she almost did and that’s what matters.

Daphne doesn’t have the best relationship with her older sisters, especially her sister Daisy. Growing up she often felt overshadowed by them. Their mother especially spent a lot of time comparing Daphne to her sisters, wanting Daphne to do something worthy of the Blake name when she grew older. While Delilah, Dorothy and Dawn were too busy to really bother their baby sister, Daisy took a special interest in picking on her sister. She picked apart the younger Blake’s outfits and made fun of her friends. If Daphne so much as got a B- in a class Daisy was there to remind her that she had been a straight A student. Life in sister’s shadow was cold, living under her constant nitpicking was colder.

It isn’t until her sophomore year in high school that Daphne tells her family about Mystery Inc. By then they’d solved a handful of mysteries and had made a bit of a name for themselves around town for their meddling. The silly neighborhood mysteries the kids solved were no where near her parents radar, and despite a lot of the town knowing about it her parents were utterly clueless. The news didn’t come from Daphne by choice, rather by force. Daisy brings it up at dinner, knowing exactly the reaction the information would earn from her parents.

It’s safe to say dinner doesn’t go well. Her parents write off Mystery Inc. as a silly game, something unimportant that they didn’t have to pay much attention to. They spent the majority of the dinner making fun of the entire thing and insisting that she and her friends were wasting her time. Most importantly that she was wasting her time hanging out with these kids in the first place.

Danger Prone Daphne is a nickname she hates. Even though it does hold a lot of merit. In the pursuit of their cases Daphne is always the first to fall through a trap door, get kidnapped, or trip over something. It’s a part of the reason she started looking into self defense classes. She dropped a lot of money on getting the best instruction that she could. Thinking back on it, as much as she hates the name, she’s kind of proud of how far she’s come because of it.

In high school Daphne was a part of so many clubs. She wasn’t dumb, but she knew her grades weren’t as spectacular as her sisters’ and especially not Velma’s. So she joined a lot of clubs hoping it would beef up her resume, and it was a great way to stay in the know and make friends! If something happened around town that needed investigating it was likely Daphne would hear about it first. One of the clubs she’d joined was the broadcasting club. She can’t lie, what initially drew her to it was the prospect of being in front of the camera. But the more she worked with her fellow club members and their instructor, the more she appreciated the work they did.

Daphne was nominated for prom queen, because of course she was. The gang had been asked to investigate some suspicious sightings that was scaring away business at their favorite food spot. Her parents were thrilled at the prospect of their little girl being prom queen, and Daphne was excited about it too. Or so she thought. When the gang found out the perpetrator was skulking around the diner again, there was a moment where Daphne wondered if she was really going to leave her senior prom early to go chasing some creep. But the doubt lasted for only a second, and Daphne ran after her friends to go investigate the sighting. It was that moment that she realized solving mysteries was something she loved more than being applauded for her beauty and glamour.

The diner case was, at the time, the biggest case the gang had solved at the time. It earned them front page in their local newspaper and the headline ‘Meddling Kids Save Local Business’ made its way across the web. Mystery Inc was slowly starting to get the appreciate Daphne always thought they deserved.

When she told her parents that she wanted to major in journalism in college there were mixed opinions. On one end, they thought that would be a great job for her. Not as important as being a doctor or an astronaut or anything else her sisters were doing, but a good job nonetheless. Maybe she could own her own entertainment empire! That glee died the second they going out she intended to follow her friends and go to the same college. Daphne’s parents never miss an opportunity to tell her just how disappointed they are in her choices.

She does have plans to own her own entertainment empire. She wants to start with an investigative journalism show, she’s thinking Coast to Coast with Daphne Blake has a nice ring to it.

Despite being ridiculously rich, Daphne thought it’d be in her best interest to learn some financial independence. Her parents still send her money monthly to make sure she’s ok, and of course they’re paying her tuition. But Daphne hardly spends the money they send her, she puts it away in her savings account in case of a rainy day. And even then she doesn’t really think she’s going to use it because of her pride. Daphne got a job at Bibbidi Bobbiddi Beauty, and she’s made a name for herself amongst their regulars for always knowing the best products to try.

Always looks her best! No matter what. Her work out clothes are always the cutest, her makeup is always on point and her hair always perfectly in place. She’s not as vain and appearance obsessed as she used to be, but she still takes great pride in the way she looks. When she looks her best, she feels her best.

Daphne is almost always spending her free time at the gym. She’s interested in expanding her knowledge of self defense outside of just karate.

WANTED CONNECTIONS.

MYSTERY BUDDIES!! anyone who knows anything about the powers and magic? She wants to talk to you

SHOPPING BUDDIES!! this one is pretty self explanatory, she wants someone to buy cute clothes with pls

REGULARS. anyone who comes into the makeup store, whether it’s for themselves or to buy a gift for their partner. chances are Daphne helped them and she’d be ecstatic to help them again

CRUSH. canonically Daphne keeps a romantic interest, and i’mma be real she is very easily smitten so a crush or two, whether unreciprocated or not, would be nice

EXES. yeah...yeah. y’all know i say this every time but the angstier the better

#A #💄 picked up momentum and used it; promise I’ll never lose it. (about.)

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mirkwoodshewolf · 5 years

Text

A day with mother Doctor; 13th Doctor x child reader

*Author’s note*

Okay everyone here is yet another 13th Doctor request, boy you all sure want some Doctor who fics huh? I’ve been going over my requests and besides BoRhap, DW is the top most requested fandom I have. But I’m happy to obliege in these requests, esp. since I’m getting more of Tennent’s doctor. So here I give you nothing but pure fluff of yet another Mama 13th doctor fanfic. Sorry for the shortness of it but I hope to the anon who requested this, I hope I still did you justice of a domestic mama doctor. Enjoy my lovelies :)

Taglist:

@psychosupernatural

@ixchel-9275

@plethora-of-things

@waddles03

___________________________________________________

When you’re on a trip with the Doctor, no day is ever boring. Every day is something new, exciting, dangerous and lesson learning. With her newfound team of Yasmin, Ryan and Graham the Doctor has shown them the entire galaxy, been back in time to a historic moment in American history, and forward into the apocalyptic future.

But to one person on Team Tardis, that life just seemed well—boring. And that person was none other than the Doctor’s daughter, (y/n). Little 6 year old (y/n) while she did enjoy the adventure and thrill of saving the entire galaxy, she missed out on doing what she had seen human kids her physical age have done. She always wanted to know what it was like to fly on the swings, go down the slide, and go through the endless jungle gym. But when you’re the child of the Doctor, you’ve gotta stay focus on saving the galaxy and time itself, not asking your mum when can we go to the park in London town.

Currently (y/n) was in her room lying on her bed looking extremely bored when a knock was heard at her door.

“Come in.” It was then her mum peeked in and said.

“Hey darling, guess what? I’ve just found us the perfect spot to let the gang witness the birth of an actual star!” She was so excited and pumped up and she expected her daughter to act the same way.

“Oh that’s great mum.” Already sensing the sad tone in her voice, the Doctor fully entered her daughter’s room shutting the door behind her and said.

“You okay darling?”

“I’m fine.” She tried to brush off.

“No you’re not. Usually when I mention the stars you never want to pass up an opportunity, even though you’ve seen certain events several hundred times.” She walked up to her daughter’s bed and sat down beside her and proceeded, “So c’mon love out with it, what’s on your mind?”

“Well…..not that I don’t enjoy saving the galaxy and seeing all its wonders believe me mum I truly do love it, but I—I just wish I got to experience what it’s like to be like the children on Earth. Enjoy what human children enjoy.” She looked down shamefully not wanting to see her mom’s judgmental look.

The Doctor listened loud and clear on what her daughter was saying and she lifted her chin up and said.

“And what exactly would you like to do?”

“I—I’ve always wondered what the joys of their playgrounds were like. Parks always looked do pleasant and—I’ve always wanted to know what it felt like to go on a swing. They’ve always looked so much fun.” The Doctor smiled softly and she said.

“Wait here for a moment love, and don’t come out till I tell you you can.” She then raced out of the room leaving (y/n) confused. When she arrived at the gang who were all talking at the center of the TARDIS and she proclaimed, “Alright Fam. We’ve got a mission on our hands.”

“What is it Doctor? Is someone in trouble?” asked Graham.

“Yes, my daughter.”

“What’s wrong with (y/n) is she sick?” Ryan asked.

“Just answer me this, where’s the best park in London in your time? I’ve seen all the best parks throughout time and space but sometimes I get them mixed up, Yaz give me the deats.”

“Well that really depends on what it is you want.” She explained.

“Where’s one with a playground in it. With swings, lots and lots of swings, maybe ohh what are those things you climb up on and slide down on?” the Doctor rambled.

“A slide?” Yaz questioned.

“Slide! That’s it. Excellent job Yaz so yeah where’s the best place for one that has all that.”

“Well that’d be St. James Park.”

“Brilliant. Hang on gang!” The Doctor then flipped some switches before finally pulling the lever and the TARDIS soon went from the Milky way in 2346 back to Earth 2019 London, England. “Okay, you guys head on out and I’ll go get my daughter. We’re gonna give her a special surprise.” The Doctor said with a wide smile before racing back toward her daughter’s room.

