#he did get suspended later for getting into a fight with another kid

[pitconfirmbutton]

what's in a last name | mick schumacher

pairing: mick schumacher x oc (maria senna)

was the schumacher-senna fight going to be as competitive the second time around?

word count: 4.5k words warnings: death of loved ones, motorsport accidents, anxiety

not super happy with this one but wanted to get it out for y'all. most likely will be a part 2 :)

Ayrton Senna. Champion of 3 World Driver’s titles. Winner of 41 F1 Grand Prix. Holder of 65 pole positions. Driver for Toleman Motorsport, Lotus, McLaren and Renault. Father of one. 

That one being Maria Senna. That’s me. I was born in São Paulo, Brazil on the 1st of May 1999. 5 years to the day after my father had died going into Tamburello at the Autodromo Enzo e Dino Ferrari circuit in Italy.

I know what you’re thinking, that math doesn’t make sense. You’d be correct. My mother, Adriane Galisteu and my father had decided to try for children in 1994 and were unsuccessful. Ayrton wanted to be a dad more than anything in the world and as such they organised for IVF, a sample being taken from both of them. The crash happened and my mother swore she would never have kids, unable to face the pain of seeing even a tiny bit of Ayrton in someone else, wishing to never be reminded of the loss of him.

Life went on and my mother decided that she wanted to instead honour Ayrton’s legacy and as such the samples were used and 8 months and 24 days later, I was born. Maria Clara Senna da Silva. However, for most of my life, I went by Maria Clara Galisteu, hiding in plain sight. I had grown up hearing about my father’s talents and achievements, watching all his races on television. My cousin, Bruno would watch with me, placing me in a laundry basket and giving me a plate to steer with, copying his onboard footage.

My mother disapproved vehemently, not wishing to watch another loved one enter motorsport and succumb to the same demise as Ayrton. She knew she could not stop me from wanting to honour my father and my love for what he did. As such I began karting at the age of 6, Bruno taking me to his old karting track in between his British Formula 3 season. I adored it and picked it up quickly, feeling my happiest with a radiator to my left and an engine to my right. No one in Brazil compared to my talent, except for my close friend and “teammate” Felipe Drugovich. I say teammate lightly, his father helping me as a mechanic at karting races when Bruno was away. 

Felipe and I got along like a house on fire, making our way to Europe together, both of us competing in Italian Formula 4 for the 2016 and 2017 seasons. It was here that I met some of my greatest friends; Marcus Armstrong, Juan Manuel Correa, Enzo Fittipaldi and Olli Caldwell.

It was also here that I met my biggest enemy, Mick Schumacher. I will be honest, but only because I’m telling you, I probably wouldn’t have hated him if it wasn’t for his last name. I was aware of my father’s battles with Michael, and this meant that I immediately held a grudge. I still remember him coming over to shake my hand, his bright red Prema hoodie making him impossible to miss. “Hey, it’s so nice to meet you, I’m Mick.” His hand suspended between us. “I know who you are,” was all I said, turning on my heels and walking back into the Van Amersfoort Racing trailer. “Spoilt brat” was all Mick whispered under his breath as I turned. I hadn’t told anyone who my father was and as such, I had no leg to stand on as to why I was angry at him. Chatting to Juan Manuel one day he had asked about Mick. “Why do you hate him so much?” I pushed my pasta around the bowl a bit. “I don’t hate him, he’s just so up himself.” “Wait, are we talking about the same person?” “Oh yeah, I forgot, it’s probably in your contract to protect the Prema golden boy.” “Give him a chance, Maria.” “No thanks.” 

I was meticulous, always the first driver to the track and the last one to leave. I would go over data for hours, spend time with my engineers and walk the track as much as I needed. I was a winner and I was a winner because I put in more work than anyone else. Although in 2016, I placed second, the first loser to my number one rival, Mick Schumacher. But in 2017, I won.

2018 brought on a move to the FIA Formula 3 Championship, staying with Van Amersfoort Racing. I kept my friends and I kept my discipline. The way I held myself, trained, practised and raced brought the attention of a few driver academies. Nothing would have prepared me for the email I received halfway through 2018, the header filled with papaya orange and the footer containing the speedy kiwi. “I am taking us home, dad.”

2018 involved me coming second… again, to Mick Schumacher… again. I was beyond annoyed but I was able to move up to Formula 2 for 2019, moving to Prema of all places, alongside Mick himself. I was peeved but I knew the car was fast and I knew I could ignore him like I had the last 3 years. He was not going to ruin this for me now. With my McLaren backing, I had a real shot to get to Formula 1, I needed these super license points and I was ready to do anything to get them.

“Do you ever have fun?” Mick had said as he entered our driver’s trailer, watching me highlight my data and analyse a different graph on my iPad. “It is fun, you’d find it fun too if you won more.” I quipped back. He scoffed and sat down next to me at the table. I slid my notes and data up into a pile and put it in my bag, turning to look at him, arms crossed and an unamused expression on my face. “Can I help you, Schumacher?” I straightened my back, making myself seem scarier than I was. “Yeah, you can actually! I want to know why you hate me so much! You are friends with everyone, except me. Why?” He looked exasperated, flailing his hands around in a way that I had never seen before from the usually composed and cool-headed German. “You are just so entitled, Mick! Using your last name to get you wherever you need to go! Showing it off to the world like it is something to be so smug about. You know some of us had to work to get here, right? On merit and hard work!” I had stood up, knocking my chair to the ground, pointing down at him. He stood to match me. “How dare you, Maria! I can’t help that I am my father’s son and I cannot help that I was lucky enough to have the opportunity to make it to where I am. But you know what, I would give it all up, in a single second, if it meant that I got to talk to my dad one more time. If I got to hear him say he loved me one more time. So yeah, I have the most powerful last name in Formula 1 history, but I wear it like a fucking badge of honour because every day I go out on track, I can only hope to be half the driver that he was. That is something that you will never understand.” He was breathing heavily, piercing me with his blue eyes. “You’re not the only one with a father who is no longer here, Mick” and with that I stormed out of the trailer, ready to run the track 2 more times to purge my brain of the conversation. 

I won that weekend, at the Hungaroring. A place my father had taken 3 wins in Formula 1. I smiled up at him on that podium, hoping that I was making him proud. I turned to my right, briefly looking at Mick, wondering if he thought the same thing every time he was on a podium too. I wondered if he was thinking about his dad’s four wins here in Hungary. I shook my head slightly, fighting to free the thought of how similar we were. I didn’t want us to be, but there was no denying it.

Five. That was the number. The number of wins that my father had taken here at Spa-Francorchamps. I was hoping to have my first. I knew Mick was too.

“Red flag, red flag, red flag!” My heart sunk. I had watched the two cars collide in my mirrors. The bright pink car turning to scattered pieces in less than a second. Being around motorsport for my whole life, I knew, I could tell. It was not good. And for the first time in my racing career, I realised that I couldn’t breathe. I’d never felt like this before. “Oh my god” was all my lungs could push out down the radio as I headed back to the pits. 

“Everything ok, Maria? Do you have a puncture? You are traveling quite slow but we can’t see anything here on the data.” I couldn’t answer, I could barely breathe and I felt like my world was going to collapse. The 1st of May 1995 had come flooding back to my mind, but this time, instead of my father, it was my friend, a good friend at that. In that moment, as I sat in my car, finally back in the pits, I experienced the grief of my father’s death 24 years ago. An event I never had to mourn until now.

I was suffocating and suddenly my suit was too tight, my harness felt like vines trying to pull me to hell and my helmet felt like it was trying to kill me, compressing my head. I was clawing at my neck, unable to find my zipper or my helmet strap with my gloves on but when I tried to remove them, my fingers didn’t move. I told them to and they didn’t. I realised in that moment that I had been screaming, the sound so muffled by my helmet and the roar of engines, the blast of sirens and the chatter of people. But then my neck didn’t feel as constricted and when I lulled my head, I was staring back at Mick. He flipped my visor up, the breeze stinging my tear stained face. “Let’s get you out of here, ok?” And with that, my harness was undone and I was lifted from my car. My legs gave way and my sobs were so much louder now, Mick propping me up as he rushed me through the garage to our trailer.

I didn’t stop crying once, I was babbling nonsense as Mick lifted me to sit on a workbench in our trailer. “Can you take your helmet off?” He had asked, looking straight into my eyes, watching the tears flow. I shook my head, no, I couldn’t, I couldn’t even think right now. It took me about 13 more restricted breaths before I realised that my vision was becoming blurred and I could no longer distinguish Mick’s freckles from his complexion. He turned to wave someone over but it didn’t matter, I was out.

My eyes fluttered open, squinting from the harsh light that shone from the trailer roof. I moved my limbs slightly, feeling the hard massage bed beneath me. Turning to my left, I saw Mick. He hadn’t seen me wake yet but as I looked closer, I began to notice just how badly he was doing. He had his head in his hands, his shoulders moving occasionally, soft sobs echoing through the room. He was now back in his Prema hoodie and tracksuit pants, I had clearly been out for a while. “Mick.” I was surprised that my voice was even audible. He looked up and my heart broke and for the first time, I saw a scared boy. He no longer towered over me, he crumpled where he sat and his usually rosy cheeks looked pale and tear-stained. “Hey” was all I got from him. I stood up to sit next to him, transferring my weight from the bed to the bench that I had been propped up on not so long ago.

“Was it Anthoine?” I couldn’t look at Mick, if I did, I would break all over again. “Yeah. Yeah, it was. I am sorry Maria, I know you guys were close.” I nodded, looking down at my lap. “What.. what happened to you on that in lap?” He finally faced me. I knew he would have asked, I was always so fierce and composed, my breaking down was unheard of. I tossed my options up in my head but when I turned to look at Mick, I knew then that he could have asked anything of me and I would have. His eyes were watery but kind, not how I remembered them to be before that, always so beady and harsh. His hand rested on mine, softly to test the waters but then his fingers curled encasing my hand in his. I had to tell him. It was only fair. I knew he would keep my secret, if only because he knew my pain. 

“My dad.” I was scared to say more than that but I knew it wasn’t enough to explain the situation. He surveyed my face, picking up on my need for him to continue the conversation. “It reminds you of your father’s passing?” He spoke timidly, without his confident facade, weary of upsetting me and ruining our first proper chance at friendship. I nodded in confirmation of his question. “He was a racer? He drove cars too?” Again I nodded, willing myself to finally speak any words. He smiled at my nod, resonating with the bond that children have with their father’s legacies. “Was he in NASCAR or Indy? Rally?” I could tell that Mick was racking his brain trying to place my surname. It was obvious that he knew all the F1 drivers and none of them shared my last name. “No. F1.” The way his head flicked towards me, trying to catch my eye to see if I was joking. I wasn’t. He was racking his brain for a question to ask, to confirm it. He wasn’t stupid, here was a Brazilian girl in front of him, the same age and there was only one possibility.

“Imola?” He leaned back, waiting for my reaction. I nodded. He didn’t react, just turned to look straight ahead, processing the information. “But, how could you be my age if-“ “IVF, yeah” I knew he would ask. He nodded again, seeing that it added up. “Does anyone know?” He turned to me again, his eyes softening. “No, no one, well except Bruno and my mother obviously. Not even Felipe does.” I sighed, it felt almost refreshing to be able to get this off of my chest and tell someone.

“I think in that car hearing the red flag called, that was the first time I properly grieved my father’s death. It had always seemed too far away and impossible but it happened again. I have never felt sadness like I have now.”

We sat together in silence until the team came and got us. It was only when Bruno, who had been acting as my manager during this time, gave me a weird look and I realised that Mick and I had been holding hands, finding comfort in one another as we processed the events of the day and the revelation I had dropped. Bruno’s look quickly softened when he realised just how upset I was, my eyes still watery and my skin pale. I thought at that moment, that I had hit rock bottom, that nothing would ever feel as painful as how my heart felt right there. But I think we both know that I wouldn’t be saying that if it was the case. Life has a way of kicking us when we are down and it kicked me hard.

Mick had messaged me throughout that week and over the next few races we had grown closer. Not friends just yet but we were amicable and I always felt his watchful eye on me. During interviews, training, conferences and racing I felt for the first time like I had someone ready to catch me if I fell. I showed my vulnerable side and through that, I had gained a confidante. He hadn’t told a soul of my secret and I was grateful. I suspected it was because he understood my desire to stay invisible, to be able to have the opportunity to rise through the ranks myself, a privilege, I realised, he never got. I had reflected on my comments towards him and had apologised, he knew now that I was merely projecting but I still felt bad.

The last race of the season was at Yas Marina, both F2 and F1 ending the 2019 season here. I was expected to win but I was only leading Mick in the championship by 7 points. It was close. I wanted to win and I hated all of the remarks from broadcasters and even my team of, ‘you can win the championship if he comes second and you get at least third, fourth or fifth’. I know they were trying to show me how possible it was, how I was right there, to win the championship in my rookie season and to be the first woman to win an F2 championship. I knew it settled my nerves, my engineer going over it all with me so that radio messages during the race made sense when comparing my results to Mick but I just wanted to be first. It was in my nature and no one would stop me.

As I walked through the paddock, my headphones in, the sound of rock pouring into my ears, I knew that I belonged here, stopping into the Mercedes garage, I quickly said hello to Lewis, who had been an avid support of mine, both on talent and my battle to overcome my diversity. He gave me a hug and a good luck and I was on my way again. As I walked the paddock, I became more and more aware of the eyes on me, engineers stopped what they were doing to point and whisper, broadcasters looking at me too. I was confused, obviously I was well known, I was leading the F2 championship currently but there had never been a reception like this, especially from the F1 teams who were always too busy (or too important) to care. I started my way back to the Prema motorhome, the stares starting to freak me out.

One second I was walking past a short alleyway between trailers and the next I was leaning against one, my shoulders being held and my eyes looking straight at Mick, his eyes filled with worry. The more I looked over him, the more I realised how dishevelled he looked, hair messy, face glowing with sweat and breathing heavily. “Mick, get off me. What is going on?” I stood up, straightening my hair with my hand. “I swear it wasn’t me. I would never do that to you. I promise. I’m so sorry and we will figure this out together. I’m by your side.” He muttered out, his ramblings so foreign compared to his usual composed and calm speech. “What are you talking about?” I hadn’t a clue what was going on. “Oh god. You haven’t heard yet, have you?” Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his phone, tapping through an app before passing it to me.

“I’m so sorry, Maria. I needed to find you before anyone else did and let you know” His eyes were wide and his brows furrowed, pleading with me to believe him. My first instinct was to be mad at him, be so furious that I kicked and screamed and threw punches but I just knew it wasn’t him. If my teammate was anyone else, I wouldn’t have believed them but we had lived such similar lives, I knew he couldn’t betray me like that. “I believe you, Mick.” His shoulder tension dropping at my affirmation of his innocence. “What do I do now?” I was genuinely clueless. I had always had a plan in life, everything following as I had planned, but now… I had nothing. “Let’s go back to the garage and see what we can do next, Rene can handle this.”

My hands had never been as sweating as they were sitting in that conference room. I looked around the circular table, Rene, Mick, Bruno and then myself, that was it. “It’s true, Rene. I should have told you and I understand if you are mad but I really was just trying to make it on my own. I didn’t want to wear my father’s name like a label.” He nodded and smiled. “I know, Maria, I know. What do you want to come from this?” He reached across the table and squeezed my hand, giving me a sympathetic thin-lipped smile. He was like a father to me and what I imagined it would be like to have Ayrton around still, he was always pushing me, always wanting me to do more, but he was so proud of my achievements and wanted the best for me. “I don’t want to say anything until after the race. Please.” He nodded. “No media until after the race, you decide then what your answer to everyone’s question is. Same for you, Mick, no media.” He smiled and then let it drop, remembering that him being excused from media was because my identity was being leaked. It made me smile a little if nothing else. “Also, I have spoken to a few people around the team and apparently one of the mechanics leaked this to the press. He overheard you both talking after Spa and wanted to make some money off of this. I am truly sorry, Maria. He was been let go of immediately and if you would like, we can pursue legal action.” All I could do was nod, what was done, was done. But it was race time and I needed to focus.

In true Mick fashion, I had gotten a fist bump and a smile and good luck before the race. The Prema garage was tense but excited. No one knew what was about to happen but they were keen to find out, much like we were too. I won’t get into the final race, if you are reading this, then you probably know the results and if you don’t, have a look on F1TV, it wasn’t a bad race, although I may be pretty biased. All I can say is that, as I jumped from my car, parked behind the sign with a one printed on it, I was on top of the world. I wasn’t thinking about my father, about my team, about my mother back in Brazil… I was actually thinking about the person driving the car that pulled up behind number two. Who sprung out of their car like there was a fire and who picked me up and twirled me around like I weighed nothing. Up on the podium, as the Brazilian national anthem played, I looked to my right and wondered if Mick had the same thought as me, the next generation of Senna and Schumacher, the future greats battling it out on track.

“Yes.”

“Sorry Maria, what do you mean?”

“I know what you were about to ask me, yes.”

“We were trying to do the math before an-”

“IVF. Any other questions?”

“Is it true that you like the second-generation Schumacher more than your father liked the first?”

Looking over my shoulder, Mick was graciously completing interviews and my heart swelled. I wasn’t dumb. I had known all along that my projection of my own fatherly situation and my supposed hatred of him was to mask how I really felt. That the first day we ever met, when he came over, Italy coloured hoodie on and introduced himself, it had been love at first sight. Nothing had changed and looking at him now, chatting away with pride after just narrowly coming second in the championship, my heart felt the same love.

“He wishes.”

The next season, 2020, Mick had won the F2 championship and I was spending my time as the McLaren reserve driver, beside Carlos Sainz and Lando Norris, soaking in every detail I could and trying to honour my father’s legacy as much as possible. 2021 involved Mick in Alfa Romeo with Valtteri Bottas and myself now in the second seat at McLaren with Lando Norris. 

4 years with our teams, blood, sweat and tears both on and off track. A few pole positions and a few race wins, a few crashes and a few too many DNF’s (although if you ask me, 1 is too many). Our love grew and was tested daily but I knew that nothing was ever going to change how I felt about Mick. He was the smell of pine amongst the ice of Swiss mountains, he was the reflection the sun made on the sand underneath the shallow ocean water and he was the soft crackle that a fireplace made. He was my comfort and my support through everything. We were private but never secretive and I knew that if he asked me to give up racing, I would in a heartbeat but he never would, it wasn’t in his nature.

I looked up from my laptop, a soft knock rousing me from my work. “Are you writing right now? On your wedding day, oh my goodness, Maria, no!” Lily was standing there in her bridesmaid dress, hair curled and makeup on. “You need to get your dress on, Lewis, you were meant to be keeping her on track.” She gestured to the man lounging on a desk chair, who sprung into action at realising the time. “Shit, Maria, you need to get ready!” Lily rolled her eyes. “We are all ready to go, so dress on and let’s get you married, hey?” I nodded and slipped into my dress, Lewis helping when I called for him to do the zip for me. With my shoes on, I was ready to marry the love of my life. “He would be so proud of you, prodígio. I just know it.” I smiled back at him as we waited in the entrance room of one of the Schumacher ranch barns. Having converted the whole property for our wedding. White flowers adorned the area, small candles in jars and a line of luxury cars, it was us to a tee. 

As I met Mick at the end of the aisle, I had to tilt my head back, stopping the tears that brimmed. “You look utterly breathtaking, Liebling.” He was in awe and I felt more beautiful than I ever had. “You don’t look so bad too.” “Wait, is it going to be Schumacher-Senna or Senna-Schumacher?” He furrowed his brows together, wanting to make sure his vows were correct, I chuckled. “Take a guess, Mick. The Senna name won a championship first.” We giggled with each other before the minister started his speech. All I could do was look into those beautiful blue eyes and know everything would be okay.

[amethysttribble]

And The Blush Pink Twilight Follows

I failed to complete FeanorianWeek this year, but I’m not a quiter, so I’m going to write and post the last four anyway. But it’s going to be out of order because time is an illusion and Moryo and Kano won’t cooperate. So-

Entry 4 5, Curufin (+Maedhros): Feanor

Being 11 and feeling crushing inadequacy is hard enough, but it’s harder when you’re 11 and already starting to figure out that your father and brother are main characters in this story and you’re going to be a side character at best.

This ended up way heavier than I expected, I wanted it to be FLUFFY. It’s not. It never goes well when I put Maedhros and Curufin in a room, there’s too many daddy issues between the two of them. But here goes!

Tyelkormo had taught Curufinwe how to climb nearly any tree, but Maitimo- despite being as tall as one- was proving to be a problem.

“Give it back!” he screamed, holding on to Maitimo’s outstretched arm, hands around his large wrist and one leg looped over his upper arm. “Give it back, give it back, give it back!”

“Say please,” Maitimo quipped, smiling of all things.

“It’s mine!” Curufinwe screeched, “I don’t have to say please!” 

From his position hanging from his brother’s unmovable arm- he’d hoped to drag him down, but no luck- he threw his right arm over, hooking his elbow around Maitmo’s forearm, then left go with his other hand. He started to reach around, and there was his creation, the base gripped firmly in his brother’s fingers, but not the top.

Curufinwe’s finger wrapped around steel.

“Ah, ah, ah!” Maitimo cried, sounding genuinely panicked for a moment. His arm jerked down, which didn’t take what they were fighting over out of reach, but did jolt Curufinwe’s looped arm right off of Maitimo’s. 

The ground rushed up.

Curufinwe let out a low moan of pain as he lay face-first on the ground, legs still suspended in the air. His head was pounding.

“Shit.” Far more carefully, his legs were let down, and then Curufinwe felt himself being pulled up. Maitimo sat before him, concern etched onto his face, his creation nowhere to be seen. Curufinwe let out another upset sound.

“Oh, your head, your clever head,” Maitimo muttered as he placed his hands on his forehead and scalp, feeling around. “Are you okay?”

Was he okay? Curufinwe was categorically not. His new creation was gone, he felt stupid for letting Nelyo see it, like a failure for not getting it back, and his head hurt! All he could do was sit there, a pounding pain between his ears. 

Embarrassingly, Curufinwe choked up.

“Give it back,” he whined, and he knew he sounded close to tears, he knew he did. So pathetic, he wasn’t some little kid, he wasn’t a baby like Amabarussa. He was almost thirty! And here he was, fighting back tears in front of Maitimo. His eldest brother would never respect him, acting like this.

Curufinwe squeezed his eyes shut to try and force away the urge to cry. He heard Nelyo sigh, and then those stupid arms that had foiled him three times already today wrapped around him. Maitmo stood, Curufinwe in his arms.

“I’m not a kid, I can walk,” he snapped, but didn’t fight.

“I know,” Nelyo said soothingly. “If it’ll make you feel better, I’ll carry Turko somewhere later. He’ll let me, too.” Tyelkormo was brave and shameless and Father said he was ‘exceptionally talented in his field’. Not to mention, full grown and tall; nobody tried to pick him up without asking. He didn’t need to fight. 

But Curufinwe knew that Maitimo would say something pacifying and unhelpful to that, so he kept his silence.

They walked silently to the dining room, where Maitimo set Curufinwe down gently. He looked at him for a second, pushing some hair back and running a hand over his scalp again. Then he said, “Wait here.” He left.

Curufinwe groaned. 

He no longer felt on the verge of tears, but his head still hurt. He put a hand up to his temple and swung his legs. He wanted Mother. A part of him hoped that Maitimo was going to get Mother, but another part of him revolted at the thought.

If Maitimo fetched her, then she would know they were fighting, and Curufinwe would get in trouble because his parents had come to some pack long before the rest of them were born that said that Nelyo was always right. He never got in trouble. It was so unfair.

And Curufinwe knew this time would be no different, even though Maitimo had stolen from him. Somehow, his big brother had a way of spinning even the most heinous crimes to be a good thing, actually, in disguise. It wasn’t fair. 

Nelyafinwe was good at talking like Father, and Curufinwe…

The tears welled up in his eyes again and he had to pinch the back of his hand to make them stop.

When Maitimo walked back in, Curufinwe glared at him.

He did not seem phased and simply approached with a bundle of cloth. Without asking- as he never did- Maitimo set the bag against the back of Curufinwe’s head, and it was ice cold. So it was probably ice.

“There,” Maitimo said soothingly, “does that feel better?”

“I’d feel better if you’d stop babying me,” he snapped.

Maitimo regarded him coolly for a second, meeting his eyes. Then he looked away, having the gall to let out an exasperated sigh.

