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kookingtae · 4 years

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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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staysaneathome · 3 years

Text

That Day (Evening)

(The Entity-Swap kid fic WIP that now has a fourth part. Warnings for continued endangerment of children and high levels of pining)

The park is quite a bit further from where they lost the teenager in the hijab than Jon initially thought.

It’s almost funny, how two or three miles doesn’t sound like a very long way to run-walk. Just two or three, the small number making it sound doable, like they should be able to get there in a matter of minutes.

It’s less funny when they’ve been walking for over half an hour and Melanie won’t stop whining about how her legs are tired.

”Carry me.” She demands imperiously.

“No.” Replies Jon, flatly. “Last time I did that, you scratched me really badly. My shoulder and face still hurt.”

”They do not.” Melanie says, as if her denial is enough to undo all the damage. “And I won’t scratch this time. Carry me?”

”No. It’s not even much further to walk.”

”Uuuuugh, you said that last time!” She complains. “It’s been for-eeeee-veeer! Can we at least get some juice or a Freddo Frog or something?”

”With what money?” Jon asks archly. That buys him maybe half a minute of blessed, blessed silence.

“Wait. You don’t have money?” Melanie asks with a frankly insulting level of incredulity. “But aren’t you like, an adult? Adults have money!”

”I’m twelve!” He sputters, gesturing to himself. “Do I look like I have any money?”

There’s a moment of silence as Melanie eyes him up and down. “I thought you were just ugly.” She says dismissively. “Wait. If you aren’t an adult, can I be in charge?”

”No!” He snaps indignantly. “I’m still the oldest.”

”That’s dumb.” Melanie complains. “You’re dumb. And ugly.”

”And older than you.” Jon reminds her smugly. He’s been with her for long enough by now that he knows when to dodge out of the way when she tries to pinch him.

It’s a relief when the park finally comes into view.

It’s an even bigger one when he catches sight of Martin sitting on the balance beam, looking around patiently.

It lifts a weight off Jon’s shoulders that he didn’t even know was there when Martin catches sight of him and his face breaks out in a grin, like the sun rising. Then Martin’s face rapidly falls, and he’s sprinting over to them, looking like he’s seen a ghost.

Jon has a fleeting fear that the teenager in the hijab or the searcher are right behind them, poised and waiting for him to turn around to strike.

Martin slows, huffing and puffing as his hands reach out towards him, shaking slightly. “Jon! Jon, oh my gosh, what—what happened to, to your arm, to your face?!”

Ah, Jon thinks, as Martin cups his less-savaged cheek gently and tilts his head. Was that all he was frightened of?

”It’s nothing.” He says gruffly, trying not to think about how weird-hot-odd it feels to have Martin worry about some little scratches like this, fighting the urge to fidget. “Just doing, um. Doing what I had to.”

Martin’s eyes are big and liquid and sad, and he frowns, opening his mouth—

“Liar. You didn’t say it was ‘nothing’ when you wouldn’t carry me.” A sour voice interrupts.

Jon startles and Martin whips his hand away so fast it feel like a burn, both of them turning to stare down at where the interruption came from. Melanie is starfished on her back on the grass, glaring up at them moodily, one sweaty hand still clutching Jon’s. The Watcher informs Jon that her clothes will have grass stains on them when she gets up. Jon tries to inform the Watcher that he doesn’t care, but is ignored, as usual.

Melanie eyes Martin critically. “Are you his friend then?”

Martin straightens up, his usual smile on his face. “Erm, um—yes! Yes, yes I am Jon’s friend! Mar-Martin Blackwood! Um, hello! And, and you are?”

Melanie pulls her sweaty hand out of Jon’s grip and holds it out to Martin, sitting up. “M Melanie King. Jon kidnapped me and we’re friends now too.”

Martin’s smile freezes as he processes that sentence. His eyes dart between Jon and Melanie. “Ah. Um.”

”I did not.” Jon protests. “You were being kidnapped by a searcher, and I saved you.”

”Didn’t do a very good job of it.” Melanie mutters, pulling up grass by the roots and dropping it on his shoes.

Jon retreats with a disgusted noise, trying to shake it out where it’s fallen through the holes of his too-big trainers. ”Stop that! And-and we’ve just met, we’re not friends!”

There’s a moment of silence.

Melanie’s eyes start to water. She begins making an awful noise that makes some part of Jon’s brain he hadn’t even known existed freeze up and go “Oh no”.

He exchanges a brief terrified glance with Martin, who reaches out. “Oh, no, no, no, oh please—”

Melanie wails, the sheer force of the noise making Jon stumble backwards.

“Melanie, shh!” He hisses, darting glances around at few parkgoers who are stopping to stare, “You’re making people—”

”NO!” She bellows, swiping out at him with a poorly aimed claw, tears and snot running down her face in rivulets. “I HAE-HATE YOU! I HATE THI-I-IS! I HATE THAT EVERYTHIN' SO ANNOYING, ALL, ALL THE TIME, AND IT DOESN'T STO-O-OP!! I HATE MY FRIENDS NOT, NOT LIKING ME ANYMORE! I HATE MY DADDY GETTIN' SAD 'CAUSE OF ME! I JUS' WAN' IT TO STOP! I WAN’ MY FRIENDS BACK!! I WANNA GO HOME!!”

The little girl curls in on herself, the bright green grass stains on the back of her sparkly top shaking with her as she continues to sob like her little heart is breaking.

Jon has no idea what to do to fix this, hands clenching and unclenching uselessly at his sides. He has no idea how she was touched by the Slaughter (though the Watcher croons for him to question her, to learn, to Ask—), and even if he did, it’s not as though he could make it just go away, as if a mark like this could be removed with a bit of scrubbing. This isn’t something that can just be pulled out of her, like a loose tooth. It’s part of her now, wedged deep inside like the Forsaken is in Martin, and the Watcher is in Jon.

He doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t Know—

“I-I’ll be your friend!” Martin babbles frantically.

Jon stares at him, feeling suddenly, irrationally betrayed.

Melanie gulps and sniffles, peering up at him through red-rimmed eyes. “…you promise?”

”Cross my heart and hope to die.” Martin smiles, holding out a small, ragged tissue. “C’mon now, can you give me a big dragon blow into this?”

She gives him a Look, like she knows he’s trying to make her laugh and is cross with him for it, but does as he says, making a noise that’s a bit like a honk.

“Good job!” Martin praises, while Jon crosses his arms and tries to make his face not frown like he wants to. This is stupid. You can't be friends with somebody you’ve just met, you don’t Know them, it’s silly. Childish. Plus Martin’s his friend. Melanie has no right to come along and-and steal him like this. Martin looks up and catches sight of Jon’s face. His smile dims a bit and his colors go paler, more faded, which makes Jon’s tummy squirm uncomfortably.

Still, he keeps babbling, “I-I’m really happy to be your friend, and Jon’s friend too! I don’t have many friends at home, so this is. This is nice. To be friends with you two. It makes me happy. Do you have superpowers too? Like how I can go invisible, and Jon can make people tell him stuff and Know things?”

Melanie shrugs, tearing up the tissue in her hands. “Dunno. Making people get into fights, or something. Invisibility’s cool, I guess. But getting people to tell you stuff isn’t a superpower. That’s just asking questions. It’s dumb.”

“No it’s not!” Jon bristles indignantly, all his focus on the little friend-thief. “Asking questions can be dangerous. Especially when you can’t stop yourself from answering them. How’d you think the searcher was going to eat up your life?”

“W-well, a brain sucker monster like her wouldn’t need to ask questions, would they? They’d just bite your ugly head off and know everything anyway.” She argues back, little chest puffed out and tears all but forgotten. “If all that creepy lady was going to do is ask questions, I could take her. I just wouldn’t open my mouth. Easy peasy lemon squeezy.”

Jon barely notices Martin going wide-eyed and near translucent out of the corner of his eye as he opens his mouth to prove exactly why Melanie is wrong.

But he freezes up when he hears a soft, deep voice behind him. “Oh, really? Care to put that to the test?”

The searcher smiles down at the three of them.

Her eyes are empty and something hungry looks out from them.

”Come, little ones.” She coos, one hand outstretched. “Come home with me. Come back to the Collection. You’ll want for nothing, never hungry, never cold, never tired, never lonely, never angry. And you’ll hear such interesting stories. We’ve missed you, my prized Recorder. I’ve missed you so much.”

Jon feels frozen, pinned like a bird in the eyes of a snake, a part of him that he never wanted to know existed clamoring at him to take it, take her hand, you need the stories, you need—

A large, warm, soft hand grabs his, and yanks him back into the fog.

