#I just hate seeing my comfort character being put together with genuinely awful people

[cyber-neptune]

Hot take: i find the "jokes" about Megatron being H*tler, St*lin and/or Tr*mp unfunny and unoriginal.

Call me sensitive and overdramatic but i honestly don't like seeing this every time I look for Megatron stuff

[rosetheocto]

Hey! If you'd be open to it, I was interested in hearing your thoughts on any Failtopia pairings that you particularly enjoy and the reasons you do? Whether they be platonic or romantic-

YESSSS I HAVE AN EXCUSE TO YAP ABOUT CHARACTER INTERACTIONS YWUAJSJEJJEJR!!! OKAY!! So idk how put together this is since there is a mix of my typing when I’m super tired + typing when I just woke up so I’m praying that what I’m saying makes sense LMAO. TLDR: I really like failtopia’s characters

So starting off with what is probably the most popular dynamic in this series: Bo and Erica!! To say they’ve both Gone Through It is an understatement, and them both finding comfort and safety in each other is amazing to me!! Like. Erica’s had so many people die on her and the reaction to finding out that was nearly impossible to lose Bo was just. Flawless. Can’t believe Dan improvised that. And Bo was sent to just kill Mar and work for Screamith but Erica was pretty much the start to her letting her true self shine and developing an actual attachment to The Incident!! It’s so awesome how Dan has wrote them. we love our gay level 6 “friendship” girlbosses ‼️‼️

Mar and Orion have also gone through a handful of things before the series begins, and the relationship they develop as the series progresses is pretty dang interesting! as much as the fandom focus on EriBo as a romantic thing, more people need to talk about how Mar has explicitly shown he has a crush on Orion. MULTIPLE TIMES. The idea of Orion opening up to Mar after he lost his wife and Mar opening up to Orion after his time as the Dark Curse and AGGHH I love these two so much and the way they interact every time they’re on screen is amazing. old man yaoi

I imagine C!Failboat and Erica as exes. like they dated for like a week and were both mutually like “that was awful let’s just stay friends”, They had a bunch of small interactions together (especially in S1) and I like them being friendly towards each other, Erica finding a friend in C!Fail was a pretty good step for her arc! I also think the idea of C!Fail and Erica being childhood friends in non-Miitopia AUs very intriguing!! Any content of those two interacting (that isn’t romantic) is always a nice thing to see!

Taking a break from the more popular relationships/friendships in this series, we have Deko and Joker!! For two characters that barely interact in canon there’s a lot you can do with them! They’re just two anime boys trying to survive in this weird party. I have a lot of thoughts on them but I just can’t form it aghahajsjjs but the main one is that they aren’t alone in what they’re going through, and no matter what backstory you use for Joker it still has a lot of potential!! I’m sure people can explain this one better than I can I just really like this rarepair!! while on the topic of Joker, shoutouts to his friendship with Lanc!! You can’t convince me Joker didn’t have a crush on them. Just watch their interactions in Karkaton and you’ll probably get what I mean lmaoo

I just need to mention the sisters!! even if they aren’t sisters by blood, Chi and Erica both have the energy! Chi being the thing that really gets Erica out of her “I hate everything” phase in both seasons needs to be talked about more. They bring out the best in each other I swear,, again I promise I can talk about them more my brain just isn’t giving me the words rn, but I think Gnome explains it best!

While on sibling dynamics, Bill and Shrimp is so great to me. Like. Bill helping Shrimp out not only because he likes her music, but also out of the genuine kindness of his heart is so sweet to me!! They’re so nice every time they’re on screen together and it’s fun to see them battling by each other’s sides!! plus the matching outfits in the finale was also a great touch :]

I’ve mentioned these two before, but Bill and Chi are criminally underrated imo. Like. They’re the only members of the Incident who have just recently turned 18, Chi’s literally Bill’s mentor after he changed jobs, and their dynamic is just so fun to work with!! Bill’s more mature and ‘normal’ while Chi is Chi and will set things on fire For Science and I think scenarios where they’re together are really fun to come up with!! Same with Shrimp and Chi!! The sister dynamic they have is also super underrated, like they’re a Fire and Water duo!! I think there’s a lot of things you can do there :0

look I am more than aware these two have never interacted but that’s cuz Dan is a COWARD and knows that Bo and Lanc being in the same room would lead to so much mayhem lmaoo. Out of everyone in The Incident (apart from Chi obviously) I see Lanc getting along with Bo the best! a lot of stuff I have for them is pretty based on fanon but you can’t tell me they wouldn’t gossip about the lastest drama with the party and the outside world. I swear they’re besties, they relate to each other, just hear me out. I also think Rose and Bo can be great friends and they really have a LOT in common!! Princess who faked their whole identity gang ‼️‼️

I love Erica and Rose just being each other’s biggest hater, it’s my favorite thing ever. it’s canon that Rose only shows off for Erica to prove to her that she’s better than her and that’s amazing to me. They’re both just so done with each other lmaoo (also the headcanon of them each other’s gay awakenings is perfect)

I think Friend and Mar interactions could be cool!! Like for starters they had some pretty huge connections to Hank they could bond over. also I find Mar being canonically a demon mixed with the headcanon of Friend being an angel very fun!! I also think Friend and Erica could be fun to see, especially with Erica’s past as a Cleric!! shared jobs and trauma!!

Mar and literally any FailFleet member can be funny I think, like we already have the Neksdor Three obviously, but I think an ACTUAL Bob and Mar reunion will lead to someone getting beat up lol, everyone in the S1 Squad would all have very different view points on if Mar deserves to be forgiven or not, or if he’s a good leader, etc. and I think that there should be more done with that!!

Orion’s friendship with the rest of The Incident is also a very important part of why the party is the way it is!! There’s absolutely characters with awful relationships to their dads, fathers that are barely around, or just never had a parental figure at all. I LOVE that Orion was able to fill that void for those party members, and he does a damn good job at it too!! And of course the parallels he has with Erica is great, both are stubborn warriors with a lot of baggage, but also have a lot of differences, like their views on stuff like becoming a healer!! Orion being like a mentor to Erica is great. also shoutouts to Slapo, we love her. I think her interacting with other members of The Incident is also something that’s needed more!!

Speaking of fathers, scenes with Chat and C!Fail are downright hilarious! Chat’s insanity mixed with C!Fail’s attitude always leads to some crazy thing going down! Chat with anyone really is always a treat, since they’re way more than too much to handle most of the time, and seeing how everyone reacts to their shenanigans is always gonna be fun!!

Smuk, Rose, and Bob’s relationship is just perfection. Bob obviously crushing on Rose is so great to see when they have scenes together and Smuk basically proposing to Rose (but not really) with that ring is also cool!! And of course we gotta mention Smuk and Bob’s bromance in Greenhorne, those two were inseparable a lot of the time I swear, I love them a lot, I’m praying if we get S3 we have those three come back (along with Petunyawn)

Deko’s friendship with both Chi and Lanc is vital to his arc!! Similar to Erica, he had gone through quite a lot before S1 and traveling with them got him to warm up to them and helped him get better control of his powers!! Lanc and Chi being absolute goofsters while Deko has no energy is VERY amusing!! also Deko, someone who was experimented on, being paired up with two soon-to-be scientists is vile lmaoo, why do you do this Dan /pos

SPEAKING OF THOSE SCIENTISTS!! If you thought I wasn’t gonna bring up Lanchi at all then you’re wrong. These two. These two are my everything. They’re undoubtedly my OTP!! There is quite a handful of canon evidence (in both seasons!) that point to Something going on between them!! I’d list them all out rn, but imma save that for another time, so I’ll just stick to saying everything I like about them!! The way Lanc and Chi just bounce off each other is insane. I swear they can read each other’s minds sometimes, they actually just share a braincell!! Lanc being all nervous in the Finale and Chi comforting them,, and ofc Chi being inspired by Lanc to switch jobs in S2 is just GAHAJJJJW I LOVE THEM!! They’ve been living rent free in my head since 2021 and I can’t get them out even if I tried!! EVERY SINGLE INTERACTION they have can be read as romantic. I refuse to believe they’re just friends lmaoo

[beevean]

(Feel free to ignore this if you don't want to talk about IDW Sonic! /gen) I don't know if you've seen the solicits for issues 63 and 64 yet, but... yikes. I'm happy Silver is getting more focus, but it honestly feels as if they're just going the Archie Sonic route with him being kind of a literal dumbass jumping to conclusions left and right? In itself I don't mind that, I think it does suit Silver to immediately undertake action without thinking things fully through, but it's how the other characters (are going to) react to it. The fact that the solicit for issue 64 already says "Awkwardness ensures." is promptly giving me second-hand embarrassment, and it hasn't even come out yet! I really don't want another situation wherein everyone is going to jump down Silver's throat (*flashing back to Sonic dragging him by his quills through the town towards Antione in the hospital*) because of the narrative presenting him as an idiot who accuses others without proof and like a dumbass (even if Silver is right; I'm pretty sure it's already confirmed the blue cat dude is Mimic in disguise. I'm not sure if IDW Sonic the comic can be trusted for the others to put a genuine apology towards Silver when this comes to light.). It honestly makes me kind of sad that Silver might get reduced to just being The Dumb Overeager Guy Being Rude To Others And Who Everyone Thinks Is Stupid in this way, not to mention all the weirdness of him getting in the way of the Diamond Cutters and being an overeager fanboy despite having been perfectly able to work together with Whisper at the end of the Metal Virus arc (and, you know, being an immensely powerful psychic and stuff). The comic already went this route in issue 8, why are they dragging it up again despite having shown things that can definitely be interpreted as the contrary in issues 26 and 28?

Just something that has been on my mind ever since I read those solicits, and wanted to get off my chest😅

Stuck in the past with no clear directive, Silver decides to spend some time with the Diamond Cutters and their new member. But he’s too busy being star-struck over Whisper to notice that he’s interrupting their training! Elsewhere, Sonic takes Blaze sightseeing so she can enjoy her vacation.

This issue is all about Silver the Hedgehog! First, he's incredibly suspicious of the Diamond Cutters' new member and he jumps to a conclusion that leads him to some hasty accusations. Awkwardness ensues. Then, Blaze comforts Silver as they bond over being away from home and in Sonic's world.

I'm honestly surprised that they even remembered that Silver is a Whisper fanboy. Remember when people shipped Silvisper and Blazangle, before Whispangle fused together? Good times lol

Yeah, this plot is going to be cringe in the real sense of the word. I hate when the story is about characters making fool of themselves, and Silver is about to be a uwu cute but annoying idiot in #63, and a Mr. Conspiracy Theory (who was actually right all along) in #64? Miss me with that.

Remember when Silver kicked the entirety of Sonic's ass and came close to murder him in cold blood? I do. Silver is not an edgy murder machine and sure I can believe he's happier now, but come on, do something more with him than turn him into the cute child of the group!

Also didn't Silver already have a conversation about being stuck in the past in the 2022 annual, with Espio? A much more interesting interaction since the two have only been paired together in Rivals 2 of all things? Ah, but then again, if they're rehashing Archie, sure why not :V yay can't wait to see Sonic being an utter jerkass to Silver <3

And why oh why did you have to remind me of how awful Tangle's apology to Whisper was 😭 I hate that scene so much

... I hope they'll show Sonic and Blaze having fun on Frog Forest. I love Frog Forest 🥺 please just have two characters having fun on their own

[polysyndetonaddictsupportgroup]

The latest chapter fully has made me lose my brain. You were right the Job and Daisy buddy cop jamboree IS the best. And that conversation between Tim and Jon?? Man. So much going on and so much going on just beneath the surface. Love the way Tim guilty thinks back to what Elias said about everyone using Jon, and love the way that is kinda what he's doing. Also love the way he *knows* something awful has happened but he doesn't want to dig into it because he doesn't want to risk pulling someone aboard Danny and his already sinking lifeboat. He can't afford to care. SO fascinating.

Also unrelated but were there a way to anonymously send you fanart (to prevent the off chance of someone I know irl finding my blog lol) you would be swimming in fanart. Because hoo-boy. Anyways love the chapter!!

Ahh thank you for your kind words!

Legitimately i cannot put into words how much fun i find the daisy and jon buddy cop jamboree. they're both so insane and chaotic. I have so many Shenanigans in my head that the two of them have committed over the years of their partnership that will probably never make it into nhthcth on account of it not being relevant to the plot. they're just such a fun dynamic. jon won't stop buying daisy stuff for her home renovations on elias's personal credit card. she's like 10-15 years older than him and they do everything together. sometimes that's killing the eldritch manifestation of violence and sometimes that's bottomless mimosa brunch billed directly to peter lukas. daisy went from violently fucking hating this guy to spending almost every single day with him and going on multiple vacations with him and no one understands why. they're so funny to me. I want them to have a wwdits style tv crew following them around at all times.

See i LOVE tim as a character because he's a genuinely good guy but he's also not without his own limitations and he has been shown to have like, an ability to recognize and accept when he can't change something.

Tim's instinct is to help. Like, he went back for Jon and Martin and literally carried Jon through the Jane Prentiss attack. At the Unknowing, when they were planting explosives, he was trying to convince everyone to let him try to save the victims of the ritual that were still alive. He's really, genuinely good, and he wouldn't have been like those people in the Institute who turned a blind eye to Jon growing up because he was worried about his job.

But he also has limits. Like, season 3, his anger overrode basically everything else, and when Sasha disappeared after the Season 2 finale, he wasn't trying to find her. Martin was sitting there begging Daisy to bring her home safe, and Tim, who was shown to be closer with her than anyone, had already given into a grim acceptance that she was dead and there was nothing to be done.

It was the same thing with Helen--when Martin and Tim were wandering Michael's corridors, they saw Helen trapped inside. Martin kept insisting that they should have helped her, and Tim completely shut it down, because he had this very bitter understanding that they couldn't help her, so stop thinking about it and stop talking about it. He didn't fight it; he accepted it; he did not try because of it.

Tim's a good person, but he's distinct from some others in the cast by the fact that 1) he will look at the practical realities they're living in and (bitterly) accept them, and 2) he's got some things that will override and take priority when he makes decisions.

Danny is and always will be the number one override for him. Like, we get so little on them in canon, but what happened to Danny seems to haunt Tim right to the end. Tim upended his entire life trying to find the thing that killed his brother. When we get the Statement on what happened, we find out that Tim is still searching all these years later, even if he did get a bit comfortable and complacent over time. Like, he can cite offhand the last statement given regarding a circus. He's still pulling all the books on Circuses. He never let go of what happened to his brother, even though he accepted (for lack of a better term) what happened to Sasha before he knew what happened to her and before she was declared dead. Danny had been gone for years by the finale, but Tim went to his death so he could kill the thing that took him away.

So Tim in nhthcth is in this huge phase of major internal conflict right now, because every single one of his major pillars of decision-making are in conflict.

Danny's his ultimate override. He's the thing that makes Tim not give a shit about anything else--everything has to fall away to Danny making through this alive. Unlike Tim in canon, he actually has a chance to save Danny. Canon Tim was willing to die over his brother's fate--a Tim that has a chance to save his brother will go so much farther.

But he's still someone who is able to clock when something's completely and utterly fucked. And Tim is the best situated out of everyone in the cast save Jon to understand how dire these circumstances actually are.

Danny's in little brother baby jail. He's spending all day trying to wriggle information out of Mike because Tim's pitching a bitch fit every time he tries to leave the apartment, and Jon doesn't even want Tim there, let alone Danny. He's playing Uno with Mike and trying to subtly slide in "hahah hey for the sake of conversation do you happen know of any like. evil contract breaking powers." He's trapped in that John Mulaney bit of eating triscuits and asking someone if they had ever seen a ghost. Thoughts and prayers for Danny.

Martin and Sasha's priorities are different from Tim, and the information they're looking at is different. Sasha, especially--she's chasing the contract, not the circus, and she's in such a state of paranoia that she's trying to rely on information that comes from her, not anyone else. She's not been exploring the Statements or been learning about the supernatural world the way he has.

For the most part, this happened off camera, so to speak, but it's been discussed multiple times that Tim's been tearing through everything that he thinks can help him understand what's going on and how to stop the thing after his brother. He's going through the library, he's reading all the Statements he can. He's been trying to get practical experience via tagging along with Jon, which keeps getting stymied, so he goes back to the library and the Statements.

Which means he goes to the Archives every day and struggles against the dawning realization that what they're trying to do just does not happen. He reads the Statements, and people either die, or they are let go, or they become the monster themselves. Options one, two, and three. And the vast majority are people who die horrible fucking deaths--or, worse, don't get the mercy of death. He has been spending every day desperately trying to find a Statement of normal schmucks like him and his brother beating something determined to finish their meal and going back to their normal lives, and they just aren't there.

Tim in Season 2 and 3 most consistently displayed an understanding that the supernatural was not something they could beat. People just get eaten by monsters, and that's their lives now. Nhthcth Tim has been getting that same horrible, dawning certainty of "This is a fight I have no chances of winning" with the immediate follow up of "But it's Danny. I have to."

Which makes him painfully conscious of the fact that he cannot afford to be a good person right now.

Because the thing is? Danny should have died in the theatre, as far as he's aware, and Tim knows it. He should have never even made it home that night. You don't get out on your own--these things let you go. Even if he somehow made it out on his own, Breekon & Hope should have been able to drag him back easily. He should already be dead. Tim knows it with a devastating certainty.

And he also knows that the only reason why he isn't is because Jon has been paying the cost of keeping him alive.

Danny getting out of that theatre cost him his skin. Mike protecting him? Cost Jon a food source, and apparently is going to probably get him tossed off a building down the line. Getting Elias as a backstop ended with Jon having to start taking live statements again and letting assistants down. Hell, Jon has to fucking escort him to and from Mike's every single day, because Tim may just get picked up by Breekon & Hope if he doesn't.

Tim's painfully aware that Jon’s well-being and Danny’s have a negative correlation right now. He is so uncomfortably aware that he's borderline sacrificing Jon's wellbeing for his brother's, and he's accepted that basically using Jon is the only way he has of getting Danny through this alive. It goes against his nature, he's a good person who doesn't want to hurt someone else for his own benefit, but he'll keep doing it for Danny.

And he knows that's going to be a lot harder to do if he gets to know Jon.

Out of all of the assistants, Tim actually has some of the greatest suspicions of how deeply wrong things are. Like, Martin saw how bad Jon got as a kid, but Tim’s been exclusively privy to Elias’s manipulative bullshit in a way the other two haven’t. He never got fed the lie of Jon being Elias's spoiled and beloved ward. His first introduction to this mess was Jon saving their asses several times over, and it has been nonstop red flags since then. One of the first thing that Jon tells him is that he hates being called Jonathan, and it's all Elias calls him. Jon turned into a nervous, frantic mess at the idea of assistants, and Elias has been trying to force it for years. He was sarcastic in the face of clown death, but actively scared at the possibility of Elias coming down. Jon cannot be reminded that man exists without launching into insults so creative that Tim almost feels like he should write them down for reference.

Tim spends more time with Jon than anyone out of the cast. He’s walking to and from work with him every day, spending time with him at mikes and at the archives, and the way Jon behaves fucking terrifies him. Both in a “your life is a spooky nightmare” kind of way and in a “you act like the aftermath of a tragedy” kind of way. He knows somethings deeply fucking wrong with Jon.

And he’s also genuinely honest about liking Jon. He doesn't like him the way Danny does, per se. Jon simply enchants Danny. Danny wants this man in his life forever. He wants to be roommates with him. He wants to go on a roadtrip with him. He is the world's most interesting man to Danny and Danny has never wanted to be best friends with someone so badly in his life. He's hilarious, a good person, and every single thing that comes out of his mouth is the absolute fucking wildest thing he has ever heard in his life. They fucking booked it from a monster clown together through a nightmare eldritch theatre together, which is the start of an epic friendship if Danny has ever heard one.

Jon’s a big “if only” to tim. Jon’s funny and kind and they get on great. Tim thinks that if they had met and Jon had just been Danny’s friend that he dragged home with him, he’d love being this guys pseudo older brother or something. But he’s clocked the situation, he’s figured out that Jon’s world is not something you can stay just out of the sightline of. It’s cut all ties or be eaten. So Tim’s already read the writing on the wall, made the mental calculation, and realized at the end of this, if they get out, he’s going to have to look the guy who saved their asses at his own expense in the eye and tell him they’re abandoning him forever. Thanks for the rescue that was costly to you in unspeakable ways, please never contact us ever again.

Tim needs Danny out, alive, and everything he’s seen and read has led him to a not unreasonable understanding that that’s going to require using and abandoning Jon as an absolute best case scenario. That’s weighs unbearably heavy on his conscious when Jon’s someone he likes and is actively worried about. If he knew the truth? It would be impossible.

[bluedalahorse]

I love this long thread and its discussion of the side characters <3 Lots of great ideas to chew on in the additions!

I don’t really have much to add myself (j/k this ended up being long, sorry) except that these are teenagers living in a semi-isolated boarding school, trying to figure out who they are, and that might lead to some of their fluctuations in personality and motive. Everything is moving so fast, and not always linearly, when you’re a teenager. And these characters are around each other all the time.

In that context, Henry’s shifting attitudes toward Simon make perfect sense to me. I didn’t go to a small boarding school, but I was in this program where they tracked into this class of fourteen kids in high school for my history and English classes, and we stayed together all four years. There were some serious conflicts between members of the class at times (especially when members of the class had dated and then broken up) and some unserious ones, but ultimately we’d just… been around each other for a long time. And that kind of situation breeds a familiarity that shares some traits with friendship and siblinghood, but also is a thing all of its own. So the notion that Henry would initially roll his eyes at Simon’s political comments but also hug him in gym class like… sure! Sounds like high school to me! That feels very real.

As for the question of whether Stella and Fredrika consider themselves close friends with Sara or whether they just tolerate her for Felice’s sake—I think both things can have an element of truth to them, and different situations force different parts of that truth to the surface. When they’re feeling comfortable, they like Sara and she’s adorable and brings a fresh perspective to the group. When they’re feeling threatened, Sara is an outsider they lash out against. I don’t think the lashing out necessarily means that all the affection they show her didn’t have some genuine feeling behind it, or that it was all fake. For me it just makes it’s more complicated. (And I agree that some of their comments, like the one about virginity, feel a little weird and condescending. It’s hard to know whether Fredrika means that genuinely and sweetly or in a teasing way, and I think that’s meant to put us in Sara’s shoes of navigating a situation where the social cues are harder to read and people are less consistent than we want.)

I will absolutely defend stedrika’s right to exist and have screentime and be canon (I have a bit of a contrary streak, and the widespread and unwarranted post-S2 hate for them made me like them out of spite) although I also agree with @sflow-er that they could have used a little more development in season 3. I say this because the way they operate in season 2 (and retrospectively in season 1) is that their closetedness seems to make them more likely to lash out at authenticity in others, and more likely to do all the gossiping that they do. Almost like, if they can’t be authentic, they won’t let anyone else be either.

In season 3, Stella and Fredrika haven’t dropped the cattiness and the inauthenticity, and it’s such an important part of Felice’s arc that she leaves them behind for that—yet Stella and Fredrika still get together and we’re still supposed to celebrate that as an audience. It didn’t feel like an awful betrayal, writing-wise, but it felt a little muddled and confusing for me. I think they still could have been season 3 endgame, or the show could have had Fredrika reject Stella and done more with Stella/Rosh, but it needed a little more time and attention. We also don’t have much interiority for Fredrika compared to Stella, so I think I find myself wanting more in that respect. (I want to live in the alternate universe where season 3 got eight episodes and Wille’s character arc was spaced out a little better. I liked season 3 but I also have my criticisms.)

Overall, this all sounds like fertile ground for fanfiction writers, and I’d love to see as many different interpretations as possible. I’d also like to explore writing stedrika and stosh someday, just to see if I could do it and what it would come out like. And I agree with @sflow-er yet again that taking time developing a character in a fanfic can make you more attached to them! And now I wanna create a poll to that effect…

I guess one more thing I’ll say, in response to the OP way at the top of the post—I totally get it when people aren’t drawn to or interested in meanness in characters. For some folks that is not a draw. For me, however, meanness can be a draw, especially since Young Royals doesn’t seem to lean into like… meanness as an aesthetic or power fantasy, the way Gossip Girl or Mean Girls or many other teen dramas do.

Instead it’s very frank about how meanness is a way that people often try to claim power, and it’s also clear about the way teenagers are denied power by adults. So asking myself why a character might be trying to claim power in a particular moment (not just like, Stella or Walter or Vincent but also Wille! Even Wille or Simon can be mean sometimes! They all can!) is an interesting thought experiment that almost always yields interesting results for me.

Totally respect people who feel differently but sometimes I just like to be a messy bitch who likes messy people!

I don't understand how Henry, Walter, Stella, and Fredrika are spared so much heat and criticism other characters get for being toxic, privileged, and mean. To be honest I don't see a big difference between their behavior and that of the August / Nils / Vincent crew (who I don't like either). I know it's the point of their characters but I'm still stuck on the comments they all made in the classroom scene in S1, criticizing welfare recipients and especially what Henry said to Simon about what his dad did. Then in s3 the way Stella treated Rosh like a plaything, then were supposed to root for her and Fredrika? Idk. I just don't get the love.

[gukyi]

love me or we both go down | kth

summary: after going through with an arranged marriage to please his parents and secure his inheritance of the family business, kim taehyung thinks he’s got it all figured out. he doesn’t. apparently just being married to you isn’t enough, not when everybody and their mother can pick up on the fact that the two of you absolutely loathe each other. but taehyung wants his inheritance one way or another, so he decides that desperate times call for desperate measures: the two of you need to fall in love, and you need to fall in love fast.

{enemies to lovers!au, arranged marriage!au, rich kids!au}

pairing: kim taehyung x female reader genre: fluff, angst, smut (i know, crazy right?) word count: 32k warnings: oral sex (m & f receiving), fingering, penetrative sex, multiple unprotected sex scenes (they’re married y’all), fat cock tae, tae has a wife kink, lots of praise, alcohol consumption (but they’re safe), minor character death (not explicit), mentions of heart attack, slow burn like there is no tomorrow a/n: hello and welcome to the fic everyone, literally everyone, has been waiting for! i am so, so, so excited to share this with you all, especially because none other than rose @kinktae​ helped me write the smut, and i am literally forever indebted to her. you all better go spam rose with all the love and support you can because this fic would not be here without her and i love her so much. 

also, to all my readers who aren’t comfortable reading smut, please know that the smut in this fic is not imperative to the storyline, and you skipping past it will not affect your reading experience., enjoy!

Never in your life have wedding bells felt so ominous.

The sound of them is akin to the sound of strings, of a single piano note in a horror movie, right when the film opens and someone random is about to die on screen for the sake of proving to the audience that this is, in fact, a horror movie. Make no mistake about it; these wedding bells spell doom for you, too. And the most horrific part about them is that just like that poor, helpless soul in the movie, there is no way for you to escape your fate either. 

With only seconds left to go before you have no choice but to promise yourself to the man waiting at the other end of the aisle, you desperately try to think of any last-ditch efforts to get out of this. Many, if not all of them, are utterly useless. 

Feigning sudden illness won’t work, because then your parents will just reschedule the wedding to a later date. Running away is fruitless. Where will you go? The parking lot?

If only you had a lover out there in the audience somewhere that could object to the marriage when the officiant says, “Speak now, or forever hold your peace.” A knight in shining armor that could whisk you out of the venue and off to a new life, far away from here. Too bad all of the people you’ve dated before hate you now. 

Maybe getting married isn’t such a bad thing after all. Instead of having relationships with multiple people who will eventually despise your existence, you only have to have a relationship with one. And the feeling, as has always been, is mutual. 

You bristle as your assistants do some last-minute prepping, fixing your sleeve and adjusting your necklace and making sure you don’t trip on your enormous train. They flutter around you like a swarm of well-meaning but ignorant butterflies complicit in the agenda of your family. None of them have said a word to you about the wedding ever since you arrived at the venue, choosing to talk more about things like the weather. Not that you were ever under the impression they had been hired to entertain you. Maybe they were told to not engage you, just in case you try to conspire with them.

As if they could be of any use in your wildly unrealistic escape plans. 

The truth is that, unless you were to drop dead on this marble flooring right now, you’re getting married. Whether you like it or not.

The doors open. 

You’ve attended red carpets, galas, award shows, and balls. You’ve had hundreds of cameras flashing in your face, the bright light capturing each and every centimeter of you. You’ve had paparazzi waiting outside the restaurants you eat at, the stores you shop at, desperate to catch a picture of you in sweatpants without a drop of makeup on. You’ve been on dates with ex-lovers that looked at you like you were a piece of meat with a credit card. And yet, for some goddamn reason, walking down the aisle in a white dress the size of Pluto, with the rest of your life waiting for you at the other end, makes you feel fucking transparent. 

Face resolute, you clutch onto your bouquet so tightly the flowers feel like they’re about to pop right out of your grasp. Determined not to look at anybody in the audience, you stare straight ahead, right into the eyes of your future husband.

Kim Taehyung, for someone you have seen multiple times drunk off his ass with hickies dotting his neck and jawline, cleans up pretty well. For someone getting married, at least. He dons a simple black tuxedo that still probably costs more than the average car, his caramel brown hair is pushed back off his forehead, and his expression is firm and still. He most certainly has had an equally expensive team prepping him, but they haven’t done too bad a job. The silver lining is that he doesn’t look any more thrilled than you are to be doing this, right here, right now. But to his credit, this is definitely the best he’s ever looked, as far as you’re concerned. 

When you reach him, he offers his hand out to you, a hand that you only accept for the sake of professionalism. The bouquet in your hands is handed off to one of your bridesmaids, and the two of you take your position at the front. Your train drags along the aisle, draping over the few stairs you had to climb to reach the altar, this satin trail behind you that cements you to the floor. It may as well be a ball-and-chain. It’s about as heavy as one, anyway. 