“You’re right, Curvo, you’re not a ‘baby’. But that’s why I had hoped you’d understand why you can’t be walking around with a dagger, of all things. Nor should you be making them! Where did you even learn to do that, because if Father’s been teaching you to make blades…”

The implied threat that Nelyo would tell Mother and start a fight between her and Father made Curufinwe’s throat close up in horror. He hated when they fought. He really, really hated it, especially when it was about him. For some reason, Mother was often mad at Father because of him.

“Please don’t,” Curufinwe whispered, voice strangled.

Nelyo gave him a considering look.

“Tell me where you learned to make a blade, and maybe we can keep this between us.”

He considered his options. He knew that he absolutely could not lie; Maitimo could smell a lie from across the sea if he had to. So he must either be honest or be silent. Silent, Curufinwe could do. He was good at being ‘sullen’, even Father noted it sometimes. But what happened if he stayed silent? Nelyo told Mother, she and Father fought, things were awful for the next week, month, however long.

But if he told the truth, he could get banned from the forge, and that was… Curufinwe would die like Grandmother if he was banned from the forge. 

Thankfully, though, even if Nelyo tried to punish him, if he just explained how dire the situation was to Father, he would overrule. 

That was more trouble, but Curufinwe could control that trouble.

His head was really cold now and the pain was gone, so he batted Maitimo away and said, “Just watching.”

“Just watching?” Maitimo repeated, raising an eyebrow. Curufinwe nodded.

“Really. I’ve worked with steel a little before. When Father replaced all of Master Hilyar’s farm tools last year, I got to help, and I made one of the shovels almost all on my own. So I know steel.”

Maitimo did not look as impressed as he should, so Curufinwe crossed his arms and gave him a hard stare. After a moment, he said, “Right, that’s really neat, Curvo. But the weapons?”

“Father says anything can be a weapon,” Curufinwe replied, and he knew Nelyo didn’t like that reply from the way his face scrunched, but it was true! “And anything can be a tool. Daggers are very common tools, you know.”

“Not for Elflings.” “I’m not a little kid!”

“Just-” Nelyo ran a hand down his face and let out a long breath. “The point, please, Atarinke.”

Curufinwe decided that Maitimo was too stupid to waste his time on, and said, “Well, knowing how the metal reacts is one of the most important parts. We have dagger molds. I knew what I wanted to make. After the metal settle and I had to temper it, that was a little harder. I broke two blades before I succeeded. But I’ve seen Father do it. So I just had to practice. And I did it! I made my dagger, it’s mine. Mine, Nelyo.”

“Yes, yours,” Maitimo agreed, sounding exhausted. Why? It wasn’t like there hadn’t been time to rest, it was summer. There was so much freetime, Curufinwe didn’t know what to do with himself but work and experiment. 

“But, Curvo, don’t you see how that’s dangerous? Working on a project like that for the first time unsupervised?”

“We wouldn’t be having this conversation,” Curufinwe rebutted, leaning forward, “if I had made a steel spade. It’s the fact that it’s a blade that you care, even though Turko and the other hunters have tons of blades, and even Mother carries one when she goes on walks in the wild. You’re mad because Nolofinwe’s been talking at council about how Father makes blades while we’re away and you think it makes us look bad.”

“How do you even know-” Maitimo sputtered, before shaking his head. “Wait, no, let me guess. Just watching.”

Curufinwe watched most things. People didn’t tend to notice he was there, standing behind Father. Smaller and dimmer and-

“Just give it back,” he whined. “Please. I won’t carry it for long, I won’t show it to Ambarussa or cut off any of Moryo’s hair. It’s not even sharp enough for that… I just wanted to show it to Father.”

He stared up at Nelyo, suddenly… suddenly pleading, for as embarrassing as that was. He could feel himself shivering slightly, getting stupidly emotional again. It was just- just that twenty minutes ago he was so excited to give the dagger he made to Father, and now that feeling had slipped away. He was scared now, about how much trouble he’d caused for something that wasn’t even good.

Not near as good as anything Father made. Oh, why did he even want to do this in the first place? He was so-

“For what it’s worth,” Nelyo said, hopping up on the table to sit next to him, “it looks sharp enough to have scared the treelights out of me. You must have polished it for a long time.”

Miserably, Curufinwe nodded. Maitimo wrapped an arm around his shoulders.

“You’re too hard on yourself, Curvo. I… might have gone a little hard in this instance. You know Father will like anything you make, right?”

“Like it,” he muttered in reply, “not respect it.”

“You’re not even twenty-eight-”

“Almost thirty!”

“You’ve got plenty of time to earn respect later.” Nelyo laughed slightly, and that made Curufinwe curl in on himself. He pulled his knees up to his chest and tucked his chin between them.

“At my age, Father was revolutionizing language.”

“Well… Father’s exceptional.”

“That’s easy for you to say!” Curufinwe huffed, squeezing his eyes shut. This was stupid. Talking with Maitimo about anything was pointless, he was so- so-

“Hey, hey, hey,” Maitimo said, pulling his chin up to look him in the eyes. His eyebrows were furrowed in concern. “What does that mean?”

“You know what it means,” Curufinwe spat out. “Everyone likes you and thinks you’re smart and good at what you do, and you’re Father’s heir-”

Maitimo sighed, “This again,” and rolled his eyes and that lit a fire in Curufinwe’s chest. He slapped out at his brother and pushed his arm off. He wanted out of here, this was stupid, he was almost crying again. He was partway down the table when Maitimo snatched him around the waist and pulled him back up.

“Nuh-uh, we’re not done. Why do you even care about something that meaningly less? You’re Curufinwe.”

He something in his chest exploded. He let out a cry of frustration, curling in on himself again, shaking.

“Because- because- because- you don’t respect me,” he blubbered, heaving angry breaths. “And Father doesn’t respect me, because no one does. And no one can tell Father no because he’s so good, but everyone tells me no all the time, because I’m not good. And it’s not fair! Because you get to do everything you want and get praised for it, because you’re perfect, even Mother thinks so-”

Maitimo started to shush him, petting his hair again. 

“Woah, hey, let’s take a step back,” he said gently. “I didn’t expect- Breathe.” 

Curufinwe did. He hiccuped and gasped until his lungs stopped burning so much. Thankfully, he was able to wipe away the wetness on his cheeks quickly. He hadn’t cried that much, he just… couldn’t breathe for a moment there.

“What was that?” Maitimo asked, voice annoying soft, as were his fingers as he carded them through his hair. “There was quite a lot that bubbled up there. You don’t- I’m not that special, you know that right?”

In reply, he just sniffed disdainfully at a statement that stupid. That was a lie, and Maitimo knew it too. It was in his eyes; the confidence that came from knowing you were exceptional.

Nelyo tried a different attack.

“It’s normal to feel insecure,” he said. “Especially in comparison to Father. We’ve all felt that, me, Kano, Turko, Moryo. We’ve gotten older and found the fields that are right for us, but that doesn’t make us more special than you.”

“That’s not what I mean, it’s different with them,” he mumbled.

“Come on,” Nelyo wheedled, “you don’t think Moryo’s really talented at picking petty academic fights?”

Curufinwe gave Nelyo a droll look.

“Moryo doesn’t matter as much as you do.”

That made Maitimo gape in something approaching horror, then pinch the bridge of his nose. “Sweet suffering Manwe,” he muttered, “never say that in front of him- Never say that again, please, Curvo. I just… I don’t know where this idea comes from. ‘Heir’, that’s… it’s a stupid title. It doesn’t mean anything. If it’s a competition about being like Father, you win everytime, and if it’s about being good at something, you’re still learning. Give yourself time, Curufinwe. You’ll grow into the name.”

Nelyo didn’t understand and Curufinwe was tired of explaining. He wanted to be willfully blind… Father said that modesty was a particular type of vanity and Maitimo was drowning in it. Everything he did gleamed.

Everything I make, Curufinwe thought as Nelyo silently handed back his dagger, is dull.

“One day,” Maitimo said, “you will make something incredible, that blows everyone away. A real masterpiece. And you know what? I bet it will be better than anything Father’s ever made, too.”

Curufinwe snorted, but he still looked up at Nelyo. “Promise?”

“Promise. Now come on. You still want to show Father your dagger?”

[f1uckinghell]

Mini Summer VV Event, Part 1 🩵

I have several oneshots for the event prepared, and I will drop them throughout the week I've decided! Remember: the event has been extended until the 22nd of July!

Enjoy!

Maxiel parenting//angst with a happy ending//tw: mentions of violence

🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵

Max lets out a slow breath when the screen of his phone says “school”. Again.

“Good morning, this is Ms. Bailey.” She doesn't sound urgent, so nobody is hurt. Probably.

“Good morning, Ms. Bailey,” Max says, leaning against the counter, rolling his eyes to the heavens. “Which one is it?”

By now he should be on a first name basis with her, to be honest.

“I'm afraid it's Flynn,” she sighs, and the “again” is implied.

Max narrowly bites back an exasperated “fuck”. “What happened?”

“He got into another fight,” Ms. Bailey says, her voice neutral, “With the same boy from his parallel class again. During homeroom.”

“Anyone seriously hurt?” Max asks. There is a stain on the sink opposite of him that needs cleaning.

“No, no, a teacher pulled them apart, thankfully. Before anyone could get hurt. But you know how it is, I have to inform you-”

“Yeah, yeah,” Max replies. He's a pro at this by now. “We'll talk to him later. My husband is coming to pick the kids up today, if you want to talk to him-”

“It's really not necessary,” Ms Bailey tells him. She sounds as routined at this as he is. With so many mid-puberty alpha students, Max wonders how many of these calls she has to make weekly. “Just make sure you talk to him… you know we have a very tolerant policy around here, but Flynn’s been getting into so many fights lately that I'm concerned he might get suspended at some point.”

“Yeah, of course.” Max pinches the bridge of his nose. “Sorry. Thank you.”

“Thank you,” Ms Bailey echoes.

“Ugh, fuck,” is the first thing Max says after hanging up.

Teenage alphas get into fights, it's normal and somewhat expected. They're full of hormones, they're trying to find their own identity, they're starting to feel territorial and they have a lack of self-control. But lately, at least once a week, Max gets one of these calls.

Isabel was never like this; she did get into her fair share of fights and tussles, but they very rarely ended with calls home from school.

But Flynn…

He's not a violent kid, at least not at home. He's gentle, actually, with all of the animals which he loves so much, with little Jasper, with his siblings and packlings (mostly) and with them; lets Luna braid his hair and lets Jasper use him as a climbing gym. Sometimes he's still just like a little boy and wants cuddles and to sleep with his head in Max's lap or for Daniel to spend time with him and tell him he's proud of him.

But ever since he's turned fourteen a year ago, he’s been coming home with split lips and black eyes and bloody knuckles at least once a week.

At first, Daniel reassured Max that it's normal, that young alphas just need to fight sometimes. But when it became more and more frequent, both of them started getting concerned.

When he told his mother about it, her expression softened. “...like your dad,” she said, regret heavy in her voice.

Max hates that thought. He doesn't want to be like his father, and he especially doesn't want his kids to be like Jos.

But it's undeniable. For as much as Flynn looks like Daniel, his broad frame and his face shape make it undeniable who his grandfather is.

Max takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. Then he calls Daniel, and tells him what happened.

-

Flynn looks like a sad puppy, and Max already feels bad for the scolding he's about to receive.

They're sat around the dining room table, Daniel, Flynn and him. The doors are closed; Daniel shooed the other pups away when they tried to eavesdrop.

Daniel has his arms crossed, looking as strict as he can (which is, to be honest, not very strict). It's enough to make Flynn duck his head.

“Tell us what happened,” Daniel tells him.

“This is the third call in two weeks, Flynn,” Max adds softly.

Flynn sniffles and Max's heart almost breaks.

“I'm sorry,” he says, looking up at Max through his curls. “I didn't mean to get into another fight.”

“Then what happened?” Daniel urges, leaning forward. He doesn't sound unfriendly, just… well, like a Dad who needs to make sure his kid is okay. „The same boy again?! What’s your deal with him?“

Flynn sniffs, scrunching up his nose. Like I do, Max thinks.

“...he was being mean,” he eventually says.

“To you?” Max prompts. He wants to reach across the table and grab Flynn’s hand, he looks so miserable.

Flynn shakes his head. “No, to Jakob.”

Daniel and Max exchange a quick glance, heavy with meaning in a way only couples who have been together for a long time can.

“What did he do?” Daniel asks.

“Keeps saying he's weird and stupid,” Flynn grumbles, “And called him the r-word.”

Max looks at Daniel again, clenching his jaw. Daniel lets out a slow, controlled breath, meeting his eyes. They've been dealing with this for fifteen years now; it's just how things are when one of your kids is different. It never gets any less infuriating.

“So you hit him?” Daniel asks.

Flynn is staring at the tabletop, nodding. “I know I shouldn't, but… it just made me so… so mad!” Finally, he looks up, and there's a fire in his eyes. On the table, his fists are clenched. “Jakob isn't stupid or weird! He's the smartest person I know! …well, him and Luna. But the point is, he's not stupid!”

They can tell he's getting heated over this, and Max is so, so proud of him.

“Did you tell anyone what that boy said?” Daniel asks.

Flynn bites his lip and shakes his head. “...no, I didn't… I didn't want to get Jakob involved. He doesn't need to know someone… said that. And I didn’t want to get Evie involved, either.“ Evie, the only person even more protective over Jakob than Flynn.

Daniel and Max exchange a long glance, and then they both exhale simultaneously. Max can feel the tension fall away from his heart.

Flynn looks up at them, eyes darting between them in surprise as Daniel starts laughing and Max hurries around the table, wrapping his arms around him.

“You're so…!” Max holds him close, and Flynn, albeit confused, gives a sweet little pup-like whimper and cuddles close.

“Sorry, Mama,” he mumbles, voice muffled against Max's shoulder.

Daniel gives a friendly little growl, reaches between them and grabs Flynn by the scruff of his neck, in an affectionate way, the way he used to when Flynn was little and got too wild. „You’ll be the death of me at some point, boy.“

„Sorry, Daddy,“ Flynn says, but there’s a smile in his voice.

„It’s okay, champ.“ When Max has stepped away, Daniel ruffles Flynn’s hair. Then, his expression becomes more serious. „But you can’t solve all your problems with violence, yeah?“

Flynn ducks his head again, the sheepish expression back on his face. „Yes, Dad, I know… but sometimes I just get so… so mad when someone is being mean!“

Max is overcome with love for him. „You’ll learn to control it.“

„When?“ Flynn throws up his hands.

„Once you’ve presented,“ Dan tells him with a sorry little smile.

Flynn grumbles. „That could take ages!“

Max runs his fingers through Flynn’s curls. „It won’t, I promise.“

„You’re already so chock-full of hormones, it can’t take that much longer,“ Dan comments, and the noise Flynn makes in reply is peak embarrassed teenager. It makes Max laugh.

They’ll talk to the school, set things right. It’ll be okay. They’ve gotten through worse.

For now, Max can’t believe that he ever thought Flynn’s behavior was caused by aggression, instead of Daniel’s pure, protective, and maybe somewhat impulsive streak.

When he goes to open the door to the kitchen, he hears Daniel say in a sotto voice: „You know, some bullies do need punching, though.“

[vicky82gargoylesfan]

My Thought on Gargoyles Issue 11 and Issue 12

Again sorry if it's a bit messy and if i've missed things out.

Spoilers

Issue 11 Young at Heart

Great issue, Gnash is the narrator.

Antoinette Dracon tells the Gargoyles they need to save the kids because her uncle will kill them.

Elisa is scalded by Chavez for keeping the Gargoyles a secret and she's not happy with Matt too as he knew about the Gargoyles too but he has a solution.

Renard sadly passes away but before that he announces that Fox get's 48% of the company, Alex get's 48% of the company and Goliath gets 2% of the company which is why Renard wanted Goliath to get captured and have a hearing so he gets the same rights as humans. It's still pretty hilarious though that Goliath has his own money though. I wonder if something happens to Goliath then does that 2% of Cyberbiotics get passed on to Angela.

The Trio fight Dino Dracon and they still wearing the Gargoyle masks, some of the henchman are wearing exo - suits, the same ones Demona wore In The Reckoning.

Issue 12 Cold Comfort

Great issue and a shocking moment at the end.

Not surprisingly Coldstone is the narrator but it seemed like it he was talking to someone else.

All the Gargoyles are reunited, The Trio and Gnash return from the fight with Dino Dracon and Goliath returns from witnessing the death of Renard.

Dino Dracon still wants to disrupt things, he plans a frame job by leaving bombs at each police station and blame it on the other gangs. He's even been in contact with Castaway to get rid of the Gargoyles. He even tells his Niece not to go to the summit.

Brooklyn and Katana ask Lex, Broadway and Angels if they could become rookery parents to there egg when she hatches and they accept.

Angela and Broadway also ask Katana and Elisa and Brooklyn and Lex if they could become there seconds at there mating ceremony, which they accept.

As I suspected Elisa was punished, so she is suspended for 4 months without pay.

 Antoinette visits the Gargoyles again and tells them about Dino's plans. The gargoyles do get rid of the bombs.  

At the summit and the gang family's appear. Dino has left a bomb in the chandelier, so he even wanted to take out his Father and Pal Joey so that's why he didn't want Antoinette there.

Coldstone destroys the bomb. Dino admits to killing his brother. Dominic ends up taking him out but I seriously doubt he's dead. I bet he will appear again.

So Coldstone tries to talk to Goliath but there always a distraction and now Goliath has joined the Gargoyles Taskforce and has his own badge number, nice Easter egg there.

Then we realise who Coldstone has been talking to this whole time and it's Demona, so now he's a traitor and probably will regret it later. and what will Coldfire do when she finds out, I really like Coldfire, so I do feel sorry for her.

Also another surprise, is that Antoinette is working for Demona and Demona has control of the New York Gangs now. So how did cross paths?

So what does Aim True My NYC mean, probably something to do with Demona in the Quest series, maybe a spell or something.

Can't wait for the Quest series.

[new-dawn-au]

Yeah, this is gonna be a long one so buckle up XD

Also sorry for the wait for this to come out, I've had it mostly done for so long, just didn't know how to finish it!

Yuki, young girl with light brown and pink hair accompanied by heavy eye makeup, threw her bag at the roof fence, slumping down against it before giving a long and exaggerated sigh. "Ugh! I can't believe that Hayate got suspended again! He's such an ass!"

"Let me guess, another fight of his escalated?" Asked Minako, a pale girl who's purple eyes were highlighted by her bright grey hair and dark cardigan. The purple eyed middle schooler handed the other a bottle of water and watched as she gulped it all down, sighing with delight as she finished the water.

"Ahhh, that's good shit. Thanks, sugar!" The mentioned girl blushed at the nickname as her eyes softened, just then did she notice something. "Wait, where's Saki? She isn't usually this late." "You're right, where is she?" Yuki said and not a moment later, the doors to the roof were pushed open by their friend.

Saki stopped in front of the two girls and clutched her chest, catching her breath before apologising. "Sorry that I'm so late! I was taking the new kid to the nurses office."

This sparked Minako's attention, a new student in the middle of the year? "Huh, why'd he have to go?" The gyaru said. "He didn't tell me, but he looked ill." Saki said, it was obvious that she was worried about him despite just meeting him.

"I'm sorry if I'm interrupting you two, but who is this new student? I've never heard about him." Minako asked, gaining an answer from Yuki.

"His name is Apis Subaru! Well, at least I think it is, he didn't really tell me when I was showing him around. He didn't talk alot when I met him, I think he's an introvert? Eh, who knows, that guy's a mystery." Yuki explains, constantly moving her hands whilst doing so. "He seems nice enough, but I don't think the poor guy has any friends! And he has heterochromia as well, I'm not sure if it's a contact lense or not but it totally rocks!"

"If he doesn't seem to have any friends, then why don't we try being his friends?" Minako suggested, gaining a nod of the head from the other two. "I guess that could work! Okay, tomorrow, I'll invite him to have break and lunch with us." Saki decided,

The next day, Saki waited for the break to start before she walked her way over to Apis, noticing how he had a scar across his eye, that must've been what Yuki was talking about.

He looked at Saki and closed his eyes, giving her a small smile. "... Thank you… for yesterday… I really do appreciate it."

"Aren't you gonna go anywhere for break?" Saki asked the boy, causing him to simply shake his head, his hair swaying as he did. "No…. I don't really know anybody here… and I don't want to cause a distraction for anyone else by following them.."

Saki was filled with sympathy for him, it was clear that he didn't have a very good opinion of himself. In a way, she could see her younger self in him, and this only made her more determined to be his friend.

She smiled before offering him a hand. "Well if you don't have anyone to hang out with, why don't you come with me? It'll stop you from being lonely." "Are you sure? I.. don't want you to feel like you have to be my friend just because you pity me." Apis said before his classmate grabbed his hand, pulling him out of his seat and guiding him to the roof.

Saki was so much different from him, she was confident and didn't seem to care what people thought about her, he wished he could be like her.

By the time the two middle schoolers had got to the roof, Apis was already a bit out of breath, he wasn't yet used to running that quick yet.

"You really weren't kidding on your stubbornness to get him here, huh?" Yuki laughed, watching as the two sat down. "Nah, you know me, I never go back on a promise." Apis felt strange to be around the three girls on the roof, it reminded him far too much of the time Yuma and the rest of the Numbers club spent having lunch on the roof.

He was pulled out of his thoughts by Yuki complimenting him. "Oh my god, you wear elf ears to school? That's so rad! Kinda cute as well, where'd you get them?" "Uhmm, thank.. you? I'm sorry, I'm not sure what you mean.." He mumbled, said ears moved down as he tried to edge away from the girl questioning him.

She dramatically gasps, eyes widening as she covers her mouth. "They fucking move as well?! That's hella sick! You know what? You got a nice aesthetic going on right now and I'm digging it!" Apis didn't know how to respond, he didn't remember the last time he was complimented in such a way. All he could do was sit there.

As Yuki was gushing about nothing in particular to him, she noticed something quite worrying. "Wait, have you had any food yet? You look starving!" "Huh? Oh, I must've forgotten my food this morning." Apis replied, he had completely forgotten about eating and left the lunch that his dad had made for him at home, this happened yesterday and was the reason he went to the nurses office before fainting from hunger.

"um." Finally after watching Apis and getting a bit jealous over her girlfriend giving more attention to him, Minako speaks, offering her food to him. "I always have a tendency to pack too much food for myself, so you can have some of mine if you want, it'll stop you being hungry."

Apis was filled with a strange feeling in his heart for the rest of the day, it reminded him of the warmth and comfort that he felt with Yuma and the others.

He was going to feel very safe in this new town, he just knew it.

[moxxiejoestar]

The gang members of stardust crusader army discuss their childhood memories (4/4)

Jean Pierre Polnareff/Jean P. Polnareff: *comes out from coco jumbo the turtle* is talking about our troubles... Who wants to hear mine?

Giorno: Dammit Polnareff, don't creep up like that!

Tails: Oh this should be good.

Speedwagon: Oh, there you are! I wonder what you have in for us today.

Polnareff: you all think school has treated you better or for worse? One time in fourth grade I was threatened by my principal & she threatened to have her family hunt me down when all I was doing was playing a game that had guns!

Seven of them: WHAT THE FUCK?!

