#im at the front desk & im literally on the phone taking down notes and hes mad because i didnt jump up to open the door for him???!! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

loomis-maxima · 4 years ago

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𝘵𝘸𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘥

a/n : this is... pure filth and i’m not even sorry, im also sleep deprived so if it sucks, my bad. word count : 4k requested : yes and no warnings : 18+ only/ mentions of drugs/threesome/unprotected sex/name calling yk.. all the good stuff. [ty to @anongirl007 for brainstorming shit w me]

It was known that Chishiya and Niragi were both men that liked getting what they wanted, and they both knew exactly how to get it. The problem with that is they’re both so similar, but so different. Niragi would use his placement in the Militans and his twisted love for inflicting fear, pain and murder on anyone that would get in his way or try and stop him from having what he truely desired. _______________ Almost nothing was worse than the feeling of entering a game that was literally based on luck. Even with such a simple task to pick between 3 pills. One, that will kill you the second you take it. The other two.. Not as bad. Separated from your game partners, you stared down at three simple pills on top of a simple desk. That’s all that was in the room, besides the door to get out. You assumed Niragi and Chishiya’s rooms looked similar. The thoughts of taking the wrong pill and having your life ended, sent fear through your whole body, but there was a feeling of adrenaline that rushed through you too. Maybe that explained the current.. situation.. That you had gotten yourself into with Niragi, basically signing yourself up to be used by him whenever he felt like it, but also all while wanting some part of Chishiya. If Niragi knew that his toy wanted someone other than him, he would be rabid, let alone that someone being the one Niragi hated the most… he wouldn’t hesitate to make you regret even having the thought of another man. Don’t get it mixed up, there was only one reason why he wanted you, and it definitely wasn’t in a romantic way, to him, you’re just a hole he could have anytime, any place. Which was fine for you.. But you couldn’t help but shake the want for Chishiya. Focusing your thoughts back on the objective at hand, you looked closely at the small pills before you. No matter how hard you thought, you couldn’t figure this out. Checking the time on the phone that was provided you saw that you had one minute left to make a decision. You didn’t even want to think about what would happen if you ran out of time. Unlike Chishiya and Niragi, you didn’t observe the entrance to the separate rooms close enough to have figured this out. What you managed to miss was along the long hallway, there were three smaller hallways in front of them, all leading to three different rooms. They both picked up the repeating numbers unlike you, leaving you to your game of luck. With the sound of your phone alerting you that you had 30 seconds left to complete the game, you could have swore you felt a bead of sweat roll down your forehead. Your heart pounded in your ears as hurriedly picked up the second pill, the ten second countdown began. Without time to think you threw the pill into your mouth and swallowed it just before the countdown hit one. You closed your eyes tight, waiting for something to happen. Nothing. ‘’I passed’’ you said to yourself quietly, opening your eyes to look around the room. The door in front of you that was once sealed shut was opening right before your eyes. The feeling of relief quickly ran through your body as you exited the room before walking down another long white hallway to another door, leading you back out to the world. ________________________________ Unlike what you thought, the pill you ended up taking wasn’t the pill that had no side effects.. Instead, shortly after arriving at the Beach, you felt red hot all over your body, your hands were clammy and there was a weird feeling in the pit of your stomach that you couldn’t quite put your finger on. You hoped Kuina couldn’t tell there was something up with you, especially not knowing what it was yourself. You could thank the blue light that's shining from the pool for slightly blocking out how red your face was. As you both discussed the different games each of you had taken part in, you caught a glimpse of familiar long, dyed grey hair passing through the crowd. Once you could distinctly see Chishiya’s face you instantly felt that feeling in your stomach almost multiply. As he approached you and Kuina, he could quickly tell that something was up with you. Chishiya made note of the flush in your cheeks unlike everyone else, the way a couple of strands of your hair stuck to your forehead because of the heat that had taken over your whole body, the fact your pupils had largened, or the way your lips were slightly parted, almost as if you were lost for breath.. But not to the extent that it was noticeable, except for Chishiya. He had studied every single detail on your face when you had first joined the Beach. Never admitting it though, deep down he knew how he felt about you, never to mention it or even hint at the idea. Chishiya knew that would make him look weak, and that was something he couldn’t have happen. Chishiya stood beside Kuina, his hood up but his head slightly back with an amused smirk lightly on his face. He raised an eyebrow at you, ‘’So what pill did you pick y/n?’’ he asked, shoving his hands into his hoodie pockets. His voice caused your ear tips to burn as you felt a sudden warmth between your legs.. Fuck. Trying to distract yourself from the feeling, that almost became painful, you racked your brain to remember what number you had chosen. ‘’Uh.. 2, I think, why?’’ you asked, trying to keep your voice steady, not even believing your own voice. It looked as if Chishiya slightly chuckled at your answer, for a moment you wondered if he knew, but how would he? Chishiya just shrugged a little before speaking. ‘’No reason, just curious’’ he lied right to your face, all while figuring out how to use this to his advantage. He knew had taken the middle pill just from one look at you, but he also knew exactly what was going to happen. Of course with just your luck, you had picked the one that just happened to be narcotics, crushed up and put into an empty pill capsule to match the appearance of the other too. You didn’t notice Kuina disappearing to join Arisu, until you noticed Chishiya take a step a little closer to you. You also didn’t notice the eye contact he had made with Niragi across the pool, and that was the first step to his idea, this would’ve been the best advantage he could ever have had. ‘’You should really be careful with the pill you took’’ he said smirking slightly, intentionally trying to catch Niragi’s attention and have him come over. You didn’t know what to say, words being ripped from your brain as his slightly rough voice sent a feeling of a deep need to be fucked as you felt even more warmth leak from between your legs. He took your silence as his go ahead to continue speaking, ‘’you really shouldn’t be out here when the drugs fully take over if you think this is bad right now’’ What he said next was something you never would have thought of him saying this, ‘’you should go to your room, I’ll come after and help you’’ he spoke with a wink. It was the most uncharacteristic for him- At least towards you. You took no convincing as you knew exactly what he meant, also not giving a shit about what would happen if and when Niragi found out. The almost pure animalistic feeling of lust ran over you. You didn’t care what would happen, you needed to be filled and it was gonna happen one way or another. ‘’Don’t take too long.’’ you said while nodding, then walking off back into the large building Just as Chishiya hoped, once you had retreated back inside to wait for him, Niragi had approached him. The wink that he had given to Niragi’s toy, was one step too far. Before Niragi could even open his mouth, Chishiya spoke. ‘’Before you start with your brainless insults and threats, you should know that in the game, you clearly didn’t know the effects of the pills.’’ he smirked, not fearing Niragi was always a benefit, especially when Chishiya could once show off his superiority and intellect. The two were rivals, both thinking that they were better than the other and would go to any lengths to prove it. But this time Niragi didn’t speak back as fast as usual, but the angry expression still resonated on his face, his tongue in his cheek, his pierced eyebrow raised while staring down the shorter man. With Niragi’s instinct he pressed the tip of his rifle right to Chishiya’s chest, ‘’well tell me, or I’ll blow your heart out in front of everyone here.’’ Niragi spat into his face, he hated how Chishiya could have the balls to even think of speaking back to him, the fact he didn’t fear him only intensified the hate for the intellectual grey haired man. Calling Niragi’s bluff, he let out a little scoff of air with a slight grin on his face as he spoke, ‘’You wouldn’t. Here’s why; if you kill me, you’ll never know. So unless you give me what I want, I won’t tell you.’’ he said, still standing strong even with the rifle pressed right against him. Niragi frowned right at him, he knew he was right. Niragi scoffed, his stubbornness working against him when he needed to know what Chishiya knew. After a few moments of silence, Niragi took the firearm from his chest. Chishiya knew this was risky, but he knew exactly how it would play out. Another competition between them. ‘’And what the fuck do you want?’’ Niragi said, his voice almost like a knife as the words came from his mouth. ‘’Considering I know you won’t let me have was I really want, I’ll compromise.’’ Chishiya spoke, standing up straighter and crossing his arms over his chest. Playing his cards right, he could get Niragi to agree before verbally agreeing. ‘’y/n took the wrong pill. Intense narcotics and assuming you right now, you took the right pill like me. The bad, or good thing about the drugs, is she’s going to be chasing a release that she won't be able to satisfy herself of.’’ He took a breath to try and let Niragi figure out what he means, except he didn’t. With another little chuckle under his breath Chishiya spoke out again. ‘’It means someone else has to do it. And knowing you wouldn’t let anyone fuck her, we’re both going to do it. Just another thing I’ll prove better than you at.’’ Chishiya knew the last comment would get under Niragi’s skin. With a slight nod of Niragi’s head and him accepting the challenge, it was set. ‘’Don’t be disappointed when you realise I’m the only one that can make her scream, Chishiya.’’ With a slight game plan of how they would go about this, the two rivals headed to your room. Niragi hung back a bit after knowing you were waiting for Chishiya. The thought of his property letting someone else have you made his blood boil, he’d make sure you knew it too. Ahead of him, Chishiya walked to your room and let himself in. But the sight that he had been greeted with almost knocked the wind out of his chest. You, lying naked on your bed, your skin almost looking hot as you had your head back with one hand holding your hair back from your face. Your eyes were shut as your other hand was roughly rubbing your clit, your fingers occasionally dipping into your entrance causing you to leave a visibly wet patch underneath you. The pleasure you were giving yourself was so needed that you weren’t aware of Chishiya entering and staring at you like you were his last meal. It was when you felt weight dip at the end of the bed and a hand running up your leg that you realised you weren’t alone. Your throat tightened and you removed your hand once you opened your eyes to see Chishiya moving his hand up to your core. ‘’You really couldn’t wait huh?’’ he said, his fingers travelling up to where you needed him. You shook your head desperately, feeling your wetness dripping as you clenched pathetically around nothing. Chishiya smirked, looking down at your pussy, slowly dragging the tips of his fingers over your clit teasingly. The action made you almost cry out in need. ‘’Look at you.. So desperate.’’ you heard as you felt two of his fingers pushing into you before pulling them out and putting them into his mouth just as you made eye contact with him, sucking the wetness from you off them. Standing up he quickly pulled his clothing off. While pulling you to him and flipping you over onto your hands and knees, you facing the door. For reasons you wouldn’t know yet. Feeling you press yourself against him, Chishiya smirked to himself. ‘’You’re really desperate for it, aren’t you?’’ he said, running his tip along your folds, His words only pulling a whine and a nod from you, not understanding why he was dragging it out so long. You felt him lean over you to speak into your ear, his breath was harsh on the sensitive skin by your neck. ‘’As pretty as you are when you’re a mess, I won’t drag it out anymore, because I’ve waited too long to have this cunt all to myself.’’ . On the last word you felt his thick length slowly pushing into you, throwing his head back at the feeling of you around him. The pace he was going at was enough to break you fully. The feeling of him filling you as much as possible had you crying for more. In a desperate attempt to get some friction, you started grinding back against him causing his slightly curved dick to hit the right spot inside you, but slowly in and out. ‘’Chishiya please’’ you cried, burying your head into the sheets of the bed to muffle the whimpers that he was dragging out of you. He slowly started picking up the pace, each time hitting even harder and harder against you. Chishiya pulled your head back by your hair, your eyes rolling to the back of your head from the red hot feeling on your scalp that he had you in a rough grip by. ‘’Oh no y/n, you’re to call me Sir. Got it?’’ he groaned while fucking into you harder. Tears stung at your eyes, nodding as much as you could as he still controlled your head. ‘’Yes s-sir’’ As he was holding your head back and pounding into you, you opened your eyes and your heart almost stopped. Your eyes fell upon Niragi, standing right at the door leaning against it with his arms folded over his chest and he looked pissed. The awkward part being is having locked eyes with him as Chishiya fucked you through your first orgasm, a scream being ripped from your throat from the feeling of finally getting release, but you needed more. Noticing you looking back at him he pushed himself from the doorway dropping his arms while walking over to you as Chishiya let you fall to your chest, but continuing his steady pace of pounding into you. ‘’Really Chishiya? Sir? What makes you think any part of you is sir?’’ Chishiya’s eyebrows furrowed, his hair disheveled and just snapped back at him. ‘’The part that has y/n crying because of how good I can fuck her.’’ Niragi crouched in front of you with a look on his face that confused you. He almost looked amused. ‘’I knew it… You’re just a desperate little slut aren’t you?’’ Niragi said as he dragged his thumb along your cheek and across the tears that had run down your face from both pleasure and terror. He dragged his thumb across the tip of his tongue to taste the salty tears with a chuckle. Clinking of metal filled the room, the sound of Niragi’s clothes hitting the floor made you realise the situation you were in so you held yourself up with shaky arms that threatened to give way under you. Niragi smirked down at you as he ran his hand over the top of your head before harshly connecting the same hand to your face right after. Niragi knew exactly what you liked, and so did Chishiya as he felt you clench even harder around him as Niragi had marked your face. Knowing Niragi didn’t like to be kept waiting, you quickly opened your mouth for him to have full access to your throat. Putting his hand back into your hair, Niragi took hold of you as he pushed his cock between your lips, your throat opening up almost immediately, he basically had you trained. ‘’The only thing your mouth is good for is fucking.’’ NIragi said as he started thrusting roughly into your mouth. The timing of both men fucking you made sure you were always full, if Niragi wasn’t down your throat, Chishiya was buried in you, and vice versa. With the roughness of Chishiya’s thrusts caused Niragi’s cock to hit the back of your throat causing you to lose breath each time. They continued like this, using you at each end to their will. Niragi’s dick hit a little harder, causing your throat to close around his long length and choke. The feeling was so euphoric to Niragi he caught the back of your head and shoved your nose flush against his pelvic bone. He let out a mix of a laugh and a moan, almost sounding maniacal as he continued to ram your throat. ‘’That’s it, let daddy fuck your throat. I know you can take it’’ His words made Chishiya chuckle as he pulled out of your entrance, needing to take a break or else he would’ve cum right then. ‘’You’re so predictable Niragi… how pathetic’’ Chishiya’s words made Niragi’s assault on you stop, pulling his cock from your mouth. You coughed and spluttered trying to breathe, a task that was failing due to the burning in your core of feeling empty. ‘’Please.. Just fuck me’’ you said breathlessly, laying back down with your hand once again travelling between your legs. Chishiya didn’t have to be asked twice, lying back against the bed he rubbed his hand over his now red cock. You didn’t hesitate moving over him and hovering above his length before he grabbed your hips and slammed you down on him. Another scream was pulled from you as he started to fuck up into you, your hands that were once resting on his chest now by his head, holding onto his hair with your head buried in his neck as he continued to rail you. With moaning in his ear, and a mixture of your breathless voice begging for him to fuck you through another orgasm along with the sound of your broken voice repeatedly saying; ‘’sir’’ he knew he wouldn’t last much longer. You felt Niragi behind you, but didn’t pay much mind as you felt another wave wash over you. ‘’Fuck.. Yes, cum all over my dick’’ Chishiya said, somehow managing to hit a new speed as you cried out, moaning as you felt liquid rush out of you. Chishiya’s moan was sinful, he knew he was close but he couldn’t let himself cum just yet. Just as you felt the pleasure fade, you felt something cold drip on you from behind. A familiar feeling approaching as you felt one of Niragi’s long finger enter your hole that yet stuffed. The feeling wasn’t there for too long before you felt empty again, but soon that changed. Chishiya steadied his hips, realising what his enemy was now doing. You both heard Niragi moan, probably the sexiest moan you had ever heard, as your tight asshole slowly stretched to accommodate his huge dick. The pain of him shoving all of his length into your ass soon passed as Chishiya took the chance to start fucking you again. Your body went limp as both of their thrusts started to sync up, each time both as aggressive as each other. You didn’t even care that they made it into a competition, the feeling of having them both bottoming out of both of your holes was something you never experienced before, and might have just been the best. It wasn’t long after Niragi started to fuck your ass like his life depended on it, that your next orgasm washed over you. This one being so intense you couldn’t stop shaking and it felt like it never would end. More unintelligible mumbles of the words ‘’daddy’’ and ‘’sir’’ couldn’t stop falling out of your mouth. Both men enjoying the fact they broke you down finally, convinced they had literally fucked the brain cells out of you Niragi pulled you back against his chest, sinking back onto his heels so both men could continue chasing their own high. By the twitching of Chishiya’s cock inside you, you knew he was close, so was Niragi. ‘’Fuck, y/n, you’re so fucking tight, I wonder how Niragi feels about me filling his little toy up’’ Chishiya said breathlessly, causing Niragi to animalisticly growl but not speaking due to being so close to spilling himself inside you. The grey haired man’s hands reached up to grab both of your breasts, pinching your nipples as one of Niragi’s hands coming down to your front before pinching your clit a couple of times. The sounds you were making almost made both men cum on the spot. You could see the desperation on Chishiya’s face, and hear the desperation in Niragi. ‘’My little slut ready? You gonna cum?’’ Niragi moaned into your ear, one hand still rubbing your clit desperately all while biting down on your ear, ‘’daddy’s gonna fill that ass so good’’ and thats all it took. Both men sensing you clench around them, they finally were reaching their own release. Niragi dropped you on your chest on top of Chishiya before leaning over you, his hand holding himself up above you and Chishiya. One of your hands twisting into Chishiya’s hair, the other being twisted into Niragi’s hair behind you. The pleasure from the last orgasm was so intense, you could feel yourself getting light headed, you tugged on both mens hair while you buried your face into Chishiya’s neck, his hot skin becoming stained with your tears, but in a good way. Chishiya guided one of his hand to the back of your head, almost a sweet gesture, except his thrusts faltered along with Niragi’s as they both finally peaked, both of them sinfully moaning and swearing under their breaths and both finally releasing inside of you. You thought you couldn’t cum anymore at this point, but the filthy feeling of having both men fuck their cum into both your holes sent you into overdrive, your final orgasm finally rushing through you, Niragi could tell and pulled you up slightly so he could rub your clit with lightning speed causing you to squirt everywhere. As you all rode your orgasms out, Niragi was the first to pull himself from you in time to watch his cum slowly drip out of the hole he had abused for so long. You lifted yourself, barely, from on top of Chishiya and lying on your back, struggling to breathe. Already getting dressed, Niragi commented to Chishiya, ‘’See? I am better at it than you.’’ Shaking his head but not moving to get up Chishiya spoke out, his own breathing irregular too. ‘’No, I think we might need to have round 2.’’

#alice in borderland #aib #Alice in borderland smut #shuntaro chishiya x reader #chishiya x reader smut #suguru niragi x reader #niragi x reader #niragi x reader smut #chishiya x reader x niragi smut #god damn i need jesus #where is jesus #alice in borderland netflix #alice in borderland fics

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lululandd · 4 years ago

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Chance Encounters (II)

pairing: Vergil x f!reader

word count: 2k+

warnings: soulmate AU, soft!vergil, reader is perpetually anxious

notes: im,,, soRrY (also on ao3)

summary: You’ve lost the ability to speak and to breathe, everything seemed so comfortable in that moment in time, so right.

(●´□`)♡ ⁱᵐ ᵃ ˡʸⁱⁿᵍ ᵇⁱᵗᶜʰ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ˢᵘᵐᵐᵃʳʸ ⁱˢ ᵃ ʷʰᵒˡᵉᵃˢˢ ˡⁱᵉ ᵇᵘᵗ ⁱᵗ ᵈᵒᵉˢ ˡᵒᵒᵏ ⁱⁿᵗᵉʳᵉˢᵗⁱⁿᵍ ♡(´□`● )

[ch 1] | [ch 2] | [ch 3] | [ch 4] | [ch 5]

Dante had pleaded for you to not involve the police or any authorities and adamantly believed that this would be solved rather quickly. He needed to borrow your phone, which of course you refused at first, but he had assured you that he knows some lady that can finish the job in less than a week. You watch him with suspicion as the lady he talked to was literally named “Lady”, who yelled at him for the better part of five minutes before the phone gets passed to you and you two exchange information.

You were happy to hear that Lady promises that there will be construction workers coming tomorrow by late morning, and gave you phone numbers and addresses of local construction companies that you recognise, so your mind starts to ease a little. Taking whatever valuables you have left to go stay at your friend’s house, you glared at Dante when he offered you his place to stay for the next couple of days.

He lets out a hearty laugh when he saw your face, “Okay. Yeah. Staying with a complete stranger that literally broke your house is not a good idea.” He admitted.

A few days pass and Lady finally informed you that the repairs are finished, so you may take your keys from Dante’s office. Which is on the other side of town. You squint in suspicion, asking if she could deliver they keys to your friend’s house, but she outright refused, saying you need to take it up with Dante for that, as it is no longer her responsibility. You half-heartedly comply.

Dante’s office was a modest two-story building with a red neon “Devil May Cry” sign in the most seemingly deserted looking neighbourhood you have ever seen. You can practically feel your purse being stolen without your knowledge. You gingerly walk towards the foreboding double doors, and opened it slowly.

A large round table and a dirty leather sofa bathed in moonlight greeted you, and pushing it wider you can see stairs, and next to it, an empty desk. You carefully stepped inside, looking around for a sign of life, and you see him, asleep on the sofa, wearing a dark coloured jacket instead of his red coloured one that you saw the other day.

You walk towards him to ask where your keys are when he spoke.

“Come any closer and I will cut you down.”

It wasn’t Dante.

All your life you had always imagined those words were spat out, with hatred, or with haste and hurry, you had never thought it would be said so off-handedly. As if it was a greeting of some sort.

The elegant imprint on your ribs started to ache, first a warm simmer, before exploding a burst of warmth that seeped into your whole body. It lasted for a several seconds before subsiding.

You’ve lost the ability to speak and to breathe, everything seemed so comfortable in that moment in time, so right.

(It’s you, I found you, you, yes you—)

The man on the sofa opened his eyes and gave you a look before slowly sitting up, assessing you.

“You’ve come for the keys.” He spoke up drily, there is a coldness and detachment in his voice. Your tongue had turned to lead inside your mouth, and you nodded as an answer.

He went to the desk to open a drawer and get something from the top drawer, presumably your keys, and he doesn’t look away from you once. He walked towards you with an air of authority in his stride, stopping right in front of you, gently placing the keys in your outstretched hands.

You bravely look into his eyes for a moment before giving a slight bow and leave the building as fast as your legs can take you.

Home seemed small and unimportant after the whole exchange, and you absentmindedly checked everything as your mind is full of your him, the look on his face, the sound of his voice, the way he gently placed your keys into your hands. Your heart beats louder and louder in your ear, drowning out every other noise. The mark scorches, as if angry that you ran away from him.

The next time you met him was a complete and utter accident. You were out and about in the city when it started to pour and with no awnings in sight, you just walked into the closest shop to you.

The little bell at the door chimed loudly to announce your presence, and the beautiful cashier smiled and asked you if he could be any help. You shook your head, brushing excess water off your coat and stomping the water away from your shoes you took in your surroundings. You walked into an antique store.

Archaic equipments and ancient looking jewelleries were displayed in equally antiquated glass cases. Everything looks like it’s either made of glass, copper, or silver. A set of rings in a velvet display caught your attention and you walked towards them, admiring their intricate designs and smiling to yourself how you have to dress very differently for those rings to even look normal. You wanted to walk over to the necklace section to amuse yourself in more old vintage things when you bumped into someone. Whatever apologies you were so ready to say died in your throat.

It was him.

The words on your ribs tingle.

“No apologies?” He asked condescendingly.

You can’t. Everything stopped working, you can’t breathe, you can’t speak, you can’t even look at him. You bowed an apology, hoping he’d understand.

As soon as you look up, you saw Dante, and he beamed at you. “Oh hi! (Name), right?”

You beamed back at him as you nodded.

“You like antiques?”

You shook your head. You try to ask him back but no words would come out.

Dante seemed to understand that neither his or his brother’s presence made you comfortable and opted to leave, dragging your soulmate with him. “Come on Verge, let’s go look at hats.”