This is the longest you and Taehyung have ever held eye contact. Not that you’re really keeping track of how long the two of you have met each other’s gazes, but if you had to make an educated guess, this would definitely be the victor. Most of the time you end up sneering at each other ten seconds in, but to be fair, those other times you were also not getting married. To one another. In a ceremony attended by hundreds of people. And cameras.

There can be no sneering here. 

“Don’t you look nice?” Taehyung whispers, loud enough so only the two of you can hear. He has that drawling, sickly sweet tone to his voice, the one that you hate because it makes him sound like he thinks he’s so much better than everyone else. “Surprised they were able to makeup that scowl off your face.”

This, of course, brings on a hearty scowl only he can see, your backs both facing the rows of attendees. “How much concealer are you wearing to cover up all of the hickies on your neck?” You quip back easily. It’s not like the two of you are going to pretend he doesn’t waltz around at every club or bar or private venue he can find, looking for his next treat. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Taehyung grins, and if you weren’t standing in front of hundreds of people about to get married, there’s no telling what next you would do.

The two of you would probably go on like that for another ten minutes if it’s not for the officiant, who coughs once he’s ready and opens the book in his hands. Next to you, Taehyung straightens, hands clasped together at his front, and lips pressed into a neat line. You do the same. There will be no giggles, no laughter nor smiles, nor any genuine emotion at this wedding. This is a wedding for the sake of politics, for economics, for security, and anyone in attendance would be a fool to think otherwise. Especially you. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, family and friends, loved ones, and esteemed guests,” the officiant bellows, listing off as many groups of people as he possibly can in an effort to both include and compliment every person in the audience, “We are gathered here to celebrate the wedding, and future life, of Taehyung and Y/N…”

Taehyung turns to you, grinning in that god-awful way, the way he does when he feels like he’s got something over you. And sure, you can’t think of any punishment quite as bad as this, but what’s Taehyung got to smile about? He’s marrying himself off to a woman he hates, kissing goodbye his days as a free-spirited, heartbreaking bachelor, and promising what may very well be the rest of his life to loving you. That is not cause for celebration. 

But perhaps, to him, your suffering is enough to bring a smile to his face. 

Your vows are, to put it simply, total bullshit. Your family hired someone to write yours and there’s not a doubt in your mind that his family did the same thing. This nonsense talk, this complete and utter garbage that spews from your perfectly-glossed lips, shit about how you promise to love each other until the end of your days, how you promise to take care of each other when you’re sick and accompany each other at every event, every gala, every ball. Shit about how you promise to look only at each other, promise to uphold your family traditions and become a dependable spouse. 

The words don’t belong to you. But the thing is that this marriage was never yours anyway. 

When the kiss comes, there’s a part of you that thinks maybe you should have psyched yourself up a little more for this. When Taehyung pulls you in, placing a stiff hand on your lower back as he brings you towards his chest, your stomach turns and shivers run down your spine. The feeling of his hand on your body, the breath from his lips brushing against your own, are enough to keep you frozen in place. 

He smiles at you, almost as if to ask, “Are you ready?”

And you squeeze your eyes shut, almost as if to respond, “Let’s do this.”

When his lips meet yours, there is almost nothing. Nothing runs through you, nothing explodes, nothing strikes. But when he pulls away and cheers and applause rings out throughout the room, there is something. A little heat, a remnant of a flame, left on your lips. A little sting, just to remind you it happened. 

The entire hall is cheering but nothing about this is worth celebrating. The fact of the matter is that you and Taehyung will never love each other the way that you are supposed to. 

“Ugh, finally.”

The elevator doors haven’t even properly opened by the time Taehyung is loosening his tie, tugging it off over his head as he stretches his head back and runs a hand through his perfectly-styled hair. As he rakes his fingers through his caramel locks, the hairspray and gel loosens, strands falling down by the side of his face, framing his temple.

“Don’t sound so relieved,” you huff out, deciding now is as good a time as any to start getting undressed yourself. Reaching down to lift up the hem of your reception dress, you tug off your heels, already feeling lighter on your feet. Who cares if Taehyung is watching you pull off your stilettos like a defeated movie heroine? You don’t think you can walk another step in those shoes. “We still have to live together, you know.”

“Don’t remind me,” Taehyung says gruffly, brushing by you roughly as he stomps out of the elevator. “I’m just glad the fucking night is over. I swear, seeing that fake-ass smile on your face made me want to gouge my eyes out.”

You storm after him, refusing to be the helpless damsel in this situation. “Oh, like you didn’t also have that exact same fake-ass smile on your face. It almost made me think you were actually enjoying yourself tonight.”

“I was only enjoying the fact that I know you hate this just as much as I do.” It’s perhaps the only thing you will ever be able to empathize with him on. Mutually relishing in the other’s destruction. Taehyung fumbles with the keypad to the door to the penthouse for a moment before you hear the lock click, the door sliding open as the entrance lights flicker on. 

The reason Taehyung’s penthouse is so clean is because he’s never lived here before. Neither of you have—Taehyung’s parents bought it just for the two of you. And as much as you absolutely despise the idea of having to live with him, at least it was not you who paid for your place of residence. 

You can tell Taehyung’s never lived here before because it’s actually quite nicely decorated inside. The ceilings are high and the sleek velvet curtains are pulled open, revealing a shimmering skyline. The furniture is modern and functional, and the whole damn place smells brand new. You’ve had the unfortunate pleasure of entering the place Taehyung lived in before now, and it looked nothing like this. The furniture was worn and stained despite the live-in maid, the house reeked of five hundred different spices that wafted from the kitchen to the living room, and the bookshelves were covered with comics, graphic novels, and old textbooks. 

If it weren’t for the fact that you and Taehyung are rich kids in their twenties that hate each other, you might have actually thought the place looked… homey. 

You don’t have time to be impressed by the interior design and architecture skills of whoever designed this place. Right now, all you can think about is tugging yourself out of your airtight reception dress and passing out on the nearest bed. Which, hopefully, will be as far away as possible from Taehyung’s bed of choice. 

“How many bedrooms does this place have?” You ask, shimmying along the floor so you don’t trip over the hem of your dress. From the looks of it, you can see one giant hallway to your right and a massive, double-sided staircase leading up. 

“Enough,” Taehyung grumbles in response. The hazy stupor from all of the fancy champagne is starting to wear off for the both of you, leaving behind two grouchy, begrudgingly-married individuals who want absolutely nothing to do with each other and have no problems making that known. Whatever golden light of the evening that was making Taehyung at least a little bit more attractive than usual has faded, and now you see him for what he really is: an unceremoniously tired man in a suit. “You want upstairs or down?”

You gaze up at the marble staircase in front of you, then back down at your too-long dress. “Down.” The last thing you want is to trip in front of the man you have to see, every day, for the rest of your life. 

“Fine by me.” Taehyung’s halfway up the stairs by the time he turns back around to say something else. “I’ll see you tomorrow, I guess?”

���Yeah.” There’s no point in being hostile now. The both of you are too exhausted to mean anything by it. Besides, what else can you say? Everything to complain about has already been complained about. At least the two of you managed to wrestle out from your parents the stipulation that you would not be going on a honeymoon together. Now that would have been your worst nightmare. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

It’s as good of a goodnight either of you are going to get. Taehyung heads up the stairs and disappears around a corner, and you start wandering down the hallway. All the bedrooms look the exact same other than different colors on the walls and bedsheets, but they all look serviceable to you. Clean. Empty. Far away from wherever Taehyung is. 

You pick the one at the very end of the hall just to be as much of a diva as possible, and don’t even bother drawing the curtains before tugging off your dress. It’s past one in the morning, and you’re so high up you don’t think anyone will be able to see you anyway. By the time you’ve stripped naked and are tugging up the too-tight sheets tucked into the mattress, your legs are about to give out beneath you. The bed could be made of rocks for all you care. Anything to lie down on is fine by you. 

Sleep comes fairly easily to you tonight. Once your head hits the pillow you can already feel yourself drifting off, eyelids fluttering shut, but you don’t sleep quite yet. Not before you can think about how this is your life now, sleeping in a foreign bed in a foreign place with a foreign husband upstairs. This is what you will be living in now. Now and forever. 

Living with Taehyung is, in both the best and worst ways possible, like living with a roommate that doesn’t give a shit about the fact that they live with another person. It’s good, because you and Taehyung hardly see each other and speak even less, which was pretty much the only thing you were asking for when it came to living with him. But it also sucks, because whenever you do happen to cross paths, Taehyung acts like you don’t exist, barely sparing you a hello or even that tight-lipped smile you send to drivers on the road when they let you cross the street. 

Not that the two of you ever engaged in energetic conversation before you got married. But at least the two of you would acknowledge each other, even if only to shoot a glare and a scowl the other’s way from opposite sides of a hotel ballroom. Maybe it’s just because it’s him, but you did always find yourself actually relishing in those little interactions with Taehyung. In this strange, twisted way, it seemed to provide some sort of continuity to your ever-changing life. Like no matter what happened, at least you would know that the two of you would always despise each other. 

To be frank, right now you’re not sure if Taehyung even remembers he got married at all.

Nights have been a lot more sleepless since your wedding day. After two weeks, the reality of it has finally started to settle in. This is your life now. And ever since you realized that, your bed has felt much less comfortable. 

“But the place is nice, right?”

You look around the living room from where you’re sat on the sleek, white suede leather couch, eyes glossing over the bookshelves, the floor-to-ceiling windows, the draping velvet curtains. From here, you can see the entire city skyline, flecks of gold from the windows of skyscrapers against a navy blue background. Slowly, as the moon creeps over the sky and the clock gets later and later, those lights will soon begin to flicker off, one by one. 

“Yeah, it’s not bad.” Nothing to write home about. That is, if home were a place other than here. 

“That’s good. At least you don’t live in, like, a total dump or anything,” Victoria says on the other end of the line. “How’s Taehyung?”

His name alone elicits this deeply-exhausted sigh from your lips, like it’s been ten years since you married and every day has felt worse than the last. “Fine.” You can’t really complain about anything yet, considering that you hardly ever see the man. 

“Just ‘fine’?” Victoria sounds skeptical. 

“Yeah,” you draw out the word, as if trying to convince yourself of its truth. “I mean, it’s like he doesn’t even live here. I barely see him. And when I do, we don’t even speak to each other.”

“That’s good though, isn’t it? You hate him.” Victoria says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. And in a sense, it kind of is. 

“I mean…”

“I know that your life hasn’t exactly… gone the way you had planned, but isn’t this your best case scenario when considering everything?” She asks. “If Taehyung is as distant as you say he is, isn’t it almost like you never married him in the first place?”

As if on cue, you hear footsteps coming down the stairs, heels clicking on the marble as they make their way to the entrance. You whip your head around to find Taehyung, all dressed up in loose, flowy slacks and a flowery silk button-down, strolling down the staircase as he scrolls through his phone, paying you zero attention whatsoever. 

He notices you briefly when he reaches the bottom, meeting your eyes with his own. He offers this measly, unenthused half-smile your way before he grabs his wallet and some house keys from the table by the entrance, opens the door, and vanishes off into the night. 

If you hadn’t been in the living room, you probably wouldn’t have even realized he left. Not that you being present as he’s planning on leaving would have stopped him anyway. This is the sixth night he’s done this in the past two weeks. You could stand by the door and stare him down as he emerges from his bedroom, all dressed up for something you’re definitely not invited to, and he would offer you that same goddamn smile and walk out the door without even blinking. Who he was before you got married and who he is now are no different. Not even a ring could change that. 

“I guess,” you tell Victoria. At least Taehyung hasn’t turned into a helicopter husband. “I don’t know. Maybe I just wish that I didn’t have to deal with him at all.”

Wish you could turn back time. Wish you could worm your way out of an arranged marriage before it was too late. Wish you could go back to the way things used to be. 

You and Victoria talk for another couple of minutes before she regretfully has to end the call, citing both her beauty sleep and an 8AM meeting tomorrow morning as her reasons for hanging up. The moment you put the phone down, you sink back into the couch cushions, staring out the windows at the world below you.

Here’s the deal. What Taehyung does in his free time is none of your business. But also, it’s totally your business, because you are his spouse. A spouse who is an equal amount in the public eye as he is. What he does and does not do has a direct impact on what you do and do not do. 

It’s no secret that when you catch Taehyung sauntering down the stairs looking like a Gucci runway model, it’s not because he’s planning on catching a movie with a college friend and then playing video games for four hours on a couch in a basement. He is going out. To clubs, to parties, to exclusive events that he’s been invited to by his equally-rich friends, all of whom are acting like he’s the same bachelor he’s always been. 

And maybe that’s the real problem with your whole marriage—other than the glaringly obvious issue that it’s a marriage wholly unwanted by the two parties involved in it. Despite the ring on his finger, Taehyung is going out and pretending that nothing in his life has changed while you’re trapped at home, desperate to save you and your family’s reputation by keeping as low a profile as possible. You would give anything to march around the city all day, flashing middle fingers at paparazzi as you shop at your favorite high-end stores and frequent your favorite clubs. But you can’t, because your family’s fortune and influence is on the line. 

And apparently, Taehyung’s isn’t. 

It sort of makes you wonder why it was even Taehyung you ended up marrying anyway. His family isn’t any richer or more powerful than yours. Your spheres have always been sufficiently separate. What was it about him, and perhaps more importantly, his family that drew your parent’s eye? And what was it about marrying you that prevented him from saying no? Money? Prestige? Influence?

You suppose you’ll never know. But whatever mystical force that convinced Taehyung to agree to this must not be as important to him as your reasoning is to you, because it’s become exceedingly apparent that Taehyung does not care that he’s married. He doesn’t care about the ring on his finger, he doesn’t care about his public image, and he most certainly doesn’t care about you.

Perhaps you were naive for thinking this, but you actually believed marriage might tone him down a little. Might age him into a real adult with real world obligations. Instead, it’s only given you a firsthand look into who Kim Taehyung has been and always will be: a selfish rich kid.

You don’t bother waiting around in the living room until he gets back, but you are still awake by the time you hear the door creak open. Taehyung makes no efforts to hide his return. You can hear him chattering loudly on the phone as he stumbles up the stairs, can tell from his gait alone that he is most certainly wasted. You don’t want to know what he did tonight. You’ll probably be able to figure it out anyway when you wake up tomorrow morning and check your social media. 

What were you thinking, marrying him? That he would change? That he would suddenly become someone that you could rely on? You had no choice when you said, “I do,” but you were at least hoping that maybe one day, one day in a long, long time, the two of you would finally see eye to eye. Maybe there would even come a time when you would genuinely love him. How foolish. 

You close your eyes and try to imagine a world where you have married someone you love, someone who loves you back.

Not unlike the many nights preceding it, tonight is sleepless. 

Unlike your marital status and general disposition, one thing that hasn’t changed about you is your love for extravagant events. Call you conceited, but there is something so much fun about putting on a fancy, expensive dress that you love and getting your hair and makeup done before going to an exclusive gala and posing in front of five hundred cameras. 

Actually, now that you think about it, maybe your wedding could have actually been pretty good, considering it let you do all those things. It’s a real shame there happened to be a storm cloud in the form of Kim Taehyung there to ruin it. Otherwise, you think you would have rather enjoyed that day. 

Tonight is the first event since your marriage where you and Taehyung are both required to show up and act like a happy married couple. Which would probably be a lot easier if you and Taehyung had exchanged more than ten words over the past two weeks. Maybe it was wishful thinking, but there was a part of you that thought you could use your arranged marriage to actually cultivate some sort of meaningful relationship between the two of you. So events like these wouldn’t be such a drain on both of you. 

When Kim Taehyung comes down the stairs, he actually doesn’t look too bad. You don’t know why this sort of thing keeps catching you off guard—like you don’t expect him to look that good whenever you see him. The problem is that you can’t even chalk up the surprise to him wearing tailored clothes or having his hair done. He just looks… good. 

Well, you suppose you do have to look at him every day for the rest of your life. It’s a good thing he’s attractive. At least he’s not sore on the eyes. 

Taehyung and his unfortunate attractiveness aside, the two of you don’t say a word to each other as you join up at the entrance, grabbing any last-minute items like house keys, chapstick, and whatever dignity you have left to spare. You send forced smiles and tight nods each other’s way in the elevator, staring straight ahead in the lobby of your building as the car pulls up to the front door.

By the time the two of you sit down in the back of the limousine, the built-up tension between the two of you is so thick you’re almost positive that even the chauffeur can feel it through the closed partition. 

If you were any more idyllic, you’d probably spend the drive over to the gala staring out the window and imagining yourself in a different life, on a train to nowhere, flowers in your hair and a journal in your hands. Or perhaps you’d be the CEO of your family’s company instead of having that responsibility passed down to a husband you don’t even want, sitting in an office at the top of a skyscraper overlooking the city. Anything. Anything but this.

But the idyllic part of you died when you realized that fantasies like that are nothing but distractions and that daydreams are for romantics and optimists and losers. 

“What’s our plan for tonight?”

Taehyung scoffs. “What do you mean, ‘what’s our plan’?”

You frown. “Well, we’re married, so we at least have to act like it, don’t you think?”

“Isn’t standing there and smiling enough?” Taehyung asks, an unimpressed eyebrow raised. 

You bristle. Maybe that sufficed for your wedding, but there was so much going on it was easy to distract yourself from the gravity of it all. But this event is not about you. It’s not even about either of your families. It’s about someone the two of you are, at best, distantly connected to, through work, through fame, through power. Which means that though the focus will not be on you, there will still be eyes looking your way. Eyes watching your every move. 

“Do you think it will be?” You challenge. Doesn’t Taehyung realize that things are different now?

Taehyung’s lips curl downwards. “What do you expect us to do, shower each other in kisses? We don’t even sleep on the same fucking floor.”

“Maybe I just expected you to act less like a stranger and more like a husband!”

Taehyung sighs. “Don’t.” The word is clipped, short. “Don’t tell me you actually want to be married.”

“I don’t.” It’s a response that you hardly have to think twice about. “But we are, and nothing can change that.” Unfortunately. But it’s a fact that you and Taehyung have both had to grapple with over the past few weeks, and it’s becoming increasingly obvious that you are more aware of it than he is. If Taehyung could have his way, he would ignore you for the rest of his life and keep partying with the rest of his bachelor friends until he keeled over and died. 

He huffs next to you, eyes staring straight ahead. You don’t think the two of you have met each other’s eyes in a week. Maybe more. They’re starting to feel as soulless as your marriage itself. “Whatever. What do you want me to do?”

“What do you think?” You cross your arms over your chest. “Just act like you don’t hate me. Can you do that?” The way Taehyung’s behaving right now, you expect that will be a challenge for the both of you.

“Only if you can. I’ll even hold your hand to prove that we love each other.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

The idea of holding Taehyung’s hand makes you want to implode. The mere thought sends shivers down your spine. But it’s better than nothing, and that’s good enough for you. At least you won’t have to kiss. 

The rest of the ride there is silent. You drive to this gorgeous mansion just outside the city, bathed in lights hidden amongst the bushes, illuminating both the architecture and the enormous fountain that sits in front of it. In a house this size, you imagine you could probably go your whole life without ever having to come across Taehyung. It actually makes you consider investing in a home that big. 

Taehyung helps you out of the back of the limousine, a cold hand clasping your own as you rest your palm against his. You can feel the way his fingers hesitate as yours make to intertwine with his as you walk towards the entrance, smiling at whatever camera flashes you encounter on your way. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think you were holding hands with a ghost. 

The moment you step inside and are ushered out of the door’s view, Taehyung’s grip relaxes on yours. For a moment, you think he’ll actually spend the rest of the night like this, a gentle hand wrapped around yours, but then he pulls it away entirely and shoves it back into his pocket. Oh. You frown quietly to yourself. So that’s how tonight’s going to go. 

You don’t make an effort to reach out towards him again. 

For an event concerning people you don’t know a damn thing about, everyone sure seems to know things about you. Other than greetings, you don’t think anyone’s said anything to you about anything other than your recent marriage to Taehyung. Every conversation is punctuated by a Congratulations! you do not feel that you have at all earned, considering you and Taehyung could barely look at each other on the way here.

Maybe Taehyung was right. All you really can do is stand there and smile.

“Oh, don’t tell me… Y/N, is that you?”

The champagne swirls around in the flute between your fingers as you turn towards the sound of your name, looking up to see a familiar face headed your way. 

Kim Seokjin is nice enough. He’s terribly handsome and got a flawless smile, but you know better than to trust those pearly whites of his. The sight of him alone is enough to make your body tense up. There was a reason you had explicitly told your parents not to invite him to your wedding. 

“Seokjin, what a surprise to see you here,” you say, forcing a smile. “I thought you were supposed to be in Switzerland right now.”

“Change of plans,” Seokjin grins back in that awful, awful way, the kind of grin that makes you feel like he’s looking right through you. “I came back early. It’s a shame, though, I missed your wedding.”

You shrug. “It was a humble affair.” It wasn’t. And you’re positive that Seokjin knows it wasn’t an accident that you didn’t extend an invitation to him or his family. 

“Ah, I see,” Seokjin says, nodding his head. He turns to Taehyung next to you, who is making no effort to hide how wholly uninterested in this conversation he is, and holds out a hand. “You must be Kim Taehyung, then. I’m Kim Seokjin. Congratulations on your wedding.”

Taehyung shakes his hand firmly, the air between the three of you growing unbearably palpable. 

“Seokjin’s father is the VP of News Daily,” You explain, eyebrows raised as you try to signal to Taehyung what exactly it means when Seokjin is speaking to the two of you. “And his mother is a popular journalist for the city’s post.”

Seokjin grew up in the world of media, and it seems he’s picked up his parent’s affinity for sticking their noses in places they don’t belong. You know he’s not talking to the both of you out of the goodness of his heart. 

Seokjin laughs, his hand waving away the mention of his parents. “Oh, please. That’s them. I’m just a bored socialite like the rest of you.”

You resist the urge to scoff. 

“Marriage treating the two of you well?” He changes the subject to what he really wants to talk about: you. 

“Of course,” you say quickly, preventing any hesitation on your end. Your empty hand reaches towards Taehyung’s, fingers searching for his between the two of you. But his refusal to join hands does not go unnoticed by you nor Seokjin, who is eyeing the space between your bodies with an eyebrow raised. “It’s just been—well, it’s just been difficult to adjust to a new life. That’s all.”

If you were to describe the face of a non-believer, it would be the exact expression on Seokjin’s face. “Perfectly understandable,” he says, that same toothy smile lacing his features. “But it must be nice, you know, to marry someone you love.”

“I couldn’t be happier,” you say, almost challenging Seokjin to say something even more inflammatory. He must know that all you’re trying to do at this point is save face. Love? Ha! As if. 

“And Taehyung?” Seokjin motions to your husband. 

You can feel the way Taehyung is stiffening beside you. “I suppose we are both lucky and unlucky in many ways when it comes to who we love.”

It’s enough of an answer to get Seokjin off your tail. For now. He bids the two of you a tense goodbye before sauntering off to go poke his nose in someone else’s business, fish for drama, a thread of a rumor he can pick apart with nimble fingers. You wonder if anybody actually likes him. 

The moment he disappears from earshot, you grab Taehyung’s wrist tightly and pull him close to you. “What the hell was that?” You hiss into his ear. 

“What?” You can’t tell if he’s playing dumb or if he really is that dense. 

“You!” You exclaim. “Kim Seokjin is the one person who could easily expose how fake this marriage is and you pull away from me? Right in front of him? You can’t even hold my hand for two seconds, that’s how much you hate me?”

“Who cares what he thinks?” Taehyung says. “He’s just another media rat. No one will even remember we were here tomorrow.”

“But if you keep acting like this, people will start to notice! Why can’t you just act like you don’t hate me, for one night? Is that so bad? Is it that torturous, to spend one night with me?”

“Do not turn this on me,” Taehyung orders harshly. “You’re making a scene. Come on.”

You don’t have time to shout at him for bossing you around like you’re a toddler throwing a tantrum before he drags you out of the venue, the two of you finding a back door to the building that leads outside. The cold air blows against your body, goosebumps popping up against your skin, but you find that the chilly night provides quite the respite after practically overheating indoors. Taehyung makes fire rush through your veins but at least the air can cool you back down. 

Nevertheless, your conversation is not over. It’s just been moved to a more private location.

“You do realize that our marriage isn’t going to suddenly go away, right? That we’re going to have to keep doing this for the rest of our lives?” You remind him, eyebrows raised. There’s a part of you that genuinely thinks he’s completely forgotten that your marriage is permanent.

“Oh, and not holding hands for five minutes for this one event is totally going to change the course of our lives, isn’t it?” Taehyung fights back.

“Don’t act like you did the right thing,” you spit out. “You don’t have to pretend in front of me. I know you don’t give a shit about our marriage.”

“What marriage is there to even give a shit about? Just because we had a wedding and signed some documents does not mean there is a real marriage between us. Look at us,” he motions between the two of you like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “We hate each other. Is this what you would call marriage?”

“But at least I’m trying to get past that!” You exclaim. “You make it seem like being as miserable as possible is some sort of badge of honor. Do you actually want to spend the rest of your life hating the person you married? Or do you want to grow up and try and move on?”

Taehyung frowns. “What I want is for the person I married to stop acting like they’re doing me such a huge favor by pretending to care about us. Especially when all they really care about is their family’s goddamn reputation.”

“No,” you tell him sternly. You are doing him a favor. He just can’t admit that he actually needs help from you. “You are putting zero effort into this. What am I supposed to do?”

“Let it go!” Taehyung shouts. “Maybe one day we’ll actually start getting along, but right now it’s obvious that neither one of us can stand the other. I don’t need you to do favors for me. I can handle it myself.”

You look away, rolling your eyes. “Doesn’t look like it to me,” you mutter to yourself. 

Taehyung cracks. “Fine. You want me to pretend that I actually care about us? I will.” Thank God. Maybe now the two of you will finally start seeing eye-to-eye. “But make no mistake about how I feel about you,” he spits. “Getting married to you ruined my life.”

You stare straight at him and his eyes are swirling, so obscured in the darkness of the night that you might even think he doesn’t have a soul at all. His pupils bore into yours and for once, for once in your goddamn life, after so many years of staring each other down at debutante balls, so many years of witty refrains and snarky insults hurled each other’s way, it feels like the two of you might actually snap. 

Then, a camera flashes.

Trouble in Paradise! would be a suitable title for the front page of the city’s biggest tabloid… if anything about your life with Taehyung could be considered paradise. Unfortunately for the both of you, that is not the case. 

You don’t need to keep reading the rest of the trashy article on the front page of the daily tabloid to know how much trouble you’re in, nor do you even have time to scroll beneath the terrible photo of you and Taehyung literally shouting at each other before you hear your phone ring. 

You don’t even bother saying hello to whoever’s on the other end. You know it’ll go in one ear and out the other. 

“I assume you know why I’m calling,” your mother’s harsh tone spits from the other end of the phone. There’s no doubt in your mind that she’s standing in the middle of her office, snapping her fingers at her fifteen secretaries as they partake in the worst damage control your family’s had to deal with since your cousin two years ago was caught with a mistress outside a high-profile restaurant. 

“Can I take a wild guess?” You’re about to be scolded into the next century, so you might as well enjoy your last few moments. 

“Don’t get cheeky with me,” your mother warns. “Care to explain why you and your beloved husband made the front page of the Daily Post today?”

“I know,” you sigh, a hand coming up to rub at your temples. It’s eight in the morning, you’ve barely looked at your phone, and you haven’t even brushed your teeth yet. It feels like you’re still asleep, and most certainly lack the energy to deal with this right now. 

Your mother, on the other hand, thinks otherwise. “You know? You know, and you still go out and do this? For everyone to see?”

“We tried to take our argument outside,” you begin to explain, but your mother isn’t having a single word of it. 

“The fact that you thought it was even appropriate to have an argument in a public setting at all astounds me, Y/N. We raised you better than that.” There’s no need for you to even see her face. You’ve grown so used to that disappointed frown over the years that it’s burned into your brain. 

“Maybe you should have thought about that before marrying me off to a man I barely know so I could be someone else’s problem instead of yours,” you bite. 

“We did this for your own good,” she hisses back. “You are married because we love you, and we want you to succeed outside of this family.”

“Then why do you care what the tabloids print about me?”

“Because being married does not mean you are no longer a part of this family,” your mother informs you sternly, lips smacking together. “Your marriage reflects on all of us, and you know that. What will people think of us when they see how terribly behaved you are?”

“Everyone acts like that, and you know it.” How could your mother preach good behavior when everyone, everyone you know, is just as spoiled and entitled as you? There’s no such thing as being altruistic when it comes to people like you. Being genuine, and good, and pure—that will get you ruined. 

You can hear her breathing into the phone when your mother responds, “But not in public, and that is the point. We expect better from you.”

“If you were so worried about me behaving so badly, then why did you even marry me off anyway? You knew that I didn’t want to. What did you think would happen?” It’s a question you wouldn’t have dared ask three months ago. Hell, even a year ago, when it was first revealed you were to be engaged, you wouldn’t have dared open your lips. But things are different now. You’re married to a man that hates you just as much as you hate him. He is making no effort to improve your relationship and seems hellbent on despising you forever. There is no way to get out of it. And if your parents really foresaw all of that, then what was the point in the first place?

“Your grandmother.”

Your mouth shuts. 

“You know she wanted to see you married before she passed,” your mother says, words clipped and biting and harsh. “She cares about you. She wanted to make sure you’d be taken care of.”

“I don’t need anyone to take care of me,” you mutter to yourself like a petulant child. In a way, you sort of are.

“If you want to stay in her will, I suggest you change that mindset.”

You freeze in your tracks. The will?

“Is that a threat?” You ask, positively dumbfounded. Are you being coerced into staying in this marriage because of your grandmother’s will?

You can hear your mother laugh, that muted, knowing chuckle of hers. “It was the deal all along, remember?”

