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jeongjaebae · 3 years ago

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Heartbreak for hire

❥ Younghoon x reader, 12.8k | AO3 ❥ College AU, romance, fluff, bit of angst(???) ❥ Warnings: mentions of mature subjects, a tiny bit suggestive

❥ Breaking his heart would be easy. Figuring out why someone would want to do that, however, would be an entirely different story.

The first thing you notice is that he's handsome. The second is that there appears to be a lot of zeroes in the amount of money that arrives in your bank account along with this request.

It makes sense at first—the good-looking ones are always worth a ton of money. It's not easy to worm your way into their big circle of friends, and it's even harder to ensure that you're the one they fall for instead of one of the several others crushing on them. But when the request form comes in, you have to do a double take at what the description says.

Kim Younghoon, junior at Creker University. Tall, handsome, but... a bit of a loser.

"Chanhee, are you seeing this?"

Your roommate bends over to take a look at the screen from over your shoulder, narrowing his eyes at the tiny lines of words. A frown forms on his lips as he reads.

An outcast who doesn't have many friends, preferring to spend his time alone as he reads or writes poetry.

"Are you sure someone like him even exists?" Chanhee takes off his glasses and rubs his eyes. "They also don't state a reason for sending the request."

You shrug at him. "Not all of them do. I would assume it's the usual ex or someone who got rejected by him. Maybe he's a heartbreaker himself." Clicking on the picture of this Younghoon guy reveals that he's even more handsome in full screen than he was in the thumbnail. "He certainly has the looks to be one."

"Wait, is that his schedule attached?" He puts his hand on the mouse over your own and clicks the next attachment. "Whoa. Okay, whoever sent this in really wants their revenge, huh?"

"I guess this is going to be an interesting one."

"Alright," Chanhee stifles a yawn, "I'm off to bed. Show me what you have tomorrow, okay?"

"Yeah, of course." You nod at him before going to open a new document. And then, you begin to work on the plan.

Heartbreak for Hire. The red words stare back at you as you go to look at Younghoon's description again before you start jotting down a vague timeline. Chanhee had been the one to come up with the name of the website this time, seeing as he kept calling you 'a walking heartbreak waiting to happen.' Maybe it was time to change the name though. You'd have to ask him if any of the ones you brainstormed sounded good at all, even if you personally thought this was the best name it had in the past two years.

It hadn't even meant to be an official business—it only started in freshman year, when resident fuckboy Kim Sunwoo had broken Jiwon's heart only to go after yours right after. You'd used that chance to play around for a bit, mostly because you were curious about the mindset of a fuckboy, but you never predicted that he would actually fall for you. Chanhee had said you had an affinity for making people fall for you when you wanted them to, and Jiwon had been ecstatic that Sunwoo had finally been put in his place.

Then it became taking requests from some of Jiwon's friends. Star quarterback Juyeon had been left in tears, foodie Haknyeon had stopped going to his favourite restaurant that he'd taken you to, and gamer Hyunjae had quit spending his days at the internet cafe. You'd paid your tuition and rent comfortably and then split the rest with Chanhee when he built the site as a project for a computer science class.

Thus, Heartbreak for Hire had started.

***

The description wasn't exactly wrong. In the week that you've silently observed him for, he does exactly what the description said he would do. Younghoon sits alone during lecture, usually off to the side of the room, and he doesn't speak in class unless he's called on by the professor. In between classes, he's either visiting the student center for lunch or at the library. He sits alone at both places too, sometimes pulling out a book to keep him occupied and other times a little notebook where he writes stuff down. You'd never gotten close enough to actually see what he reads or writes, but it could very well be the poetry that the description form had mentioned.

Kim Younghoon was tall, handsome, and a bit of a recluse.

You sigh, jotting down the last of your plan as you tune out the professor droning on and on about some French book. The course didn't matter to you after all—you were simply auditing the class as part of your plan.

Younghoon sits a few rows in front of you, taking down notes in a fairly neat scrawl from what you could see. That didn't matter either though; this vantage point was only so that after class, you could start executing your perfect plan.

Three, two, one.

You trip on the steps of the lecture hall, bumping right into Younghoon as he walks out from his row after class. The impact makes you tumble a bit, which was a sacrifice that you'd have to make if this were to be realistic at all. So you end up on the floor along with your binder and the couple of notebooks he was holding.

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" You give him an apologetic look. A bit of a pout, extra twinkle in the eyes. "These stairs are spaced so terribly, aren't they?"

He seems to freeze in place with a dazed look in his eyes as he stares back at you. Clears his throat softly before reaching for your binder, then proceeding to offer you a hand to help you up.

You quickly gather the notebooks on the ground before taking his hand. This part was entirely unplanned—you hadn't expected him to help you in any way, so this was going even better than you'd hoped for.

"Thanks," you flash a smile. Forty watts; bright but nothing crazy. "Oh, I believe these are yours."

He takes the notebooks from you and offers your binder in exchange. And there, you had your perfect opportunity to brush his hand just slightly when you reach for it. Younghoon gives you a stiff smile almost as if it's something he hadn't done in years, and then quickly leaves the room.

This was going to be a fun project.

You find him in class the next day—a different class this time, though he still sits in his typical spot midway and off to the side.

"Oh hey! Do you mind if I sit here? Sorry," you quickly add, putting on the harmless person pout, "it's just that transferring to a completely different major has been a rough time and—you're the only familiar face here."

You wouldn't be surprised if he says no, if he simply continues to sit there and stare at you before ignoring you entirely. But he doesn't do that. Younghoon moves his bag over to the seat on his other side, clearing the space for you beside him.

"Thanks." You give him little more than a forty watt smile this time.

"So," he starts quietly, though it takes you by surprise anyway. His voice is fairly low but a soft sort of timbre. "You just transferred into English?"

"Yeah. You know, biology wasn't really my thing."

He hums. "You do know that English isn't easy, right? It's not just bird courses and an easy way out."

Was he implying that you're stupid now?

"Of course not. I just wanted a challenge that wasn't biology." Fingers playing with your necklace. You look over to him to attempt some eye contact, but he doesn't look your way. It's hard to blame him though; these lecture seats are so close together that it's definitely weird to look at the person beside you. "But I guess judging by what you said, you must be so good at it."

The corner of his lip rises just slightly. "Depends on which of the profs you ask."

Then the lecture starts. You pull out your laptop and take some notes to make it look realistic even though they don't make much sense to you, but at least you could grasp that the professor was talking about one of Shakespeare's plays. Was this an entire course on Shakespeare? You'd have to check Younghoon's schedule again and see what each of his courses were.

"Wow, that was quite heavy for a first day." You give him a wry smile as you put away your stuff at the end of class.

Younghoon's expression doesn't change but you could see that there's a look of amusement in his eyes. "Yeah, you have a lot of catching up to do."

"Tell me about it," you chuckle. "I'll see you tomorrow?" Then you give him a small wave, with just enough hesitance, and another flash of the forty-watt smile before heading out of the lecture hall and back to your apartment.

You let out a breath of relief as soon as you're out of the vicinity. The acting wasn't exactly difficult, but it does take a toll on you when there was much more to remember than simply playing a role. You had to control each and every expression on your face as well as your actions to make yourself seem more attractive. To make yourself become someone worth falling for.

"So?" Chanhee looks up from where he sits on the couch, already a permanent part of the living room view you come home to. "Did you scope him out? Did you get a gauge of the difficulty?"

You roll your eyes at him. "My day was great, roommate, thank you for asking. How was yours?"

"I'm taking that as a good sign."

"Hmm, it's kind of hard to gauge right now." You set your bag down and settle in beside him on the couch. "He's tall and handsome, which you might think would make it difficult. Yet he's quiet and doesn't seem to have many friends, which might make it easy? But at the same time, he seems so guarded all the time that making him open up to the idea of love might be a challenge in itself."

Chanhee eyes you carefully and you could see the wheels turning in his sharp mind.

"What?"

"Nothing," he waves dismissingly, turning back to his laptop. "I'm sure it'll be just fine. Make yourself seem harmless and not so intimidating. Or whatever it is you do in these situations."

"Oh, let me tell you a story about that. I sat beside him in his lit class or whatever it was and told him about switching majors and all, and—you know what? He totally thinks I'm dumb." You have to wait for Chanhee to stop laughing before continuing. "He said something like 'this isn't going to be bird courses or an easy way out.' So yeah, I would say the plan is going quite well so far."

"Well, isn't that a good thing? This should be easy then."

"Yeah," you nod, "very easy."

***

The following week consists of time spent clinging onto Younghoon whenever you could. Not to the point where it would be creepy, obviously, but you played the role of a confused and helpless student in need of a tutor perfectly. And surprisingly enough, he was receptive to your attachment and was willing to help you catch up with the couple of courses you'd planted yourself in.

Soon your days began to consist of hours spent at the coffee shop analyzing pieces of literature. Sixty-watt smiles. Stops by the student center where you'd buy him food to make up for the time he spends tutoring you, which was really just a nice excuse to eat together. Playing with your earrings. Classes where he'd have his bag on the other side of him so that you could sit right beside him when you arrive if you weren't already walking to the lecture hall together. Subtle but intentional brushes of your hand against his.

"Have you taken any of the English courses from first or second year?" Younghoon asks, looking up from the book to peer at you.

"Um." You glance at the upper left corner of the room, as if trying to recall past memories. "Yeah, actually. I took a few courses as electives last year just to have some variety in my life."

Of course the story was all prepared in case it came up in conversations. You would have two courses with him, and the other three this term would be in lower-level English courses that you would have to catch up with. It was all a meticulously crafted lie—in reality, the rest of your time would be spent in your actual life of biology lectures and labs.

"Hmm, that would be helpful. Your graduation shouldn't be too delayed then." He hesitates a little before adding, "Why did you want to switch majors?"

"Well," you say slowly, dragging out the word so you can whip up some more of your little story. "Not all of us want to follow our parents' wishes for us to become doctors."

"Oh." Younghoon nods at your words, but you can see the way he bites his lip and looks away.

You quickly backtrack. "But anyway, I'm sure you can understand that it's important to live your life the way you want to."

"Yeah," he shrugs, "maybe you're right."

It becomes silent again when he turns back to the book, and you pretend to follow suit. Had you touched a nerve? You didn't know anything about his story other than what the request description had told you, but he already seemed different from all of your previous targets—there was definitely much more to him than meets the eye. It would be interesting to try to figure him out like putting pieces of a puzzle together.

When you glance at him again, Younghoon seems to have retreated into his head. His eyes may be gliding over the words silently, but it looks like he doesn't absorb much of the content. You hoped that this wasn't what you looked like every time you tried to read, but if it was, at least he hasn't called you out on it yet.

"You can say it, you know?"

He slowly blinks at you. "What?"

"Whatever it is on your mind. You don't have to hold back your thoughts."

"What, you want to hear what I think about this passage?" It comes out almost sarcastic as Younghoon gives you a strange look. Like he doesn't believe what you're saying.

You nod. "Yeah, if that's what you want to talk about. But I mean, if you want to say something outrageous about it then uh. Maybe don't do it in front of the prof," you chuckle. Shrug a little. "But it's fine here. It's just me."

"Oh. Yeah, I guess."

"So," you give him a warm smile, "tell me all about how stupid you think our main character is."

Slowly but surely, you can see the way he relaxes in front of you. With your carefree demeanor and poor attempts at humour, his initial hesitation gradually fades a little more with each turn of the page until he's comfortable enough with freely sharing his thoughts. He still maintains his distance like you knew he would, but you begin to get the sense that he really does want to open up to someone—at least in terms of the material you're studying together, you could feel that he wants to share his analyses of text and his opinions on each author's works. He wants someone to listen to his thoughts.

And listening to him makes you notice just how natural your role comes to you. You hadn't anticipated it to be easy when you'd have to pretend to like something you'd always found boring, but somehow the hours always fly by so quickly whenever you're with him. It makes you notice just how immersed you are in the role that it seems to become your new reality. You find yourself slowly becoming interested in the literary works you analyze with him, looking at them in a different light that allows you to appreciate them despite how you expected them to be putting you to sleep. Then there's the excitement in Younghoon's voice when he explains a passage or the twinkle in his eye when you answer a question correctly—somehow they motivate you to actually want to do better and to learn properly.

"Wait. You don't think it's crazy that Romeo and Juliet happened within a few days?" Younghoon peers at you incredulously over the book he's holding. "That they fell in love within one night?"

"Well, if you put it that way, just remember that Macbeth went from saying no to murder to being very enthusiastic about murder within one night."

He blinks at you, mouth slightly parted like he wants to say something, but nothing comes out.

"What?" you prompt, setting down your own book. "Are you surprised that I remembered?"

Were you really that good at playing your clueless student role or was he still under the impression that you were actually dumb? You didn't know whether to be offended by this or to be glad that everything was going slightly too well according to plan.

"Maybe a little," he admits. "I just... didn't think you'd pay attention to any of the things I said. Or remember them."

Oh.

"Why not? Of course I would pay attention." You gently rest your hand on top of his across the table, encouragingly. "You should give yourself more credit. You've already gotten me caught up with everything that happened in the term so far, and frankly, I like hearing what you have to say. I like—" you, nearly comes out of your mouth. But it wasn't time for that yet. You clear you throat. "I like seeing your perspective on different works."

"Oh." Maybe it's just the lighting but there's a pale pink that seems to creep across his cheeks. His skin feels hot under your hand, so you let go.

"Anyway, going back to Romeo and Juliet. You can't put a timeline on love, Younghoon. It just happens whenever it happens." Then in a quieter voice, you add, "There's no need to hold back from it or to try to dodge it."

"Fair enough." Younghoon nods slowly. He goes back to his book and a comfortable silence falls between the two of you again.

When you glance at the calendar on your phone, it tells you that you're supposed to fall in love with him two days from now.

***

The day of your confession comes in the form of both Chanhee's text and your own calendar reminder, which were actually quite unnecessary when this day hasn't been off your mind for a moment. It had required some intensive planning—Younghoon seemed like a romantic after all, so you wanted to do something that would suit him.

He agrees to your suggestion of a nice dinner at a place near campus that was just slightly above casual yet wasn't over the top. You're not sure why he agrees. But at this point you couldn't think of any reason that he would agree to this if it wasn't for being interested in you, so you take it as a good sign.

Dinner goes smoothly for the most part. You set out for ordering food that wouldn't be too difficult or messy to eat, but the main turns out to be much saucier than it sounded. Definitely not cute, but you could only hope that he was already in deep enough that he could overlook it.

"There's no way that actually happened." Your jaw drops as he finishes telling a whole rollercoaster of a story about his friend. "That's crazy."

"I can't believe it happened either," Younghoon laughs. "Meeting someone who also got stood up is already such a rare occurrence, but having to hide under the table so that they could get free dessert?"

"And the fact that they got together after that? Absolutely wild. Your friend Eric sounds like a fun person though." You look up to see the waiter coming by with your dessert. "Speaking of dessert, ours is finally here."

"Unfortunately not free," he chuckles, "but I'd rather have your company than free food."

The waiter sets a couple of candles on your table along with the dessert—you're not sure why but this would work to your advantage for the next few minutes.

"Hey, Younghoon," you start hesitantly, "can I talk to you about something?"

"Yeah, of course."

You dig into the cake first, taking a bite of it as you let the words hang in the air. "I guess there's really no good way of saying this."

"Hmm?"

"I didn't mean for this to happen. But I guess I should've seen it coming." You take a deep breath, "I like you. I really like you, Kim Younghoon."

If it were anyone else, you might expect a smile or some sort of pleased expression. But Younghoon simply furrows his brows. He frowns at your confession. "Are you sure? You barely know me, Y/N."

"Then let me know more of you. Let me see more of you and let me like more of you." So sappy, you think. Would it inspire a poem? Would adding sugar to these words make them more convincing? "I just know that you're a good person. I've seen the way you care for others, the way you're in love with life itself. And I just want you to know that I admire that."

Younghoon doesn't say anything, but you could tell that there's a wavering in his eyes. As if he's just barely holding himself back from wanting to give in.

The rest of your confession gets lost amongst the waiters that come by to take away the empty plates and used cutlery. It was bad timing on your part, but you were sure Younghoon wouldn't have said much in response anyway. Maybe he found the interruption to be a relief that saves him from having to talk. Well, as long as it does the job, it doesn't matter if your confession wasn't perfect.

The night air is cool when the two of you take your time walking in a comfortable silence. Younghoon looks deep in thought beside you, too stuck in his own head to notice you constantly sneaking glances at him.

So you ground him—you walk a little closer to him so that the back of your hand grazes lightly against his, and then you're taking his hand. Intertwining your fingers until his fit so perfectly between yours. He glances at you with surprise, but soon there's a shy smile that spreads across his lips.

"But anyhow, don't let my confession plague you," you say when it's time to part after you get back to campus. You pause only to look down and fiddle with the ring on his finger—a mask of the nervousness that you're supposed to be feeling. Perhaps there's some real nervousness too since your heart does pound loudly when you glance at him and try to read every one of his expressions. That much is real. "My feelings for you are my responsibility only, so you don't have to worry about letting them get between us, okay?"

Just before you turn to leave, you give him a small wave that he returns. The same shy smile is on his face—a tiny one that barely moves the corners of his lips, but you see it in his eyes. His eyes have softened, the wall lowered.

You smile a little to yourself as you pull out your phone to update Chanhee.

You: first mission accomplished. he's on the hook.

***

Younghoon doesn't respond to your confession. At least, not verbally.

The lack of empty tables at the library and cafe led to taking the study session to his apartment, a cozy place just on the outskirts of campus. It was quite neat for someone who lived alone; there were none of the piles of clothes you expected to find, and the books you thought would be scattered across tables were neatly organized on the shelves instead.

"You want a drink?" He takes the stuff out of his bag and sets them on the small table in front of the couch. "I have coffee, tea, and some other things."

"Hmm, surprise me."

It ends up being some sort of strawberry soda.

He settles in on the couch beside you and that's when notice the small black notebook lying on the table. The one that you've seen him carry around with him when you silently observed him all those weeks ago. You pick it up, tracing your fingers over the worn-out edges.

"Oh, is this the notebook that you've been doing your writing in?"

"Wait—" he immediately makes a move to grab it from your hands but stops himself halfway.

"Hmm? I was just kidding." You give him a reassuring smile, holding out the notebook to him. "Younghoon, I would never invade your privacy like that."

"Oh. Well, actually..." He bites his lip, suddenly avoiding your gaze. "If you did want to look through it," he takes a deep breath, "you can."

No, it's okay—I didn't mean to pressure you, is on the tip of your tongue when you realize. Despite his initial reaction, you get the feeling that he wants you to see it. As if he's letting you in and wants you to get a glimpse of his heart through his work.

"Are you sure?" you say instead.

Younghoon nods, hesitant but firm. "The last couple of pages. I-I wrote some poems... about you."

"About me?" You carefully flip open the notebook, turning to the last few pages with writing on them. "Oh."

You recognize his familiar penmanship in black ink across the pages. The letters have a slight tilt as if one leading on to the next, a graceful balance between print and cursive. But what you notice the most is how the words seem to be alive. As you read through his delicately written poems, his words begin to paint a picture in your mind. You start to see yourself from his perspective, from the moment your hands brushed in the lecture hall, to the brilliant smiles you'd shown him, to your confession. You see the times he wanted to smile back, the times when he was touched you remembered something he said. The times his heart thudded when you met his eyes. Each moment was captured in the fine lines of ink gracing the pages.

"This is really embarrassing," he mumbles, turning away from you. "Maybe you shouldn't be reading them. It's kind of stupid."

"No, Younghoon. It's not stupid. Anything that's worth liking is not stupid." You set down the notebook and go to cup his jaw, turning his head so that he's looking right at you. There's a flush on his cheeks that feels hot under your fingertips, but he doesn't avoid your gaze this time. "They're amazing. You're amazing. If it's any reassurance, I can easily say that this is the most romantic thing anyone's ever done for me. You have such a way with words that the emotions they bring are almost tangible. It's a gift, really. I've always admired your perspective and how look at life like you're right where you belong."

He's not the only one who's surprised by your little speech. It surprises you too. You had meant to give one of your typical responses from your plans, something casual but just enough to keep him in your subtle game of push and pull. But everything you said had ended up being the truth.

"Really?" he whispers. His eyes shine with such a bright glimmer of hope that it you find it hard to breathe. The weight of it crushes you, knowing that all of this is not as real as he thinks it is.

But you brush the thought away.

You give him a soft smile. "Yeah, Younghoon. Thank you for showing me."

What you do next is not in your calendar nor in the plans. It's as if you throw everything to the wind when an urge tells you to lean in towards him. It tells you to forget all about the plans because none of it matters except for Younghoon's lips and the way his gaze slowly travels down to yours. The way you really want to find out what it's like to kiss him, to have him in such a vulnerable state of intimacy that he once felt was impossible.

So you lean in, giving in like you've always said he should. You give in to the fluttering of your heart when his eyes close bit by bit, and you give into the burning of your cheeks when he wets his lips.

And then you finally close the distance. You can sense his hesitation at first, holding back like he always does. But as you kiss him and as your hands caress his cheeks ever so tenderly, he slowly relaxes into your kiss. Younghoon's lips move against yours until he's kissing you back, until his lips part and you can taste the heat of his mouth and the strawberry soda on his tongue. A faint sweetness, just like his presence.

The books and notes stay on the table and the studying long forgotten by the time you decide to head home. A glance at the stream of unread texts from Chanhee makes you realize that you'd also completely forgotten about updating him with today's progress.

***

Your roommate confronts you first thing in the morning. Chanhee waits for you in the kitchen with coffee for the two of you, which usually would've been a very nice start to your day, but there's a sense of dread weighing down your stomach. You'd wanted to avoid updating about yesterday because it seemed wrong to be telling anyone about how Younghoon's hair felt between your fingers or how he smelled like orange blossoms when you buried your face in his chest. The poems were a different realm entirely—maybe you'd talk about the kissing if Chanhee asks but revealing anything about the poems felt too much like an invasion of privacy.

So you give him quite a watered-down version of what happened. The two of you had gone to Younghoon's place, and you'd studied the passage that would be on your upcoming quiz, obviously. You'd had strawberry soda and ordered takeout. And that was it. No mentions of kissing, and no mentions of the poems.

Chanhee narrows his eyes at you as if searching yours for answers omitted from your words. "So when are you planning on ending it with him?"

"Maybe in a few more weeks?" you say hesitantly. "I just need to be sure that's he's actually on the hook."

A lie. You don't know why you lie, but perhaps you really weren't completely sure that he has feelings for you. Perhaps you really don't know how long you needed to get him to fully open up to you. Younghoon seemed to guard his heart so tightly that for once you weren't confident in your ability to worm your way in.

Chanhee rolls his eyes dramatically. "Y/N, there's no doubt he's on the hook. The guy is absolutely in love with you already."

"What, did you see him on campus or something?"

"Yeah, I saw the two of you," Chanhee nods, staring at you like it's something obvious. "It was so apparent from the way he looked at you. He's never come close to making such facial expressions before meeting you."

"Um," you pause to take in his words. Stare at him. "So you've also seen him before I met him?"

"I had my own observation period, you know?" He shrugs nonchalantly but a hint of a smirk appears on his face. "The description made him sound so strange that I wanted to see him with my own eyes."

"And? What did you think of him?" you ask nervously. Why did it suddenly feel like you were seeking your friend's approval for a boyfriend?

Chanhee takes a sip of his coffee as he thinks. "Well, the description wasn't wrong..."

"But?"

"But there seems to be much more to him than meets the eye."

"Yeah, of course." You take a sip of your own coffee, then try to search his face for any clues of what he's thinking. "That description barely did him any justice. Clearly whoever sent in this request took his strengths and turned them into his flaws. I just don't get why anyone would hate him so much though."

Your roommate nods slowly, though his face shows he's completely unconvinced. "Right. So. He's definitely in love with you already. And as your manager, I would advise you to end it soon."

"I guess," you mutter under your breath. "Just give me a few more weeks to make sure."

"Don't drag this out, Y/N. Nothing good will come out of it."

You down the rest of the coffee and flash a convincing smile before heading out. Younghoon would be expecting you soon.

But on your walk to campus, Chanhee's words keep repeating in your mind. Was Younghoon really in love with you already? That sentence alone should be enough to make you pleased, because this is what you wanted this whole time. It was a sign that you've successfully completed most of your mission. But for some reason, it's hard to feel happy about it.

***

Asking Younghoon for the translated version of The Little Prince was not an excuse to go back to his place. It wasn't, since you really did not want to attempt analyzing the original copy in French when you could barely count to ten in the language. Yet the shy look he gives you has your heart doing a little leap. The knowledge that you would be alone with him again certainly did not help, nor did the knowledge that he was all too aware of it too.

Maybe the two of you would actually be studying this time though—you'd asked for his copy of the book after all. Maybe you would just be silently reading while he works on that essay he had yet to finish.

And it does go well. The two of you end up lying on the couch, reading the book together as he points out his favourite quotes and helps you with their analyses.

"What do you think of this one?" Younghoon holds the book closer to you, pointing at a couple of lines near the top of the page.

It's the time you spent on your rose that makes your rose so important...People have forgotten this truth, but you mustn't forget it. You become responsible forever for what you've tamed. You're responsible for your rose.

"Oh, I remember seeing this one before when I read a summary earlier." You take the book and flip through it briefly, glancing at the cute drawings of the little prince on all of the planets he travels to. It brings back some memories from when the book had been mentioned in high school, although you hadn't paid much attention in class at the time when you'd found it so boring. When you hadn't had the ability to appreciate things like you do now. "Hmm, I feel like it sums up the central moral of the story quite nicely. What do you think of it?"

"It's one of my favourite quotes," Younghoon says, setting the book down. There's a sparkle in his eye that makes you stop to catch your breath for a second. "Isn't it beautiful that the time and effort you put into something is what ends up making it unique?"

"Yeah," you nod. "There may be hundreds of roses that look the same as yours, but they're not the same because they're not the one that you personally watered and watched grow."

That makes him break into a soft smile. "Exactly. And that alone is what makes it more special to you than the rest of the roses in the world." He pauses to brush a strand of hair away from your face. "That's what makes your rose something you can call yours."

His fingers trail to your cheek and then your jaw, tracing over your features lightly as if a paintbrush on a canvas. And you try not to stare at the warmth contained in his gaze and in his fond smile, but it's as if they cradle you, they coax you until the lines blur and you're unsure of whether this is real or an act. They make you want to give in in the same way you want him to.