Polnareff: Yes, what the fuck indeed. It's true, back then when I was just an innocent boy, I got in trouble for playing a game at recess called "Black Ops" I didn't know what it was until they introduced it to me, so I went along, acted as if I was holding a rifle in my hands & "shoot" at people. Then after a while, bitch principal comes out here & tells me, ONLY me to come to her office. To my confusion, I was worried & scared, she dragged me to her office & then I had a photo of her husband shown right in front of me, yelling at me telling me that he's going to come down here & arrest me, she also grabs another photo with all her family & threatens me that they're going to find me. Do you know how much that fucked me up in my childhood?! I NEVER TRIED PLAYING A GAME AT RECESS EVER AGAIN BECAUSE THAT BITCH HAD TO TARGET ONLY ME & NOT THE OTHER 7 PEOPLE PLAYING THE GAME! OH! What about the time when I got in a fight with a big dumbass confederate kid who thinks he was hot shit? Wyatt was the biggest twat I've ever met, he repeatedly called me a nazi over & over. I made the decision & wrote a big swastika on his binder. Let's see him call me a Nazi now! Oh there was a time where I made a kid bleed from his nose, ultimately causing him to cry all the way back to the nurses office! Oh what about that time where I verbally abused my middle school math teacher? I turned the entire class from a loud ruckus into a silent herd of pigs! That math teacher never once recovered from that. & just a door away, there was Ms. Edmonson. Oh where did I even start with this bitch? Oh I know, DIRECTLY ASSOCIATING ME WITH THE BAD KIDS ALL BECAUSE OF MY BAD RECORD! The fattest principal in za warudo (za warudo = the world) had to come & take me away, I forgot her name but I'll get to it in a second, she takes me away & test my patience by thinking I'm sooooo smart all the sudden, never once taking into account that I am to learn, not teach the teacher. Cambell! That's her name, Mrs. Cambell was no doubt THE worst principal I have ever met! I got in trouble because of that confederate kid, the algebra teacher, my English teacher & my history teachers, you think you had a rough life? BOI I'm just getting started! Another day, another harassment, Confederate loser comes up to me & keeps stepping my shoes, I turned around grabbing a locker door & slammed his face right in & started to beat the fuck out of him! He pushed me away & pinned me down at a locker, I slammed his face right onto the door of that one & repeatedly kept slammed his head in until he was light-headed! "Not much of a fighter, are ya, partner? Does it hurt when I do that? It does! Doesn't it?" *psycho blood bath, evil, satanic & demonic laughing in French noise* The fight was stopped by teacher who grabbed me out of that carnage & I was forced to go to the office, along with that asshole. Long lectures, boring lectures. It meant nothing to me. I was shocked to hear that I was the one who got suspended & he only had a "day off". You know a school is fucked when ever the principal backs the bully. I never forgotten that day & I remember it well.

Jotaro: uhh... I am at loss of word

Joseph: HOLY SHIT! (Same in JJBA: stardust crusader again)

Speedwagon: where do I even start with this...

Polnaref: Few years later, I return back, more pissed off that ever! I wanted to do something bad that I even considered shooting up the school as an option, but the only reason I didn't was because I am better than that. I still wanted to kill everybody in that school, make them suffer like I had suffered, but in the end, I didn't do it because despite all the harsh treatment I was given, I know I could succeed, with or without them.

Joseph: The fuck was wrong with you at the time?!

Giorno: I fucking can't believe you were even considered on shooting up your school! I wonder anyone as kid would have the guts to kill someone else!

Tails: This is even worse than Bruno's story.

Bruno: I relate to him quite literally in scenario.

Polnareff: That is what happens when you are pushed over a lot of times!

Tails: in my scientific opinion, you had a stressful past, polnareff!

Polnareff: No need to tell me twice. I regret nothing of what I done.

Bruno: Jesus christ polnareff...

Speedwagon: & to think this would've been a great round of hanging out, just to be caught off-guard by polnareff. God have mercy on all of us.

Moxxie: Yeah, hmm, uhh... I think I'll dip... It's getting a bit late now.

Joseph: Me too, it's been fun.

Jotaro: Right! Jotaro has to go to sleep too!

Giorn: Great, I'm pissing off from here too.

Tails: I have a freeze ray to relax with.

Brun: I'm gonna go in my room to play video games.

Polnareff: *waiting till everyone is gone* Ooh...! What a buzzkill I just did... *hops back in coco jumbo the turtle*

THE END

Here's original video if you wanted

[itsgoghtime]

@sophieswundergarten and @nobody33333333 here’s to another adventure!

Highlights and thoughts and spoilers for Chapter 4: The Burden of Greatness of @nobody33333333 ‘s absolute masterpiece, S.O.S. 

This chapter was absolutely adorable. Just... ADORABLE

baby SQ has my heart in his tiny hands - that is all

I appreciate Curtain running around like a madman and being a complete mess. Have never related more. 

For a solid moment there, I completely forgot that the press would actually be swarming like bees - and while I understand the reasoning behind wanting to cancel the water taxis and ferries, it made me laugh because you can just see Curtain *without anything else to prompt him to be this way* being like “eww, people” and I totally get that sometimes whenever I have to leave the house

I also can see that Curtain has this initial front that he puts on - but that promise he made to SQ’s parents is going to haunt him forever - no matter what - and you can see him fighting that before he finally decides to adopt SQ.

mean lady scaring SQ and Curtain goes straight into dad mode - I love it

the line of “Curtain looked up from the baby, suddenly defensive of the child he was about to sign away.” eheheheeee - but also silently cheering because YES and then we also get this gem - “...said Curtain shamefully, for a moment feeling as if he was the child she was referring to,” I want to laugh and cry at this one

HILDEGARD BILLINGSLEY mY hEaVeNs - it’s not only from the PREQUEL (that is just freaking amazing and I will be writing about later) - but she’s also referenced in the show and I just... I KNOW HER!! - I also appreciate that with the context from the prequel, we can see that she really did get that promotion AND that the traditionalistic style is seriously looking down on her new methods. On top of that, we also get the funny line about her name being familiar to Curtain and I just think that is SO FUNNY hehehe 

That next paragraph about her view of what children “should” be when they leave the orphanage reminds me of a quote from a movie that runs in my head rent free (Uncle Buck, when the vice principal wants to suspend his niece because she’s not “taking her student career seriously” in the first grade, not that you were wondering) - “I don’t want to know a six year old who isn’t a dreamer, or a silly heart, and I sure don’t want to know one that takes their student career seriously... I know a good kid when I see one, because they’re all good kids; until dried-out brain-dead scaggs like you drag them down and convince them they’re no good.” 

Curtain is hesitating which breaks me and then we get this line - “Nicholas had loved singing and dancing, the livelier the better, and despite his intelligence, Curtain’s brother had never been the best test taker. Not that either of those mattered. Nicholas had nothing to do with this.” my gOoD gRaCiOuS - SQ really does remind him of Nicky even though he suppresses that thought - and then “He remembered what it had done to him. He still had some of the scars. He was sure Nicky did too.”

it’s that guilt again - and looking at baby SQ (I mean, how could you look at that child and not just melt) - but this line broke me - “And Curtain felt what any good parent feels when they first look into the eyes of their child for the first time. That they would do anything for them and sacrifice anything to keep them safe.”

okay also, the “Your services are no longer required.” hehehe SUCKAH

and then we get a very short glimpse of protective dad Curtain and it freaks the lady out - and he ushers her out the door as fast as he can which made me laugh so hard - followed with “And now you’re going to leave. Goodbye.” and the lil bonus of SQ waving his lil hand and saying bye to her too was just the frosting on the cake

I also love the reflective moment where Curtain - after filling out the adoption papers without question - thinks about how he always wanted to see those papers with his name on them but mostly to be able to say he had parents and maybe even his brother... ouch

And then Curtain taking those attributes he’d read about - strong, confident, in control, protective, brave, a source of security - combined with the quote “He looked down at SQ, his son, the realization fully hitting him.” AND THENNN ““Da-da,” the child declared triumphantly raising his hands up towards Curtain.“That’s right Shep,” he confirmed, “I’m your dad.”” GAHHHHH my freaking hEaRtttttt

“...was clearly too dimwitted to put the pieces of what had happened at the Institute together on his own, which made him the perfect hire.” Jeffersssss yesssss

The way Curtain handled the reporters was kinda fun to read - you know this man just hates talking to reporters but he puts up with it

Curtain bribing people... ya know who else bribes people hehe HIS BROTHERRRR

Also watching his friendships begin to fall apart is a little sad - but you can also understand and see how he thinks controlling them will help - calling Garrison his employee instead of his friend but insisting she gets the best care...

Milligan feeling partly responsible for what happened to Pedalian just like the rest of them... my heart

Also how they just awkwardly stand there - there’s got to be quite a bit of emotion and questions there on both sides - and knowing that Curtain really does kinda have that debt on them for having to pull everything together - there’s a lot said there without even having to say anything at all.

Protecting the research and protecting the kids - yessir Jeffers can sure secure a perimiter... until he doesn’t *coughcough* SQ getting through the fence *coughcough*

ugly grey tower hehe - but I get the fence part, for sure

Milligan trying to apologize and there’s almost this underlying defensiveness when Curtain asks “For what?”

Lol Garrison willingly seeking treatment - also love that Curtain doesn’t quite directly answer it - what a guy 

AHAHAAAA Curtain casually mentioning “paternity leave” and the adoption and then “gesturing to the basinet next to his desk, where SQ was silently observing them” I just absolutely love that with my whole soul

““And I’m grateful for your support,” Curtain reassured him (though it was clear by the look on his face that he took offense to the idea that his parenting skills were questionable), “but right now, I need some time alone to bond with my son, help him adjust to his new life, and finish getting our affairs in order. I hope that as a friend you can respect that.”” AHAHAAAA - our mans getting offended at the notion that somebody else offers to help take care of SQ because he’s a strong independent individual who don’t need no friends

Also saying that he’s fine - we’re all fine, Curtain, sure... sure... 

oh and we have everything under control??? sure, my friend... sure - me too haha

SQ in a high chair my freaking HEARTTT - and Curtain’s “Do not laugh at me,” he lectured, “That was extremely disrespectful” AND THEN “If you cannot use your bottle appropriately, then I will do it for you.” I don’t quite know what it is about this but it’s just so cute and wholesome and you really see that he’s trying

THE PARENTING BOOKS - again, he’s really trying. I can understand why Milligan would want to check in on them every now and then, but Curtain is doing the best he can considering he’s never had a great example or something to follow from previous experience with a father.

The Whisperer technology - I just love how you’ve written it and I love that you can see all these breakthroughs and how much potential it has - very very fascinating and fun to think about!!

“...but taking control back was finally making him feel secure again. He had learned through his experiences with Nicholas that controlling others made them despise you, but the recent tragedy involving his friends had opened his eyes to the consequences of allowing others to act freely. Perhaps controlling others was an objectively a bad thing, but it was also a necessary evil...One could disagree with the methods, but it was hard to argue with the results.” I can totally see his thinking process here - and the scary part is that he’s kind of right. Granted, shouldn’t start controlling the world, but he kinda right.

It’s also just kinda sad that he’s willing to go to that extent to protect them - even if they hate him. He’s so used to people not liking him that he just... yeah. and then he decides that he just needs to show them how out of control and heeeerrreee comes his god complex

hehe - the burden of greatness line from his dramatic color coded diary - but I also want to tell you I really appreciate the parallels, and I also very much appreciate that you can always see the clear reason of the chapter title while you read the chapter. I don’t know what it is about it that brings me so much joy but it does and I notice it. So thank you. :)

“Although… he supposed the projections from the Whisperer could be piggybacked off and hide behind already existing signals, like the signals that came from television and radio.” just like that one line from Stranger Things - “I piggybacked from a pizza dough freezer” but seriously, I think the Whisperer tech is absolutely fascinating and has so many purposes and potentials

okay and then he starts comforting SQ and tells him that he’ll take care of everything - and then our classic season one ending line “this could be interesting” - kinda ominous knowing what happens in the next several chapters

———————

My good heavens, friend! Another freaking amazing chapter (okay all of them are amazing and bring me an extraordinary amount of joy) and I’m almost halfway caught up with posting the notes!

Again - thank you @nobody33333333 for literally everything - baby SQ, being able to see more sides of Curtain and being able to empathize and yet still see his schemes and the motivations and trauma and hurt behind them... This is an intricately written story and I cannot thank you enough for sharing it with us all!

[underburningstars]

Tony and peter's son ben get into a fight at school and is suspended because he was helping his classmate from being bullied and bully talking shit about ben's parents

Hope you like this anon.

This is also a prompt fill up for the 'Canon Fix it' square of SFSummerBingo22 @starkerfestivals

on ao3

–––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

When Tony snapped his fingers to defeat Thanos, for a moment Peter thought that it was the day he'd lose everything.

But then Doctor Strange stepped forward and the next thing he knew was Tony joking with the rest of them about being too cool to die a martyr. Then he looked at Peter with a smile filled with fondness and adoration and Peter feels his world bloom.

Things started slow between them. Really, really slow. With Tony reluctantly accepting the magic in his body and Peter adjusting be being alive in a world that has moved in without him, the next time they sit in one place us quite a few months after.

One day Tony texted him asking if he wanted to go to his lab and Peter said yes, because of course he did. It's not like Peter's never been to Tony's lab. He did. Sometimes when he needed help with his suit or when Tony came up with new upgrades. But it's been so long, longer for Tony, that Peter finds himself being nervous.

But when he entered the lab Tony beamed looking at him and all of Peter's anxiousness flew away.

It became a thing. Between them. Peter would go to the lab once or twice a week. They'd work on their respective suits, eat takeout and watch movies. It was something that continued and didn't stop even when Peter went to NYU, graduated and became an actual SI employee.

Sometimes, Peter found Tony looking intently at him. But he would tell himself that it was his wishful brain making up the heat in Toby's eyes. When Tony touched him, his hands would linger and Peter told himself that it was because Tony was a tactile man. MJ called bullshit though. And so did Ned.

Trusting his friends Peter tried to return Tony's looks and touches. And Peter should've expected the result. But he didn't. Even when he was sitting on Tony's lap, making out with him in abandon, he couldn't believe this was happening.

Later, he'd blame Tony's wicked tongue doing unimaginable things inside his mouth, one of his hands in Peter's hair and the other kneading his ass, for his ability to not think. (He was not a dumbass MJ. Thank you very much.)

Things...escalated pretty quickly from there. Ned was nice enough to not say 'I told you so'. MJ not so much. When Ms. Potts found out she was more annoyed that Tony was dating an employee than anything else.

Smoothing things out with May was a little difficult. But in the end she just told him to be careful and promised to kill Tony if he hurt him.

Fast forward twenty years, they're married with a 17 year old prodigal kid, Ben who apparently got into a fight in school. Unbelievable. "I can't understand how you're so calm about this." Peter said for the hundredth time.

"Kids get into fights, honey. It's normal. And Ben's such a wonderful kid. It's probably no issue." Tony tried his best to soothe his husband. But it was actually having the very opposite affect.

"Yes. Exactly! He's such a nice boy. Why would he get into a fight. Something big must've happened." Peter was agitated. Almost vibrating out of his seat.

"We freaking out won't help him. Our kid needs us and we'll help him. Seeing us like this will scare him more." Tony reasoned.

"Yeah, yeah you're-you're right. I just-I don't understand."

"You're right. Ben's not the type of kid to randomly get into a fight. Something must've happened. We're gonna see what it is and we'll help him through it, okay?"

"Okay. Yeah okay. Thank you Tony."

"Always baby." Soon they reached the school went inside the Principal's office. On one of the chairs Ben was sitting with slipt lips and another kid was sitting beside him with a bruised jaw and kis parents.

Peter instantly went and hugged Ben close, "What happened, honey?" But Ben just looked at the floor, hunched into himself.

"Mr. and Mr. Stark, please sit down." The Principal - Ms. Autumns - tells them. "Now. Ben, Jacob can you please tell us what happened?"

The boy - Jacob - talk first, "I don't know what to say. We're just chatting there when Stark suddenly attacked us. He-"

"You're lying." Ben interfered. "You were bullying the freshman. Like you always do."

Jacob started to talk but Ms. Autumns stopped him. "Mr. and Mrs. Williams. You're both well aware that this isn't the first time Jacob has been addressed for bullying, right?" They both nod solemnly. "If we ask the freshman Mr. Lee, he'll not say anything in favor of your son. Last time this happened I gave you all a warning. But not again. Maybe it's our fault for not being able to teach proper behavior. So I think it'll be better if you take him to a different school."

Mr. and Mrs. Williams started to protest but a hard look from Mrs. Autumns pulled them short. Quickly they shuffled out of the room with their son.

"Ben," she addressed him, "you're not in the wrong here. You protected a student. It was good." She then looked at Peter and Tony. "But rules are rules. And forgiving him will instigate more violence. The unwanted type. So two weeks of suspension and a month of detention."

On the way to home, Ben is sitting in the back seat firmly looking down. "What you did wasn't bad, kid." Tony sighs. "Really it wasn't. And I know it's extremely hypocritical of us to say it but violence isn't the answer to everything."

"Yeah Benny." Peter agrees, "You should've called for a teacher. Asked them for help."

"I was gong to." Ben replies. "I asked them to stop and when they didn't I was doing to look for a teacher. But then he said that I was running away. That I-I wasn't a real man because my parents are...fags." Both Peter and Tony inhale sharply at that. "Then I just punched him. And you know the rest."

Peter and were silent for the next few moments when Peter finally broke the silence, "You did good. He deserved to be punched."

"Yeah sport. You probably did everyone in the school a favor." Tony says. "Hey wanna get pizza. It's been long since we've had a family outing."

"Oh, oh. I want ice cream too."

"Hey! Not so much junk food!"

"Aww. Don't ruin the fun Peter."

"Come'on Dad."

And chaos ensues.

[artfulfable]

Beginning of the End - 1

The end had been slowly coming for almost a decade, but for Keith it began with a phone call. They’d been at home together, affectionate and enjoying the time alone, when Brian’s phone broke the quiet moment they’d been building. Keith had thought nothing of it, just turned his attention back to making coffee while Brian talked. 

Their morning had been slow and peaceful after getting Junior off to school, climbing into the shower together and tumbling into an unexpected intimacy. Brian set the tone, and the tone was sweet, and it was a sort of rarity to have Brian in such a soft mood. Keith had simply basked in it, felt alive in it, his mind quiet besides the constant hum of love. 

‘He did what?’

Keith blinked. The harshness in Brian’s voice twitching his ears. He watched him as he paced the entrance to the kitchen. A slow dread spreading in his stomach at the fight of emotions on his husband’s face. Anger. Worry. Concern. The sharp, stinging blame when his eyes snapped to look at Keith. The softness of the morning ripped from his gaze.

He could piece together an ugly picture from the snippets he heard. A fight. An ambulance. Junior, suspension or expulsion. Brian’s short, sharp answers, those green eyes a cocktail of fear and fury.

‘I’ll send his father to pick him up from the gate. I’m sorry. We’ll be in touch.’

Keith made to get his keys, coffees left forgotten and half made. 

Brian hung up the call and the accusation in his voice was deafening. ‘Junior got in another fight. Beat a kid almost to death and won’t tell anyone why.’

He saw the bait. The hook. He didn’t take it. ‘I’ll get him. See if he’ll talk ta me.’

‘They’re gonna suspend him. Probably have to expel him, especially if the kid’s family push for it.’

‘Heard that. We’ll talk about it later, let me get him first, see if I can make sense of what happened.’

Brian scowled as Keith walked past him, out the front door to his car. Let out a bitter, humorless laugh. ‘What sense do we need to make of it? Always has taken after his father.  I’m sick of having meetings with the fucking principal about his temper, Ranner.’

Keith bit his tongue with a grunt. Clenched his jaw. Got in the car and pulled away without a word but a bubbling anger in his gut. Resentment so strong it felt like poison before he pushed it down and away. Like always.

Junior had been waiting for him when he pulled up. Looked up when he heard the rumble of the old impala and watched the car approach with a stubborn frown. Climbed into the passenger side without a word, face bruised and battered, lip split and swollen. 

Keith sighed, a little proud and a little heartsick, saw the stubborn look in his eyes and decided to drive the long way home. Give him time to think if he wanted to talk about it. Tried to imagine the inevitable meeting with the principal that was coming. Felt a headache coming on and decided it was better not to think about it yet. Wasn’t the first fight Junior had gotten into, even if it was the most serious.

It took a while. The silence stretching but not uncomfortable. Free of judgment. Then Junior spoke, simply said, ‘He deserved it. He was being a cunt.’

Keith’s lip twitched even as he chided, ‘Language, ya too young for that.’ But he didn’t doubt the truth of it. Glanced sidelong at his son and saw the sullen anger still simmering in him. ‘Wanna talk about it?’

Shook his head. Stared out the windshield, not looking at him. 

Keith shrugged. ‘’Kay. I think ya should, better ta get it out then leave it in, but ya don’t have to.’

Something in the boy softened, and Keith was surprised to see his eyes shining with tears. But all he said was, ‘Okay.’. Keith didn’t push him. Shifted to drape his tail across his lap as he drove, smiled softly when Junior took it in his hands and held it.

He knew he should ask about it. Make him tell him what happened, and he knew he could if he pushed hard enough. But when Junior glanced at him, eyes full of that stubborn protectiveness Keith knew too well, he couldn’t bring himself to. Had a good enough feeling what it was about. Guilt gnawed at him like it so often did. He’d hoped that Junior would avoid the consequences of who his father was, and not for the first time he cursed that Brian had convinced him to name their son after himself. 

Keith Ranner Junior wasn’t so subtle to begin with and once school started it hadn’t taken long before word spread from kids to parents and back again. Some avoided him. Some parents refused to let their kids share a class with him. And then some kids decided to talk shit and see how long it took before that Ranner temper made an appearance.

It made him ache that his son had to suffer from the things he’d done. To see him bruised and bloodied for his name felt like Keith had done the beating himself.

So he didn’t push. Filed it away and promised himself he’d talk to him about it later and see if that’s what had happened. He reached and gently stroked the boy’s hair as he drove, and was rewarded with a soft sigh and his shoulders relaxing.

‘Is…is momma mad?’

He sighed a little heavier than he meant to, felt Junior’s hands tense around his tail. ‘A little. Ya know how he is. He’ll calm down about it, don’t worry too much.’ 

He didn’t add that it wasn’t really Junior he was mad at. It wasn’t even really Keith. No, Brian Reed was furious at himself and Keith knew he’d have to bear the brunt of his temper. Again. He just hoped that maybe he’d settle for pushing him around instead of hitting him because that was easier to brush off. Still had faded bruises from the last time Brian had thrown fists.

The resentment coiled hotly in his gut. Hand gripped the steering wheel until it creaked and he forced himself to relax.

‘Are you mad, poppa?’

‘No. Hm, well, yeah but not at you.’ 

‘Okay.’ 

Keith took up his hand when they stopped at traffic lights, pressed the bruised knuckles to his lips. ‘Never mad at you, sweetheart, remember that.’

(I dunno how well writing goes on here, especially for ocs, but hey I might as well put it SOMEWHERE :) Brian and Keith love each other a lot but uhhhh there’s A LOT of trauma and toxic behaviours between them and it impacts their relationship with their son a lot.

a lil added context, Keith is a [reluctant] gang leader at this point with a notorious temper, and Brian has intense internalized homophobia and trauma about his relationships with men that make him stupid)

[naomana]

I'm getting more young leo and frank brainrot (I don't know if we ever did get more insight into their backstory but): I like to think they met as kids and leo's line to vito: "but I figured joe there is your best friend.. you guys grew up together, just like me and frank.." just made my brainrot sky rocket. I'm obsessed with frank seeing leo around at school during their early teens and with leo being a bare-knuckle boxer later on in his life, I wonder if he got into a scuffle every now and then with another kid during break. frank started picking up on it, started worrying about it: "I admire his bravery but holy fuck he's going to get himself killed-" and I imagine, like joe, frank would have his own petty local gang and he wouldn't mind having this wound up angry amoeba on his side. although I do like to think that even though he was quite untrained and messy in a fight then, leo was still brutal - he just became a lot more graceful later on in his life when he became a young adult and was stronger.

I may be in love with this picture of leo in my head: a young leo in a dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up, suspenders and slacks, some nice shiny brogues. he always looks so closed off and quiet, but he eventually warms up to frank and joins his gang and starts getting real good at fighting as they get older. they both start maturing and leo slowly develops into what he's like when he's older. I mean he would've even then, as a child had those traits he had when we see him in game. frank would suggest something wild and seventeen year old leo would and will complain frank's ears off, even at this age playing the role of a consigliere - trying to fool proof every idea frank has without intentionally meaning to, he's just a whiny bitch lmao.

I love thisbdjdj stop grtting me more hooked on these two idiots djdj

I can imagine Leo getting constantly hit on by anybody, with his looks (blonde hair and blue eyes?!) and if it's a guy, he's really flustered but has to keep his name clear ya know

[officermaddie23]

Drachenfire being annoyed for 5 minutes straight by her Gargoyle minions and her kids

Maddie Drachenfire: Young man don't even think about eating that cake you'll spoil your appetite

Gregory: FUCK OFF MOM

Maddie Drachenfire: WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY TO ME YOUNG MAN

(a few minutes later)

The Gargoyle minions: MINE MINE MINE MINE MINE MINE MINE MINE MINE MINE MINE

Maddie Drachenfire: OH WOULD YOU JUST SHUT UP I CAN'T EVEN HEAR MYSELF THINK

(a few moments later)

Maddie Drachenfire (on the phone with Gregory's school): Your kidding right? He got in another fight with Oswald? HE'S SUSPENDED FOR HOW LONG? Alright I'll come get him!