Vaguely, you do. You remember fighting your parents tooth and nail over getting married until your grandmother revealed it was her dream to see you wed. You remember the look on her old, wrinkled face, that soft, sad smile that said she knew she didn’t have much time left. You remember agreeing, because how could you deny her? You remember her promising to remember what you’re doing for her. 

“You’re kidding.”

“I’m not.”

“But—”

“That’s the end of this conversation, Y/N. You fix things with your husband or you’re out of her will. She’s made that clear. I expect you’ll make the right choice.”

She hangs up. 

Well. 

There are a lot of ways to describe how you’re currently feeling, and you most certainly had an expensive education that would provide you with plenty of the vocabulary, but you think the most appropriate words for the current situation would be: you’re fucked. 

At least the feeling is mutual. 

Hardly two minutes after your mother’s brutal phone call, Taehyung comes storming down the stairs, hair still mussed from the night prior, his own phone clenched tightly between is fingers. Even from where you stand in the middle of the living room, you can see the way his eyes are glinting with anger, the veins popping out from his skin. 

“I just got off the phone with my parents,” Taehyung begins, not even bothering to spare a ‘good morning’ your way, “and they are fucking furious about last night.”

You shrug. “Join the club,” you mutter, arms crossed in front of you. What, does Taehyung really think you got off scot-free?

“Don’t act like this means nothing to you,” Taehyung says as he approaches you, footsteps calm despite his demeanor being anything but. “You’re the one who’s so obsessed with keeping up their family’s perfect reputation. You’re the reason we’re even in this mess in the first place.”

“What do you mean, ‘I’m the reason’?” You ask, astounded. Like he’s totally absolved of all blame and just an innocent third party. “You are the reason we went outside. You are the reason we had that argument, because you refuse to accept the fact that we’re actually married and there’s nothing we can do about it.”

“Right, because holding hands is really gonna show all those people how in love we are. I bet your parents are so thrilled right now.” Taehyung drawls. 

“It’s a start!” You shriek. “God, you’re just so—so infuriating! You can’t accept that this was your fault, too. You just have to turn everything against me and you always, always have to get the last word. It’s like you think you’ll die if you don’t.”

“Like you’re any better,” Taehyung huffs back. “You think I’m the villain because I don’t want to pretend to be in love with someone I’m not in love with. You act like us not holding hands is going to ruin our lives. It was one event! One! It’s obvious we hate each other, so why even try?”

“What, do you expect me to just sit around and do nothing? To act like everything’s fine? Like I’m happy?” As if. This marriage is the worst thing that’s ever happened to you. “While you prance around the city with your rich boy friends, going out to clubs and parties and pretending that I don’t exist? Is that what you expect from me?”

Taehyung laughs, this loud, disbelieving sort of noise, like he’s never heard such nonsense before. “Just because we’re married doesn’t mean the rest of my life has to change. Am I not allowed to enjoy myself with my friends? Or are you determined to keep me chained to your side for the rest of our lives?”

“What I want,” you punctuate every word, “is for you to stop acting like you haven’t got stakes in this, too. You think I don’t know how your family works? What being married to me means for you? Because I do. And I know that if we were to divorce, it would be you who would get the short end of the stick. Make no mistake.”

That’s enough to shut Taehyung up for a good few seconds. And it shuts him up, because he knows it’s true. Taehyung’s family may have a little more money, a little more power than yours, but you’ve got a family intimately more connected with the media. One phone call and Taehyung may have a rather messy, rather public breakup to deal with. 

“You wouldn’t,” he says, calling your bluff. 

“Are you sure about that?” You say, sticking your ground. You would never really divorce him, of course, but he doesn’t need to know that.

“I am,” Taehyung says firmly. “Don’t think I don’t know what being married to me is in it for you. What is it? Money? Power? Your father’s CEO position?”

“That’s none of your business,” you snap quickly. Maybe you’re more transparent than you thought. Bristling, you straighten your shoulders and turn back to meet his eyes. “Regardless, it seems we both have a reason to stay in this marriage.”

“It seems we do,” Taehyung agrees with a thin, contained smile. “Then I suppose we can reach some sort of agreement.”

“As in…?” Your interest in piqued. 

“I’ll stop going out with my friends if you stop picking fights with me all the time,” he says economically, like he’s killing two birds with one stone. 

“Only if you agree to also act more like my husband when we’re in public,” you tack on, because you just can’t settle for anything less. 

“Public only,” Taehyung specifies. 

You scoff. “Like I’d even want to pretend to be your wife when we’re in private.”

“Good. It seems we’ve come to a deal.”

“What’s in this for you, huh?” You prod, just to be annoying. Taehyung’s right. There’s a reason you’re not divorcing him the second you get the chance. But there must be a reason why he’s not doing the same thing. 

“Does it matter?” He challenges, a single eyebrow raised. “My life is just as awful as yours.”

Fair enough. 

“Do we have a deal?” Taehyung asks, holding out his hand, that sneaky, devilish grin lacing his features. 

Taking his hand in yours and grasping it firmly is the easiest decision in the world. His palm presses against your own, hot hand meeting your cold skin, and it feels like the two of you are finally finding some sort of balance. You look up into his eyes, burn your gaze into his pupils, watch them glint in the white ceiling light of the living room. 

“Deal.”

For two people raised on the values of reading the fine print and making educated choices when it comes to business deals, you and Taehyung sure haven’t worked out any of the intricacies of the deal the two of you agreed to. Unlike those business deals your parents constantly agreed to, however, knowing all of the stipulations and provisions of your strange, strange agreement with Taehyung may prove more harmful than helpful. 

Like right now. 

“Wait, we don’t have to be by each other’s side the whole night, do we?” Taehyung asks you, eyebrows furrowed in a knot, as you sit in the back of a big, black van on your way to a mutual friend’s twenty-first birthday bash. 

“There are going to be a lot of cameras there,” you respond. 

“Yeah, outside the entrance to the damn club. You know they won’t be allowed in, so who cares?” Taehyung rebukes. 

You huff out a little sigh, not wanting to get into an argument when you’re literally minutes away from your first public appearance since the whole tabloid debacle from three weeks ago. You and Taehyung could both do with being a bit more relaxed than you normally are when you’re around each other. 

“Hasn’t Clarissa invited hundreds of people? They’ll all notice if we aren’t together,” you remind pointedly. The girl whose birthday party you are attending is an heiress who grew up on the money of two people with a monopoly over the current artificial intelligence market and has millions of followers on social media. There will be notable people there. And people will know the two of you, as well. 

Taehyung rolls his eyes. “That’s the point, Y/N. There’ll be so many people, no one will even care. It’s her twenty-first birthday. Do you think people are going to be sober?”

You purse your lips together. He’s got a point. “How about when we are together, we hold hands. But if you see a friend or something then feel free to say hi.” Taehyung can be afforded that luxury. Especially because the chances of him not bumping into someone he knows is exceedingly low anyway. 

Taehyung nods in agreement. “You too. But I won’t leave you unless I know you’re with someone you’re close with.”

“You don’t have to stay, I’ll be fine,” you say with a small chuckle. What, is Taehyung suddenly worried, or something?

“Yeah, but it would be in bad taste if I left you with someone you didn’t know well. Or alone. Just wanna make sure you’re taken care of.” He shrugs nonchalantly, turning back to look out of the window on his side of the car. 

“Okay.” 

You don’t really have anything else to say to that. You’re sure you can handle yourself if you’re left alone for a few minutes while Taehyung says hi, but you actually find yourself rather appreciative of his resolve to look after you. Or, at least, make sure someone else is looking after you. It’s quite… chivalrous. Strikingly out of character for the Taehyung you’ve become well-acquainted with over the past couple of months. 

By the time you arrive, it’s obvious that Taehyung was right about there being so many people you two practically don’t even exist. Other than the herds of camera crews waiting outside the joint, photographing everyone that steps out of a black car to see what they’re wearing and who they’ve come with, no one seems to be paying you any attention. And in a way, that sort of nonexistence, that anonymity, it’s refreshing. Your entire life you’ve felt like all eyes were on you, like there was constantly a spotlight above your head, but here, the party centers around someone else. 

Despite that fact, Taehyung keeps his promise. He keeps himself pressed closely against you when there’s not enough space for you two to stand side by side, and he makes sure to have a hand gently intertwined with your own as you weave your way through the dozens of bodies in the room. He doesn’t say anything, of course, always looking up and forward instead of beside him, where you stand, but you find that you’re actually quite relaxed with his presence. He spots a bit of a clearing near the back of the first floor of the club, where a whole bunch of leather couches are pressed up against the brick walls, where the two of you can take a breather. 

“Damn, Clarissa knows a lot of people,” you say when you finally settle down, happily plucking a martini from a tray held by one of the many caterers wandering through the venue. 

“I doubt she’s even spoken to half of them,” Taehyung comments. “She and I have maybe spoken once… three years ago.”

“It was enough to get you invited, wasn’t it?” You point out with an eyebrow raised. 

Taehyung nods, chuckling a little. “Touché,” he says, clinking his own cocktail glass against yours. 

You take a swig of the drink, letting it wash down your throat. You’re not exactly sure how else you’re supposed to survive the night. “You must enjoy this, huh?” You muse, looking up at Taehyung from where you’re seated on the couch. He’s standing next to you, looking around the room with a distant gaze in his eye. 

“Enjoy what? The drink? It’s nice,” Taehyung says, having another sip. 

“No, I mean this,” you say, motioning toward the crowd. “The clubbing, the dancing, the drinking. I’ll bet that if you could do this every day for the rest of your life, you would.”

“I’m honored that you think so highly of me,” he deadpans. 

“Just making an observation,” you say, holding your hand up in surrender. “I mean, isn’t this what you used to do every weekend before we got married? Get wasted and party? Wake up in someone else’s bed the next morning? Muscle your way through the week just so you could do it all over again?”

Taehyung shakes his head, a knowing grin on his face. “Looks like someone keeps up with her tabloids. Let me guess, you would scroll through all of those trashy articles on your phone whenever you woke up so you could see what your future husband was doing?”

“I could have never even met you and I would know that that’s exactly what you do,” you say, even though you definitely did do those things before your engagement was announced to the public. “You’re a heartbreaker, Kim Taehyung. I don’t need to read a tabloid to know that.”

“Well, you must be quite the lucky girl, then,” Taehyung comments. “You seem to be taking up so much of my energy that I don’t have the time for that anymore.”

You place a sarcastic hand on your heart. “I didn’t know you were always thinking about me. I’m touched.”

“Don’t get used to it,” Taehyung huffs out, making the two of you both shake your heads as you chuckle to yourselves. First civil conversation you’ve had with each other in a long while, even if there may have been a few blows exchanged. 

The privacy doesn’t last long. Soon after, a huge crowd of people that could honestly still pass for teenagers herds towards the back of the club, all of them wanting to take pictures with each other. You and Taehyung do your best to stay out of the way, but one of the girls recognizes him from the Elle photoshoot he did about a year ago and begins to strike up a conversation with the both of you about your recent marriage. If she was paying attention to anything the tabloids leaked three weeks ago, she doesn’t mention it. Taehyung smiles and happily answers all of her questions, and even offers to take a picture of the group for them. The conversation ends before the two of you even catch her name. 

You’re standing by the line of buffet tables laid out against the staircase leading up to the second floor, no doubt as crowded as this one, when the opportunity for you to speak to someone other than Taehyung finally presents itself. 

“Y/N!”

You’d recognize that voice anywhere. You turn around to see Victoria barreling towards the both of you, not even caring when she accidentally spills a bit of her piña colada on the floor as she does. 

“Hey!” You exclaim excitedly. “I didn’t know you’d be here.”

“Are you kidding? I’m pretty sure Clarissa invited everyone on her, her best friend’s, her best friend’s cousin, and her best friend’s cousin’s dog’s contact list,” Victoria says with a laugh. “It’s nice to see you. I feel like you’ve been holed up in that big ol’ penthouse for weeks.”

“Damage control,” you remind her succinctly. Victoria knows enough that that’s all the explanation she really needs. 

“I don’t know if the two of you have ever met formally,” you say, thinking back to your wedding, where Victoria spent most of her time schmoozing with your parents (who love her) and didn’t even engage with any of the people who Taehyung’s family had invited. “Taehyung, this is Victoria. Victoria, Taehyung.”

“Pleasure,” Victoria says in that loud, unabashedly forward way of hers, holding out a friendly hand. Taehyung smiles back curtly, taking her hand and shaking it gently, so as not to spill any more of her drink. 

“Mine as well. I remember you were at our wedding.” Oh? So he does know her?

“That I was. Oh, I miss that day. The food was excellent. Tonight’s isn’t too bad either. Hope you’re doing well, the two of you. It’s nice to see you getting along,” she says, always the observer. 

Taehyung’s eyes widen a little when he picks up what Victoria is not-so-subtly putting down, but you place a hand on his upper arm to calm him. “It’s okay,” you tell him. “She won’t say anything.”

“My lips are sealed,” Victoria adds. 

“If you wanna go spend time with some of your friends, you can,” you say, giving Taehyung a nudge. He looks positively helpless standing in between the two of you as Victoria out-extroverts him. 

“Alright,” he says hesitantly, even though you know he’s already spotted at least ten people you’re sure he’d want to spend time with over you. “I’ll come find you soon, okay? Don’t go too far.”

You nod, and Taehyung disappears off into the crowd. Not two seconds later, you hear someone else call his name in a familiar tone. 

“I thought you said you hated him,” Victoria points out as the two of you watch his caramel brown hair makes its way throughout the crowd. 

You take another sip of your drink. “I do,” you say. 

Victoria looks at you like you’ve just told her you’ve sworn off custard-filled doughnuts. 

“What?” You ask, feeling suddenly defensive. 

“Nothing,” Victoria singsongs. “It just doesn’t look like that to me.”

“We just need to keep up a good appearance in public, that’s all. You know how mad my parents got when the tabloids leaked all that shit a few weeks ago,” you explain. You’re not sure what all the fuss is about. Taehyung said he would do these things. And he did. That was him upholding his end of the deal. This is you upholding yours. 

“If you say so…” Victoria says, not looking at all convinced. “I guess I’m just surprised that—that you two seem to be getting along so well. Maybe you being married isn’t going to be the worst thing after all.”

You stare back out into the crowd, scanning the top of people’s heads for Taehyung’s familiar locks. In the dim light of the club, you have a difficult time finding his, squinting your eyes slightly as you look around, but eventually you spot him, dancing happily with some old friends of his you recognize. He looks like he’s having a good time. And that makes you feel like maybe, just maybe, this might end up alright. 

“Yeah,” you say, though with the pounding of the bass and the alcohol already rushing through your veins, it doesn’t really feel like your voice belongs to you. You look back at Taehyung, knowing exactly where he is now, and you smile. Just a little. “I guess he’s not so bad.”

You never do get a chance to meet Taehyung’s friends that night. By the time he joins back up with you and Victoria he’s by himself, a little more drunk than when he left, and ready to go home. And for once, instead of fighting him, instead of insisting you stay an hour more just to make sure you’ve done all of your rounds, you let him take you home. 

Taehyung has been spending a lot more time at the penthouse lately. Perhaps his family’s business happenings are slow, or perhaps he’s actually starting to get more comfortable with inhabiting the same space as you, but he has definitely found himself quite the rhythm in that house of yours. He even comes down to the first floor rather regularly. 

When he’s home, Taehyung is a lot quieter than you thought he would be. Granted, you don’t exactly know what you were expecting in the first place, but it certainly wasn’t him ruminating in one of the home offices while the Beatles play softly on the stereo, nor was it him reading a book in French in one of those big old grandfather chairs in the living room. If you didn’t know any better, you’d probably think he was still absent in that old way of his, ghostlike and silent, like he was occupying the space instead of truly living in it. 

But you do know better, and even though Taehyung is just as noiseless as he used to be, the house already feels a little bit fuller. 

Perhaps the reason you’ve become so keenly aware of his presence over the past few days is because of the notable fact that Taehyung has indeed held up his end of the deal, and no longer goes out with his friends in the evening. Or at all, for that matter. Which strikes you as rather odd, because he’s the epitome of a social butterfly, a thousand contacts in his phone and a whole group of friends he regularly spends time with. Maybe his parents told him to tone down the public appearances, too. And that’s understandable, but don’t they know Taehyung? Can’t they see how much he thrives on social interaction? It almost makes you feel… bad for him. 

To remedy this, you suggest he invite over his friends. Just for a few hours, you swear you won’t mind. 

“Seriously?” Taehyung looks positively shocked when you tell him he can, standing in the doorway of the office he seems to have designated as his own. 

“Yeah, why not?” You say with a carefree shrug. Besides, you’ve never met his friends anyway, and now seems as good a chance as any to introduce yourself. You are his wife, after all. “Unless your parents say you can’t. But it’s not a problem for me.”

“You… don’t mind if I have my friends over for a bit? Honest to God, we’re probably just going to play FIFA for three hours straight,” Taehyung says like it’s some sort of warning. Like the idea of him and his buddies from college are going to sit in the living room screaming at the television, leaving you alone to do literally anything else, is somehow bad. 

You laugh. “It’s fine, really. Call them. I’d actually quite like to meet them.”

Taehyung picks up his phone almost instantly, as if you’ll change your mind in the next five minutes so he better get them over soon, and already you can see the way his face is lighting up, the way his eyes crinkle as he chats to his friends and the way his lips curl upwards when they crack a joke back. Isn’t it obvious? He feeds off of the energy of others. Who are you to deny him such a simple pleasure?

As it turns out, Taehyung’s friends actually end up being quite nice anyway. 

He invites over three, because four people is apparently the perfect number for a hardcore game of FIFA on his Playstation, and they are all very handsome men you have never met before. You suppose like attracts like, after all. 

“You must be Y/N,” says the first one you see when you open the door to let them in. He doesn’t look a day over twenty-one—in fact, he could probably still pass as a college student—and has rather long dark hair that drapes over the sides of his face, covering the edges of his big doe eyes. “I’m Jungkook. This is Jimin and Hoseok.”

“Nice to meet you all,” you say, stepping aside so they can enter.

The shortest one, Jimin, grins in response, and Hoseok, behind him, gives you a wave. It’s refreshing enough as is, not having to exchange formal greetings and shake each other’s hands like you do with everyone else. Hoseok even gives you a bit of a nod, too.“You, too,” he says. “We’ve heard so much about you.”

Oh, have they, now? Interesting. 

“All good things, I hope,” you say awkwardly, forcing a small smile as Taehyung comes bounding into the room, ears perked up at the sound of his friends’ voices. 

“Definitely. Thanks for having us over. We didn’t wanna intrude on the sanctity of your new place,” Jungkook says, gesturing vaguely to the house as a whole. He’s got this excellent, genuine grin on his face, the kind that people who are just happy to be alive always wear. 

Already he’s said enough to charm the shit out of you. Who knew Taehyung’s friends could be so… friendly? “Please, you’re welcome any time. I was just thinking Taehyung was getting a little lonely.”

“There he is!” Jimin shouts excitedly when he spots Taehyung behind the two of you, looking a lot more casual than he normally does when he’s alone with you, having abandoned his usual silky button-down and wide-leg slacks for a loose shirt and some sweatpants. You didn’t even know he had those things in his closet. 

“Hey, everyone’s here!” Taehyung exclaims, just as happy. He squeezes past you to give the three of them a big hug, and it almost makes you feel like you’re intruding on something you shouldn’t be in. Even though this is literally your house. 

“Nice place you got here,” Hoseok comments, eyes drifting around the living room. “Very minimalist, I like it.”

“Sure hope you don’t spill anything on those nice leather couches of yours,” Jungkook says. 

“Yeah, unlike Kook, who has spilled tomato soup on every shirt he’s ever owned,” Jimin jokes, earning laughs from Taehyung and Hoseok and a punch from Jungkook. 

“Moved after we married,” Taehyung says simply, shrugging his shoulders. It’s an easy enough explanation for why it doesn’t look at all lived in. Here’s hoping none of them realize you sleep in different bedrooms. 

“Yeah, congratulations on that, man,” Hoseok says, giving Taehyung a celebratory nudge in the shoulder. “Who’d have thought, out of the four of us, Kim Taehyung would be the first one to settle down.”

The way Taehyung’s body tenses up at that comment does not go unnoticed by you. 

“Seriously, I would have never guessed,” Jimin adds on. “You’re showing us a new side of yourself, Tae. But I’m happy for you.”

Normally, you’d probably take offense at such blatant insinuations that your husband was a former playboy, especially from his equally noncommittal friends. But truthfully, it’s not like you were blind to Taehyung’s transgressions either. And what matters most is the fact that since it was announced publicly, you are the only woman he’s been seen with since your engagement. 

“Me too. You seem to really like her. I’m glad,” Jungkook pipes up, sending a smile your way. You definitely feel like you don’t belong in this conversation. “I think the two of you will be good for each other.”

“Yeah, I hope so,” Taehyung says with a nervous chuckle. His eyes quickly shoot your way, the two of you meeting gazes, your hesitant expressions matching. At least the two of you are on the same page. “Alright, alright, enough,” Jungkook says. “Who’s ready to get their ass kicked in FIFA?”

“You’re on, Jeon. But when I win, you owe me a five-star dinner,” Hoseok challenges. 

“Deal.”

Hoseok, Jimin, and Jungkook immediately crowd towards the couch, and you take that as your cue to leave. But before you can disappear down the hallway, you and Taehyung look awkwardly at each other, hands tied. It’s not like you can say anything to them. 

The truth is that, sometimes, it’s easy to forget that not everyone else knows that your marriage is just for business. Sometimes it’s easy to forget that there are still people out there that believe you marry for love. 

Isn’t it crazy to think that you used to be one of those people, too?

“Hey,” Taehyung says when you meet up at the bottom of the stairs again. 

“Hey,” you respond. 

“You look nice.”

You scoff a little to yourself. What, are you exchanging compliments now? “Thanks,” you say, looking him up and down. “You’re not so bad yourself.” Like he ever is. 

“I knew you had taste,” Taehyung teases, and it’s the sort of comment that would have earned him a melon ball to the face back when the two of you were teenagers at a debutante ball, but today only earns him a roll of your eyes as you join hands. You don’t have anything big tonight—just a small dinner to celebrate some sort of business accomplishment for your family, which means that all you have to manage is not ending up in some sort of food fight by the end of the night. 

“I didn’t have a choice, did I?” You retort easily as you get into the car. 

You don’t normally speak a lot on the way to events. Not that you ever did, but even as your relationship has slowly faded from pure hatred to attempts at compromise, you both seem to relish in being able to stare out of your respective backseat windows and into the city that surrounds you. Just out of curiosity, about halfway through the ride you look towards Taehyung to see what he’s up to, and find yourself genuinely surprised to see him leaning against the window with his eyes closed. Is he sleeping? A couple more minutes of gazing at him tells you he is, because his body has gone lax and his breathing has evened out, soft snores leaving his mouth. This ride can’t be longer than twenty minutes. Has he not been sleeping well? Up in that enormous second-floor bedroom of his?

He’s awake by the time the car parks outside the restaurant, this fancy name brand steak place that was chosen solely because the biggest beneficiaries of your family’s new business deal are two sixty-year-old men whose entire diet consists of beef and beer. No cameras tonight, just a small family affair. You and Taehyung hold hands as you enter the restaurant and are led to the private room in the back anyway. 

You and him are seated on the far end of the long, rectangular table, alongside all of the other adult children dragged along to celebrate something that has no effect on their lives. But it’s nice, because the space alone prevents your parents from actively speaking with you, and you and Taehyung can stay in your own little bubble, only chiming in for a toast when necessary. 

“What are you going to get?” He asks you, the two of you gazing at the menu. No matter how fancy this place is, all the options seem to boil down to steak, steak, steak, steak, and caesar salad. Classic. 

“Oh, so you actually care now?” You counter, an eyebrow raised in amusement. 

Taehyung laughs. “Aren’t I supposed to?”

You narrow your eyes at him suspiciously, wise to his usual shenanigans. It’s hard to tell if Taehyung really means what he says, or if it’s all for show. But perhaps he’s asking because he’s genuinely curious, since no one else seems to be paying you any attention. 

“The choices on this menu are simply overwhelming,” you say, motioning to the six options in front of you. 

“I know, I’m so torn,” Taehyung jokes, making you huff out a little giggle. At least he’s still got that same sense of humor. 

You both end up going for a pretty classic steak dinner, which neither of the two of you finish because the damn portions are the size of your head. Dinner is, in and of itself, absolutely mindless, all of your parents talking about things that don’t concern you whatsoever, leaving you and Taehyung to your own devices as you desperately try to make the night go by faster. 

At one point, you notice Taehyung’s foot brushing up against yours, the leather of his loafers brushing against the toe of your patent heel. Thinking someone of it, you push back, foot nudging his back to his own chair. It’s not a second later that Taehyung retaliates, the two of you dancing around each other underneath the table. 

If the two of you were any younger, or perhaps any less resigned to your fate, there’s no doubt in your mind you would be attempting to get Taehyung to fall off his chair in an effort to do the same to you. Footsie means war. But when the both of you know that, at the end of the day, you’ll still be going home to the same place, and waking up the next morning in the same house, it doesn’t feel like this is a battle.

It’s just life. 

Eventually, you meet Taehyung’s eyes with a hesitant smile, shoe pressed against his, stuck in ceasefire. And for once, he doesn’t have that devilish look in his eye, that smug little grin on his face that tells you that he’s going to make you regret whatever it is you just did. He’s just smiling back at you, all pink lips, having found real fun in the little things. 

And that makes you happy. 

The rest of the dinner is uneventful, which, in your book, is about as good as a dinner can go. You cheers to the future of your parents’ relationship with their newfound partners and say a quick goodbye to them both, hurrying out of there before they can ask you any questions on your relationship with your husband. But you don’t spend the car ride in silence on the way back. 

Instead, you say, “Have you been sleeping well?”

The question seems to catch Taehyung off guard. He was already getting in position to take a power nap on the ride home, head pressed up against the window of the car. 

“What?”

“Have you been sleeping well?” You repeat. “I noticed you fell asleep on the way here.”

“Huh? Oh, yeah, I guess,” he says, a hand scratching the nape of his neck. “I mean, it’s been hard adjusting, I suppose. But I’ll get over it.”

Hard adjusting? You’ve been together for nearly three months now. Three months worth of sleeping in the same penthouse bedroom, on the same soft-as-a-cloud mattress, underneath the same weighted blanket. And he’s still having trouble? 

“Oh. I mean, I just wanted to ask because you seem really tired lately.”

“I got a lot on my plate, what can I say,” Taehyung says with an empty smile, forcing a chuckle. “I’ll be fine, seriously. You don’t have to worry about me.”

“Isn’t that my job?” You remind him. “I am your wife.”

Taehyung doesn’t say anything to that. He just lets out an audible breath, the kind you let out when you’re amused and have something snarky to say, but don’t have the energy to get the words off your tongue. 

The rest of the ride is pretty quiet. 

When you get home, you place your house keys in the bowl by the entrance and take off your shoes, just about ready to take a hot shower and collapse in bed, when Taehyung’s voice stops you. 

“Hey,” he begins, almost hesitantly. You look back at him inquisitively. “I was thinking, maybe, if you wanted, we could start sleeping in the same bed?”

You scrunch your nose up. Not in disgust, but in surprise. In bewilderment. What brought this on, all of a sudden?

“Really?” You ask, because you can’t help yourself. “I thought we liked the separate bed thing. Gives us privacy.”

“Yeah,” Taehyung says with a shrug, “but—I don’t know, it’s stupid. I just thought, you know, since we’re married and all. And it’s been three months.” He looks about two seconds away from backtracking, from shaking his head and going upstairs before you can say anything else. 

“Alright,” you say quickly, nodding your assent. Taehyung’s eyes widen when he hears the word, like he had completely expected you to shut him down the moment he made the suggestion. “If that’s what you want. We can try it.”

“You sure?” He asks, that same hesitant smile from earlier lacing his features. It’s strange. He almost looks… sweet. Nervous. 

You grin back at him. “Yeah, I am.”

Taehyung lets you grab some of your toiletries and your pajamas from your designated bedroom before you head up the stairs together, towards the bedroom he’s claimed for himself. Funnily enough, this is the first time you’ve been in his room. Three months of living together and you haven’t dared step foot on the second floor. 

You don’t know what you were expecting when he opens the door to let you inside. Maybe a room that screamed ‘Taehyung’ a little more than this one does. One that looks like an actual human has been living here. But other than one of his classic silk button-downs draped over a chair, there’s not a shred of evidence someone has actually been sleeping here. You could honestly be fooled rather easily that the shirt, too, is just decoration. 

“You can pick a side,” Taehyung says casually. He grabs his own sleepwear—an old t-shirt and some sweats—and heads into the bathroom to change. 

You wonder why Taehyung has had such a difficult time adjusting. This room is about as lavish as a bedroom can get. And yet. 

Sitting down on the left side of the bed, you begin to remove your own clothes, unzipping tonight’s dress and stepping quickly into your pajamas, hurrying to make sure Taehyung doesn’t catch you half-naked. How funny is that, you think to yourself. You’ve been married for three months and you still can’t bear the thought of Taehyung seeing you without a shirt on. 

When Taehyung comes out of the bathroom, hair all messy and clothes all casual, he grins lazily to himself. “I sleep on the right anyway,” he comments mindlessly. 

Within twenty minutes the both of you are about as ready to pass out as you have ever been, the only lights still on the ones on your respective nightstands. 

“Goodnight,” Taehyung says, reaching an arm over to switch his off. 

“Goodnight,” you tell him, turning off yours as well. And all of a sudden, the room is shrouded in darkness. 

You fall asleep instantly. 

When Taehyung wakes up the next morning, the first thing he says to you is that he hasn’t slept that well in ages. 

“You slept together?” Victoria shrieks, so loud you actually have to move your phone away from your ear as you punch in the code inside the elevator for access to your floor. 

“We did not sleep together,” you emphasize. “Okay, well, we sleep together, as in, in the same bed. But we are fully clothed. And not the slightest bit interested in doing anything other than sleeping.”