"So are you my rose, Younghoon?" you murmur. "Are you mine?"

His thumb lingers on your lower lip for just a second before he answers. "I'll be your rose. Then Y/N, you know you're responsible for my heart now?"

"Yeah, I suppose I am."

The smile on his face widens and it's the last thing you see before his lips are on yours. He kisses you first this time as if he's finally opening up to you, and you find yourself wanting, always wanting, more and more. To hear what it's like when his breath hitches, when he lets out muffled moans against your neck. To see the pleasure written across his face when he stops holding back and lets go. You find yourself wanting him in more ways than you can fathom.

The thought leads to a slight twisting of your stomach, though it quickly becomes hard to remember why when he's now giving in like you'd always wanted him to. When his kisses you and touches you so gently as if you're as delicate as a rose. Maybe you were actually the rose, and he was your prince. Maybe he was responsible for the quickening of your pulse and the inevitable smiles on your face when you're with him.

In the morning when you go to grab the book for class, you can see another quote on the page it's open to.

But if you tame me, then we shall need each other.

***

Chanhee confronts you again as soon as you open the door. At this rate, you'd been avoiding his messages—you'd sent short and vague texts updating him on what had been happening, but some nights you'd put your phone on do not disturb before entirely ignoring it.

"Are you avoiding me?" is the first thing he says. He takes your hand and sits you down at the table before you could run off to hide in your room.

"Um. No?"

"Then why are you ignoring my texts?" Chanhee narrows his eyes suspiciously. "Y/N, what's been going on?"

You avoid his gaze, staying silent even though it would only make you seem more guilty.

"Jiwon stopped by yesterday. Dropped off some bio notes for you." He passes you the folder sitting on top of the counter, a questioning expression on his face. "Have you not been keeping up with school?"

"Um." You shrug. "I might be a little behind?"

Chanhee raises an eyebrow. "Yeah, but this is the first time I've seen you so enthusiastic about reading a play that you'd rather do that than study your gene regulation or whatever it was."

"Oh."

The folder feels thick beneath your hands even though you've only missed a few classes. But when you flip through it, the practice tests and the slides with Jiwon's neat writing filling the margins only serve as a reminder of how much of your real life you've missed while stuck in the role of your fake one.

"Y/N, this is about Younghoon, isn't it?" Chanhee sighs, sitting down beside you. "I knew it wasn't a good idea for you to take him on. Everything from the amount of money to the way his profile was written all looked strange."

You meet his gaze. "Wait, Chanhee, that's exactly it. I've been feeling quite hesitant about," you gesture vaguely, "ending this. But I think that's because I really can't understand why anyone would target him."

"So you haven't spotted any red flags?"

"No, I don't think so." You frown, trying to recall if you'd felt anything but safe and loved while around him. "He's sweet. Literally like a big teddy bear. And of course I don't know everything about him, but I know for a fact that he's different from all of our previous targets."

Chanhee matches your puzzled expression. "That makes it sound like this is a personal vendetta against him. Maybe stemming from a misunderstanding? Do you think there was someone he's rejected in the past?"

"He hasn't mentioned anyone," you shake your head. "But even if there was someone like that, I'm not liking the look of this."

"Does he not have any red flags at all? Maybe something that he's hiding from you?"

"Hmm, well." You pause to think. "Actually, the only red flag might the way he pours the milk before the cereal. Other than that, I really can't think of anything else."

Chanhee's frown deepens. "He—wait what?"

"Yeah, I had to do a double take when he did that."

"That's not what I meant," he waves dismissingly. "You were at his place? Eating breakfast? When this happened?"

"Um." Oh. You quickly wrack your brain, trying to think of excuses that didn't place you in Younghoon's apartment in the morning. Though you suspect that Chanhee must've known anyway when you didn't answer his texts nor come home that night. "Yeah."

"I'm not going to comment on your... personal life," he gives you a pointed look, "but you have to stick with the plan, Y/N. Someone's bound to get hurt if you don't."

"Yeah. Right."

Indeed it had been a stupid thing to do. Kissing your targets was already a sort of grey area but sleeping with them was entirely outside of the agreement. It was stupid of you to spend the night at his place, waking up in his bed with limbs intertwined and sheets tangled as if it were something truer than it should've been. Something real. And then staying for breakfast on top of that and walking to class together with your hand in his—it seemed like a lot of your actions concerning Younghoon had become quite reckless lately.

You check the calendar once you collapse into your bed. It tells you the breakup should've happened three days ago.

***

There's a sinking of your heart when you think about seeing him today. How was it possible to simultaneously feel such happiness and such dread? You wanted to see that beautiful smile of his; you hated the fact that what he was smiling at was only a facade. You wanted him to open his heart; you wanted him to keep his guard up so that he could protect himself from the impending heartbreak. You wanted him to love you; you wanted him to hate you and leave you before you could leave him.

"Hey, are you okay?" The sound of Younghoon's voice pulls you out of your thoughts.

"What?"

"What's wrong, Y/N?" He gives you a worried frown before enveloping you into a hug. "Talk to me."

You heave a sigh, tightening your arms around him as you breathe in his faint scent of orange blossoms and jasmines. Would it be so bad to just stay in his arms forever? You wanted to drown in him, to be so overwhelmed by his love that you forget everything except for the sound of your own name coming out of his mouth. But unfortunately, he couldn't be the solution to your problems if he was also the cause of them.

"Have you ever been stuck in your own kind of 'to be or not to be' moment?" you ask quietly.

Younghoon pulls back to look at you with wide eyes. "You can't mean you're actually contemplating life or death here, right?"

"No," you shake your head. "But I feel like I'm stuck between two decisions. To suffer through the slings and arrows of one even though it may be comfortable and safe, or to end the heartache even though it's uncertain what might happen next."

"Do you think I could help you with this?" An ironic question. It makes you heart hurt seeing that he was so willing to help you make this decision, one that he had no idea was about him.

"Sure," you meet his eyes just briefly, "but um, I can't give you any details."

"That's okay, I get it." He smiles and takes your hand in his, lacing your fingers together. "Well, if it's not concerning matters of life or death like in the play, hmm," he hums as he thinks. "I would say that there's no point in suffering through your sea of troubles. If you're not happy with where you are, then there must be some things that need to change. And even if it's uncertain what may happen next, there are so many possibilities out there that you could run into something good. You'd just have to take a leap of faith to find out."

You nod slowly, trying to process his words. Maybe he was right. Maybe continuing on the path to breaking his heart wasn't the answer, but rather taking a leap of faith and revealing the truth. Whether that might lead to losing him forever or... something else entirely.

"You're smart, Y/N. I trust that you'll make the right decision." Younghoon leans over to gently press a kiss to your lips. "Whichever one you end up deciding on."

When he kisses you again, his lips taste like sadness.

You nearly run home after giving some lame excuse that you can barely remember. With all the uncertainties and dilemmas in your mind, there was one thought that was now crystal clear to you: Younghoon doesn't deserve this. You had to stop this agreement somehow.

"Chanhee, I need to find out who sent in that request," you blurt as soon as you yank the door open.

"Are you okay?" He blinks at you, lowering his glasses. "And why? We said they would all be anonymous, Y/N. This is breaking the contract that you made them sign."

"I just—I can't do this anymore. I need to find out who sent it because Younghoon doesn't deserve this. He never did, and I have no idea who in the world would want to break his heart. If we find out who sent it, maybe I could go talk to them." You start pacing around in front of him, yanking at your hair in frustration. "I could return their money and back out of the deal."

"It's a lot of money though."

"I know. But he doesn't deserve this, Chanhee. There has to be something else going on, something strange. You've got to trust me on this." You then heave a sigh and collapse onto the couch beside him. "Even I have morals, you know."

Chanhee looks at you and then suddenly bends over in laughter. "Kind of hard to believe when we've been running this business since freshman year."

You sigh again.

"But Y/N," he takes your hand and gives it a squeeze, "if this is what you want, I'll find them for you, okay?"

"You're the best, roommate."

You try your hardest to avoid Younghoon for a while whenever you could. It wasn't that you didn't want to see him, but rather you couldn't stand seeing him show you so much love when you'd lied about everything. It was like kicking a puppy—the one person that he trusted was now betraying him. So the studying at the library became needing to help your roommate clean the apartment. Going over to Younghoon's place became a meeting for a group project in one of the courses you didn't share with him. Lunch breaks in the student center became catching up with your friend Jiwon.

Luckily, the result comes out fairly quickly. Chanhee was quite a genius after all, so it really shouldn't be too surprising when he corners you the moment you walk through the door a few days later. He's holding his laptop, glasses on his head, and bathrobe crumpled and half off his shoulder as if he hasn't slept in days.

"So," he stares you down. "Bad news first or good?"

You give him a questioning glance, stepping around him. "Um. Good news?"

"Okay." Chanhee nods, clicking around on his laptop as he follows you to the couch. "The good news is that I found the person who sent in that request."

"Oh. So who was it?" You had not prepared yourself for this moment.

"That," he glances over at you with a frown, "is the bad news."

"Why? Does he have some crazy ex? From what he's told me, I don't think he's dated anyone before—"

"Y/N." He puts the laptop down on the table and sits beside you. Takes both of your hands in his. "It's not his crazy ex... it's yours. Kim Sunwoo."

***

You couldn't believe it. Of all the people that you'd imagined who could've sent the request, Sunwoo was probably the farthest from what you expected. Why did it do it? Younghoon didn't seem to have any ties with the guy, and you certainly didn't either since breaking up with him in freshman year. Could they have known each other in the past? The worse case scenario you could think of was that maybe Sunwoo used to bully Younghoon in high school. Maybe he sent the request to continue it.

Sunwoo doesn't notice you until you're right in front of his table at the student center. He looks up lazily, a tiny smirk ghosting his lips.

"You sent in that request, didn't you?"

He stares at you silently before shrugging. "I might have. What's it to you?"

"Why did you do it?"

"Kind of wanted to see the infamous Y/N dating a loser," he shrugs again, the smirk on his face growing. "How's that been going for you?"

"Younghoon is not a loser," you growl. "He's a better person than you will ever be."

"Yeah? What, are you dating him for real now or something?" Sunwoo laughs and you want to smack that look right off his face. "Wow, didn't think you were this easy."

"Just shut up." Reaching into your bag, you pull out the wad of cash that you'd taken out of the bank today. You shove it at him. "I'm returning this to you and backing out of our deal. So don't contact me ever again."

Then you leave. You leave thinking that doing this made things right. That maybe this would make telling Younghoon the truth a little easier on your guilty conscience. Or that maybe you wouldn't need to break up with him at all, and what you had with him could become real.

But the rumours begin to spread shortly after the confrontation with Sunwoo.

There's no doubt that it was Sunwoo who spread them, seeing as he was the only other person who knew about your fake relationship with Younghoon. It was easy to brush off the whispers in class and the stares in the student center; it didn't matter what people thought of you since you've always had some sort of reputation anyway.

None of it mattered except for the way Younghoon doesn't text back that night, and the way he wears his emotions on his face when you walk into class the next morning.

"Tell me it's not true. Please, Y/N. Say it's not true." Sadness clouds his features as he fights back the tears. He looks absolutely broken.

You wanted to lie to him. To tell him that none of this was true. But for the amount of damage you'd already caused, you owed him the truth no matter how difficult it was.

"I... I'm sorry, Younghoon."

"But how could you, Y/N? I trusted you. I thought we—you were—" Younghoon bites his lip and then quickly wipes his eyes with the back of his hands. He runs out of the room.

You leave too. There was no longer any reason for you to sit in a class you weren't even enrolled in.

There's no reason to chase after him either, so you allow your steps to slow to a stop right outside the lecture hall. Because when you think about it, wasn't this what you wanted when you first laid eyes on the request that came in? Seeing him broken like this was supposed to indicate that you've successfully completed another mission. But the way he'd squeezed his eyes shut and the way his lip had quivered—seeing that had only made your own heart hurt. They make you regret ever accepting this request, ever starting this business in the first place.

When you get home, you finally reveal everything to Chanhee. Everything from your feelings for Younghoon and how you were going to tell him the truth, to the confrontation with Sunwoo and the start of the rumours. And as he listens, it dawns on the two of you that the website should be shut down. That maybe it should've never existed. There would be no more requests, no more targets, and no more pretending to be someone you're not for the sake of hurting others. It was already difficult to remember why you thought it was such a good idea in the first place—taking pride in being able to make anyone fall for you, and then using it to hurt them? It all sounds so stupid and hurtful now. But none of it mattered anymore.

None of it matters aside from the way Younghoon leaves the room right when you walk in. The way he sits in a corner as far from you as possible when he spots you in the library or at the student center, the way he seems to cower until he's so small despite being so tall. It's as if he's gone back to the way he was before meeting you, but to an even more extreme level—the walls are up and barricaded, refusing to as much as let anyone give him a glance.

It takes a week before you can muster up the courage to try to talk to him.

"Younghoon! Wait up. Can we talk?" You reach for his arm on instinct, but he flinches away from you. "Please?"

His eyes are already guarded but you can see the way they harden even more. "What is there to talk about? Haven't you done enough?"

"What?"

"You've managed to do what you set out to do, right?" He scoffs. "You win."

"No, Younghoon," you shake your head. "Listen, I gave that money back. I backed out of the deal because I couldn't do it anymore—"

"So?"

"So I care about you, genuinely. I couldn't go on with the deal anymore because I actually care about you. I don't want to break your heart, Younghoon. I want to love y—"

"Sorry to disappoint, Y/N." He finally looks you right in the eye. "But you can't exactly break my heart if I never fell for you in the first place."

"H-hey," you say just as he's about to turn away. "You can't just trust everything you hear, you know."

He barely spares you a glance. "Yeah? You also can't trust everyone who's nice to you."

And with that, he leaves. Never once turning back.

You heave a sigh, heading back home instead of going to any of the bio lectures you had scheduled for the rest of the day. You tell yourself that this was to be expected—surely, you couldn't have hoped that he would just magically forgive you and that things would fall back together so easily? If you'd learned anything from all the reading you'd done, it was that 'The course of true love never did run smooth.'

Ever since starting the business, you'd always thought that there was bound to be some red flags with each of your targets because surely they're targets for a reason, right? Maybe they were an asshole to everyone around them, maybe they were playing around with people and stringing them on. Maybe they spread nasty rumours. But in all of the time you spent with Younghoon looking for a red flag, you never realized that maybe you were the red flag. You were the one playing around with hearts, breaking them one by one until they're crushed beneath your feet. And this time with Younghoon, it was never about the target. It was about you.

Maybe Sunwoo didn't send that request because he wanted you to date someone he thought was a loser. Maybe this was his way of getting revenge on you—sending you a good guy whom he knew you'd actually fall for, and then having the heartbreaker's own heart get broken.

***

In the weeks you spend hanging around the apartment, you notice that Chanhee seems to feel guilty too. He helps you clean the living room, makes you coffee, and tries to cheer you up. It felt to you as if he was putting his efforts into the wrong person because you didn't deserve it at all, but you could also understand him. He may not have been the one to do the heartbreaking nor was he the one in direct contact with the people you went after, but you could tell that the guilt from creating the website and managing it seemed to be catching up with him now.

It was as if the haze in your mind had lifted once the website was shut down, and you were finally able to take a step back and evaluate the choices you'd made. How had the two of you become so lost in this journey? It's not that you had no morals—you knew that you were both decent people. But how had this business clouded your judgment so much? How was it possible to lose every sense of your being to such a worthless cause?

Perhaps now you realize how Macbeth had met his downfall, and how Hamlet had spiralled into his descent to madness.

"If you're that miserable then at least try to win him back," Chanhee raises an eyebrow at you from his usual spot at the couch. "Do something. Don't just mope around."

"I can't just do that. How could I ever dare show my face again when I've hurt him so much?"

The black coffee you're holding barely tastes bitter over the mask of how bitter your life had become. Between all the catching up you've had to do for your biology classes, you'd thought that there would be no time to think about him. And it wasn't like you've never been through a breakup before, but none of them had felt like this.

Your roommate glances at you up and down, frowning. "You do know it's not that simple? Yeah, you've hurt him but that doesn't mean his feelings for you will be erased just like that. And if you really want this, then you shouldn't be giving up so easily either."

"Maybe, but this isn't some kind of romance novel where the main characters always end up together," you groan. "And besides, how am I supposed to just win him back? He's probably blocked me on all platforms and never wants to see me again."

"Well, how did you get him to fall for you? Could you use the same tactics?"

"Ugh, don't even talk about that." You bury your head in your hands. "Everything was so fake, okay? No more tactics or games. I want to throw up just thinking about how I did that to him."

Chanhee crosses the room and sits down in the chair beside you. "Y/N, I'm sure not all of it was fake. If you're feeling this way right now, then that means you really did bare a part of your heart to him." He puts an arm around you, rubbing soothing circles on your back. "Everything you did for him outside of the plans when you strayed from them—those things weren't fake, okay? You did them out of your sincere feelings towards him."

"I guess." You sniffle, wiping the tears away with your sleeve. "But what am I supposed to do now?"

For someone who's always had a way of winning people's hearts and a bunch of tricks up your sleeve, you suddenly feel so lost. Without knowing the end result, without having the plan that you'd always so intricately built, it felt like you were grasping with the unknown.

"Show him your sincerity," Chanhee suggests. "He likes poetry right? You can attempt to write a poem."

You nearly spit out your coffee. "Is that a joke?"

"Obviously. Please don't actually write any," he deadpans. Then he nudges you playfully. "Hmm, how about a love letter? Handwritten on paper of course. I don't mean typing it out and printing it or anything like that."

"That might work." You nod, already thinking of potential things to write about. "Thanks for the idea."

"Just make sure your writing is neat, okay? You might need a bit of practice first."

You flick him on the forehead before retreating to your room.

***

Younghoon, I'm sorry. If you do decide to read this, just know that I honestly regret what I did. Though you have to know that I don't regret getting to know you or being with you. I don't regret any moment I've spent with you. The things I said to you were all genuine. I didn't need to fake those. I only lied about switching majors but the things that you've taught me were things that I've actually come to enjoy. My feelings for you are genuine too. I'm really sorry that we met this way, but maybe in another life—

You shake your head, erasing the last part. That was dramatic even for him.

I'm really sorry that we met this way, but I'm not sorry to have loved you—

Was that any better? Maybe it should be erased too.

"It's fine, Y/N. You're allowed to express your love in a love letter," Chanhee rolls his eyes from where he stands behind you, looking at your letter from over your shoulder. His face wears an expression of disgust despite the reassuring words he just said.

"Hey!" You quickly cover up your letter. "Were you standing there the whole time?"

He chuckles, nodding. "Are you done? Let's go send it to lover boy, shall we?"

And so, Chanhee walks you to the library. You don't have to check Younghoon's schedule to know that he would be between classes, probably studying by himself at this hour. It briefly makes your heart clench; you'd missed the times when the two of you hung out together, but now he'd be alone just as he'd been before you came along and ruined his life.

"This makes me feel like some boy in a romcom," you mutter under your breath. The envelope sits between your fingers, slightly wrinkled from how much you've fiddled with it on your way to campus. "You know. The whole throwing a stone at your window, waiting there with a giant sign and a boombox."

"That would be a little difficult to do when he lives in an apartment building," Chanhee laughs. "Just stick with your love letters, okay? I'm sure he'll appreciate those."

Chanhee lingers a few paces behind you when you walk up to the section of desks in the library. Younghoon was easy to find—this was one of the usual tables where the two of you had spent your time.

You're standing right in front of him when he finally looks up, but Younghoon quickly lowers his head back to his notes when he realizes it's you. It nearly makes you back out of this entire plan, and if it weren't for Chanhee making somewhat encouraging faces at you, maybe you really would have. But you don't. You reach over and quietly set down the envelope on the desk in front of him, then you leave.

The love letter delivery continues the next day.

Truthfully, you had no idea what to write now that the words you wanted to say had already been said. You've already expressed how sorry you were, and you'd said before how much you admired him, how you wanted to learn about every part of him. What was left for you to write to him about?

So you tell him about yourself instead—your true self. You tell him about your real major, your roommate Chanhee, your friend Jiwon. Some of your notable memories from childhood. Your favourite books and movies and foods. Then you tell him how the idea for this business started, and how you lost yourself in the process. Being intrigued by him, straying from your plans, and then falling for him. Having this teach you that maybe you weren't better than your targets with red flags all over, and that maybe you weren't better than the ex that put you up to this. You give him a piece of your heart in this letter in the hopes that you could return how much of his he's given you.

You find Younghoon at the student center this time, during the hour-long lunch break between classes. At least he hasn't made any major changes to his routine. You would be in trouble if you couldn't even find him on campus, and maybe then you'd really have to resort to throwing stones on his sixth-floor apartment window.

Younghoon gives no indication of having read the first letter, nor does he look at you when you place it on the table in front of him this time. He leaves it sitting there as he continues eating, and you leave before you could see what he does with it. But at least he's no longer going out of his way to avoid you now—maybe that was a good sign.

The third letter goes over some of your memories together. You write about how grateful you are that he was willing to tutor you, how sorry you are that that part had been fake. The way you wanted to impress him not to make him fall for you, but rather just to see him smile and hear him laugh. The way literature no longer became another boring page for you to read, but rather came to life around you with each word that came out of his mouth.

The fourth letter is conversational. You ask him about his life: what he likes to do for fun, how he spends his spare time. What he's hoping to do after graduation, what he wants to do with his life. What inspires him each day. What made him fall in love with the words across pages. You ask him what love means to him.

When you go to deliver this one to him, what you don't expect is for him to look up at you.

"I wrote you one back," Younghoon holds out the envelope just before you could turn to leave. He quickly goes back to his notes after you take it, but the simple gesture makes your heart quicken tenfold.

"Oh," you manage to get out. "Okay."

Chanhee isn't home when you ultimately decide to open the letter that night. Perhaps it might be better with some moral support around, but you couldn't bear to let him see your tears if the contents are saddening.

Dearest Y/N,

Thank you for your letters. Thank you for being truthful. I appreciate it, truly.

I'll start by saying that I don't hate you. I'm not sure if I forgive you yet, though I'll save that for another time. Ever since meeting you, my life has become a rollercoaster. You've made me so incredibly happy, Y/N. I loved the time that we've spent together and cherished every moment of it. You've taught me to feel an incredible range of emotions that I would've never imagined possible, and you've taught me that it's okay to experience different things and to live life fully without holding back. That being said, I've also felt the lowest of lows when the truth was revealed. It hurt, Y/N. It hurt to know that I wasn't wanted, but it hurt more knowing that someone as lovely as you would do such a cruel thing.

But as much as I wanted to hate you for what you've done, I know that we are not perfect. I know that people make mistakes and that oftentimes, things don't happen the way we intend them to. Maybe you had not intended to love me, but I had also not intended on falling in love with you. Maybe that makes us even.

Thank you for giving me some time and space. I think I'm ready to talk now.

Love always,

Younghoon

***

"Hi."

When he sits down on the bench beside you, all of the words you'd wanted to say suddenly leave your mind. You'd wanted nothing more than to pull him in and bury yourself in him, to make sure that he's real. That everything the two of you had was tangible. But now there's a tentative silence lingering in the air. It's filled with the chirping of birds in the background and the distant shouts of kids at the playground on the other side of the park, and the warmth of the sun on your face; even if nothing goes well then at least there was something good from today.

"I've missed you, Y/N," Younghoon says softly. An admission that takes you by surprise. "And I'm sorry for what I said to you that time... about. Not falling for you." He gives you a wry smile. "I think you already know by now, but it wasn't true."

"Yeah, but it's okay. I deserved it."

He shakes his head. "You don't need to be so hard on yourself. You're not a bad person, Y/N. Maybe it took some time for you to find yourself again, but you're still you."

Then he goes on to respond to everything you'd written in your letters: he laughs at your memory of dropping your scoop of ice cream with the first lick, and glances at you with worry at the part where you'd fallen out of a tree house in your backyard. A jokingly judgmental face when he questions your taste in books, and a restaurant suggestion when he gets to your favourite foods.

Younghoon doesn't mention the business, however, and it makes you realize that he doesn't need to. Because it's not something that's essential to who you are as a person and shouldn't be a part of your identity. The way his eyes light up when talking about the other parts of your life is enough to reassure you of that.

He answers all the questions you'd asked him too. He tells you about being in a city far from home, drowning himself in studies and hiding himself between the pages of books. Losing inspiration and then finding it again in people and in the beauty of the simple things in everyday life. Feeling lost in life and then realizing that maybe he's exactly where he's meant to be.

Younghoon hesitates when he gets to your last question. What love means to him.

"Honestly, aren't we all trying to figure that out?" he says thoughtfully. "I don't think it can be defined in just one way; it's something that we learn a little more about each day. The stories we live to tell and the events that shape our lives—they may teach us to love the world a little more, and by extension, each other. So in a way, love can be anything you want it to be."

You nod slowly, letting the words sink in. Feeling a wave of admiration wash over you again at the reminder of what made you fall for him in the first place.

His voice is barely audible when he asks, "What do you want it to be, Y/N?"

"I—"

This was something you hadn't thought about in a long time. With all of your recent relationships being fake, you'd not only lost your sense of self but also your definition of love. Your mind blanks and it doesn't help that each moment in the lingering silence sends your stomach into a frenzy of butterflies and makes your heart jump out of your chest. But when you see how he gazes at you so patiently, so lovingly, the answer becomes quite clear to you.

"I want it to be with you." You pause, trying to organize your words. They're cheesy and might've been something that would've made you cringe before, but now they feel right. "Dancing in the kitchen with you at midnight, as I ignore my roommate's texts. Having your face be the first thing I see when I wake up, and the last thing I see before I fall asleep. And well, coming home to you would be a much better sight that having Chanhee glare at me from across the living room."

Younghoon bursts out laughing. "Why am I getting the feeling that you hate him more than you like me?"

And then you join him, laughing freely until your stomach is hurting.

"But Younghoon, I don't just like you. There may be a million people out there and maybe we could've simply been nothing to each other. But it's the time that we spent together that has made you so special to me. And maybe there are millions of roses in the world, but you're my only one, unique rose."