He must think you’re rude, impolite.

You anxiously fiddle with the receipt of the drink you bought in your hands as you shelter yourself in a café. You had run away from the antique shop when you felt him look at your direction numerous times with the scrutinising look that he has. Your fingers unconsciously brushed against your words, how fitting for it to be near your lungs, as every time you see him, you can never breathe properly.

(”Come any closer and I will cut you down.”)

The rain patters heavily on the café window, half drowning the chatter and the mellow music that’s playing. You wished you had a book with you, or anything to read.

“Is this seat taken?”

Oh no.

You recognise his voice, like an unforgiving arctic wind in the middle of winter. You looked up at him to be polite, and regret washes over as his eyes devours you, blatantly taking you in. His mouth seems to be perpetually in a downward curve, you notice. You also notice empty tables and seats through your peripherals before shaking your head and motioning for him to sit.

The table seems too small now, the distance between you too close, he might as well physically suffocate you.

He wore a dark coloured jacket, almost the same hue as what he wore the other night when you first met him. You also notice that Dante’s coats are different shades of red. You wonder why they dress in such colours.

I apologise if I was rude the first time we met.

You stared wide eyed at him. He signed the words at you. Does he think you’re deaf? Mute?

When you merely stared at him, he sighed and dug in his pockets for paper and pen, repeating his words from before. He wrote it on the back of his receipt, in the same handwriting that decorates your ribs. It seemed so familiar and yet so foreign, and you can’t help but stare at the piece of paper for a long time.

You merely shook your head and smiled softly at him before focusing entirely on your receipt, not hearing the barista call your name over and over.

He broke your concentration by leaving the table, but leaving his drink behind. You saw him grab something on the counter, and bringing a drink back, setting it in front of you. He spun the paper cup until your name showed on the side.

“I’m Vergil.” He declared as he put his hands out.

You shook his large gloved hand, offering him a smile. Something deep inside you seem to uncoil at the simmering heat of his grip on your hand. You suspect he feels something too, as the edges of his mouth quirked up very slightly, before ignoring you completely after, seemingly content with what just transpired. He took out a book from his inner jacket pocket and started reading. You quietly sighed, wishing you also have some sort of reading material. Looking around the café you saw an abandoned newspaper on an empty desk and you decided it would be good enough.

The two of you sat in silence for what seemed to be hours, and it started to worry you. The rain has started to let up, but it would still be a bother to go home in such a weather, especially now that it’s getting dark. You will have to face the storm soon, if you want to go home. You glanced up at him, not knowing if speaking would be a good thing right now. You want to say something nice to him, but also the prospect of letting him know you’re his soulmate made you uncomfortable.

For all the kindness and gentleness that he showed, his mere presence intimidates you. The sheer size of him, the way his gaze is always sharp and piercing when he looked at you, the way both his feet are steady and squared on the floor, the taut, bunching muscles of his shoulders that shows even over his thick coat, as if he’s perpetually ready for a fight.

Dante came to your rescue then by showing up in your peripherals and waved as he comes closer.

“Has she said it yet?” Dante said as he casually pulled a chair.

You blinked slowly, processing his words.

Vergil sighed out loud at Dante’s direction and he immediately realised his mistake, “Uh oh.”

For what seemed to be an eternity you exchanged looks with Dante and his brother. From this point of view, you don’t know how you could mistake Vergil as Dante the first time you met. If you may be blunt right now, Dante reminds you of a dog that knows it has done something wrong and is asking for forgiveness, whereas Vergil looks like a cat that stares you down in hopes to instil fear in you so you have to forgive him.

You slowly moved backwards, dragging the heavy metal chair onto the cement floor, before grabbing your drink and walking out.

“(Name), wait!” Dante yelled after you.

“You’ve done enough Dante.” Vergil warned, sighing as he rubbed his nose bridge.

“Verge, I’m sor—”

“Enough.” Vergil hushed him with a finality in his voice, silencing his brother successfully for once.

The bus ride home was quiet. Everyone seemed to be enjoying the post rain weather or just contentedly sitting in silence. It gave you space and time to think.

He knew.

They knew. Somehow. You have a suspicion that your name is printed on his skin. Either way, they knew. You felt the anxiousness, the pressure of saying the right thing, even though you know it’s ridiculous.

The next day a letter was slipped under your door, in a neat handwriting that you’ve seen almost every day by now.

I apologise for my brother’s recklessness. Do you have the patience to let me try again? Same place tomorrow?

-Vergil

There’s more notes underneath, in a chicken scrawl that made you laugh.

SORRYYYYYY ☹ ☹ I WAS JUST SO HAPPY THAT VERGIE MET HIS MATEY ☹ PLS SAY YES

♡ Dante (sorry again T^T)

Written beneath is a phone number, back in Vergil’s precise handwriting.

Just incase.

When you presented your doubts to one of your closest friends, they had threatened to go in your place, meet Vergil for you and bring him home if you didn’t go.

So you did.

But you wished you didn’t.

#vergil x reader #devil may cry #devil may cry imagines #part two of whatever this is #scuffed writing

136 notes · View notes

kookingtae · 4 years ago

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the equation of love (pt. 10)

pt 1 | pt 2 | pt 3 | pt 4 | pt 5 | pt 6 | pt 7 | pt 8 | pt 9 | pt. 10

professor yoongi x uni student reader

→scenario: When you met Yoongi in a club, you thought it was fate that brought the two of you together. But after you walked into your college math class for the very first time, you weren’t so sure anymore.

→genre: smut | fluff | angst

→word count: 10.5k

→a/n: alternatively: fuck it, it’s been five years and this wip has been staring at me for three of them, so im just gonna post it. i have not read this over since 2018, so pls dont judge me too harshly hhsdg it’s unedited and probably a bit cringy, but then again what ch of teol isnt? this is NOT all that i have planned for the series, but i figured something is better than nothing, right? and perhaps the saying better later than never applies here, too. maybe one day i’ll finally get around to finishing it (by then im sure no one will even be around to remember what teol is lmao) but until then, enjoy what ive been sitting on! and as always, if you’re still here, thank you for your endless patience and support with this series <3

→another a/n: after this will probably be an epilogue!

→tw: mentions of blackmail, r*pe and sexual assault (we mostly just get closure on the whole professor lee & jun situation!!)

→warning: this chapter is not a happy ending, but it’s not necessarily a BAD one either, so for those who don’t like to finish on an unhappy note, it’s up to you on whether you’d like to read it or wait for the epilogue to be posted!

Running water.

It was such a simple yet fascinating concept—atoms and molecules coming together to form the only substance on earth that has a natural state in all forms, while having the power to kill in three different ways. Solid, by hypothermia; liquid, by drowning; gas, by suffocation. This substance can take three different forms, yet it's most commonly a liquid, covering nearly 71% of the world with translucent bodies of water. Oceans, ponds, lakes—though the most enchanting of them all were rivers. They were always moving, crashing beyond rocks and bustling with the flow of the current and gravitational pull of the earth. Rivers were passionate, and strong, and no matter how hard one tried they couldn't break the whipping tide that was pushing against them. Nothing could cause the powerful force to falter.

But, like most things, even rivers must come to an end. The current stops flowing, and the waves stop breaking around the jagged rocks, and the powerful force that seemed it would never end dulls to a still, calm lull, as if the river was nothing more than a brief yet raging storm. All the passion, all the fight—over in a blink of an eye, left to dissipate into the mysteries of the vast ocean.

Staring down at the picture on the cell phone screen in front of me was like getting pulled by the current of a river; down, down, down I flowed until there was no river left around me and I was left stranded in the middle of the sea. Yoongi and I were once raging, and passionate, and ready to fight against anyone who tried to tear us down, but now the fight was over. We had been dragged too far, fading into a body of water that was not our own. This was bigger than us.

Yes, like the flow of a river, all things must come to an end.

"That's it," Yoongi gritted his teeth, and I felt the dip of the mattress beneath me as he rose to his feet in anger.

"Yoongi," I called his name in a warning tone, warily standing up from the bed and watching him move around the room. "What are you doing?"

"I'm over it," he said, hastily throwing the first articles of clothing he could grab from his drawers over his body. "I'm done dealing with all of this, Y/N! I'm going up to the school."

Despite the flare of determination that sparked in my heart at his words, his rage seeming to radiate off of him and onto me as well, I couldn't help the trepidation that I was also filled with; Yoongi didn't have a history of making rational decisions out of anger.

"Don't you think you should calm down first?" I offered, trying my best to match his pace around the room.

"No!" Yoongi suddenly skidded to a halt in front of me, his eyes wild and crazed. "I'm going to find her and I'm going to fucking kill her!"

I could only stand with a gaping mouth and watch as he stormed out of the room, leaving me with no choice but to pull on my old clothes and chase his stomping foot steps. He grabbed his keys before storming out of the apartment, down the stairs, and outside into the parking lot. I tried to ignore the blindingly bright sunlight as I squinted my eyes and continued after him.

"Follow me up to the school," Yoongi barked as he hopped into his car.

"Yoongi–" I started, but my consoling voice was cut off by the slam of his door. I frowned, scrambling to unlock my vehicle as his engine roared to life.

The drive to the university was a nerve-wracking one. I kept a watchful eye on Yoongi to make sure he wasn't speeding or swerving all over the road; they say you're not supposed to operate a vehicle while you're upset. Though it would seem my efforts were futile, because he did in fact speed and swerve, and all I could do was frown and try to keep up.

It wasn't that I wasn't angered by Professor Lee; I was furious, rage and disgust and frustration all stewing inside of me like a pot of water that was ready to boil over. But I just couldn't help but worry for Yoongi. I had always been the non-confrontational type, always hoping that with a little time things would get better if they were ignored long enough. But it would seem that my method was proven inefficient today, because as much as I had tried to ignore her antics, that wicked woman wouldn't stop at anything to make sure Yoongi and I were properly dragged through the mud and going down like a ship engulfed in flames. Yet as much as that angered me, I couldn't bare the thought of the turmoil it was causing Yoongi. I didn't know when I had started casting my own feelings aside and putting his above—it was a gradual thing rather than one, defining moment—but it was only another factor that proved how much I actually loved this man. And that very thought instilled a fear that shook me to the very bone.

We had a lot more to lose now than just his job and my education. We could be losing us. And that was more important now than it had ever been before.

Once we arrived at the university there were a lot of screeching brakes, messy parking and fumbling hands as I scrambled to catch up to his looming figure that seemed to stalk towards the building at an unnatural pace. The pounding of my heavy heartbeat was what drove me forward, anxiety rising with each quickened step that I took.

"Yoongi!" I yelled once I had lessened the distance between us, now dead center on the campus sidewalk. "Yoongi, wait!"

All of a sudden he whirled around, his abrupt halt causing me to crash straight into his chest. I let out a yelp in surprise, eyes wide and ready to interrogate him, before I felt the smooth curvature of his palms on either side of my face as he tilted my head up to his and slammed his mouth onto mine.

The world stopped spinning for a moment, everything around me fading into the motions of his plush skin, his soft lips exploding with flavor and spilling over my tastebuds, satisfying my thirst in a way that no water ever could. I didn't even question it for a second before I was melting into him, quite literally becoming putty in his hands as the rest of the world instantaneously escaped my mind.

It's funny the way that worked—the way he was able to completely erase everything that had once existed in the blink of an eye, just by his simple touch. Whether it was magic, or I was just that fucking whipped, I didn't know. But either way, I didn't possess the power to stop it even if I wanted to.

When Yoongi finally broke away, he was breathing heavily, his breath fanning across my face in cool puffs of air. "I don't care what anyone thinks anymore," he spoke onto my lips, his forehead pressing against mine with a firm force. "Let them see. The only thing I care about is you."

It was then that I was suddenly aware of our surroundings, the reality of our world crashing down around me as I glanced around at all the eyes watching us. It varied; there were those choosing to spare us a glance as they walked to and from their classes, those who stalled their current actions to lift their heads to us not once, not twice, but three times, and then there were those who stopped altogether, their widened eyes and slackened jaws dead giveaways that they knew exactly who Yoongi was: Professor Min, Algebra 101 instructor.

A stroke of his thumb across my cheek brought my attention back to him; I stared up into his eyes, the desperate look in them captivating me and making it impossible to look away. His chest was rising and falling beneath his shirt, his fingers were grappling at my face as he brushed my wisps of hair out of the way, silently begging me to understand, to agree with him.

And in that moment, I knew what I had to do.

My lungs were filled with a breath of newfound determination, dazed and driven by Yoongi's words and embrace. "I love you," I spoke with conviction, caressing the nape of his neck as if to give him more reassurance. "Let's go.”

With that I grabbed his hand, holding my head high for the rest of the campus to see as I started up Yoongi's stride towards the school's building. He was right beside me, weaving his fingers through mine and giving my hand an extra squeeze as if to say that he was here, that he was proud to let the world know that I was his and he was mine, and that he wasn't going anywhere.

We were going to take down Professor Lee.

The seminar room was empty of students when we stormed in. Seats were placed throughout the floor, papers were scattered on the desks, and Professor Lee was at the front of the room, fiddling with the cords from the projector screen.

At the sound of the door opening, her head snapped up. "Well well well, look what we have here," she smirked when she saw us, making no plans to move as she saw me marching over to her. "You know, I really don't think–"

Slap!

The impact of my palm to her face cut off her words, skin on skin contact crackling through the room and echoing into a deafening silence.

Professor Lee gasped, immediately grasping where a red mark was now forming on her cheek before looking up at me with wild eyes. "You just slapped me!" She cried in disbelief.

"You're damn right I did," I gritted my teeth, taking a threatening step towards her and raising my palm. "Want me to do it again?"

It was then that I felt Yoongi's hand on my back, the feeling having an instant calming effect over my senses whether he wanted it to or not. I sighed before visibly relaxing and lowering my hand.

"You're barbaric!" Professor Lee was foaming at the mouth, still holding her face with a slack jaw. "Are you forgetting that I'm a professor? When Dr. Kim finds out about this, I swear he'll–"

"Tell him!" I roared as loud as my vocal chords would let me. "Tell whoever, tell the whole world, I don't fucking care! I'm done with your bullshit, you selfish psychotic witch!"

With that I gave her one final shove against her shoulders, and when both of her hands flew out to grab ahold her surroundings in an effort to keep from falling over, I planted another slap right across her face. The impact stung my hand, but I didn't care. Seeing Professor Lee stumble through the air was worth it.

"Baby," Yoongi spoke in a gentle yet warning tone next to me, and I had almost forgotten he was there until I felt his grip slightly tighten around my waist. It was a comforting hold, as if to say he completely trusted and supported whatever I chose to do in this situation, but still a protective hold nonetheless. He wanted to make sure I wasn't going to get myself hurt.

"You know, what is your problem, exactly?" I tilted my head at her as she struggled to get her bearings straight. "Is there an actual reason you're doing all of this, or are you just mentally insane?"

"It–it's not right!" Professor Lee stuttered with wide eyes, raising a shaky finger to point at me and Yoongi. "Your relationship, it's–"

"Oh cut the bullshit, Sara," Yoongi let out a sound of disgust from beside me. "We all know that's not why."

"I... I..." she stumbled for words, wide eyes glancing back and forth between the two of us. "Who do you guys think you are? You can't just storm in here and start attacking me–"

I took a menacing step forward, pure rage making up for what I lacked in intimidation. "Are you fucking kidding me?" I fumed, reaching out to grab her again.

"No, please!" She suddenly cowered before I could get to her, shielding her head away from me with her arms. "I—Yoongi, I'm in love with you!"

Her confession sent me reeling backwards in a downwards spiral, my body instantly going limp as I watched her with a dumbfounded expression. A vast silence echoed throughout the room that could be cut with a knife before she finally spoke again.

"Ever since you started working here, I knew you were the one. I just knew it." Her voice was sad, exhausted now, and a look of defeat washed over her features.

"What?" Yoongi gaped in disbelief. "Sara, that was two years ago!"

"I know!" She spat harshly. "You don't think I know that? For two years, I had to deal with this silly crush I had on you. I had to spend every day with you, watching it bloom into love overtime, and there was nothing I could do about it."

"You could've just told me!" Yoongi exclaimed as if that was the obvious answer.

Professor Lee snorted humorlessly. "Yeah, and be made a fool of? No thanks." She lowered her eyes to the ground.

"Sara, we're grown adults. You could've acted like one and fucking said something to me about it, made a move, anything but drag my career under the bus!" Yoongi's voice was strained now, his eyes wide as if silently begging her to understand him while he was equally trying to understand her.

"I was going to!" She lashed out again while whipping her head up towards him. "I was working up the courage to ask you out on a date, and then I see that fucking slut on your lap and I–"

"Don't you dare call Y/N that," Yoongi suddenly growled, pushing past me and stepping towards her intimidatingly. "One more thing out of your mouth about her and I swear to god I will kill you right here, right now."

My breath hitched in my throat at his threat and I couldn't help but weave my arm around his to grab his hand, intertwining our fingers and squeezing tightly. He gripped mine back even tighter, as if he was desperately trying to latch onto whatever calming effect I seemed to have over him.

Professor Lee swallowed, choosing to stay silent and watch him carefully as jagged breaths rose and fell from her chest. "The point is," she continued on, "I saw you with someone else—someone who wasn't me. And that completely tore my heart to shreds."

"So the only solution is to ruin our lives," I chimed in sarcastically.

"I may not have gone about it the best way," she quickly gritted her teeth and shot me a glare before turning her attention back to Yoongi, "but I had to act on instinct. I still wanted to be with you, so I figured that maybe if I split the two of you up, you would have no one else to turn to but me."

Yoongi just stared at her, his face scrunched up in a mix of confusion and disgust. "Do you know how sick and twisted that is?" He asked.

"All I ever wanted was to be with you, Yoongi," she pleaded, her tone vulnerable now as she took a tentative step towards him and started to raise her hand up to caress his cheek. "I still do. It's not too late; we can leave now, just you and me and forget this whole thing–"

"Don't fucking touch me," he knocked her hand away with his forearm just before it could reach his face. "If you think I'm going anywhere with you, you're even crazier than I thought." He then stepped back to wrap his arm around my waist and pull me securely into his side. "I'm in love with Y/N, and I don't give a shit what rumors you or anyone else wants to spread about it. You're fucking pathetic."

At that moment there was the sound of a door bursting open, causing the three of us to turn our attention to the entrance of the room. There, standing in the doorway, was Dr. Kim.

The sight of him immediately deflated the elation I was feeling from Yoongi's words, instantly replacing them with a sense of anxiety and fear that lodged its way into my throat until I was sure I would die from suffocation. This was it; according to the text from Professor Lee, he had already seen the picture of me and Yoongi kissing. This was the moment that would decide our future forever.

I just hoped we had enough evidence against Professor Lee for him to take our side.

"So let me get this straight." Dr. Kim folded his hands on the dark oak wood of his office desk. "Professor Min and Y/N had relations before Y/N became a student here, while Yoongi was unaware of her age?"

"Yes sir," Yoongi nodded his head in assurance.

"And then you continued your relationship, even after finding out that she was your student."

"He didn't at first," I interjected in hopes of getting some of the heat off of Yoongi. "He tried to call it off, but I kept pushing it. The reason we got back together during school was my fault, not his."

Yoongi's eyes met mine from the chair next to me, his gaze seeming to hold the words that silently spoke that's not true, and I instantly knew what he was thinking. In actuality, he had been the one to give me after-school tutoring on that Saturday during the homecoming football game, not I. He had been the one to kiss me first that day. But there was no way in hell I would ever tell that to the dean.

"I don't care whose fault it is; all that matters is that it happened," Dr. Kim frowned. "And it's still happening if I'm not mistaken, correct?"

"I... um," my eyes flickered to Yoongi, every fiber of my being starting to fill with panic. Shit, we should've discussed this beforehand. I wasn't going to willingly rat Yoongi out, no matter how many times he's said he didn't care anymore if people knew about us.

Suddenly I felt the warm, soft sensation of skin wrapping around the curvature of my hand that was resting atop the wooden armrest. "Yes, it's still happening," Yoongi spoke, and then his fingers were intertwining with mine.

I practically choked on my own spit at his words; did this boy have a death wish? A cough came sputtering out of my lungs, the sound causing everyone in the room to look at me until I'd settled down. Even Professor Lee leaned forward from her seat on the other side of Yoongi, bewilderment written all over her expression as she gave me a look of disgust.

"Well there's your proof right there." She threw her hands up in defeat before gesturing to the two of us. "What more do you need? Expel them, Dr. Kim."

"B–but that's not it!" I suddenly exclaimed and lurched forward, feeling the heat of everyone's stare on our embraced hands, which in turn only made me grip him even harder for support. "Dr. Kim, you have to believe me when I tell you that Professor Lee has worked hard to make my life a living hell ever since I got to this school. She had a vendetta against me; she's in love with Yoongi, and so she–"

"That's not true!" Professor Lee screeched.

"She worked to turn people against us rather than coming to you because she wanted to blackmail Yoongi into being with her," I ignored her interjection and continued. "She even made a seminar about it—the mandatory seminar that everyone attended today!"

The dean turned his attention towards her. "The seminar about the importance of practicing safe sex?" He questioned in bewilderment.

My eyes practically bulged out of my head at his words; that's what she was telling everyone it was about?

"It was!" She scrambled in defense. "I mean I... I may have brought up Yoongi and Y/N as an example, but that's only because they fit the part! Y/N had a pregnancy scare not too long ago, and I didn't want the same thing to happen to our students!"

I felt the color draining from my face, blanching it a stone cold white and decimating any feeling I had left in my body.

How the fuck did she know about the pregnancy?

My head instantly whipped towards Yoongi to see if he had any logical explanation for this, and his face was as poised and stoic as ever in front of his two colleagues—but I could see through it. I knew him well enough to catch onto the slightest falter in his blinking, the increase in heat that collected between our palms, the small twitch of his mouth that would've gone unnoticed by anyone else who observed him. I knew there was no way he could've told Professor Lee about the pregnancy, because he was just as blindsided as I was.

Dr. Kim simply raised his eyebrows in interest before turning back to Yoongi and me.

"Dr. Kim," Yoongi spoke, his voice dripping with amusement, "I mean no disrespect, but do you honestly think that if Y/N had a pregnancy scare, we would tell Sara about it? Come on; not after all she did to us."

"They—they didn't tell me!" Professor Lee huffed out a desperate breath. "I overheard them while I was–"

"While you were what?" I interrupted with a raise of my eyebrow. "While you were spying on us to find any blackmail you could use on Yoongi?"

"N–no!" She stuttered, though at this point it was obvious that she was making up lies on the spot. "While I was walking past the classroom!"

"Why would we be talking about that with the door open?!"

"Enough!" Dr. Kim barked, his deep voice rumbling throughout the small office. We all grew silent as we turned our attention to him. "There will be no arguing of he said/she said in my office," he scolded, then turned his attention to Yoongi before speaking. "I understand that there was someone you wanted me to see?"

Yoongi, who had remained calm during all of this, simply nodded his head before releasing my hand. "Yes, sir," he said as he stood up and walked towards the door.

My eyebrows were knitted in confusion as I watched it all transpire: the words exchanged between the two men, Yoongi rising out of his seat, the sight of my biology professor being revealed behind the closed door. The whole thing came as a surprise to me, and my emotions seemed to be having a war between the shock and relief that I felt raging like a storm in the pit of my stomach.

Why didn't Yoongi tell me about Professor Park being involved in this discussion? When did he have time to ask her to come? Did it even matter at this point?

"Professor Park," Dr. Kim widened his eyes, his frame physically reclining back in his seat. "I'm surprised to see you here."

"As am I to be here," she smiled though her voice was venomous, eyes flashing to a very alarmed Professor Lee.

"Mia?!" The woman barked in disbelief at her friend's entrance. "What are you doing here?"