“I thought you said you liked having your own space,” Victoria points out. “When was the first time you—uh…” she pauses to find the right words, “shared a bed?”

“A couple weeks ago. It’s really not so bad, I don’t know why you’re so hung up over it,” you say, lips pursed. You squeeze the phone between the side of your head and your shoulder, hands full of shopping bags, the string of the handles burning your skin. Maybe you should look into getting a personal shopper. 

“I’m hung up over it because, for the longest time, you have sworn off Kim Taehyung. Called him dead to you. Insulted him every chance you get.” 

You scoff. You don’t need reminding of how much you hated him, how much you can’t believe you have to spend the rest of your life with him. “It’s different now. We’re married. And he said he wasn’t sleeping well. I felt bad.”

“He wasn’t?”

“Enough about him,” you say, shutting her up. You don’t feel like talking about him with Victoria anymore. “Word through the grapevine says that your parents are actually thinking of letting you start your own company?”

It’s enough to distract Victoria. For the rest of the ride in the elevator, she talks animatedly about a new streaming service her parents are considering letting her launch, under their parent business, of course, but it’s her own company nonetheless. And you’re proud of her. Proud she could do something your parents would never dream of letting you do. Proud she could make that happen. 

You push open the front door with the side of your hip after entering in the security code, phone still snug between your ear and your shoulder, when you hear Taehyung call out your name. 

He comes into view from the kitchen, which surprises you because you have, on multiple occasions, made fun of how much of a disaster chef he is, especially because he’s admitted to you he’s not a very good cook. 

“I made brownies,” he says, holding out a plate of the chocolate treats in front of you. Instinct has you dropping your bags on the floor by your feet and reaching out, but you eye him first, suspicious. 

“I have to go,” you tell Victoria, hanging up before she even gets a chance to object to your sudden departure. “You made these?”

“Yes, I did,” Taehyung says, rather proud. 

“And the kitchen is… still standing?” You ask, skeptical. 

Taehyung frowns at you, clearly unimpressed. “How bad of a chef do you think I am?”

“Pretty bad,” you admit with a shrug. 

Taehyung pouts sadly to himself for a moment. “These are good, I swear. Nothing weird in them like vegetables or anything either. I used a box mix.”

“No wonder they look so nice,” you comment snidely, hesitant hand reaching out to grab one. They feel like brownies. So that’s good. 

“Hey, I was the one who had to crack the eggs and shit. Three eggs! And not one eggshell in the bowl!” Taehyung says, clearly very pleased with himself. 

You laugh at his enthusiasm, taking a bite. It’s good. And exactly what you needed after a long day of shopping. “I’m proud of you. They taste good.”

“I knew you wouldn’t doubt me.” Taehyung grins.

“They’re really good, actually,” You amend, genuinely surprised. And the best part is that you can count at least ten brownies left on that plate, which means that you get at least five more. Which, if you had any less self-restraint, you would probably eat all at once within the day. 

“I’m glad you like them. They’re all for us, you know. No one else to share them with,” he says.

“Honestly, I’m probably going to finish them by tonight. You’ll have to make more tomorrow,” you say sheepishly. 

“We can make some together,” Taehyung suggests. 

“I’m looking forward to it,” you respond. The words come off your mouth easily, tumbling from your lips without you having to think about it. You aren’t saying them because you have to. You’re saying them because you want to. Because baking with Taehyung doesn’t actually sound too bad. Especially if it means more brownies. 

“You’ve, uh, you’ve got something,” Taehyung says, gesturing vaguely to the side of his lip. 

“Oh, I do? Yikes,” you say, a little embarrassed. Your hand comes up to wipe at the left side of your mouth. “Is it gone?”

“Wait, here, let me do it,” Taehyung says, reaching out towards you. He presses his palm against the side of your face, cradling your cheek and jaw in his enormous hands, and all at once it feels like your skin is on fire. 

Your body freezes up at the touch, at the way his thumb swipes at the corner of your mouth, right against your lips, wiping away nothing but a goddamn brownie crumb. You look at him, look right at him, how can you look anywhere else when he’s right in front of you like this, and it feels like you are caught in his gaze, a rain droplet trapped on a web, a bee stuck in its own honey. His big, brown eyes sparkle from the ceiling lights, a chocolate sky that mirrors the food he just made for you. He looks at you and his eyes are so soft, so open, so happy to be looking right back at you. God. 

“There,” he says, a moment too late. 

“Thanks,” you stammer out, speechless otherwise. 

You both stand there, looking at each other, wordless expressions drawn all over your faces, no idea what to do next. 

After a while, Taehyung breaks the silence. “Do you wanna order takeout tonight?”

“Okay,” you nod, still a little breathless. Taehyung smiles before retreating back to the kitchen, leaving you standing in the entranceway, shopping bags abandoned by your side. 

You look over to where he’s vanished. There’s a part of you that wishes he hadn’t left. A part of you that makes you want to see him again. 

Phone calls from your mother are never good. The last time she called… well, you know how that went. So when you see her contact information light up your home screen, it’s only instinct that you feel your heart rate spike. 

“Hello?” The voice that comes out doesn’t even sound like yours. 

There’s no good way to put what comes next. Your grandmother has died. Heart attack. The paramedics got there too late. It was over before it even started. 

For a moment, for a split second, it feels like everything is frozen. Like the world has come to standstill. Your mother’s voice echoes in your ears, suspended in time, the words turning into stone as they crash onto the floor. And when they do, it is as if everything comes back to life. 

Truth be told, you don’t know how long you stay there, sitting on the edge of the left side of the bed, your phone resting lifelessly in the palm of your hand. It feels at once like an eternity and only a second in time. You spoke to your grandmother two days ago. You had promised that you and Taehyung would visit her soon. How can this be happening?

Your phone buzzes relentlessly in your hands, condolences pouring in from every person in your contacts, sorry’s and heart emoticons and If you need anything, I’m always here’s filling up your screen. There’s a part of you that vaguely registers your mother, alongside some of the other members of your family, trying to call you. But nothing can seem to shake you. 

Until—

“Y/N? You still up here?”

You hear Taehyung before you see him. Hear his voice, hear his footsteps, hear the door creak open as he enters your bedroom. Slowly, almost sluggishly, you twist around to look at him, the mere act knocking the wind out of you. Or maybe you were already breathless. 

“Hey, you alright?” Taehyung knows instantly that something is wrong. 

“My grandmother died.” The words sit heavy on your tongue. There’s no point in not telling him. He’ll find out soon enough. He’s… he’s family, isn’t he?

“What?” Taehyung freezes in place. “I—I’m so sorry to hear that, Y/N. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you say, voice weak but steady. You blink up at him, once, twice, three times, and then suddenly you feel tears running down your cheeks. 

Taehyung doesn’t say anything else. He rushes to your side and sits himself down on the bed next to you, arms wrapping around your body. And you don’t think about the fact that it’s him, about the fact that this is the closest the two of you have ever been. You just let yourself be engulfed in his frame, let yourself be enveloped in his hold as the tears stream down your skin, little hiccups jolting your throat. You close your eyes and press yourself into his arms, head resting against his chest, and wish so desperately that so many things about your life were just a little bit different. 

It must be at least five minutes before either one of you dares to move. Your phone begins to rattle incessantly, that familiar and insistent buzz that the both of you are hard-pressed to ignore. 

“I think you should answer that,” Taehyung whispers into your skin, lips right by your forehead. 

“Yeah,” you sniffle, sitting up next to him and wiping the remnants of wetness by your eyes. Well, Taehyung’s seen you cry. There’s no going back now. “You’re probably right.” You look down at the phone. It’s your father. 

“I’ll be downstairs, okay? Unless you want me to stay,” he offers, looking hesitant. 

You shake your head. “No, it’s—it’s okay. I’ll be fine.”

“Call me if you need me,” he makes you give him a nod of understanding before he finally gets up, hands slowly removing themselves from your skin, leaving little sparks in their wake. Remnants of warmth. Suddenly, you feel much colder. Hardly a minute later he’s out of the room, and you can hear his distant footsteps as they make their way down the stairs. 

Sighing, blinking, and swallowing all at once, you pick up. 

The call passes by in a blur. Your father says the will will take at least half a year to be executed, but that the funeral is already being planned. Your grandmother had hoped you would eulogize her. You agree, but you have no idea what you will say. He says Taehyung is invited but does not need to come if he cannot make it. He says a lot of other things too, about your mother, about your cousins, about your aunts and uncles and your poor grandfather, who passed five years ago, but you can’t even remember them moments after he’s said them. 

When he hangs up, the tears on your cheeks have dried, patches of them left along your skin. You head to the bathroom, getting off your bed for the first time that day, and try to wash away everything that has stained the morning. A part of you doesn’t even want to bother, just wants to slug downstairs and eat as much sugary cereal as you can get your hands on, but you can’t go down there looking like this. Looking so helpless. 

By the time you reach the kitchen, Taehyung is already standing there, on the opposite side of the counter island, a big stack of pancakes in front of him. They look mouth-watering. 

“Hey,” he says softly. “Thought you might want something to cheer you up.”

“Did you make these?” You ask, a little endeared. That was thoughtful of him. 

“Yeah. They’re still warm,” Taehyung says. He holds out a fork. 

You grin. 

The funeral is a week later. It sucks in every way that something can suck. But not in the same way your wedding sucked, or even the announcement of your engagement. It sucks because it’s a funeral, because you have to stare down your grandmother’s casket when a part of you still doesn’t even believe that she’s gone. Because everyone there is so sad, so melancholy, dressed in all black and looking down at their feet. Because everyone is so sorry for you, so sorry for your loss, everyone has nothing but condolences to offer you. What will those do? They won’t bring her back. They won’t change things. They won’t make you feel even the slightest bit better. 

Taehyung comes. He comes because he offers, and because you want him to. You want someone whose hand to hold. Want someone to smile at you when you’re speaking in front of your entire extended family and trying not to cry. You want someone who is familiar, and warm, and there for you. 

And most of all, you want someone who won’t keep the conversation going when you get home. 

“Do you wanna order Chinese?” He asks, coming into the living room, where you have been sulking on the couch ever since you stepped foot inside the door. 

“That sounds nice,” you force out. 

“Okay. Your usual?”

“Yes, please.” You don’t bother asking how Taehyung already remembers what you like to order when you’ve only gotten Chinese twice in the last three months. 

“I’ll call them.” He disappears off into the kitchen. 

What you do appreciate about Taehyung is how he has defaulted to food as a comfort measure, and how the thought alone genuinely brightens you up a little bit. You don’t know each other very well—still, after three months, you couldn’t even say his favorite color—but he is doing his best, and he is trying his hardest. In some ways, you were unlucky to marry him. To marry someone you didn’t love. To be forced into a union you had no say in, with someone you had so much antagonistic history with. 

But in some ways, your luck has changed. In some ways, marrying him was perhaps the best thing that could happen to you. Taehyung is snarky, a little devilish, and absolutely full of himself, but he is not thoughtless. He is not heartless. He has proven that he is willing to put in the work. That he can grow to care. To change. To compromise. And isn’t that the luckiest thing you could have gotten?

“I’m sure you’re probably sick of hearing people tell you they’re sorry for your loss.”

His voice breaks your reverie, carrying throughout the wide open space of your living room. He’s grinning honestly where he stands, slowly making his way over to you. 

“Kind of, yeah,” you admit. “It’s not going to bring her back. Most of those people probably don’t even mean it.”

“Don’t say that,” Taehyung says, sitting down next to you. “I’m sure they do.”

You look at him skeptically. 

“I mean, they’re sorry for your loss because that loss is causing you pain. And that sucks,” Taehyung explains, albeit a little less eloquently than you thought he would. “I know it sucks for me.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t like seeing you sad,” Taehyung says honestly, shrugging to himself. 

You scoff a little to yourself. “I would have thought my downfall would be the exact thing the great Kim Taehyung would wish for himself.”

“Maybe a couple of years ago.”

You narrow your eyes. 

“Okay, maybe even a few months ago,” Taehyung admits with a laugh, making you smile, ever so slightly. “But it’s different now. I like it when you’re happy. When you’re snarky and funny and a little evil. Seeing you like this… I don’t like the way it makes me feel.”

“That’s called empathy,” you point out. 

“I’m trying to tell you that seeing you sad makes me sad, stop being a smartass,” Taehyung chides, and that really makes you grin. “There. There’s that smile I was looking for.”

“You’re so annoying,” you say, even though there’s no malice behind it. You give him a little push, palms of your hand pressing lightly against his shoulder as you roll your eyes. 

“Only for you,” he promises. He manages to grab a hold of your wrist as your hand meets his torso, pulling you into him as he wraps an arm around your torso. You gasp a little at the sensation, head falling against his body, fitting snugly in the crook of his neck. He gives your side a comforting rub. “I’m sorry today was so shitty.”

“It was,” you agree. “But Chinese food will make it a little bit better.”

Taehyung looks positively scandalized. “What? ‘Chinese food will make it better’? But not your loving, doting husband?” 

You pretend to think for a little bit, tilting your head up to the sky as you tap your chin with your finger. “Okay. Maybe that, too,” you cave after a bit of waiting, just to be extra bothersome. 

“That’s what I thought,” Taehyung says proudly, looking down at you, eyes sparkling. You can feel his grip tighten as he presses you against his body, letting you rest your head on his side. It feels like the longest hug ever, like you’re wrapped up in a weighted blanket. Only it’s not a blanket. It’s Taehyung. It’s your husband. 

He’s your husband.

“Tomorrow will be better,” he says, and it sounds a lot like a promise. 

You nod against him, letting your eyes drift shut. Things are pretty awful right now. Your grandmother’s dead. The funeral was the saddest family event you have ever attended. You have no idea what’s supposed to happen next. 

But he’s right. He seems to be right a lot these days, actually. 

Tomorrow will be better.

Taehyung lets you sleep in for the next few days. Next several days, actually. Every time you wake up it’s close to noon and your husband is nowhere to be seen, the right side of the bed cold to the touch. It’s nothing to be worried about, though, because you can still see the noticeable dip in the bed from where he lies upon it, sinking his weight into the mattress. Taehyung’s an early bird and you’ve been having fitful nights ever since your grandmother passed. 

Today, you pull yourself out from underneath the covers around noon, sluggish and still tired, squinting as the near-afternoon light streams through the enormous windows of the bedroom. Taehyung must have thought to keep the curtains open today. 

You pull on the first casual clothes you see in your shared closet, some wide-leg sweatpants and a drapey t-shirt, and trudge downstairs like a raccoon to a trash can, hoping to fish through the kitchen cabinets to find something to eat. 

Taehyung is, as far as you can tell, nowhere to be seen. You can’t seem to hear him anywhere, and a part of you wonders where he’s at when you stumble upon the note left on the granite counter. 

Had a meeting downtown, be back around 1! There should be smoked salmon and some cream cheese and bagels in the fridge. 

Taehyung.

You chuckle to yourself as you read his flowy handwriting, amused that he thought to let you know of, of all things, the available breakfast foods in the kitchen. You check the clock. It’s nearly noon. Which means you have just over an hour of the house all to yourself. 

Having the house to yourself for five minutes is infrequent enough as it is, let alone for a whole hour. So often is Taehyung around, somewhere, holing himself up in one of the dozens of rooms or mindlessly wandering down the hallways. And for how much Taehyung is present, the funny part is that you still have no idea what he gets up to most of the time. Despite your voluntary abandoning of the separate bedroom rule, the two of you are still firm proponents of the sanctity of your personal spaces. There are rooms in the penthouse Taehyung has never been in, rooms filled with your clothes and makeup and accessories for when stylists come over before an event. A sewing room that you had specifically asked your parents for, because a part of you never let go of that childhood dream of being a fashion designer. 

And there are rooms in the penthouse that you have never been in. Rooms with dark wooden doors that have always been kept closed, that you have never stepped foot in. It’s not that you aren’t curious as to what Taehyung gets up to. He could have a goddamn evil lair in one of those rooms and you would be none the wiser. But you don’t go, because he doesn’t go into your rooms. Because you two, despite all the vows you have broken, promised each other you wouldn’t.

An hour to yourself is almost a good enough excuse for you to head back up to the bedroom and take a nap. Not that you don’t get enough sleep on a regular basis, or that you even had a fitful night last night—hell, you woke up near noon today and already you want to go back to sleep—but what else is there to do when he’s not around? What new freedoms have suddenly been given to you?

You head back upstairs, much less groggy after that delicious bagel of yours, when you catch a whiff of what smells like wet paint coming from down the hallway. It’s potent and immediately invades your senses, prompting you to wonder if that has always been there, or just magically appeared. Maybe you were so sleepy earlier, you didn’t notice it. 

Well, you notice it now. Unable to help yourself, you start to wander down the hallway, towards the source of the smell. God, it stinks. It takes you back to those days in middle school, when you would spray paint projects inside a tiny little classroom, have to step outside for fifteen minutes while you cracked the windows and aired it out. It gets stronger the further down the corridor you go, like a thick, smelly cloud stationed firmly within the walls of the penthouse. And then you realize where it’s coming from. 

It’s an art studio. 

A very messy art studio, you amend to yourself, as you peek inside. The door is wide open, and all of the windows are popped too, but the extra air circulation doesn’t seem to have made a dent in the scent. And all over the floor, the walls, and the tables are canvases covered in paint, denim jackets and pants and shirts with these wide, unafraid brushstrokes. Open cans of spray paint lie discarded on the hardwood floor stained with splotches of red, yellow, and green. 

Is this what Taehyung does in his free time? Is this where he goes, this bright, sunny room at the end of the second floor hallway? Is this what he is making?

You look down in awe at the clothes resting on the floor, splayed out to maximize dry time. Abstract faces, landscapes, and words are painted onto the backs of jackets, the fronts of old white t-shirts. What hasn’t made it onto the clothes has been put on canvases instead, blurs of color mixed together in this purposeful pattern, confidence emanating from every stroke, every dot. It’s not art in the way that the gorgeous landscapes of Monet, the picture-perfect portraits of Kahlo, the messy, unplanned splatters of Pollock are. It’s art in a different way. In a Taehyung way. 

Who knew he loved it so much? 

You almost feel like an invader encroaching on his territory when you lean down to start cleaning up some of the mess, throwing out empty spray-paint cans and tossing out grey paint water. You don’t dare touch any of the work, don’t dare try to move it. You do what you can, washing out the brushes resting in the water and cleaning up the wet splotches of paint on the hardwood. Over time, the thick scent of still-wet paint slowly fades, disappearing out the window as the fresh afternoon air seeps in. And you stand there, in a room full of art, in a room full of pieces that Taehyung has undoubtedly poured his heart into creating, and you smile to yourself. 

That’s how Taehyung finds you ten minutes later, peering into the room after declaring that his meeting had ended early. 

“Thought I’d find you in here,” Taehyung says with a grin as you jump at the sound of his voice, eyes widen when you turn around to see him standing by the door. 

“Oh, hey,” you say sheepishly. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

“Maybe because this is the farthest room in the house from the front door,” Taehyung teases lightly, coming up behind you. “I see you found my studio.”

“I know I’m not allowed in here,” you admit. 

Taehyung scoffs. “Who says?”

“Didn’t we both agree on that?”

He shrugs. “Sort of. I think we just reached an unspoken understanding we wouldn’t invade each other’s personal space. But it was not in the fine print, no.”

“The fine print of what?”

“That deal we made.”

Right. That deal you made, four months ago, That deal, where the two of you agreed to pretend to be in love with each other during public appearances so you wouldn’t get burned at the stake by your families. Where the two of you agreed not to interact with each other otherwise because you hated each other so much. 

“Oh, yeah,” you say distantly, feeling naive for already forgetting about it. It doesn’t seem to have slipped Taehyung’s mind whatsoever. 

“It’s okay, I don’t mind that you’re up here,” Taehyung says, interrupting that piercing little voice in the back of your head that is asking you why on earth you forgot about that deal in the first place.

“Yeah, I—” You scratch at the nape of your neck, trying to find the words to say. “It just smelled like paint, so I wanted to see what you get up too. And it’s this, apparently.” You motion vaguely to the entire room.

“You sound… surprised,” Taehyung muses correctly. 

“I guess I am,” you surmise. “I’m rather impressed, too, actually.”

“Really?” It’s Taehyung’s turn to sound surprised. 

“Yeah,” you tell him honestly, looking into his eyes. “I—you know, I just came in here because the entire hallway smelled like wet paint and I wanted to know why. But I didn’t know you loved art so much.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” Taehyung points out. 

You suppose that’s true. You don’t know his favorite color. His favorite song. His favorite book. For a long time, you didn’t know what he got up to on his side of the penthouse. You don’t know how he met his friends. What he studied in university. Who he has loved in the past. Who he loves now. You don’t know why he does the things he does, and why he doesn’t do the things he doesn’t do. 

But you do know his Chinese takeout order. 

And you do know his hobbies. Well, one of them, at least. 

Who’s to say you can’t learn more?

“Well,” you start with a smile. “I’m your wife, aren’t I? Shouldn’t I begin to learn?”

Taehyung picks up what you’re putting down instantly, grinning in response. “Only if you’ll tell me things about you, too,” he requisitions. 

“I will,” you promise. It’s the easiest one you’ve ever had to make. 

His face is light, bright, bathed in the rays of the afternoon sun. His eyes shimmer as they meet yours, golden flecks more pronounced like this, in this gorgeous, open space, daylight streaming through the windows. Looking at him makes you feel like you are surrounded by warmth, makes you feel like the sun is opening its arms out to you. He has always been gorgeous. Beautiful. But looking at him like this, standing in the middle of a room filled with all the things he loves, a yellow halo surrounding him—he is ethereal. 

Taehyung smiles. “Then I will, too.”

The hand-holding comes naturally tonight.

The funny thing is, actually, you don’t need to hold hands at this gathering. It’s not an event. Or a public appearance. It’s not even a business dinner. It’s your aunt’s sixtieth birthday party, reserved exclusively for family. Isn’t that strange? That Taehyung is, technically, family now?

For so long you had vowed to stay as far away from him as possible. Vowed to stick it to him whenever and wherever you could, do anything you could to get on his nerves, rile him up. Vowed that when you, one day, took over your family affairs, you would never, ever invite him. Make it known that he wasn’t to be a part of your life. And yet, here you are. Clinging to him despite being well-acquainted with—loved by, even—every other person in the room. Holding his hand like a goddamn lifeline. 

To be fair, Taehyung doesn’t look a hair out of place here. Dressed relatively casually, a smart sweater with a collared shirt underneath it, he smiles warmly at all of your relatives and presents your aunt with a beautiful and very expensive scarf the two of you had commissioned from a designer in Italy, which she absolutely loves. She pinches his cheek and proceeds to wear it for the rest of the night. 

“Damn,” you murmur to yourself as you wander around your aunt’s house, hand wrapped around his arm. “This place hasn’t changed a bit.”

“When was the last time you were here?” Taehyung asks. 

The question actually makes you think for a moment. “I don’t know, maybe five years ago? Last couple of birthdays I was overseas or in school. Had to send her a card.”

“Bet your parents were real pleased with that,” he jokes, making you both laugh. At least you two will always be able to share your experiences of domineering and influential parents with each other. 

“Oh, I’m sure. Just as pleased as they were when they realized how much we hated each other.” You expect that little jest to elicit a laugh out of Taehyung as well, but he just smiles tightly, huffing out a breath of acknowledgement. 

“Eh, it’s not like that now, is it?” He offers up. 

“I suppose not,” you muse, sitting down together on her ancient grandma couch in the living room. No matter how rich your family gets, she’ll never get rid of this thing, that’s for sure. 

One thing you’ve picked up over time is that, for every second Taehyung spends basking in the spotlight, he spends an equal amount of time lingering by the wall, watching the rest of the world turn without him. He’s an observer. He is one by nature, feeling an irresistible pull to understand humans in a way only artists could ever do. He sits down next to you and watches your family in an environment where they can relax, where they can feel comfortable and be casual with one another. 

Very seldom have you ever brought friends to events like these. Small family affairs. But Taehyung isn’t a friend, is he? No, he’s your husband. He belongs here just as much as you do. 

“My family seems to really like you,” you point out. Not that anybody has ever harbored as much disdain for him as you. Your parents called him respectable and polite when they told you you were to be wed. Your grandmother had said he was a dashing young man. He doesn’t exactly have to reach far to be loved around here. 

“That’s my job, isn’t it?” He replies snidely. 

“Oh, just take the compliment,” you say with a roll of your eyes. Taehyung always has to be so difficult. “I’m surprised you aren’t nervous as hell. Last boyfriend I brought to meet my parents was shaking in his Louis Vuitton shoes.”

“Last boyfriend, huh?” Taehyung’s interest has been sufficiently piqued. “And, uh, how many of those have you had?”

You narrow your eyes at him suspiciously, smile twitching on your lips. “Wouldn’t you like to know, Mr. Heartbreaker.” Pretty rich of Taehyung to be asking you such a question when he’s probably had more girlfriends than you can count on both hands. “Not as many as you’ve had girlfriends, that’s for sure.”

“Guess I’m a lot different than all those trashy guys you’ve dated, aren’t I?” He asks, an eyebrow raised as he looks at you. 

“You are?”

Taehyung nods assertively. “Well, yeah. First of all, I’m your husband. Second of all, your parents love me. Third of all, you love me, too.”

You scoff. “Don’t humble yourself. You don’t know me that well.”

“Speaking of which,” Taehyung says, eyes wide as he points to you knowingly, “how about you tell me a little fact about yourself? It’s my job to learn about you, isn’t it?”

“That is my line, watch it,” you sneer, pointing back at him. You wrack your brain for a fact that you can tell him, something more exciting than your favorite color but less weird than one of those terrible icebreaker exercises you had to do in college seminars. Something that has pertinence to who you are. Who you’ve become. “Alright. I used to want to be a fashion designer when I was little.”

Now that catches Taehyung off guard. “Really?” He says, genuinely intrigued. 

You shrug. “Yeah. I learned to sew when I was really little. Been tailoring and hemming clothes all my life. But I always wanted to design my own stuff.”

“Is that what’s in your room?” Taehyung asks. “A sewing machine?”

“Bingo.”

“Wow,” Taehyung says. “I didn’t know that.”

“Isn’t that the whole point of this exercise?” You say, just to be smart. 

Taehyung shakes his head, eyes rolling. 

“What about you?” You ask. You can’t imagine what he’ll say. Astronaut. Veterinarian. Or, if he really wants to surprise you, a business executive. 

“A museum curator.”

It is an answer that simultaneously surprises and doesn’t surprise you at all. 

“Fitting,” you muse. “You could have put your own art on display.”

“Pretty sure that’s, like, super unethical,” Taehyung reminds you. 

“So? You’re rich. Start your own museum. Put your own art on display. Live your dream,” you amend. “It shouldn’t be holed up in that studio of yours forever. It deserves to be seen.”

Taehyung smiles at you. “You think so?”

You nod. “Of course. You create beautiful things, Tae.” It’s the first time you’ve ever called him that. And that is not lost on Taehyung, either.

“Thank you,” he says softly, blinking as he looks at you. He doesn’t say anything else. He doesn’t need to.

Later that night, when everyone’s gotten a few drinks into their systems and Bruce Springsteen is playing low on the stereo, Taehyung disappears off towards the bathroom, no doubt because of the excellent soup that was served that night. All by your lonesome, you feel a little stranded, surrounded by your old relatives dancing on the hardwood floor of the dining room, your other cousins too young to actually spend time with. 

In the commotion, your mother comes up to you, swirling a rather large glass of red wine in her hand. 

“Where’s Taehyung?” She asks. 

“Bathroom.”

“No wonder you were alone,” she says with a hearty laugh. “The two of you have been glued to each other’s sides all evening.”

“He’s my husband,” you offer as an explanation. 

“I know, I know,” she says, shaking you off with a smile. Your mother is a lot more casual once she’s had her fill of wine, no doubt her favorite, Bordeaux. A lot more loving, too. “You really made your grandmother proud, you know? She loved you so much.”

“I know,” you say, trying not to get choked up at the mere mention of your grandmother. 

“She was so happy to see you with Taehyung. It made her feel safe that you would be taken care of,” she continues on, barely paying you and your swimming eyes any attention. “She would be so happy to see you with him now, too. How much you love her.”

“I miss her,” you hiccup out, trying to compose yourself. Nothing kills a birthday party like some sad sack crying over her deceased grandmother. 

“I know, darling,” your mother says, calling you by a nickname she has hardly used ever since you turned eighteen. She squeezes you tightly, a small hug of comfort. “I miss her, too.”

Someone calls your mother’s name, distracting her as she wanders off to your uncle, who is asking what the best way to cut the three-tiered cake on the dining room table is. She bids you a goodbye before disappearing towards the kitchen, no doubt ready to make the cutting of the cake an affair all on its own. 

Taehyung comes back soon after, spotting you instantly as you stand around in the living room. 

“Hey,” he says, noticing the wet shimmer of your eyes. “You alright?”

You nod, feeling better already now that he has returned. Now that he is by your side. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“I hope those tears aren’t because you missed me,” he says, wiping away a stray one that has escaped from your eyes. You close them as his thumb brushes against your upper cheek, your eyelashes, opening them only when you’ve felt his touch vanish from your skin, leaving little sparks in their wake. 

“No,” you say. But the night makes you honest, and a couple of drinks, even more so. “But I’m glad you’re here.”

Taehyung smiles. “Me, too.”

For all those days you have spent together, never have you and Taehyung had a night in. Which isn’t necessarily completely surprising, considering how many evening events the two of you have had obligations to attend, considering your differing work schedules and meeting times. Considering that, for a very long time, the two of you had no desire to spend any time with each other at all. 

But tonight, there is nothing on your calendar. No galas, no dinners, no meetings, no schedules. There is only Taehyung, who has spent the entire afternoon up in his studio, inhaling spray paint fumes and doing what he loves. And there is only you, who has spent the entire afternoon wondering what the hell you’re going to do tonight when there is nothing else planned. 