You no longer have to fake your nervousness when it's now real. The heat on your cheeks and the loud thuds of your heart are enough to prove that this was never just a fake relationship—it was never fake when he means so much to you that you want to scream it from the rooftops until he finally knows.

When you see the way Younghoon presses his lips together as if holding back the grin that threatens to break on his face, you take it as a good sign. So you do tell him.

"And I want to be responsible for your heart, if you would let me."

This time, he gives in to the smile on his lips and his whole face lights up. "Y/N, you don't have to ask when it was already yours to begin with. Just take care of it, okay?"

"I will. I promise."

And despite the way you already have his heart, you can still see him continue to give you more of it. He gives you a tiny piece when he pulls you closer, and another when he wraps you in his arms like he can't stand another minute of being apart. The angle is awkward, your knees bump, and you have to twist your neck a little, but everything fades into the background once you meet his warm lips halfway.

He tastes sweeter than you remembered; the faint sweetness that had lingered on your tongue and then in your mind for much longer. And he gives in to you easily. He gives you the little fragments of a heart that you'd broken, piece by piece until they stitch themselves together and become whole again.

A high-pitched scream sounds in the distance, making you pull apart immediately. When you turn to look, there's a little girl running across the field in front of you followed by her group of friends.

"Ew, cooties!" she screams, laughing as she runs.

"Um. Let's take this elsewhere, yeah?" Younghoon says with a laugh. "Don't want to be scarring the kids for life."

You can't help the grin that creeps onto your face. "Good idea," you nod, "lead the way."

When you go to text Chanhee about not going home tonight, there's no longer any dread or fear since your update is no longer for some sort of mission. This time when you text him, you thank him for the idea of the love letters and let him know just how in love you are. He sends the vomit emoji back, but even that puts a smile on your face when your heart was blooming with warmth.

#younghoon fic #deobiwritersnet #the boyz fic #younghoon fluff #younghoon x reader #tbz fic #younghoon imagines #younghoon scenarios #younghoon x you #tbz x reader #the boyz imagines #the boyz scenarios #my fic #ugh i'm in love with this fic #may have gotten heart flutters the whole time writing it #if no one reads this i'm keeping this younghoon forever!!!!#what i wouldn't give to romance him 🥺#kinda wanna reread the little prince now #but in french or in english?

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titan-fodder · 3 years ago

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Prima Vista Part IX

[ previous ]

Rating: E (explicit; mdni) Pairing: Mike Zacharias x fem!reader wc: ~ 14.3k

Warnings: timeskip, mutual pining, author doesn’t know shit about science subject matter, explicit sexual content, ass play, snowballing, tooth rotting fluff A/N: This is it, y’all. This last part was so much fun to write, I can’t even put it into words. The feedback on this has been incredible, so a big thank you for that, and before anyone asks, I have a handful of spinoff oneshots planned for this series. Enjoy~

- NINE YEARS -

“Hey, don’t forget about the meeting at three.”

Mike glances up from his computer to find Henning leaning through his office doorway. It’s the first time Mike has looked away from the screen in at least an hour, and he blinks at his colleague several times in an attempt to get rid of the gritty feeling in his eyes.

“Yeah, thanks,” he nods, rubbing a hand down his face. “Definitely would’ve forgotten about that one.”

Henning leaves with one rap of his knuckles against the doorframe, and Mike checks his phone to see how much time he has before he has to make his way to the conference room. It’s twenty after two, so he spends a little while longer reading over the journal that had been sent to him, only tearing himself away when his alarm goes off at 2:55.

He waves at a few people as he passes, shows the reserved smile he’d mastered upon entering the corporate world, then walks into the large meeting space and sets his little notepad on the mahogany table as he sits down in a plush rolling chair.

This meeting has been planned for a few weeks now, a team of researchers contracted by the government to study Lake Sina and everything wrong with it. Its water quality is at an all time low, and it's up to Mike and his team to figure out a way to change that so it can be purified enough to distribute to the public. There are a few large cities close to the lake, all of lower income and all struggling with their water systems. If Sina can get clean enough, it would solve a huge crisis that most people don't even know is taking place.

Tomas, Henning, Lynne, and Nanaba are already in the room, and after a few minutes, another group of four walks in, all unfamiliar except…

Mike’s eyebrows knit together as he stares. He can only see a profile from where he’s sitting, but it’s one he recognizes. The time he spent admiring it, mentally sketching every feature—of course he’d recognize it. Recognize you.

There is a pounding in his chest that Mike hasn’t felt in years, and his palms are suddenly damp. The collar of his shirt is too tight around his throat, and he reaches up to undo the top two buttons so that he can fucking breathe, but Jesus Christ, he can’t believe it. It feels like a lifetime has passed since he last saw you.

He wonders if you’ll have the same reaction when you finally notice him, if you’ll gawk at him or grin or run away. He wouldn’t blame you if you tucked tail. That last conversation—if it could even be called that—is not one of Mike’s fondest memories, and he can’t imagine the toll it took on you, what you must have felt going into your final year of undergrad.

“Is there a remote for the projector?” You call out to the table, and your voice sounds exactly the fucking same. It makes Mike want to slam his head into the wood, but before he can, you zero in on him.

He watches as your eyes grow, jaw setting, shoulders rising with a deep breath, and oh, you’re panicking. You’re panicking just like he is.

“Um,” you cough and shake your head, then lean over to speak to one of your people before basically jogging from the room.

No one seems to think anything of it. Mike has to white-knuckle the arms of his chair to keep himself from getting up and following. There's no reason he should follow, though. The two of you haven’t spoken in almost a decade. He has nothing to share with you, no reason to talk to you on a non-professional level. You don’t know each other anymore, and that’s fine. It’ll be fine.

A mousy looking man starts passing out little binders to everyone at the table, then introduces himself as Moblit and the other two in the room as Hange and Abel.

"And, the other girl you saw is—"

"I'm back, I'm here," you announce as you step into the room, closing the door behind you and introducing yourself with a wave. "Did we get the projector working?"

"Yes," Abel answers, passing you the remote that Nanaba had procured a few minutes ago.

Hange plugs a cable into a laptop and the white screen is lit up with the image of the well known lake, once beautiful, deep blue but now a murky brown.

Mike has been preparing for this project for a few months now, going to an off-site lab to look over the samples being sent in or dropped off. He knew there was a research team studying the lake, but… what are the odds that you would be part of that team?

He supposes your jobs could overlap just like your classes used to, but you had told him you wanted to go into natural hazards ("You're a natural hazard," he had replied with a snort). Of course, that had been a long time ago, but how had that dream morphed into hydrology?

Before the presentation starts, Mike's boss, Keith Shadis slips through the door and takes his seat at the end of the table. You're quick to grab one of the binders and walk it over to him, flashing a smile and never letting your gaze flit to Mike.

Hange does most of the talking, going over all of your findings while all of you "braved the wilderness". Moblit and Abel insert a few things here and there, and then Hange clicks to a slide with a graph on it and hands the remote to you.

"If you turn to page seventeen in the binders, you can probably get a better look, but this shows how much the level of pollution in Lake Sina has risen in the last year alone. We took samples over…"

You keep talking, but Mike loses his focus, watching your hands move as you speak, the way you're rocking back on your heels, and how you look anywhere but at him.

Even though there's a tiny tremble in your voice, you sound passionate, and why wouldn't you be? Mike is passionate too. About the same god damn thing.

With a PhD in environmental science, his specialty is pollutants. It's something he's been interested in since grad school because the earth is beautiful but in an awful state, and Mike wants to fucking change that. He's written journals and articles, worked with leading experts, and it's what he's decided to dedicate himself to, so why is it that this life that he's built for himself is suddenly intermingling with yours? How—

A hand comes to rest on Mike's and he startles at the touch, jerking his head upward to see Lynne with raised eyebrows.

"Mike, I get why you're lost in the pollution sauce, but if you click that pen one more time, I will throw you out of this high-rise."

He stares at her for a second before chuckling and tossing his pen onto his blank notebook. He hadn't even realized he'd been doing it. It's a little embarrassing, actually. How many people noticed? Did you?

The presentation ends with Hange telling everyone that they're happy to be teaming up with the Corporation to work toward a solution and a plan to clean Lake Sina and possibly implement it into larger bodies of water.

The planning stage of the project will more than likely last for a few months, meaning you'll all be regulars in the office which Mike isn't especially thrilled about, even if you will be sequestered in a little annex and spending a lot of your time in the lab. Mike will still have to see you and work with your team, god, probably have to talk to you.

The floor opens up for any questions, but Shadis is the only one who speaks, wanting clarification on some statistic that Mike is going to have to read over later. Once the boss is happy, he stands, then walks behind Mike's chair to slap him on the back and say the last thing Mike wants to hear.

"This is Dr. Mike Zacharias. All of you should get familiar with him since he'll be heading this project."

Mike sits up a little straighter and forces a tight-lipped smile that all of his colleagues know is fake.

"Happy to be working with you."

It isn't a lie. He's been excited about this project for a long time now. He just wasn't expecting such a massive wrench to get thrown right into the middle of it.

The four of you start packing up your materials. When Henning tries to hand you his binder, you tell him, "No, those are for you to keep. Just to get a real grasp on what we found out there."

Mike knows he's staring, swiveling back and forth in his chair, twirling the pen he's picked up again, and he wonders if it would just be easier to rip the bandaid off. Exchange hellos, go over the bare minimum—how long he's been with the company, how long you've been researching. Just enough to appear casual, like you didn't break Mike's fucking heart in college.

And, then he thinks about just avoiding you altogether. There's always the chance your issues could come up in conversation, and it's so far in the past now, there's nothing either of you can say to make the other feel better. This can't be about closure. It's just a job. That's all.

"Wow, everyone really… cleared outta here."

Mike's vision unfogs, and he glances around to find that yes, you're the only two left in the conference room. Fantastic.

You're wrapping a cord around your elbow then shoving it in a laptop bag, and he can tell you're moving as fast as you can, ready to get the fuck out of there.

"Uh, yeah," Mike agrees, pushing himself to his feet and grabbing his notebook to curl in his hands. "Everyone's just ready to get back to work, I guess."

"Yeah. You can only hold someone's attention with a PowerPoint for so long."

Mike's mouth is too dry, and it feels like he needs to cough, but he doesn't want to startle you, so he just quietly clears his throat in an entirely ineffective way and tells you, "Good PowerPoint, though."

You snicker, not loud enough to hear your real laugh, and Mike doesn't know if he's grateful for that or not.

"Thanks. Mobs made it."

Slinging the bag over your shoulder, you finally look up at Mike—really look at him for the first time—and he sees your expression go soft, mouth twitching like you’re caught between smiling and frowning, and Mike is taken back to the first night he met you when he wanted you to shotgun that disgusting beer.

You blink at him, open and close your mouth, and Mike is waiting with baited breath for you to say something else, but all you do is hold your hand out for him to take the projector remote from you.

"Here."

He grabs it with two fingers, careful not to brush your hand. Fuck, he wishes his heart would stop beating so hard, it's incredibly uncomfortable.

"I feel like I should say something," you murmur, "But I have no idea what, so I'm just gonna tell you I look forward to working with you, Dr. Zacharias."

He grins. Widely. He doesn't mean to, but he does. It's been so damn long since anyone has said his last name like that.

"Do you, though?" He asks.

"Do I what?"

"Look forward to working here."

"Oh, uh…" You bite your lip, start rocking on your feet again, then shrug. "I guess? I mean… Big project."

"Very big."

"It's important to me. I can't say that I was expecting—"

"Me?" Mike offers with a tilt of his head.

He's standing too close. It feels like he is, anyway, so he moves back to lean against the conference table.

"Yeah, pretty much," you laugh. "It's been a while."

Mike wonders if you remember that night as well as he does. No matter how much he's tried to forget it, that image of you with fat years rolling down your face just will not leave him. Do you remember how it felt? Can you remember everything he said to you?

Before Mike can respond, you wave a hand. "Anyway, I need to go help set up our little area, so…"

"Yeah, for sure. I'll be around."

After powering through the last hour of his day, Mike bolts from the building. He needs to get home. He needs to get a drink in his hand. He needs to unwind and not think of you.

He needs to fucking call Erwin.

"Hey, bro, what's up?"

"Dude," is all Mike says at first.

"What?"

"You will never fucking guess who's on the team we’re working with on the Sina water project."

Erwin hums in a sing-song sort of way, then chuckles. "Funny, I got a similar call about an hour ago."

"You guys still talk?" Mike asks a little too loudly.

"Yeah, man. Not every day or anything, but—"

Mike rolls his eyes. "You're unbelievable." He isn't mad, and Erwin knows this. He's just a little surprised. His friend hasn’t as much as uttered your name in the last ten years.

"Yeah, whatever. How'd it go from your perspective?"

"It—Wait, what did she say?"

"Oh, no no no," Erwin laughs. Mike here's a distant, "Hold that, please!" and figures he's making his way to the elevator to leave work as well. "I am not getting caught up in your bullshit again."

Pouting, Mike finally turns on his car and pulls out of the parking lot. "Fine. It went… Well? I think? I mean, super awkward, but that isn't surprising."

"No name-calling or confessions of undying love?"

"No, I'm not twenty-two anymore."

"Could have fooled me," Erwin snorts.

"Fuck off. It was a good presentation, but she was nervous, and I couldn't tell if it was from having to speak in front of people or if it was 'cause I was there, and then we talked afterward—nothing important or anything, just, like, an acknowledgement. You know, you're here, I'm here, we have to find a way to co-exist, except neither of us actually said that," Mike has to take a deep breath. He's rambling, he knows, and Erwin is just listening, probably storing it all away to make fun of him about it later. "It was okay. It could've been worse."

"Could have been better too."

"What? How—"

"Could have bent her over the desk and—"

"Dude!"

Erwin breaks into that deep laugh Mike is so used to, tells him, "I'm just saying! I know she's still cute. We have each other on Facebook."

He's right. Too right. You are absolutely still cute, all dressed up in business casual attire, so different from the leggings and hoodies you used to wear. Your face has matured slightly—naturally—and your hair is different but still suits you. Mike has no idea how he's supposed to work with you for the next few months.

"I can't deal with you," Mike grumbles. "Why did I even call you?"

"Probably because I'm the only one who has an inkling about what you're going through right now," Erwin replies. "Aside from her anyway."

"Yeah, yeah."

They chat for a little while longer until Erwin gets to the bar he's apparently meeting some coworkers at, and Mike spends the rest of his drive listening to music too loud as he tries and fails to clear his mind of you.

You're pacing. You have been for the last hour. The food you made for yourself went cold some time ago, but you're too busy whining into your phone to notice.

"Just—like—what the fuck am I supposed to do? How am I supposed to work with him like this? He's overseeing the whole fucking project! I can't just avoid him!"

"Okay, first thing's first," Hitch stops you. "I need you to take a deep breath for me."

"Hitch—"

"Breathe!"

You inhale through your nose then blow out through your mouth, but that's obviously not good enough for Hitch because she demands, "And, again."

"What are you, my therapist?"

"I mean, I usually act like one, so… anyway, while you're calming the fuck down, I'm gonna call for backup. Hold please."

Dropping yourself onto the hotel couch, you try to relax even though you know it'll be impossible because—

"You're working with Mike?" Rhi's shrill voice meets your ear, and you have to pull the phone away.

"Rhi, you're supposed to help me calm her down, not add to her panic," Hitch reminds her.

"Yeah, no, that's not gonna happen," Rhi tells her, and you laugh to yourself.

"Agreed."

"Okay, so tell me what happened. Oh my god, did you cry? Did he cry? What'd Erwin say when you told him? You told him, right?"

You've gotten used to Rhi's rapid fire inquiries a long time ago, so you have no problem answering, "We walked in for the big Sina presentation today, and he was just there, and I was freaking out, so Hange had to do most of the work but still made me go over my findings 'cause I understand them better than they do, but anyway. I don't think he was paying attention at fucking all which is cool 'cause I wouldn't have been either, and then we talked for a second afterward, but there were no tears. There was almost vomit 'cause I felt like I needed to throw up, but I kept it together. I think."

"Okay, and Erwin? What'd he say?"

You snicker to yourself. "He made fun of me for a little while and then he told me to talk to Mike once I calmed down just to catch up and then to—this is verbatim, by the way—to possibly have dirty sex in Mike's office."

Both of your friends howl, Hitch being the first to gather herself enough to giggle, "He fucking would say that, oh my god, I hate him."

"Same," Rhi drawls. "Okay, but is there the possibility of dirty office sex?"

"Wha—That's what you're taking away from all that?" You splutter.

"Uh, yeah."

"I'm kinda curious too," Hitch pipes up.

You wave your free hand around in confusion and tell them, "I—we—no! We don't even know each other anymore. We said, like, four words to each other today, and it was fucking weird, so no. Pervs."

"Do you want to, though? Has he aged well?" Hitch asks in a low, sultry voice.

You click your tongue and pause, not wanting the first thought that pops into your head to be what comes out of your mouth because yes, holy shit, yes, Mike looks so fucking good. It was one of many reasons you were so tongue-tied in front of him.

He's still impossibly tall and broad, but in slacks and a button up. The beard he’s always had is short and rugged and a tad darker than the hair on top of his head that he's let grow out long enough to tie in a bun, and it fits him too well. You thought you were gonna start drooling on his fancy shoes.

"He's alright," you play. They see right through you, falling into another long fit of laughter until you admit, "Okay, okay, he's still stupid hot, alright?"

"God bless. I'm so happy to hear that. I'm so happy for you."

"Why would you—"

"Just promise you'll invite us to the wedding."

"I think you guys are getting a little ahead of yourselves."

"Oh my god, we have to call Marie."

"And, Maddie."

You shake your head as the other two start going back and forth, talking about you like you're not even there, bringing up college memories, old parties you'd all gone to.

"Hey, remember when you hated me?" Rhi questions, and both of you snort.

"And, you hated me right back. Stole your man or whatever."

Hitch mutters a quiet, "Ew, fuck that guy."

And, Rhi picks up, "Yeah, fuck that all-American, record-breaking pitcher."

The three of you talk well into the evening, eventually switching to Zoom so that you can all see each other and add Maddie and Marie into the call. You and Hitch break open bottles of wine, but Rhi and Maddie don't drink, "Solidarity with this pregnant bitch," Maddie says, and Marie lifts her glass of water to cheers via internet.

Sophomore and junior year of college, you never would have expected to get close to anyone other than Hitch, but through a few shared classes and petty curiosity, all of you ended up seeking solace in one another and came out on the other side as best friends. Hitch was even Maid of Honor in Marie and Nile's wedding. Against all odds, everything turned out pretty wholesome.

"I genuinely hope it works out," Hitch says now, words long, lazy, and starting to slur together "Like, even if it's just you and Mike making up and being, like, cool with each other again."

"Hitch, you're drunk, please go to bed."

"I am drunk. But, I still mean what I said. I miss when you guys were just best friends."

"Why?" You question with a head shake.

Hitch sighs, "'Cause you were so happy."

"No, I—"

"I mean, you were still all… weird and guarded, but that dude made you laugh and smile so much."

"I daresay I even saw you giddy on a couple of occasions," Marie hums.

"Whatever. I just want it to be… not awkward."

"Then, talk."

"Mm, pass."

A light knock on the wall of the impressively large cubicle gets your whole team's attention, all of you glancing up to find Mike standing in the little entryway, hands in his pockets.

"Hey, just checkin' in. Have you all gotten settled?"

"Yes!" Hange is up on their feet. "Great accommodations, and that lab you guys use?" They moan, and you can tell Mike is trying not to laugh because his mouth is twisting to one side like it always does when he tries to appear unaffected by something. However, you know well that it is very hard to remain unaffected by Hange Zoe.

"Yeah, we haven't had a lab that shiny in a long time," Moblit chuckles.

"Don't you work in government buildings?" Mike frowns.

"You ever seen the inside of a post office?" You question, immediately regretting it when those light green eyes land on you.

"Uh, yeah?"

Smirking through the butterflies, you tell him, "Those are government buildings too."

"Don't mind her. She's just being a smartass," Abel says.

Mike is really fighting that smile now. Even pinched to one side, you can see the way his lips are trying to curve upward, and you have to bite yours and look at the floor before you start acting like a god damn school girl.

It's nearing the end of the first week at your new location. It hasn't been terrible, and some of the strangeness is beginning to wear off, but it's still jarring to see Mike walk around or hear his voice carrying through his office door.

Neither of you have gone out of your way to talk to one another. Anything project related, Hange handles for the most part, and if anything is delegated to you, you try to pass it off to Abel because you're just not ready to be alone in a room with Mike. Your brain and your heart can't take it yet.

You can't deny that you're curious, though. You wonder what his life is like now, what his job is like outside of what you've seen (which, admittedly, is not much), what he does in his free time now, who he spends his time with. You couldn't help but notice (you made a point of looking) that there isn't any type of ring on his finger which is pretty fucking surprising since, well, Mike has always been a catch. How has someone not come around and swiped him off the market? Or, does he just not wear a wedding band at work? Or, does he just have a girlfriend and is waiting to take the next step? So many questions you have no business asking.

Mike hums, rubs at something probably nonexistent on the carpet with the toe of his shoe, and mumbles a little, "Nothin’ I haven't dealt with before," that makes everyone look at him curiously. "With co-workers, you know. Lotta sass in the office."

You stifle a laugh and stand up. There are a lot of sassy things you could say, but you figure none of them are actually appropriate, especially since Mike is technically your boss now—why is that so hot?—so you just slip out of the cubicle, doing your best to not brush up against Mike. He apparently doesn't care, though, because while he moves to the side, he does the thing that all men do, placing a hand on the small of your back as if to guide you past him, and it makes you burn.

"'scuse me," you squeak, relieved to be able to run to the restroom where you can sit in a stall and scream to Hitch through texts.

You are dying—mostly because you don't know what you want. Do you want to be friends? Do you want to seduce him? Do you want another nine years away from him? You have no idea.

You were sad for a long time after that holiday break. You trudged through your spring courses, took more classes in the Summer, then started all over. Hitch had to physically drag you out of your tiny apartment a few times but never to any parties, thank god. Just to lunch or the library, and eventually, Rhi, Marie, and Maddie came into the picture. Further into the picture, anyway.

While they got you laughing again, though, that ache didn't ever fade. Mike's words replayed in your head in a constant loop, day and night for months. I can’t do this anymore. Start fresh. Shouldn’t be hard for you. You were mad at yourself for a long time, for ruining everything and hurting him. If you could have gone back to the start of it all and done things differently, you would have, but you just had to sit with all your mistakes instead.

Then, your anger shifted toward him. Because you weren't the only one who messed up. You may have been the first one to, but he did some shitty things too. He's the one who didn't care even after finding out it was Zeke who blocked his number. He's the one who refused to believe that you and Erwin weren't actually a couple. He's the one who brought Rhi to the ranch house with the specific intention of hurting your feelings (and to wet his dick).

And, he's the one who didn't want to work things out.

You understand his frustration. You broke his heart, after all. But then, he turned around and broke yours too.

It was nine years ago, and you've moved on. You've dated people since then. You've fallen in and out of love. Mike wasn't even on your radar until Monday, but now… Now, there's no forgetting him. Old wounds get jabbed every time he peeks around the corner, any time you hear him laugh or see him smile, and when he actually looks at you, fuck, it's like someone is ripping stitches out of your skin.

It is not a productive work environment.

Your team hasn't noticed much other than Moblit asking what has you so tense these days, but no one has made any connections, and you'd like to keep it that way. Hange would have a fucking field day if they found out.

There are many meetings to toss around ideas, plans and blueprints that get scrapped. You stumble through presentations, trying not to look directly at anyone as your cheeks heat up and your hands shake.

"You've never been nervous about stuff like this," Abel tells you in the conference room one day as everyone else files out. "What's up with you?"

"Nothing," you shake your head. "Don't worry about it."

"Nothing my ass," he grumbles, walking out without you.

"You really should try to relax," Mike tells you from where he's still sitting at the table. "No idea why you're so nervous."

Everyone else is gone which means you're free to squint at him, scathing retort on the tip of your tongue, but when you see that he's smirking at you, the words dry up.

"Don't play dumb, Zacharias."

"I'm not playing anything," he tells you. "But, I do need to know how long we're gonna keep up this I don't know you-you don't know me thing."

"You literally just said—..." Taking a deep breath, you look over your shoulder to, one, form a coherent sentence in your brain, and two, make sure no one is close enough to hear it when you say, "What would you prefer we do? Not like we can just pick up where we left off. Unless, you know, you wanna go back to being incredibly fucking pissed at me for months on end."

"Man, you really are tense about this," Mike chuckles, and you're torn between slapping him and jumping his bones, so you do neither. Fuck, why'd he have to wear the purple tie today? It looks so good with his complexion and complements his eyes. A few strands of hair have come loose from the bun at the back of his head, and he shakes them out of his face like he used to shake his shaggy bangs, and all you can do is stare and squirm and tell him, "I have to go."

"Go where?" He asks, standing from his chair. It feels like he towers over you even from across the table.

You hold your hands out and gesticulate a little frantically, "I don't know—work? Maybe?"

He's extremely amused, even laughs as you make your way out the door, then calls, "Whenever you're ready to talk, just let me know! You know where my office is."

"I don't wanna talk!"

You really don't. But, you also really do.

Mike starts having fun with his new department (you specifically) around the third week.

He's never seen you like this before, having to mentally prepare yourself before you walk into any room, like you have to be ready for him. You nibble on your lip and rock on your heels. Your hands shake in meetings when you have to point to pictures or graphs.

It’s just so unlike you. He got so used to the surly, uncaring girl in college, never happy to see Mike until you gave him a fair chance (and decided you enjoyed his cock). He expects everything to come out of your mouth to be sarcastic or suggestive, and when it's not, it takes him off guard.

Mike is nervous around you too. He can easily admit that. But, his neverending panic really just manifests in the form of nausea and heart palpitations which he thinks is better than trembling and stuttering, but it's still mildly distracting.

Every once in a while, he catches a glimpse of that old side of you, though, a mumbled smartass remark or an unimpressed expression, and he has to make a conscious effort to not grin like an idiot because he's still trying to decipher his actual feelings.

Is he supposed to act like nothing ever happened, or should he hold a grudge? What seems more natural? What feels more natural?

Mike knows the answer to that last question, but he hasn't fully accepted it.

"It's kinda cute, actually. Like, I walk into the room and she gets this little doe-eyed expression. Looks like she's about to run away."