(when they are in the car)

Maddie Drachenfire: Gregory I can't believe you got into another fight at school

Gregory: Oswald asked for it

Maddie Drachenfire: Gregory this is the 4th time this month that you have gotten suspended you just wait until your father gets home

Gregory: WHATEVER BITCH

Maddie Drachenfire: GREGORY

[a-table-of-fics]

Cull to Adventure, Chapter 17, Draft 1

Cull stormed out of the Kettle, tossing the Blaster aside. He didn’t care if it clattered against the railing or fell over at this point. Barely holding back tears, he marched past a concerned Marie, stopping when he got to one of the many Bounce Pads in Slimeskin Garrison.

“…You okay, Agent 4?”

He didn’t say anything, but he started to curl his tentacles up, wrapping his hands around his cuts once more. He only tensed more when soft footsteps approached him, even withdrawing to a corner once Marie got close enough.

“Look, kid, it’s fine. We can try again later, and we could get Sheldon to provide a different weapon…”

“N-no…” Cull muttered. “I just… I just don’t kn-know.”

Marie sighed. Callie was always better at this kind of thing.

“If it means anything,” she said, “you can’t be good with every weapon. I mean, you should see me with Rollers. Not that I’ll let you; Callie’s already got that blackmail.”

A snicker. Well, that was a start.

“Come on, Cull. You were able to take out those Octoweapons, and you didn’t think you could fight a few days ago!”

“I-I was only able to do it…”

“With our help?” Marie finished his thought. “Yeah, don’t worry about that. No squid I know of can do it alone. Even Gramps had a Splatoon back in the day.”

“Yeah?”

“You ever hear of Craig Cuttlefish?”

“Er…” Cull thought for a moment, before his eyes widened. “N-no way, the Captain Cuttlefish?! Hero of Squidkind? B-but…”

Marie nodded, but her smile soon fell as Cull’s astonishment did the same. She could see it in his face: the question of “What am I doing here?”

“Everyone’s gotta start somewhere, Agent 4. And you’ve had a pretty good one; I’m sure he’d be proud if he was here.”

“O-oh, I’m s-sorry…”

“Hm? Oh, oh no, he’s fine, he’s just with Agent 3 on a separate mission. Helping refugees in Octo Valley, I think. Not sure how, but I’m sure they had a plan.”

She shook her head.

“Anyway, you’re doing fine. You made the right call in coming back, though; Sheldon said they were ready to shut the respawners down.”

She tapped her chin, looking at the discarded blaster.

“Speaking of Sheldon, I won’t tell him you tossed that if you won’t.”

“B-but what about the Zapfish? It m-must be so scared in there…”

“Trust me, they’ll reactivate once you paint the town blue somewhere else. Now c’mon, Sheldon wouldn’t let me hear the end of the weapon he’d been developing. Apparently a modified Brella. You might like this one!”

It didn’t take very long for Cull to take to the Brella. The recoil-inducing blast was good at scaring off Octarians, if not splatting them outright, and the shield helped reduce the pain coming his way. Of course, he tried to keep it on him as much as possible, but eventually he had to let go of the small ink jets on it and let the stupid thing fly, lest it drain his ink endlessly. At least he was able to follow the thing as he recovered enough ink to shoot again.

“Perhaps you’d be interested in the Tenta or Undercover varieties if you want the shield on for longer…”

“Now’s not the time to sell, Sheldon.”

Cull soon made it to another launchpad, landing… nowhere. There was no way forward, though he landed smack dab onto a respawner. Nothing but the tiny ink platform he was on. Was this a trap? Was he stuck?

No, there! In front of him were wooden crates suspended above the smog. Maybe he could jump to those, and hopefully whatever made them float could hold his weight. He wasn’t terribly worried about the Power Eggs at this point, but maybe they’d help guide him if he made it over there.

There wasn’t much room for a running start, but Cull was no stranger to daring leaps. Squid Jumping was out of the question. Not that he had to worry about anyone seeing him, but he doubted those boxes could withstand such an impact. No, he had to just run up and reach out…

His fingers grasped the edge of the closest crate. He had made it, with no issue until his body hit cold metal. He hadn’t thought of the Octarians having invisible tech like what hid the Kettles.

Marie’s silence was deafening, and Cull blushed, orange ink making his face glow in the artificial night.

“Ehe, y-yeah, I’ll ju… I’ll just…”

He fired, starting to add orange to the air. The painting started tentatively, with small steps and even smaller progress, but then a thought occurred to him. He started aiming more carefully, but he took wider strides. His aim was true, but he was pointing in odd directions.

“You all right there?”

Marie’s question fell on deaf ears. Still, Cull fired, making sure not to launch his Brella. Such a thing could ruin his plans. He scraped his foot against the ink, making a thin line, and his plan was clear.

“C’mon, you still got a Zapfish to…”

She trailed off as she pivoted the camera just a bit. It wasn’t nerves after all; now, a massive orange octopus was wrapping its arms around thin air, guiding Cull on the proper path. She noticed the glow disappear from Agent 4’s face as he concentrated on his work, and to his credit he was making quicker progress past this part. Best not to interrupt him.

She thought that, but then she saw him step back, almost to the edge of the platform. He was leaning forward, preparing to sprint!

“Hey, what are you--?”

Too late. He ran forward and leapt towards the next half-painted platform. He landed this one with ease, not even losing balance. He turned around, looking at all he inked. A couple shots more, and he nodded satisfactorily.

He turned to face the Flooder that was patrolling its own little floor. Marie almost didn’t notice, what with the artwork. Even if it was a little rough from being made by gunshots, it was an admirable abstraction.

More impressive to Marie, though, was the confidence of it all. Agent 4 wasn’t shaking, he wasn’t hesitating, and he wasn’t stammering. By all rights, he was in his element. Even Agent 3 wasn’t nearly as fast with the invisible platforms.

“Hey, not bad, kid! You think you could sign it from Agent 4?”

Ah. There was the blush again.

“I-I dunno about that…” Cull replied. “It was j-just a dumb thing I was—”

“Stop that,” Marie scolded, harshly. “Do not say that about what you do! The last thing any Inkling needs is for their stuff to all be ‘dumb little things’. And I should know; I…”

She sighed.

“…I was like that, and if Callie wasn’t there, I’d still be doing that. That’s no way to make a music career, lemme tell you, and I don’t think that’d take you far in art, either. So I don’t want to hear it. Got it, Agent 4?”

She saw him nod before bending down, taking some of the ink with his finger and scrawling next to that tentacle.

“Once that’s done,” Marie said, “We can clear out this joint and plan our next move. I should talk to Sheldon about a weapon I think you’d like, but that might take a bit. For now, remember you can launch your Brella’s shield. Looking past those Flooders, you’re gonna need that feature…”

About six minutes later, Cull was out of the Kettle, with his head higher than Marie had seen up to that point. His feet were far lighter with each step, practically walking on air. He was humming the strange vocals from that base, and Marie caught herself with those bars too. They were catchy, and oddly familiar…

Marie frowned.

“Hey, Agent 4?” she asked, thankfully pausing that song. “You did great there!”

“Y-you think so?” he asked, giving the Zapfish another pat before handing her over. “I was just doing some drawings and…”

“You got a Zapfish pretty easily there at the same time! I bet they’ll appreciate the octopus and that… what was it again?”

“Oh, that? It was just a pattern of the seas. Figured a bit of extra texture at that would be cool to see those Squee-Gees suck up…”

Cull’s smile started to waver.

“Y-you think that’s okay? I mean, we’re on a mission for the Zapfish and Callie… a-and leaving this kind of stuff could t-trace us…”

“Eh, I doubt it. They just know you’re Agent 4, nothing else. If anything, just make sure they don’t know who you or I am while we’re on the job, okay?”

Marie gave a smile, patting him on the back.

“So, you ready to bring that energy to another rescue?”

“Well… I-I guess I could try that stupid Blaster again.”

“Please do be careful with it this time,” Sheldon suddenly said over the intercom. “That one’s still in testing.”

Cull glowed green, trying to avoid eye contact with anyone as he heard the Shel-Drone buzz come closer. He silently accepted the weapon case, staring at it for a second before opening it.

“…Y-you don’t mind if I take a sec to practice, do you?”

It didn’t take long for Slimeskin Garrison to be covered by rough pictures made from exploded ink. Some of them were simple stick squids with bulbous tentacles, while others were exaggerated fireworks. Cull sighed contentedly, looking at his Blaster. He felt he had a better grasp on how this gun worked, or at least enough to get through the next five to ten minutes.

“A-alright, let’s d-do this.”

Once he dove back in, he took a moment to check the hexagonal monitors that adorned the cavern walls. Green scan lines concealed an abundance of numbers and graphs, their meanings unknown from where Cull was standing.

More worryingly, he saw a wireframe model of himself on a nearby wall, wearing his Agent garb. A line not unlike a heart monitor suddenly had a spike next to it as Agent 4 gazed at this. How did he miss this the first time? How did they…?

He let the Blaster fall, frantically searching himself for any kind of device that would lend the Octarians his biometrics.

“Hey, what’s the matter, Agent 4?”

“We m-might be compromised,” Cull said, between breaths. “D’you see the s-scans of me up there?!”

His eyes widened in realization. His hand went from pointing at the monitor to clasping at his headset.

“Those… those Octolings took my headset before they took me over t-to that Octostomp…”

“But Sheldon was able to… Oh no.”

Cull could hear Marie sharply inhale, and see his heartrates quicken on the monitor.

“I-I’m sorry, so much happened I didn’t e-even…”

“Stay calm, Agent 4. I should have talked to… our tech about it. We’ll take a look once your done, but for now, we’ll have to… color within the lines. Er, remember the Rule of Thirds as you make your first stroke.”

Cull blinked. It took a moment, but realization was kicking in. He slowly lifted his hands up, trying to cover his tentacles, even as the green glow seeped through his fingers. He grit his beak, giving a mock gag.

“You… we’re not doing t-this…”

“The eraser’s dried, kid,” Marie grinned. “Just make it through and we can get you a reference mirror.”

Agent 4 groaned, but lifted his Blaster up. If nothing else, Marie was giving him motivation to get this over with as soon as possible.

“R-right… Guess I need to, ugh, give a second coating to the horizon.”

He just hoped Marie could understand that one; he was not doing any more of this than he had to.

“Quick transparency adjustment,” Marie said as Cull made it back to the Grapplinks, “Remember to use the ruler for consistent dotting.”

Cull’s ears would have drooped if they weren’t wrapped in headphones. He looked up, and saw the hearts monitor increase its frequency.

“Okay…” he sighed, steadying his aim, “just… er, tell me the g-grid dimensions.”

“Every half-centimeter, from the looks of it.”

Right. He could handle that. He took a deep breath, though his heartrates didn’t lower. He could still confirm that with ease, at least. He took an uneasy step back before running forward, trying to count the seconds in his head.

One sea- One sea- One sea-

It was tricky to keep track with the wind zipping around him as he himself zipped towards the next Grapplink. The looming threat of a prolonged plummet to buildings unknown didn’t help matters, but he persisted, quickly kidforming between pulls and firing once more. It was reminding him of that Squid Beatz 2 game everyone flocked around, but somehow, this one was less stressful.

He soon made it to the platform on the other side, mentally finishing his count with ­-side shell and taking a few deep breaths.

“…D-does the, ugh, grid n-need realignment?”

“No, but you’re going to be making more precise marks. Try not to get out of alignment.”

Cull swallowed. It’d be worth it for the Zapfish, of course, but he just hoped this wiretapping could be removed soon. He wasn’t sure he could take this nonsense for much longer.

“G-gotcha,” he said before opening fire once more.

Pop, bang, whoosh! Pop, bang, whoosh! Pop, bang, whoosh!

Pop, bang!

Cull flailed as he fell once more. He really couldn’t do it, huh? One simple Grapplink challenge was enough to do him in? Why was he still allowed to be an Agent if he couldn’t get this down? Sure, he rescued a few Zapfish, and he did defeat massive weapons of war, but…

No buts. He did do all that, didn’t he? He just had to keep—

Splat!

He looked at the Grapplinks once he made it back to the Respawner. He frowned, but he wasn’t shrinking back.

“Just erase and—” Marie started.

“Go over that line again,” Cull said, flatly. “Right.”

He took aim and fired. Once again, the first part gave him an easy rhythm to shoot to, quickly swinging him to that Cod-bleached second part. He took a deep breath, and fired.

Pop, bang!

Here he was, falling once again. He didn’t make it this far to unceremoniously plummet to his death, though. He silently thanked Sheldon for modifying the Splat Bombs. There was no way he’d have enough ink if it wasn’t for that guy, but as it were, he could make one last attempt and…

Bang, whoosh!

He saved it! No time to celebrate, though; he still had one last Grapplink to reach…

Pop, bang, whoosh!

That was it! He finally made it across, landing straight onto another respawner. It glowed green, and he allowed himself to breathe once more.

“Finally made it!” he sighed.

“Nice work!” Marie replied. “Now, we just need to paint the ceiling and floor!”

“Shut up!”

Cull blinked, stunning himself into silence. No sound came through his headset either, leaving him to listen to the strange, reversed singing over a snappy beat, his heartbeats slowly synching with the rhythm.

“I-I’m sorry,” he mumbled, quiet as a minnow. “I d-don’t know what—”

“Passionate about it, huh?” Marie replied.

Cull swore he heard a soft chuckle.

“Sorry, kid. Probably shouldn’t’ve stretched it that far. Let’s just see… erm, what the other two acts are. Right.”

There was gentle humming as Cull used the Launchpad to fly back to the main hub, key in hand. He watched the wall in front of him lower as he unlocked one of three buttons.

“So the next two look like… a tightrope course and, er, the entry of the clowns. You ready?”

Cull sighed. It was better than before, at least, but he couldn’t believe he got that worked up about it.

Still, no point dwelling on that when he still had two more switches to unlock. He had the uncomfortable feeling that this activity was being specially recorded, but what could he do? There was still a Zapfish to rescue, and he could only hope Sheldon could clear that data. And why were they sending Octarians to fight him? If they were trying to gather intel, would splatting him repeatedly really help…? And what kind of science lab sent its own people into harm’s way?

He shook his head. He really couldn’t dwell on anything other than getting out of here.

A few minutes later, Cull was out with the Zapfish. He was sweating, but both them and the Blaster were at the garrison in one piece. Good thing, too; both Sheldon and Marie were there. The Zapfish quickly swam over to Marie while Sheldon walked over to Cull.

“Right,” Sheldon nodded, “let me fi—er, show’s over, we need to tune the circus out and go back to private radio…”

“Good save,” Marie interjected. “Might as well take a break, Agent 4. Call it an intermission, whatever, but it’s going to be a bit. We’ll let you know when things are ready again.”

Clunk!

Sheldon had sealed the headset into a steel case, and brought out a weapons box for the Blaster.

“Now that it’s in a Faraquay cage,” he said happily, “we can talk freely! So, Agent 4, I heard you had some issues with the Blaster at first. Is there anything in particular that gave you issues? I’ve been wondering how to make it more intuitive…”

“J… just not used to the slow fire,” Cull admitted. “Hard to get a good rhythm with your shots.”

“Ah, that’ll be a bit difficult to work out,” Sheldon admitted. “Gotta get the right amount of pressure to get that ink blast going as far as it does. You’ll lose out on range or maybe power when I mess with that…”

“Y-you don’t have to do that,” Cull said, waving his hands. “I’ll b-be fine with some practice.”

“Could also be a poor fit for you,” Marie shrugged. “Nothing wrong with that.”

Sheldon nodded, smiling as he shut the case again.

“Anyway, I’ll be taking a look at their tampering. Octarian tech is a modern marvel, really. All those floating platforms and teleporting… it’s really something. Just wish they didn’t mess with my product like this, you know?”

“Yeah, I get that,” Marie replied. “But you wouldn’t happen to have a replacement in the meantime, would you? We still have a cous—city to save.”

“Way ahead of ya!” Sheldon said, reaching into a pocket and revealing an identical headset. “I took the liberty of upgrading it, too. Patented Ammo Knights technology allows for greater reception than ever over greater distances! What’s more, there’s now brand-new tamper detection; as soon as it’s been opened, it’ll give a signal to this device here. Just keep it inside your vest, okay? It’ll even use a second channel hidden so we can still chat!”

“W-wow,” Cull gaped, taking the new headset. “Thank you! Your really didn’t n-need to—”

“Come on, Agent 4!” Marie interjected. “Of course we had to! You’re a great Agent, but even the best get outplayed or out-lucked.”

“Aw, th-thanks. I don’t really think—”

“Good. Focus on inking, remember?”

[unknownjpegs]

capture

They’d usually leave these ones alone. SAS soldiers aren’t to be fucked with, and it’s more trouble than it’s worth to get information out of them. One, because they’re trained well and  nobody’s got the fucking patience to bother, and two because they’re a bit more protected than other groups. Just as expendable as everyone else, of course, but a special forces trooper is more likely to draw attention than some no-name, nondescript merc kid gone missing.

But sometimes, exceptions are made. When a group of KorTac guys, bloodied and limping with busted-lips, bring in the kicking and.curse-spitting SAS medic, Bunny asks König what that particular exception had been.

In his careful, precise accent: “Knocked a few teeth. Being fucking annoying. Does not shut up.” 

Mouse will relate to her later that he’d gone up against three operators, broken a tibia with a nasty, sneering stomp and crimson-streaked grin. That it had taken König’s hulking strength to get him in any sort of subdued state to bring in. 

Seem way too into that leg crush, Bunny tells her, pointing with her smoldering cigarette. 

It was, Mouse offers, fingers clasped under her chin and eyes bright with recollection, so disgustingly cool. He also broke four of Smith’s ribs!

He gets roughed up a bit for the attitude, for the damage he’s done, for some pointed, filthy comments made towards certain familial members. 

Then they bring Bunny in.

Not because she’s any good as an interrogator. Most of the time, KorTac’s got her cozy in an office on base, pouring over documents and using her experience with certain government entities and the British Army to glean info. Bunny gets paid real handsomely for it. Enough that she only feels a bit guilty for the fight she’d had with a particular lieutenant when he discovered her sneaking away one night. 

Mercenaries, Buns? Are you fucking kidding me? You’re setting yourself up to be a domestic terrorist. You’re gonna be on wanted lists, and we’ll have to — Jesus. Have you absolutely lost your goddamn mind? Have you gone full mental? Yeah, you have. You have gone full fuckin’ mental. 

Call me, Bunny had said with her finger and thumb to her ear, and was gone. 

He’d let her go. 

So they bring her in because he’d been found with a paper in his pockets. And Bunny is good with mysterious papers.

“Could be coordinates,” König told her as she entered, handing her the paper. “Could be orders. See if he will tell you which one. Or see if you can figure it out, yourself.”

“And if he doesn’t tell me?” She quirks an eyebrow, looking from the scrawled symbols and letters up at him. “What if he gets out of those zipties and bludgeons me half to death like he did Smith?” She bats her eyes at him.

König huffs in a way that tells her he’s grinning beneath the hood, and claps a hand to her shoulder. “Then Mouse and I will be right outside with a gun and a big knife, and we’ll avenge you.”

Bunny rolls her eyes at him. “Thanks, big guy. Very comforting.”

He’s knelt on the the ground when she goes in. There is blood splattered on the floor in a circle surrounding him, a split in his lip and another across one thick eyebrow. It’s quirked, but his eyes are steely and cold as they follow her around the room. 

“You’re not a soldier.” 

Bunny glances down at herself; button-up shirt and suspenders, dark khakis, sensible loafers. “Fuck, they are training a perceptive new generation, aren’t they?”

His eyes narrow, but his mouth twitches as if he wants to grin. Gotcha, Bunny thinks. Mouthy kid. Of course you respect a little bit of shit talk. 

“Wouldn’t know. Don’t keep up with the training, nowadays.”

“Uninvolved, huh?” Bunny slips her arms over her chest. She tries to slip another needle past the ill-tempered, fast-mouthed medic’s armor: “Feeling disillusioned in the military industrial complex?”

She’s not fully expecting it to work. She is certainly not expecting the wild, sudden chuckle she earns for it. 

“Honestly, ma’am? You nailed it. If m’honest, kinda wanna get home at this point,” the medic says. His monotone is nearly bored, tinged with a snide clip of indignant, grumpy annoyance. As if he’s not trussed up and sporting a nasty, reddening bruise on his swelling cheek. As if his capture is simply a tiny, pesty snag in an otherwise pleasant day.

Bunny likes that. What she doesn’t like is —

“No ma’ams please, thanks.” She leans back against the table, head tilted. A tingle of recognition zips across her vision. 

“Wait. Hold on.”

“Bit of déjà vu?” The soldier offers, lips quirking. “Yeah, same. You —”

“You look familiar.” Her eyes narrow, and then widen on a laugh. “Oh Jesus Christ, you know Simon.” She grimaces, remembering the circumstances of their first encounter and her swirl of annoyed dismay at Simon’s persistently immoral letching. “Ew. You know Simon.”

His eyebrows shoot up, disappearing into the sweaty, dark curls. “Simon. M’gonna guess from that, y’know him too.” He is literally tongue-in-cheek, mouth in a full, knowing smirk. I know why you know him, and you know why I know him.

“What a small fucking world.”

Bunny snorts. “Not really. He’s just been through the entirety of it.” Her arms unconsciously drop, heels on the table either side of her hips. “What’s at home?” 

The soldier laughs again; a barking, loud sort of thing that seems yanked from him. He settles back on his heels, the tense posture dropping to mirror her relaxed form. He shoots Bunny another one of those grins, edged just so with filth, and she could roll her eyes — probably this exact expression that had caught Ghost’s attention in the first place.

“Tall redhead.” He intones, somehow severely serious and suggestive at the same time. “Screen addiction and got a sense of humor that’s pure shite. But nice eyes.” His crooked grin twists. “Big fuckin’ —”

“All right,” Bunny interrupts, both palms up. She finds it very hard to control her own smile. “Okay. Fair.”

And it’s funny, because that’s exactly the type of information they’d need for torture. He’s offering up a hand of cards for them to play. Somebody at home, point of vulnerability to stretch and mold like clay? That’s a weak spot, right there. Usable. If she wanted to, she could call König back in and have him knock a few of the guy’s teeth out. Threaten to do the same to his vulnerability.

Except something tells Bunny that won’t be necessary. So she nods her head and offers a hand signal. Outside the tent, König’s hulking six-something shadow shifts, relaxes. Steps away, rifle dropping from the position it had undoubtedly been in, aiming dead-center on the medic’s chest.

“What’s on the paper?” She pats over the table for the yellow lined notebook page, waves it in the air. 

His cheeks color a bit, ruddy wash over brown skin. Those engaged, disciplined dark eyes go suddenly loose, bouncing away into every corner of the room except the one she occupies.

“It’s not intel.” He sounds sheepish.

“Usually that’s what people with intel say.” 

“It’s not.” He insists. “It’s — fuckin’ hell.” Shake of his head again, curls bouncing. “Embarrassing.” 

She lifts a brow. Go on. Embarrass yourself. It’ll entertain me.

He sighs, steady gaze on the ceiling. “We’re bingein’ some YouTube stuff about Cold War codebreakers, and it’s real dull,” he inclines his head at her little glare, “Hey, sorry. No offense, if that’s what you do, but it is. So he gets bored, yeah? Starts fixatin’ on doing a code for himself, right, and so that paper’s this dumb little note for me and it —”

“God,” Bunny says, “They were right. You don’t shut up, and also I do not fucking care.”

She gets his wrists and ankles untied with her pocketknife — gift from Mouse — because she wants to get rid of him. Not because she’s immediately fond or anything. 

“You should probably,” she says, stepping back to give him space to stand, “be more careful not to get captured anymore. Especially if you want to get home safe so bad. Kinda the wrong career if that’s the case. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“Yep,” he chirps as he gets to his feet. She’s surprised to see he’s much smaller vertical. “Last hurrah I’m on the hook for, this time’ round.” Pats his side. “Last bit before I get my med discharge cleared. Then I’m out, and, y’know.” He shrugs, dazzles her with a full grin. “Home.”

“Home.” Bunny says, head tilted, and then offers a sneering snort. “Christ. That is embarrassing, you know that?”

“Yeah, whatever,” he responds, rolling a stiff shoulder and extending his arms out. The shakes his hands, cracks a few knuckles, and stretches his fingers in a series of movements that seems more habitual than helpful. “Benji, by the way. Didn’t get a chance, last time.” 