You knock on the door to his studio, catching him right as he’s finishing up another piece. This one is a single flower, painted in broad, confident strokes, bright green and red and sunflower yellow decorating the canvas. 

“Hey, what’s up?” He asks, turning around to face you. 

“Wanna order takeout tonight?” You suggest. 

Taehyung grins. 

Thirty minutes and your favorite Chinese food later, you and Taehyung have settled onto the couch, trays of dumplings and noodles and rice in front of you, an unfunny movie playing in the background. 

You can’t remember the last time the two of you sat on this couch together. Maybe that night you had made the deal? Perhaps not even then. It wouldn’t at all surprise you if you found out that this was the very first time you and Taehyung have sat together on your couch, in your living room, in your house. So often is it occupied by others—Victoria, who sometimes comes over to ooh and ahh at your closet, Jimin, Jungkook, and Hoseok, who sit on this couch and play FIFA like it’s their job, your mother, when she wants to make herself at home in a place that doesn’t belong to her—but never you. Never you and him. 

“This is kinda nice, isn’t it?” You ask, swallowing a bite of dumpling. 

“Chinese food is always nice,” Taehyung responds over a mouthful of cold noodles. 

“Not that,” you say with a sigh, “this. Sitting together. Watching this shitty movie.”

“It’s not that shitty,” Taehyung tries to reason. On screen, the main character is getting pied in the face during some weird college fundraiser. “Okay, it’s a little shitty. But it’s good background noise, right?”

You nod halfheartedly. “I guess.” Silence. You take another bite of your dumpling, not really sure how to continue the conversation. “We don’t really get to do this a lot, you know? Sit and eat dinner and watch a movie together. Like a date.”

“We’re on a date now, are we?” Taehyung muses, eyeing you snarkily. 

“Isn’t that what this is?” You retort. 

He shrugs. “I suppose it is.”

“Tell me another fact about you,” you request, looking over to him where he sits on the opposite side of the couch. 

“About what?”

“Anything.”

Taehyung pauses, ponders for a moment. But he could never say anything wrong. Not when there is still so much you don’t know about him. Still so much you want to learn, so much you want to commit to memory. For so long you have stared at the planes of his face, the curve of his nose, the twinkle in those dark brown eyes. Those you will always remember. But what about who he is? What he loves? Those are things you still don’t know. 

“The very first time I met you,” Taehyung begins, “I asked Jimin what your name was.”

“When was that?” You ask. Despite you being someone who has spent the better part of the last several years vowing never to give Taehyung the time of day, you sure don’t remember when it all started. 

“That debutante ball,” Taehyung remembers fondly, “when we were fifteen. I asked Jimin what your name was because I wanted to ask you to dance.”

“Shut up, no you didn’t,” you say with a scoff. 

“It’s true. You were standing there in that poofy white dress and I wanted to ask you to dance,” Taehyung points out. The fact that he even remembers what you were wearing is shocking. 

Who knew. Who knew, back then, that you would one day grow up to marry him. 

“And what did I say?” You demand more. 

Taehyung laughs at the memory. “I came up to you, and I asked you if you wanted to dance, and you said, and I quote, ‘Who are you?’”

“No,” you say, aghast at your own behavior. Were those really the first words you ever said to KIm Taehyung?

“You did. Don’t you remember?”

You think back. Think back to every year you have ever known Taehyung, every year you have spent scowling at him from across ballroom floors, making some snide remark as you pass by each other in the hallway. Every year you have spent cursing his existence, willing him away from you so he could bother someone else. Every year you have listened to rumor after rumor of girlfriend after girlfriend. You think back and somewhere, somewhere in there, in those dusty corners of your brain and cobwebbed boxes of your heart, is that first memory of Taehyung, too. 

Of him standing there in some generic black suit, black hair swept over his forehead, shoes too big. Of him coming up to you, trying to be as suave as a fifteen year old could be. Of you saying to him, instead of a hello, or even a what’s your name, “who are you?” 

Of him saying—

“And you said, ‘your dream come true’.” Like a dam bursting open, the memories flood back to you all at once. “I remember that.”

Taehyung laughs out loud at the thought of him saying something so cheesy. “Unsurprisingly, you didn’t want to dance with me.”

“You were so—” you begin, but you don’t have the words. Don’t have the words to express how you felt about him that night. Don’t have the words to express how you feel about him now. Thinking about this, talking about it, it is a bridge. A bridge between what was then and what is now. A bridge between who Taehyung was and who you were and who Taehyung is and who you are. “—so unthinkable. I couldn’t believe you had come up to me and said that. I couldn’t believe you had the audacity. But something about that night made me remember you. Made me remember your name.”

“You thought about me after that?” Taehyung asks. “Is that what you’re telling me?”

“There is something about you that is unforgettable,” you say, honest and real and true. What else can you tell him? The truth is that you have always thought about him. Whether you liked him or not. 

You finish your dinner and place your trays on the end tables next to you, stacking your empty bowls and plates on top of one another as the movie rumbles on in the background. 

“It is kind of a shitty movie,” Taehyung admits after a while of being wholly unenthused. 

“Yeah,” you agree. “But it’s good background noise.”

Taehyung laughs at your little mockery, warm and deep and from his belly. You look at him. He feels so far away, on the other side of the couch. Feels like he’s miles apart from you. You have spent countless nights clinging to his harm, hand gripped tight in his. And sitting like this, a full couch cushion of space between the two of you—it isn’t enough anymore. So you inch closer. 

And closer. 

And a little closer. 

Until you’re pressed up against his side, legs touching as they rest neatly in front of you, backs stick straight as you stare at the television. 

Taehyung holds his arm up. An open invitation. 

Without asking, you lean into him, resting your head in the crook of his shoulder, in the space right underneath his jaw. You pull your feet up onto the couch and curl into his frame, pressing yourself against him. He is warm and firm and inescapable. He smells of coffee and paint and Chinese spices. He wraps his arm around you and pulls you in, as if there were any other place you’d rather be. 

You sit like that for a while. Wrapped up in each other. Lazing around on the couch as the stars twinkle above your head. The movie ends and the two of you don’t even bother skipping the credits, letting them and the cheesy 80’s pop song play on, a distant soundtrack. 

“I never thought any of this would happen,” you breathe out. 

Taehyung looks down at you curiously. “What? This?”

“All of it,” you admit. “Us. Getting married. That stupid tabloid picture. My grandmother. This. It’s all so new.”

“New things will happen all the time,” Taehyung muses aloud. “We can’t help when things change.”

“You don’t have any regrets?” You have plenty. Regrets that you’ll never become the CEO you wanted to be in college. Regrets that you’ll never become the fashion designer you wanted to be as a little girl. Regrets that you will come to resent this marriage, resent Taehyung more than you have in years past, all because you had no choice. Regrets that your grandmother couldn’t see you now. Regrets that there were so many things in your life you could have changed, but didn’t.

“I thought I did,” Taehyung tells you. “I wanted to spend more time with my friends. I wanted to major in art in college. I didn’t want to marry you. I know you didn’t want to marry me.” He looks down and you look up at the same time, eyes locking, inches apart. “But looking back on it, I’m happy where I am. With what I have.”

“I never thought it could ever be like this,” you say, words falling off your tongue before you even ask them to.

“What?”

“Us.”

There’s no need to elaborate. Taehyung understands. He understands that, half a year ago, you both would have thrown yourselves into a volcano before holding hands with each other. He understands that getting over your hatred for each other seemed like an absolutely insurmountable task. He understands that you had never wanted to marry each other, that you couldn’t believe you would have to spend the rest of your lives with each other. 

And he understands that now, things are different. 

“I’m glad things happened the way they did,” Taehyung begins. “I’m grateful for us.”

You press yourself impossibly closer to him, feel his grip tighten around you. Like this, you can hear his heartbeat. Hear it thump like a drum, steady and firm and unwavering. His heart beats against his chest and you wonder. 

You wonder if he can hear the way yours beats for him, too.

There were lots of things that made your night in together special. But one of them is the glaring fact that you don’t get them very often. That their infrequency makes them all the more valuable. 

This has become blatantly obvious to you, because right now you are not spending a night in together. Right now you are stuck at a gala that you have to attend for the sake of business, drinking thin flutes of champagne and mingling with people you barely speak to. 

The one good thing about nights like these is that Taehyung looks positively gorgeous in suits. He sort of always has, but you’d never admit that to his face. At least not until now. And as his wife, you are lucky enough to have a front-row seat. 

“I can feel you staring at me all the way from over here,” Taehyung deadpans as he helps himself to a chocolate-covered strawberry from the buffet table. 

You’re too obvious to have any shame about it. “What can I say, I like the view.”

“Hard to believe I was the once the one being shouted at for being inappropriate in public,” Taehyung says with a shake of his head. He bites into the strawberry and eats it all in a single go, tossing the stems into a bin nearby as you join back up in the heart of the crowd. 

“It’s only inappropriate if other people hear,” you tease, letting him guide you, hand intertwined with yours, towards an empty corner where the two of you can snuggle up to one another in (relative) peace. 

“I don’t think the champagne was very good for your filter, Miss Y/N,” Taehyung hisses into your ear, warm breath tickling your skin. 

“Don’t you mean Mrs. Kim?” You pose, an eyebrow raised. 

That seems to do something to Taehyung. It’s not very bright in here, with it being nighttime and all, but even still you can see the way his eyes darken. See the way his lips curl upwards, feel the way his grip on you tightens. It sparks something within you. Something deep in the pit of your belly. 

Something that makes you want more. 

You test the waters. “Mrs. Kim has a nice ring to it, don’t you think, Tae?”

Taehyung looks about a moment away from losing control. But instead of slamming you against the wall in front of all of these people and giving you what you really want, he growls out, low and powerful, “Home. Now.”

He doesn’t need to tell you twice. 

You hail your car outside of the venue and it’s all the both of you can do to not jump on each other right then and there, in the backseat of this giant black van, overcome with want, with need, with everything in between. Taehyung’s leg bounces impatiently the entire ride back, and the feeling of your hand pressed against his doesn’t seem to be calming him down. He pulls you close to him in the backseat of the car, a hand resting on your thigh. You eye him carefully, as if challenging him to be any more daring. He grins. 

Home cannot come soon enough. The two of you tumble out of the backseat and into the elevators, where you mash the top floor button after entering in the security access code, desperate and shameless. The ride seems to take hours, and the heat that surrounds you practically smothers you, covers you, fills up your lungs and chokes you. 

There is nothing left by the time you reach your door. The moment it slams shut behind you Taehyung presses you up against the back of it, pins you against the wood as he hovers over you, eyes tracing your lips. 

“Tell me something,” he demands. 

“What?” 

“A fact. Something I don’t know.”

It doesn’t take much thinking. “I want you,” you breathe out, watch it hit his skin, watch the way his eyes glint in the light of the entranceway. “Please, Tae. I want you.”

It’s enough for him. 

This is not the first time you and Taehyung have kissed. The first time was nearly five months ago, in a chapel, at an altar, surrounded by hundreds of people. It was so unfun that you seem to have eradicated the mere thought from your memory. But you remember that feeling from that day. That feeling you got when you pressed your lips against his, cemented your marriage with a kiss. That heat. That sting. 

Kissing him now—that feeling has returned tenfold. When his lips meet yours, it feels like fire is rushing through your veins, setting alight every nerve it passes, unforgiving and relentless. His enormous hands come up to cup your jaw, fingers pressing against the skin of your cheeks as they pull you close to him, keep you trapped in his hold. This is not the first time you and Taehyung have kissed but it feels like it is—it feels like there is a lotus blooming on a lilypad in your heart, it feels like you have been struck by lightning, it feels like nothing else you have ever felt before. It feels brand new. 

Pressing back against him, he slowly releases you from the cage he has created against the door, spinning around so the two of you can tumble up the stairs and into your bedroom, unable to resist sneaking in pecks here and there as you make your way upstairs. Every step you take you stop, giggle as he presses you against the railing just so he can steal another kiss from you, put his hands all over your body. It’s a wonder the two of you even make it into your bedroom at all. 

When you do, however, all bets are off. Taehyung presses you against the still-made bedsheets with a glint in his eye and a growl on his lips, pupils blown wide as he stares down at you, at your body.

"Aren't you a sight? Laid out so pretty for me," he purrs, robbing a breath from you.

It's a tone you have yet to hear from him. You find yourself growing impossibly hot under his stare, burning with an uncharted desire.

You can hardly wrap your brain around it. Here you are, craving the man you had spent the better half of your young adult life loathing. Maybe it’s the champagne; maybe it’s the way his fingers are running slowly up the length of your clothed torso. Whatever it is, your stomach does flips, unfamiliar to the way your body preens under his touch.

"Don't let it go to your head," you tease, simply because you could.

Taehyung hums disapprovingly, pressing kisses into your neck as he grabs one of your thighs and wraps it around his waist, riding your dress up in the process.

You sigh, exposing your neck further for him as he paints bruises into your neck. It feels like just yesterday you had called him out at the altar for his habit of sporting the very same marks you were soon to wear.

Perhaps you should have thought twice about letting the man you had married purely under business pretenses press his hips against your clothed center, but as he rolls his into yours, your mind falls blank, silencing any and all reservations you should have.

Whimpering, you beckon his mouth back onto yours, tongue meeting his wantonly. 

You feel his fingers creep up the outside of your bare thigh, thrilling you in the most primal way. Reaching the band of your underwear after what felt like entirely too long, he runs the pad of his thumb against the lacy fabric.

 You could scream. He is doing this on purpose. He must be. Surely he knows how badly you were aching for him? For him to fill you– whatever the manner may be.

You let out a whine before you can help yourself, frowning as Taehyung looks pleased with himself, confirming his knowledge of your prolonged pleasure.

"What's that? Did you say something?" he mocks, looking cruel and yet strikingly gorgeous as he smirks above you.

"God, you're irritating,” you huff, hips jerking up against his as he pulls at the band of your underwear, the elastic snapping back into the flesh of your hip. "Just fuck me already."

He tuts, clearly unimpressed by your impatience, "Now, where is the fun in that?"

Your eyes flutter shut as his fingers suddenly snake their way between your thighs. Mouth falling ajar, you grip his shoulders as he runs his middle finger against your clothed slit, trailing up and down your warmth. To think he was still dressed while he was touching you like this...

"No... I think I'll take my time with you," he says.

You mew against his hand, arousal forming against his long digits' ministrations. You have to hand it to him. Taehyung knows what he’s doing. The life of a bachelor has seemingly served him well.

You aren’t usually vocal in bed, but the way he’s purring words of filth to you, breath hot against the shell of your ear as he tells you how hot and slick your pretty pussy felt against his hand, has you gasping and sputtering, your own fingers wrapping around his wrist.

The fabric of your panties provides a friction that toys the line of pleasure and pain, making you thrust up to meet his motions, your humility slipping from you.

Taehyung watches you intently, cock growing hard under the constraints of his dress pants. You look better than he could've imagined, eyes watering and body shivering under his touch, his fingers soaking with your arousal. He can only imagine what you'd feel like with his fingers fully buried into you, rocking them against your velvety walls.

He lets out a groan of his own, turned on by the idea of you fucking yourself onto his fingers, whimpering out his name in ecstasy.

There’s this part of you that faintly recognizes that Taehyung has done this plenty of times before. Plenty of times with plenty of other lovers. But there is a different part of you, that part that bursts with light and hope, that reminds you that he was never married to those other ones. That his allegiance lies with you. And that thought, knowing that deep within you, he is yours, makes your jaw fall slack, pretty noises tumbling from your lips and your thighs clamping around him.

You were close, closer than you care to admit. Every touch against you is careful yet deliberate as he reads the signs of your body, the way it keens and arches into him, offering you words of encouragement as your climax finally hits.

"That's right. Good girl. Let go for me," Taehyung coos, eyes dark and focused on your writhing form.

You cry out into the familiar space of your shared room, head thrown back as you ride out the high, letting it wrack your body, send jolts throughout your veins.

You barely have time to catch your breath when he presses his mouth back onto yours, kiss still as eager as it was when you both first entered your home. You are alight with satisfaction as he pulls away to press a trail of kisses against your jaw.

"I want—f-fuck," you stutter as he finds your already hypersensitive clit once more, rolling his thumb over your now soaked panties in tantalizing circles, "want to make you feel good, too."

Admittedly, this fantasy had crossed your mind once or twice, brought on by the way he carried himself in a suit and the way his large fingers wrapped around the champagne glass; confident, collected, and entirely charming. Who are you to shy away from a man like him? He certainly has always been rather good-looking. 

He pauses his motions, pulling his hand back to sit on your waist. Your dress is of the finest, most delicate satin, and after tonight's activities, completely wrinkled. You can almost hear your stylist's cries of dismay. Whatever. You have a steamer. And why focus on the dress when it’s obvious the two of you are focused on what lies underneath it?

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." You nod, skin still burning from your past climax.

Helping you back up, Taehyung stands. You lick your lips as you sit back up on the edge of the bed, watching intently as he unbuckles his belt, audibly hissing as his pants fall to his ankles, cock visibly straining against the fabric of his underwear. Thank God you don’t have to stand. With the way your thighs still felt weak and how your husband looks like a goddamn Adonis towering above you? Your legs surely would give out underneath you if you rose.

Brows furrowed, Taehyung palms over himself briefly before pulling down the waistband of his underwear, his painfully hard member slapping against his torso.

Your eyes widened on instinct. While the last thing you wanted to do was help inflate Taehyung's already large ego, you were certainly impressed at his size; thick and girthy, his tip red and shining with precum.

He couldn't help but smirk, thoroughly pleased by the way you stared at him unabashedly, chest rising and falling heavily.

"Open up for me," he orders.

And who are you to deny a request from your dear husband?

Your pretty lips wrap themselves around his engorged tip, all remnants of lipstick long gone by now. Taehyung hisses, a hand finding the side of your jaw as you run your tongue against the underside of his cock.

"Fuck, you're so pretty," he grunts, fighting off the urge to grip the back of your head and fuck your throat. As much as he'd love your have you choking and drooling all over his cock – and boy would he – he lets you set your own pace, not wanting to overwhelm you.

It doesn't take long for you to sink your mouth further down, however, clearly set on making Taehyung feel as good as you could.

A low moan erupts from his throat, digits pressing into your jaw in request to take more of him in, which you happily oblige.

You had your eyes trained on him, completely obsessed with the way he panted through pink lips, hissing slightly every time your tongue rolled over his sensitive tip.

Lolling his head to a side, his eyes meet yours, gaze primal and wolfish as he watches the way you worked his cock.

"Doing so good, love. Doing so fucking good for me,” he murmurs.

You hum against his skin at the sound of the sudden pet name, an unfamiliar feeling fluttering in your belly. You push aside the feeling, focusing instead on the way he grunts at the new sensation you had just given him.

Giggling, you pull off his cock, opting instead to press a kiss against his leaking tip, making sure to hold his eyes as you run kitten licks against it.

"God, you're such a tease." He shakes his head in disbelief. 

He looks so good above you, shivering and cursing out praises on how good your mouth feels, how well you take his cock. Running your tongue along the length of his shaft, you become certain that this is a display you can’t imagine yourself ever getting tired of. But you have all the time in the world, right?

"Y/N,” he gasps suddenly, hips jerking towards your face. "Love, I'm gonna-- gonna cum."

"Cum in my mouth, please." Your voice was pleading and desperate. Taehyung had never heard such words spoken more sweetly. 

"Fuck's sake."

You let out a yelp in surprise as his fingers work their way through your hair, bringing your head back down onto his cock. You relax, though, when you feel the hot ropes of his cum hit the back of your throat, your hands finding purchase on his thighs as you do your best to swallow it all down.

Pulling yourself off him, you let out a small cough, eyes watering slightly as you hadn’t managed to prepare yourself with a breath before his release. His large palm runs across the top of your head as you caught your breath, expression flickering with something unfamiliar. Could it be... fondness? 

Your heart stammers at the thought as you stand, slowly stepping out of your dress, letting it drape off of your figure. Taehyung looks absolutely gobsmacked, pupils dark as he gazes at you, eyes unabashedly raking your body. He’s shameless. 

You both are. 

Slowly, you step towards him, fingers reaching out towards his shirt, carefully undoing the buttons as you gaze at each other, expressions unreadable. 

"Tae?” You ask innocently, blinking up at him. “Fuck me?" 

Your polite request makes Taehyung chuckle. 

"Please?" You bring your bottom lip between your teeth, eyes blinking up at him adoringly for good measure. You reach the last button, let his dress shirt drape open. He brushes it off himself, stands there for a few seconds just to let the way you’re ogling his toned chest go to his head. At least he’s good-looking. 

He sighs, probably contemplating some clever rebuttal, but eventually decides against it as his cock is already twitching back to life.

"Alright, love. Turn around. On your knees for me," He orders, making your stomach flip.

To your surprise, you are hardly in place when the warmth of his large hands finds the soft of your tummy, pressing you back into his chest as he pressed a peck to the back of your neck.

You squirm in his hold, whining as that same hand of his grabs hold of your breast, long digit rolling your nipple between their tips. You can’t help but press your ass back into him. His cock feels hot and heavy, pressing against the back of your thigh, making your pussy clench in anticipation. 

You want him.

You want him so bad that you don't know what to do with yourself, shuddering as his free hand runs along the side of your ass, leaving scorching hot trails on your skin wherever he kneads into your flesh. He's touching you everywhere – everywhere but where you need him the most, and the arousal that drips down your thigh mocks you.

"Dammit, please!" You exclaim, running out of patience.

"Please what?" He says, an eyebrow arched.

You shiver, committing the way his middle finger traced your pelvic bone to memory forever.

You puff out a frustrated breath, nearly at your wit's end. "Please fuck me, Tae."

Taehyung pauses, grip on your breast and hip tightening as he lets out a moan. You let one out yourself as you feel him readjust, cock pressing against your slick entrance.

"Fuck, you sound so pretty when you say my name," He grunts. "Okay, baby. I'll fuck you. Begging so nicely for my cock."

You let out a squeak as you're suddenly pushed down onto your hands, back arching as he pushes his fat cock inside your heavenly cunt. He's thick, so thick, that you instinctively grip the sheet underneath you, fingers curled around them tightly as if it means to hold onto your sanity.

Taehyung lets out a shaky breath, angling your hips up so that you could take more of him.

"You feel—feel so good," he admits above you, and suddenly you wish you could see him. See the way his bangs stick to his damp forehead—see the way his tongue swipes over his bottom lip wickedly.

You let that thought go, however, as he thrust into you, making your jaw fall slack and eyes flutter shut. Profanities roll off your tongue unabashedly, helpless under the way his thick member pulls out of you, only to slam back into you.

You weren't expecting this. The way he stretches you out further than anyone had before. Your pussy clenches around him, reveling in the sweet, sweet burn.

He digs into the flesh of your hips, holding you steady as you mew and cry out, pushing your hips back in time to his, trying your best to meet his movements.

"Tae... fuck, fuck, fuck—"

He was filling you to the brim. Filling you tight and deep.

God, the way he was panting behind you was music to your ears. His cock pulses every time you call out his name, voice muffled and buried as you had your head pressed into the mattress, hair messy and bouncing with every hard thrust.

"S'good! Fuck... so, ah, big..." you cry out.

You feel drunk. Intoxicated off this beautiful man and the way he makes you feel a way only he can.

You nearly let out a sob as the rough pads of Taehyung's fingertips suddenly reach around you and find your neglected clit, rolling light circles on the soft and swollen bundle of nerves skillfully.

You are a mess, whimpering and drooling into your expensive sheets, and he filled every inch of you, leaving no place undiscovered. Your high nears, stewing on low heat somewhere near the pit of your belly, waiting for a chance to erupt and wash all over you. Taehyung must be close to, you realize, as his thrusts began to slow down, slamming into you roughly as if chasing after his high.

"Gonna take this load? Huh? Gonna let me cum inside your pretty little pussy?" His voice is straining, as if trying to breathe evenly but merely moments from falling apart.

If only you could formulate an intelligent response, but instead, you are a blubbering wreck, thighs shaking as they threatened to give out underneath you. But somehow, Taehyung knew. He had you. Quicking his motions against your delicate pearl, he could tell you were close too, and he was going to make sure you got there.

Suddenly, you're crying out and convulsing, tears brimming at the ends of your eyes as you feel Taehyung empty into you, collapsing onto his hands as well.

You feel his hot breath against the back of your neck as he pants, breath growing more and more even as the two of you regain control of your bodies and minds.

Pulling out of you, he plops down beside you, and for a moment, the two of you hold each other's gazes, eyes speaking in ways words never could.

Finally, after what feels both like an eternity and just a moment, you work up the courage to say something, moving closer to him as you place a hand on his chest, cushioning your chin as you rested on top of it.  

"Psst," you beckon, voice hushed.

"Yeah?" His voice is husky and tired.

"I’m grateful, too."

"Huh?"

"I’m grateful for us, too."

Taehyung's gaze is soft, and it lingers on you for a second before the sides of his mouth curl up tenderly. He grins down at you, eyes drifting shut. You feel him squeeze you closer, pressing you against his skin. And then, you hear his breathing steady, see his lips part slightly. 

You lean into his chest, eyelids fluttering. “Thank you, Tae.”

Not unlike the many other mornings you have awoken in this bed, when you open your eyes as the morning sunlight streams through the windows, Taehyung is nowhere to be found. The sheets on his side of the bed are flipped aside, revealing that soft outline of his body from the night before left imprinted into the sheets, a dip in the mattress where he slept. You had fallen asleep all wrapped up in each other, tangled up like vines, but must have separated sometime during the night. Distantly, you register Taehyung’s voice outside, notice his phone missing from his bedside table. He must be on an early morning call. 

You check your phone for the time. Ten o’clock. 

A late morning call, then. 

Still basking in the afterglow of the night prior, you slowly inch your way out of bed, shivering as you pull the covers off you and scoot your legs around so they hang over the edge of the bed. You rub at your eyes until you faintly remember you did not take your makeup off last night, and when your hand comes away covered with black streaks and flecks of mascara, you wince to yourself. There goes five hundred dollars worth of a skincare routine. 

After washing yourself up and applying as many serums as you can to your skin, you wrap yourself up in one of his button-up shirts, the torso so wide that it drapes over you. The tips of your fingers peek out from the ends of the sleeves, and you cross your arms lightly over your chest as you make your way to the door, ready to entice your husband back to bed for round two. What? It’s Saturday. 

You peer around the door to find Taehyung standing a few feet away, facing away from you. He’s shirtless, and as his wife you have absolutely no problems ogling him, the toned curves of his back, the muscles in his arms. He’s always been a looker. You just finally have an excuse to look for yourself. 

You approach him quietly, not wanting to interrupt nor broadcast your sex life to anybody on the other side who may be listening. Already, the idea of crawling back in bed together sends goosebumps along your skin, makes you giddy with anticipation. You’re just about to tap him on the shoulder, lips curled upwards in suggestion, when he says—

“And my inheritance? That’s secured now, right? Because I said I would pretend to be in love with her in public—?”

And it is as if Medusa herself appeared in this room, turning you to stone as your heart thuds to the floor, a hollow, empty noise. 

You don’t hear the rest of Taehyung’s conversation. You don’t even hear the sound of your own heartbeat. This terrible, aching sound rings in your ears, silencing everything in its wake, drowning out even the sighs of your own breath. It is as if you have been frozen solid. As if you have been shot in the stomach. You stand there, feeling absolutely nothing, and all you can do is brace yourself for what is to come. Taehyung’s words were the knife but his next actions will be its removal, leaving in its wake an irreparable wound. 

He turns around, casual and cool, voice still hushed. As if you were still asleep. As if you hadn’t heard anything at all. But when he twists his body and sees you standing there, staring back up at him, lips parted in shock. 

“I’ll call you back,” he tells whoever was on the other side of the line, looking more panicked by the second. He opens his mouth so he can explain himself, but you don’t need him to. You’ve heard everything already. 

“I should have known,” you say, feeling angry and betrayed and sad all at once. “I should have known it was all an act.”

“Y/N, wait, let me explain—”

“What is there to tell me, Taehyung? What are you going to say? That you didn’t mean it? That you thought I wouldn’t find out? That last night was just a one-off?” You demand. The heat from your veins hasn’t left. Still, it simmers through your blood, burning you up from the inside out. “That you didn’t want to lie to me?”

“It’s not like that and you know it,” Taehyung says defensively, brows furrowed. “Just give me a chance to explain myself.”

“Explain yourself? How you pretended, every day and every night, just so you could get some more money in your bank account? So you could make sure you would get your father’s business when he died?”

Taehyung bites back easily. “Don’t act like you weren’t also faking it at some point. I know you were almost removed from your grandmother’s will.”

Your tongue is bitter at the mention of your grandmother. As if Taehyung ever even knew her. “My grandmother has nothing to do with this.”

“Really?” Taehyung challenges. “So you wanting to stay in her will was just a little bonus, right?”

“Don’t,” you say sharply. “It’s different.”

“Different how?” Taehyung spits. “Because right now, to me, it looks pretty similar to what I’ve done.”

“My grandmother died months ago,” you remind him. Her will is no longer the question. It has been written, settled, and executed. There was no reason for you to continue playing along once she took her last breath. No reason—unless you wanted to. “Meanwhile you’ve been keeping your inheritance a secret from me this entire time.”

“We made a deal,” Taehyung says. “A deal that said we would both act happy and pretend to be in love because we both had things we needed to worry about. Family things. Money things. You were a part of this, just like I was. You pretended, too.”

“Well, maybe I stopped pretending!” 

You can’t take it anymore. All this anger, all this emptiness, it’s been bubbling up inside you ever since you heard those first words come out of his mouth. It spills out of you all at once, an eruption from your lips, your heart’s doors bursting open. You have held his hand tightly in your own. You have pressed your lips to his. You have laid yourself bare in front of him. What is there left to protect? What part of you has not already been stained by him, by his touch, by the feeling of his fingers against your skin?