"You're kind of a sadist, you know that?" Erwin says.

"I mean, is it so wrong to get a little satisfaction outta this?"

"I think so, yeah. You're driving her crazy, dude."

Mike smacks his lips and rolls his eyes. "Man, how would you know—"

"'Cause she told me!" Erwin basically shouts like it's obvious. "The words came out of her mouth. Mike is driving me crazy. Just like that."

Pouting, Mike takes another sip of his beer and lets his eyes travel to the bottom of the TV screen to check the score of the game he isn't watching.

"Well, it's not like I can really do anything about it. She'll only be here for a few months."

"Do you happen to know how long it takes for a stomach ulcer to form?" Erwin asks.

Mike frowns. "Uh, no?"

"Well, neither do I, but I'm pretty sure it's not very long."

Both of them laugh. Mike mutters something about Erwin being fucking stupid, and then Erwin sighs and speaks, "I am begging you, dude. Please just get a fucking drink with her or something."

"We don't mix well with alcohol," Mike snarks.

"What's the worst that could happen—you end up in bed again?"

"Well—"

"Honestly, both of you could probably benefit from a good fuck, but what do I know? I'm just the guy both of you call for this shit."

"Alright, I get it. I'll… see if she's up for something," Mike mumbles.

"I mean, I wouldn't open with sex, maybe start off with lunch or…"

"I'm hanging up now."

Mike doesn't actually know how to ask you, though. You're so fucking skittish around him, and you're obviously worried about people finding out you have a history, so he's gonna have to be strategic about it, maybe plant the seed a few days before or—

"Hey, listen…" You appear in Mike's office doorway, long cardigan falling to your knees and swishing behind you even after you've stopped moving. "I know it's almost five, but I'm, like, right in the middle of mapping out a new plan, and I don't wanna lose steam, so is it cool if I stay late?"

"Yeah, I don't care," Mike answers, tacking on, "S'long as you're okay with being here late with me."

"Oh, th-that's—" you splutter for a little while, and Mike raises his eyebrows. "That's n-not necessary. You don't have to, like, supervise me or anything."

"I'm not supervising you," Mike snorts. "I'm trying to finish my piece for a journal."

"Ah, right, that's… yes." You shoot off a half-hearted finger gun, and Mike wants to hop his desk to get to you. There you are. There are your dumb fucking mannerisms, please, just act like yourself, for the love of god.

"Okay, well if you need me, uh, I will probably be on the floor in the annex, so…"

"We do have chairs, ya' know," Mike smirks.

"Yeah, but it's easier to just spread everything out so I can see it."

"Want a corkboard? You can make it look like you're doing a murder investigation."

"Hmm, might make it look more official," you muse, making a face of contemplation.

Before you can actually say yes, Mike pipes up again. "I don't actually have a corkboard. It was a joke."

"Yeah, I know," you snicker. "Wouldn't be big enough anyway."

Too many responses flood Mike's brain at once, causing him to bite his tongue because every last one of them is gross, but you must be able to read it on his face because you point and tell him, "Stop."

"I didn't say anything!" He laughs.

"You don't have to. I know."

Mike rolls his eyes, "Okay," and looks back to his computer, hoping the screen is high enough to hide his grin as you turn and walk away.

The next hour is spent editing the same paragraph over and over with no real motivation because everyone has vacated the floor except for you and Mike, and this could be a good time to talk to you, but he also doesn't want to disrupt your work. Just because he can't focus doesn't mean you can't. You'd only get upset if he distracted you from your work anyway—it's happened before—redirecting your attention from a textbook or study guide to… other things.

He goes down a rabbit hole, reminiscing on those occasions, then tweaking them just a little to fit into the current setting, and it's the absolute last thing Mike should be thinking about, but it's Friday, and you're slightly more casual in your flowy cardigan and tight jeans, and all he wants is to get one teeny tiny look at your ass in them because he knows your it’s perfect. He's seen it in leggings and cheeky little boy shorts and lacy thongs, and there is absolutely no way he can go out to talk to you now.

Also, he really needs to write at least one paragraph before leaving tonight. It's all about water and waste and pollutants which is the shit Mike knows like the back of his hand. He'd just rather have said hands on something else.

"Yeah, this isn't gonna happen," he mutters to himself, taking his hair down to scratch at his scalp. He's better off just going home.

Mike packs a few things up before stepping out of his office, closing and locking the door behind him. Half the lights are off, but the portion over the annex is shining brightly. Mike stares in that direction as he debates telling you he's leaving or bolting without saying anything.

It's the thought of you walking out to your car alone that makes his mind up, and Mike saunters to the annex and finds you on hands knees surrounded by several sketches, crumpled notes, and the set of blueprints that Mike is pretty sure got thrown in the recycling on Tuesday.

"Where'd you even find those?"

You don't look up when you answer, "Recycling comes every Monday."

"So, you went… dumpster diving?"

Lifting your head, you squint up at Mike, tracking him as he squats on the other side of your organized chaos.

"Is it dumpster diving if it's all paper?"

Mike shrugs. "Dunno. How's it comin'?"

"I'm comi—It!" You correct a little too loudly. "It's coming! It's coming along just fine."

"Yeah?" Mike chuckles. "Cute Freudian slip there."

"It was not—" You grit your teeth, fingers curling on the papers they're resting on, then question, "Did you need something?"

"Just came by to say I was leaving," Mike tells you. Something catches his eye, though, some of your notes scribbled just big enough for him to read a few of the words from where he is, and he grabs the sheet to look it over more carefully.

Irrigation plans, specialized pumps, introducing new life into the lake, specifically filter fish…

"I was just vomiting ideas out on paper, it's nothing important."

Mike hums and reads further. Some of it is familiar because Mike has considered some of these himself, but while your engineering thoughts are a little vague, the ideas that lean more toward the biological side of things are pretty interesting, even if they're just sloppy bullet points and arrows.

"You wanna vomit on a person instead?" He asks, chuckling at the look you give him.

"Ew."

"Just spitball. Throw it at me."

"Oh, I'm gonna throw somethin' at you all right."

Mike slips his bag from his shoulder and sets it down before sitting on the ground, picking up the papers closest to him.

"Tell me about the xylem tissue method," he prompts.

You don't speak right away, just chew on your lip while staring at the sketches on the ground, but then you nod and sit back on your heels.

"So, we know that white pine trees are a natural means of filtering, but there aren't any around here. I know it's more of a long-term plan, but we can't just go with a temporary fix, so I was thinking—"

Mike listens. To everything. Everything you can think of. He watches too. You rub your hands over your jeans and flick hair from your eyes. You change positions, sitting on one foot while resting your chin on your knee as you think out loud, then move to sit cross-legged only to get up to pace the length of the cubicle, barefoot since your heels were kicked off long ago.

He asks questions or makes suggestions here and there, and soon it isn't just you who's brainstorming.

It's easy. It's what Mike knows, and it's obviously what you know too, and a couple of hours pass before either of you realize it.

"Shit, it's almost ten," you state, looking at your phone. "Sorry, I didn't mean to keep you here so late."

"It's fine. Wouldn't have stayed if I didn't want to."

Mike stretches as he stands, twisting to crack his back and rolling his neck. You gather up all the papers, straightening them into a neat pile then putting them in a drawer at the bottom of your desk.

You walk out together, still chatting in the elevator and out to the parking lot, and Mike feels good. He feels like… He feels like he did in college.

"Please tell me that is not your car," you say, eyeing the boxy, white Mercedes that is, in fact, Mike's.

"What of it?"

"These fucking Jeeps are so ugly, I cannot believe—"

"Uh, it's not a Jeep. It's a g-wagon, thank you."

You roll your eyes. "I liked your Wrangler better."

"I bet you fuckin' did," he mumbles, too lost in the memory of you riding him in said Wrangler to think about how you might take the comment.

"It was easier on the eyes," you explain.

"It was a frat boy car."

"You were a frat boy!"

"And, now I'm a professional."

"Are you, though?" You tease, expression skeptical save for your tiny smirk.

"Most of the time."

The only other vehicle in the lot is a Land Rover, considerably larger than the little hatchback you used to drive but very fitting for someone in your line of work. Mike thinks about mentioning that it's basically the same as his Mercedes, just not as expensive and with rounder edges, but he knows you'll just get indignant and defensive.

He walks you over to your car, and you don't question it, just open the passenger side and throw your bag inside.

This is your chance, Mike realizes. Just ask. Ask her to go somewhere else and talk about something other than work.

"Hey, uh, do you wanna grab a drink or something?" He tries, heartbeat picking up once again. His eyes are a little too wide as you regard him carefully, studying him like one of your samples.

Then, you shake your head.

"No, Mike. I don't wanna grab a drink." His stomach opens up, the heat that comes with embarrassment creeping up his neck.

"Oh, sorry, I just—"

"But, there's a breakfast place close to the extended stay they put us up in. I've been wanting to check it out."

And, like that, his hope is restored. Hope for what, Mike doesn't know, but it's certainly there, blooming in his chest like unkempt wildflowers.

"Yeah?"

You nod. "Yeah. I'm still not really a morning person, but d'you wanna meet there at, like, ten or so?"

"Tomorrow?"

"I mean, if that works for you."

"Yeah!" Mike clears his throat, lowers his voice so that he sounds a little less excited. "I'm usually up and moving by eight."

"God, why do you hate yourself?" You cringe.

"I've always been an early riser."

"Not from what I remember."

Mike leans against your rover, crossing his arms over his chest. "Well, maybe not when I was kept up into the early morning hours, but usually I was up before everyone else."

You post up across from him, one hand on your hip, and Mike realizes this is gonna go on for some time.

"Kept up? Like you didn't wanna be?"

He's fine with that. He'll stand out here talking with you until the sun comes up if you'll let him. And, maybe after that too.

Breakfast is good. Breakfast is safe. Breakfast is the start of the day and free of alcohol. There is nothing suggestive about breakfast.

Except breakfast has become a habit. For the last three Saturdays you’ve sat at the little cafe next to your hotel talking with Mike for at least an hour. You’re kind of getting to know him again, but most of the conversation consists of stupid jokes or blatant deflections.

His parents are still doing well, both in their sixties now, but Scout, unfortunately passed away a few years ago. Hearing it makes your eyes burn, and watching Mike’s face fall actually makes you wipe at your own rapidly forming tears.

He still keeps in touch with several of his frat brothers—Erwin (obviously), Nile, Gelgar, and some of the younger kids, Jean, Marco, and Connie.

“Yeah, I’m actually pretty close to Marie now,” you tell him. “And, Maddie, and Rhi.”

“Rhi?” He looks incredibly surprised.

“Yeah,” you laugh. “Bonded over the woes of college boys.”

“Didn’t see that coming.”

“Neither did I, honestly.”

Working with him is easier now. The ice has been broken. The boundaries have been set even if they are unspoken. You still do your best not to touch him at all, never stand too close or brush against him in any way, but you’ve loosened up a lot, and your team seems to appreciate it. Unfortunately, they also start to notice the way you light up a little too much whenever you’re around Mike, and naturally, Hange just had to comment on it a few days ago.

“You have a crush on the bossman or somethin’?”

“What? No. We just work well together, I guess.”

You do not tell Mike about this exchange, in fear of him prying. Well, do you have a crush on the bossman? You’re not ready for that, probably never will be.

There are a few breakthroughs in the Sina project. The research team gets extra funding to run more trials, and you start to stay late more often, sometimes in the tower with everyone else and sometimes in the lab. Things are progressing nicely.

Eventually, breakfast turns to lunch, lunch turns to dinner, and then you find yourself in Mike’s apartment, sitting at his kitchen table while he cooks.

“So, we talk every once in a while now, but it’s usually really awkward. Like, I still don’t ever know what to say to him.”

“Do you find it weird that he reached out in the first place?”

“Kind of? When I was younger, I always hoped he would, but now that he has, I almost wish he hadn’t. Does that make sense?”

Mike shrugs as he pours noodles into a strainer over the sink. “I mean, he’s your dad, so yeah, it makes sense. What he did was super shitty, but I figure it’s hard to forget the good times and just abandon all hope.”

“Yeah. On the bright side, he sends my brother money for commissary, like, every week, so that’s nice.”

It took a little while, but you’ve let yourself open up to Mike much easier this time around. Whether it’s because you already know you can trust him or because you’ve gotten the closure you needed for so long, you’re not sure. You just know it’s been easy.

Unfortunately, with vulnerability comes feelings, and you are having a lot of those. Too many. You’re glad that it’s not debilitating dread and nervousness now, but the overwhelming affection isn’t any less distracting.

Watching Mike move around his kitchen, though—clad in a t-shirt, faded jeans, and the dish towel thrown over his shoulder, you are painfully reminded of why you got so attached all those years ago.

It isn’t fair. You really didn’t want to fall back into this hole. You knew it was a possibility as soon as you saw him at that first meeting, but you were trying to put it off until you had to leave.

Because that’s the plan. You come in. You complete the project, get them started on a long-term plan for the lake, then head back to your home facility and wait for another job to be assigned. You can’t just stay here, even if the idea gets a little more tempting every day.

You’re just friends, though, just spending time together because it’s familiar. It’s nice being back on the same page, just letting the past stay there.

“So, it’s been about two months,” Mike starts, and something about his tone makes your stomach drop. “I feel like that’s an appropriate amount of time to wait before finally addressing the elephant in the room.”

So much for letting the past stay there.

Groaning, you rub your hands down your face. “Do we really have to?” Of course he would want to talk about it now that you’re comfortable.

“I really think we do.”

“Mike, that was so long ago. I was a dumb fucking kid. What do you need to know other than that?”

He braces himself on his counter, face serious. “Nothin’ really. I just want you to know that I was a dumb kid too.”

“Yeah, and we’ve grown since then and gotten over it, right?”

He lets out a long sigh. “I had gotten over it, but working with you every day has kinda... brought some things back to the surface.”

Staring at him, you swallow and try to stay calm. You know where he’s coming from, and it’s a little comforting to know that he’s been experiencing at least some of the emotions that you have been, but you don’t know whether or not it’s a good thing.

“I get it. I’ve been struggling too, but there’s nothing we can really do about it.”

You’ve thought about just taking the plunge and sleeping with him again. It would be nice—really fucking nice—but it would only make things worse.

“I guess. It’s been cool to hang out again, but…” Mike chews on his lip for a moment before finishing, “We’ve never been good at just hanging out.”

The reminder makes your skin prickle with heat, and you shift in your chair, reeling in your thoughts before they run wild.

“Yeah. If it would be easier to just not hang out, I’d understand.”

He turns back to the stove to stir something and turn on the vent then twists back around. “That’s not what I’m saying.”

“Then, what are you saying?”

Mike makes a little disgruntled noise, hanging his head like he’s getting frustrated. “I’m saying some days are hard. I tried to keep some distance, but that lasted for about a week, and now you’re here, and even though you’ve changed some, you’re still you, and I’m still me, and… Some days are just hard.”

Some minutes are hard, you think to yourself. You can be going about your day like someone who isn’t completely fucking smitten, and then you see Mike, and he nods or grins and suddenly all you want is to be alone with him and trace over his lips with yours, feel his hands on you, run your fingers through his long hair.

“If I could take those feelings away from you, I would,” you tell him, and it’s apparently the wrong thing to say because he frowns.

“Do you not feel the same way then?”

Your reply is almost instantaneous. “Christ, Mike, of course I feel the same! I was in love with you! I didn’t know how to show it back then, but that’s what it was, so yeah, I feel it too, but there’s no point in—in analyzing it or turning it into something—”

“You were in love?”

“Dude. Yes. It took me a while to realize it—like, way too long—but yeah. Definitely love. Junior and senior year wouldn’t have sucked so much if it was just lust or infatuation or something.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” you wave him off. “I fucked up. You had every right to be pissed.”

“I could’ve handled it better,” he mutters.

You shake your head. “Dumb kids, remember?”

Mike looks genuinely upset, and you don’t know what to say anymore, so you get up from the kitchen table and walk over to him. You have to physically urge him to turn and face you, but once he does, you wrap your arms around his torso and sigh. He immediately locks his wrists behind your back, resting his chin on your head, and it feels familiar and right and a little bit like home. You can smell the fabric softener that clings to his shirt and the fresh scent of his deodorant, different from what he used to wear, but that doesn’t make it bad.

“Can we wait for a while longer before we decide to act like dumb kids again?” You ask.

Mike chuckles above you. “You say that like you’re positive we will.”

You’re just being realistic, and you tell him as much. The chances of you leaving the city without having sex at least once are slim to none. You figure the two of you will break and indulge in one of those ‘just for old time’s sake’ fucks, but if Mike keeps talking to you like this, admitting feelings and what not, you’re gonna lose it much faster than you’d originally planned.

“Yeah.” You feel him nod. “Yeah, we can wait.”

When he kisses the top of your head, you almost give up then and there.

This fucking sucks. Everything sucks. Mike was never one of those people who looked back on college as his glory days, never really had the desire to go back to it, but now he feels like he’s reliving them because he’s back to being twenty-one and obsessed with a girl—being obsessed with you.

It wouldn’t be so bad if he didn’t know that you felt it too, but you admitted it, so now the only thing that’s stopping the two of you from exploring that avenue is, what, fear? Again?

He gets it. He does. You don’t want to fall into something serious only to leave, but it’s possible to navigate relationships like that. Long distance-works. There’s technology for that like phones and video chats and sex toys. Then, there’s always the option of just relocating. It would be drastic, but Mike isn’t against the idea. Arrangements would have to be made, but he could swing it. It’s a little crazy so early on, but...

He’s not gonna push it, not in a blatant way, but he’s gonna try his damndest to make it harder for you to go. He grows bold enough to start touching you more. A hand on the small of your back as you leave a room together, an arm around your shoulders when you watch TV over dinner, tucking hair behind your ear (“God, that used to be Erwin’s, like, go-to move.”). It’s fucked up because he knows your colleagues are asking about it, that he’s subjecting you to their interrogations, but he can’t help himself. He can’t stop.

It definitely has an effect on you. You get flustered every time, can’t look at Mike for a while, and he hopes it’s because you’re thinking about other ways he could touch you—has touched you—f you’d just give him the chance.

He thinks he has the patience to keep it up, wind you up more and more every day until you spin out of control and into his bed. You’re still spending time with him outside of work, still sharing pieces of yourself, and you’re not stopping him from putting his hands on you. so it’s only a matter of time.

It comes to a head in his apartment after dinner. It’s so simple, something Mike didn’t even do on purpose, but as you’re washing your hands, he comes up behind you and reaches past you for a paper towel. He puts a hand on your hip without thinking, and his chest presses against your back, and then you’re exhaling in one quick huff and squirming to turn around.

“Okay.”

“Okay, what?” Mike asks, confused as he takes a step back.

“Okay, I’m ready to act like a dumb kid.”

You don’t even dry your hands, just curl your fingers into his shirt and gaze up at him with dilated pupils, and Mike is elated.

“Oh, thank god, fuck, thank god.”

He leans down, and you stand on your tiptoes, and when you meet in the middle and he feels your lips on his for the first time in almost a decade, he groans.

You pull him closer, tilt your head further back to give him better access, and Mike cradles it in his hands. He tries not to breathe too heavily, pant like a fucking dog, but he’s been waiting for this since he saw you again. Maybe before that. He thinks on some level he’s been waiting for this since he left you alone in the ranch house, a little voice nagging at him to go back, to fix things, and he just never did.

“This is stupid, this is so stupid,” you murmur against him. “Only gonna make things harder.”

“Just stop thinking about it,” Mike replies, nipping at your bottom lip. He doesn’t want you to think about it because he doesn’t want to think about it otherwise he’ll blurt out everything he’s been stewing on for the last couple weeks, the possibility of a real relationship, of you staying or him going, and that's too much.

You both shed clothes on your way to the bedroom, a trail of shirts and pants until you’re naked and laid out for him, and Mike swears he just might cry because you’re so beautiful, just as he remembered with a little more meat on your hips and thighs, a new scar on your calf that he asks about before brushing his lips over it. That leg is already resting on his shoulder, and once he gets situated on his stomach, he throws the other one over himself.

His mouth starts to water as he gazes at your pussy, so fucking pretty, hole fluttering when he spreads you open. You can’t answer his question about the injury as he lowers his face, pressing the flat of his tongue to the sensitive skin then dipping it inside of you.

“Oh, fuck.”

You taste and smell and feel perfect, and the only thought in his mind is to devour you. He won’t stop until you’re crying, drool leaking from your mouth and your cunt. And, he knows exactly how to get you to that point.

Mike flicks over your clit until it grows firm against his tongue then sucks it into his mouth. The noise you make goes straight to his cock, and he starts to rut into the mattress to get some kind of friction. He can already feel precum dripping from his tip, knows you won’t be the only one getting messy tonight, but he doesn’t care. He’s never cared.

Mike only pulls away when your thighs start to tremble around his head, and it’s only to mark them with bruises. It reminds him of the last time, when you’d let him fuck you in a fit of desperation. It had been his undoing. He thought of that night for years, and now that he’s able to do it all again, he can’t help but confess, “Fuck, I’ve missed your pussy,” just before he spits on it.

Your chest is rising with every little whimper you release as your nails dig into your palms. He’s never been happier to have long arms, able to reach up and massage your tits, stretching his fingers out to span across your chest, thumb on one nipple, pinky on the other, and as he teases both of them, he moans at the fresh slick that coats his tongue.

“A finger,” you pant, “Give me a finger, fuck, at least one, please please please—”

You’ve always been so cute when you babble. Mike can never say no when you talk to him like that, but after assessing and deeming you fit, he slides two fingers into you at once, still sucking your clit.

You swear loudly, almost in surprise, but that doesn’t stop you from moving your hips, fucking yourself on every digit as your jaw drops open.

Mike wants to see your face—has to see it, so he licks up your body, stopping to tongue over your nipples as he goes. He never falters in his thrusting, still knows the exact angle he has to crook his fingers to hit your g-spot. Your back arches, and you plant your feet flat on the mattress to give yourself more leverage, more control. Mike smirks down at you, enjoying your euphoric expression as he grinds his palm against the bundle of nerves that is the key to making you fall apart.

“Oh my god—oh, god—fuck, Miche.”

His breath catches in his throat. God, he hasn’t heard that in too long. He never told you, not that he ever had to, but hearing you call him that drove him crazy, made him fall further in love and lust at the same time, and hearing it now has the same effect.

“Please,” you whine, then repeat it, spreading your legs to coax him deeper. “Fuck, I need you so bad, s-so bad.”

He’s in the perfect position to rub his cock over your stomach, smearing pre everywhere it touches. From the beginning, Mike has loved leaving traces of himself on you, always felt like he could almost smell it on your skin, like a sigil to ward off others.

He places a soft kiss at the corner of one closed eye, then on the other, and when you open them to look at him, he sees that they’re filled with tears.

It makes him pause, but you keep riding his fingers and beg, “Don’t stop, please don’t stop, m’fine, just—”

“Why're you crying then?" he grins, leaning down to lick your bottom lip. "Feel good?"

You nod, raising to your elbows to force your mouth against his, sliding your tongue inside then whining when Mike pulls away, but it's only to gather the spit in his mouth. When he kisses you again, he makes sure you take it all, pushing saliva past his teeth and onto your palette, and when you swallow, Mike makes a noise of satisfaction.

"That's my fuckin' girl."

That wide, fuck-drunk smile he loves so much spreads across your face as you accept the praise you never would have when you were younger.

Mike noses just under your ear then asks, "You ready for my cock?"

"Always,” you breathe. “Always ready for it."

"Yeah?" You nod, face scrunching up, and Mike thinks there's a chance that you're—"Gonna come for me first?"

Your muscles are starting to tense, hips stuttering, and he can actually feel your pussy spasming around his fingers.

"Come on, baby, you can do it. Just—'

Your eyes roll back as your body pulses. Mike's hand is coated with slick that he can't wait to lick off, and he fucks you with his fingers until you go limp.

He cleans his hand then slithers back between your legs to catch everything that's leaking from you. You release a pitiful moan when he traces a circle around your entrance then squeal when he rubs his beard over it.

"Jesus fuck!"

"Sensitive?" He teases before crawling back up to kiss you.

Holding himself up with one arm, Mike takes hold of his cock, painfully hard at this point, and parts your wet folds with his tip. He slides it up and down, teasing both you and himself and gasping every time it just barely dips inside of you.

"Miche, please."

"You sound good when you beg," he tells you. You've been doing an awful lot of that tonight.

"Good enough to fuck me?"

"Mm, maybe," he plays, but he's cut off when you lift yourself just enough to take his cockhead inside of you, squeezing it so that he swears.

It completely dismantles any self-control Mike thought he had, and he gives you everything he has in a single thrust that makes you scream his name.

"You asked for it," he tells you, starting to pull out.

You grip his biceps, shaking your head. "J-just stay still for a—oh god, oh god…"

Mike doesn't move, lets you adjust while he enjoys the way your cunt clenches around his cock. You're panting, eyebrows knit together, and apologize, "Sorry, give me… a minute. Been a while since I've taken anything this s-size."

It's juvenile, but Mike's chest still puffs a little when you tell him that, and that feeling only grows when you give him the go ahead to move and he pulls out to see that his cock is already covered in white cream.

Breathing out a quiet, "Fuck," he slowly pushes back in, mesmerized by the way it creates a thick ring at the base. "So pretty," he mutters, rubbing a thumb over the skin that's stretched around him. "Such a pretty pussy."

He lets a string of spit drip from his mouth and onto your clit then strokes the swollen bud in circles, the pad of his fingers brushing over the tiny hole that makes you twitch every time.

Mike falls into a very slow, deep rhythm, torturing you as he drags his cock over every inch of your satin walls. Tiny gasps are pushed from your throat with every thrust, growing louder when Mike sits back on his heels and pulls your hips up to meet his. It leaves you helpless, only able to claw at the blankets, but your efforts are half-hearted, the press of Mike's cockhead against your g-spot obviously making it hard to do just about anything.

"I—I—I—..."

"You what, baby?" He coos while admiring how big his hands look where they wrap around your waist, holding you mostly still as he drives his cock in and out of you.

Your cunt is pulsing again, so tight around him as it drips with slick and cream. The sounds it's making, an obscene balance of suction and squelching, has Mike shaking over you because it's so lewd but so familiar, and god, he has missed this.