She slide across the floor and proclaimed.

“Okay darling, come with me.”

“Mummy what’s going on?”

“Just come outside with me and you’ll see.” She said as she held out her hand and couldn’t wipe the wide smile across her face. (Y/n) took her mother’s hand and the two of them raced out of the TARDIS.

“Mum, mum will you please tell me what’s going on?” she said as the two of them were now at the doors.

“I will, but first I want you to close your eyes and not ask any more questions.”

“Mum what are you planning?”

“Hey I thought I asked no questions young lady?” she teased as she quickly tickled her daughter. She giggled before she said.

“Okay mum, but promise me it’s not going to be like New, New, New, New York?”

“I had no control over that and you know it little missy, no just close them. I promise you, you’re gonna love it.” She closed her eyes and the Doctor opened the doors before taking her daughter’s hands and slowly dragging her outside.

“Can I open them?”

“Hang on, just a little longer.” They walked further out then came around and stood behind her and said. “Alright, you can open your eyes now.”

And when the young time lady opened her eyes, she saw before her a magnificent playground. Swings, sandpit, slide, a jungle gym, the whole enchilada.

“Oh my—we’re…..but how…..”

“Your mum decided to give you a special little surprise love. Finally you get to experience what human kids go through.” Graham stated. She then turned to her mum who walked up and knelt down to her daughter’s height and said.

“You’ve done so much with me, figured it’s time I did something for you.”

“Thanks mum, I love you.” She hugged her mum and the Doctor hugged her back and said.

“I love you too poppet.” She kissed her daughter’s head and said to the fam, “Okay gang, whose ready for some casual yet thrilling fun?” They all cheered and raced on down towards the playground of St. James park.

“Here (y/n) come here, I’ll show you where the slide’s at.” Said Ryan. He guided her over to the tall metal slide and he said. “My nan always brought me here every day after school and every time I would always come over here. Wanna give it a go?” she nodded enthusiastically and proceeded to climb up the ladder to the top of the slide, Ryan telling her to be careful and that there wasn’t any rush.

“Hey Ryan, wanna see what I learned back in New, New Orleans?”

“Alright just be careful. I don’t want your mum blaming me if you get hurt.” She waved him off then turned and slide down backwards on the slide. Cheering before backflipping as soon as she reached the bottom and went.

“Ta-da!”

“Ohh wow well done. 10 out of 10 points!” Ryan applauded.

“Thank you, thank you.”

“(Y/n) over here!” It was then (y/n) saw her mum and Yaz over by the pedicle of what she longed to experience, the swings. She raced over towards her mum and Yaz and she said in awe.

“Is this…..”

“Yeah, these are the famed swings. Here have a seat.” Yaz said. She quickly came up and sat down on it. “Careful now, don’t thrash around too much.”

“Okay love you ready?” her mum said as she went behind her daughter.

“I’m ready mum.” The slowly she began pushing her daughter on the swing.

“Whoa!” She wobbled a bit.

“Keep a firm grip on the handles so you don’t fall over.” Yaz advised. (Y/n) made her grip a bit tighter on the railing so that she wouldn’t fall off when she went upward. “Alright now with your legs moving back and forth the same way your moving, think you can do it yourself?”

“I think so.” (y/n) answered. It was then the Doctor stepped aside and ever the fast learner that she was, (y/n) was starting to swing on her own. “Hey, I’m—I’m doing it. Mummy look! I’m doing it!”

“Ohh brilliant darling, oh that’s my girl!” the Doctor cheered. As she kept swinging, (y/n) soon got higher and higher almost so that she could touch the clouds. “Mum I’m gonna try and jump off, I’ve seen other kids do it and I want to try it.”

“Alright love just be careful. And don’t fall to fast dear.” After a couple of swings back and forth, when she went forward, she leapt off the swing and flew in the air doing one single flip but before she could hit the ground, she was caught by none other than her mother. “Oh great stars you little rotter.”

“But it was fun mummy. Thank you for this.”

“Anything for my number one gal pal.” They rubbed their noses against each other before touching foreheads.

The rest of the day the entire team Tardis members spent the day in the park, swinging, sliding and watching (y/n) run through the jungle gym maze. Life is always full of adventure when it comes to the Doctor. But when it comes to her daughter even a domestic adventure such as going to the park could be exciting, especially if it made her daughter happy.

#doctor who #doctor who fanfic #doctor who imagine #doctor who imagines #doctor who fandom #doctor who fanfiction #Jodie Whittaker #13th doctor #13th doctor x reader #13th doctor x child reader #13th doctor fluff #13th doctor fanfic #13th doctor imagine #13th doctor imagines

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dnylwrites · 5 years

Text

noren / dnyl (alternatively: fuck you and jaennifer)

renjun suspects jeno is cheating on him with his childhood friend.

cross-posted to ao3 / rating: teen and up / word count: 12134

hello children. this fic is very obviously inspired by the dreamies newest station dnyl which you should 100% stream cuz *kisses fingers* molto bene!!!!!!! big big thanks to my friend @henderson_wong (on ao3) for betaing and putting fire under my ass whenever needed the alternative title is from bülows song titled 'fuck you and jennifer' please enjoy

Everything about Renjun’s demeanor as he stormed through the courtyard of his school was the prime dictionary definition of explosive. It was the angry tears oozing at the corners of his eyes, it was the stomping, apace stride, the balled fists which so fervently attempted to wipe at the wetness on his cheeks every few seconds despite the very blatancy thereof, and it was the overall aura that shrouded his alarming presence, that made people automatically turn their heads and break out into hushed murmurs.

It was the aura of someone who has just broken up with someone.

And it so happened to be Renjun’s boyfriend of ten months, school basketball team leader and commonly known high school sweetheart, Lee Jeno. Whose yellow basketball jersey was now permanently graced with a big irremovable stain of pink Kool-Aid, courtesy of his now-ex-boyfriend.

It really was a call of fate, Renjun reasoned. Not even five minutes before the beginning of classes that day, Renjun received a text from Chenle, saying his friend Jisung, Jeno’s neighbor, had spotted Jeno and Jaemin leave his boyfriend’s house together earlier with what looked like a bag of toiletries and immediately Renjun got the unrelenting urge to vomit all over the chemistry homework he was copying for third block, as it suddenly occurred to him why he hadn’t received his daily Good Morning text for the first time since they started dating. Renjun found himself in the male washroom of the gym, the one place where he knew no one to be at this hour because it was furthest from the cafeteria, furthest from him, and lunch break still lasted for another seven minutes which he could spend having his irate heaving echo against the devoid walls freely before he’d have to suck it all up and move on to the next class looking like nothing affected him.

As if nothing affected him.

Renjun laughed bitterly. His phone was going off with all sorts of notification sounds, some from Line indicating them being from his older brother, others from iMessage which indicated Chenle, or their group chat, or perhaps – Renjun bit down on his bottom lip. Removing his phone from his pocket, avoiding explicitly reading anything on the screen before holding down the shutdown button and panic-strickenly swiping for it to turn off as if it was a ticking time bomb. Once the sounds were cut off, he pushed open the door of the last stall to slump against the closed toilet seat, fresh sobs raking their way through his tied up throat as he pressed the heels of his palms against his drenched orbits.

Fuck Lee Jeno.

Fuck Lee Jeno and fuck Na Jaemin. May they fuck each other and let everyone else live in peace.

“Renjun?”

He startled, instinctively pulling his knees to his chest, yet he knew that he had given himself away when a rueful sniffle broke the dead silence upon Mark’s entering. A pair of feet stopped before his stall.

“Renjun, I know you’re in here.”

“Go away,” He hissed.

Mark sighed.

“How are you doing?”

“Just about fucking brilliant, thank you very much.”

He knew he was being harsh on his friend, but he wasn’t in a mood to talk. He wanted to go home, curl up in his bed, soak his panda plush with tears until he was completely devoid of emotion and then fall asleep watching some cheap new Netflix original. All simple requests he supposed, and yet all so far from tangible at this moment. Renjun shed another tear at the thought.

Mark still wasn’t moving, and Renjun assumed he was looking for something to say. Good old Mark was never a man of words, and usually Renjun found it in him to applaud the effort but not today. The silence lingered for a bit, and Renjun hated every second of it considering he spent the entirety of it actively attempting to suppress audibly sobbing so Mark wouldn’t get even more concerned, and god forbid, suggest for Renjun to go home. He had to know that Renjun would nevertheless insist he had to maintain a strong stance in front of the school, especially after the embarrassment he underwent in the cafeteria, this kind-of-obsession with image consistently having earned him That Look from Mark that he really wasn’t all too keen on having today.

Renjun had to look strong. He had to look certain.

As much as he couldn’t deny that getting over someone wasn’t a matter of hours, or days even, he wasn’t going to let people speculate on the validity of their breakup – Renjun was sure, and Renjun didn’t hand out chances like free candy. People had to learn that. Renjun had to learn that.

“Let me know if you want to talk,” Was all that Renjun heard before the sneakers beneath the stall door set in motion, seemingly heading towards the exit.