The hallway is silent, but you can hear your cry echo down the corridor. Hear the way it bounces along the walls before fading away. 

“Maybe I stopped pretending,” you repeat, softer this time. You blink and already can feel the streaks along your skin, the tears falling from your eyes. “Did you ever think about that?”

“Y/N, what are you talking about?” Taehyung looks like he’s in disbelief. Like he cannot believe the words you are saying to him. 

Well, that makes two of you. 

“Can’t you see, Tae? Can’t you tell?” You ask, the nickname falling from your lips before you can even help it. You must remind yourself to change that, later. “I’m in love with you.”

They are words you have never said to someone before. Not even your old boyfriends. Words that you always knew you would reserve for someone special. Someone who would touch your heart and make it their own, someone who would leave imprints of their fingers against your chest. Someone who would brighten you up from the inside out, leave you bursting with light. 

Ironic, that Taehyung has become that someone. When he is the one person you never thought could. 

When he has proven, time and time again, that you two just cannot mix. Oil and water. Pastel and acrylic. Satin and silk. 

“You don’t have to say anything,” you spit out quickly, before Taehyung has a chance to respond. “I know it doesn’t matter to you.”

“Y/N, yes it does,” Taehyung begins, desperate and pleading. “I know you heard what I said, but I swear, it stopped being an act for me, too. Things are different now, just like you said.”

“Don’t. Please.” You pull away as he reaches out towards you. Faintly, you remember that it is his shirt you are wearing. Remember that no matter what you do, he will always surround you. “Please, Tae.” You have nothing left. You can’t bear to look at him, but where else will you go? You cannot believe the things he’s said, the things he’s done, but where else would you go?

“I love you, too,” Taehyung says, and a part of you wants so badly to believe him. 

A part of you wants so badly to ingrain those words into your head, carve them into your heart, let him wrap his arms around you and promise that everything will be alright. But things are different now. Just like you said. You and Taehyung are not the same people you were six months ago. Or six weeks ago. Or even six minutes ago. You are helpless and he has proven that he does not care. 

“I have to go,” you say, looking away. You don’t think you could handle turning back to him again. “Please, Tae.”

“I’m sorry,” Taehyung says, and he reaches out once more but you are not there to meet him halfway. Were you ever?

“I know,” you whisper back.

You duck into your bedroom and pack a suitcase of everything you need. Being here is suffocating. Being with him is like setting yourself alight. 

Victoria has no questions when you show up at her door later that day, suitcase by your side and this ridiculous bottle of Merlot in your hands. You had picked it up on the way over. You sort of figured you might need it. 

“You don’t wanna talk about it, do you?” Victoria asks. 

“Tell me about your streaming service,” you hiccup in response.

Victoria is happy to oblige. She even tells you that she still hasn’t picked a CFO, and that the position would be open for you if you ever wished to take it. 

Funnily enough, what will become of you once your father retires and passes along the company is the furthest away from your thoughts. 

You remember being so worried about that. Being so worried that, once they married you off like every good daughter should be, you would be absorbed into your husband’s life, cut out of your family’s. Your father would choose a cousin, an uncle, or even a friend to take after the business, bestowing upon you a thoughtful inheritance but nothing more than that. All of those years of schooling, finance in college, your MBA soon after, would be wasted, just so you could hang on the arm of your husband for the rest of your life. 

It’s thoughtful of Victoria to think of you for the position. She knows just as well as anyone else that you would be an excellent fit. And if things were just a little bit different, you would be jumping at the offer. 

But your future career plans are on the backburner, along with the rest of your life. 

All you can really do, right now, at this very moment, is wait for things to change. As they always do. 

“Don’t you have an event tonight?” Victoria asks about three days into your stay. She’s given you her favorite (her words, not yours) guest bedroom and an enormous closet to match, despite you only coming over with a carry-on’s worth of clothes. 

You scoff to yourself. “Like I’d want to go to anything with him.”

“Have you even called your parents?” 

“No,” you say, not even caring about the repercussions. There’s no doubt in your mind that they’ll be ringing you soon. And when they do, maybe then you’ll finally work up the courage to tell them what really happened. Tell them that you can’t go back there. Not yet, at least. 

“I’m sorry that this happened to you,” Victoria says as she hands you a bowl of vegetable soup, homemade from a couple of days ago. You nod to yourself, sniffling as you curl into the couch cushions and wish they would absorb you whole. 

There’s no need to ask her what she means by ‘this’. Everything. From your engagement to the marriage, from those tabloids to the deal, from your grandmother’s death to now. It has all been unfair. Life is unfair. And while you’ve always known that, it has been particularly cruel to you as of late. 

Still, when you wake up sometimes, you can still feel him tracing over your skin. Feel his lips hovering over yours, breath fanning out over your cheeks. You turn over and expect to see him lying there, on the right side of the bed, sheets mussed as they cover his figure. You wake up and for a brief moment, for that split, split second, there is peace. And happiness. And love. 

And then there is nothing. 

“Yeah,” you sigh. “Me, too.”

Maybe he really does love you. Maybe things really did change. But you have always been a pragmatic person, always let your head guide you rather than your heart. The secret’s out. Taehyung had an inheritance he needed to secure. You were his path to doing so. Those things haven’t changed. No matter if his feelings did. 

“Hey, look at this,” Victoria says, brows furrowed as she holds out her phone in front of you, revealing a livestreamed interview from the event tonight. 

You peer over. 

It’s Taehyung. 

Of course it’s Taehyung. Who else would she be showing you?

He stands in a clean-cut gray coat, draping over his figure, black dress shirt and slacks underneath, belt wrapped neatly around his hips. He holds his hand up in a wave and smiles politely to the cameras, to the reporters, letting the flashes wash over him like waves in the ocean. 

“Mr. Kim! Mr. Kim!” Someone calls. “Where’s your wife?”

Oh, God.

Taehyung grimaces a little, pursing his lips. “My wife won’t be joining me tonight.”

“Can you tell us why?” They shout. 

“Sorry, no more questions. Thank you for asking though. She’s well,” he says, quickly ushering himself along, entering the venue so no more reporters can bombard him. When he disappears, the livestream immediately moves on to the next guest, but you hardly pay them any attention. 

“Huh,” Victoria says aloud. 

Indeed. Taehyung’s response strikes you as rather odd. Why would he tell the public that? Why not make up a lie, say you’re sick, or you’re overseas, or you’re just late? Why simply tell them that you won’t be there? Surely, Taehyung is just as aware of the consequences of arriving at an event without you as you are. There’s no doubt that his parents will be in contact with him soon, too. No doubt that this will leave a stain on his family. His image. It might even threaten his inheritance after all.

So why not lie?

You frown to yourself, nose scrunching up in confusion. You don’t like where this train of thought leads.

“You okay?” Victoria asks when she sees the bewildered expression on your face.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” you say. Just completely befuddled. It escapes you, why Taehyung wouldn’t just make up some sort of excuse as to reasoning behind your absence. Why he would even show up at the event at all. Certainly, going to the event without you is worse than not going at all. It prompts questions. It spreads rumors. 

Later that night, you get a call from your parents, demanding to know why you weren’t there with him. You say you got sick. You plead with them not to question anything. 

You wonder what happens next. You and Taehyung still have two more events this week. A dinner and a ball. What will you do then?

Taehyung goes solo for the dinner. You suppose you could have predicted that, considering his apparent willingness to arrive alone for the first event, too. He hasn’t made any efforts to contact you and for once, you’re glad for his silence. Not that you even know what he would say to you, anyway, but at least he isn’t begging you to come back to him. 

The sad truth is that if he did, if he got down on his knees right in front of you and willed you to come back home, you probably would. He has always been impossible to resist. Even when you first met him, when he sauntered up towards you and told you he was your dream come true. You didn’t know it then. But he was. He was everything you would ever want. 

Why would he lie? 

Why would he do that?

You can’t wrap your head around it. What is he getting out of it by telling the truth? By admitting to the paparazzi, to the reporters and the cameramen, that you won’t be there with him. That you will not be joining him. Nothing, certainly. His parents must be furious. His inheritance may be on the rocks. His image might tank. 

So then, why do it at all?

Could it… could it be?

Is it true?

You have loved Taehyung for a long time. Longer than you probably even care to admit. You have always held your head high at events, spoken loudly and without fear, but being with him made you feel safe. Secure. You would hold his hand and know, know that he was holding yours, too. It grounded you. It soothed your worries. 

Does he really love you back?

Taehyung smiles politely and laughs when he needs to at these events, but he doesn’t look the same. Even through the screen you can see those bags under his eyes, that spark that has faded. You hardly recognize him. He looks so lonely, without someone by his side. So distant. 

When you know the dinner has ended, you almost pick up the phone and call him. 

Almost. 

Instead, when the ball rolls around, you ask Victoria if she’s got a spare dress she can lend you.

 Kim Taehyung, for someone you have seen covered in paint splotches, wearing old college hoodies, and fresh out of a restless night’s sleep, cleans up pretty well. For a married man, at least. 

You wonder what the past few days must have been like for him. If they have been as empty as your own. Wonder what it was like, riding alone in a big black van to this hotel ballroom, no one to tease, no one to laugh with, no one to hold. No one to poke him awake if he accidentally fell asleep. No one to make sure he’s okay. 

Taehyung stands right outside of the entrance, waving politely to all of the paparazzi, smiling as the cameras flash, giving them the time of day for a moment before he heads inside and muscles his way through another event without you. 

Or so he thinks. 

You spot him just as he opens his mouth, ready to repeat those same lines all over again.

My wife won’t be joining me tonight. She’s well, though.

And maybe it’s just because you haven’t seen him in nearly a week. Maybe it’s just because he is about to lie to those reporters once more, ready to face whatever consequences come his way. 

Or maybe it’s just because you miss him. Miss him terribly, have been missing him terribly. Being away from him was necessary, but that didn’t make it any less unbearable. Not getting to hold his hand, see his smile, meet his eyes. You and Taehyung may not have always liked each other, but you saw him every day regardless. He became a constant in your life. Not an if, but a when. If everything went to shit, you always knew he would still be there. 

And there he is. 

“Wait! Taehyung!”

Taehyung’s eyes widen as he hears your voice, gaze darting around wildly, mouth parted in surprise. He looks around desperately, scanning the crowd, meeting the eyes of every single person in front of him until he finally looks to the left, sees you rushing up towards him, hiking up the skirt of your dress as your heels tap against the sidewalk. 

And when he spots you, sees you running up to him, his body relaxes, a weight lifted from his shoulders as he beams back at you, relieved and thankful and filled with joy, all at once. And you know, then. 

You know that everything will be okay. 

“Sorry I’m late,” you say sheepishly, cheeks burning as he looks at you, takes in every inch of you, breathes you in and lets you fill him up. 

Taehyung doesn’t respond. You reach out to hold his hand but he grabs your wrist and pulls you in, presses you against his body as he presses his hands against your cheeks, palms burning as they meet your skin, and he kisses you. In front of all these people, he kisses you. 

And goddamnit, you will kiss him back. 

It feels like lightning, like a thunderstorm, like the waves of the ocean are crashing against your heart. It feels like fire, like flames are licking at your veins, sending sparks through your blood. It feels like home. 

You and Taehyung ignore the shouts of reporters, the flashes of cameras, the honks of the cars on the other side of the road. When you part, he presses his forehead against yours and lets the tip of your nose meet his. And you smile. 

“Don’t be alone any longer, Mr. Kim,” you whisper, loud enough so only he can hear. 

“When I’m with you, I never am, Mrs. Kim,” he murmurs back. 

You wonder what those tabloids will be saying about you tomorrow. 

The rest of the night finds the two of you pretty much inseparable. You wrap yourself around his arm and for the first time in a long time, he presses his hand against the small of your back, keeping you close. Like he’d ever lose you again. 

One of your least favorite parts about attending balls used to be the dancing. As a young and eligible bachelorette, you would always have to lock hands with another, let him awkwardly guide you along to the music as you made the worst small talk imaginable, forcing laughter and smiles whenever he said something he thought was particularly funny. 

But, like so many others, things have changed. Things are different now. 

The waltz comes on and you and Taehyung are the first to reach the center of the ballroom floor, letting him rest his hand on your waist as you press yours on top of his shoulder. Let him twirl you around the room as the orchestra plays in the background, a soft, sweet, light little melody that carries you along. 

“I missed this,” you say softly. 

“I missed us,” Taehyung corrects. He pauses for a moment, swallowing hard. “I’m sorry for not telling you about my inheritance.”

“I’m sorry for storming out. I should have listened to you.” you respond easily. You both have plenty to apologize for. But night is darkest right before dawn. 

“I should have said something,” Taehyung says with a shake of his head. “But I was just so—so worried that something would go wrong. And I didn’t know how to explain how I felt about you. I acted in the beginning, too, but then things changed.”

“They always do,” you muse with a grin. 

“I couldn’t believe I had you,” Taehyung admits. “I mean, look at you. You’re gorgeous. And funny. And true.”

“Go on,” you tease, even though you do nothing to hide the smile inching its way across your face, the heating of your cheeks, the simmering of your skin. 

“Oh, shut up. You know what I mean.” Taehyung rolls his eyes. “I just—I felt something for you I couldn’t explain. I still can’t.”

You don’t have to prod any further. You know. Deep within your heart, you know. There is love blossoming in his to match the garden that has bloomed in your own. The flowers that have sprouted in the ashes. He has them, too. And when those petals open and the light streams in, he will know. He will know, too. 

“You make me crazy,” you tell him, whispering gently into his skin. “But I’m a better person when I’m with you. I know I am.”

“I meant what I said, that night,” Taehyung says. Makes you wonder which night he’s actually talking about. “That I’m happy that things have changed. That things happened the way they did. I’m grateful for us.”

“I am, too,” you say. And you are. 

You rest your head against his chest as you dance together, swaying back and forth to the beat of the drums, to the strums of the violins, all wrapped up together like ivy, like vines. Those, too, sit in that garden of yours. Keep you tethered to his side, keep him close to yours. He holds you in his arms and he smiles, because he knows, too. Knows that that garden in your heart will soon have a matching one in his. A mirror image of who you are. Who you’ve become. 

Things change. They always will. But so long as he is by your side, and so long as you are by his, you know. Everything will be okay. 

It's different, this time, when Taehyung presses you into the mattress. 

There is no rush. Because now you know for certain that all the time in the world is yours. He is yours forever. You are his.

The two of you are a mixture of tangled limbs and shared breaths, the feverish, irrepressible need to give yourself to each other nearly tangible. He breaks the kiss suddenly, and you’re about to break out in protest. That is, until you see him unbuttoning his shirt.

Inspired, you wiggle out of your own clothes, eyes locked on Taehyung's soft torso and the idea that you had married such a beautiful man, inside and out.

Looking back, you wonder if that was always inevitable. If you and Taehyung falling into each other had been written in the stars from day one, sealed as your fate from the moment he came up to you at that ball when you were teenagers. He was going to be a part of your life no matter what. Whether or not you ended up marrying him. But having him like this?

It makes it all worth it.

"Do you like what you see?" That old cocky smirk of his makes an appearance.

You raise a brow, choosing to omit a response as you unclasp your bra, letting it fall from your chest.

Taehyung swallows.

"Do you?" You tease.

His response comes in the form of bites down your necks and licks down your chest, stealing your breath from you. 

Your clothes are somewhere dispelled beside your passionate bodies, growing cold beside the way your two hot bodies warmed one another.

"You are so beautiful," Taehyung praises, fingers coming up to cup your breast, bringing it up to his mouth.

You mewl, wrapping an arm around his shoulders as his tongue toys with your pert bud, teeth grazing it ever so often just to hear the broken gasp that'd always follow. 

"And so sensitive too," he giggles, making you pout. His hands are gentle as if every touch means something. As if you mean something—no, everything—to him. And the most wonderful part is that he means everything to you, too. 

"Shut up." You roll your eyes playfully, gasping as his palm comes down the side of your thigh suddenly in warning. You bite down your swollen bottom lip at the gush of arousal that dampened your underwear in response.

"Watch your tone, love. Of both our positions, you are in the most compromising one." He reminds you. It isn't a threat, and while usually, that kind of tone would thrill you, you couldn't help but want his mouth back on yours already.

"You talk too much." You flop back onto the bed with a sigh. Taehyung watches with interest as your pretty tits bounce in consequence. Extending your hands out towards him, you give him a pouty look. "Just wanna kiss you."

"Is that all I am to you? Just a pair of lips for you to mack on? I've got news for you, sweetheart, there's a brain behind these ravishing good looks." He scoffs in feigned offense, sitting back on his heels.

You giggle.

It seems as though even during the most intimate of moments, Taehyung still found a way to be, well, Taehyung. At least that hasn’t changed. 

"Whatever, pretty boy. Why don't you come over here and put that mouth of yours to good use?" You purr, making his eyebrows raise in surprise.

"Oh? I don't remember you being this assertive when I was pounding you into the mattress last time."

“What, I can’t have a little fun as well?” You tease, grinning as you look up at him, raking your eyes over his figure. 

"Wanna have fun, love?," He murmurs into your ears, hands gripping either of your plush thighs. "Then spread those pretty legs for me, and I'll show you exactly how much fun you can have."

God, you love this man.

You oblige eagerly, breath quickening as he helped you press your knees by your chest, leaving the wet patch in your underwear on full display. 

"My pretty little wife." He sighs dreamily, making heat rush to your core.

Taehyung's cock stood loud and proud, a hot reminder of where the night would eventually lead to. Seriously, how did you get so lucky? You must've been a saint in a previous life, you decide right then. Or at least, the stars have chosen to be rather kind to you in this one.

"Gonna take these off," he mutters, mostly to himself, tugging the ruined fabric over your ass and down your legs, with your help, of course.

Despite your usual display of confidence, lying beneath your husband, spread out like this, has you feeling vulnerable and slightly insecure. But that insecurity vanishes, however, as he lets out a soft moan, fingers moving to spread your glossed lips apart.

"So fucking pretty, baby. Gonna make you feel so fucking good," he groans, leaning down to press his face near your most intimate part.

Pressing a tentatively lick against, his eyes flicker up to yourself, curious to see if you’re okay with him proceeding. And, well, it’s not like you’re going to say no, are you?

Embarrassingly, you rut against him, making him laugh as you drown in your own mortification.

"Need it that bad, huh?" He coos.

"Yes, please."

The rest of your plea is lost in a moan as Taehyung finds your clit, wrapping his pink lips around the sensitive muscle and giving it a generous suck. Your hands are in his hair before you can think to stop yourself, tugging at his scalp deliciously as his mouth makes its way with you.

Thank goodness for this apartment belonging to just the two of you as the noises that tumbled from your lips surely would've left a roommate blushing.

You're panting, begging for more even though you aren't sure how you'd even handle more. It comes as a delight and slight surprise as fingers suddenly slip inside, wasting no time to rub against your velvety smooth walls, curling themselves inside you.

"Fuck, Tae!" you cry out, eyes squeezing shut.

It was pure reflex. Up until now, you had been watching Taehyung intently, completely consumed by the way his mouth moves against you. How his tongue flicks against your needy clit cruelly. It just felt too fucking good.

You're so wet, positively dripping down his chin as he runs his hot muscle up and down the length of your pussy, devouring you like he hadn't eaten in months, and you were his first meal.

Taehyung’s nothing short of addicting, completely and utterly intoxicating, and you slip further and further to your demise with every lick he takes, every press of his tongue against your clit.

He has a hand pressed against the lower half of your torso, feeling the way you jerk and squirm as he makes a mess of you. You’re close and you know it, too, if not by the way you’re calling his name over and over again, then by the way your thighs tremble, hardly even strong enough to stay up.

"Let go for me, love. I've got you." He sounds so sweet, so angelic, despite how filthy what he was doing to you was.

His words are the push you need, and, like a rubber band that has been stretched past its limit, you finally snap, back arching off the bed as you come with a cry. White fills your vision, and your mind goes blank, only sounds of blissful static filling your ears.

His fingers hold up your quivering legs, mouth pressing kisses onto your pussy encouragingly until you simply can't bear it any longer, pushing his mouth away as you stutter out words of sensitivity and overstimulation.

“I’m going to have to request more of that throughout this marriage.” You manage to say once your vision and breath come back to you.

Grabbing one of your hands, Taehyung brings it to his mouth.

“All you need do is ask,” he replies, making you laugh as he presses a kiss to the back of your hand, always a gentleman

Not long after, you find yourself pressed against Taehyung, tongue running against his as he presses his hips into yours. He isn’t coy about his want for you, rolling his cock against your already sensitive center. Warm precum leaks onto your lower abdomen, and suddenly, all you can think about is having him inside you again.

“Taehyung?”

You don’t even need to ask. Hitching your leg around his thigh, he knows exactly what you’re seeking, lining up his leaking cock with your swollen entrance.

Pressing into you, he buries himself to the hilt, groaning out as your warmth envelopes him. You moan out so prettily for him, feeling tight and full with your first orgasm only minutes ago.

“You okay?” he hums, kissing your cheek.

You nod, ears warm at the intimacy of the moment. In many ways, this is nothing like your first time together. You are face to face, eye to eye, heart to heart. Between your bodies could be found more than just desire, but commitment. Devotion. Love. 

“I love you, Tae.” You gush, sighing out as he begins to rock into you.

He falters slightly at your confession but recovers quickly, intertwining his hand with yours and pressing it by your head.

Faintly, you realize. 

That was the first time you had ever told him that.

You look up at him, expecting some wide eyes or even a bit of a nervous tilt to his lips, but all you are met with is a glow. He beams down at you, and your heart swells. 

“I love you, too, Y/N,” he whispers, but you hear the words in your ears loud and clear.

Soft noises fill the room as the two of you become one—hearts synchronizing with one another in silent promise.

It was a promise unlike the one you had made to each other that day at the altar, for this one was real. This one was true.

You shutter with every thrust of his hips, your abused clit finding itself in the crossfire of Taehyung’s passionate motions.

Whimpering, you cling to him, overwhelmed and emotional, like your heart was about to burst. Taehyung lights a fire in you, sends lightning straight through your core. Every word, every smile, every kiss, every touch, they send shivers down your spine, tingles throughout your skin. It’s like you’re falling in love with him all over whenever you see him, whenever his deep brown eyes meet your own.

You remember being so afraid of love that you broke up with all your old boyfriends because of it. Because you couldn’t commit, because you were worried about your career, because they just didn’t give you that spark. But lying here pressed against him, against your husband, you aren’t afraid. Wrapped up around him, tangled up in him, you know. 

Between messy kisses and words of adoration, you find yourself growing closer and closer to your release. Brows furrowed and neck flushed, you come with a soft whimper of his name, coaxing his own orgasm out of him. He lets go inside you, painting you with his seed in a way that pleases you to no end.

Hand still in yours, he gives it a squeeze, pressing a kiss onto your damp chest, right over where your heart beats for him.

“I love you,” Taehyung says again when you meet his eyes, firmer this time, louder. Like he’s worried you didn’t believe him the first time. 

“I know,” you say with a giggle, the words going straight to your head—and your heart. 

Taehyung scowls. “What, no ‘I love you’ back? Is that what I’m hearing?”

“Well, only because you want one so badly,” you tease, pressing a quick kiss to his round button nose. “I love you, too, Tae. Always will.”

“I think I knew, then,” Taehyung says with a fond sigh, nostalgia overcoming his expression. “That first time we met. I knew you would be mine, one day.”

“You got lucky,” you scoff slightly. “But I’m glad things happened the way they did.”

“You’re my dream come true, Y/N,” he says. 

“And you are mine,” you murmur.

As the two of you drift off, all twisted up in each other, so mixed up you can’t figure out where you end and he begins, you think back to that night. That ball. 

“Who are you?” You ask, nose scrunched up in distaste. Before you stood a boy you had never met before, wearing shoes that were too big for him and a suit that was a touch too small. 

He grins at you, running a hand through his perfectly-styled hair fringe swiped neatly over his forehead, and he says, “your dream come true.”

And so it was. 

don’t forget to message me! ~ and don’t forget to message rose!

[kateis-cakeis]

Alivebur Has A Crush Analysis

Alivebur is a character who has been through the highs and lows of life. We have seen him lead, we have seen him fall, and we have seen him come back and try his best. What we have not previously seen, however, is Alivebur in love. In the last few streams from his POV, his interactions with Quackity have stepped into the realm of possibility that to Alivebur, this is more than a simple rivalry. Therefore, this analysis will explore Alivebur's possible crush on Quackity by going through the streams to show development, and looking in depth at expressions.

The Book

When Alivebur takes the Project Nevadas book from the chest, he regards it and Quackity's name softly, sounding emotional, almost like he's on the verge of tears - especially as he says 'my kinsman':

“Quackity… My, my old rival! My… my kinsman. We’ve been through a lot, we went through a lot together. And I- And I-” - (Wilbur’s resurrected gentleman of L'manburg: 1:02:11, 5th May)

It's a very emotional line, and truly the first time during the 5th May stream that Alivebur seems genuinely comfortable, suggesting that this is the first time he realises that Quackity is the only one (from his perspective) who isn't afraid of who he was before he died.

Furthermore, it suggests this is where he first gets the hope that Quackity sees him as human.

He even reads the book with a gentle tone, suggesting that he thinks Quackity wrote it with a softness.

In the 31st May stream, Alivebur still has the book on him, and keeps the contents to himself, at first, stopping midsentence as he begins to read it to Tommy.

“Let me read you the book, let me read you the book. ‘My dearest friend, Wilbur’. Uh. And then there’s just some other stuff.” – (Wilbur’s A Deck of Cards with a Green Smile on them: 14:53, 31st May)

Due to him having no idea he was going to be up against Quackity yet, it is likely he kept it to himself because it was too personal to share - only later showing it to Tommy as a plea to why he shouldn't join Quackity.

In between reading the first part and uttering 'uh', Alivebur opens his mouth to say more, but no words come out. As if he couldn't physically read it.

Then he goes on to 'read' Tommy the book, except he makes up the contents. What is interesting here, is how he seems to slip:

“It says: ‘My dearest friend, Wilbur. I’ve really missed seeing you. Come to Project Nevadas. Your best friend, Quackity.’ He’s not my best friend, Tommy, don’t worry, that would be you.” – (Wilbur’s A Deck of Cards with a Green Smile on them: 16:28, 31st May)

Tommy has pushed him for what's inside the book, so Alivebur 'gives in' and starts to read it, coming up with what he's saying on the fly. The slip? 'Your best friend', we know in the 25th July stream that one of Alivebur's goals seems to be Quackity being his friend, making this line all the more obvious that this is something Alivebur wants, to be Quackity's friend, and to be on his side.

When he gets rejected from Las Nevadas, he opens up the book like he's trying to make sense of it:

Because Alivebur took it as a call, took it as an invitation to join Quackity and be on his side - something that Alivebur seems to want. Perhaps because it would be a place to belong, a side to stand with, someone to stand alongside who isn't afraid of him.

Hence why he was petty and challenged Quackity, because he was rejected by the only person who Alivebur thinks regards him as a human.

Alivebur keeps the book on him in the following stream, Healthy Competition. Where, in the middle of talking to Phil, while looking in his inventory, he gets distracted by the book, losing track of what he was saying as he looks at it:

This suggests that Alivebur is keeping the book on him because it's precious, and because he's yearning. It isn't something he's keeping safe in an Ender chest like he used to do with history books, but rather something he's keeping on him, almost like he's keeping it close to his heart.

It's personal, enough to distract him in the middle of a conversation in a way we haven't seen from Alivebur before.

When he's making plans, he doesn't get distracted easily, usually sticking to the point, but here, he trails off in the middle of a sentence, pulls the book into his hand, struggles to open it, and looks for just a second before putting it away.

It's definitely not something that Alivebur would do at all, and is certainly new. Which, in turn, heavily suggests a crush because it is something we've never seen before.

Later in the stream, as Alivebur tosses the named steaks over to Ranboo, Alivebur pulls the book into his hand again. His expression drops almost, he stops in a sense, eyes dipping down. There's a sadness this time:

Like a sad longing. Perhaps the book is a reminder too, of what he truly wants, to be alongside Quackity, to be his dearest friend like it says.

While Alivebur doesn't look at the book in the 3rd and 4th Aug streams, he does still have it on him, showing that he does indeed keep it on him at all times. Evidently, the book is very important to him.

Therefore, due to all this, it can be heavily suggested from the book alone that Alivebur has a crush. Keeping it on him at all times, regarding it softly, being unable to share the contents at first, looking at it with a longing or a sad yeaning, all show that the book is precious to him in a way that proves feelings.

The Crush Question

More under the cut

When Alivebur talks about how Quackity challenged him, calling the look in his eyes cool - before then admitting that he almost called it hot, Tommy proceeds to ask if Alivebur has a crush, to which Alivebur says:

“I have a complicated relationship with Big Q, but I don’t think it’s at that level yet.” – (Wilbur’s A Deck of Cards with a Green Smile on them: 44:55, 31st May)

There is a lot to this line, for example, 'complicated relationship' suggests, within this context, that he's referring to their very colourful past, where they were political rivals, allies, perhaps friends, and also almost lovers.

Considering that Alivebur says he doesn't think it's at the level of a crush yet does indeed suggest that he is aware of his attraction and/or feelings for Quackity.

We know from Niki's birthday party that Alivebur had feelings for Quackity then:

“Sometimes, uh, you know, my, my, my feelings towards some people... in this room get the better of me.” - (Karl's Dream SMP with Niki: 1:46:37, 2nd Nov)

During that pause, that ellipsis, Alivebur looks straight at Quackity before continuing. It is clear that at this point he did have feelings, hence why he kissed Quackity, and why later in that stream he sang songs of love and hate to him. Complicated relationship indeed.

So, 'complicated relationship' possibly does refer to all their past, to everything they've been, or almost been. That paired with him thinking his feelings aren't at the level of a crush yet - at this point - does heavily suggest that this is something that is progressing.