And, you're right. It's stupid because he's just putting himself in the same place he was in ten years ago, but now he's a grown fucking adult, able to handle himself better, communicate better, fuck you better.

Tears leak from the corners of your eyes when he picks up his pace, and he groans when he presses in just a little too far, cockhead nudging against the wall deep inside of you. Your eyelids flutter, toes curling where your feet dangle and shake on either side of Mike.

His hips start to snap against yours, his balls swinging every time, and Mike remembers how nice it felt when they'd slap against your clit, the way you'd sing for him, and well…

"Turn over," he breathes, pulling out and helping as you get to your hands and knees.

He takes the time to appreciate the view, letting the weight of his cock settle on your back just to get a visual of how much you take of it, what it might look like deep in your ass and what it would be like to see your stomach bulge from it.

Another day.

Not wasting any more time, Mike sheathes himself inside you once again, spreading your cheeks and spitting on your puckering hole so that he can press against it with a thumb.

Your pussy opens up for him, like your body is begging him for more, so Mike fucks you harder, faster, slipping the tip of his finger into your asshole so that you tense up and say his name drunkenly.

His heavy balls hit your clit over and over, making you squirm and swear, head hanging back in an invitation, so Mike uses his free hand to grab you by the hair, pulling and glancing at what he can see of your face to make sure he isn't hurting you too much.

That grin is back, crooked and shiny with drool you keep having to suck back from your teeth. Mike hasn't felt this good having sex in god knows how long (he knows exactly how long it's been), and he thinks out loud, "Always take my cock so well. Always been able to…"

"Feels so good, Miche," you cry, "You feel so fucking good, oh my god."

He takes you like this until you can't hold yourself up anymore, elbows buckling underneath you, and all he does then is fall onto his back and pull you with him, letting you ride him like this and dragging his nails down your spine. It curves under his touch, arching and bowing as you lean forward to plant your hands between his legs and bounce on him.

Mike has a perfect view from this angle, huffing at the way your puffy lips open for him, clinging to his cock and dripping gossamer strands. Pressure slowly starts to build in both his gut and his balls, a hot sensation that grows, making him feel full and swollen and fuck, he can't wait to fill you up, can't wait to see you sloppy with his cum again.

But, not yet. Not yet.

Pushing you until you move off of him, Mike grabs his pillows and shoves you down on them, kissing you again before burying his face between your legs. Your hands are immediately in his hair, and he smiles when you tug at it a little harshly, using the strands as a means to guide Mike right where you want him. Even though he's taking this little break to let himself calm down, he can't help but press his hips to the mattress. He's hot and throbbing and dripping pre, ready but not ready to unload everything inside of you. He doesn't want it to end too soon, wants to savor every second because you're here crying and pleading for him, pushing yourself against his face only to pull back when he sucks on your clit.

He's able to fit three fingers inside of you now, keeps licking and fucking you until you whisper a slew of curses and start to warn him, "You're gonna make me—" breaking into a high-pitched moan as you squirt into his mouth and all over his hand.

"Fuck yes, again, come on, baby, do that again."

Mike coaxes another out of you, groaning at the feeling of you dripping down his face and chuckling at the way you shiver and sit up. Your eyes are barely open, head swaying back and forth, but you plant a hand on his chest with the confidence of someone who doesn't look like they're about to pass out, shoving him back until he lays down.

Straddling him, you sink down on his cock and bite your lip as you rock back and forth for a few seconds. Mike can feel fluid dripping over his pelvis, murmurs, "So messy," while pulling you down for a lazy kiss.

He lets you ride him, lets you think you're in control for a while until your legs start to get tired, rhythm becoming slower, and then Mike takes over. He lifts and drops you to his content, hips meeting yours as he fucks up into you. Your own hands cup your tits, pinching your nipples and putting on a show as you bounce up and down.

"You're so good," you breathe. "So fucking good to me, god, Miche, right there."

He's on the brink, so close to his climax, but he holds back, giving it to you just the way you want it until it starts to hurt, and then he grunts, "'m gonna come, baby, I have to. Fuck, please, please, let me—"

"Yes, yes, wanna feel you…"

Mike's head sinks further into the pillow as his hips move without any thought on his part. He spills inside of you, hot ropes of cum filling your cunt so that it starts to leak out around him, then shooting even more inside of you.

"Jesus fucking—"

Your muscles clench, squeezing and milking him until Mike starts groaning and twitching from overstimulation.

He could die right here and now and be totally fine with it. He really could. But before he can let that happen...

Mike urges you back, letting you get situated on your pillows again as he gazes at your stretched pussy and everything dripping out of it.

As soon as you stop moving, Mike is working his tongue inside of you. He can taste both himself and you, feel it coat his tongue as he drinks in as much as he can before sliding up to your face and taking your chin so you'll open your mouth.

The first drop makes you open wider, sticking your tongue out so that Mike can fill your mouth with his cum and spit, and the fact that you let him is so incredibly arousing, he just might fuck you until he's coming dry.

The little pattern is repeated a few times, Mike licking your pussy then spitting everything into your mouth, but he leaves some for lubrication, shoving the last of his cum back inside you when he starts fucking you on his fingers. He keeps you pliant, sucking on your clit so that he can slowly ease his pinky into your ass, and it isn't long before you're letting out breathy little sounds and tensing underneath him.

He takes care of you through your orgasm, looking at your face from where he lays. You're so pretty when you come, mouth open, eyebrows high, the picture of ecstasy, and Mike wants to remember it forever. He wants to keep you like this forever.

You shudder when he pulls his fingers from you, whine when he slowly laves over your sensitive pussy with his tongue, but after several long licks, Mike crawls back up to lay next to you.

"God damn," you laugh. "I had almost forgotten how good you are."

Mike smirks, kissing your temple and nipping the shell of your ear. "Almost?"

You nod, a spent smile making your lips curl. "I don't think I could ever fully forget even if I wanted to."

Humming, he traces fingers over your stomach, now sticky from the mess of precum he had basically slathered you with.

"Yeah, we were pretty good for each other when we weren't being stupid," he muses.

He should probably step away for a few minutes, hop in the shower and wait for the flood of chemicals in his brain to fall away.

"We were, weren't we?"

"Mhm."

Mike dips to press his face into your neck. He just can't stop touching you, can't stop breathing you in. He needs to memorize everything about this—how soft you are underneath him, how you smell like sex and sweat and your perfume, how quiet your voice is when you speak to him.

He feels your body rise and fall with a heavy sigh, and he's about to ask if you want to rinse off, but you open your mouth first, thoughtful when you tell him, "I loved you so much, Miche."

"I know," he replies. Even if he couldn't see it then, he can now. You may not have told him to his face, but if Mike had been just a little smarter back then, he would have realized you were telling him in different ways. "I loved you too."

He feels you pet his hair, probably a tangled wreck from being pulled. "I, uh…" You swallow hard, and Mike rests his chin on the hand on your chest, your heart beating against his palm a little too fast.

"You wanna shower before you say whatever you're about to?"

He knows what you're about to tell him. He just wants to make sure you don't regret it when you come back to yourself. "Yeah, probably."

Both of you leave the bed on unsteady legs, Mike leading you to the shower and setting it to your favored temperature. He stands under the spray with you, taking the brunt of the water while kissing you. You move slowly, tangling your tongue with his, mapping out his body with exploratory hands.

Mike is the one to break away after several minutes, insisting on soaping you up and dragging his loofah over your skin. He even sinks to his knees, gentle as he cleans your thighs and between them, careful not to get suds anywhere they're not supposed to be. When he’s finished, Mike presses a kiss to your pelvic bone before standing again, grinning when you pull him back to your face.

He doesn't have the same, short refractory period he used to otherwise he'd fuck you against the tiled wall, but he's content to stay like this, sucking on your lip and pressing against you.

Even after you've been given the chance to get your thoughts in order, you still blink up at Mike, water droplets dotting and falling from your eyelashes as you tell him, "I love you. I still love you. I don't think I can stop."

He holds your head in his hands, brushes his nose against yours as his chest swells with more emotion than he thinks he can actually handle, and his own confession is easy: "I love you, too." Another soft peck to your lips before he adds, "I think you already knew that, though."

"Wasn't positive."

Mike knows there are logistics to consider, but the two of you can work on that later. For now he just wants to finish rinsing off and crawl into bed with you.

He should probably change the sheets, though, and find you pajamas, so Mike does exactly that as you traipse back out to the kitchen for some water, wearing absolutely nothing and making him bite his lip.

He puts new bedding on the mattress, then digs through his dresser for a t-shirt and boxers. Something catches his eye, printed material that almost makes him laugh out loud. He doesn't know why he still has the shorts, especially since he ruined the shirt a long, long time ago, but he's so glad he does.

Pink and covered in palm trees, he can't even fit into them any more, but it's fine. He thinks he knows how he can repurpose them.

But first, he needs to call his mom.

It's an easy fix, really. Before the Sina project even comes close to wrapping up, Mike finds a place for you in his department, something you hadn't thought possible, but apparently he's kind of a big deal in the field.

When he makes you the job offer in the conference room, he's able to keep it professional for a whole three minutes before you agree to the terms, and then he's out of his chair and picking you up to swing around. Just like that, the whole fucking office knows about the two of you.

"Ha! You owe me fifty bucks, Moblit!" Hange shouts for everyone to hear, and you shake your head as the quiet man asks if he can Venmo them.

"I fucking knew it! I knew there was something going on! God, that's so satisfying. I'm not even mad that you're leaving us."

"It's been going on for a long time now," you snort.

Hange leans against the wall and wriggles their eyebrows, "Yeah, what, like, the whole three months we’ve been here?"

"Try ten years," Mike mutters, and the eyes behind Hange's glasses nearly roll out of their head.

You and Mike have to sign a few things, contracts and couples disclosures and what not, but you don't mind.

The first thing you do is ask for a few days off in order to move, and Mike naturally does the same to help. You live just over three hours away, but are able to recruit some help in the form of your old friends.

You let out a shrill scream when you see Erwin step out of his car outside of your apartment complex, all but throw yourself into his arms so that he laughs and squeezes you tight against him. It's been a couple years since you've actually seen him, the distance between you just a little too far, but it's so nice to stare at his stupid face again.

Nile is also there with a very pregnant Marie on his arm, and Hitch and Rhi arrive as all the guys are carrying down the first load of packed boxes.

"Damn, it has been a long time since we've all been together," you say, looking around at everyone and grinning after you tape up another set of cardboard flaps.

"Yeah, kinda weird how we all just get along now," Hitch giggles.

"It's almost like we're adults or something," Rhi adds.

You pass her the box, but she just groans and passes it to Erwin.

Everyone takes turns making trips to Mike's apartment, and the moving effort takes three days in total. You really need to find a way to repay all of them, maybe suggest a nice dinner.

"God, why do you own so much shit, babe?" Mike asks after loading the last shelves of a bookcase into his car (that you still hate).

"Because everything has sentimental value. Don't judge me."

"Oh, I'm judging. When'd you get so soft?"

You roll your eyes and reach past him to close the trunk door.

The others are all standing in the parking lot with you, antsy and excited for the two of you, or so you assume.

"I really can't thank you guys enough. You've made this so much easier," you tell them.

Erwin grins widely and pulls you into a hug, and to your surprise, Hitch slides around you to hold you from behind. It makes you laugh and call them dumb, but when they step back, you're hit with the realization that they weren't just being goofy; they were strategizing, keeping you shielded from Mike who is now kneeling on the asphalt and chewing on his bottom lip.

Your eyes grow wide, and you step back only to run straight into Erwin's chest. He puts two, grounding hands on your shoulders, and you can almost feel his smile as Mike reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small box.

A small pink box.

A small pink box with pieces of fucking palm trees wrapping around it.

"Did you get that fucking upholstered?" You shout, and Mike lets out a giddy laugh, his eyes so narrow from grinning that you can barely see the green. "I don't even wanna open it. I cannot believe—"

"Good thing you don't have to open it then," he chuckles. “I do.”

"You are fucking impossible, you know that?"

"Yeah," he agrees before prying the ridiculous box apart and revealing a ring that makes you tear up.

It isn't huge, but it's far from plain, sparkling stones wrapping around it with a larger, round cut in the middle. It's extremely pretty and very you, and oh, you wanna put it on, you wanna put it on right now.

"Don't look too impressed. Mom helped me pick it out, and it’s all ethically sourced, of course," Mike says, and you wipe your eyes while giggling.

"Oh my god, she's crying!" Rhi yells.

"Shut up, it's because of that atrocious box."

Mike looks behind you at Erwin. "I knew she'd love it."

"Yeah, good call, bro."

"I hate both of you."

"Still gonna marry me, though, right?" Mike is still grinning, but you can see the barest hint of worry in his eyes, and you can't blame him because this is big. This is commitment. Marriage. He wants you to marry him.

And, some will say it’s too quick, that you’ve only been actually dating for a couple of months, but it makes sense because if you’re being honest, you never really fell out of love with Mike. He’s always been nestled deep in your heart.

"Against my better judgement," you smirk.

He stands up quick enough to make himself dizzy, has to brace a hand on his car as he kisses you.

"Finally!" Erwin shouts, clapping his hands and being joined by the others.

Mike slides the ring from the terrible box, pushes it onto your finger with shaky hands, and when you admire it in the sun, you look at him and nod. "Very nice, Zacharias. Even in the parking lot setting."

"I just wanted everyone to be here! If we went somewhere fancy, you would've figured it out."

That's true. Going to some nice restaurant or quaint little park would have definitely tipped you off.

"Also, you know once we're married, you will also be Zacharias."

"Yeah," you nod thoughtfully. "Yeah, I guess I will be. Hey," you look at him with raised eyebrows. "Wanna shotgun beers at the wedding?"

Mike laughs loudly. "That is how it all started, isn't it?"

"Yeah, this stupid frat boy in a Hawaiian shirt came up to me and demanded I shotgun a room temp beer."

"Sounds like an asshole," Mike chuckles.

You shrug as he pulls you into his chest and sigh into his shirt, "He turned out alright, I guess."

#mike zacharias x reader #miche zacharias x reader #aot x reader #aot fanfic

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jq37 · 3 years ago

Text

The Report Card – Fantasy High: The Seven Ep 3

Let’s Split Up and Look for Clues!

Welcome back to the Seven and the Museum of Adventuring. My previous pronouncement of combat was a little premature but hold tight, we’ll get there. For now, we’re back with Antiope who just saw a glimpse of the Ending of Things (aka, Ending) and is freaking out a bit. She tells the others and they all do various checks to see what they can find out.

Ostentatia casts Commune With City and clocks that there is some kind of abjuration shield magic on the government buildings in town, stopping them from being spied on. She also clocks some lingering undead-ish magic and a weird divination effect on Antiope, specifically on the Aguefort logo of her jacket, like someone scryed on her and just got that she had something to do with Aguefort. At this, Penny reminds her that the only true piece of info they gave Ending when they broke her out is that they were from Aguefort.

Sam with a 19 Insight still feels the connection she and Ant have with Ending because of their spells turned against them in the initial encounter. Yelle does a Perception check (27) and once again doesn’t really get bad, dreadful, menacing vibes. But also, she recognizes that she’s chill with a lot of things most people don’t love.

Antiope reiterates that she texted Charity that she’s interested in the internship so she can learn more info--even better now that they know the buildings are safe from scrying. Yelle remembers Aguefort’s warning about people watching them and Sam asks Zelda if her “weird boyfriend” (“he’s actually really cool”) is friends with the elven oracle. Zelda says yeah, they’re both friends with Adaine, she can ask about any weird divination stuff. Sam makes sure to specify she should look into TK but NOT Ending, no doubt remembering what happened when she tried to do a spell on her.

It’s been a big day as Zelda says so they all go to the TGIF-esque Slappy McFinnigans to celebrate (which Sam has problems with--the fact that they’re celebrating I mean, but she’s mainly ignored). They’re quickly kicked out because Katja can’t help herself from trying to brush the mane of their centaur server and they reconvene at the more their speed SlamBurger, where a horse can fully destroy a soda machine to absolutely zero reaction. Zelda says that Ostentatia was right in that they should all do the quest because it doesn’t close any doors and they have the 2 weeks to figure things out. They all seem a bit more on the same page (though Sam is still pretty frosty towards Ant) and start making plans.

Before they leave, Yelle pulls aside Ant and Sam and says hey, first of all, you two are still linked to Ending from before. Second of all, I know y’all are Going Through It right now and you don’t have to talk about it or make up right away but you need to get your heads in the game and you need to know that you’re both loved and still family.

Penny, Zelda, Katja, and Ostentatia go back to the museum to try and get more information for their quest. Katja goes to the information desk (horse in tow, of course) and just starts asking information about TK. She’s told that she’s one of the museum’s benefactors and has been missing for years, and hey, do you understand that a museum’s info desk is about where the water fountains and exhibits are, not just random information about the world?

Ostentatia bails her out by calling her over so she can do her plan which is just to walk into the back area like she owns the place. Now, Aguefort students do have a certain level of clearance to be back there and she does have her school ID. But instead of explaining that, she tried to use her Earrings of Diamond Charm to charm the employee she runs into which fails. And then she does a pretty good tag-team lie with Katja about how they NEED to pass a class but that doesn’t fly. Then Ostentatia tries flirting which ALSO doesn’t work. Zelda at this point steps in and just headbuts the dude so they can book it away. I personally would have gone with, “Do you know who we are? We killed the dragon that’s your current main exhibit,” but you know. No backseat adventuring.

While this is happening, Penny is stealthing like a pro, looking for anything Arcana related. Ostentatia and Katja also did checks (O getting a nat 20) and we’ll go through all their info gathered now.

Katja basically gets info on TK we kind of already knew. She was a benefactor of the museum. She’s centuries old like Aguefort. She was concerned with consciousness and divinity and specifically how will and divine will manifested, as well as elemental magic.

Ostentatia gets a lot of info with her Nat 20. She gets a full map to the temple where TK went which is called the Temple of Earth Defiant. The point of the temple is that it’s up in the open air and harsh winds--wind being a symbol of chaos and unpredictability to dwarves--but they still use it as a place to honor their heroes and they rebuild and upkeep it despite the erosion and how hard it is to get there. It’s hallowed from evil and lots of stories about it involve heroes racing there for sanctuary. It was made by dwarves but it’s a pilgrimage site for other primordial beings like goliaths and earth genasi (which is what TK is). There are 3 heroes who have big statues here: Asha Hammerheart (a SUPER dope name I must say), Yvonna of the Sundering Hills , and Kora Ironbrow.

Penny finds that, amongst Kalvaxus’s hoard there were 7 unrecovered artifacts--the Mirrors of the Eidolons (which are the smashed mirrors they found it seems). Eidelons are kind of like the elemental plane version of angels/celestials. They’re primordial (remember Katja saw primordial language on the wall of the dragon cave) and kind of aligned with things like titans and genies. Raw element with no agenda (unlike celestials and demons and such which have a clear alignment which makes up the D&D religious system). It is said by wizards--who look at these things in more of a nuts and bolts way than say clerics who take the fuzzier religions view--that Eidolons are the hands of the gods because gods are beings of spirit--how could they form the physical world. Will of the divine manifested by elemental beings? Sounds right up TK’s alley.

Sam decides she’s desperate enough for information that she calls her mom who she is understandably snippy with. Her mom gives her a contact to talk to when she asks about TK but Sam stonewalls her on show business talk. She tries to play the “mother knows best, you’ll thank me later,” in a kind of Gothel-y way while acting like anything in the past never happened and says Sam is attacking her but when Sam accuses her of neglect, she proves her right by hanging up the phone.

Sam then calls the number and it turns out to be Lola Embers (Fig’s agent) who has been waiting for Sam’s call for ages and wants to talk to her, even though she’s currently chasing her dog across the park. She says she met TK once at a genasi woman networking thing and also says she once saw Charity get into an argument with TK over government funding or not getting a grant or something similar. She then says she’s in a lake trying to get her dog and Sam, being a water genasi who can breathe underwater and also a fundamentally good person even though she’s currently being aggro as hell, goes to the park to help her. Lola assures her that if she’s ready, she’ll help her get new acting gigs and that the world is ready for the new her.

Yelle meanwhile casts Speak With Plants on some trees near TK’s office and, after a super stoner to stoner conversation, gets a magical footprint trail of where she ran off to when she absconded 12 years ago.

Antiope (who is in a sports bra because she destroyed her top with the Aguefort logo since that’s what was pinged, revealing in a wild, nat-1 fueled retcon that she got a tramp stamp reading “Leader” in the Red Waste) goes to see Charity to fill out some paperwork, ingratiate herself, and perhaps get some info. Charity has her hot, young, assistant (who Antiope is instantly crushing on) give Ant his shirt (and Charity’s lack of surprise at seeing his 4 horses pulling a chariot tattoo makes the group think they’re def banging). She kind of explains what the Ministry does and Antiope boils it down a bit to snitching on other adventurers. Charity says it’s more of a who watches the watchmen situation and visibly twitches when she has to say the word “snitch”.

When she takes a second to call Antiope’s dad, she accidentally leaves a tab open on her computer which has TK’s file open (probably up from when the Maidens asked about her earlier). Antiope sneaks a peek and learns that the artifact that TK stole is called the Legendarium Extrodia and it tracks quests. It seems that at some point TK must have had top level access to get her hands on it. It also shows that TK was marked for assassination (which seems like a pretty good reason to get the heck out of dodge). Brennan also says she’s learned enough that she can use the L.E. if she finds it.

At this point, Yelle tells everyone to come back ASAP so they can follow the magic footsteps. Antiope wants to come but doesn’t want to burn bridges with Charity (or chances with Preston--equally important) so she, at Katja’s suggestion--pretends to have diarrhea and is Nat 20 convincing. Interesting choice for the end of the first meeting with a person you’re crushing on. But Preston is actually pretty supportive as she races out the door as fast as possible.

The Seven follow the footsteps out of Solace and it becomes clear that TK was headed to the dwarven temple Ostentatia learned about. This is a multi-day journey so Cinnamon sings a glorious, magical, horse song and summons mounts for everyone which I will now name because this is obviously the most important part of the episode:

Snowfire - Danielle

Taffodill - Sam

Alagonia - Antiope

Candyheart - Penny

Starforge - Ostentatia

Strawberry Dancer - Zelda

Crucial info.

As they travel, Antiope casts Primeval Awareness and gets that there is something ancient in the mountain. They travel through Pilgrim’s Pass (a village area most travelers to the temple pass through) but find it completely razed to the ground. They investigate.

With an 18 Survival check, Antiope finds tracks that seem halfway between dog and cat. There are more than 4 legs and it’s hard to tell how old they are because there’s not a lot of rain in the area. They could have been left long ago and been undisturbed. Regardless, these are clearly from monstrosities. On a 26 History Check, Katja knows that this area used to be protected by Blink Dogs (teleporting dogs) but they seem to be all gone now. On a 22 Nature check, Yelle sees a weird feather made out of plant material. It seems like fae stuff but bad vibes. On an 18 Insight check, Sam knows this was a purposeful slaughter.

And on Penny’s 30 Arcana check, oh boy. Penny finds broken common scrawled on the wall in human blood talking about a queen of the mountain who rules the skies. That only the queen may see and none may see themselves. And that the people were told to destroy the seeing glass and did not obey. In from of that message is a bear hide covering something magic. Penny lifts it with reckless abandon and sees tons of mirror shards.

Friendship bracelets! She thinks.

Gotcha bitch, the thing in the mirror says.

Uh-oh.

Penny calls over her friends to let them knows she may have made a tiny mistake. The group is pretty split between, “Understandable,” and “Girl, WHAT?” In her defense, she did try to cast Friends on the person on the other side of the mirror shards but that’s not enough to stop an entire pack of 50-60 Displacer Beast (magic tentacle cats)/Blink Dog hybrid monstrosities along with the Harpy Queen (voice from the mirror) and her plant feathered harpy minions to start rapidly making their way to their location.

It is at this point that Ostentatia remembers that abominations and monstrosities cannot step into the temple which means it’s time to RUN.

And NOW it’s combat time.

The premise of this fight is that the girls are on their horses, moving towards the center of the temple as fast as they can while fending off the closest enemies. I won’t give an exact play by play but the two highlights are as follows:

Yelle conjures up a bunch of geese with raptor stats (...so normal geese) to swarm the head cat/dog abomination and has to do a truly stunning amount of math for which she is rewarded with SEVENTY POINTS OF DAMAGE.

Antiope does some insane arrow trickery and gets the Queen Harpy in the wing (which Ostentatia helpfully gets on video so she can show Preston later) and then forces her to take damage as she falls. If not for an extremely lucky Box of Doom nat 20, she may have been down for the count. Antiope still comes away with more than FIFTY points of damage on her though.

And we end the episode mid-combat! We will catch up on our girls next time!

Superlatives

Penny: Most Likely to Make Friends During a Hostage Situation

As a companion to Danielle’s superlative last episode, Penny gets this award for reading or misreading every situation as an opportunity to make friends or make friendship bracelets for the ones she already has.

Random Thoughts

Did you guys notice that with Katja having Cinnamon and Charity’s assistant being Preston, that’s two of the main pet NPCs from A Crown of Candy?

Antiope’s Reaction to Yelle Saying That Maybe Things Ending Isn’t So Bad: Rail against the dying of the light! Why are you OK with this?

Penny’s Reaction to Yelle Saying That Maybe Things Ending Isn’t So Bad: Entropy is TERRIBLE! Everything needs order!

The greasy cashier’s response to Ostentatia’s flirty, “Come here often?” is “To my job? Honestly no.” Brennan? Chef’s kiss.

My other fave line this episode is from Sam. “I believe Cinnamon fucks.”

It’s very cute that Penny is like, “I gotta text Riz about this Eidelon stuff!” Not because she wants help. Just so they can geek out together.

The joke that Brennan didn’t think about the birds is so funny considering all the bird facts in Misfits.

Also re Birds attacking: “They made a movie about this Brennan!”

Good on Ant for refusing an Aguefort sweatshirt from Charity when offered after the little scrying incident before. Remembering things like this saves lives.

It has been brought up several times that Ending isn’t necessarily Bad just Ancient and Powerful and I trust Yelle’s vibe check but also, like, a forest fire doesn’t have malice behind it but it can still devastate a city while it clears out dead trees that need to be cleared, you know? Not ready to start wild speculation yet but I am curious. And am similarly curious about the sisters Ending has mentioned. Oh and the parallels of 7 Maidens, 7 mirrors. It’s all there, we just need a little more info.