Jon yelps, though it feels like his yell is swallowed up in the crushing, inescapable isolation that now surrounds him. He sees Melanie, but it’s like she’s miles away, her shouting and directionless anger losing teeth as it dawns on her how utterly, utterly alone they both are. They aren’t friends. They can’t rely on each other. They’ll lose sight of each other and perish here, unremarkable and unremarked on and alone.

”C’mon!” A familiar, kind voice comes through the fog, shocking Jon back to his senses. “We’ve got to go! This way!”

His hand is being held. Of course it is. How could he forget? He and Melanie are holding Martin’s hands, as the barely visible boy tugs them through the eddies of fog, away from the searcher.

They run through the dreamlike realm of the Forsaken in a weird, birdlike configuration.

Martin had grabbed the hand which was closest to him on Jon, while Jon was still facing the searcher, locked into her gaze. The result is that his arm is drawn almost painfully across his body as they run, his sweaty palm clutching Martin’s tight, sure that if he even loosens his grip enough to change to a more comfortable position, he’ll be lost forever in the fog.

Melanie is stumbling along on Martin’s other side, her legs weak and shaky, almost skipping at some points to try and keep up with the pace Martin is setting, glancing back every so often. Tears are running down her face almost absentmindedly.

For a moment, as they pass through the darkening trees and get further and further away from the playground, Jon thinks they might actually make it. They might actually escape the searcher and live to fight another day.

”Stop.”

Jon feels his legs lock up, all his muscles seizing together as though cramped. The burning sensation of being Watched sears itself into the back of his neck, the entirety of him Known and Seen and Exposed.

He faintly hears Martin and Melanie scream as though they’re being peeled open and pinned down for study as he crashes face first into the mossy earth beneath them.

The searcher takes her time strolling up to them, forcing Jon to listen to his friends’ pained whimpers where they’ve fallen. Martin’s face scraped viciously from the bark of the tree in from of them, and Melanie unable to even inch off of where a root is digging into her stomach.

That’s how he knows it’s the man looking through her eyes, delighting in their distress.

”No,” He can hear Martin choke out, “No, st-stop it, st-stay away fr—!”

”Look at you.” The searcher coos in a tone that has never been her own. “All banged up and bruised. Do you enjoy this, Jon? Do you enjoy hurting your friends?”

Jon wants to scream, to cry, to yell that of course not, of course he doesn’t, he’d never want to, but it feels like his throat is closed up. It’s all he can do to suck in shaky breaths through his nose as the searcher gets closer and closer.

“Kill you,” He can faintly hear Melanie wheeze. Jon’s honestly at a loss for whether she’s speaking to the searcher or to him. “Swear, I-I swear, kill you, I’ll—”

“Come now.” The searcher says pleasantly. “That’s enough games. Time to come back now, children, Recorder. Time to come back to the Collection.”

He can see her hand reaching down for him.

A dark blur slams into the searcher.

Jon hears several short screams, what sounds incongruously like a growl and then a loud, wet, puncturing noise.

His limbs release from the rictus they’ve been forced into.

The burning sensation of being Watched fades to the ever-present prickle on the back of his neck.

Jon jerks his head up with a punched out gasp, reaching for the others, pulling them behind him even as he turns to See what is happening, what’s going on.

There’s a lady kneeling over the searcher’s limp, lifeless body.

She’s got combat boots and a hoodie that’s slipped down from her shoulders to bunch around her elbows. A small burst of scar tissue, almost like a flower, is visible and hidden again as she shifts, more animal than human in her movements. It reminds Jon of a nature documentary he watched with his grandmother once, a mountain lion stalking forward lithely to devour its prey. There’s the same intent, hungry stare in her eyes that Jon vaguely recalls the mountain lion having as she draws up to her full height and pins the three children huddled at the base of the tree under her gaze. There’s a penknife in her hand that’s dripping with the searcher’s blood.

He hears Martin suck in a frightened whine behind him, fog spilling out to pool around Jon’s ankles. Melanie’s breathing so fast she sounds like she’s a mere moment away from hyperventilation.

They can’t escape like this. Not from a killer touched by the Hunt. Not without a distraction of some kind.

Jon’s mouth is opening before his brain can process what an awful idea this is. “How did you get that—”

He doesn’t even see her move.

All he knows is the breath is punched out of his lungs and his feet are dangling uselessly as the Hunter slams him into another tree, a snarl on her lips. The bloody penknife is pressed hard into the thin skin of his throat.

”So you’re one of them, hm?” The Hunter snarls, the burr of her Welsh accent mixing with a growl that almost drowns out Martin’s frantic cries of “JON!” A tiny part of his brain that isn’t frantically trying to stay as still as possible notes that she’s got Melanie’s sparkly hair bobble stretched around one wrist.

“I wonder.” The Hunter says, with fake casualness. “What’d be the best way to make sure you can’t ask any more of them pesky questions that hurt people, hm? The tongue? Or the voicebox?”

”DAISY, STOP!”

It’s like magic.

The Hunt slides away under the young woman’s skin like someone’s pulled a blanket over it. Not gone, the shape of it still plainly visible, but softened, gentled by the cover’s drapes and folds. The arm that’s holding Jon up trembles, ever so slightly, and the penknife is finally, finally pulled away, even if only by a few centimeters. Jon’s breath hitches in his chest and he has to blink away tears.

As she twists around to face the teenager in the hijab, Jon’s given a clear view of one of her ears, which has begun to flush pink, for some reason.

”Basira.” There’s barely concealed excitement in her voice that is very confusing right now. “Hi. I, uh. I was in the area, and I, uh. Noticed you were having some trouble. So I found those kids that, that you were looking for.”

”That’s. Nice? But, Daisy, I need you to put him down now.” The teenager in the hijab is holding her hands out placatingly. “That boy’s not dangerous, not like Rayner. I wanted to ask him some questions.”

The teenager in the hoodie scoffs, but does as she asks, tucking the penknife away and lowering Jon to the ground. “If you say so. Just don’t let him ask you any—they’re tricky, Eye types like this.”

Jon feels his legs go wobbly the moment his feet touch earth. He slumps, breath wheezing out of him, heart racing like he’s running from the searcher all over again.

”JON!” Martin’s arms curve under his, pulling him forward into a tight, warm, soft hug. “Oh, oh god, I-I’m so sorry, ah-are you okay?! Did she hurt you?”

Jon can only grip feebly back, burying his head into Martin’s increasingly saturated shoulder as it feels like he shakes apart.

Part of his brain that isn’t focused on clutching onto Martin like he’s a lifejacket and swallowing compulsively to remind himself that he’s alright, he’s whole, faintly registers the sound of something smacking flesh, and the Hunter going “Ow!” “That’s what you get!” Comes Melanie’s shrill reply. “Don’t you ever touch him again, okay, you big, big, stupid, bullying, ugly—!”

”Okay, that’s enough of that.” The teenager in the hijab—Basira? says. “Break it up, you two.”

There’s the distant sound of dried leaves and tree detritus crunching underfoot, and then Martin’s breath hitches. Jon tightens his grip, preparing to twist him away from whatever’s threatening them now.

”Hey, easy, easy.” Basira’s voice comes from a lot closer. “I’m sorry about Daisy, but she’s very…passionate about stopping monsters. Like the one chasing you three. That was a monster, wasn’t it?”

“Y-yeah.” Martin stutters. “She was going to hurt Jon. Just like she did.”

Jon stiffens at the sound of the warning growl, but Martin doesn’t let go of him, even though Jon can feel his heart racing in his chest. A peek shows that Martin’s staring down the teenager in the hijab with a wobbly lower lip, but eyes set hard.

”And she’s very sorry about that.” Basira demurs. “It was all a big misunderstanding, wasn’t it Daisy?”

There’s a moment, and a decidedly grumpy, “Yes.”

“There we go.” There’s a rustle, and Jon withdraws his head from the safety of Martin to see that she’s pulled out a small leather-bound notebook and a pencil. “Now, could I ask you both some questions? About the whole,”

She makes an all-encompassing gesture to them and the cold fog of the Forsaken coiling around them.

”Our superpowers?” Martin blinks. “Why? Do you have them too?”

The teenager shakes her head. “No. I’m ah, uninvolved in a lot of this. But then a boy I was babysitting got kidnapped by shadow monsters, and I met Daisy while trying to rescue him, so ‘forewarned is forearmed’ and all that. And since I’m under strict orders not to go to the Orsinov Institute—”

”I told you,” The hunter—Daisy—interrupts. “That place is dangerous. They say they research stuff, but something ain’t right there. You’d walk in, and something else would waltz out in your place.”

Jon can’t help his curiosity. “H-how—?” It feels like his vocal cords dry up under the glare the Hunter pins him with. Thin ice, she mouths at him.