Either he will later realise his feelings have gotten to the level of a crush, or that it's been a crush for a while, but the important part here, is the use of 'yet', he's expecting it.

In turn, Alivebur's answer to Tommy's question does suggest the existence of feelings already, as well as Alivebur acknowledging it can become a crush.

Crush Behaviour

In recent streams it has become increasingly evident that Alivebur is behaving like he has a crush already. Even in the first stream where this becomes evident - the 31st May one - he displays signs of a crush.

To begin, one of the most evident signs of a crush from the 31st May stream are the longing sighs:

It's the way he sighs with his whole chest. The way he's trying to speak but sighs instead, as if that's all he can say, as if it conveys everything he feels.

The lines the sighs coincide with are interesting to note too:

“He’s, he’s um, he’s, I guess my, my yang. He’s the yang.” – (Wilbur’s A Deck of Cards with a Green Smile on them: 47:56, 31st May)

The first sigh takes place between 'he's um' and 'he's', and only then gets out what he wants to say, that Quackity's his yang. Which, from that, it can be suggested that the sigh comes from thinking about Quackity as his light, his other half, as something he can't exist without, something like a soulmate. Because that's what 'his yang' suggests on its own, but paired with the sigh, it shows how he's thinking about it, and from the tone, he's also longing for it.

And then there's the line for the second sigh:

“Because when you’ve got people like Quackity over there, who are just- You know, he said it best, I’m not gonna talk shit about him behind his back.” – (Wilbur’s A Deck of Cards with a Green Smile on them: 1:10:00, 31st May)

Here the sigh takes place when Alivebur cuts himself off after the 'just'. It's more of a breathed sigh, and it has a 'aw' sound to it. There is a feeling of more attraction here than longing. He's thinking about Quackity again and then sighs like this, almost in a happy way. It's almost got an amazed feel to it, as if that's how he feels when thinking of Quackity here.

Then he goes on to say he's not gonna talk shit about him behind his back, which also indicates a crush type behaviour, because while he's setting himself up to be Quackity's rival, he stops himself from doing what most would when they're against someone.

The sighs aren't the only part of the 31st May stream that have a crush behaviour feeling to them. This is also clear when Tommy asks if Alivebur and Quackity were kissing.

He nervously laughs after Tommy asks, and stares at Quackity, with his hand over his mouth. The nervous laugh suggests that Alivebur does feel something towards this question, something positive but guarded, hence his hand over his mouth, and why he stares at Quackity.

And then he deflects. He doesn't answer Tommy's question, he just changes the subject. It's clear from this that he's hiding his true feelings here.

“No, I don’t think I wanna kiss him. It’s um…” – (Wilbur’s A Deck of Cards with a Green Smile on them: 50:29, 31st May)

This is backed up by him saying he doesn't think he wants to kiss Quackity. He clearly has some complicated feelings about it, hence the use of 'think' instead of just leaving it as no.

Evidentially, there is some guarded part of Alivebur that isn't sure what to feel about kissing Quackity, but judging by the use of 'think', and nervously laughing while staring at Quackity after being asked if they were kissing, it seems like he's thought about it.

The next blatant crush behaviour happens in the 25th July stream as Alivebur is talking about how he met up with Quackity:

The body language here, the way he seems to fiddle with his arms, it's a very nervous thing to do, and since he's talking to Phil here, it suggests he's nervously talking about his crush to his dad.

The full line shows this even more:

“Yeah! I met up with him, and I hadn’t seen him in ages. It was, I’m gonna say it, it was nice. It was a nice time. I- I- It felt good, it felt, uh, you know, he didn’t, he didn’t seem afraid of me, which is cool.” - (Wilbur’s Healthy Competition: 7:38, 25th July)

He begins with that he hadn't seen him in ages, which is especially interesting because this is true of everyone, it's been 13 years for Alivebur, but the way he says it here makes it sound so casual, like it had just been a little while. Perhaps it suggests how human and alive he feels around Quackity.

He goes on to say it was nice, that it felt good, and how it's cool Quackity didn't seem afraid of him. Which suggests even more so of just how human and alive Quackity makes him feel, that he simply had a nice time. Especially with him saying it felt good, which shows how this isn't just an intense rivalry for Alivebur, it's something that makes him feel more positive emotions.

The most damning evidence for Alivebur's crush behaviour, however, comes from when he's waiting for Quackity on the 4th Aug stream.

“Wait here, look, I promise you, just you wait. Just you wait. Ready? Ready? Are you ready? Are- Are you- Are you ready? Um… Uh…” - (Wilbur’s Unhealthy Competition: 11:06, 4th Aug)

He expects Quackity to be there as soon as he is, but when he's not there, Alivebur begins to get nervous, um-ing and uh-ing. After two minutes of waiting around, Alivebur then proceeds to proclaim that he thinks he understands Quackity, and how his brain works, only for him to prove he doesn't give a shit:

“This guy. Ranboo, I swear to god, like I, I feel like I understand him, I feel like I know how his brain works, you know, how his- how the- how the cogs in his mind go. And then he just, and then he just goes and proves that he doesn’t give a shit.” - (Wilbur’s Unhealthy Competition: 12:56, 4th Aug)

The reason this is evident crush behaviour is because Alivebur starts getting self-conscious about how Quackity feels about him after waiting two minutes. He assumes that as soon as he arrives on the border, Quackity will be there instantly.

It's very reminiscent of real life, where some people may get self-conscious if their crush doesn't text them back immediately. Except with Alivebur, instead of a text, he turns up on Las Nevadas's doorstep and expects Quackity to drop anything he's doing to tell him to fuck off.

However, the most blatant part of this piece of evidence is when Quackity asks if they've been waiting long, to which Alivebur replies with:

“Uh, I’ve just arrived, you know, I just arri- I, I haven’t been long for you. I, I wouldn’t- Quackity, you think, you think I’d wait for you?” - (Wilbur’s Unhealthy Competition: 14:35, 4th Aug)

He pretends he's just arrived, trying to act suave, that he wouldn't wait for Quackity, just like how Quackity didn't instantly greet him the minute he turned up. He's brushing it off here, but even he himself knows that he isn't acting as smooth as he would like:

He glances away as he drinks from the bottle, then closes his eyes, scrunching up his face. It's an embarrassed 'oh god did I really just say that?' type expression. It's the type of expression you would expect to see from someone who feels like they've just embarrassed themself in front of their crush.

That's what is evident here when everything from this scene is put together, that Alivebur is acting like he has a crush.

Finally, the last bit of evidence we have right now that indicates Alivebur is expressing crush behaviour is when he says he feels alive after interacting with Quackity:

“I feel alive, Ranboo, I feel alive. Someone’s looking at me and talking to me! I’m alive, I’m alive! This is great.” - (Wilbur’s Unhealthy Competition: 27:22, 4th Aug)

You may notice here that the 'someone's looking at me' is similar to what cc!Wilbur said from Alivebur's perspective in the recent reddit comment about him (here), that 'no-one even looked at him' before he died. Alivebur is excited, even seeming to be happy, that someone is actually paying attention to him, looking at him, even if it's in a rivalry sense.

And it's only Quackity that makes him feel this way, despite Ranboo being there, talking to him. It suggests that what Alivebur is feeling with Quackity is unique, and makes him feel more than the friendship he has with Ranboo.

Most of all, the excited and stressed 'I feel alive' and 'I'm alive!' not only suggests that just talking to Quackity makes him feel alive, but that it could be making his heart beat faster every time he sees him and interacts with him.

This is implied through the line because to feel alive in this excited sense induces a reaction, and that probable reaction of feeling alive - being excited, suggests his heart is beating faster. This links back to Alivebur having a crush because when a person is around someone they have feelings for, their heart beats faster.

Lastly, in the latter half of the quote, when he says 'I'm alive!', he looks towards Las Nevadas, and sighs in what sounds like a happy tone. This shows that it is indeed Quackity that is making him feel this way.

All in all, everything from the sighs to the way Quackity makes him feel alive, does indeed suggest that Alivebur is displaying crush behaviour towards Quackity, and therefore, indicates that he has a crush.

Homoerotic Tension

Another factor that ties into the evidence that Alivebur has a crush, is the homoerotic tension he has towards and with Quackity.

The most obvious occurrence of this is when Alivebur bites his lip at the idea that Quackity won't like the burger van:

“So he didn’t like it? He didn’t like you setting up the cookie stand? … Okay. Okay. No, no, no, that’s good.” - (Wilbur’s Healthy Competition: 21:33, 25th July)

As soon as Ranboo says Quackity didn't like it, Alivebur smiles, licks his lips, and then bites his lip.

In this context, there's no anxiousness here, so the only reason he could be biting his lip is because of his attraction to Quackity. A lip bite in this sense means that Alivebur is restraining himself, as well as experiencing desire.

It's a very clear attraction to Quackity, which further shows that he is attracted to him in all senses. This is also a foundation for where his feelings are coming from, and because we know Alivebur's type (he likes a challenge and thought the look in Quackity's eyes was hot when he challenged him), it becomes evident that the lip bite is a reaction to the idea of Quackity being angry at him.

And in the 4th Aug stream, this is explicitly said:

“When you smashed the window and blew up the wall? I’d be pissed, and I bet he is, dude.” - (Wilbur’s Unhealthy Competition: 7:20, 4th Aug)

--

“Ohh boy! Ha ha ha ha, ha! Oh, this is good, this is- this is exactly what I want. Did you see how- Dude, dude, Ranboo, he was trying act like I didn’t get to him.” - (Wilbur’s Unhealthy Competition: 26:47, 4th Aug)

Therefore, due to Alivebur expecting Quackity to be pissed, and him saying it's exactly what he wants after interacting with him, it's clear that him smiling and biting his lip after hearing that Quackity didn't like the cookie stand, comes from wanting Quackity to be angry with him, and so, links into his type, proving his attraction to him.

This links back to his possible crush because a lip bite like this definitely isn't an expression someone would make about a friend or just a rival. Which means it's explicitly attraction to Quackity, and further suggests that him having a crush on him is very possible.

Another notable moment that shows tension in this sense is when Alivebur says Quackity is a hard man to refuse.

“But I get it, I get it, you know, Quackity… He’s a, he’s a hard man to refuse.” - (Wilbur’s Unhealthy Competition: 24:09, 4th Aug)

The reason this suggests homoerotic tension and attraction is because of what 'he's a hard man to refuse' suggests. It's as if Alivebur is saying to Quackity that he can't say no to him, which shows how he is drawn to him. It also suggests that if Quackity were to ask something of Alivebur, he would do it, as he can't refuse him easily/can't say no.

The most interesting part about this is how Alivebur has never been manipulated or persuaded by Quackity, and therefore, in Alivebur's case, this sentiment is coming from their history, and possibly refers to the rivalry they have always had. Alivebur didn't refuse Quackity from running against him during the election era, and he eagerly gunned for a rivalry once he was rejected from Las Nevadas.

All of this indicates that Alivebur saying Quackity is a hard man to refuse has romantic connotations to it and suggests attraction to him.

Overall, the homoerotic tension, and Alivebur's attraction shows how it's very likely a crush has built off this foundation, and suggests why Alivebur is so drawn to Quackity.

Conclusion

In conclusion, Alivebur has a crush due to the way he talks about and interacts with Quackity. It is clear in the way he holds the book close and regards it softly and with a longing, and how he doesn't think his feelings are at the level of a crush yet, as if he fully expects it to happen. Additionally, his yearning sighs, the way he nervously laughs as Tommy asks if they kissed, his body language when he talks to Phil about him, and how he attempts to act smooth in front of Quackity only to be embarrassed by what he said, all suggest he's behaving like he has a crush. Furthermore, biting his lip when thinking of Quackity and saying he's a hard man to refuse show his attraction, and therefore, his likely crush. Overall, Alivebur has a crush due to all these factors.

[explosivenebula]

Could I please have Iida,Kirashima and maybe Bakugo with a reader who has a deep Japanese accent? I always see American or European readers with accents but never a Reader with a deep Japanese accent?

I actually haven’t seen that either, honestly. I think this is a pretty cool request though, Hope you enjoy!

MASTERLIST

‘Deep Japanese Accent’ Bakugou, Kirishima and Iida x Gn!reader HEADCANONS {REQUEST}

PAIRINGS: Bakugou x reader, Kirishima x reader, Iida x reader

WARNINGS: none

GENRE: fluff, slight comfort

POST TYPE: headcanons 

*̩̩̥͙　-•̩̩͙-ˏˋ⋆ 　　⋆ˊˎ-•̩̩͙-　*̩̩̥͙

If you’d like to request a similar headcanon or something entirely different with the same or different MHA/BNHA characters, feel free do to so! Note: Most of my work will be a gender-neutral reader/perspective unless you specifically request something different. You may also request a headcanon for any size, ethnicity, religion etc of person, everything here is welcome! (As long as it is not offensive, and follows the guidelines.)

🌸Explosive Nebula 爆発性星雲🌸

- 08.11.2021 -

BAKUGOU KATSUKI

◬  Bakugou doesn’t have too much trouble understand accents, no matter how string or thick they are. He hasn’t met too many people like that, either, so he hasn’t usually had to worry about such a thing, but it tends to be a gift he’s able to work with. It’s useful for a pro hero, but when he meets you, things are alit different. He’s so confused, squinting his eyes in annoyance and locking his jaw at the embarrassment of having to ask you to repeat what you said. So he’ll either do on of two things, completely ignore you, while throwing insults so you know he want’s you to stay away. Or, he’ll reluctantly ask you tor repeat, not without being completely rude and condescending. Although, he hates to admit he finds it extremely attractive, and can’t help how addicted he is to your voice. When you find yourself in a relationship with him, however, he’s a little more understanding, but still annoyed. (And it’s extremely fun to tease him because of it)

◬ He doesn't find any way to completely deal with it, since he get’s used to it pretty quickly. In the rare occasion you say something he genuinely doesn’t understand or can’t piece together, you may find him nodding along anyway, his eyes washing over your figure to pick up any body language cues that he can take as your words. If he can’t, or you catch him, he’ll simply roll his eyes and ask you to “slow the hell down, idiot”. But you’ll never find him saying he can’t understand you, since he’s always blaming it on you mumbling or deliberately putting it on so thick to make fun of him. 

KIRISHIMA EIJIROU

◬ Kirishima, unlike Bakugou, has been completely ignorant to any accents his whole life. That’s not to say he deliberatley ignores them, he just simply hasn’t come across anyone with an accent, let alone a thick Japanese accent. So when he does meet you for the first time, he’s not just completely bewildered and utterly confused, he’s absolutely shocked, in awe at your rich and beautiful words. He’s completely attracted to you at the first words you spoke to him, even if he had no idea what you were saying. It does take him a while to try and understand what you’re saying, but he does his best. When you finally find yourself in a relationship with the perky redhead, he does his best to be considerate of your words, and does everything he can to learn and understand you.

◬ He isn’t completely oblivious, and finds himself beginning to understand you a lot easier than his other friends considering the amount of time you end up spending with him. But he’s still a little confused at times, so he’s often getting himself into long conversations with you. They feel a little one sided, but he loves hearing your voice, and the more you talk the more he finds himself getting used to your accent. So he’ll always beg you to tell him a story, whatever or whenever it is, it doesn’t matter. If you can read to him, he’ll fall asleep instantly. You’re always his study partner, the way you say the questions seems to make him understand them a little better. He remembers answers and does better on tests considering you make it so much easier to think of his answers. 

IIDA TENYA

◬ Iida loves having control over what most people do, provided he keeps out of their personal life of course. Being able to have people who follow his instructions and understand what he’s asking of them is something he loves about a class or group of people. When there’s a language barrier it’s obviously a little difficult, and he can get a little frustrated. When he meets you, he has to do a small double take and ask for your name one more time. At first he could have sworn you were speaking a different language, but he’s amazed to find it’s simply an extremely thick Japanese accent. It confuses him a lot, but he’s respectful and prideful, so he doesn’t say anything accidently out of line. He’ll politely as you to repeat, or straight up say he can’t understand you. 

◬ Unsurprisingly, it takes him no longer than a few weeks to become accustomed to your way of speaking, something he’s extremely proud of and sometimes tends to boast about to his friends. And the fact that you two are dating makes things a little more perfect for him. He falls in love with your voice, finding it rhythmic and soothing. When he’s had a stressful or busy day, he can often ask you to read or sing to him, no matter how childish others ma find it (as if they’d find out from him, anyway). And, sometimes, there are occasions when he absolutely cannot understand you and struggles to pick up any word of what your saying. This is usually when your talking about something he has no idea about and his brain get’s muffled, or he’s just awfully tired or stressed about something, and finds it hard to listen to you as easy as he usually does. But he’s always falling asleep to your voice, and finds it one of the best things about you.

If you’d like to request a similar headcanon or something entirely different with the same or different MHA/BNHA characters, feel free do to so! Note: Most of my work will be a gender-neutral reader/perspective unless you specifically request something different. You may also request a headcanon for any size, ethnicity, religion etc of person, everything here is welcome! (As long as it is not offensive, and follows the guidelines.)

🌸Explosive Nebula 爆発性星雲🌸

- 08.11.2021 -

[amazingphanisnotonfire-imagines]

Maeve//i don't belong, and my beloved, neither do you

Request: Could you please do something else with Maeve? Perhaps something where reader works with Maeve on an English project and she's surprised that they have so much in common. She realizes she has feelings for her somehow after that? Sorry that's sort of rubbish, have a swell day/night.

hey! what’s up everybody! i hope everyone is well, and i hope you like this!! title is from ‘the lakes’ by taylor swift! 

- English projects are never fun 

- I mean, who finds constant stress and a deadline that’s always far too close fun?

- Nobody

- That’s who

- Well apart from Mrs Jones

- Your year 9 English teacher who made every minute of her classes a living hell

- And who mysteriously went missing half way through the year after having a screaming match with a fellow English teacher

- When she was supposed to be teaching you Romeo & Juliet. 

- One day she was accusing Miss Newman of being a terrible teacher and purposefully bumping up students grades so she looked better 

- And the next day both her and Miss Newman were gone 

- And you only got a replacement teacher when you moved into year 10

- Right now though 

- Its seems Miss Sands is going through some stuff 

- Because not only did she give you an assignment on Friday with a deadline of Monday 

- She also chose your partners instead of letting you choose your own

- Which is why you’re stood outside of Maeve’s in the pouring rain

- On a frankly miserable Saturday morning 

- It seems the weather knew exactly what sort of weekend you were facing 

- And decided to make it even worse. 

- By the third knock 

- You’re about to give up 

- The curtains are still drawn 

- And you’ve seen more movement in a graveyard 

- Plus

- You kind of already assumed you would be doing the project alone 

- Maeve Wiley was known for being very...

- ...independant 

- And group projects are no different 

- You actually think she may be more independent during group projects

- So as soon as Miss Sands paired you together 

- You knew 

- You were 99% sure that 

- You’d do your thing

- She’d do hers 

- And then five minutes before the presentation 

- You would figure out a way to connect the two.

- Anywayyyy

- While daydreaming about a time when you won’t have any assignments 

- And making awkward, accidental eye contact with Maeve’s neighbours 

- The door in front of you opens 

- Simultaneously giving you a fright and almost knocking you out

- She yawns and scratches the top of her head 

- ‘what are you doing here?’ 

- She sounds both tired and annoyed and you blink at her a few times before answering 

- ‘er - i - the project. for english.’ 

- It takes her a few seconds to process what you’ve said 

- But when she does 

- She looks even more miserable than she did five seconds ago

- And you brace yourself for a long weekend 

- She sighs and rolls her eyes 

- Before slowly opening the door properly and letting you in

- You feel slightly nervous as you walk in 

- But you really have no idea why

- It’s not like she’s a complete stranger 

- But then again 

- She’s not exactly a friend 

- ‘don’t worry, i’ve hidden the drugs. i don’t really like to share anyway.’ 

- ‘what?’ you ask confused and she rolls her eyes again 

- She huffs and crosses her arms before nodding to the slightly messy living room

- ‘i get it. we’re a bunch of benefit fraud chavs that do nothing but drink and smoke all day.’ 

- ‘that’s not what i was thinkin-’ 

- ‘sure it wasn’t.’ she rolls her eyes and you stare down at the floor. ‘i need to get changed so make yourself at home I suppose.’ 

- She walks into what you assume is her bedroom and slams the door behind her 

- Leaving you to stand awkwardly in the middle of the living room

- It’s small and slightly cramped 

- And most people would say that all the stuff makes it look busy 

- But to you 

- It’s wonderful 

- It’s filled with stories and memories 

- Some self explanatory 

- Some slightly more bizarre 

- Like the wonky blue and yellow clay swan living on the coffee table 

- You really want to know the story behind it 

- But decide it might be a little early in your partnership to start asking about her attachment to a half swan, half moth looking ornament

- So instead you pick up a pile of books on the dining table and move them onto the floor 

- You can hear Maeve opening and closing drawers while humming a familiar tune 

- And you feel yourself relax slightly as you place your laptop and books where the books were previously sat 

- Even if it does feel like you’re using all of your braincells to try and figure out where you’ve heard it before 

- ‘wow, do you actually trust me around that?’ 

- ‘what?’ you stop humming and look up at her 

- She looks between you and the laptop, staring at you expectantly 

- ‘oh no. i mean of course i do.’ you blush and she shakes her head before sitting opposite you 

- ‘so what do we know about women in fiction?’ 

- ‘historically they are written as either a femme fatalle type or some sort of innocent angelic being.’ 

- ‘they still are’ 

- ‘true’ you agree and flick through your textbook

- ‘why don’t we write about that then?’ 

- ‘what? how we’re still depressingly far back in the equality movement, despite being told otherwise?’ 

- She stares at you for a few seconds 

- A mixture of shock and surprise 

- Before nodding 

- And smiling 

- An actual genuine smile 

- You didn’t even know she could do that 

- Well you did 

- Of course you did 

- But you just haven’t seen it a lot 

- Usually when you see Maeve 

- She’s either mad, grumpy or very, very, very angry

- But her smiling 

- Puts a smile on your face 

- And this was definitely not where you thought this was going 

- ‘yeah...that’ 

- ‘okay.’ you shrug. ‘you can do classic literature because i know you prefer them and i’ll cover modern works.’

- ‘how do you know i prefer classics?’ 

- ‘the pile of books’ you nod towards the floor and she follows your gaze, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. ‘they’re all ripped and folded. you either love them or really, really hate them’ 

- ‘okay’ she eyes you suspiciously as you focus on your laptop 

- And you can feel your cheeks heat up under her gaze 

- However as quickly as they were there 

- They disappear 

- And the two of you fall into a surprisingly comfortable silence. 

- After about half an hour 

- Maeve stops what she’s doing to stretch 

- ‘is it okay if i play some music?’ 

- ‘sure, it’s your place. do what you want...as long as its not awful’ 

- ‘and what constitutes as awful?’ she asks, a smirk playing on her lips

- ‘well’ 

- And with that one question 

- Your entire day disappears in front of you 

- Laptops and books are closed and long forgotten 

- And instead you talk about music and movies 

- Books and plays 

- Characters that you love and hate 

- And the fact that her favourite character is the one you hate the most 

- She makes you lunch while you debate between movies and books and which adaptations are good

- And which ones should never have been made

- And you clean up and apologise profusely after a stray cushion (possibly thrown by you) ends up knocking the pan over 

- Surprisingly 

- She finds it quite funny 

- And you let out a relieved sigh

- Soon the sun goes down on another day 

- And you’ve barely written two paragraphs done between you

- ‘do you want to stay?’ she asks while your putting your jacket on

- If she’d asked you that this morning 

- You would have thought she had lost it 

- But now it feels almost inevitable 

- And you feel genuinely lucky to be asked 

- Not many people get to know Maeve 

- The real her 

- And that last person she told all of this to broke her heart 

- Very publicly 

- And she told herself she would never let herself be that vulnerable with someone ever again

- But this just feels right 

- For some reason you feel right 

- She feels safe with you 

- And part of her hates herself for it 

- But then again 

- She hates herself for not getting to know you sooner

- She feels far too attached to you 

- And it’s barely been twelve hours 

- You of course agree to stay 

- Shocking yourself and her 

- And while she sorts to sofa out 

- You excuse yourself to the bathroom 

- Under the pretences of telling your parents where you are 

- It takes two seconds to text them 

- And the other 28 to ask yourself 

- What the fuck are you doing? 

- Why are you agreeing to this? 

- Why do you feel like this? 

- What are you feeling?

- Who knows?

- Not you 

- Great 

- Now you’ve been in the bathroom for a suspicious amount of time 

- Just get it together, Y/n

- It’s just a study sleepover 

- Maeve gives you a questioning look as you leave 

- ‘you know how mums are. always worrying about where you are and what you’re doing’ 

- ‘i wouldn’t actually’ she shrugs and your eyes widen 

- ‘oh shit, sorry. i’m so sorry. god, i’m an idiot.’

- ‘it’s fine’ she forces a laugh and you wince. ‘i got you an extra duvet and little women is ready to watch so i can show you that the book is better’ 

- ‘that’s not what i said and you know it’ 

- ‘i’m sorry. i can’t hear you over the sound of me being 100% right and you being 100% wrong.’ 

- ‘you may be good at english, but you suck at maths’ 

- The next day you wake up to the sun shining through the curtains 

- And a clump of Maeve’s hair in your mouth 

- You splutter and cough and wake her up quickly 

- And she jumps away from you and smacks her head of the table 

- The two of you ended up moving the blankets to the floor while watching Pride and Prejudice 

- And neither of you bothered to move back 

- Maeve yawns and scratches her head

- Exposing a small part of her stomach and you feel yourself become a little breathless 

- ‘are you okay?’ 

- ‘ye-yeah’ you nod and she eyes you suspiciously 

- ‘whatever’ she shrugs and starts making breakfast 

- You watch as she pours to bowls of cereal

- Giving you the last of the milk 

- And for a second you’re a little worried as to how she knew you liked it 

- But then you remember that she also likes it and you had a whole discussion about the best and worst types of cereal at 2am 

- And half way through breakfast 

- You remember the original reason you’re here 

- And both of you curse loudly 

- Before rushing to finish eating 

-You get half way through your project 

- When Maeve asks if you want to go out for a bit 

- And well 

- She doesn’t need to ask you twice 

- And by the time you come back 

- The feeling you had last night returns 

- And has settled in your stomach 

- For the foreseeable future it seems 

- It makes you feel both light and heavy at the same time 

- And when you look at her 

- You feel dizzy 

- So you rush to finish the project 

- So you can go home and pretend nothing has changed 

- And yeah 

- With the need to leave 

- You get the rest of the assignment done fairly quickly 

- But you end up leaving feeling more confused about Maeve as you did when you started this 

- Maybe Miss Sands was right about a weekend project 

- Any longer and you would have gone insane trying to figure out whatever the hell this is 

- You just have to get through tomorrow and then you’ll be okay 

- Everything will go back to normal 

- You and Maeve can go back to being neutral to each other

- And you won’t have to deal with all of these confusing feelings that have decided to make an appearance for some reason 

- Wellll

- Turns out Miss Sands was wrong 

- A weekend is not enough time 

- And the first few presentations are awful 

- To put it nicely 

- So you spend the next week in a permanent confused state 

- Confused as to why you start looking for Maeve whenever you enter a room

- Confused as to why your heart skips a beat whenever you hear her laugh 

- Confused as to why you never want her stop talking in class 

- Even if the bell has rung and it’s lunch 

- Confused to why you keep looking for excuses to go over to see her 

- Despite your assignment being long done 

- And even more confused as to why you feel anxious when you’re waiting for her to answer the door

- The next Monday rolls around both painfully slowly and far too quickly 

- And while you wait for Ola and Danny to finish their presentation 

- Your hands shake with anxiety while your grip your papers 

- Maeve reaches over the table and gives them a reassuring squeeze 

- But it just makes them shake more and she slowly pulls back 

- Your turn can’t come quick enough 

- But then it’s over far too quickly 

- And you slump back down in your seat disappointed 

- Despite Miss Sands’ praise 

- Because it’s over 

- You no longer have an excuse to hang out with her 

- You never talked before 

- So why do you care about after 

- But there’s so much about her that you want to know

- Like the weird swan/moth hybrid 

- And the ugly plate that sits on top of the bookshelf 

- You want to be part of these stories 

- You want to be able to point to these things and say

- ‘yeah, i know exactly why that is special to you’ 

- You want to be the reason to add to this random collection of stuff 

- You want her to smile when she looks at them because they’ll remind her of you 

- You want her to smile when she looks at you 

- ‘y/n? are you okay?’ she asks making you jump 

- The classroom is now empty and you didn’t even notice the bell go 

- ‘ye-yeah’ you nod and grab your bag

- ‘are you sure?’ she grabs your arm forcing you turn around 

- ‘whats the weird swan thing on your coffee table?’ you ask and she furrows her eyebrows at you. ‘it’s just i saw it when i first came over and i really want to know the story behind it’ 

- ‘oh. aimee went through a pottery phase last year and that was the only thing she made that didn’t have a hole in it.’

- ‘and the plate?’ 

- ‘birthday present from my neighbours’ 

- ‘they got you a plate?’ 

- ‘yeah, they don’t have any kids’ 

- ‘clearly’ 

- Silence fills the room and you stare at the peeling posters behind her head 

- You can feel Maeve move closer to you and your breath hitches when she stops a few centimetres in front of you 

- She grabs your hand and squeezes it again 

- And your heartbeat increases 

- ‘y/n?’ 

- ‘yeah?’ 

