#the place i work now is super messy and in all honesty kind of disgusting

[soobadnoonecanstopher]

Touch it for Real, Part 10

Genre: Humor / Fluff / Angst / (Eventual) Smut 18+

Warnings: OMG they were roommates / slice of life / slow burn / mutual pining / crude humor / cursing / virgin!baek / idiots to lovers / unresolved sexual tension

Characters: Baekhyun X You/Female Reader

Description: You teach Baekhyun how to date. (Basically the Get You Alone M/V)

A/N: I had to split this chapter due to length. Part 10.5 will follow tomorrow. 

The song inspiration for this chapter is Eric Nam’s The Night

Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 3 , Part 4 , Part 5 , Part 6 , Part 7 , Part 8 , Part 9 , Part 10 , FINAL Part 10.5

You hadn’t touched the app since you’d done it.

You hadn’t slept much either.

The guilt was eating you alive from the inside and you were pretty sure the ache you felt in your stomach was an ulcer from the stress of living with the horrible mistakes you had made.

Your room was the wrong temperature.

Your bed was uncomfortable.

The light that shone through your window from the moonlight was too bright. You couldn't hide away from it no matter how hard you tried.

No matter how tightly you closed your eyelids you could still see everything too clearly. Even hiding your head under your pillow didn't block it all.

The clock on the wall of your bedroom ticked rhythmically and the sound was counting down to your destruction.

You fought the useless battle against the bright moonlight for hours until you realized the reason why you could so clearly see the messy clothes on the floor in front of your closet and the overflowing wastebasket sitting beside your desk wasn’t because of a super moon occupying the sky outside, but that brightness was actually the sun shining through your window now; alerting you to the fact that you had once again spent an entire night wallowing in your own self pity or self hatred or self loathing or whatever self bullshit was on the docket this time.

It was Sunday morning.

You were sitting on a time bomb as you spread butter on your toast and kept your ears tuned in for the sounds of life inside his bedroom.

You hadn’t really expected him to, but Baekhyun hadn’t appeared since last night when he disappeared inside his bedroom to sleep. You hadn’t heard him playing games all night or even heard his shower running or playing loud music well into the sunrise.

Was he really sleeping?

All night?

Like a normal person?

Or maybe like someone who wasn’t too weighed down by the pressure of their own substantial sins might sleep.

You knew that Baekhyun liked to sleep in late on days when he had nothing pressing to attend to. You’d both gotten in late last night and he probably wouldn't make an appearance until late morning. Maybe not even until lunchtime.

Your toast was bland and floppy by the time you took a bite and you scowled down at the disappointing thing. Surely and somehow you could blame yourself for this breakfast failure. It wasn’t the toaster. That thing was perfect. It was you. You’d waited too long to eat it. You’d been wallowing for too long and now it was a waste.

It was all a waste.

You’d drive yourself crazy at this rate. You needed a distraction to get through it.

You would do laundry and clean your bathroom and tidy your room and maybe then you could think.

Think about what you had done to Mia, what you had done to Baekhyun; think about how low that was and how undoable it was. It wasn't like you could un-delete the messages.

You worked on your Sunday chores and you were thinking hard. The doubt was heavy and made the load of laundry you carried out of your bedroom feel this basket was full of bricks and you were walking on a sandy beach.

How would Baekhyun react? Would he know that you had been the one to delete the messages or would he blame it on a glitch in the system? What would he think of you when Mia told him that he’d agreed to meet her himself last night. Last night when he was asleep.

What would happen to Mia?

Would she sit alone at the cafe for an hour waiting for him or would she text him right away?

Would she quietly absorb her disappointment at being stood up or would she blame him for it. Had you just made him the bad guy? Your sweet Peanut — a villain?

You didn't want to hurt her. You had liked her. Your jealousy had just taken over last night. You’d never been stood up before but you imagined it felt awful. Baekhyun knew what it felt like. Would it hurt him terribly to believe that he had somehow played a part in causing someone else that kind of pain by making the mistake of associating with you; the mistake of trusting you?

You’d been watching your laundry spin around in a circle for a half an hour now and you looked up on top of the machine to see the carefully measured cup of soap sitting there. You’d been so lost in your thoughts that you forgot to put it in. The disappointment you felt in yourself was fitting it hardly even made a dent in the already deep down in the mud mood you were in.

You’d have to stop the cycle and restart it with soap. You’d wasted all of that water.

If Baekhyun knew about this he would be so disappointed in you. He would complain and nag about the irreparable damage you’d done to the Earth, to his Earth, his planet, his home. The only one he had to live on.

And you deserved to be nagged. You deserved to be scolded and yelled at and you deserved to be made to feel like the absolute scum of the earth because what you had just done to him was unforgivable.

Would he really never forgive you?

Was this what finally did it? Not your laziness or your pranks or your inability to pay rent on time, but this? You’d been given his trust and you’d trampled all over it. You’d taken what he’d given you, his friendship and his access to him, to his privacy that he valued above all else and you’d squandered it for selfish and jealous and disgusting reasons. You’d trampled all over it, all over him. Again and again you showed that you didn’t deserve someone like him. You’d sinned against him and for what?

To stop him from dating a girl who you’d pushed him toward in the first place.

You were an asshole. The worst kind. A jealous, petty, selfish asshole.

You felt it then. You’d paused your load of laundry and you reached for the soap after the water drained from the tub. You held the button down to cancel and reset the cycle and you watched the digital display blink angrily at you, telling you that what you were trying to do was not allowed, it was against the rules. You were supposed to just let the wash cycle happen, you were just supposed to let it happen, you had been the one to push the button, you started it, why were you pausing right now why were you stopping and reversing when this was what you wanted? What kind of asshole stops the cycle right in the middle?

The numbers on the screen blurred. It was a blinking fuzzy red tinted mess. You could feel the sting and then the relief of the tears that crested and fell and you exhaled through a mostly stuffed up nose.

You couldn't do this to him.

The tears on your face were warm and wet and they fell freely as the intense regret washed over you completely.

This wasn’t you. You weren’t this person. You weren’t underhanded and sneaky. You didn't have the stomach for it. You felt like you might be sick just imagining poor Mia sitting there waiting for him, thinking the worst of him, believing that he was that kind of selfish cruel man who would treat a woman this way. That wasn’t fair to Baekhyun and you’d been a real monster to try such a low down dirty trick like this.

You had to fix this.

You were out of any other options other than honesty. You had to tell him exactly what you had done last night in a moment of misguided weakness, in a moment of stupidity and you had to tell him that he still had time to go meet her, to talk about whatever it was she wanted to tell him.  

You swallowed the lump in your throat and went into your bathroom to clean your face up. You would not let him be swayed by the selfish tears on your face. You had to control yourself and confess your crimes and you had to be straightforward and strong about it.

You gripped your cell phone and you inhaled a breath through your nose and exhaled it slowly through your mouth. Your exhale hiccuped once from the earlier upset and so you did it again; breathing in deeply, filling your lungs as full as you could and exhaling in one long continuous breath; until it was stable again, until you could feel your racing heartbeat relinquishing the manic control it had over you.

His door was closed and it was quiet behind the door.

You knocked twice, listening carefully over the thumping in your chest for the sound of his voice from inside.

Finally it came; a soft hum from within.

“Baekhyun—” You called through the door, “can I come in?”

His voice hummed again, low and sleepy, and you turned the knob, pushing the door open and then pushing yourself forward slowly.

He was in his bed, half under his covers with a leg sticking out and he rolled away from the wall he was facing as you came into the room, pulling his blanket down to uncover his face, his eyes peered at you as he squinted against the light in the room.

“Hmm?” He hummed again and his eyes closed back up.

You held your phone out toward him and you moved closer to his bed. He squinted one eye open and lifted a hand palm up which he quickly dropped back down onto the bed, clearly still half asleep.

“Did you break your phone?” His voice was thick with sleep and his eyes were still closed as he talked to you.

“No, I didn’t break it. I did something wrong.”

“Give it. I’ll fix it.” He was talking again, reaching again with more conviction now as the spell of sleep that he had been under began to break.

He was sitting up. He was looking at you with his warm brown eyes and he was blinking as he tried to focus on what you were saying to him.

“No. I didn't break it. I did something wrong,” you repeated for emphasis and continued for clarity, “I did something bad to you. Last night when you were asleep—”

Oh this was hard. His brows lifted and you had his attention. Your words, the seriousness of then sharpened his eyes on you as you spoke.

“Last night, Mia messaged you...after the date.”

Baekhyun’s eyebrows furrowed and he was watching you very closely as the words emerged. His eyes were focused on your face and his mind was processing what you were telling him. He was still sleepy but your words were pulling him out of it. His hands gripped the cellphone you’d pushed into his hands.

“I opened the app you made for me. I read a message that Mia sent you. She wanted to meet you for coffee t-today— this afternoon, in less than an hour.”

You could feel your control slipping as you spoke the truth about the awful thing you had done and you had to look down and away from his face as you continued your confession otherwise that thickness you felt in your throat would come through in your voice. Otherwise you might not make it through this without crying. You promised yourself already that you would not do that. You had to get this out and it had to be clear and controlled. You did not deserve his sympathy or even his forgiveness. This violation had been inexcusable.

Your own hands were empty. You’d given him your phone and he was holding it now.

“I pretended to be you, told her you would meet her and then I deleted the messages so you would not see them. So that you would stand her up. It was wrong of me. It was a mistake. I’m sorry. You can delete the app, or change the permissions or do something. I’m sorry. I know you trusted me and I messed it all up — Baekhyun, you can still make it. You can get ready and go meet her for coffee. She had something she wanted to ask you. If you get ready now, you won't miss her. She wont get stood up because — because I fucked up and I acted like an asshole.”

Baekhyun’s sleepy face had changed as you spoke. You inhaled a deep breath and looked into his eyes and you found him watching you with a new hardness in his eyes that you hadn’t seen before and his hand gripped tight enough to snap around your cell phone.

You could feel the blood under your skin just at the surface, heating your flesh and flushing your cheeks. You pulled your lips tight to keep the tremble out of them and he was watching your face too closely for you to be able to keep up the eye contact.

“Bug, why would you do that?” He spoke through clenched teeth and all traces of his earlier sleep were gone.

“I’m sorry. It just felt so bad and I knew it was wrong but I did it anyway and I have no excuse.”

You felt the bed move when he shifted and he was pushing himself up into a full seated position with his legs hanging over the side of his bed.

The movement made you push back and away, clearing a path for him to get up. You knew he had to get ready quickly if he wanted to make it in time. What if there was traffic?

“You still have time to make it— if you go now,” you said with a quick glance up into his eyes and you noticed he’d abandoned your phone on his bed as he moved. “She’ll be waiting for you.”

Baekhyun wasn’t standing yet and he was still looking at you with that odd hardness in his eyes and a very slight back and forth head shake as his only significant movement.

Your mind was preoccupied with the ticking clock on the wall and he was still just sitting there on his bed looking at you.

Yes, you had disappointed him. Yes, you had fucked up. But you were trying here. You were trying to make this right and you knew it wasn’t fair to him to throw this surprise coffee date on him at the last second but you’d fucked up and you couldn't think of any other way to fix it other than to get that man to stand up and get dressed so he could go meet her right now.

You reached for his hand and you grabbed lightly around his wrist and you pulled.

“Baekhyun. You need to move. You’re not moving. Please.” Your pleas were growing desperate. How in the world would you fix it if he wouldn't let you fix it?

“Is it because you were upset about Ben?” When he finally moved it was not his body or his legs it was his mouth and you let your hand sag with his wrist still suspended in your grasp.

He moved then, Baekhyun stood up and you let your hand fall away from his arm, pulling your arms up awkwardly to cross them over your chest. You took another step away. The discomfort flowed through your entire body. You’d created this problem. This was all your fault. This atmosphere was unbearable and you could only blame yourself.

You were looking down at your feet and you wished he wasn’t watching your face as closely as he was as his eyes roamed over your pained expression. He was still shaking his head and you could tell that he was trying his hardest to make sense out of your terrible actions.

You were his friend. Surely his friend had to have a good and valid reason for doing this to him, right? Surely it wasn’t just because maybe she was a bad person and did bad things.

With your eyes on your feet though, it was easier to shake your head and deny that Ben had anything at all to do with why you’d attempted to sabotage his new relationship.

“Baekhyun, you can still make it,” your voice was a whisper. You could feel your careful resolve crumbling the longer you stood here under his watchful eyes. You could feel it in your chest. Your breathing pushed hard against your lungs that fought against the oxygen and your heart pounded so noisily inside of you that you began to wonder if that had been the clock you heard all along or your own rhythmic countdown forecasting your demise.

You had to shake your head. You had to squeeze your eyes tight and push with all of your might. You couldn't face this. It was too hard.

“If not Ben—” he was speaking again. Your eyes were closed.

“Then why?” you heard an inhale of breath from him and it was trembling. The sound of his pain, the sound of his suffering called to you and you opened your eyes to look at him. His eyes were closed and he had a hand raised with his fingers held up.

The agitation you heard in his breathing moved him and his body came to life as he shifted on his feet, spinning in a slow circle where he stood, he lifted both of his hands to run through his hair and his eyes were closed up tight enough for his vision to go white.