”Yes, thank you, Daisy.” Basira cuts in, shifting so she breaks the line of sight between the Hunter and Jon. “So, as I am banned from ever setting foot in the one reputable center for the study of the supernatural in this country, I have to do my own research piecemeal from subjects in the field.”

Martin and Melanie are giving her blank looks. “She wants to ask us about the Watcher, the Forsaken and the Slaughter and what we can do.” Jon translates.

Martin nods with a little ‘oh’. Melanie just looks even more confused.

”I just want my Daddy. I wanna go home.” Her voice breaks on the last word.

Basira’s face softens at that.

”Y-yeah.” Martin says, shifting from one foot to the other. “A-and I need to get my train back. My, my mum’s probably worried about me…”

Jon can’t quite help the way his arms tighten at that, though he loosens them quickly. It’s only natural. The sun’s practically gone down, after all. Whether Jon desperately wants him to stay has no import on the matter at hand.

“Right.” Basira scribbles down something in her notebook, then tears the paper out and then tears that into three strips. “This is my mobile number, and email address. You can contact me using either of these to talk about…superpower things.”

”And I’ll find you if you try to vanish, easy as anything.” Daisy adds with a toothy grin. “So don’t.”

”Daisy.” The hunter holds up her hands. There’s dark red blood on the one that held the knife. “I’m joking, Basira, joking.”

Jon, despite how much he doesn’t want to, detaches from Martin. “I, I don’t have a phone. Or a computer.”

Basira hums, her head tilted to the side. “You know Angel of Islington? Near where you two got on the bus earlier?”

Jon nods as she goes on. “I can be found around there most days. Just drop by if you feel like sharing any of the things you’ve seen so far. And who knows? Maybe I’ll have some stories for you too.”

Something leaps in Jon’s stomach.

Still, the way the Hunter’s gone tense puts him on edge, so he makes himself say, “Only-only little ones. Not, not big stories.”

The teenager in the hijab nods impassively. She claps her hands together. “Well, that’s enough excitement for one day, I think. Let’s see about finding your parents and getting you all home, shall we?”

Daisy nods, stepping close. Her ears are still red in the fading evening light. “I’ll come with you.”

Basira gives her an unimpressed look and a snort. “And then who’ll deal with that?”

They all turn to stare at the searcher’s body. Martin shivers and grabs his hand, squeezing gently. Jon almost jumps when he feels something small and warm press close to his other side, before he looks down and sees Melanie’s leaf-and-twig-filled hair. The other sparkly bobble is almost falling out too.

Daisy’s eyebrows draw together and she lets out a small growl. “Ugh, fine. But just, um. Call me, maybe, next time? If you’re gonna go chasing after weird things.”

Basira smiles, playing with the edge of her hijab for some reason. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Jon glances back as she ushers the three of them out of the park, shoulder and throat and everything else aching and feeling like he imagines an orange must do after the juice is squeezed out of it. The hunter’s eyes shine in the looming dark as they go, shifting from something that Jon wants to call friendliness to a more animalistic bent as she crouches over the body of the searcher, and the two of them disappear into the trees and the twilight.

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carelessannie · 4 years

Text

maybe it goes like this: tony courts peter (part 2)

Read on A03

Read the Stuckony backstory WIP

Starker focus (Tony x Peter), Winteriron (Tony x Bucky), with reference to Stucky, Stony and Stuckony

This is the “meet... awkward” for my AU, and takes place roughly 8 months before the first chapter. Enjoy!

Major warnings: D/S Au, A/B/O Au, OmegaSub!Peter, BetaDom!Tony, OmegaSwitch!Bucky, AlphaDom!Steve, Heavy Awkward Flirting, Cute Nicknames, Kinda Sexy Winteriron

Maybe it goes like this:

8 Months Earlier

Peter is looking forward to seeing his Pack after class, definitely needing to cuddle up with Annie in their nest tonight. And maybe Clint will bring home pizza. It’s been a long-ass day.

Okay, definitely pizza.

From the front of the class, Peter can hear his professor introducing the guest lecturer, and he drags his backpack around to his seat to unlock his laptop and notebook. Just as he logs in and dates his notebook page, Peter looks up to see the most attractive man in New York walk through the door, smile to the class, and introduce himself.

Tony.

Tony Stark?

No Way. The Tony stark?

Peter's ears ring, and he swears he sinks three feet into the floor.

Mr. “just call me Tony” Stark is saying something about BioMolecular Engineering, about class credit, about new processes in the industry, about independent research opportunities, about the— wait.

Peter jerks in his seat, mouth ajar, as The Tony Stark lists benefits of working in his research lab for Stark Industries, a dream Peter has nursed since high school. He barely hears the rest of the presentation, focusing on closing his mouth and blinking, keeping hot Arousal out of his scent, adjusting himself in his pants—

“—and I’ll take questions up front if you have them, thanks."

There’s a round of lazy applause, as students start to pack up and file out, and Peter shakes himself, You have to talk to him. He scribbles a few questions on his notebook and throws everything into his backpack, floating across the classroom and to the back of the line.

When he finally steps up, both of them freeze. Peter restrains himself from scenting the older man right there in the classroom because hot damn .

Peter lets out a short gasp of “hellomynameisPeterParker,” thrusting his hand forward, and is pulled in for a firm handshake, Tony Stark looking into his eyes with a vaguely amused expression.

Peter lets go, reluctantly, and stutters out, “M-mr. Stark? I think I’d be interested in the semester research opportunity.”

“Of course, Peter Parker,” Tony turns and grabs a StarkPad, scrolling briefly before handing it over to Peter, “if you want to fill it out today, feel free. It’s an equal opportunity research grant, and provides a weekly stipend for the duration of the program.”

Mr. Stark continued with details, as Peter quickly puts his information in the application and presses “submit.” He peers up at the older man, Beta? Probably? Most of what he can scent is spice and fire– maybe cinnamon, or chai like Clint? It’s hard to tell without throwing his face into the man’s neck, and inhaling deep–

“Mr. Parker? Pete?”

Peter’s head shoots up, and he realizes he’s been still for too long without responding, and immediately goes to apologize, “Oh, I-i’m so sorry, Mr. Stark, I just… I finished the application? Shouldn’t I submit– or, sorry– send in a resume? Sorry.”

Mr. Stark keeps his expression schooled, but Peter can tell that he’s holding back a smile. Dammit Parker, way to nail the first impression. He shifts on his feet, biting his lip as Mr. Stark shakes his head slowly.

“No, it’s okay Peter. Our admin team will review the first round of applications by department, and send out an email link for further information, alright?” he gives into his smile, reaching out as if to... what, comfort Peter? But aborts the motion and crosses his arms, flexing slightly under his navy suit.

“Do you have any other questions, Peter?”

“No, n-no not right now, sorry, thank you Mr. Stark, sir. Um. Okay? I’ll see you later?” and Peter beats a hasty retreat out of the classroom, feeling his scent shift Embarrassed and hot tears prick his eyes.

Why does he always give a terrible first impression?

—

Tony stands, shocked in the empty classroom, schooling his scent and his breathing.

Thank you Mr. Stark, sir.

He collects his things in a haze, heading back to his pack and thinking about the gorgeous omega who just called his name.

Damn. His Alpha and Omega are gonna want to hear about this.

2 Weeks Later

Tony is straightening up the last few items in the R&D lab, hearing Pepper’s complaints of You need to care about your work space, Tony and You need to prepare a safe space for interns to work, Tony. And Pepper is right, of course, so Tony keeps cleaning.

He hears the doors swish open, and sighs, schooling his expression to neutral. He whirls around, raising his hands to defend himself against what he assumes is a new portion of nagging from Pepper, and instead–

The pretty omega from NYU.

What? “What are you–” Tony starts, watching as– Parker? Pete, Peter?– clutches a bag close to his chest, large doe eyes widening in shock and fear and… yup, there it is, FearShockEmbarassed Omega scent floods the lab as Peter takes a step backwards, lips opening and closing in shock.

“Hey, are you–”

“I’m so sorry, I–”

Tony shakes his head, stepping a little closer, “No, it’s okay, Peter? Right? From NYU?” with a nod in confirmation, Tony barrels ahead, “I thought you were– no, it doesn’t matter. Are you, are you here for the internship?”

“Y-yes, I’m sorry, they said to come at noon, but I thought I’d get here early and, god I can’t believe it, I’m so sorry, I’ll just wait– uh, wait outside?” Peter stutters through the explanation, lowering his eyes and backing towards the door to retreat into the hallway.

“No, like I said Peter, it’s okay, honestly,” Tony looks around quickly, trying to find a seat for the started young man, and yanks out the stool to his workbench, “here, sit down, please?”