Honestly, get you a man who will see you rushing out of a building, loudly claiming to have diarrhea, and instead of being grosses out will just supportively confess his own stomach issues. I wish he was just a little younger cause I want that for Ant.

I do like that D20 has been playing a little more fast and loose with the RP ep/combat ep format. I think it really helps with story flow.

In this episode Antiope and Brennan as various non-Zelda NPCs rolled 2 Nat 20s. O rolled one. Ant rolled 1 Nat 1--which was on a self imposed roll to see how she responded to Sephie’s tramp stamp improv. And O may have rolled one for initiative also but I wasn’t sure.

#dimension 20 #dimension 20 spoilers #fantasy high #the seven #spoilers #sorry this is a little late #life happens

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mcheang · 4 years ago

Text

Phone Hiatus

This is a draft inspired by the Victorious episode Phone Bet.

Mendeliev dares the class to go a week without using their phones. If they succeed, she will include an extra credit assignment. For those who don’t need that assignment, she will allow them to skip class. And to make sure some people (aka Chloe, Max, Sabrina and Alya) don’t give up so soon out of disinterest, Mendeliev makes this a group dare. You all pass, or you all fail.

If they fail, they have to waste a weekend helping Mendeliev set up another class project in the forest. It would be a buggy, sweaty trip.

Since Markov can be used as a phone, Mendeliev will be borrowing him for the week, and having him check to see if the kids were using their cellphones.

Computers are allowed for the sake of schoolwork and general info. iPads are not.

For some people, this bet was no problem.

Marinette sketches on paper and doesn’t spend much time in front of the screen except when watching Adrien coverage.

Adrien was living the Dream. No more calls from Nathalie. Though she did buy him an alarm watch to remind him of his appointments.

For others; they were dying.

Chloe lived for gossip. How was she supposed to check her channels if she couldn’t use her phone. How was she going to flaunt her wealth if she couldn’t access her blog? And she was about to collect a gem for her Miraculous Crush account!

Alya loved technology. And she constantly fretted about the chances of an akuma happening when she didn’t have her phone! And it’s not like she can record the battle on her laptop. There was the school digital camera but they would never let her drag it around with her for a whole week. And her father would never let her use his camera, knowing how she likes to run into akuma sites.

Max consoles himself with a video game, driving Alya and Chloe insane to see him tapping his fingers away at what could almost pass for a phone.

By the middle of the week, the latter group were a mess. Max misses Markov. Chloe’s fingers kept twitching. And Alya snaps at anybody who moves.

Mendeliev smirks. “It’s sad seeing you all like this. Are you sure you don’t want to just give up now and save yourselves the misery of the next few days?”

To tempt the weak ones further, Mendeliev flaunts their phones in her phone bucket.

Chloe snaps. She could hire people to do the grunt work, but she needs to text now! And her grades were stellar, so no worries about that.

The class stops her. Some need that extra credit!

Nathaniel: I knew the girls would crack first

Max: logically speaking, they were the ones most likely to lose us the bet.

Nino: and i don’t want to lose my chance at a better grade just because they give up so easily.

Alya: watch your mouth, boyfriend.

Alix: and you guys are just as desperate to use your phones as us.

Chloe: I doubt that.

Mendeliev: shall we change the bet? Instead of a one week deadline, the contest ends when one gender loses and the other wins.

Marinette: bring it!

Ivan: good luck, you’re going to need it.

A few hours later...

Marinette: what was I thinking?!!!!

Alix: you were defending women!

Marinette: yeah, without considering our odds. Max survives with video games while we have to handcuff Chloe and Alya!

Mylene: then it looks like we have to gain an edge

Rose: how?

Lila: simple, really. We just need to get Max to break.

Marinette: it’s time to see whether the gamer is ready for a rematch.

Marinette challenges Max to a game. She wins, he can’t play anymore video games. He wins, she will uncuff Chloe and Alya.

Marinette wins.

Max shrugs. He has computer games.

Except for once, Lila and Marinette are on the same team. Lila used her silver tongue to convince Max’s mother that it might be good for her son to spend time away from tech and enjoy nature at its best. He’s just exaggerating about the cons of Mendeliev’s project set up.

Max is cut off from any screen. He begins to twitch like Chloe.

The guys restrain Max as they try to figure out how to free Alya and Chloe.

Adrien offers. The guys agree; thinking Marinette will easily give Adrien the key just by asking.

But Adrien was just going to send Plagg over.

Plagg was happy to cheat.

Tikki caught him. What do you expect? The girls’ base is Marinette’s bedroom.

Plagg is sent home, bruised in the rear from where Tikki kicked him out. He claimed to have been mistaken for a rat.

Kim: ok, new plan. We lay out a temptation bait so strong, the girls will overpower their bindings by mere force of will.

Nathaniel: what kind of bait?

Kim: how about “Ladybug announces opening for new permanent hero? Chloé will go nuts thinking she has a shot. And Alya will fight anyone who stops her from reading the scoop.

Adrien: i don’t like that scoop.

Kim: got a better idea?

Adrien sulks. “No.”

The next day, before the boys could enact their plan though, Max lost the game.

Everyone’s phones had been returned to their tables and Chloé and Alya could be seen typing onto their phones. Max instantly sprang free and started opening phone apps.

Kim: What happened? The game isn’t over.

Marinette: oh yes it is.

Alix: you lost!

Ivan: what?

Nathaniel: how? None of us used our phones till today.

Chloe: true, but while Dupain-Cheng sabotaged my phone and Cesaire’s...

Alya: Max was the first one to use his phone.

Boys: WHAT???

The girls turned their phones around to show black screens. Or in the last 2 girls’ cases, their phone screen were covered with cardboard.

Kim: this is cheating. How did you even get the phones?

Marinette: oh, i just wanted to use them to test my hypothesis. Miss Mendeliev was willing to loan them for the sake of science.

Kim: and what hypothesis would that be?

Miss Mendeliev walked in. “Whether the prolonged absence of a constant would remove all trained caution once the constant was brought into sight.”

Kim: this isn’t fair. Miss Mendeliev, you should have told us about this.

Mendeliev: all’s fair in war. I honestly didn’t plan for this to be a gender war, but since you boys started it, I had to side with my own female species.

So while the girls got to enjoy extra credit or free period, the boys lost their weekend. Don’t worry, some of the girls volunteered to help them anyway

#miraculous ladybug fanfic #miraculous ladybug fic #ml fanfic #ml fanfiction #ml fic #miraculous ladybug fanfiction

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jeonsjiddies · 4 years ago

Text

8 letters | knj (m)

summary- If all it is is eight letters. Why is it so hard to say? If all it is is eight letters, why am I in my own way? Why do I pull you close and then ask you for space? If all it is is eight letters, why is it so hard to say?

8 letters - why don't we

or, emotionally constipated Namjoon is too scared to admit he's in love with you.

rating- explicit 18+

word count- 6071

pairing- namjoon x reader

genre- fluff, smut, angst

Warnings: mentions of jimin x reader, daddy kink, rough sex, edging, jealous Namjoon

a/n: thanks again to @sweetnspicy93 for beta reading and helping me bounce ideas back and forth. Love you <3

Find Jimin’s happy ending here (both stories can be read alone.)

Namjoon typically thought of himself as a pretty intelligent man. He was clumsy, but he was competent. He could solve an equation in his head in under a minute, he’d learned English on his own. He could read a novel in a few hours, and constantly sought out new knowledge. Namjoon was book smart. When it came to love though, Namjoon felt like an idiot.

He wasn’t in denial or anything, he was aware of how he felt and he could name it. It’s not like Namjoon didn’t know he was in love with you, he just couldn’t bring himself to tell you. He wanted to, god he wanted to. He wanted to tell you everything and pull you into his arms and show you everything he’d bottled inside over the past few years.

If he could just shut off his brain long enough to throw caution to the wind, he would tell you everything. If he could stop thinking about every possible thing that could go wrong, he would take a chance. If he could stop worrying about ruining everything, he would do something. But Namjoon can’t figure out how to turn his brain off, so he just sits. And stares.

You’d met Namjoon in college, both of you timid freshmen in a large lecture class who got paired together for a research paper. Namjoon had never seen a more beautiful woman in his life, and spent far more time looking at you than looking up sources to site for your paper. You were pretty sure your cheeks never went back to normal after that, permanently painted a slight shade of pink at the handsome man who couldn’t stop watching you.

Despite the heat in your cheeks and the way Namjoon couldn’t keep his eyes off you, you both quickly fell into a comfortable rhythm. You’d never felt so close with someone so fast in your life. Strangers one day, best friends the next. You felt like you’d known each other your entire lives within a matter of days. You’d both spent the entirety of your college career attached at the hip, and you still were to this day.

Now, you shared a two bedroom apartment with your best friend and spent every moment you could together. You never got tired of each other’s company. Lately though, you’d noticed Namjoon was acting a little weird. Namjoon wasn’t shy when it came to affection, and would often pull you into a hug or let you cuddle up to him while you watched a film together.

But the past few weeks he had been very hot and cold. He’d pull you in for a cuddle then stiffen and shuffle away, avoiding your gaze. He’d lean into your touch when you played with his hair then squirm away and mumble apologies before disappearing into his room for the rest of the night. It felt like Namjoon was pulling away from you and it was breaking your heart. You didn’t know what you were doing wrong. You were determined to revive your friendship to its’ former glory.

“Joonie!” you called, shouting down the hall as you made your way towards his room.

You knocked lightly on the door and he called for you to come in. His head lifted to look at you as you hopped your way over to him excitedly.

“What are you doing?” you grinned, leaning over his shoulder and pressing your body against his back as you surveyed the contents of his desk.

Namjoon coughed uncomfortably and leaned away from you. You frowned and stood up straight.

“It’s a proposal for work on Thursday. We’re going to be expanding the marketing department and launching a new social media campaign and they want me to come up with the pitch to give the director for our new campaign.” he explained.

“Why are you working at home?” you asked, your brow furrowing in worry.

“Because I need to have this done in two days.” he sighed.

“Oh Joon, please don’t overwork yourself. Look at the bags under your eyes! Aren’t you exhausted?” you cooed, letting your thumb run under his eye in an attempt to soothe the bags.

Namjoon closed his eyes and sighed happily while leaning into your touch, relishing the feeling of your skin on his for a moment. His breathing seemed to even at the comfort he felt when you were close to him. You smiled fondly at the soft man under your touch before Namjoon snapped back to reality and jerked away from you.

“I should get back to it…” he cleared his throat, avoiding your gaze.

“Joonie…” you sighed, wanting to reach out to him.

“Hm?” he asked, not looking up from his laptop where he typed away.

“Nothing. Good luck with your project.” you sighed.

A few hours later, Joon emerged and immediately fell onto the couch next to you, nuzzling his head into the crook of your neck and snuggling up against your frame.

“My head hurts.” he whined.

“You’ve been staring at that computer all day. Of course it does.” you accused, but began running your fingers through his hair gently the way you knew Namjoon loved.

He sighed and leaned into your touch, letting you bring comfort to his aching brain. Namjoon melted into your touch, and you hummed quietly, hoping to soothe the pain at least a little. You hated how hard Namjoon worked, you hated seeing him suffer in any way and just wanted to hold him and make him relax.

Soon, Namjoon’s weight against you grew heavy and you knew he’d fallen asleep. You maneuvered his head off of your shoulder and into your lap so you could watch him. His unconscious body seemed to seek yours out. He snuggled closer to your stomach, resting his cheek against it and smiling. You giggled quietly and let your fingers gently trail over his features.

You traced the bridge of his nose, up over his forehead, and he hummed happily in his sleep. You giggled and let your tender touches float down his cheeks and over his lips. You traced the outline of his full lips more than once, wondering idly what they might feel like against your own. They were soft and thick. You wanted to taste them so badly.

You sighed and moved your fingers back up to his cheeks, starting your journey over again. Between the soft sounds of his even breathing to the warmth of his body on yours, you didn’t really stand a chance and ended up falling asleep too, your hand on his cheek and your head lolled back against the couch.

You woke hours later in your own bed tucked into your duvet. You frowned at the cold air surrounding you and the lack of Namjoon in your arms. You huffed in annoyance and flung the blankets off your body, stalking towards Namjoon’s room to ask him just what his problem was. You were about to fling his door open and give him a piece of your mind when you heard a quiet moan from inside.

Was his headache that bad? Poor Joon. Maybe he’d just needed to lie in a dark place. You cracked the door to glance in and check on him, and froze as your eyes soaked in the sight before you. Namjoon lay naked on his bed, sweat slicked hair stuck to his forehead as his massive hand worked up and down his equally massive dick. Your own hand came to cover your mouth in shock but you couldn’t tear your eyes away.

Joon grunted softly, running his thumb over the tip and jerking his hips at the action. Moisture pooled in your panties while you watched his abdomen constrict with the pressure building as he tugged and moaned. Joon’s moans were sinful, beautiful, melodic. You wanted to draw the lovely sounds from the man, but you just watched him pleasure himself. His breathing picked up pace and his moans turned to whines as he got closer to release. Joon met his high and spurts of white shot from his length as he bit his lip to hold in the loud groan. You quietly shut the door so you wouldn’t get caught peeping on your best friend, but couldn’t shake the image of his body shuddering under his ministrations. The scene played on repeat in your brain the whole night, invading your dreams as well.

***

“You had a sex dream about Namjoon?” Jimin coughed, spitting out a little of the coffee he’d been drinking.

“Yes. Ugh. And… it’s not the first time.” you admitted, avoiding his gaze.

“Ooh, who would’ve thought you were such a dirty girl.” Jimin teased, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Ughhh. Jimin help me. The dreams didn’t used to be this vivid but when I saw him jerking off the other day-”

“YOU WHAT?” he choked.

“Oh yeah. Ummm… I kinda accidentally watched him masturbate?” you said it like a question.

“Accidentally?” Jimin raised an accusing brow.

“I was checking on him since he had a headache and… I saw him jerking it.” you hid your face in your hands.

“Oh my god.” Jimin laughed. “Wait how big is he?”

“Jimin!” You chastised, but grinned knowingly.

“I knew it. Damn. I feel insecure now. Joon really has it all.” He laughed.

“I’m sure you’re fine.” You giggled. “Now help me!”

“He doesn’t know that you saw, right?” Jimin confirmed.

“No!” You blurted out, a little too loudly for the small cafe.

The barista glared at you. You lowered your tone, sending her an apologetic smile.

“No. I could never look him in the eye again. I’d have to move.” You gushed anxiously.

“I bet he was jacking off to you.” Jimin smirked.

“Oh shut up Jimin. I’m the one with the crush not him.” You sighed.

“Y/N. You’re both clearly into each other and neither of you has enough balls to do anything about it.” Jimin tutted.

“There’s no way.” You shook your head in denial.

“Wanna bet on it?” He smirked. “$50 says he likes you too. He just needs… a push.”

“A push?” You asked.

“Let’s make him jealous.” Jimin grinned.

“How?” You asked, tilting your head to the side in confusion.

“Pretend you’re into me. We’ll flirt in front of him, cuddle a bit, see if he snaps.” Jimin’s eyes sparkled mischievously.

“That will never work because he doesn’t like me.” You argued.

“Well if you’re right you’ll be $50 richer. What do you have to lose?” He shrugged.

“Well… I guess you’re right.” You nodded. “Fine but only to get you to shut up about Joon liking me. And when I win you have to help me get over this weird lusting phase.”

“Phase.” he scoffed “Like you haven’t been dying to get that man inside you for years.”

Your face turned bright red and you flipped him off, but didn’t object with his words. You couldn’t. It’s not that you hadn’t been attracted to Joon before, it was just intensified after the events you witnessed the night before. It seemed to be all you could think about when you looked at him.

So for the next few weeks, you’d slowly introduced PDA with Jimin while watching to see if you got a reaction out of Namjoon. It started off light, hand holding here, a kiss on the cheek there. Namjoon seemed uncomfortable, but not jealous. You were ready to collect your $50 and call it quits but Jimin kept insisting that if you took it a little further, Namjoon would crack and be unable to hold back his jealousy.

And that was how you found yourself on your couch straddling Jimin’s lap.

“Jimin this is stupid.” You whisper-hissed, trying your best not to make contact with his crotch despite your position.

“Trust me, if Joon walks in on this, he’ll lose his shit.” Jimin assured you.

You heard the door unlock and sent Jimin a panicked look. He grabbed your hips and ground your body down on his and quickly moved his lips against your neck to leave a mark on the skin. If you weren’t so gone for Namjoon you might have actually enjoyed it. You did your best to put on a show, leaning your head back and letting out quiet moans.

A loud crash came from the direction of the front door of your shared apartment and you gasped, looking up to see Namjoon frozen in place with his jaw nearly on the floor. The grocery bags he’d been carrying had fallen from his now limp hands. Jimin’s lips stilled against your skin and you both looked towards Namjoon feigning shock.

You scrambled off of Jimin’s lap and stood up, smoothing your clothes. Jimin stayed on the couch, just observing.

“Joon! I didn’t think you’d be home so soon.” You squeaked.

“I-uh… yeah, I just… sorry.” He mumbled, ducking his head down and picking up the spilled groceries.

You dashed over to help, but Namjoon flinched away from you so you backed up and let him finish the task. You gnawed on your lower lip, waiting for him to say something else. You glanced at Jimin who sent you an encouraging smile and a thumbs up.

“If you guys don’t want to be interrupted maybe you should do that in your room, and not the shared living area.” Namjoon finally spoke, trying and failing to hide the venom in his tone.

Jimin stood up, walking over and wrapping his arms around your waist from behind, resting his head at the crook of your neck and peppering soft kisses at the exposed skin, licking over the previous lovebites he’d placed there, making sure Namjoon saw them. Namjoon stiffened.

“He’s right, let’s take this somewhere a little more… private. Poor Joonie shouldn’t have to witness the things I’m about to do to my dirty slut.” he purred seductively, hot breath fanning over your ear.

You shivered and glanced at Namjoon who was staring daggers at Jimin. A gasp escaped your lips as Jimin rolled his hips into your ass and you felt a very real erection. You turned to look at him and he grinned with no remorse, tugging your wrist to lead you to your bedroom. He closed the door and slammed your body up against it, hands pressing into your shoulders, but kept a distance from you now that Namjoon wasn’t watching.

“Jimin, what the fu-” you began.

“Moan. Loud. Make it believable.” he whispered. “If he thinks I’m fucking your brains out in here he’s going to lose his shit.”

“Jimin why do you have a boner?” you hissed.

“Y/N.” he scoffed. “I am absolutely team Namjoon okay? But I am a man, and a beautiful woman was just grinding on my dick. Sue me.”

“I-”

“It doesn’t mean I’m into you or anything, but that was hot. I’m not going to try anything but I can’t stop my anatomy from functioning properly. You can’t tell me you’re not a little turned on.” he grumbled, removing his hands from your shoulders and stepping back so you could peel yourself off the door.

“Okay. You’re right. Now what?” you asked.

“Be a good girl and moan for me.” he winked, sitting on your bed and pulling out his phone.

“Fuck, Jimin!” you did your best impression of a moan despite how uncomfortable you felt, sitting beside him and holding a pillow in your lap.

Jimin’s eyebrows shot up.

“Damn. Okay.” he whispered, then got louder as he groaned. “Fuck baby right there. Mmm… your pretty little mouth feels so good wrapped around my cock.”

You stifled a giggle and shoved his arm and he shot you the cockiest grin you’d ever seen on him, which was saying something. Jimin continued to moan loudly, until he decided it was time for things to kick up a notch.

“Okay, show time baby.” he winked, and stood up.

He began shoving your headboard against the wall rhythmically. It was loud enough it shook you, so you knew Namjoon could hear.

“Fuck, YN. You’re so tight.” Jimin groaned, sending you a pointed look.

“Ugh! Right there!” you whined loudly.

“Who owns this pussy?” Jimin smirked, wiggling his eyebrows at you.

“Jimin!” you cried out, then tried not to laugh when Jimin dramatically fanned himself.

“Harder! Oh god don’t stop!” you called out, and Jimin gave you a thumbs up while he continued shoving your headboard against the wall.

“Are you going to cum on Daddy’s cock?” Jimin grinned.

“Fuck fuck fuck!” you screamed, honestly a little impressed with how realistic you sounded.

Jimin joined in your chorus with loud moans of his own, and stopped slamming your headboard against the wall. You suddenly got very embarrassed he’d heard such intimate sounds out of you, even if they were fake. Your cheeks burned cherry red and you avoided Jimin’s gaze.

“Damn. That was hot.” he whisper-laughed, knocking his shoulder into yours as he sat beside you.

“Shut up.” you giggled. “Kinda was though.”

“If things don’t work out with Joonie, call me.” he wiggled his eyebrows.

“Please, you couldn’t handle all this.” you joked, gesturing to yourself.

“You’re right, you’re an emotional basket case and I am not as patient as Namjoon.” he laughed, flinching when you punched his arm.

“Asshole.” you giggled.

“Come here.” he suddenly said, reaching for your hair and messing it up.

“What the fuck!” you hissed.

“Do you want to look fucked or do you want to look like we faked it?” he narrowed his eyes.

“True.” you agreed, reaching over and doing the same to his soft tendrils.

“Ooh, scratch my neck. Wait no. Should I walk out there shirtless and have you scratch my back?” he smirked evilly.

“Take your shirt off.” you instructed.

“Damn round two already? You’re insatiable!” Jimin chuckled.

You rolled your eyes and waited for him to rid himself of his t-shirt, then thought about the most realistic angle. You put your hands up to assess, turning and standing and checking your options. You finally decided the only way to get realistic marks was to act it out.

“I think you’re gonna have to get on top of me.” you concluded.

“I thought you’d never ask.” he smirked, exaggeratedly rolling his bottom lip between his teeth.

“Shut up, I just want it to look real.” you hissed, laying back while Jimin hovered over you.

“Suuure.” he grinned, looking down into your eyes from his position above you. He smiled.

You wrapped your arms around his torso and dug your nails experimentally into his back. Jimin shivered involuntarily. You bit your lip to conceal a giggle and raked your nails down his back, making sure to dig into the skin a little so the marks would stay. A quiet whimper left Jimin’s throat.

“You’re enjoying this too much.” you accused.

“You’re probably right.” he laughed. “I’m going straight home to jack off after this.”

“You’re disgusting.” you laughed.

Jimin shrugged unapologetically. “You should probably do it a few more times to make it look like I fucked you real good.”

“You just like it.” you laughed.

“That too.” he agreed.

He had a point though, so you repeated the action a few more times, desperately trying to ignore the noises that erupted from Jimin as you did. If you weren’t so in love with Namjoon you’d probably jump Jimin’s bones at this point. You did your best not to focus on his toned abs when he finally rose from you, allowing you to inspect your marks.

“Looks good.” you smiled, giving him a thumbs up.

An idea struck you so you shimmied your pants off and slipped on some pajama shorts and changed into Jimin’s shirt. He nodded in approval.

“Show time.” he sing songed, pulling your bedroom door open and sauntering down the hallway.

You followed him, noting Joon on the couch watching some new Netflix documentary. You didn’t say anything as you breezed past him, following Jimin into the kitchen to brew some tea.

“I need a snack to replenish my energy. You really wore me out, baby girl.” Jimin teased, pinching your behind and causing you to yelp.

“Do you want me to make something?” you asked.

“Mmm… cooking for me? Maybe we could use some leftover whipped cream for round two.” he suggested playfully.

“Stop.” you giggled, covering your face.

“I really should get going though, it’s getting late and I have to work tomorrow. I wish I could just stay here, in your bed. I don’t think we’d get any sleep though.” he chuckled.

“Let me change out of your shirt real quick.” you offered but he grabbed your wrist and pulled you against his body.

“Mmm… keep it. Looks better on you anyway. Plus, I wanna show off my battle scars.” he wiggled his eyebrows.

Namjoon got up off the couch, turned off the tv, and stalked to his room, slamming the door shut without a word. You looked to Jimin in surprise. He smirked victoriously.

“Check. Mate.” he grinned.

“He’s probably just annoyed because we’re being obnoxious.” you sighed.

“Trust me, Y/N. He’s jealous and filled with rage. If looks could kill, you’d be planning my funeral right now.” Jimin assured you.

“If you say so… do you really not want this back?” you asked.

“Nah. I got a spare in the car.” he smiled, “good luck, okay? Don’t chicken out if the opportunity presents itself. You like him. He likes you. You guys could be happy. Let yourself be happy, yeah?”

You wrapped your arms around his neck and let yourself be comforted by your friend’s words and his warm embrace. He hugged you back even tighter, then pulled away, holding you at arms length so he could look into your eyes.

“I mean it. Let yourself have this. Don’t be scared.” he coached gently.

“Thank you, Jiminie. I love you.” you smiled up at him.

“I love you too. Now go get your man.” he grinned, walking out the door and leaving you alone in the living room.

You took a deep breath and walked down the hall past Namjoon’s room, slowing as you heard crashing from inside. You knocked lightly on the door.

“Joon? You okay? Did something break?” you questioned, hand on the knob.

The door flung open and you were greeted with Namjoon’s chest as he towered over you. The look he gave you made you feel even smaller though.

“I dropped something. Not like you can complain about my noise level, Y/N.” he huffed.

“I just wanted to make sure you were okay.” you said quietly.

“I’m fine. I actually think it might be time for me to find somewhere else to live.” he stated.

You froze, panic filling your chest.

“What?! Why?” you squeaked, tears welling in your eyes despite your urge for them to stay away.

“If you’re going to be seeing Jimin, it’s clear that you guys need your own space. I don’t want to listen to you have sex with him all the time, and I’m sure you’d appreciate the privacy.” Namjoon sighed, avoiding your eyes.

“But I… we… it’s not-” you tried, but your mouth wasn’t cooperating with your racing mind.

“It’s fine. It’s about time you got a boyfriend. It’s probably weird that we’re both single and living together.” Joon shrugged.

“No it’s not!” you argued, a pout on your lips.

“Don’t you want to fuck your boyfriend in peace without having to worry about your roommate hearing?” Joon challenged.

“He’s not my boyfriend!” you blurted out.

“What?” Joon tilted his head in confusion.

“He’s not… he’s not my boyfriend. We didn’t have sex. We only pretended to. Jimin had me convinced that if I pretended to be dating him that you’d get jealous and that you’d make a move because I’m too scared to. I told him you didn’t like me and that it wasn’t going to work but he wouldn’t shut up about it, he kept saying-” you began but Namjoon cut you off.