“You can’t do this to me. You can’t do this to me again. It’s not fair.” He was speaking under his breath and you were drawn to his words as confusion rushed over your thoughtful mind. The part of your mind that made sense of things was left in a cloud.

Again? Had you really hurt him this badly before? Your memory raced through the history you had with him and you looked over his features in worry.

When his eyes opened back up he was looking into your face with that same dark look, the look that made you want to shrink up and hide from it. The look that somehow saw you for exactly what you were and knew just how bad of a person you could be.

“I’m trying to fix it — I don't know what to do, Baekhyun. I don't know what I should do.”

Your feet had carried you toward his door. You could feel the overwhelming urge to escape this. To escape your own mistakes and problems and run from them. To leave this place and to hide from the way he was looking at you right now. He was still just shaking his head and staring at you. He wasn’t moving to get showered or dressed or changed even, he wasn’t grabbing his keys or his phone to leave to go meet her, why didn’t he do something?

He must have noticed your movement. Baekhyun took several large steps toward where you’d wandered near his door and you froze when he moved.

He was upset. You could see it in the way he carried his body through the space and you heard it in the rough way he pulled at the doorknob to his bedroom and swung it open.

You’d half expected him to head toward the front door. Maybe he’d forgotten that he needed to change out of his comfy sweats if he was going to meet a girl for coffee.

He left his door open and you followed his quick steps. You followed the path he took through the living room and you turned when he turned toward your bedroom. You stood back as you watched his hand turn your door knob and he disappeared through your doorway, into your bedroom. You heard your closet. Your heart felt like it was throbbing inside of your chest when you saw him emerge with a familiar bag; your big suitcase, the one that was still stuffed full with your coats from the last time you had been convinced you needed to pack up and leave this place you called home.

You felt like you might be sick.

Did he want you to leave? Was he packing your bag for you? The panic that grew in your belly was powerful and it threw you back against the wall of the hallway that led to your bedroom.

This was it. He’d finally had enough of your shit. This was it.

You’d done it.

You’d lost your best friend.

Baekhyun had disappeared with your bag and you heard a door shut somewhere within his room. You heard the sound of a set of keys. There was a ringing in your ears.

“Tell me why.” His voice was back. He was back. He was standing in front of you and you looked up into his eyes and the breath he inhaled trembled as it went in and filled his lungs with air. He lifted a hand and his fingers shook as he rubbed them over his mouth. “You can’t run away now. I have your bag. Tell me why. Why did you do that?”

He’d gone for your bag first. Just as you had always gone for the bag the minute something snapped in you and you’d convinced yourself that you could simply leave if things got too uncomfortable or too hard to bear. It felt significant. It felt like your reckoning. You couldn't run away this time. He knew you would try that first and Baekhyun wasn’t going to let you; not until he had the truth.

“You always have a good reason. You always make sense — to me. You always make sense to me. Everything you do, I understand why you do it. But...this, it doesn’t make any sense. You’re the one who picked her. You’re the one who started this. You’re the one pushing me to go to her. Why did you do this? Why are you doing this to me? It’s so unfair.”  

Baekhyun’s voice was unstable. His hands were trembling and you could feel the deep frustration in his words. He was right. He was completely right.

No false explanation you could come up with would make any sense.

Only the truth made sense.

The humming in your ears and the burning in your eyes and the pounding in your chest had built up too much. It was too hard to control. It was too hard to contain.

The longer you sat in it; the longer you withstood it, the less you wanted of it.

You closed your eyes and you let it out.

It came out as a whisper.

“I told you, I was shameless.”

They hit you like a bomb. Those words that you spoke out loud to him; with your own mouth. Your own voice that betrayed you so completely.

The aftershocks echoed around inside of your head and you blinked fast and hard, trying to control the stinging wetness that pooled inside of your eyes.

Baekhyun had gone completely still.

You could no longer hear the unstable breathing from his lungs.

“What did you just say?” His voice had no strength left. You could not look at him.

Oh no.

You’d done it.

You had to inhale to live. You had to open your eyes and you rolled them around to keep the moisture at bay, looking everywhere except for him. You felt like crying. You felt like losing your flimsy control once and for all and screaming, sobbing, falling to the floor to deal with this incredible anxious feeling that was surging up inside of your body.

It was out. That secret of yours. It ripped you apart when it exited and you felt more unstable than you’d ever felt. You were about to cave in. Control was overrated anyway.

“I told you I act dumb and desperate and jealous, Baekhyun. I told you I make mistakes. I’m shameless.”

You heard the step he took. It was a stumble. Your words had thrown his balance off and he caught the step quickly. The sound of it pulled your focus.

Baekhyun looked at you, a stunned expression on his face and his eyes, his eyes which always held so much comfort and security for you, those eyes that were always so warm, they traveled over your entire face as his lips fell open.

“What does that mean?” His lips hardly moved when he spoke. You watched a hand lift and it landed squarely over his chest and there was a movement in his fingers; an involuntary shake in them. His fingers flexed and he clawed over his chest.

“Does that mean...do you mean...what I think you mean?”

You felt the first tear fall. It slipped out and ran down your face and you lifted a hand to wipe it quickly.

“It means I’m in love with you, Baekhyun. I’m sorry. I was jealous of her. I couldn't watch you and her like that. So I acted like that — I did that to her, to you both. I don't know what to do. I don't know how to stop loving you. I don't even know where to start.”

Your breathing was heavy. Your face was wet and whatever flimsy control you thought you had over yourself had shattered with your honest confession. More than just what you had done to him, this felt so much more damning. This was the truth about what was inside your heart.

This was the scariest thing you had ever told him. It felt so much worse than when you told him you’d lost your job and would start looking for a new place to live.

The silence that surrounded you amplified your labored breathing and you’d given up on catching the tears that slipped down your cheeks. There was no stopping it. You’d been a fool to think that you could hide this.

Baekhyun hadn’t moved. He stood frozen a few feet away from you and when he did move it was to lift a palm to cover over his face for a moment.

“Are you serious?” You heard him say. You swallowed hard and squeezed your eyes closed. “Bug, are you serious? You—”

“You’re in love with me?”

You wrapped your arms around your stomach tightly and with your eyes closed you nodded your head once.

Your ears caught movement.

Baekhyun was moving. Your fear and your shame flashed images into your mind, images of him vanishing; images of him closing himself up in his room; images of him telling you he just couldn't live with you any more.

Baekhyun was moving. You could hear him. Your eyes burned and begged to open and when you gave in you flinched to find him standing right in front of you. He was here. He stood in front of you and his eyes were wide on your face.

In those eyes you saw what you could only describe as a look of concern. Baekhyun was looking at your face and the warmth that arrived with his body heat coated you. Inside of your chest, something was building, something was burning, something was changing inside of you with the look in his eyes you could not pull your own eyes away from him when he was standing so close to you like this.

The wall behind your back was so cold and he was warm.

He was moving. His hands were moving. You felt the warmth of his palms land over your wet cheeks and he was wiping your tears, drying the wetness from your skin with the palms of his hands and with his soft fingertips. He moved so gently over you. He touched you so carefully. The pounding inside of your chest raged out of control. The ragged breathing that had ahold of you earlier seized up and you could feel the dizziness building upon itself, yet you could not make your lungs cooperate; not with him so close to you. Not with him looking at you up close with that look in his eyes and his hands still holding your face.

“LoveBug.” His whispered breath warmed your mouth. The soft name he called you coated the back of your tongue like some sweetened medicine. You swallowed down the moisture that pooled and he was close enough to you that his breathing fanned against your lips, over your tongue when your lips parted.

“Do you know that I belong to you?” It came out as a whisper. This tiny question that lit you on fire. Your lungs burned.

“Do you know that?”

You felt another tear escape and he leaned into you then. You felt too stunned to react. This did not feel real. Perhaps you had actually fallen asleep last night and you were dreaming. The warm brush of his thumb below your eye, wiping the wetness away again and again as the tears fell. The warm puff of his breath over your closed eyelid and the softness of his lips that pressed a kiss onto the softness of your cheek where your tears had just been dried.

“I belong to you. I’m yours. I’ve loved you for so long.”

These words he said pulled your eyes into his.

The discord in your brain echoed. How was this real? Nothing was making sense inside of your head, so you exhaled through it. You let your lungs deflate and the final bursts of air that left your lungs pulled your eyelids down halfway and you couldn’t stand the distance, you had to touch him. His hands were so warm and his eyes were so magnetic and what was he saying to you? He loved you.

He loved you.

Baekhyun loved you. He said so himself. He said he was yours and he’d gone still again, his breathing stopped puffing over your skin when your hands reached for his waist and you gripped around his shirt, bunching the fabric as you pulled. There was a step, to keep his balance and he moved closer to you.

Warmth. Heat. He was everywhere. That smell of him; the scent of the spaces within his bedsheets that smelled like him, his breath, his lungs, his heart inside of his body. With the contact of your hands around his waist you could feel so much of him. When your hands traveled up over the center of this back you felt the wild beating echoing inside of his chest.

It sounded a lot like what was happening inside of your own chest.

The distance evaporated with your hands on him. You felt the softness of his cheek against your own. You heard the quiet grunt from the back of his throat when the tip of his nose brushed over yours and his lips traveled over your entire face. Over the smoothness of your forehead and a path over your eyebrow; up the hill of your cheekbone and down through the softness of your cheek. He was exploring your face with his lips and the spell he put you under was deep. You would have floated away had it not been for the occasional labored puff of air from his parted lips. A mark of his struggle to keep his breathing under control. The man was magic.

His touch was so light and delicate you wondered how he could stand this with as fast as his heart was beating inside of his chest. His hands were moving away from the way he cupped your cheeks and caught stray tears, he moved a single hand to the back of your head, moving lower to cradle the back of your neck and his other hand traced the shape of your jaw with lightly touching fingertips until he reached your lips.

With his eyes half closed and with zero hesitation he moved then. You felt him move. Your eyes were already closed when you felt his lips cover yours.

It began with softness; that same uncertain, wary softness that led his movements. His kiss was gentle and his lips were asking.

The question was quiet.

Your response was not. Your hands pulled hard over his back. His chest was flush with yours already but the constriction of your hold on him sent a clear message.

When your lips parted to his you felt the wetness of his tongue brush against yours and you pulled against him, pulled him into your mouth and the hold of his hand behind your head changed as his grip tightened and his fingers threaded within your hair.

His other hand slipped around your waist and he pulled you tight against his firm warmth. Everything about the kiss was changing. There was an urgency that took over every cell of your body and you were feeling dizzy and when his lips pulled away for a second, you gasped for air from within his parted lips. You could not break the kiss. You could survive inside of his mouth forever. You didn’t even need air that badly.

Baekhyun did not break the contact either. Your desire for closeness was building further and your hands pushed the warm fleece of his sweater up and away from his skin. You felt the first smooth warm bits of the bare skin of his waist and your own skin erupted all over with goosebumps when you felt the tips of his fingers slip under the fabric of your shirt at the small of your back.

It was your own wandering hands that did it. You touched first, the small of his back, then your hand wandered around his waist, as you made your way around to the front of him you heard the low whine that erupted from deep within his body. It was a long frustrated sound and the sound of it pulled your lips into a smile.

Your fingertips were close. You know enough about human anatomy to know that slipping your hand along the waistband at the front of his sweatpants and hooking your index finger just inside the fabric as you moved; well, it was only a matter of time until you were brushing below his navel and you felt Baekhyun jolt back and away from you when you’d done it.

“Fuck,” he cursed with his lips flush against yours and you couldn’t help any of it. He’d put you well under his spell and you wanted every bit of the man. Clearly your hand had come too close and he wasn’t expecting it.

“This is like living out all of my fantasies at once multiplied by a hundred. I don’t think I can take this.”

Baekhyun pulled his face back and away from you then. You used the respite to finally breathe in a deep enough breath to touch that dizziness you’d been feeling. It didn't help much. Was it the desire? You had never felt quite so desperate for another human being to touch you before.

You ached for it. The attention he showed with his wandering fingertips over every bit of skin he could find and the way his eyes and his lips touched you. Nothing about the desire you were feeling felt normal.

Baekhyun dropped a hand from you. It was the hand that had held the back of your neck. He took another step back and placed his hand over his chest. He was looking at you again with a shell shocked expression on his face and lips very pink and swollen from the passion you’d felt in those kisses.

“I feel like my heart is going to explode.” He said and you saw his lips pull into a smile. He was still breathing hard and his gaze changed into something of wonder.

“You like me.” His eyes closed up and the smile pulled wider. You were blinded by it. It was contagious. You could not stop your own smile from mirroring his. “You love me. She fucking loves me.”

“I love you,” you agreed softly. It tasted like relief. It was sweet and satisfying and toothsome. You were wrecked. You probably looked like hell after the sleepless night and all of that crying. He watched you as if you were the most beautiful thing he’d ever laid eyes on. You could see it so clearly. Your eyes sharpened to so much the more you looked around, the clearer your focus became and your eyes were drawn to the wall behind his head.

There, a clock had just struck one.

“What do we do about Mia,” you were the one to say it and still hated the sour taste of the guilt that still sat on the back of your tongue when her name came up. You hadn’t quite considered this outcome. You hadn’t ever considered this.

