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2022-05-05
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intimidating

Summary:

He comes to a halt right in front of Namjoon, puts one hand on his hip, and says, "I know exactly what you want, but let me tell you that it won't happen. I'm not looking for an alpha."

Notes:

(See the end of the work for notes.)

Work Text:

Seokjin is a little freaked out to say the least.

There's this mean-looking alpha standing outside of the lecturing hall again. It's the third time in a row, and every time Seokjin walks past him, he can't help but feel like he's being watched. This is all the strange guy ever does though; he just stands there and watches, and when Seokjin comes back to this place after lunch or a bathroom break, the guy is no longer there.

It freaks Seokjin out. He has no idea what to do about it.

The following week, Seokjin holds Yoongi back just as they're about to leave their lecture together. Yoongi looks back at him with an expression that is somewhere between vague curiosity and honest murdering intent. "What? I'm starving. Let's go."

"Wait." Seokjin holds onto the sleeve of Yoongi's hoodie to keep him from running off. He peers over Yoongi's black curls into the hallway and whispers, "Do you know this alpha?"

Yoongi follows his gaze, looking at the gloomy person who is leaning against the wall outside of the room yet again, busy tapping away at their phone. "Kim Namjoon? Not really. He's in one of my classes, though. What about him? Is he gonna get us lunch?"

Seokjin smacks his arm. "No! He's been loitering outside this room every time I have this class and I don't know what his deal is."

"So ask him," Yoongi suggests helpfully as he tugs his arm free from Seokjin's loose grip. He looks at him out of the corner of his eye. "Do you think he has business with you?"

"I don't know. I just feel like the one he's watching is me."

"Jesus." The sigh that comes out of Yoongi's mouth is so deep it makes him sound a lot like he's about to explain to a child for the nth time that the sun is yellow and the sky is blue. "Do you have any idea how many people watch you every day? You're, like, the hottest and smartest and most popular omega on campus. This right there," he gestures with his thumb over his shoulder at the guy in the hallway while raising his brows at Seokjin, "is just another addition to your long list of fanboys and fangirls."

"You think he wants to get in my pants?"

"Is essentially what I'm saying."

Seokjin wrinkles his nose. "Can't he be less creepy about it?"

"Just tell him to fuck off," Yoongi offers, and when Seokjin gives him an absent-minded nod, he quickly adds, "but not now. I don't wanna be witness to your savage ass dumping another poor soul. One time was enough. The third time was definitely too much. Let's go and eat."

In the end, it takes Seokjin another week to gather his wits and approach Kim Namjoon. No matter what Yoongi says, Seokjin doesn't go around dumping people on a daily basis and it's definitely not easy for him. Especially when the person he's about to dump could potentially be very much his type if it weren't for the way they're trying to get his attention.

Actually, no, that's not it. Namjoon isn't even actively trying to get his attention. He's still just standing there, leaning back against the wall, his bag slung over one shoulder, the hood of his sweater hiding most of his bleached hair, watching quietly as Seokjin leaves the hall.

And it's kind of funny. The way his eyes widen when Seokjin doesn't make a detour and instead walks straight up to him this time. The slight scowl on his face softens and suddenly the alpha doesn't look so mean anymore. Rather, he resembles a bunny that has come face-to-face with a wolf. His change in demeanor and the way his hand clutches the strap of his bag a little tighter give Seokjin the necessary boost of confidence to confront him.

He comes to a halt right in front of Namjoon, puts one hand on his hip, and says, "I know exactly what you want, but let me tell you that it won't happen. I'm not looking for an alpha." Namjoon silently opens and closes his mouth a few times, but Seokjin goes on before he can come up with a ridiculous response. "Listen. I have a pink belt in karate." Which is a lie. He has never seen a dojo from the inside in his life. "And I won't hold back from making use of it if you don't stop stalking me."

Seokjin is being gaped at like he just recited the entire bible from memory in french while doing a handstand.

"They don't have pink belts in karate," is the first thing Namjoon says to him a few seconds later, his voice deep and a little rough like he hasn't spoken for a while. He clears his throat. "And I'm not stalking you. I'm here because of this—" Namjoon produces something from the pocket of his jacket and dangles it in front of Seokjin's face. "This is yours, right? It says ‘Kim Seokjin' here."

"I—" Seokjin blinks at the phone strap with the little fox charm that is swinging back and forth between his eyes. The fox is wearing an orange bow with his name on it, indicating that it is indeed his. It was a gift from his niece. "Oh?"

"Yeah." Namjoon drops the object into Seokjin's palm, shoving his now empty hand into the pocket of his jeans. "I found it on the floor in front of this room, like, two weeks ago? Sorry it took me so long to return it. See ya."

Seokjin is still so taken aback by all the information and his own stupidness that he can't find it in him to stop Namjoon, so all he does is stand frozen in place as he watches Namjoon's back disappear in a flurry of other people.


"He really isn't interested?" Seokjin huffs and stabs at his salad with a plastic fork. "Not even a little bit?"

Yoongi rolls his eyes, shuts them, and pinches the bridge of his nose between his fingers.

"All he wanted was to return the charm?" The next violent stab into his salad sends a tomato bouncing out of the plastic container. It starts rolling across the table toward Yoongi. "No ulterior motives at all?"

Yoongi catches the tomato and throws it at Seokjin's face.

"What was that for?!" Seokjin exclaims a little too enthusiastically, drawing the attention of a few students toward them. He splutters in embarrassment and rams his fork a few more times into his salad.