God bless Mark. God bless Mark and friends like Chenle, and Jisung even, for having his back. Love was for suckers, Renjun concluded, and unlike Jeno he knew his friends to be loyal to him even if he acted like an impulsive bullheaded crybaby. His blurry vision zoomed into a spot on the mud brown stall wall to his left, nausea rising in him again.

A heart-framed ‘J+R’ written with black permanent marker which seemed to subsist for the sole purpose of twisting the knife in Renjun’s gut, as if it predicted all of this was going to happen, and Renjun was seriously going to vomit.

But first he had to sit through two more blocks.

Renjun had done his fair share of angry moping the following weekend, his older brother popping his head into Renjun’s room every few hours or so to find the younger wrapped up in his blanket pretending to sleep, as if he hadn’t just bawled his eyes out for what seemed like the five hundredth time since school ended that particular day, and when Monday rolled around he almost found himself jumping into some shallow guise of the routine he had before the incident.

But just almost.

Leaving out the two thirds of his day that used to revolve solely around Jeno it seemed. But luckily he had friends who seemed to have nothing better to concern themselves with than spending their afternoons hanging out at Chenle’s place, their usual hangout spot because the boy’s father was some rich corporate business bloke with three sticks up his ass while his mom was a pilot – an odd couple, as the people who knew liked to point out every so often, and while it meant that Chenle was often alone, it also meant they had a bat cave, a bat mansion rather, that they could unwind in after school hours and play Wii to their hearts’ content.

They were sprawled out in Chenle’s living room, the youngest on the floor in front of Mark and Renjun who had plopped down onto the vast cream couch that would most definitely fit all of them if only Chenle didn’t insist that sitting on the floor felt more organic. It was around the third round of Mario Kart that Renjun was practically itching to talk about it, but he kept seal, at least until Mark exasperatedly slammed the controller onto the cushion next to him effectively declaring defeat until his spirits would be magically lifted again.

“How are you dealing, Renjun?”

Renjun deflated backwards into the cushions with a huff. “Dealing.��

“Have you seen him today?”

He had.

And it was as aggravating of an ordeal as Renjun had anticipated, the lack of having properly dealt with his feelings seeping past the stone cold guise that he had deliberately plastered onto his face before entering school premises in apprehension of said scenario. It was before Renjun’s second block, when he knew Jeno to be having basketball, that he snuck to his locker in hopes of avoiding the latter when by ill luck he found the very devil himself leaning against it, eyes catching onto Renjun quickly and striding towards him with urgency.

“Renjun I–”

“Swallow it.”

He turned on his heel to skate down the other direction, not even bothering to pick a swift pace knowing that Jeno would chase him down regardless. Feeling fingers grasp at his wrist, Renjun promptly snapped his head towards the other to shoot him a murderous glare, one that made Jeno loosen his grip instantaneously without Renjun having to utter a single word.

“Renjun, I beg you, please let me explain to you,” Jeno’s eyes were genuinely pleading, Renjun could tell, and yet it only made him grate his teeth even further.

“I don’t want your dumbass explanation,” Venom seeped through his tone and he noted how it made Jeno almost reflexively take a step back. “I don’t want to see you or your new boytoy ever again. Stay the fuck away from me.”

It shocked Renjun how much satisfaction he got from seeing everything from Jeno’s expression to his body visibly deflate, twist with hurt and in some indistinct nook of Renjun’s mind he thought himself to be a sadist for enjoying what felt like kicking a puppy in its guts. But he took that feeling over the overawing feel of remorse that overcame him by the time he sat in class later on any day, and he was resolute that if Jeno tried to show up in front of his locker again he’d start storing his stuff in Chenle’s to make the message all the clearer. Mark looked considerably awed at Renjun’s retelling of the incident, the latter having left out the part about kicking puppies for obvious reasons.

“Damn, Injoon, you served it to the fucker cold,” Chenle quipped from below, Renjun feeling pride disseminate in his chest.

“Wasn’t that a bit harsh?”

Renjun rolled his eyes. “Whose side are you on?”

“Yours, yours,” Mark’s hands shot up defensively. “But did you actually hear anything about what happened apart from what Jisung said he saw? For all we know it could literally just be a misunder–”

“Hey, are you questioning my friend’s integrity?” Chenle barked in offense, and Renjun was quick to follow up, getting more irritated with every second of Mark’s tentativeness.

“I know because this isn’t the first time Jaemin caused problems between us. Mind you, you were the one telling me to dump Jeno’s ass when he and Jaemin got all cozy at your party that one summer.”

“That was eight months ago! You guys have made progress since then,” Mark argued, Renjun all the more tense.

“Have we though!? Because he was the one who promised there was nothing going on when there was, very evidently, something going on the whole time, right in front of my fucking face mind you and now I look like Boo-Boo the fucking Fool because I haven’t seen this coming from a mile away like I should have!”

Maybe it hadn’t been a good idea to talk about it. Renjun realized his mistake now. A frown was settled deeply into the crease between his eyebrows, and he didn’t look at his friends, a certain sense telling him that the two were exchanging telling glances at this very moment. The wound was still raw, and while he immediately felt a prick of conscience upon yelling at Mark for asking questions that weren’t in the slightest short of validity, he also felt a pang of hurt at their lack of faith in his decision. He knew it wasn’t realistic to expect unconditional support in whatever Renjun decided, but he couldn’t deny he was stubbornly expecting it nonetheless.

“You know what, fuck the guy,” Mark suddenly spoke up again, and Renjun finally glanced up again to see the tension his friends’ faces having worn down, to his relief.

“Yeah, fuck the guy!” Chenle mimicked, sounding almost excited at the prospect of going back to bashing Renjun’s ex. “Jisung says he sucks at basketball anyway, if his dad wasn’t friends with his coach he wouldn’t even have made it as captain!”

“Enough Lele,” Mark warned, and sometimes Renjun was grateful for Mark’s insistency to always do the mature thing.

“By the way, I tried to talk to him today.”

For a second Renjun’s brain jumped to Jeno? once more, but he immediately came to his senses. He seriously had to get over his Jeno tunnel vision.

“How did it go?”

“I wasn’t even going to talk about it,” Mark picked at the hem of a hole in his ripped jeans. “That’s how bad.”

Renjun was sort of relieved that Mark was changing the subject to his distant crush, a change from the charged up earlier topic more than welcome.

“I asked him if he still needed backing for his number at the talent show and he asked how I knew he’s participating this year,” His lips pressed into a tight line. “I got nervous as hell and then his friends came around and I just. I said Don’t worry about it and turned around and left.”

Chenle started cackling, earning himself an eyeroll from Renjun’s end followed by a slap to the back of his head.

“You could’ve just told him that you assumed because he participated last year,” Renjun said almost scoldingly. “Baffling how your braincells exit the second he breathes in your direction.”

“Implying Mark has any to begin with.”

This time the smack was considerably harder, as was the Ow! that Chenle huffed out in response.

“I let you into the sanctuary of my home and this is how you repay me!”

“Stop being a dick, this is our crisis circle and you’re putting it to shame,” Renjun snapped back, returning his regard to his best friend.

When suddenly, he was hit by a brain wave.

“Guys,” Renjun pondered. Both friends fixed their gaze on him. “What if we created a club?”

Mark grimaced slightly.

“A club? It concerns me that this comes right after you called our hangouts crisis circles.”

Renjun didn’t annotate to that. “A club like. You know, like Anonymous Alcoholics just for people who,” He beat about for the right words. He didn’t particularly want to use the term heartbroken, as his heart was whole and anything but, thank you very much. “People who don’t need love?”

“People who don’t need love? Sounds very dramatic,” Chenle sneered. “I like it.”

“I need love though. Lee Donghyuck’s love preferably.”

Renjun gave Mark’s thigh a light push. “Come on, Mark. It’s not just for people who resent love. Just for people who have been let down by it.”

“This is so high school slice-of-life movie-esque, people would eat it up,” Chenle tapped his finger against the solid cushions. “Besides, this school lives for the gossip, and this screams drama.”

Renjun had a feeling his eyes would eventually get stuck at the back of his head, because for one, point at the obvious, and secondly, how was he supposed to convince Mark with the agenda blatantly displayed like that. “Not really the point. But yes,” He turned his regard back to the older. “Imagine how much motivation could come from hearing everyone else struggle with the same shit you do. How much raw, balled up emotion we could gather in one room, and we don’t even need to call anyone by their names. Just a bunch of kids letting out their frustrations, to help them cope with all this shit and we could even do some rebellious teen activities to let off some steam. It’d give us strength, a fortress within the school, people supporting each other, outsiders wanting to be a part. We’d be untouchable. Like an actual support group, but just, cool you know?” He elbowed his friend lightly. “And who knows, maybe Donghyuck shows up to join one day.”

Mark’s brows settled into a light frown at that. “Sounds like you’re just saying that to convince me.”

Renjun grinned. “Is it working?”

Mark zoned in on the table top in front of them. “Maybe.”