“Oh god, Mia,” he said. “Oh no.” The smile on his face was gone and you could see the regret land over his features. “I — I think I need to go make a phone call.”

He spoke the words and you nodded your head. Of course he did. Of course you understood completely. Of course his body was still very close to you and of course you could feel the desire to pull him back into your arms and into your mouth.

Baekhyun hadn’t stepped back yet. His words said one thing yet his hands were moving again and he reached for you, wrapping both of his arms around your waist this time he pulled tight and you felt the strength in his arm muscles as he did it.

His face dipped and he kissed you again. You could not resist his lips despite the ticking clock. You craved him. You hadn’t been nearly satisfied enough yet and you wondered if you could ever get enough of him.

His soft lips; the pull of suction inside of his mouth; his tongue; his teeth all demanded and took from you and you wove your fingers into his hair and held him tight as you kissed him back.

You both pulled away at the same time and his labored breathing marked the significant struggle he was facing in letting go and walking away. You did not think it was possible to love this man any more than you already did, but this unrestrained side of him was making your stomach do flips.

“Do you want me to go with you? This is my fault after all.”

He rested his forehead against yours and both of his arms were still wrapped tightly around your waist. He’d been standing still with both of his eyes closed since he’d pulled his mouth away from yours.

You felt him shake his head back and forth and he hummed a no sound from the back of his throat.

“I think I can do it alone,” he said before inhaling a deep breath and exhaling it slowly as he pulled his face back, straightened his shoulders and dropped his arms.

He’d spun on his feet and taken two steps before he turned around and undid all of his progress with two more big steps back in your direction and a grimace of failure on his face.

His hands were up and he was reaching for you again, grabbing you roughly by the cheeks, ignoring the giggles that erupted from your chest as he leaned in and kissed you again. He was smiling too and the first seconds of the kiss was just teeth bumping teeth before you complied and relaxed enough to receive the quick succession of peppered kisses he pressed into your mouth.

“How can I walk away? Turn me around and push me. I can’t walk away from you.”

You were in big trouble. You knew he could be really cute if he wanted to be. You’d had trouble with it in the past.

But this time his intense level of adorableness was caused by his struggle to stop kissing you. You were pretty certain you were even more whipped than you’d ever been for anything ever. If faced with the choice of denying this man or throwing a bag full of puppies off a cliff, you were pretty certain you’d toss the damn dogs just to let this Baekhyun have his way.

How to be the strong one here? All you wanted to do was keep kissing him forever.

“Baekhyun, it’s after one already,” you said, doing your best impression of your serious voice.

“Yes ma’am.” His hands left your face and his lips pulled back into an O shape as he exhaled a breath with his eyes trained pointedly on the ceiling instead of on your face.

This time when he spun on his feet he didn’t look back and you fisted your hands tightly at your side to keep from reaching for him and pulling him back into you after he’d finally built up the strength to resist the incredible magnetism you both clearly had for each other.

His absence afforded you a moment of quiet; a moment of peaceful thought. The aftereffects of what had just happened still buzzed around inside of your chest, inside your belly, and lower; the lingering warmth purred, making it impossible to ignore the incredible effect even this much of his affection had on you.

You had to return to your bedroom to collect yourself. You’d never be able to face him again without throwing yourself at him in desperation and based on the way he’d flinched when you grazed your fingertip along the waistband of his sweatpants, something was telling you the man was simply not ready for such a huge step in such a short amount of time.

The last thing you wanted was to make him feel pressured to do anything he wasn't ready for.

You were an adult. You could be reasonable and you could control yourself.

With a cold shower and a cold drink of water you could survive this. Maybe you would slip and fall in the shower and bang your head and wake up to him giving you mouth to mouth with his hands on your chest giving you life saving chest compressions that would turn into a steamy make out session with some second base heavy petting in the middle of your bathroom floor. One thing could lead to another. You would already be naked and he’d have just saved your life. Surely the situation would make anyone emotional enough to pop their cherry with the girl of their fucking dreams. Really, he’d have just saved your life and you would be ever so grateful if he could also fuck you while he was at it.

The cold water didn’t help at all.

The cold shower at least helped with the absolute wreck you saw when you looked in the mirror. Had you really looked this bad? You hadn’t slept for shit. You hadn’t eaten your sad floppy toast or had any coffee on your upset stomach and your eyes were puffy from all the crying. You must have simply forgotten that you had any hair at all. It looked exactly like it must have looked when you crawled out from the depths of your bed. At this point you wouldn't be surprised to find some leaves or sticks tangled within the rat’s nest.

At least you hadn’t been wearing any makeup on your eyes to create dramatic black streaks down your cheeks, but a little lipstick or blush on your cheeks might have helped some. Anything would have helped. While you confessed your love to this beautiful man you looked like something scraped off the front grill of a semi truck after a 12 hour haul.

You took a few extra moments after your shower to fix whatever you could. It was a delicate balance. You didn't want to make it obvious that you’d gone through the trouble to make yourself super sexy and appealing looking, but you also couldn't just go back out there looking homeless and lost.

You settled for something in between. Something natural and clean looking on your face. Something pretty smelling on your freshly scrubbed skin and you made your way toward your closet wearing your favorite matching bra and panties set.

There was a little lace and just enough push to make your boobs look hot, but still in a neutral enough color that gave a cool and casual ‘oh this ol’ thing?’ feeling should the opportunity for him to actually see it somehow manifested.

Your real dilemma came as you stood in front of your closet.

Did you really need to wear pants? Couldn’t you just prance around your living room in your thinnest white t-shirt and pick things up off the floor that you’d clumsily knocked off the table or the bookshelf or the kitchen counter?

You compromised, picking out a short flouncy skirt and flowy top that liked to fall off the shoulder at inconvenient times and you practically ran out of your room hoping you hadn’t left him stewing in his post difficult phone call mood for too long.

On your way out of your room a familiar piece of paper stuck to the wood caught your eye and you took a step back to look up at the sign you’d hung there a few weeks ago. You tried to be casual about it. You tried your best to be quiet as you carefully lifted the tape that clung to the surface of the door and the paper rattled and crinkled noisily as you pulled. You heard the telltale sounds of paper ripping in half when you pulled. You’d forgotten to carefully lift the tape you put on the sides and the whole thing made quite a racket coming down. So much for discretion.

You were crumbling the whole mess into a tight ball inside your hands as you walked toward the living room and you caught movement on the sofa.

Baekhyun was sitting there it’s his eyes on your hallway, clearly looking up when he heard you coming. His hands were linked over his lap and he was leaning forward, resting on his forearms.

The instinct to hide it was strong and you saw the dip of Baekhyun’s eyes down to your hands and he looked at the ball of paper you hid inside your fist.

He’d just caught you. You’d ripped off your ‘No Boners’ sign from your door and Baekhyun had seen you do it. Now he was looking away from you and his eyes were wide as he stared across the room, looking anywhere that wasn’t at you. His face was tense. His lips were pulled tight and after a few seconds of blank staring he lifted his left hand to cover over his mouth a moment after you saw his white teeth flash with a wide smile and he closed his eyes up. A single snort of laughter escaped from him before he reeled it in and held his breath to stop it.

You had to save it. You had to be casual, dammit. You looked fucking cute right now and this man was in love with you and you loved him too and — God, his hair was wet. He was wearing a plain black t-shirt and jeans and everything about him looked casual and beautiful, you were staring. You were staring. You had to stop staring. You had to do something to save this.

You stuffed the paper ball into your pocket and took enough steps to reach the counter of the kitchen bar and you stuck an arm out and leaned against it.

You leaned because leaning was ultra casual and you also thought you might drop from the tension you were feeling inside your body right now if you relied only on your own two legs to hold you up.

How could absolutely none of the effects of your cooling shower have lasted the second you saw him again?

“Hi,” you said as you fought an embarrassed smile and the leaning felt so forced you closed your eyes to will your own face to un-flush.

Baekhyun dropped his hand from his face and his cheeks were pink to match his lips. He was smiling wide, clearly amused by your nonsense. You saw his chest shaking as he laughed and he lifted his hand and bit down on his closed fist. The laughter did not last long. He was looking at you though and his wide smile evened out when he dropped his hand. His eyes did not drop from your face. Not right away. You caught the drift when they did though and the heat you felt increased when you noticed the slow way he took you in from the glimpse of your bare shoulder down to the shortness of your skirt and down the length of your bare legs. His eyebrow danced once over his left eye and his tongue peaked out to moisten his lips before he bit down on the bottom one.

“Hi Bug,” he said.

Well, this was new.

...

[To Be Continued]

Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 3 , Part 4 , Part 5 , Part 6 , Part 7 , Part 8 , Part 9 , Part 10 , FINAL Part 10.5

Tag list: @j-pping  @blahblahblah-boo  @his-mochi-cheeks  @amyeonzing@littleflowercrown13  @baekinmylife  @insta1010  @nana-banana  @f4ncyvelvet@bbhbeth  @totallynerdstuff  @byunbabybaek @maijinki @bbyunz@theclawofaraven @kingkushdealer  @uhobob @baekswifey @punchmebaekhyun @xlxbaekhyuneex @sorrowinblood @catseohyun @rossemayme @pastelsweaters-and-bubble-t @marovekian1 @versaexact

#Baekhyun #baekhyun fic #baekhyun fanfic #exo fic #exo fanfic #exo ff #baekhyun smut #baekhyun series #exo smut #exo fluff #exo series #baekhyun fluff

[golchaworld]

You See Love Is A Game (And I Still Want to Play) | C.YJ

➳ pairing: campus player!yeonjun x female reader

➳ genre: college!au, angst, suggestive fluff

➳ word count: ~5.2k

➳ warnings: some suggestive moments, language, super brief mention of death, set in a nursing home, ambiguous/open ending, bi!yeonjun (not a warning but it’s there lol)

➳ summary: A workplace romance is a cliche.  But if it’s not a romance, that should be perfectly fine, too.  It sure seems to be fine with Yeonjun.  So why isn’t it fine with you?

A/N: Y’all this took me forever! I’m kind of happy with the way this turned out though. As always, feedback is encouraged! Requests and prompts are also always encouraged so don’t be shy. Also there is a high possibility of a part two for this, so if you’re interested feel free to let me know.  The title is from “Don’t Wanna Fall In Love” by KYLE.

Part Two

Choi Yeonjun was nothing but leather jackets, perfectly styled hair, and sleazy smirks. His look fit his character to a tee. He was a loud, obnoxious player who could have anyone on their knees for him with just a smirk and his signature wink. 

You hated it. 

Sure, college is the time to explore yourself and your sexuality, and you were never one to judge. But to see someone taking so much pride in being known as nothing but a player was a tad bit...unsettling to you. As a psychology major, you always wondered what was going on inside Yeonjun’s head that made him so okay with his reputation. However, you never got close enough to pick his brain. 

Keeping your distance from Yeonjun was something you decided in your first semester. You had been walking down the hallway of your dorm (the one he unfortunately lived in as well), ready to set out for the day when you were met with a shocking sight. Yeonjun had been walking out of the bathroom, freshly showered. His towel was knotted low on his waist, exposing his toned torso that was littered with drops of water. 

The minute he noticed you staring, Yeonjun pulled out the classic smirk and wink before walking away. To say you were left with flushed cheeks for the rest of the day was an understatement. 

You couldn’t deny that the boy was attractive. There was something so enticing about his cocky demeanor and careless walk that drew you in. His plush lips were always drawn up into that greasy smirk that highlighted his high cheekbones and strong jaw. His hair was always perfect, even when it was messy, and he was always dressed to the nine. 

In short, Choi Yeonjun was infuriatingly attractive. 

And as you found out, fury, disgust, and attraction proved to be a dangerous mix. It had your stomach in knots every time you so much as caught sight of the boy.  If anyone were to ask you, it was out of a weird distaste for him, but you knew better.

Which is why you find yourself currently in the library, trying extremely hard to focus on your 19th century literature homework as Yeonjun sits at a table a few paces away.  He’s flirting with the innocent boy who sits at the table with him.  You can easily tell by the way Yeonjun’s smirk is sitting on his face and the fact that the other boy’s cheeks are dusted with pink that he’s doing well.

You internally roll your eyes, averting your gaze back to Frankenstein in order to not be caught staring.  Leave it to Choi Yeonjun to turn a place of learning into an opportunity to score.  In all honesty, it shouldn’t bother you as much as it does.  But you can’t help the way your mind runs an internal rant about Yeonjun’s antics, when in reality it has nothing to do with you.

As you grow more tired, it becomes harder to focus on your homework, leaving you distracted.  Yeonjun still sits with the seemingly innocent boy, apparently still laying on the charm thick if their hushed giggles are anything to go by.  Part of you can’t help but be jealous of the boy.  It must be nice to have all of Yeonjun’s attention, even if only for a fleeting moment.

You’re too busy pondering that thought to notice that you’ve been staring.  Suddenly, Yeonjun’s eyes meet yours from across the room, and you know you’ve been caught.  You’re quick to avert your gaze then, cheeks heating at the thought of Yeonjun knowing that you were staring at him.