"Something I should've done a long time ago," Professor Park replied, and with that she turned towards the dean and opened her mouth to speak.

"I'm here to testify on the behalf of Min Yoongi and Y/N."

Earth-shattering elation rippled through me from the inside out, starting at the base of my toes and spiraling to the top of my head and the tips of my fingers, causing them to tingle and buzz with a newfound sense of hope. We might actually have a chance!

"What?!" Professor Lee's voice ripped through the air in a deafening screech. "This isn't a court case! You don't get to play witness!"

"Actually, if Professor Park has witnessed anything, I would definitely like to know," Dr. Kim chimed in, raising an eyebrow towards my biology professor.

Professor Park nodded her head towards him in appreciation before speaking. "A few months ago Sara approached me in my classroom to tell me about the nasty rumors that were surrounding her and a student. She singled the student out, saying to purposely damage their grades because they were treating her unfairly and disrespecting her rules and authority as a professor; she even went so far as to say that they were sending her death threats"

"What?!" The word ripped from my throat faster than I could blink as I stared jaw-dropped at the women in the room.

"That's not true!" Professor Lee instantly protested as expected. "Sir, I can assure you that I never–"

"I have the text messages if you want," Professor Park offered in a tone so nonchalant one would've thought she was conversing about the weather.

Dr. Kim raised an eyebrow. "Text messages? I thought you said she came by your class?"

"She did, sir." Mia interlaced her fingers in front of her and bowed her head politely. "We spoke about it on multiple occasions. I asked why she wouldn't just go to you, or even the authorities if the student was making death threats, but Sara was adamant. She didn't want any scandals revolving around her so that she could maintain the level of professionalism that she had developed here."

I heard a snort coming from next to me, and it was with a swollen heart of pride that I realized the sound came from Yoongi trying to hold in a laugh.

Professionalism? Her? I had never heard anything so far fetched in my life.

Sara simply glared as Mia ignored him and continued. "She assured me that the best way to deal with this pesky student was to slowly start to fail them, and I'll admit, I was angry for her. Sara was my friend, and I respected her enough to believe what she was telling me and follow her requests." She turned her head to where I sat on the other side of Yoongi. "That student was you, Y/N. And I just wanted to say that I am so sorry for the way I handled things. You were treated unfairly and poorly due to false information."

"It wasn't false!" Professor Lee jumped in to defend herself, but everyone was pretty much ignoring her. Even the dean could tell she was playing the part of the boy who cried wolf at this point.

"I'd like to see those text messages, if you don't mind." Dr. Kim reached his hand out expectantly.

There was a brief moment of silence while Professor Park nodded and tapped away on her phone before handing it to him. His cold and calculated eyes scanned the screen while saying nothing, all three of us waiting with bated breath for him to come to a decision in his mind.

There was no where left for her to run. With these text messages, all the constant denying that Professor Lee has done will be proven false and she will be exposed for all the hell she's put me through this semester. My heart was practically bursting at the thought.

"Well I would've appreciated it if you ladies had come to me with this information instead of handling it amongst yourselves, true or not," Dr. Kim finally sighed before giving Sara his full attention. "Ms. Lee, you have three people accusing you. Even if you didn't do it, there's obviously something that's turning them against you. And here at this university we strive to hold cooperation and communication above all else. If you don't get along with the fellow staff here, then why should I believe that they're the problem and not you?"

"Um, because Min Yoongi is fucking his student?!" Professor Lee was fuming now, her upper body lurching forward in her seat and her hands gripping the arm rests for dear life. "He literally just admitted to it!"

"Language, Ms. Lee," Dr. Kim scolded calmly. "I still like to maintain a professional attitude here in my office."

"I apologize sir, but that's beside the point." She was sitting back in her seat now, though her tone was no less frantic. "Min Yoongi is in a relationship with his student, and staff cooperation or not, I don't really think that's in the teacher handbook." She raised a snarky eyebrow at us as if believing that she had finally won.

I knitted my eyebrows, my palms feeling slick with a nervous sweat against Yoongi's as I realized the bigger problem here. It wasn't whatever lies and schemes Professor Lee had cooked up with my biology teacher; it wasn't even Professor Lee herself. It was the fact that Yoongi and I were in a relationship, and that was going to have enough consequences alone to shake me to my very core with fear.

"She's right," Dr. Kim uttered the words that I was silently hoping he wouldn't say, my grip tightening on Yoongi as I anticipated whatever outcome he's decided. Our fate was in his hands.

"Of course I am." Professor Lee crossed her arms and sat back in her seat with a smug grin.

"I'm afraid I have no choice." He was shaking his head, frowning at us apologetically though the sentiment didn't reach his eyes. "Mr. Min, I am sorry to inform you that you will have to be forced to resign from our university."

The color instantly drained from my face, and with it pulling all five senses that I have into the depths of the earth until I couldn't see, couldn't hear, couldn't speak—I could barely even breathe. There was a lump that was forming in my throat and settling deep within my gut, all of this feeling fake, too fake to be real.

Yoongi was fired, and it was all because of me.

"I understand, sir."

It was Yoongi's words that were pulling me from my fog of disbelief and devastation, my eyes blinking in an effort to snap back to reality as I looked from him to the dean. "No. No, there has to be something we can do, please!" I begged, my voice starting to get frantic the more the severity of the situation hit me. "I–I'll drop out! You don't have to worry about me ever coming near here again, just please, please don't fire him!"

"Y/N..." Yoongi's voice was quiet and full of resignation, defeat, but I wasn't giving up.

"Yoongi is an amazing professor who has worked here for, what, two years? He's extraordinary at what he does and students love him. It's not easy to find a professor like that everyday." I was staring into the eyes of the dean now, trying to move him with my words. "You shouldn't throw away someone as great as him just because of some stupid 18 year old's mistake! Please, Dr Kim." I leaned forward in my seat, the room silent as I spoke. "He wouldn't be in this situation if it weren't for me. Please, let me suffer the consequences, not him."

I continued to stare in Dr. Kim's eyes, silently channeling my emotions through the pleading expression in my eyes, and it wasn't until I felt a comforting hand on my back that I was instantly drawn away into a more calm state in my chair. I gazed over at the owner of the hand, and he flashed back that smile I loved except it was sad, and it didn't reach his eyes, and I could tell there was so much he wanted to say to me right now if we weren't in the confinement of his boss' office.

"I understand your efforts, Y/N, but there's nothing I can do." Dr. Kim shook his head, and it was as if the world around me was shattering into blades of glass, scraping at my skin and leaving bloody wounds that I knew would never heal. "Mr. Min was involved in this relationship as well, and no matter whose fault it is, the professor needs to be held accountable. There is a level of professionalism and maturity that he must possess in order to work here; he's your superior, a respectable authority figure, and so he should've known better."

It was all I could do to keep from crying as I lowered my eyes and shook my head, every inch of my heart breaking for Yoongi until all that was left were tiny fragments to scatter in the wind. I couldn't believe I'd done this to him. The very thing he'd been worried about from the start—I had ruined his career.

"It is our goal as a university to see our students succeed," he continued, though I could barely hear a thing. "As for you, Y/N, I see no reason as to why you shouldn't keep attending this university."

I blinked a few times, confused. "You want me to... what?"

"You will have a suspension on your student records, mind you, and one more of those will lead to expulsion," he explained. "Though that doesn't mean that you can't keep going to school here. You will have to meet with an advisor every two weeks, though, who will be keeping a close watch on your behavior."

I could barely even believe my ears; had my hearing been completely lost due to the shock of the situation? "That's totally a double standard!" I gestured to Yoongi in disbelief.

"Y/N, it's okay..." Yoongi tried to calm me down.

"No, it's not okay!" I roared, eyes wide and brows furrowed in disbelief as I glanced at him before turning back to the dean. "Where do you think you can get off by treating people like this? This is his career—his life!"

"That will be enough from you, Ms. Y/N," Dr. Kim bellowed in a stern voice as he frowned. "I'm doing you a favor here by letting you continue your education. Speak out against me one more time and I will be revoking that offer."

His words were deafening throughout the office; it was suddenly understandable why he was so feared by those who worked under him. Yoongi started to run his hand along my spine in a soothing manner, and though it helped relax my fiery nerves and clear my foggy mind, I was still just as upset—if not more, now that the information was beginning to settle in.

"So that's it then?" Professor Lee spoke for the first time in a while, her lips pressed into a firm line, obviously disappointed by the turn of events though she didn't dare to speak out against Dr. Kim as he had warned. "Yoongi gets fired and Y/N gets a free ride?"

"Not so fast, Ms. Lee." The dean turned to her. "What you did was beyond unprofessional. You violated several school policies as well as bullied a student! Do you think that type of behavior is acceptable as a professor?"

Professor Lee opened her mouth as if to protest before slowly shutting it again, realizing that she had nothing left that she hadn't already denied. It was obvious that the evidence given to him by Professor Park, who stood silent in the corner of the room, was incriminating enough to sway his decision.

"I'm sorry to have to inform you that you will be fired as well."

"What?!" Her shrill voice screeched through the air, tearing whatever I had left of my eardrums and rendering me deaf here in this office. "What I did was no where near as bad as Yoongi and Y/N!"

"If anything, it was worse." Dr. Kim folded his hands over his desk. "Let's not forget that you managed to involve the entire student body in a false seminar that maliciously exposed one of our students and professors," he raised an eyebrow at her, "and that was just today."

"Yeah, not to mention all the other shit you did behind my back to make my life a living hell," I couldn't help from interjecting in a heated tone, though I backed off upon seeing the dean's stern gaze.

He redirected his attention back to Sara. "Here at this university, we strive to have a professional relationship, safe environment, and healthy lifestyle for our students. Neither of you achieved those three goals, so both of you will have to be let go."

Yoongi's expression simply remained placid and free of any emotion while Professor Lee's reaction was practically visceral, though neither spoke a word as heavy silence fell over the small office.

"Am I... am I still needed, sir?" It was Professor Park whose voice broke through the tension, everyone having forgotten she was there in the midst of the emotion-filled chaos. "Because if not, then I'm going to go."

"No, I'm just about finished here." Dr. Kim let out a sigh, as if what just transpired had been hard on him out of all people in the room. My blood boiled just looking at him, though I know I had to learn when to speak out and when to bite my tongue as Yoongi had taught me.

"Dr. Kim, is there any way you can reconsi–"

"That will be enough from you, Ms. Lee," his booming voice interrupted the frantic professor. "I've said all that I need to say on the matter. I'm not changing my mind."

"Dr. Kim?" I spoke up just as Professor Lee and Professor Park were getting ready to walk out the door. "I–I have something else to tell you. Un-related to this," I threw in when I saw him throw a glance in Lee's direction.

The man sighed before waving them out, leaving his office empty of visitors other than me and Yoongi in the chairs. I wasn't going to let that boy go anywhere.

"Y/N, I'm sorry that the outcome isn't exactly what you wanted but I'm afraid there's nothing I can–"

"Choi Junwoo tried to rape me," I blurted out.

There was a moment's pause as the dean was stunned silent with wide eyes, and out of my peripheral vision I could see Yoongi tense up and inhale sharply next to me.

"W–what–"

"Choi Junwoo," I spoke slowly for him so that he'd understand, "a student here at this university, tried to rape me at a frat party."

I couldn't leave the office without saying it. I couldn't leave the office without telling him. This wasn't just about me or the turmoil or trauma he caused; this was for every other girl in the future who might be a victim of Jun. Though in my heart I truthfully believed he was a good person, and that he really was just intoxicated beyond belief that night, it was still no excuse. If he had rape-tendencies while he was drunk and I didn't speak out about it, then I would be no better when it came to helping other sexual assault victims.

"Are you sure–"

"I found them at the party while he was mid-act," Yoongi jumped in, probably figuring he was already fired so there was nothing left for him to lose when it came to revealing details about our relationship outside of school. "It was... disgusting. I got her out of there immediately, but not before punching that bastard in the face."

"Metaphorically, of course!" I couldn't help but chime in, not wanting an assault charge to be on his record as well.

Thankfully Dr. Kim simply brushed off that minuet detail in favor for the more important issue at hand. "Y/N, what you're telling me will ruin this student's future. Are you absolutely sure you want to file this?"

Despite the anger that swelled up inside of me from him questioning my accusation, I still couldn't help the little trickle of doubt that crept in as I considered his words. At one point, Jun had been a friend... maybe even a potential lover had Yoongi not been in the picture. Dr. Kim was right, this information could potentially ruin his reputation, his education, his record... was I ready to carry the weight of knowledge that I've ruined someone's life forever?

"What are you talking about? Of course!" Yoongi spat an answer before I even had a chance to finish my thoughts. "She told you what happened, didn't she? Why would she speak out about something like this if she was making it up?"

"Maybe a personal vendetta?" The dean shrugged his shoulders. "People will do crazy things for revenge."

Now that got me heated. "The only one who wanted revenge here was Junwoo!" I stood up from my seat to yell. "He liked me and was mad that I turned him down. As if I owed my feelings to him or something! And when I told him no, he forced himself on me?! Is that really the type of message you want to send at this college? You know, since you're so high and mighty on "cooperation"," I did air quotes of sarcasm around my last words, my ears practically steaming with boiling rage.

"We will come out about this story, by the way," Yoongi added in, his voice full of venom. "And how will that look if you tried to keep us silent?"

"You can forget about me attending this university," I hissed.

"Alright, alright, settle down, the both of you," Dr. Kim lowered his hands in a calming manner. "I was not suggesting I buy your silence or anything of that nature. I was simply making sure you wanted to go through with this."

"Yes," Yoongi and I both answered in unison.

The dean nodded his head before clasping his hands together. "Alright."

The rest of the time in the office with spent filling on paperwork on a claim against Junwoo. I'd been given the option to be kept in the loop or even present when everything went down, though I politely declined. I wanted nothing more to do with that boy.

Though it would seem Professor Lee didn't share the same sentiment when it came to me, because as soon as soon as the two of us walked hand in hand into the hallway and Dr. Kim's door was securely shut, she sprung into action.

"You bitch!" She shrieked, not wasting another second as she leaped through the air and onto my body like a crouched tiger that was waiting for the right moment to attack. I felt the pressure of her weight against my chest and the sting of her nails scraping against my cheek, and before I knew it I was stumbling down, down onto the ground with another vicious blow to my jaw that was accompanied by her fist.

It all happened within a matter of seconds, but it wasn't long until I heard Yoongi yell Sara! and then her weight vanished just as quickly as it had appeared.

All I could do was stare with wide eyes as Yoongi slammed her shoulders back against the wall, though it was the look in his eyes that caught my attention. I had seen that expression before.

He was about to throw a punch.

"Yoongi, stop!" I cried, summoning all the strength I possessed to push myself to my feet and stumble over to the pair.

Yoongi whipped his head towards me with exasperated, almost wild eyes and his brows knitted in confusion and disbelief. "Y/N, she attacked you!"

"She isn't worth it," I spoke firmly in an attempt to get through to him. "Yoongi, just let it go. She isn't worth the trouble anymore."

It was when I placed a soothing hand against his back that Yoongi finally sighed, his stance visibly relaxing and his hands dropping from Professor Lee's shoulders. "She's right," he spit in a low, venomous tone as he turned back to her and grit his teeth. "Thanks to Dr. Kim, you already got what you deserve."

"Yoongi," there were sudden sobs that were tearing through the hallway, and it took me a moment to realize that Professor Lee was now... crying.

"Yoongi," she continued as she clung onto his shoulders. "Yoongi, I loved you!"

Somewhere deep inside of me, past all the burning hatred for what this woman has done to my life out of pure jealousy, I couldn't help but feel a twinge of sympathy for her. This was once me, heartbroken over the effects of unrequited love. Yoongi was a very sought-after man, I'd come to realize, and it wasn't about my feelings or Professor Lee's or anyone else's. It was about his.

"Sara," Yoongi sighed, and there was almost a wince in his tone from how hard he was trying to make her understand. "It's over."

"W–what?" The woman was scrambling now. "It doesn't have to be! We can go back to the way things were–"

"There never was a ‘we’!" He ripped her hands from his shoulders. "We were friends, and then you sabotaged my career and Y/N's education. You never once spoke out about your feelings, came forward, handled things like adults," he stressed the last line. "You never once did any of those things! Instead you belittled another woman and cost yourself your job all for a man—someone who until now, was your friend." Yoongi sighed again and shook his head. "I hope you get the help you need, Sara. I'm sure there is someone out there who will love you unconditionally... but that person is not me."

And with that, he put a gentle hand on my back and we walked away.

“Oh my god.”

Those were the first words out of my mouth the second we exited the building, my hands resting on my head in disbelief as I turned to Yoongi. “Holy shit, Yoongi–“

“Shhh,” he instantly consoled me, his arms engulfing me in a comforting hug and my face tucking underneath his chin as he held me close. “We did it, Y/N. It’s all over.”

I stayed in his embrace for a few moments as his words sunk in. It was all over. No more secrets, no more Professor Lee—no more anything.

“B–but your job...” I pulled away to look up at him with a shaky tone, my brows furrowed in concern. “Dr. Kim fired you, he–“

“I resigned, Y/N. There’s a difference.”

“Is there?” I couldn’t help but look up at him with a hopeless expression.

Yoongi simply nodded his head, the picture of nonchalance as if his career hadn’t just changed forever. “Yes. If I had gotten fired, it would look terrible on my resumé should I apply for another teaching position. However, given the circumstances of our arrangement...” he paused, no doubt thinking of Professor Lee, “I suppose he decided to take it easy on us all.”

My shoulders deflated in relief. “Well thank god for that...” I sighed, not even wanting to think of what could’ve happened if Dr. Kim had given us the harshest punishment. In an ironic, twisted way, I suppose I have Professor Lee to thank for that. If she wouldn’t have made my life a living hell, it would’ve been that much worse if Dr. Kim ever found out on his own.

“But none of that even matters to me right now,” Yoongi suddenly snapped, and then in the time it took me to raise an questioning eyebrow he had already grabbed both sides of my face and rammed his lips into mine, the same as he did before we went inside to confront Professor Lee.

Only this time, the kiss was different. It didn’t hold promises and potential; it held freedom. It held the success of finally getting through everything by the skin of our teeth, the relief and the pride and the pure love that we have for each other after overcoming everything that we’ve been through together. I kissed him and I didn’t care who saw—because he wasn’t my professor anymore. There were no invisible chains that bounded us apart. It was just me and him sticking together against all odds. Never in my life did I think I would ever be a part of a relationship so committed, so passionate, so determined. He and I would never stop fighting for each other.

“I love you, Min Yoongi,” I murmured against his mouth with a grin on my features that was hard to disguise—especially when I felt the corners of his lips pull up into that gummy smile that I adored with all of my heart.

“God, I love you too, Y/N,” he replied back with a content sigh, and then he continued to kiss me on the busy campus sidewalk until we were both breathless and blue in the face.

Because we now had nothing to lose.

Despite finally being released from the clutches that school had on us, the days following the meeting with Dr. Kim were not easy.

Other than having to put on a fake smile and continue attending a university where practically everyone knew about my relationship with now-former Professor Min (my mother would never let me drop out—not that I could ever tell her the reason I'd want to, anyways), there were the stresses that Yoongi was dealing with of now being unemployed. And what with all but abandoning my dorm room to instead spend my nights with him at his apartment, it was impossible to not feel the weight of his problems on my shoulders as well. No matter how many times Yoongi tried to put up a façade and reassure me that he was okay, I couldn't help but feel like this was my fault.

"If I just never would've made you dance with me at that club..." I'd say at times, unable to keep from tracing back each and every one of our interactions and blaming myself.

"Cut that out," Yoongi would snap.

"What? It's true!"

"You know I don't like it when you talk like that!" He'd turn to me with a stern tone. "I don't regret anything that happened between us, okay? Not one single bit." There was a heavy silence as his words would hang in the air. "If you wouldn't have asked me to dance, then who knows if I ever would've worked up the courage to kiss you? And I wouldn't be here, sharing this bed with the love of my life."

"Aw, Yoongi..."

And the two of us would make love, again and again until we'd have a similar argument some time later and repeat the whole process all over again. I'd feel guilty, Yoongi would remind me of exactly how much he doesn't regret meeting me, and we'd get lost in each other's embrace.

That is, until a simple Sunday morning suddenly changed everything.

"I got it."

I casually peered over at the sound of him from my spot in the living room, sitting criss crossed on the couch in my pajamas with a laptop in my lap. "What?"

"The job." Yoongi's voice was low, serious as he stared at the paper in his hands that had previously been so carelessly disregarded on the kitchen island along with the Sunday paper. "At the university in Seoul."

"Wait." He had all of my attention now as I sat the laptop on the coffee table and rose to my feet. "Like the Seoul National University university?"

"Yeah," he let out a single chuckle of disbelief before he pressed the paper against the counter and turned to me. "I got the job."

"Oh my god, Yoongi!" I exclaimed with my own chuckle of disbelief before running forward and wrapping my arms around his neck. His arms immediately engulfed my waist and lifted me off the ground as we spun around in place, my lips instantly finding his in a searing kiss that was full of passion and excitement to match our current mood. "That's amazing!"

"I know," he replied as he placed me down. A tentative smile was frozen on his lips as he stared off into the distance before letting out another sound of disbelief, his head shaking before his palm slid down his face. "I can't believe it!"

"I'm so proud of you!" I mirrored the grin of pure elation on his features, my chest swelling with joy and relief and most of all, pride.

I was so, so proud of Yoongi. I knew how much his job meant to him, and the feeling of guilt that weighed down on me from knowing that I was the one who inadvertently took that away from him, that I was the one who inadvertently caused all this stress of job hunting was instantly lifted off my shoulders. I knew how much he wanted this. I knew how hard he had worked to get this job at such a prestigious school, and god damn it, I knew how much he deserved it. If Yoongi was anything, apart from being an amazing person and a wonderful lover, he was great at his job. He was a natural born teacher.

Though no matter how many times I've willingly showered him with endless compliments about his work, he'd blush sheepishly and simply swat away all of my words with a simple kiss, or an "if you don't shut up your food is going to get cold. We're unemployed now; we need all the nutrition we can get. Haven't you ever heard of the Great Depression?"

So instead, I just chose to beam at him while he basked in the euphoria of the moment that this job acceptance brought on. After all, I knew he was well aware of how proud of him I was and how supportive I'd always be when it came to anything he wanted to accomplish.

Though the bliss was short lived.

I watched as Yoongi's expression slowly fell, the smile on his face slipping into a deep frown and his eyes turning to stone. "No."

"What?" I furrowed my brows, concern filling me and etching onto my features as I cupped his cheek in my hand, trying to figure out why his mood had changed so suddenly. "What's wrong?"

"I'm not taking it." His tone was cold, definitive, as if the subject wasn't even up for debate as he grabbed the letter.

"Wait wait wait," I hurried to stop him from tearing it in half. "What are you talking about? Why not?"

He turned to look at me with cold, incredulous eyes, as if he couldn't believe I was even asking a question so stupid. "The university is in Seoul, Y/N."

"Okay...?" I shook my head in confusion, still not understanding what the issue was. "And?"

"I'd have to move." He was taking the paper back out of my hands and ripping it right down the middle before I got the chance to stop him.

I suddenly deflated, the severity of his words dropping in my stomach and wrapping around the anchor of my heart, sending it down, down, down through the floor of his apartment and hurdling towards the center of the earth.

"...What?"

"I'd have to move away from you."

And there is was, the bomb detonating an explosion and demolishing whatever was left of my heart.

"No... t–there has to be another way, there has to–"

"Seoul is hours away from here, Y/N," Yoongi barked out, his tone angry and harsh as it always was when he was upset. "It's on the other side of the country; there's no way I'd be able to commute without living there."

"Okay, so why did you apply then?" I couldn't help but snap back defensively. "You knew the distance to Seoul prior to applying for the job. Why even bother if you're just going to get pissed about not taking it?!"