Benji sticks his hand out. Sage green SAS gloves, muddy and blood-stained from being thrown around in the dirt and fighting. His brown fingers are warm when Bunny takes them in hers, pumps once.

“Dr. Bunny Sullivan,” she offers, and gives him a warning look when something cheeky slips across his face. “No comments on it, please.”

“Boss,” he says. “Want me to say hi for ya, Dr. Sullivan?” 

“To Simon?”

“Yeah.” 

“Fuck no,” Bunny barks out a laugh and pats him on the cheek. “Fuck no. See you around.”

König, confused but acquiescing to Bunny’s request, gets him an escort out of their territory. And then Bunny’s new favorite empty-headed SAS soldier is loosed unto the world once more. 

“He have info?” König stands beside her, offering a light for the cigarette she tucks into her mouth.

“Nah,” Bunny says, glancing up at him and blowing smoke. “Just really fucking annoying.”

[stupid-dyke]

Literally T****** if ur out there I hope you’re doing well you were so unintentionally funny and quirky even tho I really thought u were going to stab me to death I’m still sorry I called the cops on you

[kpopmakesmeweep]

badboy!yeonjun x innocent!reader 

word count: 21k

angst, fluff, smut

when your teacher asked you to tutor in the beginning of the school year, you were hesitant even then. 

you knew that it meant your lunch period and one study hall for the day were gonna be completely booked, helping younger kids grasp the basic idea that the mitochondria was the powerhouse of the cell.

but then you met one young girl desperate to pass her first test in october and knew your teacher had gotten you, sending a small, defeated smile her way as you gave her the okay to put your name on the list. 

you didn’t expect to come back from winter break with the news that the next student you’d be tutoring wasn’t a sweet 7th grade girl but none other than choi yeonjun. 

the overwhelmingly attractive but horribly intimidating boy who was a year older than you and had, quite possibly, one of the worst reputations the school has ever seen.

if he wasn’t getting suspended for fighting or smoking on school grounds, you’d attempt to block out the mindless gossip about him and all the college girls he’d frequently fraternize with. 

he was in your lunch period when you were a sophomore and he was a junior and you couldn’t help but be fascinated by how handsome he was. how he carried himself and how everyone else seemed to be fascinated by him too.

he was always wearing some variation of black, like his closet was just an empty void of black leather, dark cotton and chains. if he didn’t have on a beanie or hat, his then blue hair was a mess of waves that always made you look a few seconds too long.

you’ll never forget the day that he caught you, your nose in a textbook as you studied for a midterm before a loud shout of his name caught your attention. 

you looked up and watched one of his friends playfully punch him in the arm, something about him hooking up with the older girl he had his eye on first and yeonjun only smirking at him devilishly. 

he didn’t look apologetic or regretful in the slightest, more so like he’d do again just because he could and just because he knew the girl would be eager to have another go with him. 

your breath caught in your throat when his deep brown eyes met yours, his head cocked as he held your gaze with all the confidence and smugness you could never have. 

it took his lips quirking into a cocky smile for you to snap out of it, cheeks warming and stomach churning at getting caught before you dropped your gaze right back down to your book.

it was a quick and thorough reminder that this is where you feel comfortable and this is where you belong - with your nose in a book and your mind on your studies. 

you’ve always intended to just get through high school with good grades and minimal distractions, a small (almost non-existent) friend group that left you able to make straight a’s and work a small, part-time job.

you’d done a pretty good job of that thus far, no bad boys covered in all black and sliver chains to show you that, maybe, getting out of your comfort zone isn’t such a bad thing after all.  

you met yeonjun during your 7th period study hall a week later than intended, him not showing up to either of the periods your teacher informed you both last week. 

you weren’t surprised in the slightest but also wouldn’t dare tattle on him, simply dodging the questions from your teacher or giving her a polite smile and cryptic answer. 

but you couldn’t even stop the way your eyes widened when the library door opened and he was making his way toward you, black beanie placed on his head along with a dark shirt tight across his chest paired with gray sweatpants that made you bite down on your lip.

his hair was pink now, long with a slight wave to it that looked all too soft and inviting to touch; the color probably shouldn’t work on anyone but, of course, it works on him. 

devastatingly attractive in a way that doesn’t seem fair nor human. 

he hasn’t said a word to you, he wasn’t even within six feet of you yet, but you were already scared shitless. you already didn’t trust yourself to be around him and not make a bumbling fool of yourself. 

a pretty smirk crossed his face when he stood in front of you, looking down at you with a playful look in his eye that was far too mocking and sinister. 

“hey. y/n, right?”

you never would’ve pictured this man saying (or even knowing) your name, nor him looking at you so willingly and intensely, but you have to quickly snap yourself out of it. 

this was as professional a relationship could be between two students and you really had to get it together. 

“hi, yes... that’s me,” you say softly. 

so softly that you’re not even sure he can hear it but you can, unfortunately, hear the tremor in your own voice and it’s nothing but absolute embarrassment. 

he happens to like it though, if the way his eyes light up and his smirk widens tells you anything. 

“i’m yeonjun.”

“i know.”

you say the statement far too quickly and it causes your face to warm, your mouth hanging open as the amusement continues to build behind his eyes; you can see with your own that the boy is too handsome for his own good but something tells you he’s probably far too charming as well. 

“i mean... we were supposed to meet last week,” you attempt to clarify.

it seems like a good save, something to make, both, your embarrassment lessen slightly and for him to know you’re aware that he missed the two sessions last week. 

but it doesn’t seem to work, the boy sitting down across from you with all the confidence and smoothness in the world. he leans in closer and you hold your breath, horribly lonely and touch-starved heart fluttering in your chest. 

“i know, sorry about that,” he says, a genuineness in his voice that you can’t help but question. “i was busy with some things.”

you don’t know what to say so you don’t say anything, not even wanting to think about what kind of things keeps a man like him busy.

your teeth sinks into your bottom lip nervously and you can just feel his eyes burning into you, moving across your pink face and down to your soft white sweater; it makes you look every bit as innocent as he’s presumed you to be and he can’t say it doesn’t make him smile. 

“and yet, the teacher didn’t say anything to me about missing.”

you meet his eyes at his questioning tone, so scrutinizing and intense that you feel very grateful about your decision not to blow up his spot; you don’t even wanna know what he looks like when he’s angry. 

or maybe you do, some darker and suppressed part of yourself thinks. 

“that’s because i didn’t tell her,” you say quietly, a lump forming in your throat that you’re trying desperately to push down. “i didn’t wanna....” 

you almost say tattle and you think your face wold turn an unnatural shade of red if that silly word left your mouth in front of him.

so you meekly and sweetly decide on, “i didn’t wanna get you in trouble,” a smile gracing his face that almost makes you feel like you’d done a good job or something. 

and how ridiculous does that sound? you did a good job for the older, delinquent boy - you don’t know what’s gotten into you. 

maybe his smile and his eyes and just the way he’s looking at you is making you feel as if you’re actually something to look at - you’ve never really been observed the way he’s observing you. 

a deep, melodic chuckle leaving his mouth causes you to swallow nervously, watching him with a blank expression because you’re not sure if he’s laughing at you or with you.

your heart stutters when he leans back to stretch, his arm squeezing at the back of his neck; it takes everything in you not to watch his arm flex.

“how’d i know you were a good girl, hm?”

your eyes widen at his words, stomach swooping in a way that’s only ever happened when you watch couples on tv or read about a romance in books. 

because it’s not only his words, it’s the way he carries himself. the way he’s looking at you and speaking to you, the way you never thought anyone would - let alone him. 

he must mistake your utter...shock and fascination for confusion, eyes wide and cheeks flushed and he suddenly wants to place his hand on your cheek. 

see if it’s as warm and soft as it appears to be in this very moment.

“you were in my lunch last year, no?” he hums, looking directly at you with zero ounce of fear and ever bit of confidence. “always with a textbook or writing something.”

he doesn’t remember all the girls that gawk at him but he remembered you immediately. 

caught your gaze early last year and saw something flicker in your eyes, a soft and innocent fascination he wasn’t used to seeing but immediately made him wanna ruin you - he wanted to ruin you and he didn’t even know you. 

he just knew that he’d watch you sometimes, discreetly and quickly, but enough to get his fix.

when he entered the cafeteria and made sure you were sitting there with your your face buried in a book. 

when you’d get up to buy lunch or a bottle of water, pull down your skirt or adjust your hair in a way that made him wanna touch you in a similar fashion.

when you’d leave five minutes early (in what he fantasized was so you wouldn’t be late) and send him one last glance. feel your soft, hesitant gaze on his face and meet it carelessly at the very last second.

just enough to watch you get shy and see the blush so similar to now cross your cheeks. 

he didn’t know your name and he, truthfully, never intended on learning it. because as much as he wanted to truly ruin you, he knew that’s all it was - a dark, twisted fantasy that someone like him shouldn’t act on. 

but then when he walked in and saw you here, the tutor he was dreading to meet in such a familiar position, he knew immediately that you were her. 

the cute girl from his lunch he wasn’t sure was an angel he wanted to protect or someone he wanted to fuck the shit out of. 

you weren’t sure what to think right now, not wanting to get your hopes up or think too much into his question - you were in my lunch last year, no?

think that you were special and he remembers you for reasons far too fantastical so you only nod, figuring he could be taking a guess; there’s only three lunch periods after all. 

“yeah. your hair was blue.”

a smirk crosses his face, chest warming at the fact you remembered him (even though the cocky, confident part inside of him knew you would). 

“yes it was,” he confirms, smiling down at you in a way that makes your heart jump and pound even more. ”i was hoping you’d remember. because i knew i recognized you from somewhere.”

you don’t know how you’re gonna do this. you can barely look at him, how are you supposed to talk to him and teach him twice a week and actually-

“i do wanna ask you something else though.”

your eyebrows pull together at the slight change in his voice, cocking your head to the side as you look at him.

he’s leaning in a little closer now, tiny pink strands hanging from his beanie as his brown eyes bore into yours. there’s still some amusement twinged in his eyes but it all looks very deceptive, unnerving a part of you that your stupid little heart is ignoring. 

he doesn’t allow you to ask him what before he starts talking again. 

“how about we keep these sessions the way they’ve been?” 

your eyebrow raises as confusion continues to plague you; your sessions haven’t even started? 

you haven’t even taught him anything, what could he possibly- but it’s the moment he opens his mouth to speak again, you realize that’s exactly the point. 

“you tell the teacher i’m coming to these and i’ll tell her what a good job you’re doing. how much i’m learning from you and shit.”

a smirk crosses his face when he peers into your eyes, catching the nervous, unsure look in them that only makes his smirk widen - you really are too cute. 

you, on the other hand, don’t know how you feel about his suggestion; you just know how you feel about lying. 

it doesn’t sit well with you and you don’t wanna get in trouble. 

the teacher has a class during this period so it’s not like she’d come down and check but it still makes you incredibly queasy. 

and if he needed tutoring in the first place, he obviously needs help. he’s a senior and needs to keep his grades up so he can graduate. it’d be your fault if he didn’t pass and you’d hate to be the reason he gets-

movement in front of you causes your thoughts to immediately stop, body freezing as you watch him lift his arm and bring his hand to your head. 

he moves a strand of hair from your face before smoothing out the slight crease in your forehead, biting down on his lip when he feels your skin is just as soft and smooth as he suspected. 

“what are you thinking so hard about?”

the deep, low tone of his voice and inquisitive look on his face is dangerous, almost as dangerous as the frantic beating of your heart and the way it’s about to pound out of your chest. 

it’s like he has electric sparks shooting from his hand, making you feel extremely exposed and vulnerable even though his touch is quite gentle and innocent.

“i.... it’s just....” you stutter out, taking a deep breath because you know you need to get it together fast. “you’ve been having trouble, right? that’s... why you needed tutoring in the first place.”

his eyebrow quirks up at your comment and for a split second, you think you’ve offended him. 

“i don’t want you to fail, yeonjun.”

he doesn’t allow himself to dwell on your words, realize that no one has so openly and sweetly said that to him before. or even cared enough to tell him that they don’t want him to fail.

he knows the teachers and counselors get him help because it’s their job. 

he knows his parents bitch and complain about it because they don’t want him repeating high school or wasting their money. 

he knows anyone who says anything to him about it is just doing it to make themselves look like a good person or friend. 

but you just so openly and sweetly said it, a deep concern in your eyes that he knows he can’t dwell on or his similar feelings are gonna arise from last year’s lunch.

where he’s about to throw caution to the wind and do anything and everything he wants to someone as innocent and sweet as you; but he can’t do that and he knows it, he knows that’s why these session can’t happen - on top of the fact that it’s not only you. 

he smokes during lunch and into this period. 

and there’s just no fucking way he’s spending that time suppressing his predatory attraction to you while learning about shit he doesn’t understand and being high as a kite. 

“you don’t gotta worry about me, angel,” he hums lowly, the name falling so naturally and smoothly from his mouth, he doesn’t even realize. “just do that for me, yeah? then you’ll have 7th free.”

you don’t hear much after he calls you angel, just that he’s asking you to do something for him and you’re blindly and dumbly nodding because he just called you that.

and it’s not until he smiles and thanks you deeply, looking over your face once more before saying that he’ll see you around that you realize you’re alone. 

sitting there as you watch yeonjun walk out the door without a glance back and come to terms with the fact you just agreed to lie to your teacher for him.

for almost a month, you were able to keep it up.

it was terrifying and debilitating and it almost sent you into a full blown identity crisis, but you’d somehow managed to do it.

that was until this afternoon, when your teacher cut through the cafeteria during lunch with a cup of coffee in hand and suspicion in the pit of her stomach. 

she saw you sitting there alone, your own books sprawled out around you as you wrote down notes before her short call of your name had your head snapping up. 

her eyes watching you quizzically made your own widen, stomach sinking and heart starting to pound as he she made her way over to you. 

“hi, y/n. where’s yeonjun today? it’s wednesday.”

the period only began ten minutes ago so it wouldn’t be weird for you to say that he wasn’t here yet. that he got held up after class and would be on his way shortly.

but you were just nervous and so bad at lying that you blurted out that he left to go to the bathroom, her eyes roaming the table in what you could only assume was for his books. 

“he took his backpack with him,” you tell her quietly, smiling softly in an effort to hide your guilt and distress. she only hums softly before nodding her head, taking your word for it because why wouldn’t she?

you’re good and studious and wouldn’t ever lie to a teacher.

but then when she comes down to the library next week during 7th period with her class, catching you at the table by yourself, you do it again. 

look her in the face and panic, make a scene of collecting your books as you tell her you forgot you guys were meeting in the cafeteria today - placing the blame on yourself.

you spent the rest of the period in the bathroom, collecting your thoughts and attempting to calm yourself down because you can’t keep lying. 

you haven’t even talked to yeonjun since the first time you met in the library, only seeing him in passing in the hallway or after school. 

he’ll send you a nod paired with his signature smirk and you’ll send him a small smile back, dipping your head before your cheeks flush at the mere sight of his eyes. 

you wish you hadn’t agree to this. 

you wish he didn’t effect you so much and you wish you could tell him you either need to actually help him or tell the teacher he doesn’t want to, because you’re losing your mind. 

you’re anxious and upset and not feeling good about yourself, barely able to look your teacher in the face these days. 

it’s on a friday before lunch, the bell ringing ready to dismiss you from her class, that it all comes crashing down.

she asked you to stay behind for a moment, everything about her face calm and neutral as you made your way over to her desk. 

you were anything but calm as you stood before her, that familiar feeling of dread and guilt rushing in your stomach as you smiled softly at her and asked if everything was okay. 

“yes, i just wanted to say what a great job you’re doing with yeonjun.”

you don’t even know what your face looks like but you know it’s probably the face of someone incredibly guilty, being praised for something you haven’t been doing and taking credit for it even though you know it’s wrong.

the feeling in your stomach confirms all of those feelings, tight and fluttery and buzzing with upset.

“o-oh?” 

“yeah,” she smiles tightly, looking over your face before speaking again. “we just took our third test and he did great. in the low 90s.”

a part of you desperately hopes that to be true, that maybe he started applying himself and somehow started to grasp the material all on his own. you smile at the thought that that’s the case, nodding your head as you, against your better judgment, keep up the facade. 

“i’m happy for him. he’s been working very hard. w-we studied at our last session for it, actually, and he really seemed to be understanding it.”

the contemplative look she gave you should’ve been the first sign that she knew you were full of shit, a quiet hum leaving her mouth. she holds your gaze until the moment you drop it, looking down at your white sneakers until she calls your name softly. 

“y/n... why have you been lying to me?” 

your lips press together as tears prick your eyes, all of the guilt and shame rushing through you at once. 

“he failed his test and i know you guys haven’t been meeting.”

she knows that because you can’t lie. she knows that because yeonjun still doesn’t know anything and all of the students she’s recommended to you have passed with flying colors. 

she knows because when you look up at her, your lip is trembling and it looks like you’re about to burst into tears.

“i... i’m so sorry.”

but even then, even after this moment right here, you’re still not gonna tell on yeonjun. because you don’t want him getting in trouble and you’re not gonna try to excuse your own behavior by admitting you agreed to it. 

you’re just as at fault as the older boy and you’re not gonna pretend you’re not. 

“why have you been lying? you could’ve just told me if you didn’t feel comfortable tutoring him or it wasn’t working out.”

because she knows yeonjun’s reputation. she knows he’s a year older and that you’re one of the shyer students in her class. she was hesitant at first to even put you two together but thought you’d be able to get through to him. 

and because you don’t know what to say, how to make up an excuse that puts neither of you at fault, you don’t say anything. just continue to apologize with teary eyes and a shaky voice before she eventually lets out a sigh. 

“take the next few days to figure it out. try to work on it with him or come to me and be honest that it’s not gonna work. but you didn’t have to lie to me, y/n. i’m a little disappointed in you.”

those words hit you harder than you care to admit, more tears building as you nod your head and quickly leave the room.

you knew from the beginning that it was wrong.

you never felt good about it and you knew it was bad but you still took part in it. she has every right to be disappointed in you and it feels like everything you worked so hard for has been ruined. 

now you look like a liar who can’t be trusted. 

now any time you tell her about another fellow student you’re working with, like the 7th grader you got through to or the 9th grader you helped get an a on their test, she’s gonna wonder if you really did that.

if you really helped them or if you’re just lying about that, too. telling them the answers to their homework or lazily explaining the concepts to them like you don’t work hard with each and every one of them. 

you’re surprised to see yeonjun when you make it to lunch a few moments later, your stomach still in knots and left over tears in your eyes. 

you don’t even realize you’re standing in front of his table until you hear one of his friend’s deep voices, a brash “who are you?” not even filling you with fear. 

you’re only looking at yeonjun pathetically, wide teary eyes and pouty lips in an effort to hold back more tears.

yeonjun’s dressed in his usual attire but you can’t even focus on that, his pink hair flawless against his black shirt and chain hanging around his neck as he adjusts it carelessly. 

soobin’s words catch his attention before your appearance does, looking at the front of the table and taking in the sight of wide, teary eyes and pouty lips; it pulls at something in his chest more than he cares to admit.

“yeonjun, can i talk to you for a second?” 

your voice is wobbly and timid and everything about it so incredibly embarrassing, the tears in your eyes obvious to all the young men around the table. 

you probably look like some girl he slept with and then left on read, begging him for another chance because your heart can’t take not being with him. because you got attached and now it feels like you need him. 

but, really, you just need him to let you tutor him. 

you can’t disappoint the teacher anymore and you had a job to do with him; you should’ve never told him that lying would be okay. 

“who’s this?” his friend asks with a smirk, his hair a bright shade of purple that looks striking next to yeonjun’s. 

“no one,” yeonjun’s quick to snap, looking at you before quickly getting up and guiding you out of the cafeteria by the small of your back. 

he walks down a secluded hallway and out to the garden of the school, looking at the tears in your eyes and feeling himself frown. 

“what happened?”

“i... she found out we haven’t been meeting,” you mumble, feeling silly and childish for crying in front of him about something like this; but you can’t help how you feel, you can’t help feeling sad and guilty about all of this. 

your heart drops when he actually smirks at you, looking over your face with a gaze that’s just as soft as it is amused.

you’re almost positive he’s about to laugh at you, call you a loser for crying over something as juvenile as getting caught in a silly lie and hurt your feelings even more. 

but then you’re quickly stiffening when his hand reaches up, gently brushing at your tears and marveling in just how soft your skin is. 

“that’s why you’re crying?” 

you’re embarrassed to say the least, any words you’d use to justify your reaction caught in your throat - and the smirk on his face isn’t helping either.

“you’re too pretty to cry over stupid shit like that, y/n.”

“it’s not stupid,” you respond, voice shaky and demeanor meek but still able to talk back. 

because it’s not stupid to you. wanting to be nice and studious and a good person isn’t stupid. not wanting to be a liar or someone who goes back on their word isn’t stupid. 

“she trusted me to help you and i lied to her.”

“we lied to her,” he says, voice and eyes teasing as he bends down to be on your level. you think he’s trying to make you feel better, a soft playfulness on his face that does anything but.

because you aren’t like him. 

you aren’t cool and feared and you can’t not care about how you effect other people. 

“why didn’t you just tell her it was my idea?” he asks suddenly, his eyes roaming your face in such a gentle but curious way. “she probably already knows that.”

“i... i didn’t want you to get in trouble.”

he rises to his full height as a small smile crosses his face, your soft voice and sweet words again effecting him far too much. he shouldn’t feel this way toward you and he shouldn’t want to be tutored now.

he shouldn’t be reaching out to touch the smooth skin of your cheek, a few stray tears making his lips fall into the smallest of frowns as you hear his voice the softest it’s ever been. 

“i wouldn’t get in trouble, angel.”

and there’s that word again. making your wet eyes widen and stomach to flutter, wondering how and why that simple word sounds so nice leaving his mouth. 

maybe because you’ve never been called that before. 

could only imagine being called that by someone, let alone him, in such a way. or maybe it’s because it is him, the boy you watched for months on end, forever fascinated by the way he carried himself. 

or maybe it’s because-

“but even if i did, how’s that your problem? why would you care?”

it’s a fair question you suppose but it doesn’t stop you from licking at your lips nervously, an all too familiar (and embarrassing) blush warming your cheeks. 

“i mean... it’s not,” you mutter shyly, not sure if you’re more intimidated by him calling you out or the look on his face. 

but even with those feelings, you’re still able to meet his gaze. 

take in the deep, dark intensity staring back at you in his brown eyes. they’re softer than one would expect, almost soft enough to make you forget what you were wanting to say. 

“but it’s just as much my fault as it is yours. so it didn’t seem fair.”

he smirks so he doesn’t say anything too brash, looking over the blush on your cheeks. his hand itches to move your hair behind your ear, a move he’d always do because he knew it was charming. 

knew it’d get him laid and get a girl’s heart fluttering.

but now he wants to do it just to touch you, feel your hair and skin and watch the blush on your cheeks deepen; but before he can do anything, he’s surprised to hear you speak anything.

“but it’s also not fair to keep lying,” you say softly, a broken little smile crossing your face as you look at him. “i actually really hated the lying... so if you don’t wanna do the sessions, i’m gonna tell her it’s not gonna work for us. but if you change your mind, i’m still free during those periods.”

at that moment, he had every intention of telling you no. 

he didn’t wanna give up his free time and energy to learn about things he’s absolutely sure he’s never gonna need to know after this. 

he didn’t wanna sit through the sessions high or not get high at all, the only way he’s able to cope with the last period of the school day knowing that he could roll a joint in his car with soobin. 

he didn’t wanna resist his obvious attraction and borderline fascination with you, act on it in a way he knows you’re not ready for and in a way he shouldn’t.

but when he walked in the library on monday, the time he told you he’d get back to you, you looked up and smiled at him. it was such a small, quick smile but everything about it called to him.

the twinge in your eyes and the way your hair fell, how even though your smile was small, it lit up your face and made you the prettiest girl he’d ever seen in his life.

at that moment, you were positive he was about to tell you no.

that thanks but no thanks, he’s absolutely not gonna spend his free period being tutored by a younger student who only stutters and blushes in his presence. 

but when he sat down in front of you, a smirk on his face and eyebrow quirked, you couldn’t even hold back your look of surprise. 

a deep chuckle left his mouth when he caught your expression, the sound one of the best noises you’ve ever heard.  