“Cool,” Renjun’s head whipped to Chenle, his creative impulsivity having reached new peaks at that very moment. “Chenle, we need posters.”

“Aye aye, captain.”

“And a classroom. Preferably far from the cafeteria, somewhere quiet and secluded. No science classrooms – they always smell of phosphor,” Chenle avidly typed away on the note app on his phone. “We also need a good name. Something that people will remember and want to tell their friends about. Something like–”

“DNYL?” Mark cut in, expression still featuring hints of hesitancy. Renjun and Chenle turned to look at him. “It’s like. Don’t need your love, but with letters in short.”

Wow. Mark really was a man of speech.

“DNYL,” Renjun tried on his tongue. “It works.”

“It works!” Chenle piped up.

“It screams chaos,” Mark mumbled.

Renjun half smiled at his friends, newfound confidence making his chest rise solemnly. “Which is exactly what I’m after.”

Renjun was impressed.

Chenle really didn’t disappoint, and neither did Jisung, Chenle’s creative mastermind and designated partner in crime, as they liked to call it. God knows when they had found the time to do all of this, but the next morning when Renjun walked into school he was awed to find posters plastered all over the hallways, on lockers, pillars, classroom doors and water fountains. Renjun was kind of sad at the notion that all of that hard work may eventually prove futile, latest when the school decided to put all of them down as soon as the principal got whiff of the situation, but he also considered that a fair amount of people was bound to see the uproar before that’d happen, particularly taking the sheer quantity of them into account. Chenle was smart enough to merely reference a vague meeting spot and not a specific classroom, from which he’d escort students to the club location so they may remain shielded from teachers’ prying eyes – merely students were to speak of DNYL and its location or circumstances, and snitches, as Renjun smilingly referred later at lunch that day, got stitches. Chenle and Jisung were a force to be reckoned with.

Renjun did spot Jeno in the cafeteria again, but to his relief the latter made no attempt to chase him upon sight again, merely shooting Renjun a longing gaze (Chenle’s words, not Renjun’s) before joining a table primarily assembled of his basketball team mates.

“I know exactly what the topic of our first DNYL meeting should be!”

“Chenle, there is no specific topic for meetings, we’re just supposed to ramble.”

“Hear me out, won’t you,” He said, offended, threateningly charging his spoon with sticky rice in Renjun’s direction. “My parents won’t be home until Sunday this week, how about we hold an initiation party at my place? You know, to get the people hyped and bonding and drunk!”

Renjun mused, nodding along. Mark hummed. Almost as if on cue, Jisung emerged from what seemed to be the jock table to slide into the seat next to Chenle, tossing his bag to his feet.

“Hey everybody,” The others regarded him with a nod respectively. “How do you like the posters?”

“They’re insane, how the fuck did you make them so fast? When did you guys put them up?” Mark asked half weary half impressed.

Chenle and Jisung shared a glance.

“I have an uncle who owns a print shop who lent the keys and the design makes itself when you listen to heartbreak-legends like Marina and Ari during the process. As for hanging them up,” A half-grin unfurled on his lips. “Let’s say the school’s night guard still owes me a couple favors.”

“Isn’t he the kid that dropped out the year he was supposed to graduate?”

“Yeah, who do you think got him the job.”

Mark stared at the younger in disbelief, shaking his head as he placed his regard back to picking on his mediocre sandwich. The fact that a mere spark of an idea seemed to just fall into place so seamlessly made Renjun feel the closest to joy he had in days, the sweet thrill of high school spirit effectively sticking a band aid to his bruised, aching heart. He shot an inconspicuous glance towards Jeno’s table, immediately averting it again when he saw Na Jaemin’s face directed right back at him. So much for inconspicuous. He unceremoniously rejoined the chatter of his friends, which had bizarrely swayed to the topic of genetically conditioned tongue shapes.

When Chenle arrived to their chosen headquarters with what looked like a small crowd, even Renjun wasn’t short of a smug and prideful grin.

“Delivery!” Chenle piped, and the people started sprawling out amongst the classroom, some clustering, others off by themselves, but each somewhat assembled into a circular shape and murmuring away.

Renjun asserted his position with a hem. “Welcome students, to DNYL. Be aware this isn’t just a place to talk shit about exes,” A student got up from one of the tables, leaving the classroom, Renjun continuing without a beat. “But a place to unwind and forget about them. Here we go by a few simple rules,” He theatrically whipped out a piece of paper with a pointed list on it. “Point one, do not glorify love. We’re here because love can suck it, frankly, so this one should go without saying. Second point – no crying. No one’s worth that shit, no exes, no current boy or girlfriends, no crush, just, suck it up. We don’t mourn these sorts of disappointments. Point three, good vibes. Pretty self-explanatory, basically don’t be fucking dicks, alright. No one’s a bully here, no one shames the other, no one picks fights. As long as you follow these,” His eyes sternly scanned the crowd. “DNYL welcomes you with open arms.”

“Then what do we do here,” A female student cut in, Renjun recognizing her from Calculus last year. “What’s the point of this club? How is this not a big waste of my time, I have a GPA to uphold. Why should I, or anyone be here?”

Fending off irritation with smugness, Renjun replied. “Glad you asked,” He raised his voice a notch. “In celebration of the founding of this club, we are going to host an initiation party this Friday, 7 p.m., address will be passed along members throughout the week, drinks will be provided. Which brings me to another rule,” Renjun’s gaze hardened again. “Snitches, my loves, get stitches. This is a club for the students, and I expect everyone to return the courtesy. Clear?”

The room had broken out into murmurs once more, Renjun throwing an inquiring glance Mark’s way who gave him the quiet thumbs up. Renjun felt over the moon. No, he felt powerful, in control, and he couldn’t suppress the smile on his face when calculus gave him the nod of approval after having counselled with her friends. Renjun knew exactly what they were out for, and really, he wouldn’t want it any different – students were like attracted to the exclusivity like moths were to light, and the prospect of parties was precisely what it took to sway them. Since the seniors who used to throw the parties around school had graduated, there had been dead silence in the outer school activity department, apart from the occasional stoner party that the general school body rarely liked to frequent. Parties meant things happening, chaos, drama, sex, alcohol. All the socially acceptable forbidden, and Renjun felt like he held the bucket of treats in his very hands.

“Uh, Renjun,” Mark pointed at the door, unease suddenly washing over his features. For a moment Renjun was absolutely convinced the spell was about to be broken by them being busted by a teacher on their very first assembly, when he turned his head to ascertain it something almost worse.

“You.”

Renjun stomped to the door in fast strides, promptly aiming for the color as to drag Jeno outside into the hallway – merely to discover that it only got worse from there. He forced out an incredulous laugh.

“This has to be the joke of the fucking century. You show up here, and then you have the fucking audacity to bring your new boytoy along!?” He swore he could’ve strangled Jeno when he saw whose mien flash with hurt, he would’ve. He really would’ve.

“I didn’t know you would be behind this.”

“Well, surprise, I fucking am, now get the fuck out of here because you two aren’t welcome.”

Jeno’s eyes narrowed, but he said no more apart from a subdued “Let’s go Jaemin.” before he turned down the hallway with one last look, one that Renjun would gladly refuse to decipher, ever. A rage boiled at the pit of his gut, a rage that he knew to be not solely rage, but mixed with something else, something he wouldn’t own up to, something far less badass – sadness.

When Renjun finally turned to return to the classroom, he startled when he found Mark standing there, arms folded in front of his chest giving him an odd once over.

“What!?” Renjun’s arms flew up momentarily, and for a moment he contemplated simply pushing past Mark without giving him the courtesy of saying what he so evidently had lying on the tip of his tongue, but Mark didn’t say anything. And while part of Renjun was eternally relieved at Mark turning around to walk ahead into the classroom, another was devastated at his friend having witnessed what he was perhaps struggling to admit to himself, being that he was wounded, terribly so, and now Mark knew.

And Renjun was aware that if Mark knew about something, he would hear of it time and time again.

By the time Friday rolled around, word was out at the entire school about the most anticipated event of the year, possibly in school’s history. Tainted were the whispers during lessons, were the notes that they passed, were the lunch chatter and locker room hollers with the topic of DNYL’s official initiation party, and Renjun was living in the midst of it all.

Renjun arrived at Chenle’s house two hours early to help with preparations, which he was surprised to find out were already taken care of for the most part – Jisung having waggled his magic wand and gotten them discount on a catering service, compliments of a distant cousin, or perhaps a friend of a cousin, Renjun wouldn’t keep track. He left little time to dazzle himself up, resorting to a hint of brown liner and some gel to style his hair up nicely along with a white wide-cut shirt that he loosely tucked into his regular jeans. Soon enough the house was swamped with students, and Renjun made his way through the crowd to find his friends lounging on the stairs, Mark looking like his soul had left his body and Renjun had a suspicious inkling of the cause, additionally judging by the way Chenle and Jisung were dramatically fake fanning whose deadpan guise.

“He’s here, isn’t he,” Renjun pressed his lips into a line, patting his friend’s shoulder sympathetically.

Chenle leaned in. “He’s wearing leather pants. And lipgloss,” He shot a brief, pitiful glance towards Mark. “This one asked him if he’d like a drink although he was already holding one in his hand.”