"Because I didn't think I'd get accepted!" His voice was loud, almost yelling now. "It's the most sought after, prestigious school in the fucking country and I didn't think some young idiot who got fired from his last job would be able to get in!"

It was silent as his words settled over the atmosphere, clinging to the air that filled the room around us and encasing my lungs until it was impossible to breathe.

"What the fuck are you talking about?" I finally hissed. "You're a great teacher, and you know it. If anyone's a young idiot here, it's me!"

Yoongi scoffed with a shake of his head. "I'm the one who kissed you again during that tutoring session after telling you to stay away. I'm the one who fucked you against that desk." His tone was low now, and his eyes seemed to grow harder in realization with each step that he took towards me. "I'm the one who asked to take you out on that fucking date and I'm the one who pulled you onto my lap when Sara caught us in my classroom! God damn it, I'm the one who tracked you down at a fucking frat party and punched one of my students!"

His voice slowly raised until he was yelling again, and if it weren’t for the fact that he was now standing chest to chest and cornering me up against the countertop of the island, I would've winced at the loud volume so close to my ears.

"Stop blaming yourself, Y/N, when I'm the one who was the authority figure. I'm the one who should've had my shit together, but I just couldn't around you!"

I felt myself soften at that. As angry and intimidating as he seemed right now, surely frightening whoever would come into contact with him when he was like this, I knew that it was all a front. Yoongi wasn't the best at dealing with emotional situations—he'd all but bite my head off any time I even tried to mention his father—and sometimes lashed out in anger when he was upset or hurting inside. I knew how badly he wanted this job; I could see it in his eyes, hear it in his voice when he'd first submitted the application. And now, when the career position of his dreams was finally right under his nose, he couldn't have it. Because I was holding him back.

"You have to take it." My voice was solemn and steady as I stared him in the eyes.

He instantly frowned. "What? No, I–"

"Yoongi."

He fell silent, all signs of anger and malice wiped from his features once he saw just how serious I was being. A soft, bittersweet smile that had nothing to do with happiness slowly tugged at my lips as my eyes gleamed with pain. My heart was breaking with every word I was speaking, but I knew it was something I needed to do.

"You have to take the job."

The silence that ensued my words only further proved my point, simultaneously stabbing a knife into my chest with each passing second. He knew I was right. He knew it. He just didn't want to hear it.

"You don't..." He sounded smaller, more pitiful and confused as he tried to make sense of what I was saying. "You don't want me to stay?"

The hurt, the sadness, the utter hopelessness in his voice absolutely crushed me. I couldn't help but fall into his embrace, wrapping my arms around his chest and squeezing tightly as if I could somehow hold the pieces of him together that I knew were breaking. The severity of what was happening, of what I was doing started to settle within me the moment I heard his voice break.

"I do, baby," I replied, the sound muffled by the skin of his neck that my face was buried in as a sob threatened to claw its way out of my throat and swallow me whole. "God, you know I do. But you can't."

"Y–you can come with me." He was shaking his head now, his hands gripping at the shirt on my back with closed fists while he desperately tried to hold onto me, as if I would disappear beneath him at any moment. "We can move together to Seoul and you can–"

"You know I can't, Yoongi." It was my turn to shake my head, and with it came a heavy tear that fell down my cheek. "I have to go to school. I have a family who's helping pay for my tuition, and my mom— you know it's not all up to me."

I heard him sniffle as he pulled away, and even though I felt no evidence of tears from him against my skin or my shirt, his eyes were bright red when he stared back at me.

"I'm not leaving you, Y/N."

The sheer determination in his voice had me shattering like broken glass. "I'm not letting you do this, Yoongi. I'm not letting you waste this opportunity. Do you know how many people are waiting to work at Seoul University? How many professors would kill to be in your position?" I kept my gaze steadily on his as I slowly shook my head. "I care about you... so fucking much. I've never loved someone so much before... not like this." I paused, asking myself one last time if this was really the decision I wanted to make as my words settled in. I took in the sight of his beautiful, breathtaking features silently begging me not to do this. "I'm putting you above my selfishness," I finally decided with another shake of my head. "You need to do this Yoongi, for you. You know you do."

Yoongi slowly shook his head, though the expression on his face told me he knew I was right. "I don't want to lose you," he spoke as a tear spilled over the brim of his eye, dampening his lashes and leaving a wet streak in its wake as it rolled down his cheek, and the sight was the final breaking point that had me bursting into tears.

"Neither do I."

His fingers dug into my skin as he tightened his grip on my body, his forehead leaning against mine as the only sounds exchanged between the two of us were the unspoken words of labored breaths and soft sobs.

Sometimes when you love someone, you have to do what's best for them.

And I knew this was what's best for Yoongi.

#yoongi fanfic #yoongi x reader #yoongi smut #bts fanfic #bts smut #lmao why am i so impulsive #i decided i was gonna post this all of ten minutes ago and here we are #anyways this will help my peace of mind to know that at least SOMETHING is out there #some sort of closure to the series #not everything i had planned but #it'll do for now #i hope u guys can forgive me for whatever tf this is fjshgdkfd

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iscribble · 4 years ago

Text

pairing | lee donghyuck x reader genre(s) | fluff, suggestive, established relationship, a little friends to lovers (because that’s how it all started) word count | 4.2k summary | though subtle and often overlooked, lee donghyuck implicitly promises you that the little things he says (and the little things he does) are never void of love.

or,

you are his addiction and loving you might be, scratch that, is his newest. author’s note | i really wanted to work on this more but i have one final exam left and so i had no choice but to rush this. (also, im starting to think that i made this fic as an excuse to write all kinds of scenarios for haechan. like literally, it’s just so many things in one really short fic. i apologise.)

a reward for the victorious.

“You’re going down Mark Lee!”

Lee Donghyuck is ecstatic.

A knowing smile eases into your lips, the reason being the very boy who sits slanted in his desk chair, eyes trained on the same video game he’s been playing for days. You can hear the cavils that spew out of his red headset, but you can only see the rumpled strands of his ash brown hair (your boyfriend musses them too much when he gets frustrated). You hear the generous smile in his voice slowly turning into a deep, hearty cackle as he nears his victory. Lee Donghyuck can sit there laughing his head off at the most trivial things but he’ll still make you the happiest person on earth. You sigh at the thought.

Donghyuck abruptly stands the same time you hear Mark’s defeated screech. His hands are in the air, balled into fists as he stares at his screen for a little more to drink in the big letters that indicate his win. You can’t see it but you know there’s a magnified grin on his face. A silent chuckle falls from your lips as he disregards his headset on his shoulders. He turns around to meet your form, blanket pulled up to your waist and a pillow cushioning your back. He brings the microphone to his lips, letting Mark know he’s done for the day.

It’s only 10 p.m., he never finishes this early.

“Are you that sleepy?” You ask as he pulls you closer to him, legs tangled in yours and his arms around your waist. You stay upright against the headboard but you let him snuggle you, his brown locks tickling the exposed skin of your stomach.

“No,” he replies, looking up at you. “I just miss you a lot.”

“We’ve been together the whole day, Hyuck.”

“I know,” he tugs himself up and shifts behind you so you’d lay on his chest. “You’re just rarely awake whenever I win and this time you are, figured I would reward myself.”

“That’s because you take so long to win against Chenle,” you huff, pretending to be upset about it. “You’re lucky it’s Mark you’re against today.”

Donghyuck’s cheeks flush at your remark but his hold on you only fastens. “That’s not true!” He whines into your shoulder.

You turn around to face him, fingers immediately reaching around his nape to play with his hair. “Well then,” you tilt your head. “Here’s your reward.” You kiss him sleepily, but enough to make his heart race. Donghyuck leans forward and deepens the kiss until you’re laying on the soft covers and he’s hovering over you.

“You make me so happy,” he smiles, inches away from you.

“More than winning against the boys?” You raise an eyebrow.

“Shut up,” he playfully slaps your side. You poke your tongue out and he melts at the sight. “But yeah, more than winning against the boys.”

troubling nights.

“What’s wrong?” Your touch flutters above his wrist, careful not to startle him. The room is unlit, but you can make out the apprehensive look on his face and the vulnerability in his gaze. He zeroes in on the shadows that hang above your figures, eyes remain restless as they wander around the colourless expanse.

Donghyuck doesn’t reply much, breathing out a subdued whisper of your name. Your ears perk up at the fragility in his voice and you prop yourself up on one elbow beside him. He still doesn’t look at you but you let him be.

“I’m right here,” you like to pinch the glowing apples of his cheeks whenever he smiles, but this time they’re unfortunately level as he knits his brows. Though, when his eyes find yours, the creases across his forehead slacken.

“I don’t wanna lose you.” It seems as though it’s obvious with the way he treats you whenever you’re around, but Donghyuck never thinks it is. There are times when you notice he’s deep in thought, and you wonder if this is what’s on his mind every time you catch him absentmindedly biting his nails or when he looks like he’s ambling through his thoughts even when he’s just lolling on the sofa.

“What makes you think you’re gonna lose me?”

“I just,” he heaves a breathy sigh. Your eyes never leave his. “What if one day I wake up and you’re not next to me? What if.. what if you leave me for someone else? Someone way better than me?”

“I’ve never heard such nonsense from you.” You lay beside him with a dramatic plop. A smile graces your features like you haven’t just talked about the thought that’s been bothering him all night.

“Why are you smiling?” He notes your expression, yet a smile is slowly creeping across his face too.

“I just know that’s never gonna happen,” you tell him as your fingers tighten around his slender ones. “So I’m able to smile like this.”

Donghyuck traces the curve of your lips with his free hand. You turn to face him at the gesture, the solemn lineaments you hate to see now erased, like it’s never been there in the first place.

“You’re pretty when you smile.” Your boyfriend mutters, returning his gaze to your eyes.

“When I don’t?”

He pretends to think, head propped on his hand. “You still do, but you look like you’re gonna punch me or something.”

Before you can react to his words, he slips the hand that you’re holding out of your snug fingers and crosses both of his arms in front of him as though he’s shielding himself from you. You recognise the defensive pose—you’re so used to throwing pillows at him.

“Lee Donghyuck!” Incredulity crosses your face. “Honestly though, that’s what Renjun said to me the other day.” You would’ve gone with the habitual way of “taming” him if it wasn’t for Donghyuck’s quick reflex as he yanks the pillow in your deathly grip out of your hands.

“Only I’m allowed to say that about you!”

Donghyuck forgets about the particular reason he can’t sleep when you magically replace his thoughts with a charm of your own, a magnetism only you have that brings him falling harder for you. He figures he doesn’t have to worry when all he sees is reassurance in your smile that always seems to grow for him.

fogged minds and hooded eyes.

“Baby,” the lazy ring to his voice has you looking up from your phone, your eyes connected to Donghyuck’s sensual attention.

You return to the small screen in front of you, trying to dismiss whatever conjecture you have from the sight of his darkened eyes, even when his cold feet manage to rub lightly against your toes from the opposite side of the couch. “What’s up, baby,” you croon, ignoring Donghyuck’s restive eyes.

“Come here,” he sings, his desire for you growing but even then he remains in his position. When you only smile in return, he whines. “Baby come here.”

You observe him out of the corner of your eye. You don’t see him in this state often, slouched without his phone or anything that links him to his friends or the video game he prizes so dearly. Donghyuck’s only ever been this touchy after winning a game against one of the boys, or, when he’s horny.

You click your tongue, throwing your head back as your try to laugh the situation off.

“Do you know what you do to me?” The tone of his voice lowers.

“No, I don’t,” you hold back a giggle. “What do I do to you baby?” You toss your phone on the coffee table—teasing Donghyuck seems more amusing right now.

Your boyfriend thrusts his tongue into his cheek. He doesn’t believe you’re teasing him with the biggest half-moon on your face.

He gets up to walk towards where you’re sitting, his eyes tainted with lust. A mischievous grin replaces your previously huge smile as you look up at him from the couch, not wanting to break eye contact. When he lowers himself, knees on either side of you, you can smell the shampoo he’s been using—a fusion of citrus and apples which makes you succumb to his touch almost immediately, if not for the sudden realisation that you’re giving in too quickly.

Strands of his hair hang loose and cover his vision, but he is able to make out small details of your face just fine. You suppress an excited smirk the more he lowers himself towards you. “This,” Donghyuck says, as his body slowly steadies on top of yours, the feeling of his erection now prominent. “Is what you do to me baby.” Before you can say anything he aims for the delicate expanse of your neck, greedy and impatient. You angle your head in a way that grants him easier access to your skin, now littered with unchaste bruises. A fluid sigh escapes your lips as he kisses your jaw, not a single dry spot along the intricate curve. As soon as he’s quenched his thirst for your bare skin, he tugs you up so that you’re now sitting on his lap, fingers playing with the ends of his hair. You push away the strands that cover his eyes, and though it might seem like he’s given up treating his hair from how long it’s become, you don’t plan to cut it any time soon.

You only stare at each other for a few seconds, a mysterious twinkle in his irises and your teasing smile no longer apparent.

“Kiss me baby,” Donghyuck breathes out, the raspiness of his voice and the feeling of his hands moving up and down your sides give you barely any time to think. The space between your lips dwindles to nothing as you comply and kiss him with fervour.

Lee Donghyuck is eager—he does not let you breathe even when he takes your breath away. He holds you like he’s on the verge of losing you, but also as if you’re brittle and may break into pieces. Donghyuck kisses you with hunger, devours you with greed, revels in the taste of you. Your kiss is messy and sinful, but when it’s Donghyuck, there is always an inkling of sweetness.

“You,” he utters as he pulls away, but takes no time in closing the gap once more. “Are,” another amorous kiss. “So,” and another. “Fucking,” and another. “Beautiful.”

Now he is kind enough to let you breathe, because had it been any other night when you’re not idly passing time on the couch, Donghyuck would’ve had absolutely no second thoughts in sparing you any mercy.

“What should we do about this?” You follow his line of vision as it slowly approaches the tenting in his pants. You roll your eyes but a pang of realisation hits you as his grip on your hand tightens with every step he takes toward your shared bedroom.

You could say you spoke too soon. It was brave of you to assume that this night isn’t going to be that kind of night.

lee donghyuck is quite literally drunk in love.

This is the fourth time you’ve seen Donghyuck haul himself up the kitchen island, knocking down several red solo cups and staring at the ooze of pink liquid—one you can only assume as fruit punch—down the chamfered edge of the marble worktop.

You painfully watch the people in his vicinity encourage his pretend concert and join in on his off-key singing. You feel a nudge on your arm, and you turn around to see Jisung with a perky grin plastered on his face.

“So that’s your boyfriend huh?” He retorts jokingly while juggling two cups of fruit punch. He takes a seat beside you.

A chuckle collapses from your lips. You take one cup from his hand. “Think it’s time he tones it down?”

Jisung only shrugs, a look of admiration on his face as he looks at your boyfriend. “He’s living in the moment,” he says after chugging down his drink and sighing in content. “But he probably won’t remember tonight.”

You take that as a reminder of how drunk he is and waste no time in approaching the herd of dancing bodies.

“Hey, hey, you, on the table,” you snap your fingers at him, “come, you’re done.”

“Baby!” He slurs, evidently drunk. “The fun’s only just begun!” Donghyuck bends down to pull you up with him but you are able to reach his arm faster and tug him down. Donghyuck reluctantly groans but does not resist.

The absence of warmth as you step out the house almost compares to the feeling of sticking your whole body inside a freezer. The numbing effect threatens to conquer your senses but the change of scenery makes up for it. Relieved of all the bodies mingling together like you’re inside a pack of gummy bears, you help your boyfriend into the passenger seat of his car because there’s no way he would be driving like this.

You decide that the ride home shouldn’t be this quiet, with only the drone of the engine fending off the chance of a silent ride back. You turn the radio on, switching through channels until you settle on one that currently blasts Amy Winehouse’s Valerie. Adjusting the cold button, you turn the volume up until the reminiscent song counterbalances the sound of his car.

Though, almost immediately, Donghyuck brings his hand up to cover yours as he slowly turns the control to the left until the rough hums of the engine enter your ears again.

You raise an eyebrow, letting him lace your fingers together. “Sure don’t want any music after the quote unquote concert you threw?”

Donghyuck only sighs. A smile blooms on the attractive canvas before you. “You’re pretty.” He looks at you dreamily.

You’re still not used to the little compliments he’d throw no matter how much he says it, no matter how much it sounds like that’s the easiest thing to say.

“You’re drunk.” You roll your eyes and bring a hand up to turn the volume on. “Plus, you say that all the time Hyuck.”

“And I mean it every single time.”

Donghyuck’s eyelids grow heavy and his words become more garbled the more he tries to talk with you. His left hand takes comfort in your right as you drive him back, and once in a while you feel him squeeze, a faint smile apparent on his lips.

Even when he’s drunk, he’s still so in love with you.

jealousy almost gets the better of him.

The air is stiff as the pendant lights in your kitchen go on with a click but you abstain from soothing the swelling tension, instead opting for little refreshment in the fridge. You are, to say the least, drained of all vitality—a wedding reception that goes on for six hours is sure to bereft you of all energy, especially when you spend most of the night dancing, and to Donghyuck’s dismay, rather closely to an old friend, Jeno.

It is not to your surprise that he broaches the subject once it is only the two of you, though you really are scarce of any strength to argue.

“He looked more like your boyfriend than me.” Donghyuck advances, tone a little harsh.

You push your hair back and keep your hand on your brow as it creases, partly from enervation but mostly from annoyance.

“Hyuck,” you set the small carton of banana milk on the countertop. When your eyes trail to Donghyuck, he’s already looking at you from across the table, his usual sunny profile out of sight. His blazer is set aside on the couch, donning only a tight button up with the sleeves rolled up to his elbow. “You know he’s a childhood friend and we haven’t seen each other for ages, can you blame me for wanting to spend some time with him?”

Donghyuck closes his eyes, patently from ire, but deep down he knows it’s irrational. Still, his ego is a big part of him and he doesn’t want to acquiesce. “Then why didn’t you ask him to be your date for the wedding instead?”

“Because I actually have a boyfriend.” You state the obvious, walking towards your room, the sound of your footsteps growing faint. Donghyuck follows behind you. “You’re being unreasonable, let’s not argue over something this childish. It’s not like I completely deserted you back there.”

“But you’re practically all over him!”

“He has a girlfriend, Hyuck,” you strip off your obsidian-coloured velvet silk dress, your bare back exposed to Donghyuck’s sight. “But that’s not even the point. Girlfriend or not, you really shouldn’t be jealous.”

After putting on one of his big t-shirts, you scramble to bed, not bothering to wipe off your makeup. Although Donghyuck is still a little furious, he softens at his favourite sight —you in one of his things.

“What are you doing?” You are about to pull the blankets up to your chin but stop halfway when the question arises.

“Sleeping?” You answer, muddled at his attitude. “Are we gonna argue about this too?”

Donghyuck does not reply, instead he leaves for the bathroom. You are visibly confused but are too tired to even think of a reason for his behaviour.

Out of the blue, you feel a gentle, wet stroke on your cheek. Not too harsh but enough to bring you to your senses.

“What are you doing?”

Donghyuck sits on the edge of your bed, a pack of cotton pads on his lap and a hand outstretched to remove traces of makeup on your face.

“You say the universe hates you because you always wake up to a new set of acnes, yet here you are sleeping with your makeup on,” he says rather sullenly, though you find it cute.

You unwittingly release a snort and Donghyuck glares at you. He forces your eyes shut as he erases blue powder off the stretch of your heavy lids. You hum quite drowsily, fingers immediately reaching for Donghyuck’s free hand.

“I need this for the thing,” he mumbles as he nods toward the bottle of acetone. You arch an eyebrow. Donghyuck thinks he’s being discreet about it, but you do notice that he’s still jealous and is letting you know in the subtlest ways.

You retract your hand, figuring that he does need his other hand to clean your makeup anyway. Donghyuck feels your tentative motion and silently draws your hand back to his. His eyes don’t leave your cheek although you know it's because he’s too afraid to look into your eyes. A timid smile plays on your lips while Donghyuck’s thins, concealing every inch of guilt he has.

You suppose you’re alright like this—he’s cute when he’s jealous.

Everything has a start.

Before the matching carmine crochet socks, diamond kites that rove about the clouds on a breezy afternoon, blueberry pomegranate popsicles that paint your lips an old mauve, the littered kisses on your neck, the soft snores that meld in the air, before all the lazy, lingering mornings safe in each other's arms—Donghyuck confesses that he likes you.

Maybe not intentionally, but his friends tell him it’s overdue anyway.

He plays an upbeat song on his guitar as if it’s heartbreaking and dramatic, a summery ditty like it’s a sad ballad. The lyrics that leave him are unhurried, falling into the cadence he purposely alters with the slightest, devilish smile playing about his lips and theatrical expressions that are impossible to ignore. His playful eyes only leave the strings to look at you—to laugh at you.

“What’s so funny!” You cry out rather than ask. An exaggerated frown lingers on your face, unimpressed by the absolute foolery across you. Donghyuck can be a little annoying, especially when he’s turning your favourite song into a funny-sounding (but not actually funny) ballad.

“What’s with your face?” He pauses to wipe a minute tear, attestation to how all out he’s been laughing.

You throw your head back with a pronounced groan, though a sheepish smile quickly replaces your sullen countenance. “Stop,” you throw a pillow at him, running out of options to silence the boy whose guitar now lies on the cotton rug. “It’s not funny.” Donghyuck’s hearty laughs slowly recede but he’s being painfully obvious on stifling a giggle.

“God, I love you.”

You don’t remember hearing “God, I love you.” in your favourite song.

Donghyuck realises what he’s done. The words sound artless, and he knows this: there is no room for denying when he doesn’t even have to think—when all of it happens like a subconscious addiction. Because it really is. He would repeat the words like he’s memorising, but he doesn’t need to when he knows it. They recur in his head so many times until they’re spilling out of his lips.

You are his addiction and loving you might be his newest.

But you are immaculately dense, another foible Donghyuck once teased you for when everyone’s patently orchestrating a surprise birthday party for you and you still fail to notice. You are especially gullible this time for two reasons: one, you’re trying to ignore the fact that you do like him, because two, he can never feel the same way about you.

In all honesty, having Donghyuck as your boyfriend sure does sound tempting.

“You messed up the lyrics,” you say, bewildered (but more bewildered at yourself for saying this). “There’s no ‘God, I love you’ in there.”

The boy across you only blinks. He’s become uncharacteristically quiet.

“I know,” Donghyuck clears his throat. “It’s not part of the song.”

“So as a friend then?” You now sit upright with your arm thrown across the back pillows.

“Huh?”

“You said you love me?”

Despite his trembling hands, Donghyuck nods casually.

“As a friend though, right?”

The sound of his heel accidentally thumping his guitar jolts you out of your perplexity. Your friend curses under his breath, clearly uneasy.

“Fuck, no,” he avoids eye contact, choosing to sneak a look at the broken filament light bulb on the ceiling. “I actually, actually love you. More than a friend.”

You shift in your place, now facing the lurid letters on the spine of your book that read How to Find Love 101—considering the situation you probably won’t need it anymore. You almost snicker at yourself.

In the short-lived seconds you are bold enough to look at him, Donghyuck seems like a burden’s been lifted off his shoulders.

“I think,” you start, playing with the hem of your sleeves. “I think I might be in love with you too.” You try to smother the smile that’s begging to manifest but give in when you turn to your right and see Donghyuck riveting his eyes on you with the biggest grin.

“Are you serious?” He asks, picking up a throw pillow in his way and slowly scooting closer to you.

You’re not sure how to react to the sudden proximity but Donghyuck assumes you are serious about your feelings for him as evinced in the shy curvature of your lips. So he really doesn’t wait for an answer before he starts taking your hands in his, prompting you to face him and leave the poor hardback you’ve been staring daggers at alone.