God forbid he knows why.  You would never hear the end of it.

Shaking your head, you force yourself to focus back on Frankenstein.  You’re nearing the end of your assigned pages when you feel a set of eyes on you.  The gaze is piercing, demanding your immediate attention, but you don’t give in, letting your eyes process the words on each page instead.

It’s only minutes later when the chair across from you shifts, and you look up to see it being claimed by none other than Choi Yeonjun.  You only spare him a brief glance before burying your nose into your book.  You hope he doesn’t notice the way your cheeks have heated up just from his mere presence.

“You know,” Yeonjun whispers, mindful of your location.  “It’s not polite to stare.”

“I wasn’t staring,” you respond, not once looking up from your book.

Yeonjun chuckles under his breath, and when you look up to meet his eyes, he’s looking at you in sheer amusement.  His lips are quirked up, but not quite in his normal cocky smirk.  He seems friendly, almost.

“What’s your name?”

“Y/N,” you respond hesitantly.

“Well, Y/N,” Yeonjun says as he begins to stand from the table.  “Next time you want my attention, just say so.  The staring thing is kind of creepy.”

The tall boy pushes in his chair, surprisingly respectful despite his demeanor.  He spares you a wink paired with his signature smirk before he walks away, leaving you with unfinished reading and a flame of annoyance flickering in your stomach.

.        .        .

One of the pains of being a psychology major is the need for you to participate in field research.  It takes up a huge amount of time, and requires more writing than you initially thought, but at least you get to decide what and where you want to research.

Very honestly, studying geriatric psychology in a nursing home isn’t exactly your first choice for research.  But when your professor mentions that they are in dire need of research help, you can’t find it in your heart to say no.

When it is finally the first day of your research, you can’t help but feel a little nervous.  You know the procedure, and you have all of your interview questions written down, but you still can’t help the jitters that accompany doing anything for the first time.  It doesn’t help that you have to go in alone, your supervisor choosing to stay in the lab while you do the field work.

Your knee bounces the entire bus ride to the nursing home, making the fabric of your dress jump around your legs.  The short pumps you’ve stuffed your feet into begin to hurt the minute you walk into the nursing home, and you can already tell it’s going to be a long day.

Lucky for you, the home is warm and inviting.  The walls are a warm cream color, decorated with the occasional piece of artwork.  It’s surprisingly busy, filled with staff, visitors, and residents, all chatting away or busying themselves with a board game.

You make your way to the front desk slowly, still taking in your surroundings.  When you arrive, you’re greeted by a dimpled boy sitting behind the desk, giving you a soft smile as he welcomes you to the home.

“How can I help you?”

You swallow down your nerves, suddenly made worse by the boy in front of you.  He’s cute...like really cute.  “Um, I’m Y/N.  I’m here for research.  I work with Dr. Seo.”

The boy behind the desk lights up, dimples growing deeper as he smiles fully.  “Oh!  It’s so nice to meet you.  Dr. Seo told us he’d send someone in, but didn’t mention who.  I’m Soobin, by the way.”

Soobin extends a hand and you shake it, smiling softly at the boy’s bubbly demeanor.  He’s quick to stand, grabbing a folder full of papers from the desk before coming around to meet you on the other side.  He motions for you to follow him.

“Normally researchers don’t actually do much on the first day.  They just kind of come in and survey the place and take notes.”  Soobin leads you down a long hallway, smiling and greeting the residents as you pass them.  By the way everyone lights up at his presence, you can tell he’s well liked.  “Last year, I was the one who kind of showed everyone around, but now they have me working the front desk so I really can’t anymore.”

The boy stops in front of an open room, which appears to be some kind of break room. There’s a fridge in the corner, plastered with pictures and colored magnets. The rest of the space is filled with a few tables, one of which is occupied by what seems to be a group of volunteers. 

“Hey guys, this is Y/N. She works with Dr. Seo,” Soobin announces, grabbing the attention of those around the table. 

The last person’s eyes you expect to meet are Yeonjun’s. Yet here he is, staring back at you in his mint green scrubs as he munches on a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. He looks sincere for a moment until something within him clicks, when the corner of his lips quirk up into a smirk. You feel your heart fall into the pit of your stomach. 

Soobin doesn’t seem to notice the shift in atmosphere, and continues his announcement. “I have to go back to the front to help Hyunjin, but can one of you guys show Y/N around? She’ll need to know where things basically are and where to set up.” 

Yeonjun’s standing up before Soobin even finishes his sentence. “I’ll do it,” he offers. 

Soobin’s face pulls into a relieved smile, dimples popping out in gratitude. “Perfect,” the boy places a large hand on your shoulder. “You’re in good hands with Yeonjun. I’ll be at the desk if you need anything. It was nice meeting you.”

You nod at the tall boy, watching as he sets back off down the hallway from which you can. When you turn back to the break room, you notice that Yeonjun has already cleared his stuff away, leaving his friends with an exaggerated salute that has them all laughing. He brushes past you in the doorway, mumbling for you to follow him as you set out further into the nursing home. 

“You just couldn’t get enough of me, huh?” Yeonjun throws a wink over his shoulder. 

You roll your eyes. “You wish. I couldn’t give less of a shit about you working here.”

“Rule number one, sweetheart, is that you can’t curse around the residents. So watch that mouth of yours.”

Warmth rises to your cheeks at the use of the pet name. You can tell Yeonjun doesn’t mean anything by it, but it still leaves a fluttering in your stomach anyways. 

The tall boy leads you up a flight of stairs, and it’s then when you notice how different he looks. All of his piercings are left void of jewelry. Instead of his hair slicked back with a hard gel, it’s left natural, soft and shaggy. He’s not wearing any bracelets or rings like he usually does, and you smile internally. You like the way this Yeonjun looks. 

“We’ll start at the top and make our way down, okay?” The boy’s voice echoes in the stairwell, twisting the pitch as the sound reverberates. 

You nod before realizing that he can’t see you from his position in front of you. “Sounds good.”

It’s evident that Yeonjun has been volunteering here for a while, exhibited by the ease through which he guides you around.  He turns swiftly around each corner, knowing exactly which hallways are dead ends and which bring you further into the facility.  The residents all greet him warmly as the two of you pass, and the older women seem especially fond of him.

Apparently no one is immune to Choi Yeonjun’s charm.

You’re amazed by the time the two of you return to the first floor.  The nursing home is huge, much bigger than what you expected when you first walked in.  Yeonjun leads you back down the same hallway through which you came earlier, past the front desk, and through a smaller hallway that leads away from the heart of the home.

When Yeonjun stops in front of a small room, he sighs.  He opens the door swiftly to reveal what looks like an office.  It’s equipped with a desk, some file cabinets, and an assortment of comfortable chairs and pillows.

“This is going to be your office while you work here.  Once upon a time, it was mine,” Yeonjun’s eyes meet yours, holding a surprising air of authority.  “Treat it right.”

You just chuckle awkwardly in response, not knowing how to respond.  And then it hits you.  This office was his at some point.  The revelation has your eyebrows furrowing.

“You were with a research team?”

Yeonjun nods curtly.  “I’m a developmental biology major.  What better place to study the last phases of life than in a nursing home?”

Your jaw drops in surprise.  “A developmental biology major? I would have never assumed that.”

Yeonjun chuckles bitterly.  “You don’t know me.  I think it’s a little inappropriate for you to be assuming anything.”

The air in the room is stale, emphasizing the discomfort that you feel after Yeonjun’s words.  He’s right, of course, that you don’t know anything about him other than the fact that he gets around a lot.  And he doesn’t even know that you know that.  You choose to just apologize softly, which has the smirk rising on his face.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” Yeonjun looks a little too smug.  “Like I said, just treat this place with care.  You can make yourself at home here.  Whenever you’re ready to leave, just let Soobin know so he can sign you out.”

“Um, sure.  Thanks, by the way.”  Yeonjun cocks an eyebrow.  “For showing me around and stuff.  I’ll make sure to take care of your office.”

“Well it’s yours now, sweetheart.”

With another wink, Yeonjun is gone, leaving you once again with flushed cheeks and unfinished work.

.        .       .

The first week of trying to incorporate research into your already hectic schedule is a disaster.  You only have to go into the nursing home two more times, and yet they manage to be the most jam-packed days you have had in awhile.

Working in geriatrics also proves to be more difficult than you’ve expected.  Some residents are difficult and mouthy, while some are sweet but forget the question the minute it leaves your mouth.  The whole interviewing process is extremely stressful, made worse by the way you have to relive the moments afterwards when you transcribe the interviews.

Additionally, you can’t decide if seeing Yeonjun everyday in your place of work is a blessing or a curse.  You admit that he’s a sight for sore eyes after a long day, but he can also be extremely distracting with the flirtatious winks he sends you from down the hall.  It seems like every time he sees you, he makes it his mission to fluster you as much as possible.

Occasionally he engages you in normal conversation, and that seems to fluster you the most. It’s when you gossip about the residents or tell cheesy jokes that you find yourself red in the face, absolutely smitten. It’s overwhelming how much you have grown to enjoy his company. 

By the second week, it all becomes routine.  It’s simple, really.  You come into the home, check in with Soobin or Hyunjin, the other cute boy working at the front desk, and they always greet you with a smile.  You use placing your snack in the break room fridge as an excuse to see Yeonjun, who always sends you a flirtatious wink in greeting.

Then you settle into your office, interviewing and transcribing for a few hours until your brain is melted.  After that you retrace your steps to gather your belongings and leave the nursing home.  It’s a pretty simple routine...until it’s not.

It’s the Thursday of the 5th week when Yeonjun comes barging into your office. You had been cramped in the small room all afternoon, and it was nearing 6pm. You weren’t anywhere near done with your work, but Yeonjun didn’t seem to care. 

“Get your jacket,” the boy commands after his surprising entrance. “We’re going out.”

You can’t help but chuckle at the boy’s words, leaving him with a confused frown. 

“There’s no way. I’m not even close to being done. So I have to stay here and work. Just go out by yourself.”

Yeonjun’s frown deepens, and you admit that it makes him look adorable. He stands before you with unstyled hair and a frown, clad in those mint green scrubs all of the volunteers have to wear. You internally smile at the fact that his name tag is upside down. 

“You’ve been in here for over five hours. You deserve a break. We’re taking one now. Come on.”

Yeonjun’s stare is demanding, but with the subtle frown on his face, he seems to be pleading more than anything. After a few seconds of staring at the boy, you sigh, rolling your eyes. 

“Fine. But only for a half hour. Then I have to get back to work.”

Yeonjun beams brightly at you, and you wonder how you’ve gotten to the point where Yeonjun smiles at you more than he smirks. You shrug off the thought and grab your jacket, following Yeonjun out. 

The two of you opt for a quick stop at the local coffee shop rather than a full meal, knowing that what you need is just a pick me up. You settle into a booth towards the back of the cafe, seeming more interested in your drink than the boy in front of you. 

Yeonjun chuckles when he notices the way you are downing your drink, taking a slow sip from his own. “You must have really needed that.”

When you look up, you notice how Yeonjun’s nose is scrunched up in amusement. He looks different like this, cuter, and you wonder what about the nursing home brings out such a cute side of him. 

“Yeah, this research is kind of killing me,” you reply. “I don’t know how you did it.”

Yeonjun’s smile transitions to something softer. “I really loved it, so it never seemed like a big deal. I would rather be bombarded with patient interviews than have only a little bit of paperwork. Being face to face is so much more rewarding.”

You find yourself nodding in agreement, taking yet another sip of your drink. Although you had spoken to Yeonjun quite a bit since you’ve started your research project, you’ve never seen him so open. He’s normally all teasing quips and playful jabs and flirtatious compliments, but all of that seems to fall away as he looks at you with sincere eyes. 

“What made you even want to work in the nursing home to begin with? Don’t most developmental bio majors work in embryology? Why didn’t you work at a fertility clinic or something?”

At this, Yeonjun’s smile falls. He looks down at his drink, stirring it softly as a way to fidget. He can’t seem to meet your eyes, even when he begins speaking. 

“My grandmother was actually a resident at the home, like 3 or 4 years ago. She had really bad Alzheimer’s disease, and couldn’t live on her own, so I started visiting her when she was sick there.

“After she passed, I guess I couldn’t really stop myself from visiting over and over again, even though I knew she wouldn’t be there. So when one of my advisors told me a research position was open there last year, I jumped on it.”

You place your hand on top of his and give it a gentle squeeze. “I’m really sorry to hear that.”

Yeonjun nods sadly, finally looking up to meet your eyes. “It’s okay now. Volunteering at the home is something I really enjoy, so something good came out of it all.”

After a second or two, Yeonjun flips his hand over, interlocking his fingers with yours. You instantly flush, even though you try not to show how flustered the action makes you. 

“Thanks for asking, honestly.” Yeonjun starts softly. “No one has really ever questioned it, so it feels nice to be able to talk about it.”

You nod, letting out a shaky breath when the boy squeezes your hand. He doesn’t let it go after, letting it rest softly in his. You realize that he’s giving you the chance to pull away, but something in the pit of your stomach tells you not to. 

The two of you end up spending the rest of your break chatting idly, fingers intertwined on top of the table. 

.        .       .