There’s a moment of stillness as Peter looks between the stool and Tony, muttering something under his breath and setting his jaw in determination. Damn this boy is adorable, and Tony forces himself to keep a neutral expression as the om– the intern – walks across the room and sets down his backpack. Tony turns to the other side of the desk to give Peter some space, and clears the last of the notebooks into a nearby drawer.

He wants to start a conversation with Peter, fingers twitching in the unbearable silence, but is saved by the lab doors opening again, revealing Pepper leading five lost looking interns into the room. She leads so gracefully, he thinks, and feels his scent turn Fond and Proud for the Beta. Pepper sits each intern down, greeting Peter as well, and before he knows it, orientation and introduction are underway. The interns have their own work benches, and Pepper lets another supervisor take over the first day paperwork.

While the interns work in silence, Tony refuses to fixate on Peter, even though he takes to the research environment so beautifully. He's smart, he makes the funniest sarcastic quips when he thinks no one is listening, and he's kind of quiet, but always speaks up when he has a strong opinion.

Tony keeps his interactions unbiased among the other interns, mostly betas and one alpha, and is so relieved when the day ends and the students finally shuffle out of the lab. Peter ends up last to leave, staring at Tony and nervously licking his lips as he shoulders his bag. He seems to hesitate.

“Yeah, what’s up Pete?”

“Oh… no, right, see you tomorrow?” Peter shifts back and forth on his feet.

Tony smiles, “Of course, early bird,” and honestly can’t help his eye twitching, helplessly, in a wink.

Peter stutters out some type of goodbye, and flutters back through the door.

Tony blows out a breath, “JARVIS, call Bucky.”

—

“So what you’re tellin’ me is, you’ve somehow managed to find a smokin’ hot–”

“Beautiful,” Tony interrupts, “and compatible–”

“Right, smokin’ hot, compatible omega, and you… hire him?”

“I mean, technically I didn’t hire him personally–”

“Tony–”

“No, you know what, I get it. It’s my fault I can’t have him. But Bucky, I swear he’s so damn smart, and I can’t even let myself hope about his orientation,”

Bucky groans audibly over the line, but Tony protests again, “–because I swear he would submit so beautifully, Bucky, I can just see it. And remember how I said he called me sir?”

“How could I forg–”

“It’s all I can think about. I don’t wanna be overbearing, but I’m completely helpless around him and have no idea what to do. Bucky, I winked at him. Winked. And he ran away so fast.”

He can hear Bucky laughing at him over the line, that idiot, and Tony drops his head in his hands.

“Want my advice, sweetheart?” Bucky doesn’t wait for an answer before continuing, “I think you should take it slow and court ‘im. Sounds like it could be awhile before you can make anything official, and what is he, like eighteen?”

“... Twenty.”

“Okay, twenty. He probably isn’t looking for a permanent pack anyways, alright? Get to know ‘im at work, and as soon as you can, you should also put a stop to him seeing you as his boss,”

“Wait, but–”

“No, Tony. As much as it feels great for this little omega to call you ‘Mr. Stark’ and ‘Sir,’ if you want anything more with this guy, you have to work to even out the relationship a bit.”

Tony slumps down into a seat, sighing dramatically. Bucky goes silent as Tony processes what he’s saying. A thought occurs to him,

“Wait, is that how Steve got you?”

Bucky snorts, “Yeah, you know our Alpha’s ‘bout as subtle as a dump truck. His advice is gonna be, ‘sit the omega down, state your intentions to court him, communicate clearly,’ all that shit,” another laugh, this time fonder, “I’m just sayin’ to save that for later, okay? Take it slow.”

Heading towards the door, Tony signals for JARVIS to move the conversation to his phone as he heads home. He pops in an earpiece for the call, and makes sure Bucky is still on the line.

“Yeah, I’ll take your advice Bucky-bear. Hey, are you home?” Tony taps his foot as the elevator descends to the parking garage, feeling a familiar itch starting under his skin.

“Yeah I am, Steve’s out until later... why, what’s up?”

He gets out of the elevator, heading for his car, “I think all this talk of the perfect omega has me missing you. Wanna do something soft and dirty when I get home?”

Bucky hums, the sound sweet and tempting, even over the phone line, “Whaddya have in mind, my Beta?”

“Oh you know I love when you call me that,” Tony peels out onto the main road, heading towards their coastal property, their home, “I want you to contact Steve and ask him to pick up dinner, your choice. I’ll tell him what my plan is for you tonight, so he won’t be surprised. I’ll be there in thirty-five minutes and want you in the red room, ready to play, understood?”

Tony can hear Bucky breathing quicker over the phone as he responds, “Yes, Beta.”

“My good omega. And for now, let’s not tell our Alpha about Peter. Not unless it gets serious, okay?”

“Mmm okay, Tony. Hurry home,” and Bucky ends the call.

Tony steps on it.

#starker #winteriron #stuckony #stony #stucky #tony x peter #bucky x tony #d/s fic #light d/s #meet awkward #getting together #fluff #MiGLT #omegaverse

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organchordsandlightning · 3 years

Note

For the WIP ask game: TMACatsagram

C A T S A G R A M

this is the one i'm playing around with for jonsimsandcats day! basically, martin finds an Instagram page for a foster cat account (Eyes of the Be-Foster) and immediately falls in love with the man who runs it. he manages to find one of jon's lost cats and learns to love cats himself in the process 🥰it combines my favorite tropes of 'martin blackwood thought he didn't like cats until he finds one specific cat' and no-fears romcom! my dear jonathan has four-six cats at any given time, and also a Chihuahua.

little excerpt under the cut:

Jug flopped onto Martin’s legs, the fur on his spine brushing against Jon. He stared up at Martin. Martin sensed a challenge: what are you going to do about it?

He looked over at Jon. What, indeed, was he going to do about it? “Jon?”

“Mm?”

“One of your cats is laying on me.”

“That he is. Good evening, Jug,” Jon greeted, reaching over the laptop to scritch against Jug’s ears. “Found a warm spot?”

“Have I been accepted, then? Into the kitty cult?”

Jon tittered at the joke and returned back to his work. “They’re just getting used to you. I told you they would. Maybe it’ll keep them off my work – Quoth is particularly fond of laying on my laptop.”

The idea of Jon trying to have a video meeting only to have a cat that bore an uncanny resemblance to a raw chicken breast with a jumper on it showing up in frame was very funny, but also not very nice, and Martin wasn’t sure if it was the sort of not-nice Jon would appreciate yet.

“Oh, big stretch!” Jon admired as Jug stretched his front paws as far as they would go, until they rested on the soft fibers of Martin’s shirt. “Biiiiig stretch, sweetheart. So tired. So sleepy.”

#tma #jonathan sims #the magnus archives

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callboxkat · 4 years

Text

Just Your Average Ghost Hunt

Author’s note: I felt like writing a one-shot today, taking a break from my longer WIPs, and here’s the result! I hope you all enjoy.

Summary: Virgil has a YouTube channel where he talks about cryptids and conspiracy theories. Tonight, he sets out with his friend Roman on a ghost hunt.

Warnings: ghosts, talk of death and murder, some crude humor, fear, Remus

Word Count: 1818

Writing Masterpost!

...

“You remembered the camera, right?”

“Wha—of course I remembered the camera! Come on, give me a little credit.”

“And it’s charged?”

Roman pouted at him, slinging his bag over his shoulder.

Virgil smirked, hopping out of the car. “Just checking.”

“It’s your camera, isn’t charging it your job?”

“Knowing you, you’d happily run down the battery before we even got here, with all those selfies you take.”

“That’s what my phone’s for,” Roman claimed, jutting out his chin. He slung the camera strap around his neck, double checking that it was secure.

“Oh, I see.”

“We’re not going to get in trouble for coming here, are we?” Roman asked, following after his friend and staring up the road.

“What, are you scared, Princey?”

“No, I just—”

“Because if you’re scared,” Virgil sighed dramatically, “we can go, I guess, but you have to be the one to tell Logan we still haven’t gotten his proof of ghosts. It’s your fault if he thinks we just couldn’t find it.”

Roman huffed. “What is it with you and proving to him that ghosts are real, anyway, Winnie the Boo? Isn’t talking about cryptids and conspiracies more your usual gig?”

Virgil raised an eyebrow. “Is that really the best nickname you can come up with? Wow, you really must be scared.”

“What, we’re on a ghost hunt, aren’t we? And don’t avoid the question!”

Virgil rolled his eyes, closing the car door. He took out a flashlight and switched it on, casting their surroundings in high relief. “I wasn’t, calm down. I just want to see the look on the dude’s face when we show him actual video of a ghost.”

The pair’s boots crunched on gravel, twigs, and assorted debris as they began the trek up the long-disused road towards their destination. “So,” Roman asked as they clambered over a fallen tree, “what are you going to do if we can’t find one?”