“So this is what it’s like to have you accepting my confession,” He whispers somewhat to himself. “I’ve planned out scenarios in my head of how I was going to confess to you, I never thought it’d turn out this way.”

“After you practically ruined my favourite song.”

“After I practically ruined your favourite song.” He laughs freely, still finding the situation quite funny. Even so you couldn’t be happier, being with him now that you know he’s your lover feels like you’ve finally found your safe haven.

You look down at your hands that are intertwined on his lap, the sweet significance that you belong to each other. He lets go of your hand to tilt your chin up with his forefinger and lace them back together. “I promise to make you the happiest person in the world.”

And Lee Donghyuck is a man of his word.

Donghyuck would tell you that you make him the happiest even when all you do is sing out of tune. He would steal kisses when you’re not looking and slip in compliments between them because he loves catching you off guard. He would give up any day (even spending time with the guys) just to be in your arms, his favourite place. Even when he’s upset, you could see that he tries to not let it overpower him. When he’s utterly jealous and almost loses it, he still treats you like a princess and sometimes you think you don’t deserve him. On the nights he’s terrified that you might leave him, you make him forget why he ever was in the first place and he loves you for that. At the end of the day, when your bodies are connected, moving as one through the whispers of wind, he knows he wouldn’t have it any other way. He wouldn’t—he couldn’t—dare imagine a world without you.

So the little things he says to you and the little things he does, Donghyuck promises that they’re never empty of love.

You (and loving you) are his addiction and it will stay that way, perhaps, forever.

210 notes · View notes

darker-soft-starker · 4 years ago

Photo

Starker High School AU Pt. 6 (1, 2, 3, 4, 5)

---

tw: general howard stark warning

---

There is a buzzing by his ear.

At first, Tony doesn’t really notice it, waking up in short increments before being pulled back under. But he keeps waking, unsure what keeps tugging him out of his dreams, hand flapping around his face as he tries to stop the incessant ringing.

“Blergh,” he mumbles into his pillow.

Batting his hand around to quell the source of annoyance, he comes to grip his phone, squinting as it lights up inches away from his face and vibrates against his palm. For a second he thinks it’s his alarm, but then he remembers that he didn’t set one. It’s a succession of text notifications cascading down his screen that alerts him out of the slope of slumber with a start.

The only time his phone goes off like this is an emergency. The first thing he registers is that it’s only eight-minutes after seven. He blinks, sight clearing from the sleep wedged in his eye as he reads the flurry of still-incoming texts.

> so thanks for last night > yknow > for the ride > i mean > you know what i mean > anyway > so that folder i gave you had my BIO notes, not econ > im such a doofus > i need them back > don’t bother looking at them lol > can we meet up?

Tony groans, eyelids heavy as anvils. Jesus christ. He didn’t get home until four after dropping this guy off and he’s already up and bothering him? What gives?

Exhausted and annoyed, he tucks his phone under his pillow and sets it on do-not-disturb for extra measure. There ain’t no way he’s getting up at seven on a Saturday for fucking class notes. Prick.

In his opinion, he’s filled his quote of good deeds for the month and he doesn’t need to be up for another few hours. Whatever it is, he thinks, snuggling into his pillow, he’s sure it can wait.

---

The next time he wakes it’s just after nine. There’s a gap in his curtains allowing a sharp shard of sunlight into the room where it directly pierces into his eyelids.

He groans tiredly into the drool patch on his pillow, willing sleep to come back to him, turning on his other side, gripping the edges of the quilt and tightening it around himself until he is firmly cocooned within it. It’s nice and warm, and sleep is such a rare commodity to him so it’s novel to bask in its dregs. But there isn’t any more sleep to come he’s quick to realize, giving up after a few minutes and blinking up at the ceiling.

Nine is practically six. It’s criminal to be up this early.

There’s an unusual flurry of texts on his phone, some from Rhodey, but most of them are from Parker, an endless ladder of increasing franticness.

Tony tosses his phone to the end of his bed carelessly.

It’s been literally less than twelve hours since he’s had to deal with the shithead. Surely whatever was lodged up his ass couldn’t possibly be as important as Tony ignoring him.

Swinging his legs off the bed, he stands and stretches his arms up high, fingers curling. The stretch feels good and he takes a quick sniff of his armpits to gauge if he can forego a shower for the third day in a row.

The stench is wicked. It’s possible that he’s overdue.

He strips off as he heads towards the adjacent bathroom, naked and nursing a semi.

He can’t help but shudder as his back meets the cold tiles, the intuitive shower head following his body with a mechanical whir, miscalculating its aim and spraying him in the face.

Ah. That will need to be recalibrated, he notes.

But, he can’t say he really minds, tolerating the spray, even as it hits his mouth like a fire hose. He ducks his head to wet his hair, reaching blindly for the touchpad to dial down the pressure. Once the water is to his liking he reaches down to take himself in hand, leisurely stroking himself.

It’s just a perfunctory part of his morning ritual; he doesn’t really have anyone in mind as he brings himself to full hardness, just the fleeting memory of lips around his cock, the next of a well rounded ass, not feeling particularly creative.

Okay, so maybe he pictures some big, brown eyes and dark hair he can run his fingers through. And maybe he goes off like a rocket. That’s his business.

Anyway, once he’s out of the shower, a towel wrapped around his waist, he inspects his appearance in the mirror. The bruises on his face are still pretty gruesome, deep purple and beginning to yellow around the edges. The cut on his lip seems to be well and truly scabby.

Turning to the side, Tony takes observation of his overall torso region; his stomach is not as defined as he’d like it to be - probably due to his affinity for carbs and sweets, if he’s honest. Between a few fingers he can pinch the skin and pull it a little -- and look, he’s a bit soft around the middle, but he lifts, alright. Maybe he isn’t exactly steel cut like the dudebros on the football team who have made being ripped their life mission, but he has musculature under the adipose.

Is he a little self-conscious about it? Sure. Is he worried about it enough to give up garlic bread and cronuts? No. Especially when he spots a new chest hair nestled comfortably between his pecs.

Probably a bit too proud of himself because of a singular piece of hair, Tony gets dressed in a pair of jeans that have seen better days, speckled with singe marks and thinning at the knees and a singlet, slinging on his leather jacket for the finishing touch.

He almost forgets the bot.

“Look at you,” he says, to the mangled mess of metal on his desk. Scooping the injured, beeping bot Tony stuffs it into his backpack. “Come here, darling. Shh, you’re okay.”

Peering both ways out of the hall to ensure the coast is clear, he quickly descends the stairs, shushing the bot the whole way.

On the ground floor, he pauses when he hears voices coming from his father’s office. It takes a second to recognise the voices, his father and Stane arguing over one another, loudly, then softly. He tries to listen in, catching somewhat audible hisses about the company finance officer.

Careful to avoid the floorboards that squeak he tiptoes to the kitchen to pocket a few muesli bars and a water bottle from the fridge.

The voices get progressively louder as he sneaks to the front door, silently saluting their maid as he passes. She waves back at him, offering a sympathetic smile as he goes out the door.

His heart pounds as he reaches his car, parked around the corner street.

“Alright, baby,” he grins, revving the engine. “Let’s go.”

---

“The fuck?”

It’s hard to be sure, but perhaps Rhodey doesn’t expect Tony’s unannounced arrival at his front door. Not if the furious scowl and bunny slippers on his feet are anything to go by.

Nonetheless, he slips past the front door, welcoming himself into his friends home, despite the exasperated outcry of for fucks sake Tony, it’s Saturday and it’s not even noon, can’t you call ahead?

No, he can’t call. Well, actually, he reconsiders, heading down the hall to the basement, his friends footsteps echoing behind him, he probably could, but it wouldn’t make anyone less mad at him, so what’s the point?

Besides, judging by the empty driveway and barren living room, Rhodey’s family is already out, he’s not sure what the issue is.

“The issue is I am tired, man,” his friend complains, following him down the stairs. “What are you doing here?”

“Me too, honeybear, freakin’ exhausted,” Tony mutters, skipping down the stairs. “Go back to bed. I’ll be out of your hair in a minute.”

“Oh sure, and let you solder your fingers together again. Nah. Not taking the fall for that.”

“I’m not going to solder my fingers together. I’m a pro.”

“Unless you need me to remind you of last summer,” Rhodey takes a seat at the workbench, “I suggest you shut up.”

“You’re rude, you know that?” Tony asks, retrieving the bot from his backpack and setting it upon the bench. “I’ll have you know that I’ve learned since then.”

“And yet you still refuse to wear gloves,” his friend sighs, settling heavily upon the adjacent chair. There’s a comfortable quiet between them while Tony works, carefully settling all the pieces onto the table, moving each with care.

It’s hard to miss the weight of observation on the back of his neck, but he lets his friend drink his fill before he’s ready to speak.

“You fuck up something?” He points to the bot.

Tony shakes his head, pressing the solder into the circuit board. “No. Well, yes. The coding is perfect, as usual, but this idiot isn’t any smarter than a Roomba. He’s meant to be smarter.”

“So?

“He is smarter. I dunno, sometimes he messes up,” Tony mumbles, reaching blindly for the bent-nose pliers before Rhodey places it in his hand. “He’s not bad, just dumb. It’s not his fault.”

“And again, what happened? Did you run him over?”

“No, the old man got sick of me playing with ‘toys’. Dumb-dumb here met the wall in a very dramatic fashion. It was an Oscar-worthy performance.”

There’s a sigh from behind him.

“Does that explain your face?”

Tony glances behind him and smirks.

“You mean my dashing good looks?”

“Tony.”

“Honestly? I got into a fight with a feral racoon that ran off with some old lady’s purse. It nearly cost me an eye, but I saved the day. She called me a hero, gave me some stale crackers from her purse and then gave me her number.”

“Tony.”

“Fine. I was skateboarding. I was in the middle of executing a super complicated kickflip but lost control when an enlarged gutter rat scurried in front of me. I flew headfirst into the gravel. Very embarrassing. That work?”

“Tony.”

“Look, just leave it will ya? God, you’re like a nagging wife. Pick whichever story makes you feel all nice and fuzzy inside.”

Rhodey is suddenly before him, waving something in his face. “Your phone, jackass. Your better half is calling?”

Huh?

Tony blinks, gently setting down the pliers and the chip he’d removed, taking his phone. It vibrates, Your Better Half flashing across the screen.

“Parker, ugh.”

He really should have changed the contact name by now, he thinks, swiping to answer.

“Alcoholics Anonymous,” Tony answers by way of greeting. “How may I direct your call?”

“Ha ha, very funny, asshole. So you are awake. I’ve been trying to contact you all morning.”

“I know. I’m beginning to think you actually might have separation issues,” Tony says. “I just got rid of you like eight hours ago.”

“I’m calling about the folder. Didn’t you read my texts?“

“Oh, I read them,” Tony settles back on the stool and continues to work on the main circuit. “See, I was just ignoring you. Hoping you’d take the hint, but I forget subtlety is lost on you.”

“Look, I need my notes. Can we meet up?”

“Right, for Bio,” Tony rolls his eyes. “Can’t it wait until Monday?”

“No. I, uh -- I have a test first period. I need to study for it.”

“Uh-huh. Just remember, the mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell. You’ll be fine.”

“I take AP Bio, asswipe, I’m aware of that. Can I just get it back, please?”

“You take AP Bio? Was that an admin error or something?” he asks, holding the chip he’d retrieved earlier up to the light to inspect for any damage.

It looks to be ok. The damage to the bot overall seems to be mostly cosmetic, couple of scratches, a few dents. Nothing that a few replacement panels wont fix. Whatever he hasn’t already got stored here Rhodey will surely have spare parts, it’ll be fine. God, what would he do if his friend didn’t lovingly tolerate Tony using his space for storage and barging in whenever he lucks. It’s lucky Rhode’s parents are so chill though, unlike his own. He may be a hot-head but he’s practically a saint compared to -

“ - hello? Are you still there? I can hear you breathing.”

Tony blinks. “Right. Your notes. Look, I’m kinda busy. I have a life outside of you and I don’t actually care about your academic integrity, so, you’re gonna have to wait.”

“For how long?”

“I’ll drop them off this evening, like six-ish. Hey, maybe we could do that interview with May if she’ll be around.”

“...I’m not sure that’s the best idea.”

“C’mon, I already told you I’m not actually hot for your aunt. I’ll be professional.”

Rhodey shoots him a bewildered look.

“That’s not what -- look, whatever. Just don’t be late okay. I have a life outside of you too.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard that one before. I’ll try and not get in the way of your weekend plans of crying while you masturbate.”

“I literally hate you.”

“And yet you aren’t denying the crying. Anyway, I have to go now, try to clean yourself up before I get there. See you at six, bubby,” he hangs up, cracking his neck before refocusing on his mangled creation. “Now where were we?”

“What the fuck.”

Tony pauses, pliers in hand. There is a particular expression on Rhodey’s face erring on the side of confused and haunted.

“What?”

“’Bubby’?”

“Don’t say it like that - it’s like an inside thing. Don’t repeat it to him, alright, he’ll get pissy. And then I’ll get pissy.”

“You know it’s just a project, right? You two aren’t actually married.”

“Thank god. Could you imagine being married to that guy?” Tony shudders. “Scary.”

“Two weeks ago you said he was the bane of your existence. Now you have ‘inside things’ with him? You saw him last night?”

He sighs, shoulders dropping. Yeah, he doesn’t really have a good explanation for any of that.

The thing about himself, Tony’s found over time and trial, is that he really, really likes to press buttons. He likes to test variables, wants to see what would happen if he did something he wasn’t supposed to, and map out the world as it occurs in motion around him. Curiosity means he likes to test the parameters, to see what can yield, what will bite back.

More often than not that kind of impulsive brand of curiosity has gotten him in some sort of trouble. Turns out not everything and everyone appreciates being tested - and many things like to lash out when pressed.

Parker, Tony has found, is somebody that doesn’t yield or bite. If Tony was a betting man he’d have placed his money on the boy being more of a yielding type - but what he does is he presses buttons just as much as Tony does, buttons he didn’t even know he had to be pressed.

And that very much interests Tony.

He just doesn’t know what to do with that information, except to keep pressing.

“I’ll explain later,” Tony promises, mentally crossing his fingers. “In the meantime, can we forget about Parker and focus on my broken baby here?”

Rhodey relents, but Tony knows that look in his eye. He’ll be hearing about it later and at the most inconvenient time. And he’s gonna tell Pepper.

Wonderful.

He really should change Peter’s contact name in his phone.

---

By the time he leaves the Rhodes residence and heads to his next destination, his robot is in somewhat in working order again. It remains fairly immobile though, just until Tony can replace the damaged infrared and touch sensor. It clicks its metal claws sadly towards Tony in the passenger seat as he drives.

It’s a Roy Orbison kind of day, so the music is loud and the guitar is heavy as he makes the drive to Harlem.

And if Tony frees a hand to pat the bot on its’ metal head every so often, that’s his business.

When he reaches the other side of the city he parks in his usual space at a nearby lot and contemplates whether or not he should leave the malfunctioning bot in his car for the sake of being professional. It clicks at his jacket, weakly grasping the material as if on a plea - and damn, Tony knows the thing isn’t actually sentient but what kind of asshole would he be if he left it here for the day.

Heart squeezing with sympathy, Tony delicately places him in the backpack, leaving the zip partially open for ‘air’.

Next, snacks.

While he’s retrieving a pack (or two) of Reeses, he comes across Parker’s folder that he’d stashed there last night. Their conversation from earlier returns to the forefront of his mind.

Look, Parker might not be the knuckle-dragging, monosyllabic dumbass Tony initially suspected that he was, and yeah he was savvy as demonstrated during their trip to the rental market - and yeah, definitely smarter than his social circle would suggest, and is absolutely and a source of constant surprise to Tony - but is he AP Bio - or AP anything material?

Time to find out.

The first thing that Tony notices is that the notes are definitely not for Bio. They’re for Econ, as initially prescribed.

The second thing he notices, as he flicks through the papers, skimming over the complicated graphs and annotated research, is that what he’s reading is actually good.

Well, I’ll be darned, Tony thinks, eyes getting progressively wider as he flicks through the pages. Not bad at all.

Makes him wonder why Parker thought he was missing his Bio notes though.

The answer to that becomes clear when a crumpled envelope falls out of the stack onto Tony’s lap. He picks it up, at first thinking it’s a part of the research, but pauses. It’s open and it’s addressed to May Parker.

“Um,” he says.

It’s from Queens Presbyterian Hospital, which should make him drop it as if it were burning. It doesn’t, though. Either it’s meant to be included in the folder, or it’s not and that’s why Parker has been acting like a crazy-ex all morning.

Hmm. Tony sits there, torn, debating whether or not to look into it, the overdue stamp standing out against the crisp paper like a warning sign. On one hand, he’s running kinda late and, y’know, privacy or whatever -- on the other, his fingers are already itching to know what’s in it.

Mind your own business, he can already hear Rhodey saying, mind your own business, Tony.

Curiosity and a distinct lack of a moral compass wins, as always. Just a quick peek, that should be okay, right? The envelope is already open anyway, so, it’s not like anyone will be able to tell.

God, this is none of my business, he tells himself, even as he’s retrieving the letter from within and starts reading it.

Oh.

Tony quickly stashes the letter back into the envelope and back into the folder. Yep, definitely none of his business.

Yeah, he really shouldn’t have done that. Big fucking yikes on his behalf. And yep, there’s the guilt -- or at least he thinks the stomach churning is guilt, it could be the stale muesli bar he ate on the way.

Nonetheless, it hangs over him like a dark cloud as he picks up his backpack and heads out to the garage across the road. What kind of asshole looks into someone’s mail because they can’t help themselves. This dick, that’s who.

Fixing a grin he doesn’t really feel, he heads to the back office. He knocks on the window, ducking his head into the open door.

“Yo,” he waves to the man sitting behind the desk. “Sorry I’m late.”

“Hey kid,” the man looks up, smiling before his face drops. “Tony, your face. What happened?”

“This? It’s nothing --”

“-- is that why you couldn’t come to work yesterday? Not that I mind,” the man stands up. “Are you okay? Was it --”

“-- Was it nothing to worry about? Absolutely,” Tony holds his hands up in surrender. “Just an unfortunate encounter with a wild, feral squirrel in Central Park. I tell you, they’re deceivingly cute, but they’re pests. Totally out of control.”

“Tony.”

“Jarvis,” he interrupts, gesturing to the cars in the garage behind him. “C’mon. Look, let’s get to work, okay? Save the violins for later.”

And by later he means never.

The man sighs, world-weary, looking at him like he knows exactly what he’s thinking. At first he’s certain his boss is going to push the issue, but it must be a day for dodging bullets because he relents.

“Alright, kid. I got a ninety-four Ford sedan back there with your name on it. Busted fan belt, overheated engine. Probably needs a new set of spark plugs while you’re at it.”

With a grateful nod, Tony heads back, locating the vehicle in question. It’s rusted to all hell and probably not worth the cost of repair, but he gets stuck into it anyway, keen for a distraction. He sets his bag and bot down near him while Jarvis blasts Alice Cooper’s Poison.

Tony might not have all the answers to life’s problems, but this is something he knows how to fix.

---

He probably distracts himself a little too well, because by the time he’s wrapped up with the Ford it’s already five-thirty and he’s a mess of engine oil and coolant.

It’s only when Jarvis squeezes his shoulder and points to the clock on the far wall does he realise that he’s lost his sense of time. How the fuck is he supposed to clean up and get all the way from Harlem to Queens at this time of night?

“Ah, crap,” Tony mutters, setting down his socket-wrench in his toolbox. “I’m late.”

“Late for what? You got a hot date or something?” Jarvis asks, stepping back to give him some room as he rushes to the staff bathroom.

“What, no,” He calls back, running the faucet and pumping soap over his hands. “I gotta go see about a guy.” He struggles to hear his boss over the running water but he doesn’t have time to stop and figure it out.

“From school?”

“Yes, and a prime pain in my ass,” Tony mutters, drying his hands on his jeans, walking back into the garage. “Anyway, see you Monday, chief?”

His boss nods, passing Tony his earnings for the week in cash. Tony should have known to dash and run because he starts hearing the proverbial violins when Jarvis clamps a hand on his shoulder, squeezing in a way that is more paternal than Tony is comfortable with.

“You know you can call me, you have my number. You come up and see me and the missus whenever you want.”

Tony fake snores.

“Jarvis.”

“We have a spare room,” he insists, shrugging sheepishly and stepping back. “It’s yours at any time.”

“I see you enough, okay, don’t push it. I’ll see you Monday,” Tony draws him into a one-armed hug and claps him on the back. “Don’t you worry about me.”

“Don’t make me worry.”

“No promises,” Tony salutes, slinging his backpack on shoulder and walking backwards out of the garage to the street. “Hug the missus for me.”

Jarvis salutes back.

With that he sprints across the street when there’s a gap in traffic, bot snapping gently at his hair as he runs.

Sweaty and sore, he is full of energy, a sense of accomplishment coursing through his blood, like an afternoon of work can only provide. He should fire off a text, he thinks, as he starts the ignition and heads out onto the road, yeah. Let Parker know he will be late.

And he does genuinely mean to send a message at the next traffic stop, but then Queen starts playing on the radio and Tony isn’t a fool, okay, he turns that up loud.

Next traffic stop, he promises himself.

---

“I’m beginning to think you can’t read the time,” Parker opens the door with a scowl. “You said six.”

Wincing in the hallway, Tony looks at his phone. Six-fifty-nine. It’s not totally his fault, okay. There was a pile up along the way and traffic was a nightmare of ridiculous proportions. He swears he’s gonna be the first person to invent a commercially viable flying car just for the sake of personally avoiding road congestion.

“Yeah, so. Here’s the thing: I had things to do, okay, priorities --”

“You and your priorities, I swear to god --”

“Here,” Tony cuts him off, passing him his folder, letter neatly inside where it isn’t going to obviously slip out. “Your folder, dumbass.”

Peter grips it, holding it to his chest as he stares at Tony for a moment, before passing it to the nearest flat surface, a weathered and small table that holds their keys.

“Okay, thanks,” Peter nods, smiling grimly, looking behind his shoulder. “Appreciate it. You can go now.”

“So where are the Econ notes,” Tony blurts, wincing as he plays dumb. “I mean, if you had something prepared.”

Peter blinks, surprised. “Oh, uh. Um, It can wait until Monday, can’t it?”

“The assignment is due Wednesday.”

“Right. Um, just give me a sec --”

“Is that Tony?”

May appears behind Peter, smiling brightly. Tony waves, rocking back on his feet.

“Hey, Missus Parker.”

“Hey there, handsome,” she hip-checks her nephew, joining him in the doorway and glancing between the two. “You didn’t mention we were having company tonight, Pete.”

“He’s not handsome and he’s not staying --”

“-- I was just dropping something off,” he looks to Peter. “And excuse you, the lady has spoken and I have to agree. I am handsome. Some might even say that I’m debonair.”

“And some might say that you’re deplorable.”

“Hmm, I think you mean adorable.”

That prompts a smile out of Peter. He crosses his arms over his chest and tilts his chin up, all haughty.

“Tony Stark, you are many things, but adorable isn’t one of them.”

He leans in, pouting playfully. “Oh come on, Parker. I’m a little cute, aren’t I?”

“No.”

“Not even a little?”

“Uh, let me check,” Peter pauses before smiling sardonically. “Verdicts in - jury says you’re one-hundred-percent despicable. Sorry.”

"I’m sure I could sway the jury.”

“I think you mean you could pay the jury.”

Tony nods, pretending to be serious. “Well, yeah. You know, for consensus.”

Peter licks his lips, shifting closer.

“Consensus is important...”

“...Well, if you two are done,” May says after an extended period of silence, tying her hair back into a ponytail. “We were just about to head out to a Thai place around the corner. Tony, you should join us.”