No matter how much you get used to seeing Yeonjun in the nursing home, seeing him on campus always throws you for a loop. Even now, as you stand in the obnoxious crowd of the frat party your friends have dragged you to, you’re surprised to see the familiar head of perfectly styled hair. 

He’s standing by the staircase, nodding his head softly to the beat of whatever EDM song is blasting through the house.  His demeanor is the exact opposite from when he’s at the nursing home.  Instead of being soft and open, he’s closed and rigid, seemingly predatory as he scans the crowd.  You suspect it’s for his next hookup, and green briefly flashes behind your eyes.

He meets your eyes from across the room, sending a wink your way. You just roll your eyes, excusing yourself from your group of friends before walking over to him. Yeonjun looks surprised as you approach, taking a long sip of whatever concoction is housed in his red solo cup.  He leans against the adjacent wall before greeting you with a smirk. 

“This is the last place I ever thought I would see you, sweetheart.”  His eyes glitter with delight.

You roll your eyes, sipping on the seltzer in your cup. “I could say the same thing to you. Aren’t you, like, too cool to be here or something?”

This makes Yeonjun laugh, his prominent cheekbones protruding as he smiles genuinely. “Of course I’m too cool. But I just decided to grace all of these poor souls on campus with my presence.”

You hum in amusement as Yeonjun takes a step further into your space. He glances down into your cup, raising an eyebrow at its contents. 

“Vodka soda?” He questions. 

You shake your head no. 

“Gin and sprite?”

You shake your head once again. 

“Tequila seltzer?”

His incessant guesses have you laughing, but you finally take pity on him. “It’s just seltzer, Yeonjun. I’m not drinking.”

Yeonjun scoffs, leaning further into your space as you two lean against the adjacent wall. “What’s the point of coming to a party just to be sober? Actually, never mind, I would assume nothing less from you, sweetheart.”

“Hey,” your jaw drops in mock offense. “Someone once reminded me that it’s a little inappropriate to be assuming anything when you don’t know someone.”

“I think I know you well enough.”

You cock an eyebrow challengingly. “Prove it.”

The smirk takes hold on Yeonjun’s face. He tilts his head slightly, making it easier to make eye contact. You’re struck by the intensity of his gaze, even in the fairly dim lighting of the party. He crowds further into your space, forcing you back onto the wall just a little bit. You’re ashamed at the way it ignites a flame in the pit of your stomach. 

“Would it be inappropriate to assume that you want me just as bad as I want you?”

The question takes you by surprise, but the fire in your stomach only grows. If it weren’t for the intensity of his stare you would think he was joking, but something in his eyes tells you he’s dead serious. 

“What makes you say that?” You don’t know where the sudden confidence comes from, but you take pride in your ability to flirt back. 

Yeonjun chuckles. “Don’t think I forgot how you were looking at me in the library all those weeks ago. You were practically begging me to fuck you with your eyes. And honestly,” he shrugs. “I would have. I still would.”

You swallow thickly, brain momentarily short circuiting at the boy’s words. He still has yet to break eye contact, seemingly searching you for any sign to back off. Obviously, he doesn’t find one. 

“Then what are you waiting for?”

Yeonjun’s smirk grows, dripping with a sense of pride and satisfaction. He’s quick to take you by the hand, leading you up the stairs to wherever the two of you were bound to spend the rest of your night. You mentally apologize to your freshman year self for breaking your promise to keep your distance from Yeonjun.  But really, you aren’t all that sorry.

.          .          .

You feel dirty. 

No matter how much concealer you use to hide it, it makes you feel extremely dirty to come to work with hickies. It makes you feel even dirtier that the one who gave you said hickies volunteers there. 

However, what makes you feel the dirtiest is the fact that when Yeonjun comes into your office and locks the door, you take the bait. You only have a 20 minute break in between your interviews, and you spend it fucking Choi Yeonjun...again.

No matter how dirty you feel, though, you can’t help but feel an underlying sense of giddiness. Being with Yeonjun just ignites something within you that has you thrumming with happiness for the rest of the day (not that you would ever tell him that).

The two of you had decided at the party that there was nothing wrong with a little fun as long as it was left at just having fun. And with that, the two of you just arose. 

You don’t know where quickies in your office fall on the spectrum of “just having fun,” but you go with the flow anyways. 

Yeonjun chuckles as he watches you slide your discarded panties up your legs, pulling down your pencil skirt as you fumble with the buttons on your blouse. He looks no better, the drawstrings on his scrubs untied, a blooming hickey forming underneath his collarbone. You both are a mess, and you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

You’re straightening up your hair when Yeonjun moves to leave. He approaches the door slowly, seemingly wanting to draw out the moment between you two. Eventually he exits the office with a sleazy wink. 

“See you around, sweetheart.”

And with that, he disappears. When the door clicks shut behind him, you swear to yourself that it won’t happen again. 

Naturally, it does.  Time and time again, you find yourself with Choi Yeonjun embedded in you, and you can’t say you regret it.

Your connectedness bleeds into your work, as you often find yourself thinking of the boy during your interviews. The two of you share secret glances whenever you cross paths, accompanied by the occasional rendezvous in your office. 

It bleeds into campus life, too. You find yourself leaving every party with Yeonjun’s arm wrapped around your waist, him whispering dirty promises in your ear as he leads you out. 

Every single time you encounter Yeonjun it always leads to the same two things, sex and unfinished work. 

He takes pride in it, too. Yeonjun loves the way he has you dropping everything for him the minute he says the right things. He loves how you always greet him with a sweet smile, one that’s dripping with sugar in a way that’s only meant to conceal something. He loves the way you moan for him, say his name, tell him that you’re close. Yeonjun loves. 

He loves.

On month two of you two “having fun,” Yeonjun decides he’s had enough of loving. He’s loved before, sure, but this, this is love. And if he knew anything, he knew that “having fun” and love could not coexist. 

He lets his eyes roam your naked figure as you lay sleeping in his dorm bed, the two of you squeezing onto it late last night and haven’t moved since. He wonders when sharing a bed became enveloped in “having fun” and he assumes it was around the same time when loving you was. 

This is not the Yeonjun he knew himself to be. This is not the Yeonjun that tore through the boys and girls of campus just to chase a meaningless orgasm. This isn’t the Yeonjun who got cute boys to tutor him by pretending not to understand physics. This new Yeonjun feels.  He feels for you, and he hates himself for it. 

Yeonjun can’t stop himself from smiling as you slowly start to blink awake. On instinct, his hand comes to your hair, stroking softly to further coax you into wakefulness. When you make sleepy eye contact with him, you smile softly. Yeonjun’s heart clenches. 

“What are you staring at, creep?” You mumble into the shared pillow. 

Yeonjun chuckles softly. “Just a loser.”

“That wasn’t what you were saying last night.”

And Yeonjun blushes. The Yeonjun that he knew himself to be never blushed. He was always the one making others blush. He used to make you blush. He wonders when the tables turned. 

After waking up fully, you’re quick to leave the bed, searching the small dorm room for your clothes.  You get dressed without batting an eye, straightening out your appearance as much as possible.  Yeonjun just watches from his bed as you go through the motions, taking in the sight of you.  

When all your stuff is gathered and you’ve deemed yourself appropriate, you head to the door.  Yeonjun wills himself to say something, anything.  But his voice is caught in his throat, and it’s not until you’re halfway out the door does he find his words.

“See you tomorrow.” Stay, please.

You just smile over your shoulder.  “Bye, Yeonjun.”  Ask me to stay.

You’ve made peace with the walk of shame since you find yourself doing it so often.  But there is always something that nags in the pit of your stomach as you walk down the corridors of the dorm.  You wonder if people can look at you and know, know that you’re just another one of Yeonjun’s conquests.

Somewhere along the line, you convince yourself that it’s fine if that’s what they think, because that’s what you are.  Choi Yeonjun doesn’t do feelings, not for you, at least.  He just takes and takes until he’s satisfied.  There will come a day where he’s satisfied, and you two will return to being nothing but coworkers.

You wonder if Yeonjun has taken anyone else recently.  You’re sure that he must have, but you can’t help but hope that he hasn’t.  You hope that you’re the only one, that you’ve been the only one, but that hope is futile.  You know that.  So why does it hurt so bad?

As you exit the dorm, the cold air of early December whipping past your face, you realize that you’ve been taken.  Choi Yeonjun took you, every piece of you, and you wonder why you let him.

You wish that you stuck to your freshman promise of keeping your distance.  But distance only makes the heart grow fonder.

Part Two

#choi yeonjun #choi yeonjun imagines #txt #txt imagines #tomorrow x together imagines #tomorrow x together #choi soobin #choi soobin imagines #escritos

[kittae]

Bottoms Up

Pairing: Kim Taehyung x reader

Side characters: Min Yoongi, Jey

Summary: A drabble series where Taehyung is a successful artistic erotica actor but has to expand his areas of expertise in the rapidly evolving world of adult film. Lost and inexperienced in everything that doesn’t involve classy settings, flattering lighting and romantic scripts, he basically has to start from scratch to make it in the online porn community. As a highly demanded A-lister in that community, you take him under your wings (or better yet, between your legs).

Genre: Smut, fluff, a bit of comedy here and there. Maybe some angst, who knows.

words: 1368

Disclaimer: Slight alcohol intoxication, dialogue-heavy, foul language, both of them had too much to drink and are being annoying lmao

« previous — next »

“I trusted you! You’ve betrayed my trust!” Taehyung wails, dramatically flinging himself against the wall of Yoongi’s living room.

“Stop acting, you’re going to drain yourself.” Yoongi murmurs as he pours himself another drink. “Besides, why are you being like this in the first place? The shoot went better than expected, you should be celebrating with me instead of fake crying.”

“I’m not fake crying.”

“Yes, you are and you know what else you are?” Yoongi takes a sip of his whiskey, “Killing my buzz.”

Taehyung merely pouts, knowing his crocodile tears aren’t going to coax sympathy out of the slightly tipsy older man. “You should’ve discussed this with me in advance.”

“You know, I totally would’ve if you hadn’t been such a stubborn baby about the whole ordeal from the beginning. I could barely get you to agree to the shoot, heavens know how you would have reacted if I told you about the seminars.”

“You know what?” Taehyung scoffs, heated, “I’m sorry if I inconvenienced you by showing my true feelings towards your off-putting suggestions.”

Yoongi snorts, rolling his eyes and taking a rather large gulp from his glass.

“But I am who I am and I thought you supported me! You’re making plans behind my back instead.” Taehyung presses on, crossing his arms in displeasure. He didn’t come here with the intention of making a fuss considering everything went shockingly well today, yet he needs to make sure that Yoongi knows how he feels about the secretive way he handled things.

“If I don’t make plans behind your back sometimes, we’re not gonna get anywhere,” Yoongi calmly explains, gesturing with the crystal glass in his hand, “You only got to expand your boundaries today because I arranged it like that and that’s what being partners is all about.”

“No,” Taehyung slowly counters, “Being partners is about trust and honesty, which is the opposite of what you did today.”

“Noooo, I really don’t feel like arguing right now,” Yoongi groans as he slouches further into his padded couch, “Can’t we just hold hands and call it a day?”

Taehyung squeezes his eyes to slits, “Don’t try to bribe me into forgiving you, hyung.”

“Why not? You do it all the time.” The manager grumbles, reaching for the bottle to prevent his glass from getting empty.

After fiddling with the buttons of his silk, albeit questionably patterned shirt, Taehyung sighs and collects himself. He then goes over to Yoongi’s liquor cabinet to fetch a glass identical to that of his manager.

“What are you doing?” Yoongi asks, an amused look on his face.

Tae shrugs as he flops down next to his friend and plucks the bottle right out of his hand. “Getting a drink.”

“You hate alcohol.”

“Correct,” Taehyung responds matter-of-factly, “I just like the aesthetic of swirling scotch around in a crystal glass while I ponder over what you could do to get my trust back.”

Yoongi scoffs. “How about not kicking you out of my apartment? Sounds good?” He raises his brows, briefly letting the amber liquor tickle his tongue, savoring the slight burn when it hits his throat. “You’re here more than at your own place. You’re lucky I’m not charging you for rent and unwanted sleepovers.”

“You wouldn’t dare!” Taehyung gasps.

“You are the only one allowed in my apartment and even you will lose your apartment privileges if you won’t quit it.” Yoongi warns seriously. “And those include storm cuddles and hurricane hangouts.”

Taehyung look absolutely horrified and gulps hard before taking a big swig of the whiskey in pure misery. Needless to say he instantly regrets it, the liquid too sharp and the vile taste of alcohol burning through his throat. He coughs dramatically as if he’d just drank poison, with Yoongi already on his way to the kitchen to get him a diet coke to wash it down –although not without an eyeroll or two.

“I swear you’re worse than a baby sometimes.” He sighs as he opens the can for his teary-eyed younger friend who reaches for the soda as if it’s his only lifeline. “Bet seeing you like this would burst more than a few bubbles of the women who love your films.”

Taehyung says nothing, too busy chugging the coke ad fundum. Only when any trace of the whiskey taste is gone, can he relax. And he does, with a big, content smile on his face.