“I have Photoshop.”

“Well—then why are we even out here? Just photoshop yourself up a ghost and be done with it, Wail-E!”

“That nickname was even worse. And besides—” Virgil hopped down, reaching up to help Roman, whose jacket had gotten caught on a snapped branch— “this is way more fun.”

“Speak for yourself,” Roman grumbled, inspecting his coat for damage.

“Come on, it’s not that far now.” Virgil started forward, flashlight held high. Roman scrambled after, not about to be left behind.

“I don’t like this.” Roman peered around at the surrounding trees, whose shapes and shadows seemed to warp as they passed, reaching towards the pair like spindly arms ready to drag them into the dark.

“I didn’t ask you to come. I’ve done plenty of these without you.”

“You’ve done plenty of these with Janus,” Roman corrected. “In our friends’ houses. Not in the middle of nowhere.”

“I wasn’t going to put this off just because he’s got a stomach bug. It’s supposed to rain all next week.”

Roman swallowed. “And I wasn’t about to let you come to some old abandoned house alone.”

Virgil turned, putting a hand on his chest and grinning. “My hero. Now turn on the camera, I see the house up there.”

Roman squinted, and saw that, in fact, he could make out the shape of some kind of structure ahead. It looked like it was practically part of the forest now, trees grown around it and nearly obscuring the shape in the darkness.

“Welcome to Virgil and Roman’s final moments,” Roman said, turning on the camera slung around his neck, “documented for all those who want to see us torn apart by crazy woods people, or bears, or wolves, or, possibly, ghosts.”

“Very funny,” Virgil said.

“Well, aren’t you going to say anything?” Roman said. “I don’t know, set the scene.”

“Kind of hard to do that when you keep talking, isn’t it?”

Roman stuck his tongue out.

Virgil turned to face the camera. “My name is Virgil, and the lug behind the camera is my friend Roman. Tonight, we’ve got a treat. We’re visiting an abandoned house, deep in the woods.”

Roman silently shook his head, amused at the exaggeration. The nearest major road was only a ten minute walk away.

“Legend says it’s been abandoned since the 50’s—”

“Is Wikipedia where you heard this “legend”?”

“Shut up, Princey. And no, it’s not, actually. Will you let me continue?”

Roman held up his free hand in surrender.

“Legend says it’s been abandoned since the 50’s, but no one had been able to stay in the house for more than a few months at a time even before that. Apparently, there was a murder here decades earlier, and the ghost of that person has haunted the place ever since.”

“Sounds like fun.”

“Roman and I are here to get the first solid proof of this ghost, and share its existence with all of you.”

“I’m sure YouTube will love it.”

“I am so glad I can edit out all your dumb comments.”

“You know you love them, Count Woe-laf.”

“You’re going to make me wish I’d waited to come with J, I just know it. Just make sure you’re holding the camera steady.”

Roman smiled innocently, then turned the camera up to focus on the house.

“We’ve just arrived,” Virgil said, “And are about to head inside. Wish us luck.”

“Virge, you know this isn’t live, right?”

“Yes, Roman, I know that,” Virgil said. “Let me put in a little flair, okay?”

“I must be rubbing off on you.”

Virgil ignored this comment and approached the house, peering around the crumbling façade of the dilapidated structure. “It looks like the front door is padlocked, but this window is broken. We can put one of our jackets on the sill and climb in.”

“Wait—whose jacket, Virge?” Roman stepped back, clutching his own protectively.

“Oh, relax,” he said, rolling his eyes as he shrugged off his own jacket.. “Some of us thought better than to bring our favorite jacket on a ghost hunt.”

“If that roof collapses on us, I don’t want cheap plastic all that’s protecting me.”

“I’m pretty sure a jacket won’t save you if the roof collapses; but go off, I guess.”

“Thank you; I will.”

Virgil laid his jacket over the window sill and hopped inside. Roman climbed in after him, turning on his own smaller flashlight and looking around warily.

Dust motes hung in the air, which smelled of mildew. A few pieces of furniture remained in the house, each covered in a sheet that might have once been white. The space had not been spared from the elements. Weeds even grew between some of the rotting floor boards.

“I know this is where I’d want to live, if I were a ghost,” Roman commented dryly, eyeing a grimy puddle that had collected in a fold of one of the sheets.

“Ghosts are tied to places where they died, or to objects that were important to them. Or their body. Odds are, this ghost has no choice but to live here.”

Roman sighed. “Okay, anyway. How are we proving there’s a ghost here?”

Virgil slung off his backpack and pulled out a wooden board. “We’ll start with this. It’s a Ouija board.”

“A Ouija board?”

“Yeah. It channels spiritual energy and lets them talk to us.”

“I know what a Ouija board is,” Roman sighed. “I was just… I guess I shouldn’t be surprised you brought one.”

Virgil sat down on the floor, beginning to set up the board. “Set up the tripod, so it can see both of us and the board. You sit across from me.”

Roman did as Virgil asked, then sat across from him. Each perched his fingertips atop the small, triangular piece of wood with a hole in it, which Virgil said was called a planchette. They slowly brought the planchette around in a circle, with Virgil narrating what they were doing and why, probably for the less supernatural-versed Youtube fans. Then Virgil said some mumbo-jumbo words about positive energy and communication, whatever; and then they finally they got to the questions.

“Is there a spirit with us in this house?”

There was a long pause, long enough that Roman started to think that maybe Logan had the right idea, before the planchette slid over to Yes.

That was you, wasn’t it, Virgil?

Virgil was trying to hide a grin. “How many spirits are here with us?”

“What’s your name?”

The planchette slid over to B.

“Brandon? Bethany? Bella? Benjamin?”

“…Buford? Bucky?”

Virgil frowned. “Butler?”

Roman bit his lip to keep from laughing.

“Roman, stop messing with the planchette,” Virgil snapped.

Roman made an indignant noise. “I didn’t!”

“Spirit, I apologize for my friend. What is your name?”

B-U-T-T-H-O-L-E.

“Maybe it doesn’t want to tell us,” Roman said, shrugging and trying not to laugh.

Virgil was starting to look exasperated.

“Maybe it’s a kid. How old are you?” he asked.

“You’re six years old?” Virgil’s mouth opened. “That’s so y…”

The planchette moved again, interrupting him.

“69,” Virgil repeated. “Okay, maybe not a kid.” He glanced at Roman, looking suspicious, as if wondering whether he’d changed the results again. Roman pouted at him in response.

“How did you die?”

“Wow, that’s pretty personal, isn’t it?” Roman asked. “Ask it how it’s doing, at least.”

Virgil sighed. “They don’t usually stick around for long, Roman.” Then seemingly deciding to humor him, he asked, “Spirit, how are you?”

Yes.

“Well, that’s… an answer,” Roman said. Maybe the Ouija board was broken or something.

“How did you die?” Virgil asked, repeating his earlier question.

The planchette hovered for a few seconds.

K-N-I-V-E-S.

Roman swallowed.

“Oh.” Virgil shifted. “What year did that happen?”

4-2-0.

“Roman, seriously, stop.”

“I swear, it’s not me.”

“Fine, then let’s try again. What year did you die?”

D-E-A-D.

“Yes, you died,” Virgil said. “Do you remember what year that happened?”

Y-O-U A-R-E D-E-A-D.

Roman’s eyes widened. Virgil wouldn’t have done that, would he? “Um, Virge? I think maybe we should leave.”

“Are… are you a good spirit?” Virgil asked, his voice uncertain.

No.

The lights above flared into life, far, far too bright, like small suns. They shouldn’t have worked, even if they were still connected to power, or had the bulbs replaced in the past decade. Wind rushed through the room from an invisible source, the temperature dropping.

POP!

The light above them burst, sending sparks falling around them. The rest of the lights followed in rapid succession. The tripod fell over as if pushed, crashing to the ground between the pair and sending up a cloud of dust.

Roman and Virgil screamed, scrambling for the exit, pushing each other through the window, back into the woods. They raced back towards the car, both the camera and Virgil’s jacket forgotten.

Hysterical, cackling laughter followed them through the trees.

#sanders sides #thomas sanders #roman sanders #virgil sanders #remus sanders #ts sides #ts roman #ts virgil #ts remus #ts fanfic #ts fic #fanfiction #sanders sides fan fiction #just your average ghost hunt fic

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black-streak · 5 years

Note

Hey I love your writing!! For a prompt how about a Timmari story where they keep meeting at a coffee shop and start dating. Then Mari gets a job at WE and finds out that Tim is a Wayne.