“what? did you think i wasn’t coming back, angel?”

it took you a month to see yeonjun was just as confident and just as much trouble as you’d expected. 

he was far too charming and attractive and funny, a sarcasm and wit in him that made you muffle your giggles like a middle school girl. 

you weren’t used to talking playfully with the people you tutored, always so focused on getting the work done and making sure you were doing a good job explaining the material for them.

but yeonjun always made sure to delay it, attempt to get to know you before you could even discuss his homework or review sheet; and even though it hasn’t been easy, he’s been persistent in breaking down that wall you put up.

“did the flashcards help or do you think you’re more of a-”

“why don’t you ever go out?”

you suppress the urge to let out a sigh as you turn to look at him, his expressive eyes looking over your face.

you’ve gotten used to the feel of his gaze on you, almost like it was burning into your skin and leaving you exposed to the bone, but it didn’t help when you made eye contact.

looked into his eyes and saw him looking back at you so confidently and so easily, you couldn’t help but feel flustered.

“what do you mean?”

you know exactly what he means but it’s the only thing you could think to say.  

you know more than anyone how much time you spend alone in your room, watching tv series and reading books and reorganizing until you don’t even recognize your own space.

but it’s not that you’re bothered by it, that’s what you like going. not going out isn’t something you find bad or upsetting.

“i mean i see people from your grade at our parties a lot,” he hums lowly, his eyes leaving yours only to look at the soft, pastel pink material of your sweater.

“but you’re never there,” he continues, looking at you and cocking his head to the side questioningly. “why’s that?”

“well, i’m not...invited, i guess,” you mumble out, ignoring the way your cheeks warm even more. “i like sticking to myself. and staying home.”

the words and your tone bring a pout to his face, your eyebrow raising at the sight. why is looking at you like that?

“well now you have an invite,” he says, a teasing smile crossing his face. “come to my friend’s party tonight. soobin, do you know him? he has the purple hair?”

his voice is far too sweet and soft compared to the look in his eye, teasing and flirty and reminding you of just how dangerous he is. how he’s capable of having so many different sides, he nearly gives you whiplash. 

he’s the bad boy everyone thinks of him to be, skipping class and getting high and ditching tutoring lessons by smiling too kindly at a mousy little tutor. 

he’s the play boy you see come out when he looks at you a second too long, bringing a blush to your cheeks and stirring something very unfamiliar in the pit of your stomach. 

but then he has a softer side you see sometimes, like when he decided to do these lessons in the first place because you cried to him and made yourself look even more pathetic. 

“i’m happy you decided to do these,” you say to him quietly. 

it was only your second session but you wanted him to know you were supportive of his decision. that, even if your word meant nothing (because, really, who are you to him?), you were proud of him.

it’s not easy for a senior to give up a period or two to learn about things they don’t understand; you probably wouldn’t wanna do it either, if school and learning didn’t come naturally to you. 

but for whatever reason, he agreed to do it.

“oh?” he hums, the trademark smirk on his face causing your cheeks to warm.

“yeah,” you smile softly, nodding your head before looking down at your clasped fingers. “i just... wanted you to know that. i understand why you didn’t want to but i think it’ll be good for-”

“why do you think i didn’t want to?” 

you look at him and for a split second you’re scared that you offended him. you suppose you don’t really know him well enough to make an assumption about him but you just assumed he-

“or, you know what, no,” he says, shaking his head as he pushes his chair closer to yours. 

he leans over the desk the same way he did during your first meeting last month, bringing your faces closer until you can smell cologne and the faint stench of cigarettes. 

“i wanna hear why you think i changed my mind?”

you quirk an eyebrow as you look at him, staring blankly until you realize he just plans on doing the same. 

“well... i guess it’s because you wanted to do good, right?” you ask meekly, unsure why he changed his mind but knowing that you were happy he did. “and maybe you didn’t wanna disappoint the teacher.”

a deep chuckle leaves his mouth that has butterflies erupting in your stomach, watching as he shakes his head and meets your gaze again. 

“is that no it?” you ask bravely, your wide eyes and confused look causing his own stomach to do flips. “what’s so funny?”

but he’s quick to push it down, reach over to ruffle your hair in a way that makes your eyebrows pull together. 

“nothing, angel,” he mumbles, his eyes roaming yours. you see the exact moment there’s s witch behind them, a flirty and darker front he puts up melting into a soft, vulnerable look.

“but thank you for telling me that. because i’m happy i’m doing them, too.”

he has yet to tell you the reason all these weeks later, probably because you wouldn’t dare ask again, but whatever it was, must’ve greatly inspired him.

because over these weeks, he’s really been putting in the work. writing notes and listening to you and asking questions when he’s not making you blush or inviting you out just for you to decline. 

“so...?” he asks, a charismatic smile stretching across his face as he looks at you awaitingly. “what do you say? you wanna come?”

“no, thank you,” you smile politely, feeling bad for downright denying it but the offer feeling far too similiar to cliche movies you’ve watched. where the popular boy invites the nerd to a party and everyone laughs at her, questions why the hell she’s here and pulls some stupid, immature prank on her.

but this isn’t a movie and you don’t think you even have the capacity to show your face there, nor would anyone care that much to target you. 

dismissing him is easier than really considering you hanging out with him outside of this library. seeing him in a different setting and allowing him to see a different side of you.

not you looking at him pleadingly, your eyes moving to the paper in front of him as you ask him to do the next question.

“i’ll do it if you come tomorrow night,” he says, a sigh leaving your mouth as you look at him in frustration.

“yeonjun...”

because if there’s another thing you’ve learned about yeonjun, it’s that he knows you have trouble saying no to him. it could because he sees the naivety in you, seeing something good in him at times and thinking you’ll really be able to help him.

but maybe he hopes you can help him, too. be a person he can lean on and know 100% is gonna be there for him. 

“c’mon, y/n, don’t you wanna have a little fun?”

“i don’t think i’d find it fun,” you mutter honestly, a pout forming on your lips that has him swearing he’s never wanted to kiss someone as much as he wants to kiss you in this moment.

just brush his lips gently against yours, hear the little sounds and see your reactions that he knows will be the best thing he’s ever had. hold your waist and feel your skin against his that while it’s juvenile to him would be so much to you. 

“you don’t know until you try, y/n,” he mutters lowly, looking up at him and seeing his gaze is, as usual, unrelenting. “have you ever been to a party before?”

of course you’ve been to parties before; birthday parties, graduation parties, wedding parties - but you’ve never been to a high school house party. 

and are you about to tell him that? absolutely not. 

“of course i have,” you mumble, a smirk on his lips because he can tell by the way you avert eye contact that you’re lying. “but it’s just... especially with kids from school who i don’t know? i don’t think it’d be fun, yeonjun.”

“but i’d be there?” he whines, something very uncharacteristic of someone who is known to be a bad boy. “isn’t that fun enough?”

you let out a groan as you frown again, tapping the notebook in front of you lightly as you meet his close gaze. 

“your test is next week, yeonjun. can you please focus on that right now?” 

it’s not until the next session that he thinks to use that to his advantage, supposing he can stand one more party without your presence as he smiles over at you. 

“let’s make a deal, angel.”

you know when he calls you that that you’re not about to talk about school or his test, looking over at him with a raised eyebrow. 

“if i get 100 on my test next week, you come to one of soobin’s party.”

you have to suppress a groan at the way he’s not letting up on this damn party, biting down on your lip as you do your best to give him a serious look.

“you should get the 100 because you want to, not because you’re trying to-”

his finger on your lips is the next thing you’re only able to focus on.

not the pounding of your heart or increasing anxiety at the thought of a party or  the fact that there’s more people in the library than usual today. 

you’re only aware of him touching you, a quiet “sh,” leaving his mouth that has your stomach fluttering far more than you care to admit. 

he meets your wide-eyed gaze and smirks at the look on your face. his finger presses down on your bottom lip gently, dragging it slowly and watching as it pops back up. 

there’s an almost pained look in his eyes that you can’t make out, his eyes never moving from your lips before meeting your gaze again. 

“i want a lot of things, y/n,” he says, his voice deep and gruff and making your heart pound even more as he looks to your mouth again. 

you feel your lower stomach swoop at the way he bites down on his bottom lip, his other hand ghosting over to rest of your knee. 

your uniform skirt comes just above your knees, becoming higher when you sit and perfectly exposing your tight covered legs. his large hand rests on your knee like it completely belongs there, like he’s gonna dare anyone to tell him it doesn’t belong there and to take his hands off you.  

“things i probably shouldn’t tell you yet so your pretty little face doesn’t become beat red,” he mumbles in your ear, his warm breath fanning onto your skin and making a shaky, embarrassing sigh leave your mouth.  

but just him realizing that makes your cheeks flush. everything about his closeness and his words and the way he’s just saying these things to you right in the middle of the library. 

the way his hand is slipping inside of your knee, fingers resting on the inside of your thigh that has some dirty, repressed part of you desperate to spread your legs just a little bit more for him.

feel more of his skin on you and heighten the feeling building in your lower half. 

“but i can assure you, none of them are an on my test. but if that means getting you to spend time with me outside of this fucking hellhole, i’m gonna do it.”

just as fast as his hand was on your thigh, it’s gone and cupping your face. holding on to your jaw as he makes you look at him and has a look of softness and amusement but also darkness and arousal. 

it probably has every bit to do with the fact you let out a tiny squeal when he did so, your eyes widening and legs now spreading apart ever so slightly. 

“do you understand now?” 

you should have the power here being his tutor but you don’t. you’re the cat and he’s the mouse, you’re the prey and he’s the predator and you’re not about to do anything to stop it. 

“ye-yes yeonjun,” you say, a groan almost leaving his mouth at you how compliant you are already. 

and it’s that reaction right there that has him skipping the party on friday and spending his weekend doing something he never thought he’d do his senior year - making flashcards and studying his ass off. 

you remember being incredibly proud when, two weeks later, yeonjun came to your session with his graded test paper in hand. 

he looked happy and accomplished and ready to take on the world, a warm feeling blooming in your chest at the look on his face.

“how’d you do?” you smiled up at him, your eyes soft and expression excited.

when he flipped the test over to reveal his 100% test, your first instinct was to raise your hand for a high five. it’s what you always did with the younger kids, praising them and sharing their excitement over a test that they worked incredibly hard on.

so when you did the same thing to him, quickly realizing he’s not one of your 7th grade students but an absurdly attractive man, your cheeks flushed and you stuttered out a “sorry.”

but he only chuckled lightly and high-fived you immediately, lacing your fingers from across the table before you could pull away. the action caught you off guard more than your nerdy high-five, eyes looking down to your conjoined hands before you gave him an incredulous look.

“what are you doing?” you squeak out, fearing that your hand’s about to get clammy and your heart may explode.

“don’t tell me you don’t remember our deal?”

you realized before you even entered soobin’s house that you made a grave mistake. 

music was pounding through the open windows of the house and a few people were littered across the lawn. a drunken couple sloppily making out while another one fought about someone dancing with a stranger all before ten p.m.

you truly intended on never coming, telling yeonjun you seriously could not go through with this and had to flake out on your deal. 

but he’d been so proud of his test. not just because it meant you were coming but because it showed him he was actually capable - or at least, that was the story he told you.

and whether you were silly and naive to believe him was on you since now, you’re walking into a party looking like someone’s holding a weapon to your back. 

“so i’ll see you tonight, right?” 

you were still hesitant even during 7th period this afternoon, looking at yeonjun with a pained expression. 

“yeonjun... i really don’t know if i can do it.”

“why not? i’m gonna be there, just for you.”

you swallow down a bold, sassy remark that he’s gonna be there anyway, probably to remind your fluttering heart not to think too much into his comment. 

but is him being there enough to make you go? or is that scaring you more? seeing him outside of school, around his friends, in an environment where he can be even more bold and daring. 

after all, being in the school library didn’t stop him from creeping his hand up your inner thigh.

“i don’t just wanna follow you around all night and bother you like a lost puppy,” you whine quietly, knowing this was part of the deal but seeing just how impossible it is. 

“how could you think you’d bother me?” he asks, his head cocked to the side just as the bell ringing interrupts you. 

you let out a sigh as you stand to gather your books. you can feel his watchful eyes on you, attempting to ignore it as you silently get ready to go to next period. 

he mistakes you walking away from the table to throw out a stray sheet of paper as you leaving, quickly rising from his feet and pulling you back into him. your body collides with his before he presses you against the table, the library nearly empty as the loud chatter of students can be heard from the hallways. 

“were you gonna leave without answering me?”

his voice is deep and has a certain dominating darkness behind it, your eyes raising to his just in time to see him cock an eyebrow up. 

“i... i was gonna throw this out,” you answer dumbly, raising the crumpled up paper behind your back. 

he hums thoughtfully before taking it from your hand, crumbling it up and tossing it in the nearest garbage can. he misses but makes no attempt to pick it up, keeping you pinned between him and the table with no qualms about it. 

“you missed,” you point out obviously. 

a smirk crosses his lips as he lets out a hum, bringing his hand up to smooth out a piece of your hair. 

“i’m gonna ask again,” he mumbles lowly in your ear, his large body and deep voice quickly making your breaths quicken. 

“how could you think you’d bother me when i spent my entire weekend studying for that test?” he asks, his hands snaking down your body before gently resting onto your hips. 

him pulling you closer causes another shaky sigh to leave you, your low, warning mumble of his name only making him smirk. he shouldn’t like this so much, how you sound so sweet and flustered and are allowing him have you like this. 

“that was all for you, angel. not for me or the teacher or my parents or anyone else. just you. because i wanna hang out with you.”

you swallow the nervous lump in your throat as you raise your eyes to meet his, the playfulness that was in them turning the slightest bit dark. something in them making you lick over your lips as you try to calm your racing heart.

“you won’t even know when i’m there. how am i gonna find you?”

it’s the worst excuse you could have ever thought of but you’re not surprised since yeonjun was pressed against your body and breathing down your neck the way he was. 

he chuckled lowly like he also knew it was the worst excuse you could’ve thought of, taking your phone from the table. he slides it open and looks to you, his eyebrow raised when you just continue to stare at him blankly. 

then you remember, like every other teenager in the world, you have a lock on your phone.

“0319.”

he smirks at how easily you give it up, tapping a few buttons on the screen before handing it back to you.

“i put my number in there. text me when you’re there, 

so even with a pit in your stomach and anxiety coursing through your veins, you go to his new contact name and type out “i’m here.”

you’re faintly aware of the fighting couple’s voices growing louder, his deep groans mixed with her higher pitched whines causing you to look over. 

“i saw you touch her waist!” the girl yelps, her hands on her hips with a very obvious look of distaste. “so obviously you didn’t mind! maybe you should dance with her the rest of the night!”

“maybe i will, since you’re so god damn annoying,” he yells back, your lips falling into a frown. 

the girl meets your gaze and it’s then you recognize her as a girl in your grade. she’s from the popular group but is one of the nicer ones, always smiling politely at other students and listening to teachers during their lessons. 

she almost looks embarrassed to be caught in this scenario, a broken smile crossing her face before her boyfriend notices your gaze; you don’t recognize him, so you think he must be in yeonjun’s grade. 

“what the fuck are you looking at?”

your cheeks flush as you immediately snap your head away, quickly becoming scared and uncomfortable. you can hear her chastising him but just want to be away as soon as possible, the prospect of this drunk man cursing at you somehow worse than a house full of strangers.

yeonjun hasn’t answered your text but you still take a deep breath as you walk toward the front door, immediately hit with the scent of alcohol, b.o. and weed. there’s loud music blaring from the speakers and making the house vibrate, bodies littered throughout the house as they all talk loudly and dance.

your eyes scan the room for his pink hair, stomach sinking when you see no sign of him. 

is he even here yet? he told you he was coming at nine but could he be running late? or did he forget entirely, ignore your text as a joke and now you have to-

“hey. how do i know you?” 

the first thing you see is purple hair and you’re immediately thrown back into the crowded cafeteria all those months ago. when you so boldly went up to yeonjun with tears in your eyes and he was quick to pull you away. 

you remember the boy in front of you asking who you were, the same curiosity in his eyes now as you stand in his house looking extremely uncomfortable and out of place. 

“i... my name’s y/n,” you begin quietly, the boy barely able to hear you over the music and loud chatter. “i had to talk to yeonjun during lunch once so i went up to your table and-”

“well shit, so you’re her.”

there’s a smirk on his face and gleam in his eye, like he knows something you don’t. you cock your head to the side in confusion, watching as his smirk widens and he nods his head approvingly. 

“his tutor, right? he told me about you.”

“oh... yeah,” you say quietly, because yeah, that would make sense - his friends probably wonder where he goes during his free period now; there’s a few beats of awkward silence before he speaks up again.

“so what are you doing here?”

your cheeks flush and you wish you could blame the stuffiness of his house, looking to him as you stutter out that yeonjun invited you. 

“did he now,” he hums, his eyes roaming your face and stopping on your cheeks. he doesn’t know what exactly yeonjun wants from a girl like you but he has to be honest in saying he sees the appeal. 

“follow me then, sweetheart. you want a drink?”

you shake your head before following behind him, making eye contact with one too many intimidating boys and girls before landing on your feet. everyone’s in pretty heeled boots and crop tops, dancing and singing and grinding like they don’t have any cares in the world. 

like they’re not terrified and dreading being here, even with the knowledge that the attractive boy they may or may not have developed a crush on is lingering  around.

“oh, yeonjunnie,” you hear soonbin whine sarcastically, your eyes shooting up just in time to see his familiar black attire. his pink hair is poking out of his black beanie, the chain around his neck hanging low as he turns to look at his friend. 

“i found someone for you,” the boy says before yeonjun can respond, bringing you around to the front. 

you’re in the middle of both boys who tower over you and you’re not sure if you’ve ever felt more threatened; especially because when yeonjun looks at you, you’d think he didn’t know your name. 

because he doesn’t give you a hi or a smile or even a flicker of recognition in his gaze.

he looks at you and simply says, “well, shit, i didn’t think you’d actually come,” with such a handsomely conniving smirk, you’re not sure what to think in that moment. 

because it seems as if all your silly, irrational fears are coming true in this moment. very much like the movies you’ve seen and scenarios you’ve pictured where you’re humiliated at a party or by the popular boy. 

but his smile and his words seemed so genuine. he’s seemed so genuine getting to know you these past few months, how could he have faked it so well? 

the way your face drops and cheeks warm cause his heart to break a little, still all too aware of the questioning eyes and lingering looks thrown your way. 

“didn’t you invite her?” soobin questions, looking between you and him and noting how embarrassed you look.

“i did,” is all yeonjun responds. no rhyme or reason or answer as to why he did. just that he did. so it could very well be a joke. 

“well then, welcome, y/n,” soobin responds, reaching his hand out to you. “i’m soobin, in case we weren’t formally introduced.”

you give him a tight smile, yeonjun’s piercing gaze on yours as you take soobin’s large hand in yours. 

“nice to meet you.”

your voice is soft and shaky and brings more heat to your cheeks, wanting to die when soobin rips up one of his friends for you to sit on the couch.

“i don’t mind standing,” you insist, shaking your head and offering a small smile to the other boy.

“no, no, pretty girls shouldn’t stand,” soobin says with a smirk, catching the way yeonjun’s eyes roll and jaw clenches; it all goes unnoticed to you, though, too busy sitting down and looking at your hands nervously folded into one another.

“so y/n,” soobin says, sitting down across from you and leaning forward the same way yeonjun does during his tutoring sessions. “what’s it like to tutor this idiot?”

his words are laced with affection, as are his actions as he ruffles yeonjun’s beanie playfully, but they still make you frown. still make you wanna defend him in front of others and ensure that he’s not an idiot. 

“he’s great actually,” you say softly, lips pulled up in a soft smile. “very smart and learns fast. definitely not an idiot.”

you look to the boy to see him staring blankly at you, heart sinking in your chest; you’re becoming increasingly uncomfortable in this environment and a big part of it as to do with his attitude. 

you weren’t expecting him to be overly excited, kiss your feet upon seeing you arrive or proclaim an irrational excitement. but it kind of seems as if, right now, he could care less that you’re here.

“ahh, that’s cool then,” soobin smiles. “you’re a year younger than us, right?” 

you can only hum a small “mhm,” yeonjun’s gaze burning into your face causing you to look at him. 

it’s the same soft, wide-eyed look you give him during your sessions but right now, it’s making him feel far too unsettled. like people seeing him with you are gonna show them a different side to him he has yet to acknowledge. 

“why’d you decide to come?” he asks, not being able to stop the words; he already knows the answer, he basically begged you too. 

and because you’ve been nothing but sweet and soft to him, he’s not surprised when you don’t throw it in his face that he’s the one who enforced this. that he studied for nights to pass that test so you’d feel inclined to come. 

“i thought it’d be fun,” you say sweetly, i thought we’d be able to have fun outside of school like you claimed to have wanted. “i don’t really come to parties a lot.”

“i can’t imagine why, you seem really sweet and funny,” soobin says, a flirty smile on his face that makes a blush creep up on your cheeks; he’s so bold and confident, you don’t know both of them do it. “you should come to more.”

seeing that shade of pink on your cheeks from someone else angers yeonjun more than he cares to admit, throwing his friend a dirty look before growling at him to shut up. 

“why? she’s sweet, isn’t she? maybe i need to be tutored too,” soobin says, throwing a smile your way as he plops down in the spot next to you. “what periods are you free? maybe we can go out for lunch and have a session.”

“i... i’m not allowed to leave for lunch.”

that’s a school rule - only seniors are allowed to leave for lunch. but with the way soobin laughs and yeonjun hold back a smirk, the other people littered around also letting out soft chuckles, it appears that’s something not many people follow. 

“you can with me,” soobin assures, patting your knee softly as he sends another charming smile your way. “i’ll make sure you don’t get in trouble.”

you smile in an effort to downplay your embarrassment and discomfort, an annoyed sigh leaving yeonjun as he rises from his seat. he looks even more big and broad surrounded by these people for some reason, in his element where he fits in like a glove.

it’s even more evident that you don’t fit in here - at least in the library, that’s a place you belong. the quiet, the smell of books, the solidarity, a keen sense of-

“i’m getting another drink.”

yeonjun’s words are short and deep as he quickly gets up, hauling ass to the kitchen before anyone can even respond to him. his friend must see the look on your face too, a small pout on your lips that has the boy frowning next to you.

“don’t worry about him, he’s grouchy tonight,” soonbin says reassuringly, wrapping his arm around you affectionately. “some girl stood him up.”

the first thing you feel is a blow to your chest, an unfamiliar pain right in the center as you register soobin’s words; he begged you to come tonight but was waiting for another girl.

probably one of the many college girls, who are prettier and funnier and more charismatic than you.

so, really, you can’t be surprised. you were silly to think he liked you in the way you thought, in the way you’ve come to discover you like him because he makes you smile and laugh and feel warm inside.

but even so, you’re hurt.

you’re hurt and embarrassed and feel humiliated even though no one knows the real reason you came here and stepped way out of your comfort zone. thank god for that, you think, because it’d be even more horrible if people knew you came for yeonjun, all while he was waiting for someone else.

“oh,” you manage to squeak out, a soft look on your face despite the pain and embarrassment inside of you. “that’s too bad.”

“yeah,” soobin says, looking at you with sympathetic eyes you know you can’t trust. “he’ll be good, though.”

you bet he will, you think, because that’s just who choi yeonjun is. he doesn’t care who he strings along or makes believe is special - he’s gonna do what he wants when he wants it with no regard for how it effects other.

even a sweet little meek tutor he was able to get under his thumb the first day he met her.

when yeonjun returns, he can tell immediately that something is wrong with you. your hands are clasped together and you’re biting the inside of your cheek, fiddling nervously as you listen in on the conversation around you.

you meet his gaze and he’s quick to look away, one because he got caught and two because he doesn’t know if he can handle the look in your eye right now.

you’re always almost about to make him crack, break down into being someone worthy of you, and he doesn’t wanna do that tonight. doesn’t wanna show everyone here that, if he wants to, he can be a worthy person.

you’re a second away from breaking before soobin asks if you wanna dance, a tight smile on your face as you shake your head.

“i... i’m actually gonna go outside for a sec,” you say, knowing full well you’re gonna book it to your car and never return. “it’s hot in here. i need some air.”