“Awk,” Jisung supplied, Mark finally moving to run his palms over his face.

“I need to get a drink.”

“I need to get a drink,” Renjun mimicked, trailing the older when he lastly jumped up from his seat to maneuver through the masses towards the kitchen.

He was waiting for Mark to fix himself a rum and coke, when he noticed a pair of eyes unabashedly giving him a once-over, this particular pair of eyes belonging to someone that Renjun had never spotted at school, nor elsewhere. He was handsome, a cocky vibe about him with a few strands of blonde hair lazily hanging into his vision and the rest effortlessly styled up, coyly sitting on the edge of the spacious kitchen counter whilst sipping on a red solo cup. Right in front of him was Renjun’s plan to forget about Jeno for the night.

“Hey,” The stranger nodded in Renjun’s direction. “What’s your poison?”

“Tequila,” Renjun replied. He wasn’t keen on having to wait to be drunk.

The guy jumped from the counter, rounding its corner to fetch a bottle from one of the cabinets. “Spicy,” He said while pouring a shot that Renjun assumed to be his. “I like it.”

“Thanks,” Renjun accepted the glass and promptly downed it, a familiar tingling warmth unfurling in his stomach. “I haven’t seen your face before.”

“Is it a nice one?” Oh, this one oozed smugness out of every nook of his bearing. “Just kidding, I don’t go to your school. Friend brought me along.”

“Where is your friend now?”

“Somewhere. Why? Am I not enough?”

On normal occasion Renjun would’ve been at his nth eyeroll, but he was trying to accomplish something here, whatever that may be, whereas it certainly wasn’t Renjun aggressively shoving any lingering notions of his ex out of his mind with some stereotypical hot white boy rebound. Never.

“Very funny,” Renjun deadpanned, instead.

“I sometimes like to think that I am. My friends also tend to say I’m quite honest, so let me be frank to you,” He took a step towards Renjun, the latter suppressing the urge to mirror and instinctively move back. “You’re very nice to look at.”

“You’re not so bad yourself.”

The boy chuckled, a hand rising to cup at Renjun’s face and Renjun was rather certain that it wasn’t early enough to accredit the sudden nausea rising from the pit of his gut to the one shot he had so far, but he damn sure was going to do it anyway. Practically watching the guy lean in with what appeared to be some newly acquired slow motion vision, Renjun lastly took a small step backwards, prompting the boy’s brows to perk up and give him a look that wasn’t short of puzzlement.

“Did I…?”

“No, no,” Renjun waved his hands apologetically. “It’s not your fault, I’m just. I’m not feeling too well.”

“I mean, to be fair, I was pretty forward,” The other smiled. “But it would be a shame if this is the last impression you have of me, because you’re really cute.”

A faint blush fanned over the highs of Renjun’s cheeks at that and he mustered a smile back. “I’m Renjun.”

“Harvey.” He held out a hand for good measure, Renjun shaking it carefully, yet amicably. “Since I don’t want to overstep any boundaries, how would you feel about giving me your number so we could discuss your terms without any hurry?”

Renjun appreciated the sentiment, he really did, and because he appreciated it so much he promptly whipped out his phone to hand it to the no-longer stranger so he could enter his number, entirely forcing aside the comfortlessness swimming within him that was nonetheless making him inconceivably tense and apologetic. The guy probably just wanted to hook up and now Renjun was forcing him to put up with his prudish moodiness. Great.

Renjun accepted his phone back with a slightly forced, grateful smile, turning towards the exit of the kitchen to find Mark standing there, seemingly having monitored the exchange whilst inconspicuously sipping on his drink, and Renjun thought about how much he was starting to hate his friend being attester to his rapidly accumulating recent moments of weakness. What he almost hated even more was the way that Mark simply spun around to disappear into the buzzing of the crowd wordlessly, which Renjun knew to be saying something considering Mark never just didn’t comment on things. Particularly things of such scandalous nature. Renjun poured himself another shot before heading towards the other room.

It was well past 10 p.m., the party still going at its full peak when shit started going down, so to speak. Renjun was at the very least five more shots deep, his surroundings gradually drifting into a delightful spin. It was in the midst of a game of Kings Cup on Chenle’s living room carpet and of Renjun jovially slumping against some guy next to him, that his gaze wandered to the doorframe, to remain there, locked onto the timid guise entering the premises and a dizzying wrath took over Renjun, so much that it initially had him frozen until he leapt up brusquely to approach the figure with fitful footfalls.

Jeno saw him coming.

“What the fuck is your problem!?”

People turned towards them, even drunk off his ass Renjun could tell that all the attention was on him within an instant, and yet, he couldn’t bring himself to care. Now that might’ve been a side effect of intoxication.

“Renjun, calm down, I don’t–”

“Don’t you fucking dare tell me to calm down when you got the fucking, the fucking nerve to show up here when I told you I don’t want to ever fucking see your cheating ass again! Which, speaking of,” Renjun’s eyes narrowed, arms linking in front of his chest in a defying stance. “Did you not bring your new boyfriend with you today? Seems like this would be the perfect date location, a fun party where you can sneak off into one of the bedrooms and–”

“Renjun!” Jeno cut in at the reference of a shared memory, tone having turned alarmingly hard and brows tugged into a deep, glowering frown. Never had Renjun been on the receiving end of a look like that, especially not from patient angel Lee Jeno, yet his gears were continuously turning by virtue of the fuel pumping through his veins and there didn’t seem to be a stopping his mouth from running on.

“You said he’s a childhood friend, a fucking childhood friend who everyone knows has been dying to suck your dick for fucking ever and you had the audacity to tell me I’m delusional! Me! Delusional! Even after I catch you guys practically cuddling up to each other at Mark’s party, because I trusted you. I trusted you, Jeno!”

Renjun hated it. Hated that he could feel the hot tears starting to gather up at the corners of his eyes again, hated that he couldn’t even perceive the crowd around them anymore, hated that he could faintly hear his best friends mumbling frantic apologies as they hurriedly made their way through it, and he hated that even after all things considered, Renjun couldn’t hate Jeno.

So apparently it had come to the point where the only rational solution appeared to be that he had to make Jeno despise him.

“If you’d only stop and not yell at me every time you see me to calmly let me explain what happened, we wouldn’t be having to carry our conflict out into the open like this. I told myself to give you space, heck, Jaemin was the one who told me to try and keep pushing and to come here tonight to see if I could catch you alone while you’re in a better mood, but–”

“Well boo-fucking-hoo, sorry to disappoint.” Renjun glared at him, wetness blurring his vision as he suddenly started perceiving a light tug on his right arm, then a more forceful tug, and then Renjun was brusquely faced with Mark’s concerned face.

“Renjun, enough.”

“It’s enough when this bumbling buffoon gets into his head that I don’t want him looking for me ever again.”

“That won’t be a problem anymore.”

Renjun turned to look at Jeno, something unreadable playing on the younger’s features as his gaze lingered some place on the marble flooring before it reverted back to Renjun with a grave mien.

“I won’t be chasing you anymore,” He headed towards the door, with one last look back mumbling an inexpressive “Have a good life.” that made Renjun’s gut seethe with all sorts of unresolved emotion, and next thing he knew he was sprinting through the masses to rid the bile that was rising in his pharynx – Mark and Chenle in tow.

“You know you’ll have to talk about it at some point, right?” Mark said, sitting on the edge of the bathtub that they had just chased a straight couple out of while Renjun was puking out the entirety of his body’s contents. Feelings included.

At least that’s what it felt like.

Renjun saw Jeno at school the following week. As much clumsy conviction as Renjun had gathered by the time his train wreck of a weekend was over, that he was fine, just really drunk, and possibly a little bit pressed, still, his heart wouldn’t keep itself from jerking in his chest when he saw Jeno waiting in front of one of his classes, keen to make up for the scene he had caused at the party. Despite his being riddled with bitterness, he knew his behavior to have been out of line, and if not for Jeno’s then for his conscience’s sake he was convinced he had to set the record straight.

Yet when he approached Jeno, pride reluctantly set aside with what was a mere hint of a frown, the younger immediately deadpanned, expression rigid.

“Don’t you worry, I’m done bothering you.”

Renjun was about to retort, when Jaemin skipped out of the classroom behind Renjun, notorious thousand-watt smile plastered onto whose facies.

“Jeno!” Renjun wanted to melt into thin air. “And– Renjun.”

Not wanting to subject himself to the situation for even a second longer, Renjun turned on his heel and skated down the hallway, an ugly, scorching feeling gnawing its way up towards his throat and suddenly he felt like crying all over again but this time he was sober and managed to fight the urge with all his might, the threat of tears spilling gone by the time he reached his next class, yet the feeling ever persistent. He hated Lee Jeno. He hated Jeno, and he hated Jaemin’s dumb, brilliant smile and what it made Jeno do, what it made Jeno do to him. No, this was all Jeno’s fault. It was Jeno’s fault for lying to him about there not being anything between him and Jaemin, about their sleepover, about many more things, probably, and Renjun cursed the day he agreed to be his boyfriend in the first place. Fuck Lee Jeno.