Oh! I love seeing your comments on my works! (and your username is 👌) this prompt was extremely fun and I ended up with a really cool premise imo considering it's only around 1000 words. If I didn't already have a long wip, I'd probably expand this a ton, so thank you so much for sending it in. Hope you enjoy!

~---~

Marinette never meant to become employed at Wayne Enterprises. Honestly, she's not sure anyone ever did, based on the stories her new coworkers shared with her upon her revealing that working there had been an accident.

They'd welcome her and ask how she came to find herself working in the office. From the moment she opened her mouth, nods of understanding and small knowing smiles came flooding her way.

So many saying they were down on their luck, taking odd jobs, even working for criminals when times were tough, just to put food on the table. Suddenly, like an angel of good omens, a business card passed by steady promising hands and a call later, they were working a stable job in a reputable company without fear of being laid off.

That… Was not quite how she came to be here, but they never let her get past the, "Completely by accident, I'm still not sure what's happening," so apparently surprise jobs were common in Gotham.

They were, however, taken off guard and even applauded her upon finding out exactly where she was stationed. How did someone like her end up with this position? Good question. She wishes she knew.

Sighing softly, she took her time heading up towards the up most floors, on a mission from her new boss.

Waiting on the elevator, she reminisced on her time in this wretched city thus far, trying to figure out how she ended up here of all places. She moved from Paris out of sheer need for change, sick of the overly safe, villainless streets. How does one act as a hero when there is nothing to be heroic about? Add on the money Fu passed along to her in accordance with her gaining guardianship of the miracle box plus selling the massage parlor he no longer had need for and it left her… well enough.

Setting up shop, she settled in quickly before reopening her commissions page and began working once more. It was around this time she met Tim, her now boyfriend.

The two had bumped into each other in the coffee shop down the way from her place, her newest haunt for sketching. Well rather, they bumped into each other numerous times on multiple days always at the same time and murmured soft, embarrassed apologies with light blushes and avoided eye contact. The usual barista began setting their coffee orders on a little table off to the side before their arrival instead of waiting for them to order and handing it off to them separately. Something about "shipping it" and needing the two to just "get on with it already".

This led to having regular conversations over their preferred beverages until eventually one had to leave, usually Tim. After three months of this dance, Cathryn, their barista, took the steering wheel once again and wrote a little message on his cup to just ask her out already. Three weeks in and she could not thank the barista enough. Her boyfriend was amazing.

It was around the time she first visited that particular coffee shop that she picked up a new love for creating fabrics and materials to incorporate into clothing. She began to look further into organic chemistry, using the information to help formulate new fabrics that were more durable, yet light and flexible. They quickly became a feature amongst her commission prices, allowing the truly daring to strike out and debut her newest materials in her stead.

Finally reaching the office she needed, she spoke briefly to a nice woman named Tam, who promptly walked over to the CEO's door.

"Miss DC is here with files for review and sign off."

"Now?" A familiar voice spoke up.

"Considering she is behind me, I would presume so."

"Did she mention which department?"

"She didn't."

A soft sigh, "Let her in."

Tam gestured her in with an amused, "good luck," closing the door behind.

"One moment please," he spoke, eyes glued to the screen in front of him. She stared in surprise for a moment, not entirely processing the situation. Finally she just shook her head and accepted her reality.

This might as well happen. Adult life was already so god damn weird.

"Take your time," she shrugged, taking a seat in the chair across from him.

His eyebrow scrunched up for a second in concentration only for him to snap to attention, surprise splashed across his features, "Marinette?"

"Morning Tim!"

"What are you doing here?"

"Same as you, I suppose. Working. Guess this is a bit of a conflict of interest, huh?"

With a blink, he turned back to his computer and clicked through a few files, eyes scrolling the pages only to come to realization.

"R&D division. Direct assistant and secretary to Mr. Lucius Fox. Hired one week ago."

"Yup," she popped, completely unsure how else to react.

"I thought you were a fashion designer?"

"I am. Have my own business and everything. You're as confused as I am."

"Did you apply?"

"Nope."

"Then how- nevermind. I know how. Same way everyone ends up here. By surprise and random happenstance."

"Well yes, though I was under the impression I was being asked to create a suit for someone considering the email came through my site and not my personals."

His eyes seemed to twitch just barely. She got the distinct feeling he knew something she didn't. That was fine. He didn't even know her designer pseudonym yet. Speaking of them not knowing things about each other.

"I thought you said you were in the family business?"

"I am. Bruce Wayne is my adoptive father."

"Well okay then. On that note, Mr. Fox has requested your immediate attention on these files. He expects them to be returned to his office within the hour. The project will be underway in the meantime." She stated, falling back into work mode and dropping the stack onto the desk in front of him with great pleasure as his eyes glared at the paperwork.

"Not going to wait approval?" Tim asked.

"I've been assured that will be unnecessary. I may be new, but it's been made very clear to me. I only answer to Mr. Fox. You're more of a formality in this instance and will have no effect on my work."

He gaped at her before shaking it off with a laugh, "I assume Lucius himself told you as much."

"Pretty much."

"Of course he did."

"Still on for tonight?"

"If I get through the mess you just left me."

"You will. Only have an hour, remember?"

"I suppose we are then."

"Wonderful! We have so many new things to talk about," she stated, leaning in with a sly look before turning on her heel and sashaying out of the room, "See you later, Boss!" She called cheerfully on her way, cackling at his choked off response and violently red face.

Closing the door behind her, she met Tam's unimpressed, yet curious look, "What was that about?"

"Just found out my boyfriend works here!" She grinned, heading back to her own division to the sound of the Tam's gleeful laugh.

#timari #timinette #maribat #ml x dc #working on prompts sent in before the cut off #last two? i think will be put up tomorrow #what are timelines?#screw it Mr Fox and Tim as CEO can coexist

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dunniekowrites-tbhk · 4 years

Note

hiii! how about teru with a f reader that always wears makeup to hide her freckles (heh insecure) and even when they sleep together (just cuddling lmao not nsfw) she hides her face and then one day he goes over to her house maybe and she just got out of the shower and OBV DIDNT PUT MAKEUP ON and he discovers her freckles!! and actually loves them! (i hope) AND REASSURES HER THAT HE LOVER HER FRECKLES AND THAT SHE IS PWETTY AND ALL STUFF! CUDDLING AND FLUFF 🥺💕💕

that can be scenario if u want :) or hc

i mixed hcs with scenario I hope you’re okay with that asdfghkdskjkznk it’s a tiny bit angsty.

❥ T E R U X F R E C K L E S ! R E A D E R

❀ ┈──╌❊╌──┈ ✿

- Teru always had tell you that he loves you no matter what, for him it doesn’t matter how your body or face look, he would love you for who you are and he would accept all your flaws and qualities.

- He doesn’t mind you wearing make up, it’s your life and you can do whatever you want. But he doesn’t know you do that to hide your freckles hhh

- Whenever you guys are cuddling, he is holding you close to his chest and resting his chin on your head, you’d always look down or hide your face, he thought you were embarassed or something, but he wanted to see your cute face too! :(

- He is used to go in your house for study dates or in the weekends so you two can spend time together, watching movies, read, snuggle, etc. So it’s quite normal when he appears knocking in your door, to be honest it got quite irritating so you made a copy of your key to him.╮( ˘ ､ ˘ )╭ with permission of your parents of course.

- But you didn’t think he would appear in your house out of nowhere, it was Saturday and he had plans for you two that day, so he came and and waited for you in the couch, you just finished in the shower and put some comfy clothes, you went to the living room, drying your hair, when you locked eyes with him.

- Awkward silence.

- A h.

- You immediately cover your face with your hands, turning around and going straight to your room.

- Until you felt a hand grab your wrist.

“— Wait! Y/N!” - You could feel the confusion and concern in his voice, you couldn’t resist, and just stood there, static, looking down, letting shame fall from your shoulders.

“— Why didn’t you tell me before ..?” - You clenched your fist, trying to hold back the tears when you felt him wrap his arms around you in a sweet embrace, like you were a frail flower.

“— I..I don’t like my freckles Teru, haha .. Did you never suspect why I never stare at you for a long time when we’re close? Why I always wear a lot of makeup? I’ve always feared that you found out, and now you know ..” - You said with a shaky voice, he tensed up after feeling your body tremble promptly. He found out. If you were more cautious, more attentive, everything would stay the same, but he found out, and it was your fault.

“— Y/n.. What are you sayin-”

“— I hate it Teru! I hate it! I’m fuckin’ insecure! I feel ugly with them! Don’t you see?!”

Crack..

Paft.

The wall you built from the beginning was collapsing, you finally let yourself break in front of him, the mirror of your self-control shattered, you finally let the tears drop, falling on your broken porcelain skin, crying out of frustation, drowning in your self-pity. Why do I had to be so damn weak?!