“Love you, hyung. You know that, right?” He coos, nestling his head on the older man’s shoulder, who responds with a barely suppressed sound of disgust.

“Fuck’s sake Taehyung, did you get drunk from that one sip already?” Yoongi frets, exasperated.

“Sometimes... people w-won’t never adjust to changes.” Tae offers a vague explanation, followed by a hiccup as he makes himself cozy against his manager’s side to take a nap.

Yoongi gives up, sighing, simply patting the younger’s head and accepting his punishment. “Alright buddy.”

“–and then he just flipped a switch or something! Woah, you should’ve seen it, it was really incredible.” You conclude before you wash down the spicy food with some more beer.

“Yeah, it must’ve been...Seeing how it’s the only thing you could talk about for the past hour,” Jey chuckles, reaching for another snack. The dining tent is crowded this evening, lots of noise and ruckus of other drunk customers filling your ears while you talk.

“Ah, sorry… Do I talk about it too much?” You grimace.

“Nah, you’re fine,” she waves away your concern with a laugh, “It sounds like it was a whole experience. I’ve never seen him like that either so it is kind of fascinating to me to hear this.”

You gasp, snapping your fingers when you recall something. “Right! You once told me you sometimes work for him!”

She frowns. “Told you twice… Actually, Yoongi called me today asking for my help but I was booked.”

“Is he usually shy like that? When you fluff him? No, wait, not shy– Uh, you know, super careful?”

Jey full out laughs at your rambling now, “Honestly, I’ve never seen you so invested in one of your projects before.”

You pout at that, “Don’t call him that.”

“Oh my god, ___, are you in love with him or something? You’re creeping me out.” She pulls a face before cupping your hot cheeks with her palms. “Oh, nevermind. You’re just super drunk.”

Shrugging, you shake off her hands like a child, only to replace them with your own when you rest your chin in them, elbows on the wonky, iron table as you lean over to her, smiling wide. “I still haven’t seen his dick,” You whisper-shout and Jey snorts at your drunken obliviousness. “Tell me about it.”

“Alright, sweetie, you’re making it weird,” she flicks your forehead and you whine, “It wouldn’t be very professional of me if I told you, hmm? Besides, didn’t you binge his films last week? I think you have a good enough idea of what his dick looks like.”

“But I’m so frustrated!” Your whining gets louder and more heated as you put up your index finger and practically shove it in Jey’s face, “I just wanted to feel it once, Jey. Just once.”

“Time for some water I think,” Jey raises her eyebrows and calls the owner of the tent for a bottle, “I don’t get what you’re getting worked up about. He’s going to be taking your classes, right? You’ll have plenty of chances to suck his dick later so stop crying about it, jeez.”

You clap your hands and giggle, the alcohol really starting to get in your head, “That’s true! I can still suck his dick then!”

“Shhh!” A hand instantly comes to cover your mouth before you can say more. “You don’t have to shout! What’s wrong with you?!”

“Mmmight be getting a little bit tipsy,” you helpfully suggest as if she hasn’t been trying to sober you up since you started talking about Taehyung’s dick.

“No shit, really? After only six beers?” She jeers sarcastically while forcing the bottle of water against your lips, sighing in relief when you allow it and start swallowing. “Let’s get you home, messy girl.”

Heliotrope masterlist

#bts smut #bts scenarios #taehyung smut #bts fanfiction #bts #kim taehyung #kim taehyung fanfic #taehyung scenarios #v smut #bts v #taehyung fic #taehyung fanfic #bts fanfic

[dictionarywrites]

mmm i’m not gonna be doing anything with this

egh, frostiron, man. i just never feel like it really WORKS. 

the point of this one was meant to be frostiron with dashingcollector as a sidepiece but like, i’m alreayd super done with it, so have 2k of a beginning that i’m not gonna do anything more with, ‘cause i’m just gonna delete the doc lol

it’s a shame to have wasted 2k worth of effort on it but like ! ah well. not everything works out. 

i might lift some dialogue from this to reuse - i’m really pleased with the loki & tan dynamic and i might reuse that knife moment in the Wedding Collection, but... egh. this just doesn’t work with tony in it, so i might come back to it and pick it apart for scraps. 

Once upon a time, Tony Stark was the heir to Stark Industries – a huge, sprawling company that supplied a lot of high-end electronics across the Earth, and then to the surrounding solar system, and a little bit farther. High-end electronics, of course, included weapons: weapons used on Earth, and then… And then weapons used in other places. In Star Trek, in The Original Series, war had always seemed like such a last resort. Earth government never seems to see it that way.

Once upon a time, all that happened – that was a long time ago.

Reaching forward, Tony shifts his hand over the control panel, letting his fingers drag through the holographic display it projects, his light sensor gloves telling the ship exactly where he wants it to go. It’s only a little cruiser, a three-man rig that runs with just one, and the saleable model has basic amenities – a two-bunk cabin, a one-bunk cabin, a kitchen/living room, and a whole lot of storage space. Of course, Tony’s tricked his out a little, but it’s still snug.

He likes snug, these days. Can’t stand spaces that are too open.

Not after—

“We are approaching Knowhere, sir,” JARVIS says, and Tony relaxes slightly, leaning back into his seat and setting his hands on his knees. The ship continues to take her established route forward, gliding with ease on the course he’s plotted and avoiding all the little chips of asteroid and space rock.

Knowhere sprawls before him, the sick sprawl of old flesh and exposed bone: the head of some long-dead Celestial, mined at every angle by scientific groups of all kinds. It’s gross, in all honesty – it’s damn gross.

Tony doesn’t need the money that comes with what he does. He doesn’t need to be a travelling engineer, do the big-ticket jobs from one space station to the next one, flying in, doing the big repair or co-ordinating the big project nobody else has the expertise to do, and flying off again. In all honesty, Tony has enough credits saved – he could buy himself a little planet or a modest space station, and he could be a homebody, work on his own projects…

But he needs the distraction, and he likes to travel. Like this, he has the best of both worlds: he works on his own projects on the long-haul through space, and he works on big repair jobs or rehauls when he arrives at his destinations.

“Docking at Port 432,” JARVIS says, and Tony nods, stepping up and out of the flight deck. He pulls on a dress shirt over his oil-stained vest, buttoning it up to the ARC reactor that glows under his sternum, and he changes his battered jeans for a pair of black slacks. A suit jacket is a little much, and he’d rather be able to let his iron suit bloom out from his wrists at the first opportunity – it’s best not to try that with a loose jacket, else… Well, suffice it to say, the last time was a little bit messy. As he puts on his shoes, JARVIS says, “Are you sure about this engagement, sir?

“Nah,” Tony says, pulling on his sunglasses. “I’m not sure at all.” JARVIS lets out a low huff of sound, and Tony smiles slightly as he hears the docking procedure finish, the airflow clicking into ignition between Tony’s ship and the station. Moving swiftly out of the airlock, he allows the ship to lock behind him, and an attendant dressed in yellow and decked out with cybernetic enhancements meets him in the corridor.

“Good morning,” the attendant says, pinning up their brightly blue hair. “Name?”

“Tony Stark, he/him,” Tony says, and he draws a chip from his pocket, holding it on his palm and letting the attendant scan it. “Here to meet the Collector.” The attendant’s polite expression stiffens, and their expression becomes pinched and tight, their eyes distant.

“Yes, sir,” the attendant says crisply, and they deliver instructions without the slightest bit of small talk amidst the clean words, and Tony’s lip twitches in amusement as he steps into the lift that leads up toward the Collector’s Museum.

Taneleer Tivan is known throughout the galaxy as a renowned curator, carefully working upon his collection and expanding it as best he can. He’s a dangerous man – this, Tony knows. His facility houses living “specimens” as well as the average collector’s fucking trading cards, and it revolts Tony, disgusts him, but… There are other people, here on Knowhere. People who get hurt, if the life support goes down. And Tony knows that a lot of the specimens sell themselves to Tivan, that they give themselves over to being in a cage in a facility for the rest of their lives – does that make it better? That should make it better.

Sighing, Tony moves down the corridor, hearing the quiet clank of his boots on the metal grating. He moves in parallel to the great marketplace, which always stinks to high Hell of ammonia (he’d come here a few times, as a kid, with Dad…), and he moves quickly down a gangplank and in toward the Museum.

No ammonia here, but the scents are strong, and they’re different every time.

This time?

Place smells like ice.

Tony stops in the doorway, inhaling and taking it in, taking in that scent that smells of nothing, but is still so distinctive, cold… Standing at a metal desk, there is a human in a black tunic embroidered with silver accents that much the piercings through the shell of his ear and the side of his nose, and he is carefully shaving away layers of ice from an artefact with a tool that Tony can’t quite see. His black hair, which is glossy and long, is tied up in a loose bun, a shining silver hairpin keeping it away from the nape of his neck, and he wears a pair of black-rimmed glasses.

“You guys haven’t got contacts out this way, huh?” The man looks up, looking Tony up and down, and he frowns slightly. He has very thin lips, Tony thinks – they’re thin and pink, and pretty. His eyes are a bright blue, mirroring the ice he works on, and he watches Tony for a long few moments before he answers.

“You assume much,” he says darkly, and his voice is low and resonant, ringing in the air and surprisingly deep, coming from such a pretty face. “Anthony Stark, I take it?”

“Tony,” he corrects.

The attendant taps a button on the edge of his table, and Tony leans forward to catch a glimpse of the face in the display. It isn’t, as he had expected, the face of Taneleer Tivan, but another human-looking face, this one blond and with a golden moustache over his lip, his skin a rosy colour.

“Please advise the Collector that Anthony Stark has arrived,” the attendant says mildly. There’s an underlying sternness to his tone, as if he expects the other man not to obey – and it seems like he’s right to expect that.

“So formal,” Fandral chides, and the display looks directly at Tony, his pretty face shifting as he grins. “And with such a handsome man, Loki. You know not what you do to yourself.”

“I have no especial care for handsome men,” Loki says, his voice very snide indeed.

“How I have learned that bitter knowledge!” Fandral says, clutching at his heart, and Tony laughs as Loki’s thin lips twist into a scowl.

“The Collector, Fandral, now.” Fandral chuckles, but he gives a salute with a green-gloved hand, and the hologram goes dim. Loki holds up one bare hand, gesturing with two fingers for Tony to move closer, and Tony does, slowly walking into the room and slowly sliding to take the stool that Loki gestures to. It’s weird, to see a guy working on an artefact like this with his bare hands. Loki’s hands are ivory-white and marked with pink scars: a chunk of flesh is missing from the heel of his right hand, an unnatural dip showing between the meat of his palm and his wrist, and as well as the little cuts and drags and callouses, he can see a savage bite mark dragged over the fabric of his left hand. They don’t look soft, either, those hands: they look hard.

Tony’s mouth is a little bit dry as he watches them work, watches Loki drag his palm slowly over the ice and shave away another layer, allowing fragments of ice dust to fill the air in sudden clouds.

“What, uh, what instrument you using for that? Ice-cutter in the palm?”

“You are here to speak to the Collector,” Loki says primly. “Not to me.”

“What, I can’t speak with the locals?”

“I am not local.”

“No, you’re a little too pretty for that.” The compliment garners no response at all, not even a neatly raised eyebrow or a sardonic stare. It passes through the air between them, and Loki acts as if he hasn’t even heard it. “You, uh, you heard of me? Tony Stark.”

“Yes, of course,” Loki says. “You are the Collector’s 0800 appointment.” Tony frowns, leaning back slightly, but Loki’s thin lips twitch at their edges slightly, betraying the barest hint of a smile.

“Oh,” Tony says, sarcastically. “You’re a joker, I get it, real funny.”

“I have heard of you,” Loki allows, and a few layers of the ice come away at once, coming away from the left hand side and bearing the dark brown wood of whatever is frozen inside. Loki frowns, picking it up by the base and peering at it, and then he delicately shakes his head, a tiny shift of his head. “You hail from Midgard, do you not? You recently parcelled apart Stark Industries, your father’s company?”

“Midgard?” Tony repeats. “I’m from Earth.” Loki glances at him, and then he blinks.

“Oh, no… Midgard is what we once called your planet, upon the world upon which I grew up. Asgard.”

“Oh,” Tony says, his voice very quiet. Asgard is… old news. It was about thirty years ago, now, that the whole world was smashed to kingdom-come – they called it the Ragnarök, the Twilight of the Gods, and the whole disc (because it wasn’t really a planet) just… Collapsed. Hundreds of thousands of people died: Tony remembers being just a kid, and hearing it blow up all the subspace frequencies, seeing Æsir and Vanir crying in the streets of New York, back on Earth. “I didn’t realise you called us that.”

“The old ways,” Loki says distractedly, still peering at the wood. “Such as they were.” He returns, then, to his work, shaving away parts of the ice.

“It wasn’t so recent,” Tony says. “It was like, three years ago. That I did that.”

“Very recent,” Loki replies. “You Midgardians… Terrans, is it? Time passes so quickly for you. Three years is the blink of an eye, child.”

“And how old are you, huh? Three thousand?” It’s a joke, but Loki shows no sign of humour, and instead he keeps Tony’s gaze, his eyes widening by a fraction, his lips quirking into a tiny smile.