“there’s plenty of air in here, angel,” soobin remarks, your eyes widening at the term.

it sounds different coming from his mouth, not as deep and melodic and it doesn’t let off a bunch of butterflies in your stomach. you’re too busy giggling softly as you shake your head that you don’t hear the deep, low noise of distaste leave yeonjun’s mouth.

you only see him grab soobin’s arm when he tries to get up to follow you, a lowly growled “let her go,” that makes your eyebrows pull together; you don’t know if he’s trying to hurt your feelings on purpose but he’s certainly doing it a lot tonight.

it feels like you can finally take a deep breath when you get outside, no one around except the chilly air and starry sky. it makes you feel a bit better, sinking down on the stairs and humming contently when your hands meet the cold concrete.

you passed by the dancing people and laughing, smiley couples inside and felt silly for coming here. silly for thinking yeonjun wanted you in his life without him getting something out of it.

what would he want from you anyway? what could you possibly give him when he’s already had so much better?

tears prick your eyes and you bury your face in your hands, taking deep calming breaths so the harsh winter air doesn’t feel like it’s burning you.

you avoided boys and feelings like this for so long and with good reason; you’re too sensitive and naive and always try to see the good in people.

you’ll put your feelings aside in order to spare someone else - you saw it in the beginning, pushing down your qualms about lying to the teacher to further appease a boy you found cute.

and when you put it like that, it sounds really fucking stupid. it sounds like, maybe, you’re just-

“didn’t i tell you you’re too pretty to cry over stupid things?”

your first instinct is to turn around when you hear his voice, his tall, dark figure looming behind you. 

you should probably smile shyly or say that you’re not crying but you can only stay silent, turning back around to avoid his intense gaze and your own humiliation. 

the same way he should probably go inside and carry on with his night the way he usually would. drinking and flirting and dancing before he probably brought someone home or into the bathroom. 

when he moves behind you, that’s what you think he’s about to do. 

but then he’s walking around your sitting frame and bending down to you, looking up at you from his crouched position. his hand reaches out to touch your face, forcing it up so you can only stare at him with teary eyes and flushed cheeks.

there’s a frown on his face as he runs his thumb across your cold cheek, his gentle touch a shocking contrast to his harsher appearance. 

“what happened?”

what happened? you think, not used to feeling so snarky and hurt. what happened was that he got your hopes up, was nice to you and invited you and kept making you feel special, just for them to come crashing down.

but then the more you think about it, the silence between you getting longer and longer, the guiltier you feel - because your feelings aren’t his fault.

you taking his looks and kindness and lingering touches for something deeper was a mistake. you know the kind of boy he is and have still been foolish enough to fall for him.

“nothing,” you grumble, a wet, humorless laugh leaving you as you shake your head. “i’m just being silly.”

but you can’t look up from your feet, your eyes roaming the cracks in the concrete, and that’s how he knows you’re lying; that, and because he knows he was being a fucking dick. 

but seeing you in this environment was weird for him. seeing people look at you and look at him, specifically soobin who got it out of him that he might like you, was unfamiliar for him.

the same way this was unfamiliar for you - which is why he wants you to talk to him. 

“what happened, y/n?” he asks, voice a tad bit harsher and deeper as he cranes his neck down. he hears your harsh, nervous intake of breath and resists the urge to reach out and touch you. 

you need to answer him before he can touch you. 

but you never do. not after ten seconds and not after a minute, prompting him to let out a sigh and pop his neck to the side. your face pulls into a grimace at the crack that sounds through the air. 

his cold hand touching your face causes you to jump, your eyes meeting and a lump forming in your throat; his eyes fool you too much and that’s exactly the problem here.

“talk to me, angel, c’mon.”

your eyes start to burn when a harsh wind passes, tears stinging your eyes and coldness rushing over your face. why does he have to keep calling you that? why does his voice have to sound so sincere and why does he have to look at you the way he is right now?

like he cares so much and hopes those tears aren’t because you’re sad.

“there’s nothing to talk about, yeonjun,” you blurt out, anger and humiliation seep into your tone before you can stop it. you let out a sigh as you try to get it together, taking a few calming breaths before shaking your head. 

“just go back inside, okay? i’m going home. t-thank you for inviting me but i-”

“i don’t want you to go.”

he blurts the words so loud and fast, it even sounds a little awkward to your ears. but he sounds and looks almost desperate, your eyebrows pulling together and heart sinking as you take a deep breath.

because you know you can’t stop the next words from tumbling out of your mouth.

“well, it doesn’t seem like you want me here.”

your words are soft and quiet but they still physically pain his chest, his eyes roaming your face as he brings them to your cold cheeks. he wipes under your eye when wetness forms, the cold biting wind rushing around you both. 

“i want you,” he reassures quietly, his voice just as low and gravely as he speaks hushly to you; he thinks it’s the most honest and true thing he’s ever said to someone. “i want you more than you know.”

“then why are you acting like that?” you question sweetly, the pout on your lips nearly making him groan and cover them with his. “you were being... mean. i felt like... you didn’t want me here at all. or didn’t want people to know you invited me.”

your words break his heart but he also knows they’re true, his fingers caressing your face gently. he notices then how freezing and red it is, looking you over and rising from his feet.

you look disappointed that he’s gonna leave, your face falling and eyebrows furrowing before he reaches his hand down to you. 

“let’s talk in my car,” he clarifies, nodding his head toward his vehicle. “it’s freezing out here.”

you bite down on your lip, contemplating it for a few seconds before another harsh gust of wind passes. you let out a sigh as you take his hand, grateful to enter his car the moment you sit down. 

he turns it on and the engine roars to life, his fingers reaching out to turn on your heated seat. 

the next few moments only consist of the car’s engine warming up as you wait for the heat to kick on, you and yeonjun stealing glances back and forth at each other; you both miss the others gaze by a few seconds and if anyone were to be watching, it’d be obvious you both were nervous right now. 

dancing along the line you’re both nervous to cross for entirely different reasons - you because you somehow don’t think he reciprocates those feelings and him because he knows you deserve more. 

but in this moment, he decides he has to be selfish. watching you with a flush in your cheeks and your lip drawn into your mouth.

“i like you, y/n. that’s why i wanted you here,” his voice says, breaking the silence in a way that almost seems more terrifying. “but that’s also why i didn’t... want people knowing.”

your eyebrows pull together and immediately your mind goes to him being embarrassed. embarrassed that you’re younger and quiet and that no one really knows who the hell you are.

he’s infamous and cool and a senior, obviously he should be with someone similiar. like a popular girl in his grade or a college girl or maybe even a the girl who stood him up.

“not because of you, angel, but because of...”

“you?” you interrupt, a snark in your tone neither of you except; but you’ve heard this line one too many times, not expecting to ever ever hear it real life, let alone toward you. 

“it’s not you, it’s me?” you ask, a gentle, faux smile on your face as you shake your head at him. “is that what you’re about to say?”

he clenches his jaw so he doesn’t smirk, resisting the urge to laugh as he looks you over carefully. it’s obvious your smile’s fake because it doesn’t meet your eyes, the teary glint in them every bit sad as they are frustrated. 

but of course, you’re too sweet to treat him as he deserves. 

his hand reaches out to grab your chin, his thumb and pointer finger on either side as he forces your gaze to his. his smirk comes through when he hears your sharp intake of breath, tongue peeking out to lick at his lips. 

“if you let me talk, angel, you’d know what i was about to say,” he hums quietly, his breath fanning into your face at his closeness. it smells of mint and beer, it should probably be gross but surprisingly isn’t.

his words successfully stir you into silence, partially from fear and partially because the look in his eye has caused you to grow warm all over; and once he sees that, he begins to speak again.

“i didn’t want people knowing because i didn’t want anyone fucking with you, y/n. because if they did, i’d have to ruin them and then everyone would see it.”

“see what?” you ask quietly, the air between you thick and buzzing as you hold his gaze. 

hold it so adamantly and intensely, you’re barely able to register him leaning closer. inch by inch by inch, until his lips are pressed against yours and you’re kissing choi yeonjun in the front seat of his car. 

you’re stiff and awkward and don’t really know what to do but it’s fine because he laces his fingers in your hair and pulls you closer. parts your lips with his tongue which causes you to kiss him back with a slow, unsure pace.

but it only causes him to smile, retracting his tongue and keeping it sweet before he pulls back and rests his head on your forehead. 

“why i decided to spend my free period during senior year getting fucking tutored, angel,” he chuckles lowly, his hand running through your hair gently. 

the soft look in his eye causes you to swallow nervously, words caught in your throat as you stare at him wide-eyed.

“i... i thought you... you said it was...” you let out a shaky breath as you try to get your thoughts together, completely unable to remember your conversation from weeks ago. when he cryptically asked you your thoughts about just why he agreed to stop lying to the teacher and do the sessions; 

so instead, your cheeks warm and you’re hit with the reminder that you just had your first kiss with him. and that you were probably absolutely terrible at it. 

“that was my first kiss. i... i’m sorry if it was bad.”

a small smile crosses yeonjun’s face as he shakes his head at you, thumb dragging down your cheek gently to feel the warm, smooth skin of your cheek. 

“it was perfect, angel, you’re perfect.” he mumbles, your eyes widening and heart stuttering as a ball forms in your throat. “so perfect that i thought you stood me up and weren’t coming. so let’s go on date. a real date, this time.”

in the beginning of the school year, you would’ve never imagined your study sessions with yeonjun would be turning into dinner dates; but as you sit in your room and get ready, your heart pounding and palms sweaty, that’s exactly what’s happened. 

it’s the fourth date you guys are going on and you can officially say that you really, really have feelings for yeonjun. you’re still shy and nervous around him but it’s only because he’s more comfortable with you too.

he takes your hand with ease and laces your fingers together that he was meant to do that.

he’ll shamelessly peck a kiss to your lips and deepen it at any given time, your cheeks burning and embarrassed voice telling him to stop when he did it in the middle of the bowling alley last week. 

he’ll watch you and smile at you and just touch you with the softest of intentions, you almost can’t believe this is the bad boy everyone claims is so mean and heartless. 

you say almost because you still don’t do it in school. it’s still a somewhat... secret fondness you have for one another. he’ll play with your fingers under the table during sessions and wink at you in the hallway but that’s about it. 

he’d probably never kiss you in the hallway or cafeteria but you also wouldn’t want that. it would draw way too much attention and probably leave your face with a permanent, embarrassing flush. 

“are you going out?” you hear your mom ask, her head peeking in before a smile brightens her face. “aw, you look beautiful, y/n. yeonjun must be coming soon.”

the topic of dating had been undeniably embarrassing with your parents, mostly because they couldn’t believe you were showing an interest. but they welcomed yeonjun with open arms, insisting to meet him at the front door to ensure he was a nice boy.

and oh had he really showed you just how charming he could be. 

“mom,” you whine in embarrassment, her laugh echoing in your room as he throws her arms up defensively. 

“you guys be careful. it’s supposed to rain soon.”

you nod your head as you finish getting ready, smoothing over your hair once more before your phone vibrates against your desk. he texted you that he was on his way with a smiley face and heart, sending one back before looking at yourself in the mirror. 

you don’t know what the hell he sees you or why he likes you but you know if you dwell on it, you’ll talk yourself out of everything. convince yourself that this is all a joke and he’s gonna turn around and say he pities you. 

even though, when you brought this up to him, he was quick to calm those worries. 

“c-can i ask you something, yeonjun?”

you were walking home from the movies with your hands intertwined.

the cold, harsh winter had blossomed into spring, the night air growing less frigid; there was a still a bit of a chill but it was nothing a jacket and yeonjun’s warm body couldn’t fix.

“of course, angel,” he mumbles lowly, a small smile on his face as you stop in your tracks. he’s quick to follow, eyebrow raising and body turning so he can look down at you. 

he cocks his head to the side when you don’t speak for a few seconds, his lips falling into a pout as his hand tightens in yours.

“you okay?” he asks quietly, thumb tracing small circles into your skin. 

you lick over your lips nervously, feeling silly for the need to ask this question but it’s one you can’t help. it wracks your mind over and over again and it feels like you’re about to-

“why do you like me?” you blurt out, unaware you even said the words until you notice yeonjun’s face morph into one of surprise. 

his mouth opens and closes for a moment, brows pulled together as he tries to make sense of your words.

“i mean, what’s not to like?” he asks softly, taking you by the hips and pulling you closer to him. 

you’re in the middle of the sidewalk but there’s no one around, the sky dark and streets desolate as you both meet each others gazes - yours full of doubt and his full of confusion. 

“i... i don’t know,” you mumble sheepishly, looking down at your intertwined hands. “i just... it doesn’t really make sense.”

“why? because i’m older? because you’re smart and i’m not?” he teases, your panicked eyes immediately meeting his.

“no! more like the exact opposite,” you clarify as you shake your head. “because you’re popular and attractive and charming and i’m just.... not.”

his eyes roam your face and his heart sinks when he sees the doubt and nerves continue to grow. how you really feel this way about yourself and are pondering the idea that someone like him would want someone like you, when really, it should be the opposite. 

“y/n, i’m lucky that you’re settling for me,” the pink-haired boy laughs out, squeezing your hips reassuringly. “you’re good and sweet and so fucking beautiful. i wanted you the second i saw you, you know, but knew i shouldn’t.”

your eyes widen at his words, shock behind them that has a laugh bubbling from his chest. 

“in lunch. i noticed you the first day and thought you were an angel,” he says, the nickname he always calls you particularly getting the butterflies going tonight. 

“i could tell that you were good. you just have this.. aura, y/n, and i knew that i would taint it. i knew you deserved someone way better. because i’m not good like you.”

"yes you are,” you respond immediately, a frown appearing on your face as you shake your head. “you pretend not to be, but you are, yeonjun. i can see it.”

“you can see it because i wanna be good around you, baby. i wanna be someone good for you.”

tears prick your eyes as a lump forms in your throat, overwhelmed and unsure of how to respond to that. he smiles softly as he takes in your face, leaning forward to press his lips against your forehead. 

he inhales your sweet, vanilla smell while you take in his cologne and faint scent of cigarettes, swallowing down the lump and praying you don’t burst into tears on the spot. 

“don’t doubt yourself, angel,” yeonjun mumbles against your head, puling you closer until your flush against his warm, broad body. “i’m the one who got lucky here.” 

even though it meant wasting away in the fucking library. 

“the library isn’t that bad, yeonjun,” you whine ten minutes later in his car, heat blasting and music low as he drives to the restaurant. one hand’s on the steering wheel while the other’s laced with yours, your body turned in his black leather seat to look over and chastise him. 

he confessed to you that your sessions were the first time he’d ever stepped foot in that library; he hadn’t even been positive that school had a library until he walked through the door that day. 

“it smells like dust and the librarian’s a bitch.”

“she is not!” you squeal, smacking his arm lightly as you throw him a chastising look. “she’s just a little... misunderstood. people don’t respect her space.”

even you can admit sometimes she does go a little overboard; you saw her once lecture a younger student for a half hour because they mistakenly put a book on the wrong shelf. 

“you’re too nice, baby. maybe even a little biased, since you’re the only one she seems to tolerate.”

“probably because i’m there every day,” you tease lightly, your eyes widening playfully before a loud crack of thunder causes you to jump in your seat.

your mom hadn’t been kidding when she said there was gonna be a storm tonight. you’d ran to yeonjun’s car shielding the top of your head, rain pelting down and wind howling as your mom’s “be careful!” got drowned out.

and right now, it only seemed to be getting worse. 

“you scared of thunder?” 

you hear the smirk in yeonjun’s voice and resist the urge to stick your tongue out, not about to admit that, yes, you’re nearly an adult but still terrified of rain and thunder. 

“no, of-of course not,” you grumble, snatching your hand away from his. “it just surprised me.”

yeonjun looks over at you and sees the nervousness all your face, not commenting as he silently snatches your hand back. he intertwines your fingers as he raises your hand to his mouth, pressing his lips against it while he drives through the rain.

it’s getting considerably heavier by every second, his foot pressing off the gas every time he drives past a puddle. 

“i used to be scared of the rain, you know.” 

you look over at him and see him looking peacefully at the road, pink strands of hair hanging in his face. 

“oh, yeah? when you were like five?”

“twelve,” he corrects with a smile, doing his best to distract you from the chaos outside. “i used to wake up crying, sometimes. i know that’s hard to believe now. because i’m so cool and what not.”

“oh please,” you giggle out, the sweet sound filling the car also distracting him from the pounding of rain and crackling of thunder; he’s outgrown his fear of storms but even he can admit this one is a little bit scary right now. 

“what, you don’t think? i’ll have you know-”

the skidding of his tires mixed with your frightened screams is the next thing he hears, a strangled “yeonjun!” in the background as he attempts to take control of his car.

there’s the boom of thunder and lightning and loud blares of horns before everything goes still, his body acting on auto pilot as he safely pulls off on the side of the highway.

his first concern isn’t damage to his car or the heightening storm outside - it’s you in his passenger seat, eyes closed tight and tears on your face. 

“are you okay?” yeonjun’s voice frantically asks, barely able to feel the sensation of his his warm hands on your face. your heart’s pounding and your hands are shaking and for a moment, you thought you were about to die. 

your eyes pop open to meet his and the concern in them only makes your eyes water more, bottom lip trembling as you nod your head. 

but even though you’re nodding he sees you’re not. he sees you trying to catch your breath and your eyes looking back and forth nervously outside.

“hey, hey, angel. it’s okay. i’m here,” he hums lowly, his thumbs running over your face soothingly. “i’m here and you’re okay.”

you attempt to catch and slow your breaths as your eyes never leave his, his only leaving you to quickly assess you for injuries.

“i know that was scary. i’m sorry. i should’ve been more careful.”

“it wasn’t your fault,” you squeak out, swallowing the knot in your throat as you shake your head. your eyes roam his and you pout when there’s guilt and sorrow in his eyes, your own hand snaking down to hold his hand. 

“are you okay?”

his eyes soften as he cups your face and brings you to closer to him, a quiet “yes, baby,” leaving his mouth before he places his lips on your forehead.

you breathe in his scent and he breathes in yours, not allowing himself to pull away until he feels you relax under him.

“i’m gonna drive us to my house, okay?” he says, his eyes back on you looking cautious. “we can order food. i just don’t want us driving in this if it’s gonna get worse.”

you nod your head before reaching down to grasp one of his hands tightly, his small smile meeting you before he carefully pulls back onto the highway. 

the storm gets substantially worse as he makes his way to his house, hand grasping yours tightly as he drives slow and steady. 

he’s flooded with relief when he finally pulls in his driveway, running around the passenger side door to help you out. his hand doesn’t leave the small of your back until you’re in his room, a big space with white walls and black furniture that doesn’t surprise you in the slightest.

contrary to most teenage boy’s rooms, his smells really good. like a mix of his cologne, laundry detergent and a distinct smell you’ve just deemed as his natural scent.

it’s comforting and makes you feel at ease, licking over your lips nervously as you realize this is the first time you’ve been in a boy’s room.

“you want anything to drink?”

“i...i’m good,” you say, sitting on his bed as you look around.

there’s no decor on the walls except for a large flat screen tv across from his bed and above his dresser, a pile of clothes off to the side. 

“sorry, i didn’t expect to have anyone over so it’s a little messy.”

you look over at him sitting beside you, a sheepish smile on his face. you think it’s the first time he’s ever sounded somewhat... nervous and out of his comfort zone. 

maybe because he knows you’ve never been in this situation before. 

“it’s okay, i like your room,” you smile, spreading your fingers out across his soft, dark comforter. “it’s very fitting.”

“oh yeah?” he smirks, inching closer to you and making your heart speed up. “and why’s that?”

there’s that dark playfulness you’re so used to seeing swarming behind his eyes, just as teasing as it is intense that makes you hold back a squeak. he quirks his eyebrow as he moves closer, pink tongue peeking out to roll over his lips.

you can’t help when your eyes fall to them, missing the feel of them on yours. 

you two haven’t gone past making out, a clash of tongues and teeth that have you quietly moaning into his mouth. but when your body acts on its own accord, pushing yourself closer to him or grasping at the bottom of his shirt, he always stops you.

“what are you doin’ baby?”

you were in his car after a tutoring session, the parking lot of the school completely deserted. your cheeks flush and you immediately draw your hands back, lowering your head slightly as embarrassment took over. 

“i...i thought that was...don’t you wanna...”

because clothes come off, that’s how it starts - you know that much.

and you can feel how much he wants to go further, the hardness under you that scared you at first now the thing begging you to go further.

you feel wanted and desired and even though you’re scared, you want to go further.

“we don’t have to do anything, baby. this is fine,” he says softly, his hand reaching up to cup your cheek. 

“but i want to,” you mumble, not even sure if he can hear your words because of how quiet you are. 

you know he must though because he draws his fingers under your chin to lift your face, eyes heavy of fondness and arousal making your stomach flutter more. 

your first instinct is to assume he doesn’t want you - why else would he stop you? but you can see in his eyes that he does...right? because it really does look like that.

what other reason would he have to stop you though? maybe he just doesn’t-

“whatever you’re thinking is probably wrong,” yeonjun mutters, tightening his hold on you and bringing you closer to him. “i don’t wanna go further with you while we’re in the car, angel. you deserve more than that.”

“hm?” you hear him hum, ripping you from your memories. 

you look from his lips to his eyes watching you with lust, the beginnings of your nonsense words cut off when he kisses you. 

your heart flutters and stomach swoops immediately, kissing back with an embarrassing amount of fervor. he smirks against your lips as he pulls you on his lap, your arms circling around his shoulders.

his tongue traces your bottom lip before you feel it in your mouth, daringly meeting his back in a way you’d never done before. it causes him to bring his hands to your hips, squeezing and massaging them with his large hands. 

“look at you,” he mutters almost condescendingly, falling back onto his bed and causing you to squeal. you’re holding yourself above him and his eyebrow is quirked, red lips puffy and pink hair messy causing your heart to flutter mercilessly.

“if i didn’t know any better, baby, i’d think you’re real eager tonight.”

you bite down on your lip as you adjust yourself on him, your hips straddling his and brushing over him. your building heat is right under him and it takes everything in you not to moan at just the thought, his hands strong and firm.

and just as you’re about to answer, tell him that, yes, even though you’re not familiar with.... any of this, you’re eager and ready, your stomach growls and ruins the moment.

it causes a smile to light up his face, a deep chuckle leaving him before he flips you over. he’s hovering above you now, no parts of your bodies touching except for his hand a few inches away from your head. 

“or you’re hunger, my mistake, angel,” he says with a smirk, pressing a peck to your nose sweetly. “what do you want?”

you spend the next hour laying in his bed waiting for the pizza, the storm just as wild outside as it was when you were in the car. you bit down on a squeal threatening to leave your mouth every time there was a terrifying boom, your body shimming closer to yeonjun’s.

he smiled against your head and welcomed your body closer, bringing your head to his chest.

“you’re cute,” you hear him mumble, the swooping in your stomach causing you to feel warm.

you look up at him and smile shyly, tucking your head closer into his chest. you have to hide your growing smile when you feel his lips brush your head, deep content hums leaving his chest.

the doorbell ringing rips you two apart, his mumbled “i’ll be right back,’ causing you to sit up. you brush your fingers through your hair as you sit up, looking around his dark room and feeling something brewing in your stomach.

you feel every bit as nervous as you do excited and eager in his room with him right now. 

it’s still scary because you’re new to this. because you’ve never done anything like this before and you know you don’t know what you’re doing. 

but a part of you wants to kiss him on his bed. go further than he’s allowed you to because if he only didn’t want to be with you in the car, this should solve that problem, right?

you’ve never felt as desired and warm as you have with him these past months. no one’s ever looked at you the way he does or have made you feel the way he does. 

you’re usually too scared or uneasy to talk to people or form a connection; but from the moment you met him, you were able to do that. a part of you just felt inclined to help him, be a person that he knows would be there for him even if it meant in the form of helping him study or motivate him.

you never would’ve expected for him to reciprocate your feelings. nor would you have expected to be in this current situation, want and need bubbling in your stomach at the thought of yeonjun doing-

“pizza’s here,” yeonjun says, popping his head through the door holding a box of pizza. 

you smile upon seeing it, your stomach growling at the smell; if he hears it, he doesn’t say anything. just walks over and places the box on his bed, offering you a slice that you take immediately.

“thank you,” you squeak, bringing the food to your mouth.

he watches you for a few seconds, suddenly all too aware of him looking at you. you raise an eyebrow as you chew, a shy look coming over your face that causes him to smile. 

“what?”

“nothing,” he says, shaking his head as he takes out his own slice. “my mom called me and said they can’t come home tonight because of the storm.”

you take the time to chew your food as you take in his words, the fluttering in your stomach a mix of nerves and excitement. 

“oh.”

“yeah...” he hums, his eyes roaming your face; he doesn’t want his next suggestion to make you uncomfortable but he also thinks it would be best. for both of you. 