“Oh, no, that’s okay. I should go --”

The rest of his words are cut off by a truly monstrous growl of his stomach. He winces, scrunching up his nose sheepishly. He probably should have eaten more than Reeses all afternoon.

“Well, I guess that settles that,” May says, stepping out of the doorway and beckoning Tony in. “Come in. Sorry about the mess.”

It’s with Peter still staring at him that he reluctantly enters their apartment, brushing past the other boy. It looks the same as it did the other week, mostly tidy and smelling like incense. There’s a sizeable stack of unfolded laundry on the dining table, however, that wasn’t there before.

Tony’s distracted by a pair of dancing-bulbasaur boxers sticking out of the pile when May leans in close to sniff at his hair.

“You’ve got something in your hair, honey. Is that paint?”

He runs his fingers through his hair, palm coming back streaked with green. “Oh, uh, radiator fluid,” he explains, holding up his hand.

“Can I ask what you did to your face?”

“I saved a homeless guy and his beef-sandwich from a pack of rabid, angry dogs. No need to call me a hero.”

May looks at him oddly. “Oh, well, if you say so. Go get yourself washed up and we can head out.”

The burn of Peter’s stare follows him all the way to their bathroom.

---

The meal is less awkward than Tony thought it would be.

Well, for him at least.

Over larb and khao pad they’d gotten through an informal interview with May about her experience as a caregiver with a single income. Not only was it informative for his own future financial independence, but she has been generous enough to speckle in colorful anecdotes of her nephew’s upbringing. Parker’s face has been getting progressively redder all night and it has nothing to do with the spice in his food.

Tony has enjoyed the evening thoroughly.

“ - and of course, we were lucky we hadn’t decided to go cheap on the health insurance. Especially when Pete here broke his wrist at gymnastics when he was eight.”

Tony barely holds back a snort.

“You did gymnastics, Parker?”

Peter tips his head back to stare at the ceiling and sighs. The flush seems to be creeping down his neck too, Tony observes gleefully. He stuffs a large mouthful of rice in his mouth to mitigate the urge to tease.

"Yes, he was very good, weren’t you, Pete? So talented, you should see his medals.”

“Stop, please.”

“C’mon, no need to be embarrassed, Pete, you were amazing,” she says. “You’re still a flexible little bug, aren’t you?”

Tony chokes on his rice.

Peter has his eyes squeezed shut and looks like he wants the earth to swallow him whole.

“May, I’m literally begging you.”

“Uh,” he beats at his chest with his fist, swallowing roughly. “So how long did you do that for?”

“Until I was fourteen.”

“Why’d you quit?”

There’s a very deliberate, weighted pause. May and Peter share a look between them and Tony gets a deeply uncomfortable sense that he’s just stuck his foot in it. Retract, he thinks, already regretting opening his mouth.

“Well,” May clears her throat, her tone light. “After my husband, Pete’s uncle Ben died, we moved away and we had to make some... financial cuts at the time.”

The bite he’s just taken goes to ash in his mouth. God, he really is a big idiot isn’t he. He’d assumed that May never got married to the man in the photos or that they’d just divorced, he didn’t realise that he’d passed - and so recently, too. Welling up with shame, he can’t stop himself from glancing at Peter, who’s staring at the table, lips pursed.

“Oh,” he clears his throat. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to - I didn’t know. Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” May waves her hand dismissively, but her smile is strained. “Anyway, what about you, Tony? You’re severely asthmatic, right? That must have been hard, growing up if you wanted to play sports.”

Tony’s eyes widen.

“Yes, um, so hard. Luckily I’m not really an exercise-y kinda guy. I personally prefer to keep a heart rate below eighty beats per minute.”

“Did you have any hobbies growing up?”

“Yeah, driving my parents crazy,” Tony says, glad for the shift from the somber topic. “Escaping from nannies, seeing how quickly I could get them to quit.”

“You like tinkering,” Peter says quietly, looking up. “You mentioned, before. Cars and stuff.”

He shrugs, starting to feel as if he’s under the microscope, especially when Peter looks at him, eyes glittering with thinly-veiled interest.

“I mean, I don’t know. I like - building stuff, I guess. Machines and robots, y’know, cars. It’s like, whatever.”

“You want to be the next Elon Musk or somethin’?” Peter asks, not unkindly, resting his chin on his hand.

“Nah, I wanna be the first Tony Stark,” he scratches his cheek, suddenly bashful. It’s an uncommon feeling for him. One hard to avoid, however, particularly when there is a boy who Tony doesn’t really hate who’s asking about his life like it might matter.

He clears his throat. “Anyway, mostly it was just me cataloguing all the ways I could make the vein in my fathers’ head pop. I’m still working on that.”

May looks between them, smiling.

“Sounds like you were a handful.”

“Sure was.”

Still is, apparently, no matter how much he tries to stay out of the way.

The silence that follows is punctuated by the sounds of cutlery scraping across plates, of shrinking ice cubes rattling against glass. It feels pensive at the same time as it does thorny, like Tony opened the door to let someone in but accidentally let out a few ghouls.

And despite knowing he’d stepped on a landmine with the Parkers, he can’t help but wonder what other pieces of the puzzle he’s missing. Why Peter doesn’t live with his parents. Not that Tony is invested in him or anything.

He just doesn’t like mysteries, that’s all.

May excuses herself after to head to the bathroom not long after. It’s during that time that the waiter brings the check, which Tony takes immediately, slipping in some of the cash he’d gotten earlier, despite Peter’s protests. He was gonna do it anyway, even if he didn’t have the letter in the back of his mind.

“Stop paying for me,” Peter says after he passes the check-book back to the waiter. “Your family is rich, I get it. I’ve told you, I don’t need your charity.”

Tony shakes his head. It’s not worth mentioning that the only money he spends doesn’t come from his family.

“It’s not charity. Do you really think I’m that nice, eh? C’mon. Maybe I like lording it over you.”

“Well, at some point I’m going to pay you back.”

“And when that time comes I’m not going to accept your money.”

“You will,” Peter smiles wryly down at his plate. “I have my ways.”

“As do I, sweetums. Now, do me a favour: shut up and finish your larb.”

Peter does, but something about him shifts. It seems more quiet and contemplative, his eyes staying longer on Tony than they normally would. He wants to tell him to take a picture, but for once, Tony thinks it’s probably best if he keeps his mouth shut.

---

Back at the apartment, Peter goes to retrieve his ‘Econ notes’, taking the folder from the table and retreating to his bedroom. In the interim, May offers to let Tony stay over, inviting him for what he’s sure would be a rousing game of Mario Kart.

He politely declines.

“You sure? Winner gets to choose a movie.”

“I should really get home,” he says. “Thanks though. And thanks for dinner.”

“No problem. Thank you for paying, you didn’t have to do that. Let me pay you back.”

“No need. Think of it as payment for your services and letting us pick your brain tonight.”

She reluctantly accepts with a lot less pride than what her nephew displayed and that makes Tony feel a little sick, because it’s evident that she’s a proud and stubborn woman by nature. Her acceptance, albeit laboured, speaks volumes as to the reasoning behind it.

What takes him by surprise is when she hugs him goodbye and kisses his cheek.

“You’re a good egg, Anthony. Don’t be a stranger, okay?”

It’s probably the most maternal touch he’s had since, well. Probably since he last went to stay with Jarvis and his wife. Fidgeting in the hold, he’s not sure if he wants to squirm or to sink into it.

May leaves when Peter comes back in, a familiar stack of notes in his hands that he passes to Tony.

“You gonna kiss me goodbye, too?”

“What?” Peter blinks.

"Uh, never mind,” Tony waves the papers at him. “Thanks for this.”

Peter looks around to make sure they’re alone before leaning in rather promptly.

“Wow, hold up on the proximity there,” Tony inches back, startled by their sudden closeness. “I was joking about the kiss --”

“You read the letter, didn’t you,” Peter whisper-hisses.

“What? Letter? What letter?” Tony says, voice strangled. “I don’t know of any letter.”

He gets a painful poke in his chest for his lies.

“Don’t play dumb. It wasn’t where I left it.”

“I’m not -- ow, quit poking me.”

“Then stop lying. You’re unbelievable -- don’t you know that opening someone else’s mail is a crime?”

Tony’s shoulders slump as he concedes.

“Look, it was an accident, it just slipped out. And also, it’s not technically a crime, if the envelope was already open.”

“Oh and the letter magically opened itself and forced you to read it.”

“That could be argued.”

“Why couldn’t you mind your own business?“

Sick of being poked, he shoves the papers between his arm and his ribs to hold them and takes Peter’s fingers in his hands, squeezing the digits when they struggle to break free of his hold.

“I should have, I admit it - I didn’t think, okay, I’m sorry. Is she okay?”

Peter stops struggling, looking over his shoulder again.

“I don’t know,” he leans in again to whisper, “I only found it yesterday, I haven’t spoken to her yet. Look, I know you hate me, but can you please not tell anyone about this?”

“Why would I tell anyone?”

“I don’t know, because you’re the devil, and you get a kick out of seeing me suffer?”

“True, but I’m not going to tell anyone. Promise. That would make me look like an asshole and you like a martyr. Ergo, I shut my cake hole and continue looking better than you.”

“You’re a real prince charming,” the other boy huffs, but seems to take him at face value. “If I find out differently I’m going to come after you. You’re going to need dental work afterwards.”

Tony lets go of their joined hands, balling his fists and raising them to his face, mimicking what the other boy had done last night.

“You wanna tousle, huh?”

He gets a light shove out the doorway for his attitude.

“Alright, smartass. Get the fuck outta here already.”

“Going, going. Goodnight, princess.”

He mock bows, peering up under his eyelashes, momentarily arrested as he watches Parker roll his eyes and bite his bottom lip in an attempt to smother a smile.

His heart continues to beat a bit oddly all the way down to the car, where he sits in contemplative silence for a few moments until the sound of metal clicking shifts him out of his thoughts.

“Oh, hey you,” he coos, gently retrieving his bot from his bag and placing it in the passenger seat, instantly feeling bad. “I didn’t think I would take so long. I’m sorry.”

Placing a seatbelt over the bot and buckling him in, Tony begins to narrate his night to him as he pulls off the curb and begins driving.

“I guess that Parker isn’t so bad,” he tells the bot, who swivels its head in response to his voice. “I mean, he can’t dress for shit and has questionable tastes in friends - oh, and cannot hold his liquor - but I dunno, baby-bot. He’s okay. Don’t tell anyone I said that, though -- and oh my god, did I mention he did gymnastics, what a fucking dork...”

The thoughts churn and buoy him until he pulls up to his house nearly an hour later. From the driveway he can see his fathers office light still on.

The sight of it makes his stomach drop, all good cheer gone in an instant.

“Damn,” Tony whispers to himself, tapping his knuckles against the steering wheel. This time of night on a Saturday can only mean one thing and he is really not in the mood to be in the crosshairs of whatever his father and Stane are up to.

But before he can work himself into a worry his phone vibrates in his pocket.

> hey, look, thanks for not being a total dick tonight about everything > and last night as well, I guess > yknow what i mean < ur welcome < by the way, i’m proud of you > for what < not finishing off ur aunts beer tonight < takes strength < asking for help is the first step > omfg i take back what i said > ur the worst < and ur a pain in my ass > they have creams for that u know > anyway, g’nite, butthole > p.s. you’re still not adorable Tony smiles down at his phone. < goodnight bambi The bot clicks at him, breaking him out of his train of thought.

“Don’t look at me like that. Let’s go in, but you gotta keep quiet, okay.”

He manages to avoid detection and attention from anyone, despite accidentally stepping on a squeaky floorboard. Maybe it had something to do with the record player and raucous laughter coming from the office.

In any case, Tony’s just happy to make it back to his bedroom. There, he toes off his sneakers and starts getting ready for bed, stashing the leftover cash into a drawer.

It makes him think about Peter’s reluctance for Tony to pay for over the last couple of instances, and how freaking annoying that is. And rude.

Honestly, the dude should count himself as one of the lucky guys - Tony is not that magnanimous. He doesn’t experience an impulsive, unthinking eagerness to provide for just anybody.

Oh.

Tony stills in the middle of his bedroom.

Oh no.

He knows what this is.

“This is bad.”

---

tagging: @bylerboyfriends @ravens-starker-stuff, @starker-rays, @ironspiderstarker, @muse-of-gods, @notfor-temporaryuse, @tabbycat1220, @sugarfreecult, @rebel13lion39, @plueschpop, @spideravocados, @jellybbunny, @booktrashme, @elfkido, @mycatislickingmybedsheets, @queerghostboyo, @disneyprincessdominatrix, @cherrygoldlove @starkerflowers @starkeristheendgame @thewolffearsher @starkersugar , @starkerforlife6969, @css1992, @parkerrbitch, @fuckmemrstark, @blankblankityblank, @ilovemoreid, @blaquedecember, @killmylonelysoul, @notfor-temporaryuse, @arvaen

#starker #ironspider #tony stark x peter parker #high school au

276 notes · View notes

dewykth · 4 years ago

Text

SWEET SEPTEMBER.

a @periminkle and @dewykth collaboration.

synopsis. for many, september symbolizes new beginnings. but for namjoon, this month never fails to send him back into the past. though this time, something seems different.

pairing. kim namjoon | female reader contains. fluff, angst, slice of life au, ballet instructor!reader, single dad!nj word count. 7.5k+ warnings. death mentions, mature audience

dae’s note. surprise !!! this fic is dedicated to my favourite virgo karla @guklvr !! happy birthday bae i hope you enjoy this lil thing me n vira whipped up for u!! (i stress wrote a lot of this ha.) also sry for lying & keeping you up but hopefully this makes u forgive me. but i hope ur day goes amazing ILYSM DUDE !!! <333 and a huge thank you to vira for hopping on board for this idea bc i cld not have done this without her !!! pls give her all the love !!!

vira’s note. KARLAAAA!!! i always gotta scream ur name it’s mandatory to start with a good scream ykno? bUT HAPPY BIRTHDAY GIRL 🥳 i already told u this too many times today but ILYSM !! like that full day without saying a single word to u felt so weird and i kept going into our chat and rereading our mssgs and wishing I was talking to u??? which is weird to admit?? but that literally how much i missed u idk how but im addicted to u so if you leave me I will literally die :))) aNYWAY have the bestestestest day ever and i hope u love the fic bc I ignored all my uni work to finish this !!! (also i feel reallyreallyreally bad about last night sO IM SORRY AGAIN BUT I HOPE THIS IS WORTH IT) 💖

Despite the papers carelessly stuffed into his leather briefcase, the dark coffee stain on his black slacks, and his unkempt locks resembling that of a bird’s nest, Namjoon’s become accustomed to the hectic nature of his mornings.

The kitchen table is practically buried under stacks of files, yet he brushes them aside to allow one corner of the glass surface to peek through. He plops the toddler in his arms onto a high chair before racing to the counter and sloppily pouring some honey nut cheerios into a small bowl, handing it off to his daughter.

“Daddy?” her voice squeaks, a patient smile stretching across her lips. Her brown strands are tied up into pigtails at the crown of her head with pink ribbons that flutter with the movement of her tiny head.

“Yes, angel?” He scurries around to their bedroom, peeling the stained fabric off his body and threading one leg through another pair of slacks fresh from the laundry.

With Namjoon’s focus pinned on checking off the mental to-do list in his head, he misses the gentle, reassuring smile that stretches across her rosy lips. The adoration for her father is clear in her gaze. “You forgot to pour the milk.”

At the reminder, he squawks and hops back to the kitchen on one foot as he maneuvers his other leg through the pant hole. Swinging the fridge door open, he grabs the carton and sloppily pours the milk into her bowl—white droplets leaping out with their newfound freedom and forming perfect domes on the glass tabletop.

Cleaning the mess falls to the bottom of his priorities at the moment, and so he speeds off to the bathroom to ensure that his appearance is presentable for work while Dasom reaches over to pluck a tissue from the box, swiping the milky beads away before diving into her breakfast. She shoves as many cheerios into her small mouth as she can, rushing because she refuses to finish her meal in the car with their wild driver behind the wheel.

Despite her mere four years of age, she knows from experience that a bowl of cereal and a shaky vehicle is a recipe for disaster.

Namjoon races over to his briefcase with most of his hair sleeked back, only the locks of his bangs hanging out to frame his forehead. As he slips his dark blazer on to complete his form-fitting suit, Dasom scoops the last few brown rings into her mouth and slurps the remainder of the liquid.

“Did you finish your milk?” he questions while cramming the edges of the loose leaves that peek past the seam of his briefcase, hurriedly zipping it up and turning to face her.

Dasom flips the edge of the bowl up to display its empty contents, gulping the last of her breakfast down her throat. As per routine, she scans her father for any inconsistencies in his attire, landing on his odd fitting bottoms.

“Daddy, your pants are on backwards.”

His eyes nearly bulge out of their sockets, glancing down to affirm that the pockets at his sides are no longer at the front of his hips. Hastily, he shimmies out of his slacks once more and twists the fabric around to the proper orientation.

Dasom hops off her chair, her bowl and wet kleenex in hand as she waddles over to the sink and waits for him to deposit the dirty dish into the sink and the sullied tissue into the trash. Although her short arms couldn’t reach over the countertop just yet, she’ll diligently drink every last drop of her milk in hopes of growing tall enough to take some of the load off of her father’s back.

He hoists Dasom up at the sight of the red car pulling up to the driveway, squeezing into the back seat. Namjoon doesn’t have to tell the driver to book it, as the calm man in front has learned to keep his foot pressed on the pedal. The car weaves through the morning traffic with concerning speed, snaking through the other vehicles littering the road as if they were no more than stationary pylons, simply there for practice.

Dasom remains on her father’s lap with his arms looped protectively around the seatbelt over her torso. She sinks into his embrace, fiddling around with his long, slender fingers as she watches the blurs of colour speeding past the window.

“Did you put your ballet shoes into your backpack, angel?” Namjoon loosens his grip on her, unhooking one hand to rummage through his own briefcase in order to confirm that he had indeed slid his laptop within the chaos inside. To keep her entertained, he playfully extends his digits out of her reach.

“Of course!” she chirps, a wide grin revealing the gaps between her teeth. The pads of her fingertips brush against his palm and tickle the sensitive skin there when she realizes that her arms lack the length required to latch onto his hand. “I can’t wait for class, we’ve got a new teacher coming in today!”

Humming absentmindedly, he sighs in relief at the sight of the silver device and packs the crumpled papers back in. “What happened to Ms. Kim?”

“She’s teaching the older class now.” The pout on her lips can be heard within the muffled lilt of her voice when she continues, “I asked her to stay until my birthday next week b-but she didn’t.”

Namjoon’s breath hitches at the reminder, but attempts to compose himself for his daughter’s sake. “It’s out of her control, angel, plus she’ll probably swing by anyway.”

His mind starts to fog up with the emotions he thought he buried last year–they swarm his every thought and nibble away at his sanity. He knows better than to believe that they would ever disappear. September will always be an insurmountable month for him.

“I might be a bit late to pick you up later, just sit tight and wait for Daddy, okay?”

She eagerly nods in response, noticing the dull red bricks of her school coming into view. “Okay, bye Daddy!”

Namjoon unlocks the seatbelt, wistfully watching his toddler bounce out of his arms and onto the asphalt below. No matter how many times he drops her off, it’s always difficult to be separated from her bright smile, but he reminds himself that it’s all for her; it makes things a little easier to bear.

“Have a good day at school.” He reciprocates her frantic waving through the window, craning his neck to watch her adorable form become smaller and smaller with the increased distance. Her full cheeks and crinkled eyes are engraved into the back of his mind.

Before long, Namjoon finds himself rushing into his office after an earful from his surly boss about everything from the late hour to the long list of meetings scheduled to all the work he’s got piled up. With his lips pursed and his head bowed, he somehow manages to make it past another lively morning.

Namjoon has a habit of overthinking. He figures it’s normal when you have a stressful job and a four year old full of energy to balance all by yourself. Not that overthinking about his daughter does him any good, because that is far from the reality. If anything, it just makes him, what you’d call, a bit... overprotective (over worrisome if you asked Jin). But it’s something he can’t really help. Even when she had just entered his life, so small and so blissfully unaware of the awful and evil things in the world, all he wanted to do was hold her in his arms and shield her from it all as long as he could.

Though he’s very aware of the fact that it won’t be much longer, that won’t stop him from going over every single little thing that could go wrong in the meantime.

So, of course, when Namjoon’s asshole of a boss makes him stay two hours over his shift, all Namjoon can think about is Dasom. Is she okay? Has she eaten anything? Did she drink enough water today? She’s always dehydrated after her classes too. He usually calls Ms. Kim to check up on her, but his calls went straight to voicemail, which definitely wasn’t helping his hectic mind. Perhaps something had happened to her?

Oh god, maybe someone broke in and had injured Dasom?

The doors are thrown open, the sound of the doorknob hitting the wall reverberating through the room. The receptionist wearing her usual polka-dot dress jumps in her seat, eyes lifting from the intense scene on her phone to the entrance of the building. An unsure smile stretches across her ruby red lips at the familiar figure, though a bit disheveled and breathless. But before the customary ‘hello’ can even form on her tongue, the figure is rushing past her, leaving only a gust of air in his wake. The papers on her desk fall to the ground, and she sighs.

Namjoon is prepared to fight the (fictional) person who thinks breaking into a toddler ballet class is a good idea, but the scene in front of him once he pushes past the doors of the studio is one he is wholly unprepared for.

He sees Dasom first, and the relief that fills his body is indescribable. It’s far from the usual sight he’s greeted with when he picks her up late. She’s not sitting on one of the chairs in the far corner of the room. His heart doesn’t feel heavy, which comes with seeing his daughter so glum. This time it’s her laughter that greets him, not one provoked by him but by the figure standing in the middle of the room with her.

Dasom doesn’t seem to be aware of the presence of her dad yet, but the figure twirling her around turns, and her eyes land on Namjoon.

The reaction is immediate. The carefree smile that had been on your face slips off, a look of embarrassment and surprise overcoming your features. Namjoon only catches a glimpse, and somehow finds himself wishing that won’t be the last time he sees it. You let go of Dasom’s hand, quickly making your way to the stereo on the other side of the room. And that’s when-

“Daddy!”

Dasom wastes no time running into her father’s open arms, and Namjoon suddenly can’t remember why he was so worried in the first place. “Hi, angel.” he says, just loud enough for her to hear. She pulls back. “I’m so sorry for getting here so late. I promise i won’t do it again.”

But of course, Dasom holds nothing but forgiveness in her heart for her hard-working father. She does love teasing him, though. “Don't say sorry to me, say sorry to her.” she giggles, pointing behind her and Namjoon furrows his brow until he remembers they’re not the only ones in the room.

His eyes immediately move to where you stand awkwardly near the stereo, eyes moving around the room as if you hadn’t been watching the whole exchange. Namjoon sighs, realizing he definitely can’t avoid talking to you now. He stands straight, holding onto Dasom’s hand as he makes his way over to you. You only seem to grow more nervous as he nears, and Namjoon distantly recalls Jin telling him he came off as intimidating to most people. Something about his ‘beefy’ arms, in his own words. (“And that stupid and unfairly attractive face!”) He goes for a smile because it's not like he can control his physique.

“Hi, I’m so sorry about…”

Namjoon stops.

Maybe it was the overwhelming distress before, or the really shitty lighting of the studio, but he hadn’t realized how pretty you were before. But now he’s standing right in front of you and he can’t seem to form a coherent thought. Pretty can’t be the right word. He realizes how creepy he probably looks, running in here like a madman and then downright staring at the (very beautiful) woman who looked after his daughter? Not cool, man.

You clear your throat, before extending a hand to him. “Hi, I’m ____, the new ballet instructor.”

Your voice sounds just like honey.

Namjoon stares at your hand dumbly, before the sound of Dasom snickering (very discreetly) behind him snaps him out of it. But instead of introducing himself, or apologizing, or just taking your fucking hand, he says-

“What happened to Ms. Kim?”