“You made out with Jimin on our couch and pretended to have sex with him to try and make me jealous?” he clarified.

“I know it’s stupid I told him-” you rambled on, wringing your hands together anxiously.

“You didn’t fuck him.” Joon clarified one more time.

“No.” you confirmed.

“Oh thank god.” Joon sighed in relief, and before you knew it, his lips were on yours.

Your eyes widened in shock but you soon melted into his embrace, your entire body alive and buzzing with adrenaline. Joon guided you towards the wall until your back hit it with a gentle thud and he pushed his body closer to yours until you were flush against each other. His hands came to cup your face, thumb rubbing soft circles on your cheek. He pulled away, but remained just centimeters from your lips.

“That was extremely immature and childish.” he chided, “But it worked. I wanted to kill him.”

“Mmm…” you hummed happily.

“I couldn’t stand the thought of another man kissing you,” he sighed, letting his lips gently brush against your own. “Another man marking you,” he whispered, his kisses moving to your neck and sucking his own marks to claim you. “Another man touching you…” he trailed off, hand running down your side until his fingers brushed against your nipple, barely concealed by the thin fabric of Jimin’s shirt. Joon’s soft touch froze for a moment.

Without warning, he ripped the shirt you were wearing over your head and tossed it aside, revealing your shorts and barely-there bra. He smirked in satisfaction. “I don’t like you wearing another man’s clothes either.” he purred, bringing his lips back to the skin of your neck and allowing them to travel down to your collarbones.

Upon hearing your real whimpers, you couldn’t believe how fake you’d sounded earlier. The noises Namjoon managed to elicit from you were real, raw, and desperate. Namjoon grinned against the flesh of your collar bones, moving his kisses even lower to the swell of your breasts. Namjoon had fantasised about these breasts more times than he’d care to admit, and he was about to bust in his pants now that his fantasies were coming true. He was determined to give your body the attention and admiration it deserved.

He reached behind you and unsnapped the flimsy bralette you were wearing, letting it tumble to the floor unceremoniously. You shivered as the cool air hit your nipples, causing them to perk and harden. Or maybe that was the effect Namjoon had on you. You didn’t find time to ponder the reason because soon, he had those delectable, pillowy lips wrapped around one of the hardened buds, nimble fingers rolling the other.

A haggard moan left your lips and your head lolled back, hitting the wall while Namjoon rolled his tongue over your sensitive flesh. He let his teeth graze it gently, and your body jolted off the wall closer to his. He took the opportunity to guide you towards his bed, shoving you down onto the mattress. Your body bounced with the impact and he hovered over you, ripping his shirt off and tossing it aside. Your eyes locked on the smooth planes of his stomach. Your mouth watered as your gaze trailed lower to the trail of hair that led to the part of him you’d been dreaming about since you caught him with his hand wrapped around it.

You reached up and pulled him back down to you and Namjoon took the opportunity to slip his hand between your bodies, slipping it under the fabric of your shorts and panties.

“Mmm… so wet. Is this because of me, baby?” he grinned.

You thought about teasing him and saying it was Jimin but you’d waited too long for this moment to fuck it up now.

“All for you, Joonie.” you whined, bucking your hips up to get some friction.

“Mmm.. that’s not my name baby doll.” he smirked.

“Fuck… daddy.” you whimpered.

“That’s right baby girl.” he praised, “You want daddy to make you feel good?”

“Please.” you begged.

Namjoon smirked and began rubbing lazy circles on your clit, spreading your juices along the swollen nub. You groaned, leaning your head back. It felt so good, but it wasn’t enough. You needed to be filled.

“Fuck me, daddy.” you whined.

“So needy.” he tutted, dragging your shorts and panties off and tossing them to the floor.

He shimmied out of his shorts and boxers and your eyes locked on his cock. Thick, long, and leaking precum. Your tongue involuntarily darted along your lower lip, wetting the surface as you stared at Namjoon’s length with desire. You leaned up and tentatively licked at the tip, gathering the pre-cum on your tongue before swallowing and humming happily. Joon closed his eyes and enjoyed the feeling for a moment before pushing your shoulders back.

“We can try all that later. I want to cum inside of you, and I won’t last if you wrap those pretty lips around me.” he sighed, “but let’s get you ready, hm?”

You nodded and laid back against the pillows while Namjoon slipped two fingers in your drenched hole. You moaned loudly, finally feeling something fill your aching pussy. Joon curled his fingers and pumped them in and out of you, thumb rubbing circles on your clit. His lips crashed against yours again, swallowing up your moans and whines while he finger fucked you. The ridges of his fingers sliding against your velvety walls had you in a state of bliss. It wasn’t long before the familiar fire built deep in your belly and you were rocketing over the edge. Joon worked you through your high, never relenting in the slightest until you whimpered and pushed his hand away.

“Are you ready for me, baby?” he asked.

“Yes. Yes.” you let out breathlessly.

Joon smiled and rolled the condom onto his shaft before slowly sliding inside of you. Your eyes rolled back in your head at the way Namjoon fit perfectly in your walls. You could feel everything, like he was made to be inside of you. The stretch burned for a moment, but Namjoon remained still until you were comfortable. Once you gave him the signal that it was okay to move, Namjoon held nothing back.

His hips snapped into yours at a merciless pace, making your body bounce with the impact and incoherent gibberish leave your lips. Your arms found purchase around his neck while he rode you like there was no tomorrow. Namjoon had a lot of pent up sexual frustration when it came to you and he had every intention of unleashing it on you. He brought your nipple in his mouth once more.

You didn’t think you could last long with the way Namjoon was hitting that spot inside of you with every thrust, every time his cock landed against your walls it was just right and you were a mess beneath him in minutes, writing against his movements, bucking your hips up to meet his.

A chorus of his name slipped from you like a prayer, or a chant. You didn’t know. All you knew was that Namjoon felt so good and the only thing you could focus on was him and the impending orgasm he was unleashing inside of you with his relentless thrusts. Your nails dug into his back and your walls clenched around him as your orgasm built until you were just over the edge.

Namjoon stilled inside of you, and the orgasm ebbed away. A sob escaped your throat and you looked at Namjoon in confusion. He slipped out of your heat and you felt empty at the loss. He simply smirked and moved his head to begin kissing at your inner thighs.

“Joon, what-” you tried to ask, panting.

“Mmm… only good girls get to cum.” he hummed against your thigh. “Teasing daddy by grinding on your little friend… you weren’t being a very good girl, were you, baby doll?”

“But I…” you whined.

“I know why you did it.” he nodded in agreement, “and I agree. I needed a push. But I still didn’t like seeing your sweet little cunt grinding down on him. That pussy is mine.” he growled, possessiveness filling his eyes.

“Yes, I’m all yours daddy.” you sighed.

“That’s right.” he smirked.

He moved back up your body, leaving a trail of kisses as he went until his lips met yours again. His fingers brushed teasingly along your inner thigh and dipped in your heat, pumping in and out of you at an agonizingly slow place. His knuckles grazing your walls, his hot breath in your ear, whispering dirty things like a secret for just you to know, it was all too much.

Namjoon brought you to the edge over and over again before ripping your orgasm away from you each time. Tears welled in your eyes at the frustration. You were a complete mess beneath him and he only smirked in satisfaction, lazily rubbing patterns on your sensitive clit.

“Mmm.. does my baby want to cum?” he cooed.

“Fuck. Yes. Please. Joon please please please.” you nearly cried.

“Hmmm.. do you think you’ve earned it? Has daddy punished you enough? You sure did like showing off and making me angry.”

“Please, I’m sorry. I’m yours, only yours. PLEASE.” you whined.

Namjoon hummed and seemed to think deeply about your request. He nodded in approval and soon he was pounding into you again like he’d never stopped. It didn’t take you long to reach your end after that, so riled up and sensitive from the edging. You were so close, so close again.

“Cum for daddy.” Namjoon breathed in your ear, his voice low and husky.

You screamed his name as your vision went white hot and your back arched off the bed. Blissful euphoria enveloped your whole body while Joon rode out your high with you, soon meeting his own end. You were panting breathlessly to the point your lungs were burning as you both came back down. Joon discarded the condom and wrapped his arms around you, gently smoothing your hair away from your face and whispering encouraging things to you.

“You did so well for me baby.” he praised, kissing your forehead.

You nodded, snuggling closer into his frame. You were too exhausted to formulate a reply. Your brain was jello after the fucking of a lifetime you’d just recieved. Joon held you quietly, hands roaming tenderly to soothe your aching muscles. You leaned into his touch and when your heart finally returned to its’ normal rhythm, you looked up into his eyes.

“You know, I’m kind of thankful for Jimin.” Joon spoke.

“Hmm?” you questioned.

“I think if it weren’t for you assholes trying to make me jealous, I would’ve never pulled my head out of my ass.” he sighed. “I was just so scared that you wouldn’t feel the same way and I didn’t want to ruin everything we had, you know? You’re so important to me, Y/N. I don’t ever want to lose you.”

“You won’t ever lose me.” you confirmed, fire in your eyes and passion in your voice. “But I get it. I was scared too.”

“Every time I see you, I get these words stuck in my head. All it is is 8 letters and I’ve wanted to tell you for so long, Y/N, but I was terrified of being rejected.” he admitted, eyes downcast.

“Joonie?” you whispered warily, moving your head back so you could look into his eyes.

“Yeah, baby?”

“I love you.”

“I love you.” he smiled, kissing the tip of your nose

You bit your lip to try and hide the smile threatening to cover your face while looking into Namjoon’s eyes.

“But if Jimin ever puts his hands on you again I will kill him.” Namjoon grumbled.

You giggled and hid your face in his chest.

“I love you.” you repeat, unable to find a better response, and to be honest, it just felt good to say it out loud after all this time.

Joon’s grumpy expression morphed into one of fondness and affection, he caressed your cheek in his large hand, bringing his lips gently to yours in a chaste kiss.

“I love you too.” he sighed happily. . “So very much.”

#kim namjoon #namjoon #bts #smut #namjoon smut #namjoon x reader #rm #rm x reader #rm smut #bts smut

379 notes · View notes

wordsfromthesol · 4 years ago

Text

Research Paper

Author: @wordsfromthesol Pairing: Tim Drake x Reader Summary: You and Tim get assigned to complete a research paper together. The two of you end up spending way more time together than originally planned. Warnings: Cursing and balls of fluff Word Count: 2k A/N: I still have a few requests, they are coming I just haven’t had too much time to write new stuff...so I’ve been posting old stories I’ve already completed.

The two of you sat at your dining room table, typing away at various research sites and scribbling down miscellaneous notes that could be helpful later. Finally, you looked up at your silent partner.

“So, why the rush to get this research paper done?”

“I’m busy. This is when I have time to do it.”

“Hm –” Before you could continue the thought, Tim cut you off.

“Look, I know you don’t want to be paired with the weird kid. Let’s just finish this and you don’t have to talk to me anymore.”

“Woah there Tim, relax. I don’t know anything about you. Especially not enough to qualify you as the weird kid.” You watched his face turn a slight shade of crimson. “Ya’know, there’s only 20 kids in this class. I bet if you actually talked to some of them you would make friends.” You got up from your seat and sauntered into the kitchen. “So weird kid, you want something to drink?”

“Oh…uhm…I’m fine.” You chuckled to yourself as he stuttered through his response.

“Well, if you insist on completing this in one night, I need some wine. Sure you don’t want a glass?”

“Okay…” Tim hesitantly responded.

The bottle was gone and you began to spiral down a YouTube worm hole. Clicking video after video, ending up on the ever popular topic of vigilantes. “Why do you think they do it?” You mumbled out loud, forgetting your research partner was still sitting across from you.

“Why does…” Tim tugged at your computer and glared at the screen before him. The video was paused on an image of Nightwing and Red Robin. He remembered that night. Mr. Freeze had armed some kind of mass freeze ray in the subway system. There were 5 casualties that night. His voice echoed throughout the room. “Sometimes the police aren’t enough. They have too much red tape or not enough training to handle certain criminals.”

“There’s just so many of them…”

“I think they need each other. Each one making sure the others don’t cross a line they can’t come back from. Keeping them responsible for their actions.”

“You think they aren’t just inherent do-gooders running around?”

“No. I don’t. This city is a toxin, no one born of it is inherently good. Everyone comes to a crossroads, some chose to go left and others, right. Once one goes to the left, you may never go back. However, those who chose to go right are always tempted to take a shortcut to the left. Even knowing they could never return.”

“Dang…you should write a book or something Tim.”

“Just a lot of experience I suppose?” You furrowed your brows and shot him a questioning look. “I was…uhm…rescued by Batman awhile back. Though not before my parents were poisoned.”

“I’m so sorry…” Your eyes cast to the ground as your hand reached across the table, landing atop of his. “I didn’t know.”

Tim brushed it off, “I didn’t expect you to know. I don’t advertise it. Anyways, how’s the ACTUAL research coming along.” You rolled your eyes and turned back towards your computer.

Tim realized he hadn’t heard from you in awhile, so he glanced up from his computer. You were asleep at the table. His eyes shot over to the clock, 4:07am. “Shit.” He mumbled under his breath. Tim then sat there debating what to do for several minutes before pushing his chair back and taking you up in his arms. He laid you on your bed, draping the covers over you, before heading back into the dining room. Almost as soon as Tim sat back at his computer, his phone buzzed.

Don’t forget to get some sleep tonight, baby bird.

Dick had started sending reminders almost every night. Tim debated ignoring it, until more messages came in. Jason, Damian, Barbara, Stephanie, even Cassandra had texted him. Dick truly went all out tonight.

I swear if I have to listen to Dick complain about you not sleeping one more time, I will lose it. Go the fuck to sleep, replacement.

Drake, I was just informed to remind you to sleep tonight. May this serve as that reminder.

Dick just let me know you haven’t slept the past two nights. The body can only properly survive without three nights of sleep. Please sleep.

Timothy Jackson Drake. If you do not sleep tonight, I will be forced to take drastic action. One word: computer.

Don’t make me come knock you out.

Tim quickly sent a group message to everyone. Everyone calm down. It’s only been a day and a half. I’m going to sleep now. And Steph, don’t even look at my fucking computer. Tim sighed and threw himself on your couch, welcoming some much-needed sleep.

You woke up very confused. You glanced around your room, you definitely did not remember going to bed. You threw your legs over the side and noticed you were still completely dressed. What the fuck. Hesitantly, you opened your bedroom door. Your eyes darted around the room, noting the two computer still at the dining room table. Tip-toeing over to the living room, you saw Tim passed out on the couch, his phone buzzing beside him. You attempted to end the call, but it answered instead. Shit shit shit. You leapt as far from Tim as you could before whispering into the phone.

“Look I didn’t mean to answer this, but Tim is asleep…and he strikes me as the kind of person who doesn’t get much –” The man on the other end cut you off.

“I’m sorry, who is this? Why do you have my brother’s phone?”

“Oh…uhm…I’m in class with him. We were partnered on a research paper. He slept…is sleeping here.” You heard the man sigh before he continued.

“Do me a favor and try not to wake him, but tell him Dick called when he does get up.”

“Uh…sure…”

“Oh and put his phone on silent…actually I’ll just block the calls from here. Oh and thanks...I didn’t actually get your name.”

“Y/N.”

“Right, thanks again Y/N.”

You hung up the phone on the weirdest conversation ever and set it next to his computer. You snatched yours up and went back into your bedroom. Might as well get some work done while you waited for Tim to wake up. A few more hours passed and you heard footsteps coming from your living room. Thank god, I so need coffee. You threw open the door and saw Tim standing over his computer.

“Oh, uhm, sorry I slept here last night.”

You waved off the apology, “No problem. What time did we stop?”

“I noticed you were asleep at like 4 in the morning. So I…” Tim ran his finger through his hair, “I just figured the bed was more comfortable.” You smirked as you watched his face turn crimson. Stronger than he looks apparently. “Then I thought it was probably best not to leave that late…so I just crashed on the couch.”

“So we didn’t finish then? As in you better not have finished it without me.”

Tim held up his hands in defense. “No no, I stopped once I saw you were asleep.”

“Well…want coffee and some...” you glanced at the clock. It was nearly noon, “brunch I guess.”

“Oh, uh…if you’re offering? Then sure, I guess.”

“Great, then we can just finish up today.” You made your way to the kitchen, “Oh your brother called.”

Tim’s eyebrows furrowed, “which one?”

“You have multiple? Uh…Dick, I think he said.”

“Yeah, three of them. Do you mind if I call him back?”

You shook your head as you put on the coffee. Tim grabbed the phone from the table and went into your bathroom.

“Dick? Is something wrong?”

“Nah, Alfred just told me you hadn’t been back to the Manor yet. Wanted to make sure we didn’t need to send search and rescue.”

“I’m fine. Listen, do you mind if you cover my patrol tonight?”

“Oh, hot date with Y/N?”

“How do you – nevermind. No, we are finishing a project.”

“Hm, whatever you want to tell yourself Timmy. She seemed sweet on you though.”

“How – who even says that anymore? Are you 60 years old?”

“Awe, look who’s deflecting.”

“Bye Dick!” Tim screamed into the phone before hanging up on his brother.

After brunch was had, the two of you got back to work. However, it didn’t take long for you to get sidetracked.

“Alright, if I sit in this damn chair for another minute I’m going to have permanent back problems. I’m moving to the couch.” You huffed out, before scooping up your computer and plopping down sideways with your back against the armrest. Surprisingly, Tim joined you, propping is feet up on the coffee table. Once the two of you moved to the couch, no more work got done.

“So you close with your family?” You began the barrage of questions. People often called you out for being nosy, but you still couldn’t help it.

“Oh,” Tim glanced up from his computer. “Yeah, I suppose. Too close sometimes.”

“Eh, they wouldn’t be family otherwise. I gather you have a big one?”

“What are we playing 20 questions?”

“Just curious…”

Tim huffed, but began to answer your question anyways. “Yeah, I guess. Though it’s a family forged from bonds, not blood.”

“I’d say that’s the better kind. You chose to stay with and support them, as opposed to being guilted into it because they’re family.”

“Well that clearly struck a chord.”

You shrugged it off, “So three brothers. Blood or bond?”

“Well…a forced bond? Bruce adopted all of us, except Damian I guess.”

You continued to pose questions to your newfound friend, though you found getting most answers was like pulling teeth. Eventually, you made progress and after a few hours you closed your laptop, which had been long since asleep, and tossed it to the floor. “I vote take away and a movie.”

“But we haven’t finished.” Tim argued.

“And I don’t think we are going to tonight. Come on, we still have a month. Relax a little, we’re like 75% done anyways.”

“I –” Before he could protest further you pulled yourself off the couch and reached for your phone.

“I vote Thai.”

You heard a sigh come from the other end of the couch, “Sounds good.” A smile grazed your face as you placed the order and settled comfortably back on the couch. You turned on the movie and didn’t realize you were laying half on Tim until the doorbell roused you. This time it was your turn to don a shade of red. Thankfully, it was too dark for Tim to see.

The food was gone and the movie continued to play in the background, but the two of you were fast asleep laying against each other. That was, until Tim heard a knock on the window. He looked up to see the familiar costumes of his older brothers. He gently held you in place with one arm, while stretching to grab his phone with the other. Tim quickly typed a message.

I’m clearly alive. Leave me the fuck alone.

Tim saw Dick smirk through the window just before a bright white light shone through. Tim’s phone buzzed.

Look Timbers found someone to put up with him.

Of course Jason just had to send that in the group message. Tim typed out his response.

I’m muting this conversation until further notice. Also I’m never telling you guys where I am ever again.

That’s alright, I’m sure Y/N won’t mind telling me. We had a great conversation earlier.

Tim ignored the baited message Dick sent and threw his phone to the other side of the couch before settling back into the comfortable position at your side.

289 notes · View notes

sword-of-summer · 4 years ago

Note

All of them answer every question fuck you

ahahaha no i respectfully deny your "fuck you" and i accept the ask and so-

i am 5'10", and i don't wish to be taller or shorter- i am the perfect height for hugs and messy hair, and yep, i like it here-

dream pet would be a mix of golden retriver and a husky called Holly and a chonky cat called Loki- yes ofcourse my future kids have names everyone should name their future pets-

ripped jeans/black pants with a Darth Vader tshirt or a Ethnic Fusion Kurta with black sneakers/artificial leather slip-ons, and if it's cold, a black jacket open obviously- and a black wristwatch i love my black wristwatch.

favourite video game was Clash of Clans and going even back, GTA Vice City and, the og- MARIIOOOO

three things/people are Oreos, Nutella and Pizza. The Holy Trinity-

"Beware me my fingers are smeared with chicken popcorn grease"

you didn't mention an opinion, @chunkybirb, so imma give my opinion on Vanilla ice cream and Nutella- ANYONE WHO HADN'T COMBINED THESE TWO COMBINE THESE TWO THEY ARE FUCKING AWESOME

im either phlegmatic or melancholic bruh idk maybe ik or maybe not

im v v v v ticklish

not an allergy, but an intense hatred for ketchup- i vomit if it gets too close to me fuck you ketchup

im heterosexual

any between tea and coffee but full milk coffee (ik, kill me), never had cocoa- but i love a chocolate or nutella milkshake

both. both is good. (cat and dog)

i would be an elf cause hell yeah, knowledge and wisdom

favourite youtuber is Samay Raina, a stand up comedian turned youtuber who is just awesome-

as i mentioned in 1., i am 5'10"

i would not change my name cause it's the coolest fucking name ever, i am Tanay, and Tanay in Hindi means Son, and my parents literally named their son Son, and hell yeah i like it

i forgot how much i weigh- last i checked it was 75 kilos, but ive gained weight since 2019 so yep, gotta walk in the mornings

yes i believe in metaphysicality cause one- it seems cool- second- me and @theclassyghost discussed a metaphysical life theory that i really really like and metaphysicality gives preservation of knowledge so i believe in spirits

SPACE. SPACE. SPACE.

im not that religious, no

pet peeves no well nah not really

nocturnal def nocturnal i sleep at 4.50 anyway hehehehe

fav constellation is Cassiopeia

fav star is Sirius tho

what the fuck are ball jointed dolls

i do have a fear of losing people that's just anxiety i guess

yep, global warming is real

never thought that much about reincarnation tbh but maybe, i do

fav movie is Spider Man : Into The SpiderVerse and Inception and The Dark Knight Rises and Revenge of The Sith and yes, for my indian gang, 3 Idiots and Gully Boy

yep i get scared v v v easily

i have had no pets but i plan to once i grow up

@chunkybirb 's blog is fucking cool awesome and *chef's kiss* a masterpiece

blue calms me. i love blue.

live in Norway cause pretty lights, snow, and less people than this overpopulated country i am in

born in Mumbai, India

v v v dark brown like it's almost black but no it's dark brown

introvert

horoscopes and zodiacs, i do read them, never believed that much tbh-

HUGS I LOVE HUGS

i really wanna visit my brother i haven't met him in a long time i really wanna play cricket w him just like old times

my sister- she's annoying but well i care for her

nah

tattoos idk bruh im okay idk may get one or may not get one

nope, smoking is ewwww *vomits*

ah my crush- she's cool [ if she exists

when the chalk doesn't write on the board but goes iiiiiieeee I HATE THAT

a sound i love is rain pitter pattering i just hhhhhh sends me into happiness

nope fatass here

favourite actors have to be eddie redmayne, oscar issac and pedro pascal- and margot robbie and winona ryder in the actresses section also yes, elliot page

bruh already answered in 30.

im okayish!! spotify and tumblr, cool combo-

my hair are okay being black for me

yesterday, monday, from 6.40 to 6.50

music

uhhh naah not that i know of

well in Rick Riordan's Magnus Chase books, the sword of Frey aka Sumarbrander TALKS and demands to be called Jack, so here i am

bakwaas, music and comfy

yep, i believe in evolution

unfollow on hate and when they dm me sending nsfw pics ugh why are people like that

follow, well, i like people and they seem cool, so i follow them

fav kind of person is the one who'll sit with me for hours not even talking and just vibing to music

fav animals are beavers, doggos and cats

three fav blogs are @chunkybirb, @theclassyghost, @little-boats-on-a-lake, @aredhel-of-gondolin, @sue-me-imbadass, @alleenkaas, @my-ackerman, @brrrrrrrrrrzone

fav emoticon has to be ☹ this me seeing my stupidity outrank others

fav meme has to be Butternut is a master of psychological manipulation

INTP

Libraaa let's go

no dog, i have

black darth vader tshirt, black pants, black sneakers and black wrist watch

i have no selfies my phone has no cameras i live in eternal darkness

what the fuck are platform shoes

i, uhhh, i remember weird things like what i drew in class in 3rd while i was supposed to be doing english

lazy ass here, no front flips possible

i like birds they fly

nope i don't Iike swimming i like blankets

wrapped up in blankets reading books sounds better than both

ketchup

hyperspace travel

nope none

reading writing eating sleeping

my friend

tumblr seems cool

i have around 60-70 idk

yes i can run but why

yes they do but what's the fun in that

nope I'd fall over

sapphire let's go

koala bear or panda

sunflower or the one on a lemon tree

ketchup store

one cup of coffee is enough, tysm

read minds that sounds cool cool yeaaahh

nope never wore it a black clothes guy here BatMan

winter winter all year long

i don't know and i don't wanna try

i don't know and i don't wanna know

everyone cause they are better than me

bookstores cause bookstores any bookstores

sneakers, black onez

apparently some gas bitches mixed up to form a planet

non vegetarian but i partake meat just twice or thrice in two weeks

i don't know they don't seem like liking

naaaaaaaah

bugs ew

spiders ew

about the fact that i come off as arrogant and overconfident while in reality it's just that my communication skills suck

i can draw averagely whenever im in a mood

this thing im answering but i like answering it

uhhhhhhh brain freeze- idk bruh questions are good they give knowledge

yep, while sleeping

ahh yes calming, they are

cloudy days cause fucking cool vibes

hehehe wouldn't you like to know, weatherboy

CumuloNimbus i really like it's name yknow nimBUS

dark blue, dark blue always or black

naaaah no freckles

fav thing is when they laugh and it's just happy and we're both laughing like shitheads but who cares we're rebelling against depressing life and we laugh

both. both is good [ fruits and vegetables

sleep but i have to answer 170 questions cause @chunkybirb

sky sky sky it's my blog's header duh uh sKy

sweet and sour candy. SWEET AND SOUR CANDY.

dim lights it makes me feel cool

ahhh so here we go- Mooncalfs, Thunderbirds, Phoenixes, Sphinxes, Dragons that seem to be Space Nebulae, and more and more and more

i really feel like a boomer sometimes

i love everything about this site/app it makes me feel happy cause i like the people and the posts

uhhhhh i think too much about everything cause i just do. i like thinking

"He's dead, guys. For the sake of The Force, please watch Star Wars now he wanted to discuss it with you" actually no i would just say "A big shoutout to Garlic Bread he loved Garlic Bread"

myself cause i should be sleeping but sleep is for the weak and i am the weak and the strong i am a paradox-

that i obsess too much on things and try involving people it never works out

nope. had braces for 4 years, that beat out teeth showing smiles

i prefer computer-tv ahahahahaha

never tried them, so IDK

naaaaah not motion sickness- never travelled by sea so idk seasickness

lobed ears

yep i believe that deeds do count in life and beyond

idk bruh i don't believe in physical attraction too much- bodies are fake- mentally/metaphysically tho, im a 7

ahhhhh many many Stupid Genius, Tani, Tanu, Tanya

i still do-

i really want to talk to a therapist. converse. and discover.

im both, i am both.