Sniff.

You turned your head to face him, even if you felt like you couldn’t, you tried. You felt his embrace tighten around you, he had tears streaming down, heavy as pearls, but not as heavy as your feeling of guilt. You didn’t want this, you didn’t want him to cry. You opened your mouth but before you had a chance to say anything, he entwined you in his arms.

“— Why? ” His lower lip was quivering, he tried not to sound so desperate. “— Why would you do something like this? ” - He waited for some seconds before staring at you. “�� Y/n, I..love you, and you know that. I love you unconditionally, and I will continue loving you, no matter what happens, in joy, in sadness, in health, in illness - any situation. But I need you to know..”

He adjusted a lock of hair behind your ear, with a soft smile and understanding eyes, he continued:

“— I need you to know that I’m here for you and that I care about you, and I can’t stand looking at you treating yourself so badly like that..”

“— I-I thought you wouldn’t like them..I t-thought I would look ugl-” - Before you could babble other word, his lips were on yours, giving you a sweet peck.

“— You thought wrong. You couldn’t be more wrong, and I couldn’t be more blind myself for not noticing it.” - He chuckled. “— I love you for who you are, Y/n. I couldn’t care less if you have freckles or not, you’re beautiful in my eyes. ” - Soft kisses were planted on your cheek as he wipped your tears away, caressing softly. You didn’t know what to feel at that moment. Happiness? Gratefulness? Were you blessed? Blessed by having this angel with you?

“— A-Are you serious..?”

“— Very serious. ” - He affirmed. “— By the way, I love them. ”

“— What? ”

“— I love your freckles. If I had to say, they match you. I love them as much as I love you, and I love every part of you, every part you feel like you aren’t good enough, or pretty enough, I love them. ” - He leaned over so he could be at the same height as you, grabbing your chin gently so you could stare at him properly, he stated:

“— I love them all because they’re part of you, and I reassure you that. You’re pretty, no matter what.”

He stroked your hair smoothly, placing a kiss that carried love, respect and all his feelings in it, on your forehead. It was like time has stopped and you couldn’t feel other thing than happiness, your heart wasn’t beating fast, it was just..calm. You found peace in his arms, and you didn’t want to leave. Ever.

You tightened the fabric of his shirt and smiled tenderly. That’s when you knew you could continue crying, but crying of happiness, you were so grateful for having him in your life.

Bonus:

The night was cold and peaceful, you and Teru were tangled watching a movie in the couch, a warm and fluffy blanket covering you two, his arms were wrapped around you like he was protecting you from all the bad things this world has to offer, all the sadness, the cruelty, everything was vanished, reduced to dust. You felt safe, loved, and you loved him. You were resting your head on his shoulder, giving and receiving loving soft kisses, sharing this wonderful feeling. You just wished this moment could last forever.

#toilet bound hanako kun #jibaku shounen hanako kun #tbhk #tbhk x reader #jshk #jshk x reader #teru minamoto #teru minamoto x reader #minamoto teru

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bregee13 · 3 years

Text

A New Home WIP

Here's what I wrote of this so far. There is a LOT l have yet to write. So much so, that I've been debating on splitting this up in to multiple parts.

Also this story is part of a long series of stories I already wrote, so context is important in order to understand what's going on. You can read what I've written so far here.

But if that's way too long (I don't blame you), here's a TLDR: There was a Raposa family living in Rapoville that comprised of a mom (Nixie), a dad (Bob), a son (Hunter), and a daughter (Polly). Hunter for a while was secretly going to the twilite woods on his own. Polly eventually found out Hunter's secret, and threatened to tell on him if he didn't let her go with him through the forest gate to see the twilite woods. When the two went into the twilite woods, a flyin rabbit doll attacked Polly and cursed her into making a flyin rabbit doll (which she named Bongo). After a big argument between Hunter and Polly, Hunter ran to the twilite woods. But the darkness around Rapoville was getting worse, and ended up trapping Hunter in the forest gate region (he's fine, he'll go on to live with the Baki there. Nobody knows that though). Nobody knows where Hunter was except Polly, and she was extremely guilty about it. She tried to enter the darkness to try rescuing him, but was caught by Cricket. But when she noticed she dropped Bongo right next to the expanding wall of darkness, she ran up to get it (risking her life in the process, which resulted in Bongo absorbing a lot of loving energy). But Cricket managed to save her from the darkness. Eventually the darkness gets so bad that Polly and her parents are forced to move out of the village (via the bridge).

This story picks up with them moving through the snow gate region into the forest gate region, and them having to deal with a new temporary home. Also a bunch of other stuff, especially Bongo stuff, but I didn't get to that part yet. 😭

The actual WIP is under the read more.

It wasn't before long until the Raposa family wandered into the snowy fields. At first the snow barely dusted the grass beneath their feet, but eventually the snow became almost knee deep. It was a good thing Polly thought of bringing blankets with them. Even then, the three wished they had the time to change into warmer clothing.

Polly, while squeezing her dad's arm for support, shivered uncontrollably. "D-dad??? Why did-didn't we u-use the S-snow G-gate...?"

Nixie, who was also freezing, couldn't help but glare at her husband. "That's a g-good question, Polly! Bobby, why DIDN'T we use the snow g-gate?"

"Nghh..." 'How's this my fault? Movin dis way was YOUR idea...' As much as Bob wanted to say it out loud, he was much too tired to butt heads. Besides, after trudging through the snow for that long, you almost HAD to blame somebody. Though, if he didn't say anything, Nixie would freeze him to death before any snow could. "Well, if we w-went through the snow gate, we could've walked right i-into darkness. A-and dat wouldn't be fun, would it?"

Nixie, who was starting to remember her plan, felt her cheeks flush a little more than they already were. Though embarrassed, she welcomed the extra warmth on her face.

"B-but.... Why did-didn't we go to th-the dock?? A-and r-ride a boat somewhere?" Polly asked, hoping asking more questions would distract her from the cold.

Her mother shook her head. "N-no... We couldn't have done that. The d-darkness might've covered the dock by then..."

"M-might've!?! Y-you didn't k-know?!"

"I...I... Um... f-figured there wouldn't be any more boats sailing to and from there anyway... With all this darkness, of course... Of course...."

"Th... That... s-sounds..." Polly tried to call her mom out on her poor excuse, but she was just too frozen to speak.

"Dat sounds like a c-cra... crummy excuse, N-Nix.."

Nixie turned her head toward Bob in confusion. "Wh...what? Are you saying, Bobby?"

Bob stared off into the distance. He longed to go back home and sleep in the warmth of his bed, but he knew that was impossible. "D-dere was no h-harm in checkin first... Ya k-knew dere was a chance of esc-cape dere.... W-what the Rapo stopped ya...?"

"Oh... U-um... You know, um..." 'Well, you didn't bother to check either! Why blame me...?' It took a moment for Nixie to regain some of her composure. She knew she was the only one planning anything out, and that Bob likely didn't even think of checking the docks in the heat of the moment. She actually thought about leaving the village by boat many times. But the one thing that stopped her every time was her fear. "...E-even if there was a way.... Th-there's no way to know what to expect... The o-other villages might be worse off than where we w-were.... There's no way... There's no way...." While she did fear the darkness in other villages, she did have one other small fear that she was afraid to admit. She was scared of returning to her parents after going missing for so long. 'Only Creator knows how those two would react...'

"...Y-ya got a point.... I haven't h-heard from Jack in a real long time... H-Hope he and the folks are alright in Lavasteam... N-nice.... hot..... L-Lavasteam...." 'Rapo... This snow is messin with our heads n' makin us lookin all ridiculous!'

Bob looked back toward Polly. She hadn't spoken for a while now, which was odd for her. On top of that, she was moving at a snail's pace, slowing everyone down as a result. "Polly? Ya doin okay?"

"..." Polly, shaking rapidly, fully relied on her father's arm for support. She had a hard time gathering her words and saying them out loud. She felt horrible. "D-dad....." She cried. "I...I can't feel my legs......."

"Dat can't be good.... Hang on..." Bob walked up to Nixie and handed her the clothes he was carrying. "Hold dis for a s-sec?"

"O-oh... Of... Of course..."

Bob then proceeded to lift Polly off the ground, and carry her in his arms. "Urk!" 'She's heavier than I remember!' "It's okay... you're o-okay... Y-you you're gonna be okay, okay?" He tried to reassure her, but it only seemed to make everything worse. 'Oh Creator, she's real cold....' As worried as Bob was, he knew he couldn't show too much concern. For all he knew, it would just jinx everything. "...Y-Ya got uhh... Um... Bangle with ya? Ah! I..! I m-meant...! B....Bon...Go?"