“We need to talk.”

Renjun was sitting at their usual lunch table, waiting for his friends to join him from their classes when a voice which ring was all too familiar to him startled him into one of his earplugs falling out.

“What?”

“We need to talk,” Jaemin repeated, mien earnest and stance uncomfortably intrusive in that typical Na Jaemin manner that made Renjun lean backwards in his seat.

“I don’t have anything to say to you.”

“Well, I have a few things to say to you and you’re going to listen.”

Jaemin slid down into the seat in front of him, Renjun’s expression nothing short of appalled at the action yet nonetheless not finding it in him to protest other than with a menacing glare that the other appeared to effectively discount.

“You need to talk to Jeno.”

“What do you care?”

“Jeno is my friend, I care.”

“Your friend, yeah. I know that much,” Renjun theatrically rolled his eyes sideways, making no attempt to hide his irritation.

“No, not like that. You can’t be acting like this forever. You need to listen to me and you need to fucking start listening to him. You two have been in a relationship for ten months and this is how you treat him? The guy would probably die for you and you wouldn’t even talk to him when he’s been nothing but trying his best to reach through to you because that’s what you do when there’s tension.”

“I’d like to say that this could barely just be considered tension,” Renjun hissed, nonetheless quieting after to let Jaemin continue.

“You’re right. It’s not just tension, it’s madness. Jeno let me stay over that day because my parents are going through some tough times and I needed a friend, someone familiar, who knows how much this would affect me. Next thing I know you’re telling the whole cafeteria that your boyfriend cheated on you, toss a drink at him and walk off to never let anyone explain shit to you. Do you consider that fair?”

The furrow in between Renjun’s brows remained tense and deeply seated, however, he couldn’t keep himself from weighing Jaemin’s words, gaze drifting off, pondering, almost shamefully.

“Ever since that day Jeno has been beating himself up like crazy, he was going to go to your house but I told him the drive isn’t worth getting the door slammed in his face so he should wait till the next day to go after you, but God did I underestimate what a fucking diehard you are. I know I haven’t always been a fair player when it came to your relationship,” Renjun’s eyes returned to Jaemin to shoot him a glare that was the physical manifestation of an incredulous oh really? “But this isn’t about me. Frankly, I’m over playing these childish games and you need to grow the fuck up. The reason I’m not going after him this very moment is because the dude loves you, God knows why, and I know there’d be no point in chasing a man who’s got eyes for another person. Dude, he’s got your whole future planned out! God’s sake, you need to fucking step up.”

Renjun muted for a few, heavy-weighing moments before raising his voice in a mere rueful mumble. “I can’t.”

Jaemin grimaced. “What do you mean you can’t? Do you not love him?”

Renjun kept silent. How was he supposed to tell Jaemin out of all people that what he was being eaten up by was the profound, retching feeling of shame, that the desperate feeling of wanting nothing more than to cling onto his pride was conflicting with the inexorable reality that Jeno had a grasp on him, on his heart, his emotions, it was a daunting thought to Renjun that the minutest of hunches regarding his boyfriend could evoke such explosive behavior on his end. Frankly, Renjun had never stopped being scared. Paranoid that he might be too attached, too emotionally invested that it’d eventually end up getting him so hurt that he’d simply stop subsisting, the apprehension and constant reminders whenever he witnessed his boyfriend being flirted with gnawing at his insides uncomfortably, like a time bomb threatening to go off any day and it just so happened that his fears have yielded fruit in the form of Jaemin.

He didn’t know how to tell Jaemin all that. He couldn’t bear to speak it out loud to begin with. “You don’t understand.”

Jaemin momentarily rolled back his head to heave out a bitter laugh. “Oh, I do understand now.”

With that Jaemin promptly pushed himself up with the table top, abandoning Renjun with a vacant expression on his face and subjected to his deafeningly disquiet thoughts.

Two DNYL club meetings go by before Renjun decided to speak to Mark.

What had initially felt so empowering and liberating, had turned into a painstakingly languid process of attempting to have the next event accommodate every person in the room since Chenle’s parents were to stay in the city for a little while, queries on when the next party was to happen flooding Renjun’s ears on almost a daily basis at that point, little consideration for the fact that he himself was yet to recover from the fiasco of the first one. DNYL was what he initially wanted it to be – a monster that sprouted with vitality and refused to cave and let him sit out and breathe, but he supposed that he had chosen this himself and he once more cursed his impulsivity for putting him in situations like these.

“…and then I told him to go fuck himself, because my body is not for him to take whenever its convenient for him and it certainly isn’t doesn’t serve as his revenge rebound.”

The girl finished off the last confession of the day, the round animatedly hollering and Chenle clapping along excitedly before raising his voice above them with ease. “Ok guys, the next event is in planning so keep your ears and eyes out for the notice! I’ll see you next time!”

He flashed everyone who passed him in exit a jubilant grin. Renjun appreciated Chenle. He really did, Chenle and his relentless enthusiasm for high school politics and social gatherings and his never-depleting radiant smiles. Renjun had been sitting on the sidelines for the entirety of the gathering, slumped forward against the backing of a chair with his arms folded atop to rest his head in, his energy levels dull in comparison to Chenle’s persisting sprouting nature. Yeah, thank God for Chenle.

“Renjun.”

Renjun startled out of his train of thought, swiftly scanning the room to discern that it had become entirely devoid of people save Mark and Chenle, who was waiting by the door.

This seemed to be happening a lot lately. Him not being able to stay grounded in his surroundings, adrift in thoughts. Mark gave him a concerned look.

“Chenle, you go ahead,” He said, turning towards the younger who countered with a brief nod before exiting into the hallway, trailing the echo of the moving crowd.

Usually, even if merely out of reflex, Renjun would shoot his friend a glare at the prospect of what he was about to do, but frankly, Renjun was tired. Tired and perhaps waiting for a chance to catch Mark alone and through some weird best friend telepathy, Mark had heard him and he pulled out a chair to sit down facing the younger, expression wearing something warm, something familiar and trustworthy which almost sufficed already in making Renjun tear up, but only almost. Maybe this was what Jaemin meant.

“What is it?”

Renjun didn’t realize that he had been staring at his friend the whole time, not uttering a single word since the latter had sat down. Time was a weird concept, he thought, and he was finding it increasingly difficult to keep track of how much of it was passing as they sat there in silence.

“Mark,” Renjun rasped out, immediately feeling the tears prick at his eyes. “I think I fucked up.”

Mark was quick to reach forward to grasp Renjun’s hand, eyebrows tugging into a careworn frown as he squeezed it lightly, his silence prompting Renjun to continue.

“I was so scared he would do this to me one day that when Jisung told me I didn’t even question it. I didn’t question it, almost as if I anticipated it would happen. I didn’t know how, I just, I started seeing red, I felt so hurt, and then, just like that everything was over and it shocked me how fast it happened. As if it was always meant to happen anyway. Even being with Jeno, I just can’t help but feel like he deserves so much better? Like, look how I’ve been treating him now, I’m such a shit boyfriend, I can’t even look at him.”

Renjun buried his face in his arms momentarily to subdue a sob threatening to jolt out of his body. Never had he felt so pathetic, and while he knew Mark wouldn’t ever find it in him to judge Renjun, or anyone, simply because of the kind of person he was, Renjun couldn’t help but feel such a profound feeling of shame bubbling in the pit of his stomach. It made him feel sick. He made himself feel sick.

“Renjun, listen to me,” Renjun couldn’t bear to look at his friend full on, so he kept half his face hidden in the crook of his arm. “I’m not going to lie to you, I kind of had a feeling there was a bit more to it the whole time, but I didn’t bring it up because I trusted that you would eventually figure it out yourself. Because you’re smart like that. Your emotions are so strong that it frankly scares me sometimes, but that also means you deal with them, in your own way. You don’t keep things inside, that’s just not you. And maybe trying so hard to keep things inside, being something that you aren’t, is exactly what has brought this upon your relationship. You need to start telling him what’s bothering you, Renjun. Shutting him out is not going to make you happy, nor is it going to help Jeno try to keep up with you. He’s not a bad guy, you know. At least not from what I’ve seen.”

Mark stilled, and Renjun could feel his friend’s eyes on him so he finally decided to look up.

“You cursed him too.”

“Because you’re my friend and also I fear the wrath of your tiny fists,” Mark chuckled, and Renjun couldn’t help but go along. “Besides, I knew you’d figure it out. As suspicious as I was of Jeno since that day at my party, I also need to respect how diligently he cleaned up after himself. He even came to me after to ask for advice.”

Renjun’s ears perked up at that. “He did?”

“Yeah. He asked what he should do to make it up to you, and told me how scared he was of losing you. I might not be the best judge of character here, but he seemed very sincere to me at the time.” Mark smiled and Renjun’s gaze wandered off again, contemplating. “I made sure to give him hell though, everyone knew Jaemin was out to destroy you two so I wasn’t going to just give him a free pass for being oblivious. Not cool.”

“Not cool,” Renjun mimicked, the hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Thank you, Mark,” He rubbed his eyes with the hem of his longsleeve. “For being my friend.”