“Closer to five,” Loki says. “You see not the signs of middle age about me, the scant silver in my air, the wrinkles at my eyes?”

“Um,” Tony says, staring at Loki’s hair with an analytical eye and seeing no trace of grey. “No?” Loki laughs, and the sound rings like a distant bell. He’s pretty when he laughs: Tony notes the fact with a little bit of guilt. It’s been a long time.

“Your guess was correct the first time. I draw close to three-thousand and a score.” Tony shivers, feeling the immensity of that, of three thousand years. God. That’s— That’s freaky. That’s damn weird.

“And a score, huh?” Tony repeats, a little airily. He can’t quite keep the mockery out of his tone, and it makes Loki pause for a moment, glancing at him with slight surprise—

“Mr Stark,” says a voice from across the room, and Tony glances to the guy that enters. He wears a tunic like Loki’s, form-fitting and showing off the build of his chest under the silken fabric. Instead of black, he wears green, and the thread and the accents are a shining gold instead, matching the colour of his hair. He has a charming smile on his face, his blue eyes glittering with delicate amusement, and he moves like a dancer, all but skipping across the floor. “If I might present to you, sir, Taneleer Tivan: the Collector.”

He steps gracefully aside, and Tony looks at Tivan for the first time in— God. Thirty years at least. Tony’s no longer the little boy standing awkwardly at his father’s side, more distant that he’d like to be, unsure where to put his hands or where to stand. Tivan had looked down at him, imperiously looking down at Tony from the length of his nose, and Tony had been hyperaware of how dark the stripe on his chin was in comparison to his skin, how soft his hair had looked. Tivan had seemed like a creature of hyperbolic proportions: the black too black, the white too white, the eyes too deep, the nose too strong…

But he’d seemed tall, once upon a time. Ridiculously tall.

They’re the same height now, six foot two, an it feels strange to meet eyes with him, to look him in the face.

“Mr Stark,” Tivan says delicately, and he beams, showing white teeth and letting Tony shake his hand. They’re a little cold, Tivan’s hands, and Tony shakes the hand he’s offered firmly, watching as Fandral moves to stand behind Loki and speak quietly to him.

“You want me to detail your life support systems, right?”

“That is correct,” Tivan says, giving a small inclination of his head. There is a secretive smile on his face as he continues, and he glances over Tony’s shoulder before he does: “It will take some time, to perform all the… repairs on your own, even with the assistance of your drones, but I would rather… have somebody that I can… trust.” Something flies through the air, whistling past Tony’s ear, and he flinches: Tivan catches it out of the air before it can drive itself into his head, and he looks at it impassively. He doesn’t flinch. It’s a short blade, a throwing knife made of some kind of titanium alloy, and Tony moves to stare at Fandral and Loki. Fandral’s eyes are wide, and he is glancing between Loki and Tivan both, but Loki is scowling, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. “And, ha. And also, of course… Somebody I cannot afford to… miss. Here in the museum.”

He tosses the knife back, and Loki immediately hides it somewhere in his tunic, but where, Tony couldn’t hope to guess. As soon as he has the blade back, he turns back to his work, continuing to shave the ice away from the wooden thing in his hands. His tight shoulders relax, and Tony doesn’t think he imagines the slight quirk of a smile on his face.

“Uh,” Tony says. “What the Hell was that?”

“Loki… sees slights where there are none to be seen,” Tivan says slowly, not without some amusement, “Please, Mr Stark. Come… with me.” Tony follows Tivan down a walkway and then up the stairs, moving into a clinical room not unlike a doctor’s office. Insects in glass cases line the upper parts of the walls, neatly sectioned out, and there is a mix of curation equipment and computer hard drives, and Tivan gestures neatly to a chair before his metal desk. Tony sits down, leaning back into it, but Tivan remains standing, leaning back against one of the counters at the wall.

“Who are they? Loki and Fandral? What kinda names are they?”

“They are Asgardian,” Tivan says, shrugging his shoulders. “They are… Hm. Hard workers. Well. Loki is.”

“Why keep the other one then?” Tony asks, and Tivan laughs, the sound resonant and rumbling.

“They come as a pair,” he says simply, shrugging his shoulders. “But you are not here to ask… about my hiring practices. No? You are here… to work.”

“Last time I was here, Collector, I was with my dad, and we owned the biggest tech company in the sector. Now, I’m a two-bit engineer rocking around the universe in a souped-up motor car, and you don’t want to ask why that is?”

“I know why that is,” Tivan says immediately. Tony sees the understanding in his eyes, sees the comprehension: he knows exactly what happened back on Earth, back in that solar system. He keeps on top of the news, as much as he pretends to be isolated. “Family tragedies… So hard, I am sure. They do not affect me, or my museum, or my planet.” He says it uncaringly, without even the remotest piece of sympathy.

Tony feels relief.

“Okay, Collector,” he says, clapping his hands together. “Tell me what you need doing.” Tivan smiles, and Tony wonders, not for the first time, exactly how old he is. Thirty years and he hasn’t changed a bit, has stayed exactly the same even as Tony’s become a teenager and a young adult and now a middle-aged engineer, and Tivan…

It’s not a good thing to think about. It’s scary, creepy.

He doesn’t want to think about it.

He decides not to.

Ϟ ❄ ϟ ❄ ϟ ❄ ϟ ❄ ϟ ❄ Ϟ

It’s on the sixth day of working on Knowhere that Tony sees Loki again. Loki is in the marketplace, sitting alone at a Jostori restaurant and eating with one hand, his right hand clasping a book. Tony always thought books would be rare, once he left planet Earth behind him, but they’re not – most space stations and planets have tons of them, and it’s only meeting people on small ships with limited space that you only see e-readers or electronic publications.

“You, uh, you eat Jostori food, huh?” Tony asks. He leans on the half-wall that closes the outside of the tables the restaurant has outside, and Loki glances up from his book, apparently surprised at being addressed. He looks Tony up and down, taking in the overalls he’s wearing, the streak of system coolant he can’t quite get out of his hair, and won’t be able to get out of his hair until he can get into the sonic shower on his ship. The job is big – damn big. Tivan had been right about that. It’s gonna take Tony maybe two years planet-side to revamp the whole system, and he and Tivan had worked out a system of order. He hadn’t been clear on why exactly Tivan wanted his entire life support system rewired and detailed, but… He’d given Tony a folder of potential pests he could expect to find, and at least six of them had been the size of dogs, so maybe that’s why. “That stuff,” Tony says. “It’s pretty, like, acidic, right? That stuff would kill a human.”

“It isn’t difficult to kill a human,” Loki replies smoothly, but he leans back in his seat, setting the book down, and he meets Tony’s eyes. Everything about his body language is open, relaxed: even his thighs are spread a little, and his left foot points in Tony’s direction. His lips quirk into the smallest smile, and Tony finds he likes the look of him, likes the way he looks with his tunic unbuttoned to the middle of his chest, bearing the silver vest he wears underneath. “You’re so… fragile.” Tony thinks of New York, thinks of the whole thing in flames, dashed to Hell with nearly everybody in the city dead, and all because of his company…

He swallows the thought, and does his best to put it behind him.

“Loki, right?”

“Loki,” he agrees, and when Tony puts out his hand to shake over the wall, Loki takes it. If he’d thought Tivan’s fingers were cold, they’re nothing compared to this guy: Loki’s hands are as cold as frozen marble, but his smile is— Well. Not soft, exactly. He looks like he’d eat Tony alive.

“I didn’t know Asgardians could eat acidic food either. That stuff’s like, what, a pH of three or four? That stuff’ll burn right through most people.”

“I’m not Æsir – Asgardian,” Loki says smoothly. “I hail from a planet named P’jar: the Asgardians and the people of Earth alike know it as Jötunheimr. My people have always eaten tough foods, fermented meats… Acid comes naturally to us.”

“So, if, uh, if I kissed you… What, you’d melt my tongue off?” Loki laughs, the sound full to the brim with dark amusement, and he sets his chin upon his hand, looking at Tony like Tony’s some fun new toy.

“I am a shapeshifter, Anthony,” Loki says softly. “There is no facet of my form that does not change, does not alter, with but a whim on my part.”

#as defined by dictionary #marvel #1 #fanfic #dictionary writes #tony stark #taneleer tivan #fandral #loki

[thedegenerateasexual]

the last of let’s talk about love under the cut, chapters 27-34 + the epilogue:

chapter 27:

v v short, just a visit to the therapist again where she tells him about coming out

chapter 28: 

alice went to her parents wioth the law school thing and told them she wanted to change majors and they...cut her off financially

that was not what i was expecting and not what she was expecting either god damn

she went to takumi’s to be sad and

“What about a weekend away? Forget about everything for a few days and relax. How do you feel about camping?”

“I feel like I’m not going to like it.” She rested her head on his shoulder.

He traced the bridge of her nose. “In a cabin, not a tent.”

“I feel like I might like it.”

lmao mood

“I’m not going to sleep with people to make them happy anymore. It’s kind of my thing, but I don’t want it to be.”

“Wait, he asked to have sex with you?”

“No, but if things went well, he would have. Eventually.”

“He might not,” he said. “You don’t really know what someone will say until you tell them.”

That … was not what she expected him to say. Her admission should have gotten her a solemn nod, meaningful condolences, and a promise that she’d find someone someday.

Did he really care that she was self-rejecting? Or …

Or …

Or …

OR!!!! i’m dying

“It seems easier to just not date,” she began, watching for any change in his demeanor. “Sex is too much a part of everything, and I don’t think it’s reasonable to tell my partner I don’t ever want to sleep with them and expect them to stick around. I’m not saying they wouldn’t agree. I personally am not okay with asking. And I’m not saying I wouldn’t want to try again someday, but I don’t want them to have the expectation that I will. It has to be my choice and a lot of people don’t respect that.”

She stared at his profile so hard she thought her eyes would cross. She prayed he would say the Perfect Thing.

please i’m losing it

He said nothing. Alice waited and waited, watched the way his fingers gripped the steering wheel, the way his thumb tapped to the soft music. He looked in the rearview mirror at the sleeping twins in their car seats, out his side mirrors when he changed lanes, but never at her. Not even a glance.

Maybe she shouldn’t have told him that.

She always told him everything, but she should not have told him that.

Not yet.

NOOOO what that’s the end of the chapter???

i guess in all fairness he can’t say “i’ll date you and we can never ever have sex if you want and i’ll always be OK with that” in like full honesty without, you know, really thinking about what that would be like, and it’s not a good idea to promise something if you don’t know if you can make good on it, and sex is super important to some people (??? i know but it is) so

chapter 29:

all takmui/alice hangouts at their camping cabin. alice decided to get drunk and He, A Gentleman, refused to also get drunk, just to make sure nothing untoward would happen. i lvoe him

chapter 30:

They stared at each other. Alice blinked first, but her eyes didn’t make it back to his. She focused on his smile, his lips, not wanting to kiss them; rather she wanted to touch them to see if they were as soft as they looked. The dangers of drunk-thinking could end in disaster. Her hand was halfway to his mouth when he asked, “Do you want to watch a movie?”

HE’S A GENTLEMAN i’m cryin

He gave her a funny look. “You like romance? In real life?”

“Of course I do. How do you not know this about me?”

Takumi laughed, turning away to look out the window for a moment. “I’m trying to figure something out and it’s not making sense to me.”

“Okay.” She willed herself not to be nervous.

“Before, you said ‘bisexual minus the sexual’ but didn’t add in a substitute. So if you don’t care about sex, what do you care about?”

“Ah,” she said, pleased by the question.

be still my beating heart i can’t believe he’s ASKING QUESTIONS where do people like this COME from

semi-related note i like that the book didn’t end with her coming out and them dating and it’s all rainbows, they still have a little poking to do, some understandings to come to, it’s Nice

“And for the record, I don’t believe in true love either, but I think it’s possible to feel like it could be real. That it’s possible to share something that feels that way with someone.”

The skeptical look on his face made her laugh without humor.

“And I think it’s possible to feel that way more than once. Sometimes even with more than one person at a time. Feelings are messy and confusing. It takes me a god-awful long time to sort through mine and I don’t always completely trust myself.”

i’m telling you dude. aces overthink shit. this is almost universally true i’m sure

about prom:

She didn’t know how to explain that, yes, her friends had been great, but going alone wasn’t in the plan. Every movie and show she had seen portrayed it as this big romantic event and she’d missed out on that because nobody asked her and she had been too afraid to ask anyone else. She wanted to wear her dress, get a corsage, and slow dance. It was stupid and archaic, but that didn’t stop her from wanting it like burning. If she thought about it too much, she could still feel that crushing hope that grew each day while she waited to be asked and that pervasive fear stopping her from asking anyone.

what a mood! i could type a thousand-word essay on my baggage re: school dances ALONE. at least alice got to GO to prom

OH my god alice is like still a lil tipsy and her brother called to yell at her about changing her major and he clocked that she was both drunk and hanging with “a grown-ass man” because “you have 2 friends and if you were with them you would have said their names and was immediately furious and demanded to speak to takumi

and alice, in a total power move, just HANDED HIM THE PHONE

“Yes—I’ll keep that in mind. Not that you could stop me if I wanted to, but I hear you.”