Polly, squeezing her stuffed friend in her arms, didn't even bother to correct her dad. Though the fact that he caught the mistake on his own really meant a lot to her. "Mhmm..."

"G-good. Dat's good... "

Nixie took the clothes that were handed to her and covered her daughter with them as if they were extra blankets. "There. H-hope that will help s-somehow..."

"Th-thank thank you..."

The three silently continued on their journey through the snow. The bitter wind brushed their cheeks. Eventually, the snow began to die down, and the air was less stiff. The knee-high snow turned into mere frost. Needless to say, everyone was relieved. The ice life is NOT a nice life.

The wide open snow fields slowly turned into a chilly forest. The trees were of a purplish hue and had seemingly no end to them. It was clear that they had entered the forest gate region.

Bob, now getting tired of carrying her around, set Polly down by one of the many trees. "There ya go. Are ya feelin any better?"

Polly slowly nodded. "Y-yeah."

Nixie leaned down to feel Polly's arm. "She's still really cold..." She turned to her husband. "What should we do now?"

Bob looked up at the sky. It wouldn't be too long before it grew dark. "We gotta get some shelter. Can't rest out in da open..."

"Where are we going to find this shelter, anyhow?"

"We're gon have to build it from scratch... Don't expect nothin fancy, I don't got no tools to work with."

"That's fine... But..." She looked down at Polly before returning her gaze to Bob. "Are you going to be alright by yourself?"

Bob tried to reassure her with a smile. "I'll be good on my own. Don't worry bout me. Just worry bout her."

"...Okay. Just be back soon."

"I will." Bob stepped back from his family and got to work.

Now, Bob may be a carpenter, but he wasn't exactly experienced in wilderness survival. Lucky for the three Raposa, he managed to put a small shelter together out of branches and leaves. And for the restrictions he had, it was relatively spacious. Just big enough for everyone to lay in comfortably.

Nixie had Polly wrapped up in her arms. "How are you feeling, baby? Are you warmer now?"

Polly yawned. "Yeah. I'm okay. I think Bongo's a little tired though. Are you tired, Bongo?"

"..."

"Yeah... He's pretty tired..." Polly's eyes had grown heavy from the exhausting journey she had been through.

Nixie, who was tired as well, softly chuckled to herself. "It seems that you're tired too. How about we get ready for bedtime?"

"Yeah… Okay." Polly stretched.

"Are you well enough to get up on your own?"

"I think so..." Polly slowly started to get up off of the ground. Although her legs were a little wobbly from sitting too long.

Nixie reached out for her daughter in an attempt to stable her. "Are you alright?!"

"I'm okay! I'm okay! My legs are just sleepy."

"Come on, I'll help you over there." Nixie had her arm wrapped around Polly's body, helping to guide her to the makeshift home Bob had made. "Bobby! Is the shelter finished over there?"

Bob looked back at his wife, and sighed. "It's 'bout as done as it's gonna get... Hope it works just fine."

"It looks wonderful. Why don't you take a break and get some rest? It's been quite a long day."

"It is gettin pretty late, huh? Alright. I'll take a breather."

"That's what I wanted to hear! Besides, a good sleep in there will make the perfect test for the structure you made."

"That's true..."

Polly pulled her mother's arm toward the shelter. She was starting to get cranky from a lack of sleep. "Mooom... C'mon! We gotta go to bed! Bongo's really really tired!"

"Alright, Polly! Settle down! We're on our way. Why don't you go on ahead and get ready for dreamland?" Nixie suggested.

"Okay..." Polly yawned. "G'night...." She squeezed Bongo in her arms, and stepped inside.

Nixie glanced at her husband. "We should follow her."

Bob nodded. "Yeah, I guess we should..."

The two stepped inside the structure. The dirt floor was covered in a bedding of grass and leaves, which in turn was covered by the largest blanket they had brought. It was cozy to say the least.

Polly was already laying down, curled up underneath her very own blanket. She held onto her doll as tightly as she could. Her eyes were shut. As far as Nixie and Bob could tell, she was already fast asleep.

“She looks so peaceful…” Nixie whispered.

“Dat didn’t take very long at all, huh?”

“That journey must have drained all of the energy from her. I don’t believe I blame her.”

“Poor Polly… I sure hope all dat snow didn’t leave her sick…”

“I hope so too. She didn’t seem to be all that ill, just tired. ...I have faith that she’ll turn out alright.”

Bob sighed. “Rapo, what’d we do to deserve any of this? We lost nearly everythin, and now we gotta live in this… this… whatever this is!”

“You’re the one who built the shack… I don’t see why you’re the one complaining.” Nixie mumbled.

“...What was that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. It doesn’t mean anything. It’s fine.” Nixie clearly sounded annoyed. “It’s not a permanent solution, anyhow… We’re not staying too long.”

“...Are you insulting my work?”

“Bobby, please.”

“No no, I get it. I understand! I don’t wanna live here either! Who da Rapo would? In fact, it’s so awful dat any normal Raposa would rather sleep outside on the dirt and die!”

“We may as well be…” Nixie muttered.

“Excuse me?! I worked real hard to set this up! All by myself with no tools, no help of any kind, and you’re talkin to me like that?! A lil while ago, you said it was fantastic. I worked the best that I could under these circumstances, and now you’re mad it ain’t good enough?!”

“Bobby, you know that isn’t what I meant.”

“Really? What else could you have meant by that?! I don’t understand anything you’re saying, Nix! First you said one thing, then you say the opposite? I don’t understand at all...” Bob crossed his arms and hung his head low. His eyes were starting to water in frustration. “...Explain to me, Nix. What’s wrong? What’d I do wrong? What the Rapo did I do to you to make you insult me like dat?!”

“Rapo, you didn’t do anything! Nothing is wrong! Why would you come to the conclusion that everything is your fault?! What the Rapo do you even think you did?”

“I-I dunno… I was just askin you that! Ya can’t just say ‘nothin is wrong’ right after complaining your rear off to me!”

“Well maybe I’m just feeling a little peeved.”

“Peeved?!”

“Of course I’m peeved! I didn’t want this! I didn’t want to be forced out of my home, I didn’t want to have to worry about whether or not we’ll make it out of this okay, and I surely didn’t want you to yell at me!”

“Yell at ya?! Nix, you’re da one dat started it!”

“Bobby, what the Rapo are you talking about? I didn’t start anything! You just got mad at me out of nowhere!”

“Out of- What?! I-I would never do dat to you! I would never yell or get mad at you for no reason!”

“Then why are you yelling at me right now then?”

“B-because... I’m mad because you insulted me!” He began to cry. “I’m mad because you decided to be mean at me for no reason! I’m mad… because I don’t understand why you would do that…”

“Bobby?”

“That… that really hurt, Nix… Why would you go and do that?”

“Bobby… I… I’m so sorry.” She gently lifted his chin up so she could see his face better. “I’m sorry.”

Bob looked at her and sniffled. “I don’t understand, Nix. I-I know it ain’t the best I’ve done, but you ain’t gotta be mean about it…”

“I wasn’t trying to be mean to you… I… I was just frustrated. And I ended up saying the wrong thing… I know that wasn’t right for me to snap like that, but… I’m sorry…”

“I know you’re sorry… I know you’re just stressed out. Dat just… really got to me for some reason. I-I’m sorry I overreacted.”

“Bobby… You didn’t overreact. It’s okay. It’s my fault for upsetting you.” She sighed. “We’re both just... frazzled from all of this. I understand.”

“...I forgive ya Nix. I know ya didn’t mean what you said.” He faintly smiled for a moment. “But… Dere’s somethin I don’t understand. Why’d ya say it looked good earlier? I don’t get it.”

“...You want me to be honest? I... was trying to be polite. I didn’t want something like this to happen. Especially not in front of Polly. ...Wait a minute. Polly!” She turned around to face Polly, hoping that she was fast asleep and didn’t hear anything they said.

Polly, who was watching the entire time, hid under her blanket once she got caught. ‘Rapo! She saw me!’ She then pretended to be sleeping, hoping that she wasn’t in trouble.

Nixie sighed and turned back to her husband. “We really need to pull ourselves together, don’t we?”

Bob nodded. “If I were her, I wouldn’t want my folks arguing over nothin… I’d want em to be happy. I’d wanna be sure that it’s all gonna be okay. ...We gotta do better for her.”

“You’re right. From now on, we have to stay positive. No matter what happens.”

“Of course. We gotta set an example. It’s what Polly deserves. It’s what Hunter deserves too.”

“...Yeah.”

“...I wonder if Hunter’s doin alright. Maybe… Maybe he’s alive somehow?”

“I don’t want to talk about Hunter...”

“Alright, I understand.”

The two stood there for a moment in awkward silence.

#drawn to life #my writing #DtL ocs

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