Mark snorted. “Nothing to thank me for. But to repay me you could maybe help me figure out what my first text to Donghyuck should be.”

Renjun’s mouth flew slightly open in awe. “You mean you got…?”

“At the party, yeah. He gave it to me,” A wide grin spread over his features, the highs of his already pronounced cheeks pulling up all the more. “Alcohol really does wonders.”

“Oh my God. Our baby is growing up.”

Mark gave his elbow a light push. “Hey!”

They spent the next hour or so formulating what would be Mark’s ultimate wooing strategy.

Renjun didn’t know what came over him when he found himself at Jeno’s front door on a lukewarm Sunday evening, but it probably had to do with him lying in his bed and staring at the ceiling of his room for what felt like hours without being able to rid the insistent urge to just do something to make him stop feeling the way he did. His impulsivity evidently served many purposes. He had vaguely prepared what might be a good apology speech on the bus ride there, passionate speeches always sort of having been a strong forte of his when yet he couldn’t help but feel completely stranded going into this regardless.

Jeno wasn’t a crowd of impressionable, rowdy youths who were keen on the persuasion that Renjun had so triumphantly supplied. Jeno was Jeno.

Renjun almost swallowed his tongue upon watching Jeno’s expression flash from a mien of surprise to one of visible aggravation, then to one of not nearly as concerning tired annoyance.

“What do you want?”

Renjun swallowed, gaze dropping onto the tips of his feet, however, forcing himself to look the other in the face before he spoke. “I need– I need to apologize to you.”

He didn’t miss the action of Jeno’s eyes narrowing just the slightest. “You need to or you want to?”

“Both.” He bit his lip, briefly weighing his words before sending them out. “I shouldn’t have acted the way I did, at the party. Or at the cafeteria that day. I was so– You didn’t deserve to be treated that way,” His fists balled tightly and his stomach churned, struggling to keep his eyes ahead as he pushed on. “I was always so…scared you’d just walk out on me one day, I couldn’t think when I heard. My mind went blank and all I could see was what I had already painted out for myself for the past few months and I just. I hurt you,” He looked at Jeno, really looked at him and his dark eyes that were so unusually hard, but still so warm and familiar. He thought he definitely knew what Jaemin meant. “I’m sorry, Jeno.”

A silence hung upon them for the next few moments, Renjun looking at Jeno, and Jeno looking back with an unreadable gaze that frankly made Renjun feel like there was a trap door in the floor beneath his feet that was going to open up and swallow him next thing he knew. It was weird being on the other side like this. Usually when Renjun came over, he didn’t perceive what now felt like a physical threshold, a barrier to keep him out of the house that had become like a second home to him. He wished he had calculated the losses beforehand, the many tokens of familiarity and comfort that had been an essential part of his everyday life that were now pushed onto the other side of a wall that he had built himself, all by virtue of his irrational fear of losing them in the first place. Yet despite the memories of Jeno’s mom bringing them lemonade while they studied together, of climbing on the roof at night to test what it would feel like to be a romantic movie cliché, of drawing random objects in Jeno’s room while Jeno was still fast asleep to pass the time, of Jeno kissing the top of Renjun’s head when he could tell Renjun was trying to seem like he wasn’t upset about something – on top of all, Renjun missed Jeno. Whether or not those memories could be salvaged or not wasn’t a priority, not really, so he kept his eyes locked on the other, watching his features move in all the ways that were familiar and reminded Renjun that he knew Jeno and reminded him that he didn’t have to know Jaemin to ascertain what Jeno would do.

“You need to learn to fucking listen, Injoon,” Was what Jeno finally said, Renjun’s eyes faintly flickering with newfound hope. “You especially need to listen when I tell you to talk to me about what’s going through your head. You always seem to wage a war inside and whenever something happens I have to be scared it’ll just,” He gestured with his hands. “Hit everything around you and then no one can get through to you anymore. I should’ve told you that Jaemin is staying over the night before, I realize that, but you were already asleep and I would’ve explained to you when I saw you at school the next day before you’d even have to say a thing and that would’ve been the end of it! It’s so baffling to me how you can blow up without the slightest warning I just. I wish you would’ve told me, Injoon.”

Renjun watched the exasperation on Jeno’s face, glassy eyed and at a lack of a response that’d feel appropriate. So he just said “Sorry,” once more, taken aback by how it came out as a mere whisper.

Jeno took a step back. “I don’t know what else to tell you.”

A panic took over Renjun at the prospect of Jeno disappearing through the door again, and it incipiently urged him to follow in step, however, he checked himself the instant after and ascertained that he had to give Jeno space, so he remained put.

“I’m really sorry, Jeno.” He reiterated once more, the sound of it akin to a goodbye this time and Jeno nodded, tight-lipped, lastly stepping inside and closing the door behind him. Despite him having received what felt like the worst telling-off of his life, Renjun felt an odd sense of calm wash over him as he stood on Jeno’s doorstep. The notion of actually losing him was a bitter sting, but less bitter than doing so by his initial assumption which would’ve permanently tarnished Jeno’s image in his mind along with it all the happy memories they had shared before this fiasco went down. Jeno was still Jeno, with or without him, and the reassurance that it would forever remain that way made a warmth bloom within the very midst of his core.

But while that contentedness in itself was a pleasant surprise, he was also sad. Incredibly and seemingly irremediably sad, as he ultimately turned around to find his way back to the bus stop.

Word about the next DNYL party traveled double the velocity than the first time around, their reputation having received a significant boost after their initial success and Chenle and Jisung extended their notorious party planning services to found an entire committee that took charge of various aspects of the preparation process, Renjun watching from the sidelines as the two sternly ordered around a small crowd of underlings as if they were born to do so. He was only half paying attention, frequently zoning out and shifting his focus from the street outside Chenle’s window to the many objects being hauled into the house. Chenle had pretty much taken charge of DNYL at that point, but Renjun liked to at least provide the courtesy of being present and somewhat showing his support in light of the fact that it was initially his idea and Chenle was helping him take the rap without so much as a complaint, let alone that it was either this or spending the afternoon in his room all by himself feeling void, when yet healing. But void nonetheless.

Part of healing involved making himself feel good, and with that spirit Renjun had decided to indulge in some minor preparation for tonight as well. He had borrowed a black blouse from his older brother, who was happy to assist Renjun if it forced the younger abandon his room for a little while and in addition, he also offered to do Renjun’s make-up which he was initially going to skip on because temperatures were starting to raise to inhumane levels of heat, but Sicheng insisted that he at least take the highlight to Chenle’s place so he could apply it himself when the threat of it melting off his face upon applying was effectively gone.

Renjun kept his promise and dabbed some of it onto his nose and the highs of his cheeks when the time for finishing touches came, already having applied a hint of lip tint and dark red liner ahead and he checked himself out in the body mirror situated in Chenle’s spacious top story bedroom, a fleeting boost of confidence conjuring a weak smile onto his facies before he perceived a faint knock on the door.

“Renjun, Chenle asking for you.”

Renjun brusquely swung the door open, startling his friend into jolting backwards, Mark’s eyes promptly widening upon getting a proper glimpse of his face and stilling for a moment before gradually raising both his thumbs in approval, a broad smile tugging at his equally handsome features that automatically compelled Renjun to mirror, when yet not without a blatant hint of bashfulness.

“Thanks,” Was all he managed to mutter before he scooted past Mark and into the hallway to the stairs, eyes scanning the vast entrance area for a platinum head of hair. Some people had already started to befall the premises with their uproarious chatter, Renjun spotting Chenle amidst a round of his committee members holding what appeared to be an attempt at spirit uplifting hazing, and suddenly Renjun wasn’t sure if he was so keen on complying with Chenle’s calling upon his presence, promptly settling on taking a quick roundabout detour to the kitchen to make himself a drink.

The buzz within the house grew rowdier by the minute it seemed, Renjun sipping on his second Malibu sunrise mixture by the second hour and occasionally pushing himself to interact with the one or other familiar face if just for the sake of not holing himself up in some corner out of what may look like self-pity from the outside, but really manifested in the sudden realization that he wasn’t particularly in a party mood. He wasn’t mourning anymore, by no means, while Jeno still occupied a prominent fraction of his mind Renjun had started to find significant benefits in the solitude his being single provided, particularly in terms of addressing his emotions that used to be so overwhelming he found there was no healthy outlet to effectively translate and study them, until it became gradually more perspicuous to him how it was impossible to rush these sorts of matters. Spending grand amounts of quality time with his friends was also a major contributor to his process of acquiring insightfulness, and he periodically attempted to express his gratitude, if not explicitly then with the act of further opening himself up to their advice, so much that at moments he almost found himself grateful for how things had turned out, yet only almost, and only scarcely.

He still really missed Jeno.

“Hey Renjun,” Renjun startled at the sound of the familiar voice, and he shocked himself once more by not countering the greeting with a vitriolic remark.

“Hi Jaemin.” He mustered the hint of a smile, which the younger returned. He suppressed the urge to question whether the boy had come alone.