He mentally face-palms.

Not. Cool. Man.

Your face falls, and Namjoon has never wanted the ground to open up and swallow him whole more than he does now. “Uh, she’s instructing the teen class now.” you chuckle awkwardly, dropping your hand.

“Oh-”

“Daaaad,” Dasom's voice sounds annoyed, and perhaps it’s a bit silly of Namjoon to feel like he’s being scolded, but that is exactly how he feels right now. “I told you this. In the morning. Remember?”

He doesn’t. “Ah, right of course,” Namjoon scratches the back of his neck. It wasn’t like he meant to forget, he had just been too busy thinking about the other things every September would bring. “Sorry, I’m Kim Namjoon. Dasom’s dad.”

This time he offers his hand, and he thanks the skies above that you don’t seem to hate him because you fit your hand against his. Warm, like honey. How long had it been since he last made a fool of himself in front of a pretty girl?

Too long.

“I’m terribly sorry for arriving so late it’s just that my boss, who’s a huge-” Namjoon glances at Dasom, who is now in her own world, singing some song she learned in school, “jerk, decided to assign these reports last minute and the printer would just not work and then traffic hour-”

Your hand comes up to cover your mouth, but Namjoon can see the amusement bubbling in your eyes. He flushes a deep red, eyes falling to the floor, realizing he started ranting.

“It’s okay. Really.”

When he looks back up, there’s a smile on your face. Not like the one before, this one was more reserved, but genuine, reassuring. And just like that, he’s sure you don’t hate him.

Namjoon’s not sure he likes this feeling though.

“Straighten your arms out, girls!” you belt over the classical music that floods the studio’s walls, scanning your army of toddlers in tutus whose arms immediately tense at your command. Making your way through the row, you poke and prod everywhere from their shoulders to their ankles. “Arch your back more, Somin.”

Their muscles violently tremble in response to the strenuous routine you’ve introduced, facial features scrunched in concentration and a resolute will to uphold their positions despite the hyperextension of their limbs. A mix of pity and pride swells in your chest at their effort. “Keep your chins up, the annual recital is only a couple of days away.”

Cheers erupt throughout the small room, disrupting the focus and spoiling their perfect form, yet you refuse to quiet excitement because of the renewed vigour buzzing throughout the room. The next hour depletes all of their built-up energy with demi-piles, pirouettes and sautés.

A glance at the analog clock in the corner informs you of the five minutes remaining before the end of class, so you pause the speakers and instruct the girls to stretch themselves out as they wait for their guardians to trickle in. They collectively sigh in relief before dropping to the floor like flies.

You snort at their dramatics with an amused smile playing at your lips. “I said to stretch, not to lay down and nap.”

“Can’t we nap and stretch at the same time?”

Strolling over to the source of the voice, you cluck your tongue at her limp form sprawled across the wooden floor and cross your arms, struggling to keep your giggles from breaking your angered facade. “And how do you suppose we do that, little Miss Dasom?”

She flashes her toothless grin up at you. “Like this!” With one leg bent over the other and her hands looping around to hold her twisted limbs to her torso, she shuts her eyes and exaggerates her snores.

At this point, it’s nearly impossible to withhold your snickers, and the rest of the class joins in your laughter. You pick up on Dasom’s tinkling giggles between each of her heavy breaths. The lighthearted jokes continue as kids are signed out with bright grins on each of their faces.

You wait for the rest of the toddlers to file out one by one, waving goodbye and checking them off your list until, as usual, Dasom is the only toddler left. Her tiny feet still clad in her faded ballet shoes waddle up to you, tugging on your blouse.

“Your pirouette was a bit wobbly today, do you want to go over—”

“‘M tired,” she interrupts, slouching her shoulders with an adorable frown marring her lips. Her exhaustion is justified, since the routine is rather exhausting, and with their recital right around the corner, you worked them to the bone today.

The odd timing of the switch between you and Ms. Kim left you with a little under a week to tweak and perfect their current choreography. A sloppy routine is not the way you want to present your skills to their parents for the first time, thus you were stricter with the kids than normal.

Your sympathy wins out, and so you gather Dasom’s lithe figure into your arms as you head to the closest wall. With your back supported, you spread out your legs and place her in your lap.

“My birthday is this Thursday.”

“Mhm,” you hum, bobbing your head to signal for her to continue her train of thought.

Her back faces you, but when her head tips down to stare at her hands, you know she’s contemplating her words carefully. Rather than encouraging her to speak freely, you wait for her to feel comfortable enough to reveal her thoughts; and surely enough, her shell cracks open just enough for you to peep through. “Do you wanna come?”

“I would be honoured.” A giddy smile splits across your lips. “Is Daddy picking you up again today?”

She flips around in your hold, wrapping her arms around your waist and snuggling her head to your chest. Her words are muffled into the fabric of your thin shirt, but her tone indicates her affirmation.

Suddenly self-conscious of your heartbeat—that Dasom can definitely hear with her ear pressed up against you—picking up pace at the mention of her father, you suppress your thoughts with a guilty conscience. You internally chide yourself for harbouring feelings for the charming, taken, man, defying arguably one of the most important fundamental rules of becoming an instructor.

Do not develop silly crushes on your student’s parents.

“Ms. ____?” her faint question snaps you out of your reverie, attention brought back to the present moment. While preoccupied, your hand took on a mind of its own, gingerly patting the space between the little girl’s shoulder blades at a slow rhythm.

She gazes up at you when you halt your rhythmic movements, sharp eyes boring into yours. “Are you gonna ask Daddy to come see me dance?”

The edges of your lips flip up in what you hope to be an encouraging smile as you nod your head. Subconsciously, you begin to stress over another encounter with Namjoon, formulating a script to hopefully avoid the stiff, tense atmosphere that lingered throughout all your previous interactions.

“Daddy’s always really busy,” she slurs, drowsiness coating her words and weighing down on her lids. Grumbling under her breath about her numb legs, Dasom crawls onto the floor beside you with her head resting on your thigh. “He’s always working hard for me.”

Your eyes soften at the fetal position she’s taken up on the ground; not only was Dasom lucky to have such a dedicated father, but Namjoon was also blessed with a caring daughter. “You don’t think he can make it?”

“It’s okay,” she whispers and you have to crane your ears to listen. You stroke the strands littering her forehead, gingerly caressing the crown of her head. “It’s okay if Daddy can’t come. I know him, he’s trying to do it all because Mommy’s not with us anymore, but it’s okay. I still love him even if I can’t see him lots.”

A knot forms between your eyebrows, a bittersweet ache forming within the creases of your heart. The painful constriction of your chest ebbs and flows with your shallow breaths that can’t seem to make it past your throat. You bite your lip to subdue the plentiful liquid gathering at your waterline.

No more than a croak escapes your lips before the door to the studio flies open, meeting the adjacent wall with a bang!

“I’m so sorry, my meeting ran late and I couldn’t—” the rest of his speech gets stuck in his windpipe at the sight of you, eyes rimmed red and sniffling, with Dasom, ostensibly dead asleep, on your thigh. “Did she…?”

You blink away your incoming tears, although your dignity has been completely thrown out the window, seeing as he believes that his four-year-old kid made a grown woman, who just so happens to be her ballet teacher, bawl her eyes out.

As you go to gently shake Dasom awake, she sluggishly lifts her head off of your lap and starts to scale your torso like a koala on a tree. Your confusion is vocalized through the high-pitched hum in your throat, but your efforts to pry off her limbs, tightly wound around the small of your waist, are futile.

“Uh, Dasom? It’s time to go home now, angel.” Despite his firm words, Namjoon’s tone is unsure and shaky; he can feel cold sweat build up in the lines of his palms. He knows his daughter, and she can be periodically stubborn and insistent the way children are at her age, thus even as you come to stand, she’s stuck to you like glue. “Would you, uh, did you need a ride?”

You mimic the sheepish smile on his face, hoping the flaming blush you feel on your cheeks isn’t as visible as it seems. “Sure.”

With Dasom latched onto you, both of you make your way to the red car outside after you lock up the studio. Namjoon courteously opens the car door for you, what with your arms supporting his clingy toddler; although, with the brute force he uses, you worry for the state of the hinges. Thankfully, they stay intact and he’s able to slip into the backseat after you.

Before an awkward silence can settle, you clear your throat and prepare to ask him about his day, but you’re interjected by Namjoon’s sudden stammering, “D-driving’s such a hassle for me so Jin drives us everywhere. Jin knows how to drive though, so, don’t worry.” He finishes with a deep chuckle that dies off nearly as quickly as it began. Oh, that’s unexpected.

“You don’t to drive yourself?” Rather than being processed in your brain and logically thought through, the question immediately enters your mouth without any prior scanning for dumbass-content. You instantly regret it, feeling as though it’s much too invasive. “You don’t have to answer that, I—”

The hearty laughter that meets your ears is “No, I do. Sometimes. But its easier raising this one like this.” His tone turns sweet at the mention of Dasom as he reaches over to pat her head, and you’re overcome with an intense desire to prod more into his personal life. Why does he have to work so much? Which shirt in his closet is his favourite? How does he like his eggs in the morning?

“I’m not sure if you already knew about the annual recital on Saturday, but Dasom’s been practicing really hard for weeks and the kids are all really talented, so it would definitely be worth your time...”

As he’s gazing at his daughter, galaxies of devotion and longing swirl within his cocoa irises. The cool light of the moon shines through the windows of the car, illuminating his sharp jawline and strong brows. You’re absolutely mesmerized by the sight in front of you. “You must be really busy, huh?”

“More than I’d like to be.”

You rip your entranced gaze away from Namjoon, willing yourself to steady your frantic breaths.

The remainder of the ride still drips with awkward tension, although with a definite lighter tone than before. Jin pulls up to your apartment with your direction and you dislodge a sleepy Dasom from your torso, which is much easier now that her limbs have gone slack with sleep. Handing her off to Namjoon, who practically engulfs her tiny form with his broad chest, you rush out of the vehicle with a quick, “See you!”

You slam the door closed before he can say anything, racing into the comfort of your home with your heart in your throat.

The last thing you had expected to do on a Thursday evening was to go to a birthday dinner. Thursdays are your days off, your in-days. The ones you spend lounging on your couch with a face mask and some wine. And yet, here you are.

When you received a text this morning, the last person you had expected it to be was Namjoon. Much less Namjoon asking you to come over for Dasom’s birthday. You weren’t going to say yes, hell, you had thought of downright ignoring it. It was weird, wasn’t it? But Dasom had quickly carved a toddler-shaped hole into your heart. Truly, you had said yes before the message was even typed out.

And so now you stare at the tall apartment building in front of you, definitely feeling more nervous than before. You knew that Namjoon had to be well-off to afford a weekday chauffeur, but damn did you not expect him to be this well-off.

It seemed today was the day to expect absolutely anything.

You enter the opulent building, signing in at the front desk before entering the large, mirrored elevator. The beating of your heart picks up the more floors you pass, and you can’t help but fidget with your appearance. Namjoon had said it would only be you three, which you guessed was supposed to calm your nerves but really, it did anything but that. The mere thought of eating dinner with Namjoon was nerve-wracking. But now you were about to eat dinner and enter his home; you had no fucking clue what you were getting yourself into.

The doors slide open, and you step into the hallway. A single door could be seen at the end of the hallway, so you quickly make your way over. You stop right in front, taking a deep breath in before pushing the doorbell. A beat, a crash, another beat, then-

The door swings open, and your breath catches in your throat.

Namjoon looks heavenly as always, but seeing him in clothes other than his usual black slacks makes your heart do a cartwheel. God, this is dangerous.

“Ms. ____!”

Before Namjoon can form a hello, Dasom is running past him and wrapping her small arms around your legs. “You came! See daddy! I told you she’d come.” her tongue pokes out of her mouth, aimed straight at her father and you stifle a laugh.

“Did he think I wouldn’t?” you ask, eyebrow arched as you glance at Namjoon, who seems to have a permanent pink hue on his face.

“He said you wouldn’t!”

“Oh, really? What else did he say?”

“He said I had to help him clean either way!”

“Alright, Dasom. That’s enough.” He says firmly, clearing his throat and trying to act as unaffected as possible. His eyes shift to meet yours. “Why don’t you come inside?”

As much as this day really sucked for Namjoon, today had been… different. Not all too much. Of course, getting up was the hardest part, but he had decided to make Dasom her favourite breakfast meal instead of her usual cereal. He had also made sure to get her all the toys she had been wanting, and planned their day out to do Dasom’s favourite things. Namjoon just wanted this day to be special for her. That was all he cared about.

But when Dasom had asked him to invite you, he had hesitated.

Dasom had never spent her birthdays with anyone else but Namjoon. Not that it was intentional, but Namjoon liked to have this day just for the both of them. Because that’s how it’s always been. He didn’t know what it was about you that made his daughter talk about you all the time. Or why she wanted to spend a birthday with you. But how could he deny her? And so, the text was sent.

And now, as Namjoon puts away the dishes while you sit on his couch, he realizes he hadn’t thought of her today. Not as much as the years before. Dinner had been so... nice. It felt nice to have someone else around. Namjoon loves Dasom, but he hadn’t realized how distant he had gotten from everything that had once seemed to be the centre of his life.

Namjoon closes the dishwasher, exiting the kitchen and making his way to the living room. He places the two glasses on the table before pouring the dark red liquid.

“I hope you like Merlot.”

“Oh, please. Anything’s fine.”

You take the wine glass, sending him a thank you before taking a drink. “So,” you lean back, “remind me how to play this again.”

“Ms.____ I told you. You have to take a block without knocking the tower over,” Dasom shows you by pushing a middle wooden block out, “then you have to place it on top, like this.'' She places the same block on top of the tower.

“Ah, right! I just need to make sure if I want to win.”

“You can’t! I’m the best!”

“Oh really? And what about you?” you turn, brow raised and eyes playful.

“Pshh,” he scoffs, leaning forward. “Who do you think she takes after?”

He doesn’t think he’s ever lost a game so quickly.

Namjoon watches as you close Dasom’s door quietly from the hallway before you make your way back to the family room. “She’s out like a light. I guess all that tower building got to her.”

Namjoon snorts. He feels oddly disappointed as he watches you gather your things to go. Was it weird that he wanted you to stay? “Do you need me to get you a ride? I can call Jin to drive you home.”

“No, it’s fine! Really! I already ordered an Uber anyway.” You grab your coat near the door. Before Namjoon can unlock the door, you touch his shoulder. “Listen, thank you for inviting me today. I know you probably wanted to spend this day together instead, but I... “ you inhale, because you aren’t sure of what you want to actually say “thank you.”

Would it be weird to say how much better you made today? Probably. “You don’t… have to thank me. I think I should be the one doing the thanking. I really wanted this day to be special for Dasom and you… you definitely helped. So, thank you.”

The door opens, and the light of the hallway fills his dim flat. “Guess we’re even then.” you smile before turning, making your way to the elevator. Namjoon shuts the door once the sight of you is gone, but the smile on his face remains

“Guess we are.” he whispers wistfully

Perhaps stopping at a flower vendor when you’re already running late was a bad idea, but Namjoon wasn’t thinking about time. He had seen the bouquet of flowers and imagined the huge smile that would stretch across Dasom’s face, and that was all he needed to swerve into the left lane.

Now, though, as he anxiously watches the cars in front of him move a foot forward after thirty minutes, he’s sure he should have just left the fucking flowers alone.

Namjoon doesn’t know how long he’s been shifting his eyes from the traffic to the watch ticking around his wrist, but by a miracle, the cars start moving. Slowly, then he’s speeding down the highway, praying to the skies above he’ll make it in time. Even if he arrives in the midst of the dance, he can’t miss this recital. He won’t.

He sighs in relief when he sees the familiar glass building, though it’s cut short when he sees the parking lot. No available place in sight. Fuck. Namjoon is sure he looks insane right now, swerving around the parking lot in search for an empty spot, or really just any fucking spot that looks like it could fit his monster of a car.

Then the clouds seem to open up, and right near the entrance is a vacant spot. Namjoon swears his mouth almost waters at the sight. Quickly speeding around the lot, he parks, but not before flipping off the angry parent who tries to beat him to it. Namjoon exits his car, quickly grabbing his coat and the large bouquets of flowers from the backseat. He runs to the entrance, practically throwing the shriveled paper at the ticket clerk.

Namjoon slows as he nears the theatre doors, taking a deep breath before calmly opening it. He had completely forgotten to book seats in advance, so he’s not surprised to see the velvet seats filled to the brim. When he looks to the stage, he’s relieved to see that there’s still time until Dasom comes on.

Now, Namjoon knows he’s not the most… balanced person. It’s common knowledge that he trips over his feet and knocks things over sometimes. (Oh, but definitely more than the average person.) Now, if you were to ask Namjoon if he pays attention to his surroundings, he'd say yes.

But if you were to ask Namjoon what he tripped over, he wouldn’t know. It doesn’t matter, because now there’s a furious mother with a horrendous bob cut glaring at him, and what he thinks to be a broken camcorder on the floor. The only thing he can manage is an awkward smile and an even more awkward apology. Namjoon offers to give her the cost for repairs, hell, even offers to buy her a new one. The woman snatches the bills from his hands but she doesn’t go back to minding her business like he thought she would. No, instead she starts to argue with him, in the middle of her child’s recital, no less!

Namjoon can’t do anything but stare at her as she blabbers on about how horrible he is for throwing her camcorder on the floor. (Not like it had much life left, that thing looked like it was from 2007.) She’s damn near spitting on his face, and causing other parents to turn around and glare at them. As if it was his fault. Who knew she had such an attachment to the damn thing!

A hand lands on his shoulder, and for a second he’s sure it’s security ready to escort him out of the building. But when he turns, he’s surprised to see it’s you. Like an angel had ascended from the clouds to save Namjoon from the wrath of a ballet mom. And just like that, you’re leading him away, taking a seat two rows before the stage. Namjoon’s eyes widen at the sight of the empty seat beside you.

It’s that feeling again, and Namjoon’s palms start to get sweaty as he takes a seat. “Jesus, thank you for that,” he whispers, relishing your quiet laughter that follows.

“Of course. She was probably a blink away from going full-blown Karen on you.” you tease.

“Oh, and that wasn’t?”

“Oh, Joon, you haven’t seen how angry ballet moms can get.” you both laugh, huddled together as if you’re sharing a special secret. It seems so natural. As if this is where he’s supposed to be. So much that Namjoon almost doesn’t catch the nickname, but how could he miss it when you say it just like she used to?

The stage lights darken, and Namjoon is grateful for the excuse to look elsewhere. He’s sure if he would have stared at you for just a bit longer, he would have done something completely and utterly stupid. “This is her.” you whisper, and Namjoon buries the thought away.

A blue hue shines across the stage before the soft melody begins to play, filling the room with the sounds of strings and keys. One by one, tiny swans begin to come into view, prancing around the stage. Namjoon catches sight of Dasom, looking adorable in her white tutu and he can’t help the proud smile that makes its way onto his face. He watches with adoration as she does her pirouettes, and maybe there’s some water overflowing in his eyes as they finish their dance, bowing towards the audience.

You both stand, clapping and cheering the loudest, uncaring of the stares from the snobby rich parents because you’re both too damn proud of Dasom to care. For a moment, Namjoon pretends that it’s different, simpler. That it’s not only his child on stage but yours. Ours. He thinks he likes the sound of that too much.

Once the show ends, you lead Namjoon backstage where the buzz of dozens of girls talking fills the air. You tell him that you need to check in on the other kids and disappear through a hallway. He spots Dasom quickly, or rather, she spots him.

“Daddy! You came!”

Namjoon lifts Dasom with his free arm, twirling her around before placing a big kiss on her forehead. Her giggles fill him with delight, and he doesn’t care that his cheeks hurt from how hard he’s been smiling. “Of course I came, angel. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

He places her on the ground before he grabs the bouquet of sunflowers from his other arm. The sight of her favourite flower makes Dasom jump with joy. She takes the flowers, and Namjoon silently coos at how much smaller they make her look. Then she spots the other bouquet of flowers in his arm. She scrunches her brows together, about to ask who those are for before her eyes catch something behind Namjoon.

“Ms. ____!”

“Dasom!”

Dasom jumps into your arms, and you laugh at her enthusiasm. “You did so well! I’m so proud of that pirouette!” You twirl her around once her feet hit the ground, smiling as you watch her stumble slightly. Namjoon can’t help but smile too.

“Look what daddy got me, Ms. ____! Look!” Dasom lifts the flowers up, almost shoving them into your face.

“Wow, these are very beautiful, Dasom!”

“Look! He got you some too!” she giggles, and you look at her confusedly then at Namjoon. He sighs, looking pointedly at Dasom despite the cherry hue making its way across his cheeks. She giggles once again before running to her friends. “Dasom!” but it's futile.

If it weren’t for the consistent chatter, Namjoon’s sure there would be an agonizing silence to fill the space between you. You walk closer to him, looking down at your shoes bashfully. “Ah, these-” he takes the bouquet from his arm, “these are for you.”

You looked surprised to say the least. Eyes wide and glassy, your mouth falling ajar. “Wow, uh, really?” you ask, glancing up from the bouquet. He nods shyly.

Listen, he had only planned to buy Dasom her favourite flowers. But then he caught sight of these beautiful yellow roses, tips painted a light amber orange. Somehow they reminded him of you. And the way you had left him with his heart feeling lighter for the first time in years the other night. Maybe it was a way of saying thank you. He’ll admit, he didn’t think it all the way through, but the way you’re smiling at him right now makes him think it wouldn’t have mattered anyway.

There’s a moment where it seems to just be you and him, despite the tons of parents and children running around. He’s only focused on you, and the way your eyes drop to his lips, if only for a millisecond. Namjoon wants to say it. God, he wants to say it so badly. “Listen I… I’ve been meaning to ask you,” his voice fades away as his eyes catch yours. Hopeful. Beautiful. Glimmering.

Just like hers.

“Do you, uh, need a ride home?”

And the bubble bursts.

You step away, looking at anything but him and he hates it. He despises it. He wants you to look at him like that again. He wants nothing more than to pull you back and kiss you senselessly, like his mind is screaming for him to do. But he can’t. He can’t do it for some fucking reason and he almost wants to cry in frustration because why can’t this just be easier? Why is it so hard to move on? You don’t deserve this. You deserve so much better than what he can offer you. And that thought keeps him still.

“Uh, sure.”

Quiet.

Say something, idiot! Tell her what you’ve been dying to say! Just fucking say it!

Namjoon hates himself for the next words that tumble out of his mouth.

“Let’s find Dasom.”

The drive to your house is just like it was before, except this time there’s no chatter to fill the emptiness. Dasom is sound asleep in the backseat. You've never seemed more distant than now, facing the window, body pressed against the door. You had almost begged to go in the back with Dasom, and Namjoon doesn’t know why he didn’t just let you.

How did it come to this? This wasn’t what he wanted. This night wasn’t supposed to go like this. Everything should have gone differently.

He doesn’t know how he’ll ever fix this. If things will go back to normal. If he completely ruined it. But he’s too afraid to ask. Too afraid to know.

Namjoon has never hated the quiet more.

The sight of your apartment complex fills him with dread. All he can think about is all he wants to say, all he should have said, all he wants to take back. God, Namjoon wishes he could take it back. If only there was a way to turn back the time. Why had he been so afraid to make a move? Why did it hurt so much? But he knows going back wouldn’t help. Not when he doesn’t know if he would have done it differently.

His car comes to a stop, and the doors unlock. He faintly catches the small thank you before the passenger door slams shut. Namjoon watches as you make your way up the pathway, feet moving briskly and it feels like he’s watching you walk away from him.

You’re shuffling through your bag, looking for your key. And fuck, is he really just going to this go? Is he that stubborn that he can’t see past himself? He can’t. He can’t let you go. Not like this.