"If I didn't know better, I'd say that you want this Namjoon guy to be interested in you."

Seokjin sends Yoongi a glare. Why would he want that? He's just—confused, that's all. It's Yoongi's fault for making Seokjin assume that Namjoon was trying to get into his pants in the first place. Right? That's all.

"You're seriously going to deny it?" Yoongi waits for Seokjin to really start denying it, but Seokjin just turns to his food and shovels some salad into his mouth as if their conversation was therefore over. Yoongi leans forward, making his chair squeak. "Listen."

Seokjin glances at him, petulance written all over his face.

"You'll get him a coffee as thanks for returning that charm to you. Give it to him. Try to make conversation. If he doesn't run after ten seconds, he's interested."

Seokjin chews once. Twice. There's no dressing on this salad.

It would be such a shame if Namjoon wasn't interested in him.

"Now stop breaking your beautiful head over this," Yoongi says and lets himself fall back into his chair with a sigh, appearing very much as if he'd just finished performing a 4-hour heart transplant.

Seokjin gets Namjoon the coffee like Yoongi suggested. It dawns on him only when he's already approaching Namjoon in the hallway that he might not even drink coffee, but then they make eye contact and—yeah, it's definitely too late to run away now.

Namjoon says something to the two guys he's hanging around with before he turns away from them and comes to meet Seokjin halfway. There's a realistic but cute print of a koala on the front of his gray hoodie. He looks nervous.

"Hey." Seokjin holds out the warm cup to him. "For returning the charm to me."

"Well. Ah. You didn't have to," Namjoon says, rubbing a hand over his neck, but he accepts the cup anyway. He studies it for a moment.

"It's just regular coffee from the vending machine outside. I wasn't sure—sorry—I don't even know if you drink coffee—"

"That's fine," Namjoon quickly interrupts him, putting the cup to his lips for a small sip. He tries to suppress a grimace. "It's good."

It's such an obvious lie, but it's adorable that he's trying to be polite. Seokjin can't help but smile.

He remembers what Yoongi told him—‘Try to make conversation. If he doesn't run after ten seconds, he's interested.'

This definitely lasted more than ten seconds, but does it count? Was that enough of a conversation? Seokjin decides to try again, ignoring the fact that they're stalling a little awkwardly in the middle of a busy hallway. "So, I—I wanted to ask you something."

Something in the way Seokjin asked the question seems to make Namjoon even more nervous, but he nods anyway.

Seokjin begins to count the seconds in his head. "I was just wondering… why it took you so long to return the charm. I saw you in front of my class a couple of times, but you never approached me."

Namjoon apparently chokes on thin air and he blushes—outright blushes—but he's not running away, and that's, huh, something. He glances at Seokjin, his expression tense, brows furrowed. "You seem very…" he looks off to the side, unable to keep eye contact, "… intimidating."

Seokjin bursts out laughing. "Intimidating?" Seokjin slaps his own thigh and Namjoon blushes even more. "Me? I literally tried telling you that I have a pink belt in karate. It took me days to gather the courage to appr—"

"Sorry, sorry! I'm in a hurry! Excuse me—"

Puzzled, Seokjin turns his head to the right, just in time to see some random, yelling guy come running down the hall toward them—and before he knows it Namjoon is pushing him back into the wall with a hand against his shoulder; so hard and sudden that it quite literally knocks the air out of Seokjin's lungs. Namjoon steps closer, crowding Seokjin against the wall to get out of the running guy's way.

The guy flies past them, bumping into several people along the way.

Seokjin looks at Namjoon. It sends a rush of adrenaline and excitement through his body when he realizes that he was, basically, almost body slammed into a wall by an attractive alpha.

Well. It's definitely been ten seconds by now, and Namjoon still hasn't tried running away. So. Seokjin unceremoniously grabs Namjoon's wrist and pulls him around a corner into the public bathroom where he shoves Namjoon up against the nearest wall without even checking if they're alone.

Namjoon's backpack slips off his shoulder from the force of hitting the wall and he groans; a guttural sound that sets off all the right alarms in Seokjin's body.

Seokjin tilts his head to the side almost on instinct, but mostly because he wants to; baring his neck.

There's a guy at the sinks that has been watching the situation in surprised horror. He hastily grabs his bag and leaves the room without drying his hands.

Namjoon shifts slightly. He looks so confused and he's still blushing—or blushing yet again.

‘Cute,' Seokjin thinks. ‘So fucking adorable.'

Namjoon's eyes are wild, attentive, playing back and forth between Seokjin's face and his exposed neck like he can't help himself. "Wh-What are you doing?"

"Namjoon-ah," Seokjin purrs and presses his front so closely against Namjoon that he can feel the solidness of Namjoon's chest beneath his clothes. He'll be damned if there isn't attraction and arousal written all across Namjoon's face. "I'm letting you scent me, Namjoon-ah. Can't you tell?" He tilts his head a little more for emphasis, knowing the long line of his neck is perfectly on display.

Namjoon swallows hard, taking a deep breath in through his nose. He's so easy to read and play with.

Seokjin flutters his eyelashes. Smiles. "Am I still looking intimidating to you, Namjoon-ah?"

Namjoon's pupils are so dilated that they make his eyes look dark and dangerous, and Seokjin sees in them the exact moment Namjoon's last resolve finally breaks. There's the touch of fingertips against Seokjin's neck, feather light, careful, and then Namjoon rasps, "Yes, very much."

Notes:

idk what this is. idk what i thought when writing this