“Heard what you did,” Renjun bit his lip at the notion who from, but his demeanor towards the younger didn’t budge, at least not visibly. “Glad you did it. T’was really mature.”

“Thank you, Jaemin.”

“I also have something to tell you,” Jaemin’s head whipped around to look behind him briefly, face pulled into what Renjun interpreted as a bewildered grimace when he faced towards him again. “Well, not me. There’s some guy waiting on the terrace asking for you. Looks greasy.”

Renjun froze momentarily, an almost forgotten face with green eyes and blonde hair whose messages he had been actively ignoring popping back into his mind.

Oh boy.

“Ah, not sure if I should–”

“He sounded like it was urgent.”

Renjun’s brow perked up in confusion at that, struggling for a plausible basis for this guy to inquire his attention so suddenly. If his memory didn’t delude him, he had a somewhat clear image of giving away his number. Perhaps he had lost it, or been too drunk to remember receiving it in the first place.

“Alright, I guess,” He bid Jaemin goodbye with a brief nod and an amicable “See you around.”

Renjun smoothly maneuvered his way through the sea of people, preliminarily crafting a careful string of excuses before ultimately setting on simply telling the truth, if not for the sake of respecting the guy’s pride considering he had been nothing short of courteous towards him, then at the very least in celebration of the steady path of self-growth Renjun had recently embarked on in light of recent events. He climbed the stairs to the second floor, finding it to be considerably more quiet which initially struck him with a rapidly growing sense of anxiety, because what if it turned out the dude wasn’t as friendly as he initially anticipated, involuntarily taking into account that he was literally about to deliver news of practically having intended to use him to get over his ex-boyfriend, but he attempted to shove that notion away, finding a bit of relief in the spotting of a group of people playing truth or dare in one of the upstairs guest rooms.

Renjun’s heart pounded heavily in his ears for some reason, breath reaching abrupt deadlock in his throat when he finally slid open the glass door and slipped outside at the very last, a brisk breeze sending a chill down his spine and he halted.

On the empty terrace of Chenle’s million dollar mansion sat Jeno, propped against the railing in a sort of boyish manner and Renjun’s first thought was of course, and obviously Jaemin’s acting skills were nothing short of disgustingly brilliant. But that didn’t linger.

What lingered was the look that Jeno shot him upon his registering Renjun’s presence, a permeating, yet soothing sentiment swimming in those brown orbs and for a while it effectively eliminated any remnant feelings of unease.

“Hey,” Jeno started, voice light.

“Hi,” Renjun responded, taking a cautious step forward as if to test whether Jeno would budge. He didn’t. “Why did you ask to see me?”

Jeno patted the spot next to him, and Renjun felt relief, having to remind himself that he couldn’t just ease himself into that spring of emotion. He slid onto the floor next to the other. Moments passed, then minutes, and Renjun weighted the possibility of them sitting there, eyes lost in the barely visible sprinkle of stars in utter silence being all that was to transpire, and somehow he found contentment in that. At least he wouldn’t have to worry about his mouth running in all sorts of uncharted directions, and luckily once the time came around, Jeno took the courtesy of setting the direction for him like ever so often.

“You really pulled something off here, huh.”

“What?” Renjun’s head turned towards the younger.

“DNYL. A lot of people seem to speak very highly of your club.”

Renjun wanted to snort. “It’s not really…my club.”

Jeno looked at him quizzically. “Not? But–”

“I founded it, yes. But I didn’t make it what it is, that’s all Chenle’s doing. They have him to thank. My motivations for making it were…”

He stilled.

“Were what?” Jeno appeared genuinely curious.

“I was trying to spite you.”

Renjun’s eyes dropped to the flooring and he pulled his knees towards his chest, arms laxly resting atop. He didn’t want to see the expression on Jeno’s face, not if he wanted to clear the slate and get it all out there before he’d cave at what a horrible person he had been.

“I thought that if I made a successful club with the sole purpose of spiting love and relationships, you’d somehow find out about it and get. I don’t know. Agitated? Annoyed? Not that that’s something you’d actually do. I just needed something to shove into your face for what you did, or, what I thought you did, as if that’d magically fill the hole inside of me. As much as Chenle spoke in favor of making this some dumb big cliché vigilante high school club, I think he was the one who really turned it into something that people look forward to attending. He somehow flipped my negative intentions around and created something uplifting. I could never be leader – not after what I pulled at the last party. Not after what I did to you. I humiliated you and myself and I didn’t even care because I was so blinded with hate. And Jaemin,” His bottom lip caught in between his teeth for a brief instant. “Without him it would’ve taken me forever to snap out of it.”

Renjun turned to Jeno finally, momentarily startled when he discovered the younger was looking at him for what appeared to be the entire duration of him talking. Another moment of silence passed between them, Renjun struggling to decrypt whatever was running through Jeno’s head as his expression was captured by a steady sense of serenity that made Renjun all the more perplexed. Was he to get up and leave? Was he to wait until Jeno would tell him to? Did the younger actually have anything to say to him at all?

Jeno exhaled, Renjun catching the movement in the peripheral of his eyes as they remained glued to the flooring.

“I appreciate the explanation,” Jeno said, calmly. “I kind of assumed after what happened that first time.” Something in Renjun’s chest twisted at the memory. “But I should probably tell you that the only reason I went in the first place is because I thought I’d get some advice on how to deal with heartbreak.”

Renjun turned to look at him, puzzled at that statement. “You what?”

“I told you I didn’t know the club was your idea. None of the posters said, and Jaemin convinced me it was a good idea after I– Well. Yeah.” He hemmed lightly, the look on his face flashing with hints of abashment that Renjun was extremely glad he caught. “Jaemin was a really good friend these past weeks. You should give him a chance.”

“Figured,” Renjun quipped, and Jeno smiled a beautiful smile, the first one Renjun had seen in what felt like forever.

“As much as I wanted to be mad at you for not letting me speak to you I was just so. So desperate? I knew that once you’d hear the full story it’d all be water under the bridge but it just, I just couldn’t reach you at all and really, that was the thing that made me so incredibly frustrated in the end. I missed you, Injoon.”

“I’m sorry, Jeno.” Renjun looked at him, earnestly. Jeno’s gaze locked with his.

“I’m sorry too.”

The next instant Renjun found Jeno’s lips slotted onto his, and he immediately sighed into the kiss. They heavily made out for a desperate few minutes, blissfully carefree of whoever saw them and after a while Jeno leaned back to cup Renjun’s face, head limply slumping against Renjun’s shoulder, out of breath and with a smile on his face and instantaneously Renjun’s insides bloomed with the overwhelming feeling of affection.

“You’ll be the death of me.”

Renjun found it to be almost funny how quickly everything was over.

“DNYL – a place where people find love within themselves to potentially find it with someone else on the way!”

Chenle plopped his backpack on the seat next to Renjun, the older practically hearing the grin in whose blustering tone.

“Keep it down, won’t you?”

“Wow, you sound uptight for someone who has gotten laid for the first time in weeks.” Renjun shot a lethal glare at his younger friend, Chenle stopping his motion of slipping into the nearby seat and instead scooting towards the one further away from the other. He theatrically mimicked karate motions which Renjun countered with a roll of his eyes.

“But sounds cheery, no? DNYL but with a positive twist. Hate to break it to you, but the whole heartbroken crybaby cliché is starting to become kind of outdated and who knows better what the teens really want besides moí,” He pointed both thumbs at himself, Renjun having settled on entirely dismissing Chenle’s subsistence for the rest of lunch break. Mark snickered.

“At least there will finally be an end to the daily earful about Mark not being able to talk to his crush without getting soaked in sweat,” The amused expression on Mark’s face immediately twisted to one of indignation. “What! Did you in all seriousness think you’d be spared, my eyes and ears cover every ground, Mr. Lee!”

Renjun’s ears perked up at that, eyes shooting towards his other best friend. “Excuse me what?”

“Our Markington scored himself a date yesterday,” Chenle followed up his statement with a diabolical chuckle, Mark’s cheeks tinting. “Another case to back up the new brand. I’m telling you guys, you’ll make me rich!”

“But you don’t get any money…?”

“Rich in votes when I run for student president. Think big, boys.”

With that Jisung appeared at their table, and with him two others. Renjun smiled.

Jeno slipped into the seat in between Renjun and Chenle, Jaemin next to Mark and Jisung opposite of Chenle. Jeno brushed his lips against Renjun’s cheek in a brief, yet affectionate peck in greeting and the two youngest grimaced.

“Actually let me go back to the time when Renjun permanently swore off love.” Renjun’s eyes shot daggers at Chenle for what seemed like the millionth time that day. “Too soon?”

Jeno chuckled and Renjun could feel the younger sneak his hand towards his under the table, Renjun taking the liberty of intertwining their fingers.

Maybe he could stand Chenle’s relentless quips and devious smiles, and perhaps he even found delight in their existence. At least it seemed all too effortless to do so when Jeno squeezed his hand like that.

Like it was the most natural thing in the world.

#nct #nct dream #nct fanfic #noren fanfic #noren #renjun #jeno #mark #chenle #jaemin #jisung #renjun pov

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