Well do something, dumbass!

The door of his car is thrown open, and before he can overthink it-

“____!”

You still. You turn.

Namjoon shuts the door. He walks up the steps and stops a few feet away from you, but he feels like he’s miles away. You look up at him, questioning. Your eyes aren’t the same ones. Not like you looked at him before. Yet they’re still warm. Inviting. Namjoon is tongue-tied, and all those words he wanted to say are gone now.

“Are we… good?”

“Why wouldn’t we be?”

“I just…” he scratches the back of his neck. “That moment back at the recital. I… I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” you say, simply. When he looks at you, he can’t tell what you’re feeling. You’ve blocked him off. “Namjoon, really. It’s fine.”

But is it really? He wants to ask. But he doesn’t. It’s quiet again, this time the sound of the wind rustling the browning leaves above filling the space. Still.

“I… god, I don’t know why this is so hard. Ever since, you know,” you don’t. “I… I didn’t think I'd ever get an opportunity to…” he inhales, unsure of what he wants to say first.

“I just feel like I ruined it so carelessly.”

You don’t say anything for a few moments. You only stare at him, really stare at him. Like you can see through his mirage, through the walls he’s spent so long building up. You’re taking it all, but there’s nothing he can take back from you.

“You didn’t.” you whisper it so quietly, Namjoon would have thought his mind had taken pity on him. But a smile slips onto your face. Unlike the other ones. It doesn’t fill him with joy. It doesn’t give him butterflies. This one hurts.

And he knows you’re telling the truth.

“This… It might take a while.”

The wind picks up. The leaves rustle. The cold, biting.

“That’s ok. I’ll wait as long as you need me to.”

Your lips are bittersweet on his tongue.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY AGAIN TO KARLA !! ILYYYY <3

#bangtanhq #btsbookclub #ficswithluv #btsguild #btsgoldnet #cypherwritersnet #namjoon x reader #namjoon angst #kim namjoon x reader #kim namjoon x you #bts x reader #namjoon fanfic

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7wanderingpaws · 4 years ago

Text

He Loves Love (3/3)

Pairing: Baekhyun x reader

Genre: solo singer! AU

Word count: 4K+

Warnings: none! just a playful Baek!

--- Please make sure to read the the notes at the end! ---

Masterlist

tags: @iloveagain @buttercupbbh @wooya1224 @baekberrie (sorry if I left out someone? its been ages since i updated and I didnt know if its okay to tag those who commented on chap. 2 :( didnt want to be rude ><)

1 <<< 2 <<< 3

It was the day of the release. The release of his magazine cover.

The PR went… mad.

“Listen, sweetie, editor, I don't think we will have enough pieces. The damn thing is literally going to be sold out in a matter of hours.”

You received this call before lunch time. Lunch time was very early on in the day. So why was Baekhyun's magazine cover about to be sold out in the entirety of Korea on the same day of the release date?

“Erm, yeah about that. I am an editor, just like you said. You need to call the-”

“I know, I know,” she interrupted but there wasn't an inch of impatience in her voice. “What I am trying to say is - congratulations! You did a great job!”

It took you a moment to realize what she was saying, because she was right. Your participation in this issue was big; after all you took care of the props and settings and you were looking over his pictures during the photoshoot. Out of nowhere, your heartbeat sped up. “Oh, thank you! That's very kind of you, but I still need to improve a lot-”

In that moment, the happy ding! that never failed to make you all trembly and nervous, sounded on your desk.

Waiter: miss editor am I seeing correctly????? wowow ihavenowords

Waiter: did you just make me sell out your magazine?????? ihavenowords

Waiter: did you save yourself at least one piece??? huhuuhuhuuu ihavenowords ><

Waiter: i think someone just made themselves a good name in the mag industry ^^ congratulations!!!

Waiter: does that mean i will get to see you? hmmm maybe to give a congratulatory bouquet of flowers???? 🤭🤭🤭 🌹💐🌺

Biting your lip quickly to suppress the happy grin, you quickly attended to the phone call, chatting a bit more with the PR lady. Honestly, you didn't like to talk to them much as they were all over the place, too demanding and didn’t have a great understanding of a creative mind. Thankfully, you didn't have to deal with them too often.

It hadn't been that long since your last meeting with Baekhyun. His kisses on your cheek and one kiss on your forehead seemed to be still burning on your skin, sometimes making you drag the pad of your index finger over the mentioned places, needing some sort of closure from him that you had yet to receive.

Texting now was a full on habit between you, causing you to become sad, disappointed and even anxious if he wouldn’t reply that soon, worried he changed his mind about you, and his feelings towards you. Because even though you admitted to him that you liked him, he was being still very cautious, still very polite with you, as if there was some sort of invisible line between you two that he was scared to cross, for some reason.

Trying to look at it from his point of view, there were many risks of him wanting a relationship with you, and you couldn't not agree. If anything, you were being thankful for his thoughtfulness and carefulness, for if he messed up even the tiniest bit around you and your secret meetings of a blooming start of a relationship, he would not see the end of the hate, and neither would you. Heck, his career was on the line.

You managed to reply to his playful messages that went on and on, before you would have to dive into another cover magazine plan that you had to start thinking through.

Me: I think I should congratulate YOU! the most wanted man in Korea it seems ;)

Me: these days i have some important meetings… an upcoming cover… im definitely doing overtime today :( when is it good for you? I will try to arrange my schedule with yours

Waiter: ohoh the most wanted man you say? i wonder if the one i want wants me just as much…….???

Waiter: i would like to see you more often before my album drops, you know i will get quite busy and not seeing you for too long doesnt seem to work well with me anymore ><

Waiter: sooo… i will come pick you up from work tonight just shoot me a msg *^

Just as his messages could make your heartbeat go into a crazy overdrive, it seemed he could also make it completely stop. Or so you thought. His flirting and now his proposal to pick you up gave you a huge shock. That would be a first for sure.

Me: sure! have your phone with you Mr Korea

Me: I wonder too if that person wants you as much ;)

You decided not to pay him any more attention after that as much as you were tempted. Your belly was levitating along with your body, feeling high on vitamin Baekhyun. Pressing down the urge to tease him, you put your phone away, your hands slightly trembly from the attention you kept receiving from someone like him.

If your predictions were even close to correct, you wanted to tell him: yes, the one that he wanted, wanted him just as much.

…

You were fast to leave your work that day. Excited butterflies were eating your insides away, and the only way to make them calm down was to finally meet the person who always made their wings flutter.

Baekhyun was already parked in the underground parking lot, his car the only one with the motor on - and the only car of his class. You spotted him sitting in his car in his white jersey shirt, his left elbow propped on the windowsill as his index finger was stuck between his teeth, gnawing at it. When he saw you, he took a double-take and quickly changed his posture which made you giggle.

Baekhyun was following you with his eyes, going even to the length of leaning in over the passenger seat so as not to lose sight of you until he reached over and opened the passenger door for you so you could slide in.

“Why, thank you,” you smiled cheerfully as you sat down. You closed the door and put your bag down in between your legs.

“My pleasure,” he said back with a pleasant smile. “Hand me the bag, I'll put it in the backseat.”

You quickly did as he asked and then reached for your seatbelt.

“How was work today? We should celebrate!” he exclaimed as he put the car into drive and made his way out of the parking lot.

You hummed, gnawing on your lip. “That would be wonderful,” you said but hesitated about offering anything further. It was difficult to read the situation; you wouldn't know what you could afford to do with him and what not; what would be stepping over the line and what wouldn't. But Baekhyun said he liked you. In fact, he even told you to look at him like at any other man. That meant you shouldn't doubt all the possible hang-out ideas you had, right?

“I think it is you who deserves a gift,” you murmured and stole a look at his concentrated face. You reached the outside now, the dark evening slowly changing into night, the light of passing cars illuminating your faces.

“Hmm, I think so, too. Something in lines of - I can pick whatever I want, huh?”

Hiding your smile behind your hand, you nodded. “Yes, I can grant something. But don't make it expensive. Even though you sold out our magazine, it doesn't mean I will get a pay rise right away.”

“Oh, it won't include any monetary value,” he promised and turned to look at you when he stopped at the red light, the line in front of you seemingly going on for at least a mile. “It would be something you can and should be able to do freely.”

Despite the darkness of the car, Baekhyun could still spot that gorgeous, astounding blush colouring your cheeks. He really grew to love it; to make you so flustered you couldn't help but grow all red, just for him. “What do you think?” he asked quietly, still observing you with a small lopsided smile.

First you looked at your connected hands in your lap and then looked up at him through your lashes. “Depends what it is, but I owe you, so…” you trailed off.

He chuckled quietly, causing your heart to skip a beat before he started driving again, the line in front slowly moving. “Wonderful.”

Within forty-five minutes, you found yourself seated in a Korean restaurant, both yours and Baekhyun's shoes left at the entrance. Baekhyun, knowing the owner, asked for a separate room where people usually held business dinners, to ensure you would have full privacy and could enjoy each other.

It was a bit mind-blowing how much he could just do. His authority was admirable but at the same time it reminded you how you could hardly compare. If you would have asked the owner to give you a separate room, you might have had to fight for it or give him some money. Baekhyun seemed to walk in like a prince, confidently talking to people as if it was so natural.

“Can you give me a moment?” he asked suddenly, already standing up. “I forgot something in the car. Choose a meal until then.”

You nodded and saw him shuffling towards the door. Quickly going through the menu, you were thankful it was just an ordinary Korean restaurant that specializes in noodle soups and wasn't pricey. Picking the one that seemed the most special, you put the menu away just in time for Baekhyun to return back. His right hand was behind his back, obviously hiding something.

He had a sheepish smile on his face as he stepped towards you and handed you a beautiful bouquet of colourful flowers, the smell of which instantly hit your nose. You felt your mouth stretch into a wide smile as you stood up to your feet.

“Oh my god, what is this for, Baekhyun?” you asked, looking up into his eyes just to find them sparkling with anticipation.

“I know I never asked you out on an official date, so I might not be dressed up to my best potential, but I really wanted to give you something and today, as I said, I wanted to give you a bouquet. Please, accept it,” he added breathily, watching you with bated breath, nudging the flowers out to you.

You giggled and he smiled right away as you took the bouquet in your hand, careful as to not hold his fingers that were still curled around the stems. “Thank you.”

As you wanted to pull back, he leaned in, grabbing your wrist gently that was holding the flowers, bringing you closer. His lips hovered over your cheek and he eventually pressed them there. “Good job on your first cover,” he murmured and leaned away the slightest to watch your surprised reaction. Your eyes were watching his mouth and he had to restrain himself from going any further. He didn't want to cross the line. Not yet.

Unfortunately, you had to separate when the doors opened and the waiter came in. She was taken aback for the slightest of moments when she noticed you and Baekhyun backing away from each other but both of you recovered quickly and sat down, ready to order.

“This Vietnamese noodle soup is my favourite,” mentioned Baekhyun, looking at you. “So that is your gift to me - eating my favorite food with me.”

…

It was late June, the beginning of the most humid weeks of the year with the monsoon season around the corner.

Baekhyun became so busy with the release of his album back in May, that you rarely got to see him afterwards, although he made sure to see you a couple of times per week even if he was on the verge of falling asleep. Besides meeting, you were always chatting on the phone, him updating you about his daily schedules while you would mostly talk and send pictures about the same old stuff - your office, your computer screen or your late lunch. Or a selfie. You were on that basis now, despite a first kiss never happening.

It made you think sometimes if you were the one who was supposed to make the first move. If you grew eager to finally feel him in that way, then he must have also had some similar feelings, right? You had been dying to kiss him since the first time he said he liked you. And it was late June now.

Late June meant that the music awards show was happening just this particular night. Baekhyun had been texting you eager messages to double-check that you would really be attending like you told him you would.

While you quickly looked yourself over in the mirror in your office - you worked even today, a Saturday - you checked your phone's screen, seeing the previews of his messages.

Waiter: finally our schedules overlap ❤️ Waiter: i cant actually believe it Waiter: huhuhuhu missy are you done with preparing? im curious to see.... Waiter: its just that it would be difficult to do so without it…

Hastily checking your earrings, you read the previews with a large smile. It would be an exciting night.

When you arrived at the event along with your colleagues, you couldn't help feeling clammy from the excitement. The possibility of spotting Baekhyun was making you sick with anticipation. It wasn't even the amount of people attending the event, it was just him; just the idea that he was somewhere there and hopefully he was looking for you just like you were looking for him.

Your colleagues hurried to sit down as the ceremony was about to start. Since you were busy in the office, you ended up leaving the headquarters much later than planned, but there was nothing you could do about it anymore.

The lights dimmed just when you made yourself comfortable, making it too difficult to look around and recognize faces. Deciding to quickly check the messages you didn't have time to look at before, you finally saw what Baekhyun was bombarding you so much about.

Waiter: finally our schedules overlap Waiter: i cant actually believe it Waiter: huhuhuhu missy are you done with preparing? im curious to see how you look so you could send me a selfie and so then i can recognize you at the event hm? without having to stare everywhere and become suspicious Waiter: its just that it would be difficult to do so without it sooooo ????? Waiter: yah!! where did you go?? Waiter: ex...excuse me? ehm ehm!!! Waiter: wow okay… Waiter: Y/N … disappeared... Waiter: i guess you are busy >< im arriving at the venue soon update me so i know where you attttttt okiiii??? ㅎㅅㅎ

You hid your smile behind your hand and quickly typed him a message to update him like he demanded. You couldn't send a selfie anymore because of the silly lights and your superiors being at the same table, you couldn't afford to be on your phone all the time. Hyeri, as much as she was kind, didn't like it when the job was not done properly, so you made sure to pay attention to the performances while you felt your phone vibrate with messages most probably from Baekhyun.

You bit your lip to keep in the smile, your heart fluttering. How was he able to be this… gorgeous even through messages? How was he able to make your heart beat frantically even when he was not around you? Unknowingly, your desire for him grew by tenfold, the sudden urge to meet him almost overtaking your actions, but one strict stare from Hyeri and you stopped squirming in your chair as you realized you did with a horrified look. Wow. You had to do something about this, and it had to be very soon.

To your big misfortune, you never spotted Baekhyun until it was his turn to overtake the stage. As much as you expected something huge, it was anything but that. No props, just a simple mic stand and then, a Baekhyun in a ready-to-go-for-a-date look, plus four dancers and he was able to fill the huge stage to the brim with his presence. That was it. Simple as that.

You inhaled his entire performance, the loud screamings of crazy fans not enough to pull you out of your reverie that consisted of Byun Baekhyun and Byun Baekhyun only. His movements, so sharp yet so smooth, his flirting with the camera, his lip bites, and that crazy happy smile; all of it. He was changing images from lethal sexy, through lazily suggestive, then sweetly gorgeous until becoming cute and ready to pet on the head. Without anything more to add, he had each flavor of a candy to offer and you had never been this addicted to candies in your life.

...

You met him accidentally when you were leaving the toilets that were meant for the VIPs. Closing the door behind you, you felt its cold surface press to your bare back when Baekyun appeared in front of you, freezing momentarily when he recognized you.

He smiled instantly, happy to finally see you, before he let his eyes wander. Finally, he let you know that he was looking. Oh he was. Your dress was revealing on the back, which he had yet to witness, but the front was completely covered, hugging your chest and waist, telling Baekhyun that there was something to look at for sure. The long, wavy skirt that stopped just above the floor was bunched up in your hand, showing sparkly high-heeled shoes that were the cause of the pain in your ankles.

None of you said a word as you took a note of his fancy suit, the simple stage outfit now gone. It was fully black, but once again you couldn't comprehend how broad his shoulders and chest were despite his shirt that was tucked into his pants being black, too.

“Good performance,” you broke the silence finally, meeting his somewhat eager gaze. “I have to admit, I was swooning with the other girls, too.”

That got Baekhyun's attention. His eyebrow rose in question and he stepped closer but not before making sure there were no prying eyes in the small corridor. His body covered yours from anyone, were you to be disturbed. “Oh, were you, really?”

You nodded, your smile teasing. “Yeah.”

He smiled gently, his gaze running over your features that were touched up with make-up. “I'm glad. If I wanted to impress someone, it was you.”

“You did that a long time ago,” you admitted shyly, averting your eyes so he wouldn't catch you shyness.

You heard him letting out a laugh through his nose. “So cute,” he muttered, stepping even closer. “I have to run back but let me drive you home tonight.”

His words made your head snap up though you weren't that much smaller from him anymore thanks to the heels. His words ignited something inside of you. “You came with your car?”

“I asked my friend to bring it over to the venue,” he said. “I am not going back to my company after this. I finally found you here and-” he sighed softly, shaking his head as he looked at you, “I want to spend some time with you. Alone.”

Your breath hitched in your throat, his look making you all itchy and needy. Without much thinking, you found yourself nodding a tad too eagerly which made Baekhyun smile. “Alright,” you whispered, “text me. But I can't leave before my superiors do.”

“Can I just steal you?”

Giggling, you shook your head and suppressed the need to hold his hand. “I'm afraid no. But I will try my best to get out of it quickly.”

His smile was so gentle as he nodded slowly, closing his eyes for a second before stepping even closer, his fingertips running over your clothed forearm in the most feather-like way. “Okay. I'll be waiting for you,” sweetheart.

…

The car came to a complete stop in front of your small apartment building. Audi had quite the silent engine anyway, but now with it being turned off, you felt like silence had a physical form and was growing in on you, making the tension between you and Baekhyun the more difficult to withstand.

Given his silence, you knew that you should say something, and you also knew what you were supposed to do. It was now or never. “Would you maybe… like to come in?”

He glanced over, checking your expression to see if you were serious. He parted his lips but hesitation stole the words away from him. You chuckled when he opened his mouth again and smiled abashedly. “'I’d love to.”

Oh my god, you thought as the both of you made your way towards your apartment. In panic, you tried to quickly think over what state you left your flat in exactly, but it seemed that your mind was clogged up, unable to come up with anything that could possibly explain what was happening in that very moment. Byun Baekhyun, the superstar, was coming inside your apartment. And he seemed to be rather quiet.

Was he overthinking this? Maybe he would realise this was all a mistake and that you weren't good enough for him. Maybe you did something off-putting today?

As you were typing in the code to your house, you felt his strong presence behind you, his gaze on your naked back, and you swore the tension just grew even more when you let him enter your little safety den first. Surely, it was no luxury like he must have been used to by then, given the many years of singing career, but you could only hope it would be enough.

You had been far too gone for him. If he were to dump you, you might end up hurt and heartbroken.

Letting the door close behind you, you wanted to follow him only to see him standing just a couple of steps ahead of you, looking into the apartment but not moving further inside. “You can enter, Baekyhun.”

“You look so beautiful tonight,” he said softly out of nowhere, catching you off guard with his honest words. Letting them sink in, you bit your lip, feeling your heartbeat accelerate again. It wasn't possible to get a heart attack, right?

He was standing in front of you while your back was pressed to the front door you just closed behind you. “Thank you,” you whispered, matching his intimate tone and feeling like you were about to combust. “You look really handsome tonight.” And everyday.

He smiled, which you couldn't see as he still had his back on you. Just then, he turned and with that pleasant expression on his face made those separating two steps towards you until he stood right in front of you, causing you to look up. “Thank you.”

You nodded, feeling the terrible blush creeping up into your cheeks. Actually your entire body was suddenly on a heat wave, feeling the prickles of sweat to form under your dress as he stared at you affectionately. God, you wanted him so much it was really becoming unbearable.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“You just asked one,” you replied mischievously, grinning, just to be rewarded with a wide smile from him as he stepped even closer, your heart clenching painfully. Was it the chemistry that was so painful?

“Cheeky,” he whispered, his breath almost hitting your cheek. You kept his eye contact before you nudged him with a go on.

What, do you want to kiss me on the cheek again? you desperately wanted to ask, to tease him. Or would this finally be it? Would he finally just... kiss you?

“May I kiss you, sweetheart. On the lips.” His intonation was far from that of a question. He was so hot, goodness. And your knees were suddenly jelly-like as you couldn’t stop staring into his eyes when you nodded.

He let out a breathy laugh when he almost pressed his body into yours. Almost. “You don’t like to confirm things out loud with me, do you, beauty?”

“Yes, you may kiss me, Baekhyun. Please, just finally kiss me.”

It was almost as if he wouldn't wait for your approval anyway, as he was leaning in before your words even left your mouth, his hands coming to gently rest against the door; caging you in, yet making you feel even more safe. He was carefully watching your features as he pressed his lips to yours, one hand coming to cradle your face gently before he finally captured your upper lip and you melted.

Closing your eyes, you sighed as you let your hands slide up his toned chest and around his neck when he pressed himself into you just a little bit closer, a very much satisfied hum coming out of his throat that sent shock waves down your body. That deadly hum. It could really do anything to you, it was that attractive to you.

You dared to run your fingers through his hair that had gel in it, but still felt so cutely soft under your touch. You played with his pillows, prolonging the gentle sucking as you dragged his lower lip towards you, feeling the wetness of his mouth. He leaned in as you separated for the slightest of moments, tilting his head to the other side, unconsciously making one step closer so you felt him on your chest and the surface of the door on your back.

Smooch after smooch, you soon realized he was a loud kisser that liked the licking sounds and the responses from you as you breathed out softly while his thumb caressed your blushed cheek.

Another loud smooch, and this time he was the one who dragged your lower lip towards him with his teeth, as he bumped his nose with yours, tilting his head to the opposite side again while both of his hands cradled your face with utmost care.

Eventually, he kissed you one last time, ending it with him pressing his forehead to yours, not opening his eyes just yet. You didn’t either, relishing in the lingering feeling of him around your mouth as his warm pants pushed in through your parted lips. Slowly, he nuzzled your nose and you giggled softly which prompted him to open his eyes to meet yours already on him.

“That was better than I could ever imagine,” he whispered and smiled handsomely.

You blushed even more, if that was possible. “Ditto.”

His eyes widened and he leaned away a bit. “Don’t tell me you fantasized about kissing me?”

You shrugged but didn’t meet his eye. “How could I not? I’m a human, aren’t I? And you know I like to be straightforward.”

He smirked, knowingly nodding to himself. “Oh yeah, right. The straightforward business.”

You chuckled. “You’re too good of a kisser.”

“Only the best for you,” he winked and those words made you feel things. Before you could reply, he blurted: “Can I be your boyfriend?”

Smiling widely, you nodded, feeling absolutely elated. This was really happening. “Yes, you can be my boyfriend, Baekhyun.”

He sweeped you in his arms, bringing you in for another kiss. “That means,” he murmured between the kisses, “that I can kiss you just like that. And I can finally call you sweetheart,” he breathed the nickname before opening his mouth and devouring you, showing how passionate of a kisser he could be.

You never doubted him, of course, but in situations like these, reality was always better than your poor imagination, for your brain could never produce the exceptional feeling of having Byun Baekhyun’s lips on yours, feeling the moisture and his playful tongue, his creativity of teasing you with it astonishing. No. Nothing could ever compare.

There was only one Byun Baekhyun and he was a superstar. Off-limits to almost everyone. But not to you. Not anymore.

--- --- --- --- ---

A/N: And that is the end! This is the final part, so with this, I am also saying goodbye to this story that made my heart flutter a wee bit... ^^ Thank you to whomever sent me support via comments/reblogs, dms, I was glad this story could bring something enjoyable to the table! ❤

--- As you know, these 3 chapters were supposed to be about how our characters met and became a couple. So I hope I delivered well! I know I put the M sign in the beginning way back in May, but while plotting, I realized it wasnt suitable for these 3 parts. It would take me more chapters to write to bring it to that point (hint: if you request it as a standalone oneshot later, I am willing to write it but otherwise it would need more relationship building).

I hope this explains it!

Thank you again!

Please let me know what you thought, it would mean a lot and its free!

CuriousCat Ask box is also open! Or comments!💕

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