“and i don’t know if i should drive you home, angel. it’s supposed to get really bad. do you... wanna stay over?”

there’s a lump in your throat for all the reasons there shouldn’t be. 

not because this is your first time sleeping over a boy’s house or the fact that his parents aren’t home. or because you’re gonna have to call your mom and say you’re sleeping over a friend’s house.

or even because you don’t know what to expect tonight.

it’s only there because you know, in a new form of acting on your deeper desires and not suppressing yourself to just being some innocent girl, you wanna get railed.

“i... i guess i can do that,” you say, some nervousness still behind your voice because when it comes down to it, you’re unfamiliar with this situation. 

“well yeah, but do you want to, baby?” he asks with a small smirk, his hand reaching up to toy with your hair. 

his long fingers run through the strands before tucking them behind your ear, his hand slinking down to rest on your neck.

“if you don’t feel comfortable, i’ll take you home later,” he says, thumb running across your skin slowly. breath catches in your throat when he leans closer to you, his lingering scent and broadness causing you to bite down on your lip.

“i just thought it’d be nice to lay with you tonight. or wake up with you.”

“or let us go further since we’re not in the car.” 

you don’t know who’s more shocked by your words but you know you’re definitely more embarrassed, a rampant blush crossing your cheeks as you attempt to hide in his shoulder.

he’s quick to pull you away with a small “tsk,” the smirk on his lips quickly widening despite the soft look in his eyes. 

you bite back the noise threatening to leave your mouth when he wraps his hand around you hair, the slightest of stings ripping through your scalp when he pulls you forward.

“go further?” he asks lowly, his eyes peering down at you only making you feel more warm and flustered. 

words are caught in your mouth and you can’t find it in you to say anything. not only because you’re too embarrassed but you don’t even know what to say.

you know you want more than kissing and that there’s always a building pressure between your legs when he pulls you on his lap. 

you know on more than one occasion, you’ve wanted his hands that’d rest on your hips to go just a little further down. slip in the waistband of your pants and meet the wetness and heat through your underwear.

you’ve wanted to see his pink hair between your legs as you experience getting eaten out of the first time, holding back moans in the crease of your elbow as his tongue explores every inch of you. 

you know you want to look up at him with tears in your eyes and a heaving chest, ask if you can please suck him off because you’ve also never done that before. 

he can see the arousal and lust clouding your eyes the more the silence elapses, his cock quickly hardening as he takes in the sight of you on his bed ready for him to take you. 

it’s just a matter of how and when he’s gonna. how and when you tell him like the good girl he knows you are. 

“how much further are you thinking, angel?” his deep voice finally asks, successfully breaking the silence and building the thick tension. 

you let out a breathy exhale when he pushes you on your back, the knot in your stomach tightening as he looks down at your body. 

“what do you want me to do, huh?” he asks, the smirk and feeling in his chest growing when he sees you start to breathe heavily on his bed. your legs are nearly shaking from the build up in pressure, your tongue licking over your dry lips. 

“i... yeonjun...”

he bites back the groan threatening to leave his mouth at you moaning his name, holding himself above your body as he hand spays out against your stomach. 

“why are you moaning my name baby? i haven’t even done anything.”

“but... but i want you to. so bad.”

your voice is whiny and pathetic but it’s all it takes for him to snap, his hand moving from your stomach to between your legs. 

he can feel the heat and pulse of your pussy and has to suppress his own groan again, completely getting off on the feeling that you, the innocent little tutor he’s been wanting to ruin since he saw you last year, is laid out on his bed and dripping just for him. 

“please, yeonjun,” you whine again, completely out of your mind with lust when you feel his hand on you. 

he bites down on his lip before he starts gently running his hand over you, barely putting any pressure on you. he’s just relishing in the how only that makes you spread your legs immediately, hips bucking up closer to his hand. 

he pulls his hand away and pins your hips to the bed, his face hovering above yours before you can even whine again. 

“be patient, angel. or this isn’t gonna work,” he growls lowly, his thumbs running over your pants gently. 

“i- i’m sorry,” you gasp out, tears pricking your eyes because this feeling is so new and foreign and overwhelming. “i just... i’m so...”

“you��re so what?”

“i want you,” you say immediately, thinking back to your conversation with him outside of soobin’s house. when the words you’re telling him now are the same ones he told you. “i want you more than you know.”

a scoff leaves his mouth when you say that, remembering those words leaving his own mouth that night.

but the difference here is, he thinks, is that you really didn’t know that.

you didn’t know how just sitting there and smiling at him and talking to him so sweetly was making him want you. your soft smiles and vanilla scent and the wide-eyed look you’d always innocently give him.

but he’s aware of how much you want him, in this moment. he can feel it, smell it, see it. he knows just how much you want him because he wants you the same way. 

your pants and underwear are off in one shot, a gasp leaving your mouth when you realize you’re completely bare in front of him. 

he’s quick to look at your face to see if you’re okay, that teary wide-eyed look and teeth sinking in your lip greeting him; another whiney and mumbled “touch me,” leaves your mouth before he can ask.

a smile lights up his face that makes your heart jump even through this all, a teasing look in his eye even through the arousal and painful hardness in his pants.

“say please, angel.”

“please touch me, yeonjun. please.”

his fingers are on your clit right after the words leave you, your mouth hanging open and legs spreading when you’re immediately filed with a sense of some relief. 

“you’re so wet for me, angel. how long have you wanted this, huh?”

you babble out something you can’t even hear through your pounding ears but it must be something good and polite enough because you feel a finger enter you a few seconds later.

he hisses at the tightness around his finger and has to remember to be gentle with you, fingering you slowly and sweetly as he toys at your clit. 

“you’re doing so good, baby. so good for me.”

you cry out a moan that has his fingers moving quicker, curling them just right before you scream out his name; you’ve never ever felt anything like this before.

“yeonjun, oh, my god.”

“i know, baby, it’s okay,” he says, allowing his fingers to work over you and in you for a few seconds before he forces himself to remove them. your head shoots up and the sight almost makes him smile, a frustrated look in your teary eyes that has him cocking his head.

“why did you-”

the fingers just inside you are below your chin, the slickness of his fingers on your skin making you widen your eyes. is that... is he about to make you...

you hold back another moan when you watch him raise his fingers to his own mouth, his eyes rolling back when he tastes you. you don’t know if you’re a little grossed out or even more turned on but you think it must be the latter if the way your legs start to shake again and your lower stomach tightens. 

“you taste so fucking sweet, angel. can i eat your pussy?”

he could tell how scared you were when you first got here, not seeing a hint of that fear now but still needing to check before he pulls you on his face and has his way with you.

“y-yes, please, yeonjun, oh my-”

you can’t even get the words out before his hands are taking off your shirt, removing the straps of your bra and pushing them down until your boobs pop out. 

perky nipples spring into the air and he can’t stop the groan that leaves him, circling his tongue around each of them before he tells you to unhook it. your eyes meet his for just a few seconds before you reach out to take it off, quickly throwing it on the floor before you, without thinking, cover yourself. 

his eyes flash and he immediately snaps out of his trance, placing his hands on your arms but not attempting to move them. 

“what are you doing, angel?”

and it’s at this moment, something as silly as him seeing your chest completely naked, that you’re feeling insecure. 

you know he’s been with girls before this, college girls who definitely have bigger boobs than you and know what they’re doing. girls who are prettier and sexier and don’t blush or whine at the slightest hint of his touch of them. 

“i... i know you’ve been with prettier girls before. an-and i don’t think they’re that nice.”

“angel, i don’t know if i’ve gotten this across enough but you’re the most beautiful girl i’ve ever met,” he says, the sweetest words to ever leave his mouth not even making him blink.

because he needs you to know in this moment that you are. he can’t stand the insecure, fearful look in your eye that he’s not gonna find you desirable because you’re comparing yourself to other people. 

“that’s a lie,” you weakly mumble out, tears stinging your eyes because this is so stupid. now you’re ruining the moment and he’s not gonna wanna do this with you. you’re proving just how inexperienced and unfamiliar you are with-

“i don’t lie.”

your eyebrow raises and he can’t help but smirk, the realization that your whole relationship started off lying to your teacher making him let out a deep chuckle. 

“i mean i don’t lie to you, angel, i would never lie to you,” he says, reaching down to press a long kiss on your lips. it’s the most intimate kiss you’ve ever had with him, mouths parting on one another like you’re trying to get all your worries and reassurances out on one another.

him that you’re just as desirable as he knows you are and you that you really don’t know what you’re doing but you wanna do this with him. 

“you’re beautiful, baby, and if anyone’s not worthy of the other, it’s me.”

his words make your eyebrows pull together, the look in his eye one you’ve never seen before. probably the most vulnerable and honest you’ve seen him look at you. 

“but i’m gonna do my best to be, angel, so please... don’t think that,” he says, pulling your arms away from your chest. 

he feels relief flood through him when you allow him to do say, his head dipping again to place small pecks on your chest before taking another nipple in his mouth. 

he moans around you at the same time you do, throwing your head back against his pillow. your fingers lace through the back of his pink hair and you feel your pussy clenching around nothing, moaning out his name when his tongue carefully and slowly licks around the other neglected one. 

“you also have the sweetest pussy i’ve ever tasted,” he mumbles around your nipple, swirling his tongue around it one more time before grabbing your hips and throwing himself on his back. 

“so sit on my face, angel. now.”

you have no time to feel hesitant or insecure because, one, he pulls you up before you can do anything else and two, you’re far too eager to feel this for the first time. 

his tongue latching onto your clit causes you to moan out his name, trying your best to not buck your hips against his face. but his tongue feels like it’s everywhere, flicking at it your clit and up inside you and quickly making your legs shake around him. 

your hazy eyes look down and you see his own looking up at you, a hot arousal in them as you cover the rest of his face with your body. pink strands stick to his forehead and you bite down on your lip so you don’t scream, your eyes rolling back when he eats you out like a man starved.

he’s moaning against you and pulling you closer to his face, your hips bucking into his mouth as you whine out his name over and over. 

you’re so out of it and dazed with arousal and need that you don’t even think twice when an idea pops into your head. 

you buck your hips a tad harder than usual that he disconnects his mouth from you, about to ask if he hurt you somehow before you flip over on his face. your body leans over his stomach until your mouth is by the tight groin of his sweatpants, clumsily slipping down his boxers until his cock springs free.

it’s hard and red and looks completely neglected, screaming to be relieved by you.

so even though you have no idea what you’re doing, only guided by works of fiction and things you hear in the hallway, you wrap your mouth around the head of his cock.

you hear him growl at your name but only continue to suck him off, your tongue circling around him as your mouth moves up and down. you smile when he moans against your pussy just so moan around his a few seconds later, like he knew you were smiling against him at hearing that noise leave him.

he didn’t think he could get any harder than he already was but you continue to impress him and prove him wrong, his mouth working quicker on you to aid in his growing arousal. 

a loud moan of your name leaves his mouth when you deep throat him, a growled “fuck,” against your wetness that makes you whine against him. 

“i wanna fuck your mouth so badly,” he growls against you, wrapping his tongue around your clit just as you let out a strangled “please.” but he only shakes his head and continues his vigorous assault, sticking two fingers inside you that causes your scream to be muffled around his cock.

“you’re gonna come first, angel. i want you to come on my fucking face.”

and even though he already seemed to know it from the moment he met you, he sees that what he wants from you, he’s always gonna get. 

your lower stomach tightens before a feeling of euphoria consumes you, your legs shaking and hips bucking before an orgasm rips right through you. your head is leant against his head as you try to catch your breath, whining slightly when he pulls you off of him.

he lays you down gently on the bed before placing a kiss to your cheek. 

“you did so good, angel. how do you feel?”

“mmm.. that was the best thing i’ve ever felt.”

a deep laugh leaves him at your sleepy, dazed look, taking his shirt off so he can dab at your wet legs. you wince a little at the sensitivity and he mumbles an apology, laying on his back and opening his arms to you.

“lay with me, baby.”

a small smile crosses your face as you fall into his bare chest, sighing contently with your head resting over his chest. you can hear his heartbeat against your ear and feel his lips against your head, his fingers running over your arm slowly.

you’ve never been more comfortable and at ease than you are in this moment. even with the storm raging outside and the unknown parts of your relationship still coming, you feel happy. 

happy and safe and so stupidly content.  

“angel?”

you look up at him when you hear his voice break the silence, your chin against his chest as you meet his gaze. 

he smiles upon seeing you, his hand coming up to pat down your messy hair. 

“i like you. a lot.”

you bite down on your lip to hide your growing smile, daringly taking the first move to press a sweet peck on his lips.

“i like you, too. a lot, a lot,” you giggle out, the pink on your cheeks making his heart squeeze in his chest. “but i think you already knew that.”

“i was hoping,” he hums lowly, bringing you back into his chest. you smile against him as you inhale his scent, moving your body closer to him until you feel your leg hit a hard, fleshy piece of skin. 

your eyes widen and pulse quickens when you see he’s still hard and aching, the content look on his face completely disregarding it. 

“yeonjun...” you mumble, shamelessly staring at his dick a few inches from your leg. 

he peeks an eye open and sees you staring down at it, a sheepish smile crossing his face; he looks a tad embarrassed and you shouldn’t find it as endearing as you do. 

“sorry. it’ll go down eventually.”

eventually being when he gets up to go to the bathroom and jerks himself off. because there’s no way in hell he’s gonna go flaccid with you all naked and cuddled against him.

“you mean you’re not gonna fuck me?”

his eyes widen and cock twitches when those words leave your mouth, his hand falling to your jaw so you can look at him. his eyes roam your face when he sees the heavy desire building in your wide-eyed gaze, the perfect contrast of sweet and lustful that has him holding back a groan. 

“where did you learn to talk like this?” he hums lowly in your ear. 

you smirk against him before you bring your hand up to his mouth, his eyes searching yours. but you’re only staring back just as intensely, rubbing yourself against his leaking cock laying between you. 

“spit on it, please.”

he can’t even stop his groan from leaving him this time, painfully hard and ready to bust. you learned so fast what he likes and that’s when you’re both polite and eager.

“baby girl,” he moans, bringing his face down to place a messy, dominating kiss on yours. he pulls your mouths apart after allowing his tongue to explore your mouth, a string of spit connecting your lips. 

his eyes fall to your mouth before he’s tipping your head back, your hand clutching onto his shoulder and tightening when, suddenly, he spits in your mouth. 

your eyes widen but he smirks before you can say anything, wordlessly bringing your hand to his mouth and spitting on it as you so requested. you let out a shaky sigh, eyeing him warily before he gives you a nod.

it’s only then that you wrap your hand around his cock, watching as his eyes flutter shut and he leans his head back. 

“there u go, angel,” he hums lowly, your hand twisting over the tip before exploring down. 

he can feel your hesitance and unsureness but it only makes it that much more enjoyable for him, knowing this is the first time you’ve done this - although he does wonder how you knew to spit on it first. 

his words spur you on and you wet your hand again, twisting and turning on every ridge of his cock. his moans of your name cause wetness to gather between your legs, your eyes meeting his to see them right on you.

“please fuck me, yeonjun.”

you didn’t have to ask him twice before he pushed you on your back. he fumbled to take his sweatpants off fully, discarding them on the floor before pulling you toward the end of bed.

you look down at him with furrowed eyebrows before a loud gasp leaves you, his mouth back on your pussy before he slides two fingers in. he preps you again until you’re coming around him, his mouth hot around you while his fingers are curled and relentless.

“p-please, yeonjun. i wanna- feel you.”

“and you will, angel, i promise,” he says, pressing one last kiss to your swollen, wet clit before going up to your face. “you’ve never done this before, right?”

he knows it and you know it but he still needs to ask. needs to know he’s gonna be the first person to take you and ruin you. 

“no,” you immediately respond, shaking your head as tears well up in your eyes. 

he responds by smiling, placing one last long kiss on your mouth before cupping your face gently.

“it might hurt, okay? i’ll go as slow as you need.”

you nod your head as you relax on your back, looking down to see him positioning himself between your legs. he swirls the tip of his dick around your wet clit and opening, watching as your dripping hole tries to suck him in.

“holy fuck,” he growls out, “you’re so wet, baby. it’s gonna feel so fucking good.”

you whine unintelligible words but he knows to just soothe you. bring his hand to your waist and rub slowly as he promises to be in you soon.

the stretch at first in painful and unfamiliar, your face pulled into a grimace despite the deep groan leaving him.

“oh, angel,” he growls lowly, his dark eyes meeting yours to see your face twisted in pain. “are you okay? does it hurt?”

“y-yes, but it’s okay. just... slow,” you say quietly, nodding your head reassuringly. 

he hovers over your face as he inches himself in further and further, your breaths shaky and body tense as the pain worsens. 

“i’m sorry, baby, you’re doing so good.”

you nod your head and he kisses away the tears, a sigh of relief leaving you when he stops moving. he’s still inside you for a few seconds, allowing your tight walls to adjust around him before he starts moving.

it takes a few thrusts for the burning pain to subside, replaced by a full, warm feeling that had you moaning quietly into the air. 

“does it feel good now, baby?” you hear yeonjun ask, his thrusts speeding up as his body lays over you. “do you like my cock in you?”

“y-yes,” you mumble out, throwing your legs around his waist. 

he growls lowly as he starts fucking into you, keeping his pace steady and just hard enough to make you lose your mind; because he doesn’t wanna hurt you but you also feel so good, he can’t help but chase after his orgasm.

“tell me you’re mine.”

“i-i’m yours, yeonjun,” you whimper out, his hand coming down to your clit making you cry out again. “i’m yours. yours, yours, yours,” you repeat dumbly, having no sense of control over yourself as an immense pleasure builds inside you. 

he thrusts into you hitting a certain spot that has a scream leaving your mouth, a sadistic smirk on his face.

“that’s right, angel. you’re mine. you’ve been mine ever since i saw you last year,” he growls lowly, remembering the first time he saw you and knew you were gonna somehow effect him like this. 

“i wanted to ruin you then, baby, because i knew you’d be mine.”

“yeonjun,” you whine, thrusting your hips into him at his words. remembering all the times he caught you staring at him. all the times you’d watch him and thought about how handsome he was.

how someone like him would never want someone like you. 

but he wants you and you want him and it’s still something you can’t quite believe. you know you’re both different but it seems to be something that works, him bringing you out of your comfort zone and you making him wanna be someone better.

“i’m gonna come, angel,” he grunts out, “i’m gonna fucking come. come with me.”

you feel the knot in your stomach unravel before you’re both moaning each other’s names, chests heaving and his breathing harsh as he holds himself lazily above you. 

he drops his head into the crook of your neck, attempting to catch his breath despite the feeling of your post orgasm spazzing around him.

the pounding takes a few seconds to subside, a final moan leaving him before he pulls out of you. 

he’s quick to collapse onto his back, hanging his arm off the bed lazily as he searches for his shirt. 

he cleans you up a few moments later, watching you with a small smile before he pulls you down onto him again.

“how was that?” he mumbles quietly, his eyes closed and head resting atop yours. 

“really good,” you mumble back, your own eyes closed as you attempt to catch your breath. you still feel a little sticky but it’s not something you mind in this moment, your post orgasm daze leaving you content. 

it could be the post orgasm daze making you say the next words that leave your mouth. on such a high of emotions and endorphins and utter contentment that the warm feeling in your chest if confused.

or maybe it’s the months of getting to know the boy beside you who had such a bad reputation. who you were terrified of at first and thought was mean an scary, thought for sure he was gonna find you weird and nerdy.

but you’ve never felt more wanted or desired by another person. no one’s ever looked at you the way he’s looked at you before or made you feel the way he’s made you feel. 

“i... i think i love you, yeonjun.”

love had always scared yeonjun and especially hearing a confession like that after sex - it had always been his worst nightmare and, truthfully, an embarrassing moment.

but he’s never felt as listened to and comforted by someone else ever in his life before. someone who, from the second he met them, trusted him and thought of him to be good and smart and capable. 

he didn’t know why and he didn’t know what he did for you to think of him that way but he knows he’s never gonna take it for granted. because from the second he saw you, he really did know you were gonna be his.

“i think i might love you, too, angel.”

[sunflowerdaisybee]

Dream team Dads x their son (separate) getting bullied and they fight back, but they end up getting in trouble instead of the bully

I hate public schools that punish kids for self defense, it’s just not right, anyways here ya go, hope you enjoy :] also I just realized you said Dream Team but I already wrote all five Feral Boys so have a bonus

Summary: Your dad stands up for you

Pairing: P!Feral Boys X Reader (You’re their kid)

Pronouns: He/him

[A/n]: Requests are closed, please check back later <3 650 follower special open though 

Dream:

When he got a call saying that you had been in a fight and were being suspended, he was furious

He was ready to ground you for life until he heard what had really happened

“Well the other kid swung first but your son did fight back and gave the other kid a black eye.”

“So you’re punishing my son for self-defense?”

“We don’t put up with fighting of any kind.”

“And I don’t put up with unfair punishment. (Y/n) say goodbye and go grab your things, we’re transferring you to a new school.”

Was not happy to hear that you fought someone, but was also not happy to hear that you were getting punished for something that wasn’t even your fault

If the school was adamant about punishing you he would have you transferred to another school 

He strongly believes in fair punishment but not for something that isn’t your fault

George:

Was not impressed when he got a call saying you were being suspended for fighting, he was ready to ground you for life

Though his attitude quickly changed when he heard the full story

“Wait wait, so you’re telling me that (Y/n) is getting suspended for defending himself?” 

“No, he’s getting suspended for fighting on school grounds, which is strictly prohibited.”

“He only fought because that kid was trying to kill him. (Y/n) let’s go, I have to make some phone calls to some important people.”

This man straight up calls the Superintendent and demands that the kid who started the fight gets properly punished and that your suspension gets lifted

He will not stand, or sit, for you getting punished for defending yourself, he will do whatever he needs to do to make sure your suspension is lifted

This man is the definition of ‘Don’t talk to me or my son ever again.’

Sapnap:

Was furious when he heard the news, storming into the school ready to ground you for all eternity

Though he only became more upset when he heard you didn’t even start the fight, you were only acting in self-defense

“Your son nearly broke that poor kid’s arm.”

“That poor kid was the one who started it, he could’ve broken my son’s arm. If that kid didn’t want to get hurt he shouldn’t have gone around picking fights with other kids.”

“I understand how you feel but your son-”

“No no, here’s what’s gonna happen. (Y/n) will not be punished, he will not get in any trouble for this, and that kid will get punished properly and write an apology to my son. Unless you’d like me to make a call to the Superintendent and have him deal with it?”

This man is so fast to turn the tables and does not hesitate to cut off the principal

He doesn’t care how badly that other kid was hurt, you were simply defending yourself

It’s almost terrifying how mad this man can get when it comes to you, there is no getting him to back down unless it involves the outcome he wants

Quackity:

Now Quackity is not mad, more disappointed in you than anything, he knew that he taught you better than this

So he was very grateful to hear that you weren’t actually fighting, but he was still very upset to hear that you were getting punished

“Miss, I understand that you guys aren’t fond of fighting but I’m not fond of unfair punishment.”

“I see what you’re saying but I can’t let this go.”

“(Y/n) was defending himself, if you intend to punish him then I will take things up with the Superintendent. I’m sure he’d love to hear that the children in his school district are being improperly treated. You do have his number right?”

He’s calm and collected but seriously dangerous, ready to do whatever needs to be done

While he wouldn’t threaten someone, he would threaten their job, talking about going to their boss with the issue or similar things

Definitely not the man you want to mess with, law school has taught him a lot and he knows how to get his way

Karl:

Was both mad and disappointed in you, how could you do something like this?

When he was told that you had acted in self-defense he was still a little disappointed, but more at the school system than you

“Your son broke the other kid's nose. We would like to see him put into anger management classes before he returns to school.”

“Well then I’d like to see that other kid put into anger management and behavioral classes.  He shouldn’t be running rampant and attacking other children. (Y/n) did nothing wrong, I’ll have a talk with him but he does not need anger management.”

“Mr. Jacobs his behavior-”

“Was completely normal. You can’t tell me that if someone was attacking you that you’d just sit there and take it.”

He doesn’t need to put their job at risk, he just flips the situation onto the principal

Would not allow the school system to punish you for acting in self-defense, it’s just not right

Would take you to school the next day and glare down any teacher who tried to say that you’re suspended

Taglist: @joyfullymulti @rokkyy @minty-ghast @stupid-dummyfroppers @monochromeno @dreamsmpfangirl