Her eyebrows slapped her hairline. She grabbed his hand, pulling it to her chest. “Wanted to what?”

Takumi squeezed her hand. Smiling, he looked at Alice and said to her brother, “No. You really couldn’t.” He hung up the phone. “That was fun.”

I BET I CAN GUESS WHAT THEY WERE TALKING ABOUT

listen. /I/ have a crush on takumi. he’s literally the perfect man

chapter 31:

FEENIE AND ALICE FINALLY MADE UP THANK FUCK

tbh feenie had some legit beef that is too long to copypasta - that alice was just using her for self defense - and admitted she had some bs going on too - it was a good make-up, actually. i’m so relieved

yk what’s cute?

“I really want us to grow old together, you know? Go through all the typical life stuff together even if that means we can only e-mail each other once a week because you moved to the middle of nowhere in Nebraska with your ten kids and I’m still in California because it’s amazing. Just like in that one movie—we’ll never lose touch with each other, ever. Is that weird?”

“No,” Feenie said. “It’s perfectly fucking normal.”

god bless

now that they’re back together feenie is ready to murder alice’s entire family for ditching her and helps her get a gameplan together about her future with no financial aid from her folks & god bless that too

chapter 32:

He watched the road.

She watched him.

God, did Alice want to kiss him. She had always liked kisses, small ones here and there. She wanted to kiss his cheeks and temples and the tip of his nose and his jaw and below his ear and every other place he would let her. She wanted to kiss him like he was the darkest night sky and her lips had the power to make stars.

AWWW she does like kissing well more power 2 u honey kissing is disgusting but live ur best life

omg it’s CONFESSION TIME

“So now would be a good time to say something,” she said when he continued to be silent.

“I’m trying. I’m just”—he paused—“I’m a little floored here.”

“I guess that means no.” She bit her lip.

“No. I mean, I’m not saying no.” More pausing. “I think I’m trying to say I need some time to think about this.”

“About me?”

“Yeah. And about us being an us. How that would work.”

Oh No ):

i was so sure he would be good!!!

“It’s just you’ve made your stance, I guess, pretty clear on things.”

A nervous quiver began to build in the pit of Alice’s stomach. “Oh. That.” She lowered her head. Her fingers toyed with the collar of her shirt when really they wanted to curl into a fist and press against the pain in her chest. But she didn’t want him to see.

“I remember what you said,” he said softly. “I don’t know if it’s something I could give up.” He closed his eyes, hands out in front of him as if he were reaching for the perfect combination of words to break her heart. Alice waited—wanting to hear it, wanting to run, wanting, wanting, always waiting and wanting.

IF HE FUCKS THIS UP I AM GONNA ZAP MYSELF INTO THIS BOOK AND KILL HIM fuck obviously he’s not obligated but C’MON!!!

“i’ve been reading everything that i could“ bye that is so thoughtful

An eerie calm settled over Alice. Every time this happened, she felt her pain with bone-shattering clarity, but this time—nothing. There was nothing. A numbness, surreal but true, made her heart keep beating at a steady rhythm, kept her breathing even, and allowed her to look at him. She watched him fidget and struggle, unsure where to look, what to do with his hands. Was he shaking from nerves or from worry?

Neither of them believed in forever, but for now wasn’t nearly long enough. Until he grew tired, until he moved on, until he left her because of something she had no control over. The thought of pretending, of faking her way through whatever kind of relationship he wanted, made her sick to her stomach. She had to be the one to leave him.

NO!!!!! goddammit!!

“It’s fine. It’s fine.” She inhaled, nodding and staring out the windshield at nothing. “It was my mistake. I should’ve asked and not assumed that you’d be okay with me as is.” She turned to him. “Let’s just forget the whole thing, okay? Everything.”

i’m gonna lose all my shit what the absolute FUCK how are they gonna fix this in 2 chapters

chapter 33, which had better be BETTER:

AWWWW it’s actually a phone call between alice and her dad!! he had a change of heart & agreed to pay for rent and groceries as long as she was in school doing SOMETHING bc he loves her and wants her to be happy ;_;

chapter 34, i’m dying, how will they fix it in one chapter:

“I wish it felt like this stupid, small thing I could crush in my hand, but it doesn’t. I wish it were some line in the sand that I could hop, skip, and jump over, but it’s not. It matters to him enough that the only thing he could say to me was that he cares, which you know, comparatively, wasn’t even that bad, but I can’t stop crying, because I’m pretty sure my heart’s breaking in there.

“A year ago, I would have said whatever. Sure. Yeah. Okay. But not now. Because I really, really like him, he knows everything, and he couldn’t answer me, because it matters enough to make him pause. Just that one stupid, small thing.”

she’s talking about her “breakup” with takumi and she’s miserable but yk what? it’s so good that she’s still not willing to budge and sleep with him just because she wants to be with him. it’s not like an admission fee. she likes him a lot but she’s done compromising herself w/ that line and i’m so proud of her for that

“I’m sorry about what I said the other night. I’m not perfect, but sometimes it really feels like you’re expecting me to be. I know I messed up, but refusing to talk to me isn’t fair. I’d never even heard of asexuality before I met you.”

Alice turned so fast she got a crick in her neck. “Will you hush?” She clamped a hand over his mouth,

sdfksghdkfgj fuck

altho fair point even i have called him perfect like 800 times. he’s trying hard & that’s what matters

oh my god so alice is like look im sorry but i like you too much we cannot be friends and he’s like yeah i think that’s true we can’t be and so she, tearfully, is like: that’s that then! and then he, wonderful man that he is:

“Except it’s not.” He grasped her wrist, rubbing his thumb gently over her pulse point. “I could say that I knew as soon as I saw you that I was doomed. I could say that I fell in love with you the morning after you fell asleep in my guest room and we got into a pillow fight when I tried to wake you up. I could say that when I was sick and you took care of me, almost asking you to marry me sounded like the greatest idea I’d ever had. I could say that every day I don’t talk to you, I feel like I’m dying a slow, melodramatic death.”

Alice stared at him, eyes wide, mouth agape. That kind of declaration was the bread and butter of romance movies, and it was for her.

IS HTIS SPECIFICALLY BECAUSE SHE TOLD HIM SHE LIKED ROMANCE MOVIES oh my god

OH MY GOD

I

JUST 

SCREAMED

ok ok so he kisses her and then starts to kiss her again and then FREEZES

Inches away, eyes locked onto hers, he stopped moving. Alice pressed her lips together, anxious to get out of that frozen stance, but unsure of what to do. Didn’t he want to kiss her again? She wanted him too. What was he waiting for?

Takumi subtly raised his eyebrows.

(A question for her?)

(Oh. Oh.)

Now was probably the wrong time to tease him, but … “You didn’t ask first.”

“I realized that. I’m sorry,” he whispered back, words tickling her skin. “I’d like to kiss you again.”

“I’d like that, too. Yeah.”

I AM WAILING HE ASKED IF HE COULD KISS HER ARE YOU KIDDING ME

i take it back, he’s still perfect

i love this. romance novels for aces. make this a thing! straight women’s wish fulfillment is all that bodice-ripping ravishment BS and aces just want to be asked if it’s A-OK to smooch

She kissed him with everything she had and borrowed what she didn’t.

what a wonderful sentence

On the list of things Alice loved about Takumi, touching him was definitely in the top five. Resolutely she added kissing him to that list. Kisses were not supposed to be like this. They were nice and soft and made her feel warm inside, special, when done right, but were overly wet and vomit inducing when they weren’t. Kisses had never left her with her chest heaving and desperate for more moments like this. She never wanted to stop. She never wanted this kiss to end.

THIS IS REAL...alice understands the struggle.......literally i did gag once during a kiss they are patently Awful

“I already apologized, but I want to do it again, because I truly am sorry that I said what I did. I was too flustered to think properly and instead of taking the time to think like I knew I should have, I tried to answer you right away. I know what I want to say now.”

oh boy

“The reason why I hesitated wasn’t because of sex itself. You were spot on before. Sex is like jogging. Either you enjoy doing it or you don’t. To me, and this is just me, it’s the feeling that I care about—what sex is supposed to represent.”

“And that’s what to you?”

“If you felt the same way as I feel about you, you would want to have sex with me. You would think of me as someone worthy of your passion and desire, and you would show me how you feel physically. Not just with words but with action and urgency,” he continued, “but you don’t and for the most part, I understand. That’s not a part of who you are and I know that doesn’t mean that you don’t have other feelings for me. The thing is, that feeling that you can’t give me? It’s important to me. And I can’t apologize for feeling that way or for wanting it.”

TAKUMI....

oh my god

“This morning it finally clicked. I was thinking of sex, actually having sex, as the Holy Grail, and when I got frustrated, I tried to look at it from a different point of view and I realized something else.

“No one has ever complimented me as much as you do. Every day. All day. I could show up wearing a burlap sack and a tinfoil hat and you’d probably tell me how avant-garde and handsome I looked. You genuinely listen to what I have to say and value my opinion. You tell me I’m wonderful and talented and amazing—”

Alice didn’t mean to laugh—it bubbled out of her before she could stop it. She tilted her head to the side, looked at him, and said, “Because you are.”

“When you thought I didn’t want you, you started to cry,” he said. Alice tried to memorize the gentle look in his eyes as he spoke. “I watched you lower your head, clutch the front of your shirt, and try to smile because you didn’t want me to see how much what I was saying hurt you, because you do desire me. You wanted me so much that me saying no caused you actual pain. The thought of me only caring about not being able to have sex with you hurt because you thought I knew how much you wanted me.”

“For the record, I didn’t cry in the car. I cried in the shower.”

“It was still because of me.” He raised their joined hands and kissed the backs of hers. “It’s the same thing. Whether you’re so overwhelmed you can’t keep your hands off me or you’re crying because you think I don’t want you, it’s the same thing. It comes from the same place. That’s desire. That’s passion. You’ve never held back how you feel about me.”

AREY OU KIDDING ME...lmao i am crying again fully i can’t believe this

i have literally...never once in my entire 12ish years of struggling with this...thought of it that way

not one single solitary time. wow. i love this book. this is the best book ever, dumb fandom references and all

“Thank you,” she whispered, wiping away a rogue tear. She hadn’t realized she’d been waiting for someone, anyone, to say that to her. She knew it was true, of course, but sometimes hearing it out loud made all the difference in the world. “For saying that. Thank you.”

“It’s the truth.” He wiped away another of her traitorous tears with his thumb. “If we take away everything—there’s just you and me, nothing else, I see us together. Stripped down to the core, being with you is what I want because I’m in love with you. If we never had sex, I would still want to be with you because you’re in my heart, too. Just laughing, dancing, and twirling in circles, and I know that sounds weird as hell, but you are. And it’s important to me that you know that.”

STOPPP i’m like boo-hooing i can’t believe this

“So it would make you happy if we had sex?”

“I’m happy now.”

“Fine. You’d be happier, then?”

“Alice, we’ve been dating for five minutes. We have plenty of time to figure out what’s best for us.”

(DATING.)

bless her and bless him too

“Being in a relationship takes actual effort to be successful,” he said. “Not just talking, but listening, being honest, respecting each other, and compromise, you know, those kinds of things. That’s why people say make sure to marry your best friend because once the honeymoon is over? Nothing will save you if the foundation is shitty. But us? Me and you? We don’t have anything to worry about. We got this.”

“Okay.” She breathed. “Okay. I think that’s it.”

“It?”

“Yes. Yeah.” She kissed him.

It wasn’t the Perfect Thing, but it was real and honest and damn it, she’d take that any day.

THAT’S IT!!!!!

HTIS BOOK IS SO GOOD EVERYONE SHOULD KNOW THIS ABOUT ROMANCE

okay and also there is an EPILOGUE:

SHE’S SURPRISING HIM FOR THEIR ANNIVERSARY sdfkljs

“We’re still doing this every month? I thought six was the big one for you?”

“Yes, until we hit one year, and then I’ll stop being quite so extra. Not a lot though. Just a little. No promises.”

It had been seven glorious months.

(SEVEN.)

SIX IS THE BIG ONE FOR HER AND THEY MADE IT SEVEN!!!!

Getting Feenie and Takumi in the same room had taken weeks of machinations and failed attempts. Everything had finally come together on Thanksgiving. Takumi had volunteered to cook, Feenie refused to acknowledge his presence, but right before grabbing a third helping of his macaroni and cheese, she had looked at him, and said, “You hurt Alice, I hurt you. Are we clear? And pass the cranberry sauce. Please.”

(Alice had nearly fainted when she got her wedding invitation. It had been addressed to her and Takumi.)

i’ll allow feenie to be the good egg again

awww and her mom called and things are getting back to normal with them too, takumi’s even gonna meet them!

and then the v last lines:

“I know you make me happy,” he said, seconds away from falling asleep. “I know you love me.”

“I know you love me, too.”

and that’s that

overall review: i fuckin...love this book...it cuts you right to the core and doesn't mess around and the characters are so real and layered and imperfect and messy, and i can’t believe this is this author’s debut novel, like Damn. it is so good, and she is so brave for putting it all out there like that. best book ever 9.5/10 (half a point off for making me think about supernatural, but otherwise: perfect.)

#personal #LTAL