10:1 is the ratio- giving 10, receiving 1

uhhh nothing just when i am right and people use the old "disrespect" argument

3, Hindi, Marathi, English

girls

uhh no i am not

my hair i love them everyone says things about my hair but i love them

knowledge vibes i give, someone tells me- and that's all i ever wanted

anyone i know tbh, my mutuals, my friends, my discord friends

ahhh no i wouldn't but i wish i was born 20 years earlier

bleh bloo, neither like nor dislike

i don't know if i have one

i don't know, haven't had physical contact in a long long long time in a galaxy far far away

the above point stands but i would like to ig

anything i write, 3 hours later, i instantly hate just idk why

anything i write

that i am normal no i am not and i am not okay hahahahaha

65-70 ish people

somewhere around-

many many many don't ask please but okay if you do ask

somewhat

uhhhhh idr exactly but i won't tell in public duh uh

mediummm hairrrr

last year lockdown i became harry potter

i don't know buddy i seriously don't know

yep i do cause knowledge i like knowledge

naaah never tried

no i definitely cannot stand on my hands or my head for more than 30 seconds

yep, im pretty sure i answered most of them correctly-

og link-

#personal #ask #tumblr

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olderthannetfic · 4 years ago

Note

an anti-anti blog I liked recently posted that they are against rpf "because it counts as stepping over the boundary of fiction into objectifying real, specific individuals, and we consider it disrespectful to treat real people as if they’re playthings in the same way fictional characters are." I understand this is their squick, but I felt this was a bit much, so long as people aren't sending stuff to celebrities and just making it for fan spaces & for fans & I wondered your thoughts. Thanks!

My thoughts are: LOL.

People want to fuck hot celebrities. News at 11!

A lot of celebrity culture heavily plays into this, whether it’s tabloids obsessing over who’s dating whom or kpop groups pretending they’re all single to not “ruin the fantasy”. Somehow, that’s fine and normal, but RPF kept to fandom spaces and not shoved under the person’s nose is crossing a line? Puh-lease!

Fantasizing about fictional characters is fine not because they’re fictional but because fantasizing is fine.

A lot of people say that. When push comes to shove, a lot of them don’t mean it. But I do.

Let me tell you a story: once upon a time, I had this summer school boyfriend who was showing me something on his computer. He was telling me what to type into the address bar, and whoops, a porn site autocompleted. He was super embarrassed, so naturally, I started trying other combos to see if I could find more porn and embarrass him further. He seemed to think I’d be horrified. I was like “LOL, your porn is hella tame!” So he was like “What, like you like weirder porn?”

Through me needling him and mentioning increasingly out-there porn I like, I eventually got out of him his non-tame taste, which was for misogynist M/f rape erotica.

And then I let him tie me up and jerk off on me.

Anyway, the point of this story is that there are tons of perfectly reasonable people who walk around the world having absolutely revolting fantasy lives, and there’s no way you’d know unless you bug them to tell you. If this guy had brought it up on a first date, or even worse when we weren’t dating, of course I would have been creeped out because bringing it up can often cross a line.

Any normal man with normal social skills should know there’s a strong chance a woman will be scared of him if he brings this shit up out of the blue. So a man who does it anyway is either trying to freak me out or has a very different understanding of social norms than I do and may behave in unpredictable ways I don’t like.

But a man who sits in class next to me fantasizing about wearing my skin and never burdens me with this knowledge... How would I ever know? What would it ever matter? It’s neither my problem nor my business until he makes it so.

It fundamentally does not matter if he has a sweet, vanilla fantasy about holding my hand or a Hannibal-tastic one about eating it, whether I find him hot myself or whether I share any of his kinks. Because it’s a fantasy.

Is it somehow tainting me because sexy thoughts are tainted and they get Metaphysical Pervert Goo on me? That’s sure the message I get from people elevating their squicks about this to the level of moral truths.

Tumblr suffers from the misconception that horrifying fantasies are a sign that you’re actually an axe murderer. While it’s true that people who do horrifying things often do have horrifying fantasies, so do lots of other people.

I’ve had more than one person confess tearfully to me about liking whomever that 90s artist was who drew all the fsub consensual snuff/cannibalism art. These were people I was friends with. Normal people. Who are not actually running around eating the neighbors. Some pretty dark stuff is actually pretty commonplace.

Because grotesque fantasies are normal.

So are vanilla fantasies and all other fantasies. And they are all fine because they are fantasies. Even if they involve famous people. Even if they involve non famous people. Even if they involve me.

---

I’m sure some asshole is already typing a response about how, surely, this all means we can have RPF fantasies but shouldn’t post them. My view on that is that merely posting fic to AO3 does not constitute ��bringing it up” with the person you’re writing about. If you write violent rape porn about me and post it there, I’ll probably eventually find it and be kind of freaked out. Or maybe I won’t read it. Or maybe we’ll have the same kinks and I’ll find it hot. IDK. Possibly, that does cross some kind of line if you’re writing about a fellow AO3 user you know is going to be around.

Crossing a line or not, it’s a largely academic point: In practice, nobody really writes fandom RPF unless it’s some explicitly opt-in thing as part of a fic exchange or an in-joke between friends or maybe part of a targeted harassment campaign (though, tbh, this is not something I’ve seen).

The vast majority of RPF on AO3 is about the fake-ass stage personas of mega-famous celebrities. They’re not going to be reading AO3. They’re not going to see your g-rated reader insert fic. They’re not going to see your x-rated One Of The Band Is A Serial Killer And Eats The Others fic. They’re not going to see any of it.

And what’s more, they’re probably far more worried about being chased by paparazzi than about what some fan is doing off in a fandom corner.

So yeah, I think that anti-anti blog is being hypocritical and silly when they say it crosses a line.

Call it a squick because that is what it is.

#fandom meta #Anonymous

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shellyseashell · 4 years ago

Text

LOOKS LIKE WE’RE SOULMATES

@korrasami-valentine-exchange this is my fic for the exchange! I’m Soulmates A. I hope I’m posting it correctly.

Summary: With Valentine’s Day drawing near, Korra and Asami just want to find their soulmate.

Read on ao3

KORRA SLUMPED BACK on her pillow, growling at her computer. She absolutely hated essays. Give her a model to make or a poster to design and she’d have it done in minutes, but essays took her centuries. At this point she would drop out if it meant she’d never have to write another essay.

“Essays again?” Opal, her roommate asked from her bunk below.

“What, like I’d be complaining about anything else right now?” Korra retorted, leaning over to glare at her friend.

“You’re either complaining about essays or not finding your soulmate yet.”

Korra rubbed her wrist, where her soul mark was. It was a dark crescent moon that would change color after she met her soulmate. It was as dark as ever. “I’m totally walking into this, but it’s just unfair! You found Bolin years ago, and Mako found Wu soon after! I’m the only one in our friend group who hasn’t found them.”

Opal sighed and set down her book. They had this conversation practically three times a day, and each time Opal suggested something new that Korra would refuse. Today was no different. Glaring at Korra, her friend stood from her bunk. “Maybe if you didn’t cover your wrists all the time, you’d find them.”

Korra shrank back. She always covered her wrists when she left her dorm, either with bracelets or long sleeves. Most people her age were blissfully happy with their soulmate by now, and she didn’t need the embarrassment of being alone. “What if they don’t even live nearby? What if I go my whole life without finding them? What if — what if they’re dead?” Korra choked out the last question. She didn’t want to think about her soulmate being gone. She didn’t even know them, and yet the idea of never meeting them — of never being able to meet them — was unthinkable.

Opal sighed. “You’re overthinking this. You’ll meet them eventually. It could take a long time, but you won’t live your whole life without them. It’s practically impossible.”

“I hope you’re right.”

ASAMI CURSED AS she dropped her wrench. Twisting around to grab it without getting out from under the car, she half-expected someone to offer her help or ask if she was okay — like her father normally would.

No one came.

Which was expected, since she was the only one currently working, but it still got lonely. Ever since her father had died a year ago, she had been forced to run the mechanics shop with few employees and questionable schedules.

And with no friends, it got incredibly lonely all the time. Before, at least she had had her father and the few other employees. But after he had died, they had all gone to different companies. Companies that could pay better. And so now, she was alone.

Often, she wondered what it would be like to have found her soulmate. To have someone who loved her no matter what. Someone who was destined to be with her, to love her. To have someone always there for her, who wouldn’t ever leave her. It was starting to be a foreign feeling.

Her gaze landed on her gloved wrist that held her soul mark — a dark crescent moon. She checked it daily after work on the off chance that one of her customers was them, and was always looking for someone with the same mark. So far, she’d had no such luck.

Asami went back to her job, thoughts of finding her soulmate in increasingly unrealistic ways filling her mind. When she finished, she pushed herself out from under the car and started putting her tools away, freezing when she caught sight of someone standing in the doorway.

That someone was a very pretty girl. Her dark hair was cut short around her shoulders, framing her face and making her friendly smile and blue eyes look even prettier. Her skin was a warm brown, and she wore sweatpants and a blue Republic City University hoodie. She looked mildly familiar, but she couldn’t place why, and it didn’t explain why her heart started beating faster or why she felt the urge to make sure she had no grease stains on her face.

“I was starting to think no one was here,” said the girl, looking around. “It’s really empty.”

“I’m the only one working today,” Asami responded. “You can always knock, and if no one repsonds just give us a call and we’ll get back to you as soon as we can.”

The girl smiled as Asami approached her. She played with her gloves, nearly taking them off before realizing her soul mark would show, and she didn’t want this girl to see it — didn’t want the pity. So she settled for resting them by her sides.

“What can I do for you?” Asami asked.

The girl jerked her head in the direction of the parking lot. “My car has been making weird noises for the last few days.”

Asami nodded. “Which one is yours?”

The girl led her to her car, an old blue thing. “This is it.”

Asami walked around it, looking at it from different angles. “I’ll probably have to keep it overnight and look at it tomorrow. It’s almost closing time.” Asami looked up and met the girl’s eyes, and quickly looked away, hoping her blush wasn’t noticeable. “How should I contact you?”

“You can call me or send me a text,” the girl said. “I’m Korra, by the way.”

Of course she was Korra, Asami thought as she handed her her phone. Korra was the star player on the soccer team, and incredibly popular. They had a few classes together, but had never really spoken.

“I’m Asami,” she said, taking her phone back from Korra.

“I know,” said Korra, then quickly added, “I mean — it was on the information site. That you owned this place.”

Asami smiled. “I do.”

The silence dragged on, neither making a move to end it.

Korra cleared her throat. “So, you’ll call me when you’re done?”

“Yep.”

“Great, I can’t wait!”

KORRA RAN FORWARD and kicked the ball. And completely missed the goal.

She growled. She didn’t know what was going on, but she’d been off balance ever since she had taken her car to Future Industries Mechanics. She couldn’t shake Asami out of her mind. Her green eyes, the way her hair shone in the light and looked really fluffy. They say she kept playing with her gloves, the grease stain across her cheek. She wanted to know Asami Sato, and she wasn’t sure why.

“That’s the third time you’ve missed the goal today,” her coach, Kuvira, said. “What’s going on?”

Korra sighed and rubbed her forehead. “I don’t know. I’ll do better tomorrow, I promise.”

“You better. We have a game next week, and we need you in top shape,” Kuvira said with crossed arms. Then she lowered her voice and asked, “Did you find your soulmate?”

If it was anyone else, she probably would have punched them, but Kuvira was almost a friend to her — a friend who happened to be her soccer coach, but still. “No. At least, I don’t think so. I haven’t checked.”

“Ah, so you met someone who you hope is your soulmate, but you’re too scared to check in case you’re let down.”

“Yeah . . .”

Kuvira smirked. “Well, then I guess it’s a good thing practice is over.” She jerked her head toward the locker rooms. “Go figure it out. I’m sure it’ll all work out.”

“I’m sure it’ll all work out.” That was the phrase that Korra had been hearing more and more the older she got, the longer she went without a soulmate. Right, because it was easy to think things would work out when you had been happy with your soulmate for years. But to Korra, it was hard to think she’d ever find them. Everyone around her had found theirs, so why couldn’t she? Sure, there were people who found them when they were in their thirties or even older, so she hadn’t lost all hope, but it was still her soulmate. Of course she wanted to find them as soon as she could.

She sighed, and entered one of the shower stalls. She pulled up her sleeve, not expecting anything different, but froze when she saw that her soul mark was not the same as it had been before. Instead of the same pitch black it usually was, it was a mess of different colors. There were pinks and blues and reds and greens and oranges and yellows and colors she couldn’t even name.

A wide grin grew on her face as she realized what this meant. She had found them! She had found her soulmate, after all the years. And she knew just who it was.

Deciding to shower later, she stuffed her belongings back in her bag and ran. She passed by Kuvira in the hall, who simply smiled knowingly.

Korra headed to the parking lot before remembering her car was still with Asami — funny that her car was where she wanted to be, but not her. She hesitated for a second, trying to decide if she wanted to run there or wait for a bus.

“Fuck public transportation,” Korra said, sprinting down the street. She’d get there faster on her own anyway.

Everything blurred around her as she ran, only her destination in her mind. She was dimly aware of traffic and horns honking and annoyed glares around her. Not that she cared. She was going to get to Asami if she had to trample everyone in her path.

By the time she entered the mechanics shop, her bag was hanging off her elbow, and she was sweatier than before, causing her hair and clothes to stick to her. Still, that didn't stop her excitement from creeping into her voice as she yelled, “Asami!” in time with her bag sliding off her arm and hitting the floor.

There was a muffled crash and a curse, and then Asami appeared from behind a car, rubbing her head. Her hair was tied back in a ponytail, a few strands falling into her face. She wore the same mechanics uniform from before, riddled with grease stains.

Asami furrowed her brows. “Korra? Your car isn’t ready yet. I said I’d call you when it was.”

Korra crossed the room, practically flying with excitement. “No, I know. It’s just, well, this.”

She held her wrist up in Asami’s face. Asami looked confused at first, unsure why she was showing her her soul mark, before her eyes widened in realization. Asami scrambled to pull off her work gloves. “Spirits,” she breathed, staring down at her identical wrist. She looked up and met Korra’s eye. “I don’t — how?”

“How are we soulmates?” Korra said. “Easy. We just are.”

Asami shook her head, though she was smiling. “No, I mean, how have we not figured it out sooner? We have classes together.”

Korra grinned and leaned her elbow on the car in front of her, staring Asami right in the eye. “But have we ever talked before?”

Asami shook her head.

“Exactly.”

Asami studied her arm for a few seconds before looking up at Korra. “So, if we’re soulmates . . .”

“We should probably talk about it,” Korra finished. “Tomorrow night. Valentine’s Day. We go on a date. We talk about the whole soulmate thing. We live happily for the rest of our days.”

Asami snorted. “Sounds perfect.”

“Good, because I wasn’t going to take no for an answer.”

“YOU WON’T BELIEVE what happened!” Korra yelled, slamming the door to her dorm behind her.

Bolin, who was holding a bowl of popcorn, jumped and dropped the bowl. “Would it hurt to give a little warning next time?” he grumbled and he knelt to clean up the mess.

Mako snorted from the couch. “Maybe you should know she’ll do that stuff by now.”

“Oh, shut up.”

“Guys please,” Korra said. “What happened today.”

Wu snapped his fingers and pointed at her. “You learned that we’re all living in a simulation and nothing is real.”

“. . . no?”

“You learned that fairies are real and we’re all giants,” Bolin offered, earning a glare from Opal, who was in her bunk.

“Let her speak,” she said.

Korra rocked back on her heels, before blurting out, “I found my soulmate!”

Wu gasped. “That was going to be my next guess!”

Mako snorted, tightening his arm around his shoulders. “Sure it was.”

“That’s great, Korra,” Opal said. “Who is it?”

“Asami Sato.”

Bolin sat down next to Opal, having given up on popcorn. “Isn’t she in some of your classes?”

Korra nodded slowly. “A few, I think. But I’ve never actually talked to her until now.”

“How’d you meet her?” Mako asked.

“Car problems. Obviously.”

“Right. Obviously.”

“You know,” Opal said. “Her dorm is in the same building. She lives on her own, I think.”

Korra grinned, and her eyes seemed to brighten. Her soulmate living in the same building as her? It was the next best thing compared to actually living with her. Still, it would make seeing her easier. She wouldn’t have to worry about her car breaking down — though that would give her an excuse to see Asami whenever she wanted. “Does she?” Honestly, it was surprising that she hadn’t figured it out sooner. There had been so many opportunities for them to talk, but they only did when Korra’s old car broke down?

“Yeah. You should go talk to her.”

Korra shook her head. “I just got back from talking to her. We’re going out tomorrow.”

“Valentine’s Day?”

Korra grinned. “What better day to get to know your soulmate than the day of love?”

ASAMI PACED AROUND her small shop. She was supposed to be closing up, but all she could think about was what had happened earlier.

She had found her soulmate.

More specifically, she had found out Korra, the star of the soccer team, one of the most well-known girls, daughter of the mayor, quite possibly the most beautiful girl she’d ever met, was her soulmate.

Of all things, she was surprised they’d never met before, but with how different their lives were, she honestly wasn’t surprised.

Asami locked the door behind her as she left, and headed to her car. She paused when she passed Korra’s car.

Trailing a hand over the hood, she was overcome with fantasies of the future. Of dates with Korra in the front seat. Of snuggling up on cold days. Of laughing and joking as they rode to classes. Of seeing Korra when her car was finished.

This car, Korra’s car, was a mark of the future, and it was one she would forever be grateful for.

VALENTINE’S DAY CAME, and Korra was freaking out.

“Korra, you look fine,” Opal said for the fifth time.

Korra tugged at her collar again. She had decided to wear a blue suit, with a black shirt underneath. She had left her jacket unbuttoned, open to hang at her sides, but now she was questioning if it was the right choice. “But what if I picked the wrong color suit and our outfits clash?”

Opal rolled her eyes. “Since when have you cared about your appearance that much?”

“But she’s my soulmate!” Korra protested. “I want everything to be perfect.”

Opal stood from her bed and crossed the room. Placing her hands on Korra’s shoulders, she stared into her very soul. “Korra. You are taking her out for dinner and then stargazing. Your date plan is fine. She is your soulmate. She’ll like it regardless. Look, I know your first date with your soulmate is nerve wracking. I’ve been through it. But you’re going to be fine. You’ll be laughing halfway through and wonder why you were ever so nervous. You’ll be fine.”

Korra took a deep breath and shook her nerves away. “You’re right. We’re going to dinner. We’re going to get to know each other and talk about this whole soulmate thing. It’s going to be fine.”

Opal grinned. “Good. Now get going. Bolin is going to be here any minute and I don’t want you here.”

Korra laughed and crossed to the door, winking at Opal — who rolled her eyes — before leaving.

There were plenty of couples in the hall, all heading out to do their couple-y thing. It was weird to think that after years of moping at home and wishing to all the stars she could remember the names of, that she would be joining them soon.

Weird, but absolutely exhilarating.

Korra stopped in front of Asami’s door. Taking a deep breath, she steeled her nerves and knocked.

The door opened immediately, like Asami had been waiting for her. Korra’s greeting stuck in her throat. Asami looked absolutely beautiful. Her red dress hugged her waist and danced around her like feathers in the wind. The sleeves flowed around her arms and cinched around her wrists. Her hair tumbled around her shoulders, her lips painted the same shade as her dress, her eyes lined with black. She was even more beautiful than Korra thought.

Korra was shaken out of her thoughts by Asami laughing. “You’re staring,” she said, causing Korra to blush. “But you look very pretty yourself.”

Korra grinned. “Really? I was worried the blue was overdoing it.”

Asami laughed again. “It goes well with red.”

“Does it? I had no idea.”

“It does. Are you going to tell me what you have planned for tonight, or is that a surprise?”

Korra bit her lip. “I can tell you we’re going out to dinner, but after that is a surprise.”

“Dinner sounds nice.”

Grinning, Korra looped her arm with Asami’s and led her down the hall. “You’re going to love it.”

ASAMI DID LOVE it. Korra had taken her to a diner with mostly outdoor seating. The seating area was filled with plants of all sorts, with flowers of all different colors. It almost looked like the garden was one huge soul mark. Lanterns lined the walkways, making her feel like their path was glowing.

Korra led her down one of the many pathways, grinning widely. That grin was one Asami could get used to seeing — she was quickly falling in love with it.

“Wow Korra, this is amazing,” she said, stumbling slightly as Korra jerked her around a corner.

“Sorry!” her soulmate-maybe-girlfriend squeaked. “Our table is up here.”

Asami looked around, noticing they hadn’t passed any more tables in a while. “Why are the tables so spaced out anyway?”

“This restaurant is for soulmates who have just met to get to know each other. The tables are so far apart for privacy. Each table is supposed to have a bowl of conversation starters with weird questions. Get to know the small stuff before what they do for a living, I guess.”

Asami laughed. “This is amazing,” she repeated.

Korra raised an eyebrow. “Really? It’s not that creative.”

“To be fair, we only met yesterday.”

Korra stopped. “This is us.”

The table was in a small alcove surrounded by flower pots. It was a typical outdoor seating table — metal, with chairs that would probably be uncomfortable after a while. The center of the table had a small bowl with different slips of paper sitting in it. Conversation starters.

Asami unlooped her arm from Korra’s and sat. Her soulmate did the same.

They spent a few seconds staring at each other and grinning. Spirits, Korra was pretty, with her short hair and minimal makeup that looked like it had been put on last minute, and the blue suit that matched her eyes.

She could have spent hours staring into those eyes that seemed to hold the depths of the world within them. They were the ocean and the sky and warm rain.

Asami looked away and cleared her throat. “So, should we use these conversations starters, or should we go through the basic ‘get to know me’ questions?”

Grinning, Korra placed her chin on her hand. “Tell me about Future Industries.”

Asami grinned. She could’ve talked about anything just to talk to Korra, but talking about one of the things she loved most was even better. “It was supposed to expand from one small mechanics shop to a whole company, but my father died before he could finish all the business stuff, and I’m not in the place to do it on my own. A lot of the employees quit after he died, looking for better work, so I don’t have enough money — or time, with school. I want to expand in the future though.”

Korra nodded. “Seems important.”

“It is,” Asami agreed. “Forgetting about the fact that I love the work, my father started the company and I feel like I’d be forgetting him if I didn’t make it worth it.”

Korra smiled softly. “You wouldn’t be forgetting him.”

Asami shrugged. “What about you? What do you want to do with your life?”

“Okay, so I know I should know by now, but I’m not completely sure. I mean, I focus a lot on soccer and martial arts and could easily do something with that. But I could also help my dad in politics, which would be fine.”

“As long as you’re doing what you want,” Asami said. “And something you went to school for.”

Korra laughed. “Anything other than Future Industries I should know about you?”

“What, like a secret identity I hide behind to fight crime?” Asami said with a laugh. “Nothing that huge. Basic stuff you’ll probably know with those conversation starters. I don’t really have any friends. I major in mechanics. I run Future Industries. I want to expand. That’s it really.”

Korra nodded. “Well, you should know my roommate and friends can be annoying. I was the last to find my soulmate, and they teased me for it a lot. And they’re just annoying in general.”

“I think I can deal with annoying roommates.”

“Good, because you’ll be dealing with them a lot,” Korra said, playing with the slips of paper. “So, those conversation starters.”

KORRA TOOK ASAMI to the roof of their dorm building. Korra wasn’t sure Asami would like it, but by the way Asami gasped and turned in a slow circle to look at the view, she was pretty sure she did.

“I know I said dinner was amazing,” Asami started, “but this is amazing.”

“Never came up to the roof before?” Korra asked, setting a blanket that she’d snagged from her dorm down on the ground. She sat and patted the ground next to her.

“You’re allowed to come up here?” Asami asked as she sat down and leaned her head on Korra’s shoulder.

“Er — no, not usually,” Korra said, rubbing her next. “But a family friend runs this place, so I get special permission. Figured I might as well use it.”

Grinning, Asami leaned back on her elbows and looked at the sky. “I wish I could see the stars.”

Korra leaned back too. “You can see them better in the country, at my family’s farm.”

“Your family has a farm?”

“My grandparents. We visit every summer.”

Asami hummed. “Do you know a lot about the stars?”

Grinning, Korra reached a hand up to the sky like she could pick a star out of the sky. “I sure do.”

Asami sighed. “Tell me everything you can.”

“Everything?”

“Everything.”

And so the two laid there, Asami’s head on Korra’s chest and Korra’s hand tangled in Asami’s hair as Korra told everything she knew of the stars. Asami listened, and though she didn’t understand much of what she was listening to, all she cared about was that it was Korra, her soulmate, talking, and that was all that mattered.

At long last, both girls had found their soulmate.

Dunno if I should put a taglist here but here we go: @salt-warrior @andrewminyard-apologist @cinderswrench @shadymcsilverbangs @cindersassasin let me know if you want to be added or removed!

#korrasami Valentine’s exchange #korrasami #Korra #asami sato #avatar korra #lok #Atla #Bolin #Wu #Opal #mako #kuvira #naia writes

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