- ‘i’m really, really confused right now. like more confused that i have ever been in my life. but what i do know, is that if i watch you walk out of that door without saying anything first, then i’d regret it for the rest of my life. i’ve only ever felt like this about boys before, but now i feel this and more about you and i have no idea where it’s come from or what i need to do, but i do know i need to tell you. because otherwise, it wouldn’t be fair for either of us’ she whispers and you stare at her wide eyed 

- ‘can i kiss you?’ she asks and you nod your head quickly 

- Slowly she leans in

- Her eye flutter closed and you follow 

- Your lips brush over hers 

- Her hands wrap around you waist to pull you close

- And then your lips connect 

- And you feel everything change 

- She kisses you slowly 

- And when you pull away you both feel breathless 

- Her cheeks are bright red 

- And there’s a shy smile playing on her lips as she looks at you bashfully

- And all of a sudden you feel really grateful for Miss Sands and her personal issues 

- Although you really hope they are resolved now 

- For your sake as well as hers

support my writing! if you want! 

[ijustwant2write]

The Nice One-Fred Weasley x Muggle!Dursley!Reader

(GIF credit to @avocadosalad2​)

Masterlist

Prompt List

Tag List: @obsessedwithrandomthings​

Requested by anonymous: 'I have this idea about Fred Weasley falling in love with Harry’s muggle cousin. a dursley. Maybe y/n and Harry were always really close and she obviously knows all about magic. She’s the only person, Harry actually loved and trusted as a child and that didn’t change when he found out he was wizard so there really close, he sees her as a sister. Maybe he wants to introduce her to ginny because Harry wants her approval. And reader ends up liking Fred, and Fred likes her back.'

Characters: Fred Weasley x Muggle!Dursley!Reader, Harry Potter x Muggle!Dursley!Reader (cousin), Weasley Family x Muggle!Dursley!Reader (platonic), Hermione Granger x Muggle!Dursley!Reader (Platonic)

Meanings: (Y/N)=Your name

Warnings: Mention of neglect/child abuse, lots of fluff

                                     *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Sitting back in a plastic chair, I looked out of the huge window of the coffee shop, sighing as I realised it had started to rain. I never minded the rain really, but it had been like this since May, with no sign of a proper English summer in sight. Harry returning to the table with two mugs of tea distracted me, and I smiled as he set them on the table, sitting opposite to me.

“It feels like ages since we did this.” I said, blowing over the top of the tea.

“Yeah, I’m sorry I’ve not called or contacted you in any way recently.” he apologised, casting his eyes down.

“Harry, you don’t have to be sorry for anything.” I reassured him.“You’ve been making your life in...well, your world. We’ve all grown up, had to get used to becoming adults and such. Though it is a shame we haven’t seen each other for over a year.”

“Year and a half actually.”

“I wasn’t surprised when you invited me here though. Of course, this is under better circumstances. I’m not having to drag you out of the house to avoid my parents.”

“No, this is much nicer.”  he chuckled.“How are they by the way? I was able to see Dudley last month.”

“They’re fine, same as always. I don’t see them as much as I should, though I do call them often. Sometimes it’s hard you know, especially after all that’s happened in the last few years.” I took a sip of tea, finally able to start drinking it.

Harry seemed hesitant to speak again.“Actually, I was wanting to ask you something.”

“Yeah?” 

“Do you remember me talking to you about a girl called Ginny?”

“Ooh, has my little cousin fallen in love?” I was teasing until I saw the genuine smile on his face.“Wait, Harry, do you really like this girl?”

“W-well...I h-have for a while, we actually told each other our feelings when, when other things turned serious. And it’s been going good between us, really good, which leads me to my question.”

I was confused as to where this was going, but waited for him to carry on.

“I was wondering if you would come meet her?”

“You want me to meet her?” I excitedly repeated. 

“Yeah,” he smiled back,“there’s going to be a birthday party for me at her family home. She’s a Weasley.”

“Wait, isn’t that the last name of your friend Ron?”

“It is.”

“You’re dating your best friend’s sister?”

“I’ve already talked about it with him! Do you remember I stayed with him over that summer, and I wrote to you from there?”

“The Burrow!”

He nodded.“They’re more than happy to have you there.”

“Of course I’ll come Harry! For now, you have to tell me everything about this Ginny girl.”

The party was two weeks away, and I could not contain my excitement as it got closer and closer. Although Harry had told me much about the wizarding world, he was the only wizard I had ever met (unless I counted that giant man that had tracked us down when Harry first found out he possessed magic, though there weren’t any introductions), and I was extremely excited to meet more of them. Would they constantly be using magic? Would they just conjure up food and drink? And would they be comfortable with me there? I knew that Harry wouldn’t leave me alone unless I was one hundred percent comfortable with everyone.

It was surprising that Harry hadn’t become irritated with me on the day of his party. He was coming to pick me up, and I had greeted him with an over excited tone, setting off a party popper which made strings of confetti land on his head. I had never been able to celebrate Harry’s birthdays publicly, always sneaking into his room or under the cupboard to give him a small present and a hug to wish him happy birthday (once I was earning my own pocket money, or sweetly asking dad for a few pounds, I would buy him cupcakes as a birthday cake, stashing away sweets for him after he saw how much we were given). Dragging him into my flat, I demanded he close his eyes, dashing in and out of the kitchen with a stupid grin on my face. Counting down from three, I giggled as Harry opened his eyes, smiling when he saw me holding a cupcake with a candle in my hands.

"You didn't forget."

"Of course I didn't. Is it...is it alright?" I became worried, wondering if I had brought up bad memories.

"No, no, I actually missed this. It was one of the things I looked forward to each year."

He blew out the candle, sighing when I urged him to close his eyes and make a wish. Harry then pushed me to get a move on, his eyes widening when he saw me pick up two presents with wrapping paper, as well as a smaller one on top. I walked past him before he could say anything about them, handing him the keys to lock up.

As we turned up at the infamous Burrow, I couldn't help but stand back in awe. It was like nothing I had ever seen, and although shabby looking, very put together, it had some sort of charm to it, it was so different to other houses. Harry had already taken a few steps forward, stopping when he noticed me not move.

"(Y/N)?"

My eyes snapped back down to him."Oh, sorry."

"It's going to be fine." he said, coming to stand beside me.

I just nodded, walking next to him and standing back when he knocked on the door. A short woman opened it, squealing with excitement when she saw Harry, and as she dragged him in for a hug, she playfully scolded him for knocking, claiming that he could waltz in whenever. Staying outside, I poked my head in, still holding the presents in my arms. I watched as Harry was engulfed in numerous hugs, everyone wishing him happy birthday as well as joking and laughing with him. It shocked me. The only time I saw him this happy was when I was able to cheer him up as kids (and that was extremely hard to do when he lived in the hell hole I called home), but a sudden wave of emotion attacked me, I was so happy to see him being treated right.

"Everyone, this is my cousin, (Y/N)." Harry interrupted my thoughts once again, gesturing for me to step inside.

Sheepishly walking in, I held onto the presents a little tighter, smiling through the awkwardness. There were so many of them standing there.

"Here, let me take those from you love." a man who seemed to be the dad offered, placing the presents on a nearby table. Now I was out in the open.

"So this is the decent one?" one of the younger lads said to break the silence.

"Ronald Weasley, you mind your manners!" the woman scolded him."Don't mind him dear, it's lovely to meet you. Harry has never stopped talking about you."

"He's right though," Harry said,"this is the nice one."

"It's nice to see that Harry stayed in such a lovely place, and with lovely people."

Really (Y/N)? That's the first thing you come out with?

"Oh what a sweetheart." the woman gushed."Believe me, they look like angels, but they don't act like one."

Harry soon broke us into a general conversation, attempting to introduce me to everyone. This family was so different to mine. It felt more loving, as if they didn't hate to be around each other all the time. They included each other in every conversation, they laughed together, joked around with each other. And they also included me.

We were sat around a long table, squeezed amongst one another with food and drink laid out. I had Harry one side of me, and his old friend Hermione on my other. I believed that she and Ron had romantic connections, but I was hoping she would shed some light on Harry's love life, as Ginny was sat beside him.

"They've only recently become public. Everyone knew that they were together, it was bound to happen. But we all acted surprised anyway." Hermione and I giggled, drowned out by the sound of everyone talking.

"Oh bless him, he seemed very happy when he mentioned her. That's why he invited me actually, he was wondering what I would think about her. They don't seem to be able to keep their eyes off each other."

"Someone else seems to have their eyes on someone." she smirked.

I followed her eye line, seeing one of the twins looking in our direction before averting their gaze. I had remembered that they were each wearing the same jumper but with different colours, thankfully making it easier to tell them apart. It had been Fred looking my way, and I hated that I was blushing already; no one had looked at me like that for a long time.

"I'm sure that was nothing." I mumbled.

"If you say so." I heard Ginny say, making me whip my head round to her. She was leaning forward to look at me, and I saw Harry holding back a laugh.

"Come on, I haven't even spoken to him."

"Maybe you should. Perhaps this was meant to happen."

Molly stopped all chatter across the table, standing up to announce that it was present time. Heaps of presents were pushed down to our end of the table, Harry was shocked by how many there were, but stuck right in. After thanking all of the Weasley’s for their sweet presents, especially Ginny. With my presents left, I felt all eyes on me, nervous as to what they would think of my gifts.

One was a collection of books he read when he was younger (until my brother got angry at him and ripped out the pages), the other was two shirts I knew would look nice on him. The last present was a photo book, which I had had personalised; on the front it said ‘Harry’s Memories’, in a beautiful swirling style of writing. The toothy grin on his face fell slightly, and I began to panic again. Everyone waited for him to open the book, a slight tension in the air. Harry slowly opened the book, reading the message I had left for him in his head. It entailed fond memories we had, and how proud I was of him for setting out to school by himself, and how many times he was brave enough to put himself on the line for his friends and family. Turning the next page, a breathless laugh left his lips when he saw the photos I chose. Unfortunately there weren’t many of us together, or of him in general, but I had raided our old cameras back home to find any photos I had taken of him without my parent’s knowledge. After flipping over another page that turned out to be blank, he looked up at me, as did everyone else.

“It’s blank so that you can fill it. I knew you wouldn’t want memories of home, just...just me I suppose. But I’m sure you’ve got better memories to put in there now.” I shyly explained.

“This is amazing, thank you (Y/N).” Harry said, hugging me tightly.

“The pictures aren’t moving?” Ginny questioned.

My eyebrows furrowed in confusion.“Your pictures move?”

Once dinner was done with, along with a round of singing as the birthday cake came out, we all broke off into smaller groups. This would have given me an opportunity to speak to Ginny, I had a strong feeling that she was absolutely perfect for him, they seemed well matched, but I still wanted a chat at least. However, Harry had stolen her away, and it wasn’t the right time to intervene. As I thought about who to talk to, Fred walked up to me, leaning against the kitchen counter top as I was.

“Thought you looked a little lonely over here.” he said, but it wasn’t in a cocky way, he was being genuinely kind. 

“Thanks.” I laughed.

He smiled.“I-I didn’t mean it like that.”

I looked up at him.“No I know what you meant. I was actually thanking you.”

“Ah.”

There was a moment of silence as neither of us were sure what to say next. Suddenly, something popped into my mind,“You know, I’ve seen you before.”

“What?”

“When you came to rescue Harry, in your flying car. I was in my room, but my room was next to Harry’s, so I could just about see you and your brothers.”

“That was so many years ago.”

I nodded.“I just remember how shocked I was when I saw the car, but also how relieved I felt when I saw Harry get in there. I was in trouble for not going to my parents straight away though.”

“You don’t sound like a typical Dursley at all.”

���I suppose I’m not. I was never the favourite, for some reason Dudley was. But I was so focused on keeping Harry somewhat happy that it didn’t matter. I just got good results at school, made friends and kept the biggest secret in the world.”

“It is slightly strange having a Muggle about.”

“How do you think I feel? The dishes are doing themselves over there!” I gestured to the sink where there was a floating plate and sponge. He laughed at that."That would be so useful to have at home, especially after a long day."

"So," he crossed his arms over his chest, leaning towards me,"what do you think about our families combining?"

I took a sip of my drink, following his eye line to Harry and Ginny."I can't express how happy I am for him."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. And I'm not just saying nice things because Ginny is your sister. Harry had a long talk about what happened in the past, he's mentioned her, well, all of you, a lot. You've all been able to give him much more than I have."

"That's not true. Harry has expressed multiple times how he didn't know what he would have done if you weren't there for him."

"Seems like everything has worked out perfectly in the end. It even feels right me being here."

"I can agree on that."

"Even if I'm a Muggle?"

"Can't say that's the first thing I noticed about you."

My eyes widened slightly, slowly looking down into the content of my cup."Fred, if I didn't know any better, I would say you were flirting with me."

"Thank god you noticed, thought I might have to start using pick up lines."

"You still can if you want to."

"Nah, think I'll save that for a first date."

"If you're asking, then the answer would be a yes."

"Well, glad that's been sorted."

I giggled quietly, trying not to show how much I was enjoying this."Do I get to find out where you're taking me?"

"If I'm honest, I wasn't sure if I would get this far."

We laughed together, catching the attention of his parents who were with Hermione and Ron. We quietened down, finding it hard to hold back on giggling. Before we could even continue speaking, Harry was approaching me, and I knew he wanted to find out what had happened since he left me alone.

"So, uh, what are you two talking about?" Harry failed to play dumb.

I rolled my eyes, placing a hand on his shoulder."OK, whilst you interrogate my date, I'll go talk to your girlfriend. Sound like a deal?"

"D-date?"

"Don't act like you weren't listening. Relax Harry, this is your party after all."

I heard him sigh to Fred as I walked away."You two are going to be trouble, I just know it."

[rachelbethhines]

Tangled Salt Marathon - Be Very Afraid

This is the best story arc episode in season three and arguably the best written episode since The Great Tree, but it’s still season three so there are still issues with it. 

Summary: When Zhan Tiri tells Cassandra she must destroy Rapunzel in order to wield the Moonstone's true power, Cassandra discovers that she can create, with fear, red rock spikes that cause fear and freeze their victims. Varian discovers the red rocks and teams up with Rapunzel to use his amber solution on them. Meanwhile, Eugene and Lance decide to throw a talent show to distract everyone from their fears. 

Why Can’t Cassandra Control The Rocks?

The series never gives an actual explanation for this. She could control them just fine in Rapunzel’s Return, so what’s changed? 

There is No Destiny!

There’s no prophecy, no oracle, no grand design nor master of fate to fight back against; the characters literally have no reason to do what they do. If you want destiny to be a goal then you have to establish what that destiny is first. 

What does Cassandra want? How does this connect back to Gothel, Rapunzel, and the Moonstone? Why she just failing about like an idiot here? Did she not have a plan when she threw her life away for this stupid rock? 

And of course Zhan Tiri is lying here, but why should Cassandra believe her? What does she gain by listening to a creepy ghost girl? This ‘destiny’ has not been established, so therefore there’s no hook nor bait for Zhan Tiri to trap her with. 

Leading directly into “you should kill your bestie’ should logically put Cassandra off of Zhan Tiri’s advice for good because Zhan Tiri isn’t actually offering anything. Temptation requires the person to be, you know, tempted by what they want, but Cassandra doesn’t know what she wants so none of this makes sense. 

The writing is desperately trying to make Cass sympathetic here, but all it winds up doing is making her look like a moron instead. 

This Isn’t Consistent

Not only does this fail to explain why Cass could control the rocks previously but no longer can, but it’s also contradicted just a couple of episodes later with the incantation bullshit. 

You need an established magic system in place in order for the character’s actions to make sense show!

This Ultimately Goes Nowhere

Ignoring how Varian should have been in season two and how translating the scroll should have led to freeing his father, which we’ve talked about previously; this subplot should have had more impact on the narrative than it actually did. Yes, Varian’s translation winds up driving the plot of Cassandra’s Revenge, but 90% of that episode winds up being utterly pointless, including the incantations themselves, so.... 

I Like This Sequence; Shame It Winds Up Being Undermined Later  

Unlike the majority of dream sequences in this show, this nightmare has an actual point. It more firmly establishes Varian’s fears and gives the audience some insight into what happened to him back in season one. Something we were sorely lacking. It also becomes the core conflict and drive of Varian’s character development through out the episode. 

Only for the episode to ignore Varian’s real issues and fail to adequately address anything. By series end this plot point will be completely forgotten. The show acts like bringing it up once and then never acknowledging it ever again just magically revolves Varian’s character arc. It doesn’t.  

So How Come Quirin Isn’t Affected By the Rocks? 

He’s right there next to them and he shows no reaction to them at all. You’re telling me the man who lost his home twice to these things, almost died to them, and nearly lost his only child because of them, is just not going to respond to new creepy red ones popping up? 

Quirin would have a treasure trove of trauma to explore in his own right, that undoubtedly would connect back to Varian’s own issues, but we’re just going to ignore it and have Quirin off screen for the majority of the episode?

Are These New Character Models?

Are you shitting me!? 

They built five new models just for a short two minute scene, one where none of the new characters are named nor given lines, only to never appear ever again!

What the fuck? Why did you waste time and money on this? What happened to all of the other background characters you already built? Did a bunch of season one models just get lost or deleted or something? 

Also why are they all wearing green? Is it St. Paddy’s Day? 

This Plot Point Wasn’t Established Enough Beforehand

Look, I’ll buy that there are people in Corona who still blame Varian for what happened in season one and for the Sapoiran take over. I mean they’re only getting half the story and were directly effected by his actions whether or not he intended harm to them. But we needed to see more of it beyond just this one scene.

No one was bullying him in Lost Treasure or The King and Queen of Hearts, so for all purposes he appeared to be integrated back into society, and now you’re telling me he’s not and that Rapunzel risked his well being by forcing him to interact with people who were hostile to him back in Lost Treasure? 

And yeah you can’t really move Lost Treasure back any further than it already is cause that’d leave a giant hole in the wall of the throne room for over a year. Which also makes no sense either. 

Or hey, maybe it’s just Feldspar being an asshole. In which case why should Varian or the audience care? 

Eugene is Wasted

Look I understand that there’s only twenty five minutes to tell this story and that Eugene isn’t the focus of the episode. I also understand that the B-plot is meant to be comedic in order to relive tension from the A plot, but this wasn’t the best way to go about it. 

The B plot swings too far wide in the other direction that it dilutes the tension too much. The A plot now has to work over time to keep the urgency going. I could understand it, if the show wanted start off with small fears first, but it needed to ramp up the drama as it got closer to the climax, not under cut it. 

We never see Eugene freak out over anything other this this cowlick. In fact we never see him scared of anything else beyond this one scene, which undermines Rapunzel’s arc this episode as she’s suppose to be the only one bottling things in. What makes Eugene so special that he can keep a lid on it with out consequences, or are you telling me that a dumb cowlick is his only fear? 

Either answer is stupid. 

I Hope You Have Copies of the Map

You went through all that trouble to steal the journal for this very reason and now here you are prancing around without it like it’s not that big of deal. Way to undermined past story arcs. 

It’s like the writers know that season one was their most successful season, and therefore try to make callbacks to it whenever they can, to make up for ignoring it in season two completely, but they still don’t want to actually acknowledge anything that happened during that season so they just refer to it in the laziest way possible, rendering the previous events pointless. 

So Close and Yet So Far

I’m mainly posting this whole conversation so that you dear readers will have context for what I talk about next. 

For you see, this scene starts out okay and it looks like we’re finally going to address the elephant in the room regarding Rapunzel’s involvement in Varian’s past trauma, only for the scene to immediately side step the issue all together and not resolve the conflict at all. 

No! Don’t Interrupt; Listen! 

Or at least go all the way and accept some of the blame yourself. 

It may look like Rapunzel is comforting Varian here on a superficial level, but without her verballing acknowledging what she did wrong, this action just winds up taking the focus off of Varian and what he needs and places it upon Rapunzel, both narratively and physically.

So what happens is that, in universe, it comes across like she’s just consoling Varian for her own personal comfort rather than genuinely trying to help. 

Why Would Varian Ever Think This? 

Okay, first off this has nothing to do with what Varian was talking about previously. Why would he jump from discussing his trauma to praising Rapunzel? You know the woman who is responsible for said trauma? 

Secondly, this switches the focus of the conflict off of Varian’s specific trauma and makes it about a generic “over coming fear” lesson mixed with an out of place validation issue. Which is not what’s actually needed for his character development; nor for Rapunzel’s for that matter. 

Third, being the sundrop has nothing to do with Rapunzel as a person. Her being born with magical powers was an accident of fate, same as her being royalty. She’s not innately better than anybody else because of this and nobody has any narrative reason to assume otherwise. Especially since her powers are utterly disconnected from her actual personality, choices, and actions. All three of which have become unbearably unpleasant by the last season. 

Finally, Varian, of all people should be the last person on earth to ever think so highly of Rapunzel. Them being friends again is already pushing believability. Him suddenly kissing her ass the same as everyone else this season is just flat out bad writing.  

Varian knows better than anybody what an awful person Rapunzel is. He’s seen her at her worse. He’s seen her not live up to her hypocritical ideals. He knows the larger problems that steam from placing people in power on pedestals. As her former victim, Varian by all accounts should be the one person who can bring Rapunzel down to earth and poke holes into her ego, even while still being her friend. Especially while still being her friend. She needs that! Writing Varian as another blind Rapunzel stan is not only writing him out of character, but it also damages Rapunzel’s own development. 

Also Varian hates magic. Why would he now worship someone just for having magic? 

THIS AIN’T ABOUT YOU BITCH!!!

I literally yelled that at my tv screen when I first saw this scene. Those were my exact words upon the episode’s first airing. And believe it or not, I’m not one to usually scream obscenities at inanimate objects. 

I understand what the writers were trying to accomplish here. They wanted Rapunzel to ease the tension by saying something funny and to make Varian laugh to distract him from his woes; thereby defusing the situation. But it doesn’t work because of season three’s tendency to make Rapunzel the most egotistical, smug, self-centered, abusive, self-righteous twat in the show. 

It really boggles the mind just how unaware the writing is. Like, surely no one makes their protagonist this unlikable on accident. Clearly they meant for Rapunzel to be an ass on purpose right?  They wanted Cass to have a reason to hate her so they decided to make her insufferable to the viewer in a misguided attempt to make Cass more sympathetic? Right? 

Then where is the bloody comeuppance? 

I genuinely thought this was all going to lead somewhere. That Rapunzel was going to learn to be a better person and I would have been fine by that. I would have applauded the show if they had turned her into an asshole intentionally so that they could teach a mature and nuanced lesson about morality. 

But they didn’t, and here I am; still shaking my head in confusion over a year later. 

Seriously what the fuck happened behind the scenes to cause this? How can processionals paid by the largest animation company in the world be so incompetent? 

Having Trauma is Not the Same Thing as Having a Phobia  

This is where Varian’s arc falls apart. Not only does the episode fail to have Rapunzel acknowledge her past wrongs for a second time, but it also completely mishandles Varian’s trauma because it equates it to being an irrational fear. One that can be overcome through pure force of will at that, same as Lance and everyone else’s fears in the episode. 

Ok first off Varian’s fear isn’t irrational. He even just said so at the start of the conversation. Varian’s trauma is very real, it’s not a hypothetical unlike clown-spiders and cowlicks. Also has been given very little reassurance that it won't happen again. Varian has no reason to trust Rapunzel or anybody else in the show. They never owned up to abandoning him previously, and both he and the audience have little reason to believe that Rapunzel wouldn’t just neglect him again if it was convenient for her.   

Secondly one does not simply ‘overcome’ trauma. Oh you can deal with trauma, you can manage it and learn to live with it. But it never goes away. It doesn’t magically disappear just because you ‘faced it’. 

In fact confronting it head on is actually the opposite of what your suppose to do when going through something traumatic. Studies have shown that distracting your mind after a car crash or what have you actually helps with PTSD later on. And ‘dealing with it” doesn’t mean ignoring the problem out right, but rather learning how to function despite the pain. 

But as the show acts like Varian’s trauma never even existed after this episode. 

This Doesn’t Resolve Anything!

What does “being special” have to with fear? How does this help Varian with his trauma? Empty validation has nothing to with what we were just discussing. 

Everyone gets afraid. Everyone has trauma of some sort. Are you telling me that my need for therapy some 20 years after being physically assaulted is just because I’m not special enough? Fuck you show! 

Moreover, this doesn’t resolve the story arc from season one. Varian and Rapunzel’s conflict with each other has nothing to do with self esteem. It was about personal responsibility, conflicting needs, and abuse. Yes, self image and acceptance was a small factor in their motivations, but it was never the driving goal behind their decisions. 

This is yet another broken narrative promise to the audience. There’s no closure to be had from this and leaves the viewer wanting, if not outright frustrated. 

In order to justify this exchange fans have to ‘read between the lines’ and make shit up in order for any of this to make any sense. People who still defend season three do by doing all the heavy lifting that writers themselves should be doing. 

If it’s not on screen, it doesn’t count. 

If Rapunzel never apologizes on screen, then she never apologized. If Rapunzel never checked up on Varian on screen, then she neglected him outright. If Rapunzel never acknowledges her wrong doings on screen, then she’s never learned anything. The characters pretending like she has doesn’t make it so. 

Why Does Cassandra Even Want a Destiny? 

Yes, Zhan Tiri is lying, there is no destiny, but Zhan Tiri being a liar doesn’t absolve Cassandra of her own actions. 

Cassandra herself believes in destiny and is looking for her’s, but why? 

Why does she want a destiny? What is this destiny she’s after? Why does she believe such a thing exists? What does she believe it’ll gain her? Why is she willing to risk so much for such a vague goal? What does any of this have to do with the moonstone or her mother? How does this destiny connect back with her personal feud with Rapunzel? 

It’s all disjointed and confused. Nothing lines up. It’s like the writers just had this dart board full of ideas for Cassandra’s villain arc, but couldn’t decide on which one to go with, so they just threw darts randomly each episode and went with whatever stuck for any given scene.

“Oh she want’s revenge for her mother during this scene, or wait no, she’s actually looking for destiny this episode?” “What destiny?” “Who knows. Now for this scene we need her to be sad because reasons...” “What reason?” “I don't care, make something up... Uuuuh, she’s sad cause she’s not a royal guard still” “But she became a guard during season one.” “Ignore that. Kids won’t remember. Now she needs to be angry and threating here” “Why?” “Because it’ll look cool.” “But why is she angry?” “Cause it looks cool Bob! Geez! Oh but she still needs to be sympathetic so give her a frowny face afterwards. Just have Zhan Tiri remind her how much she hates Rapunzel later, so as to egg her on and keep her doing stupid shit?”  “But why does she hate Rapunzel?”  “Do I have to think of everything BOB!!!???”  

There, there’s my non-so-accurate behind the scene’s glimpse into the Tangled writer’s room when discussing Cassandra’s arc. I could be wrong. There could have been some intricate and complex plan thought out that just didn’t make it onto the screen for whatever reason, or maybe everyone involved was so far up their own ass that they just forgot to give their main villain an actual reason for being the villain. But regardless the over all effect is that Cassandra is handed the idiot ball for a whole freaken season in order to even have a conflict and that is never good writing; or rather she’s hit in the head with it repeatedly. 

This Actually Goes Against Zhan Tiri’s Plan

Zhan Tiri’s short term goal is to be released from her dimensional prison and apparently she needs Cass and Raps to fight into order to do this. This was never established before hand and goes against her disciples pervious plans, but whatever. One could argue that this is just a lie in order to get them to fight later... 

However, this lie jeopardizes her long term goal. She eventually wants to wield both the moonstone and the sundrop herself in order to destroy Corona, but Rapunzel is the sundrop and you can only take her power during an ellipse, supposedly, which means if Cass actually succeeds in killing Rapunzel before then, then Zhan Tiri is up a creek without a paddle. Also if Cassandra did manage to steal Raps’ power with or without an ellipse then Zhan Tiri would still be out of luck. 

This was wholly unnecessary; you didn’t have to go from zero to sixty in one fell swoop. Have Zhan Tiri claim that fighting Rapunzel will award the power to the winner or something. There’s no need to bring up the ‘kill her’ option. That should logically just drive Cassandra away and puts Zhan Tiri’s plan at risk. 

The series wants to act like Zhan Tiri is this master manipulator, a chess master like Zantos or Palpatine, but she couldn’t even tie their shoes. Her plans make no sense and often contradict one another. They only work because the rest of the cast are reduced to imbeciles in order for them to work. 

This Plot Point Contradicts Season Two

His fear of spiders was establish early on, and I’ll accept the clown thing as there’s nothing to contradict it, but Lance has preformed numerous times before now and has never show stage fright. He’s a huge ham and back in Return of Quaid he mentioned how much loved acting and preforming and apparently been on stage before, so where does this fear of singing in public come from? Heck he sung in public just a few episodes ago in Rapunzel’s Return. 

If you have to sacrifice established character into order to make your plot work then you need a new plot. 

This Song is Nice; It Just Needed to Be in a Different Episode 

I’m glad Lance got a solo. He deserved one and the song is good. However it breaks the tension of the climax and gives the episode tonal whiplash. 

More than a song, Lance needed an actual focus episode in season three. One that was fully his. If anyone else shared it with him it needed to be Red and Angry, not Varian and Cass. 

Just imagine if this song came during an episode where he had to watch the girls. Imagine if he was singing it just for them. How much more impactful would that have been? 

Now imagine that we had a Rapunzel and Varian duet in it’s place here. That would have tied the episode together better and helped to further their own stories. Glenn Slater can write lyrics far better than Chris can write dialogue. I bet you a thousand to one Tangled the Series would have solved like half of it’s problems had Menken and Slater been allowed write and actual apology duet between Raps and Varian. 

Such a duet was proposed during Rapunzel’s Return but it could have worked here too, and you could have placed Lance’s solo in Day of the Animals or something, just leave Rapunzel out of that episode all together. 

Nothing honestly needed to be cut music wise, yet for some reason season three has less songs than the other seasons, even when counting the reprises, and they’re mostly shorter too. 

That’s mismanagement right there. Plain and simple. Someone at the top didn’t know how to balance the budget or resources and didn’t know where to the throw the money at. 

You Have a 70 Foot Shield Made of Magic Hair, Rapunzel

You couldn’t think to just block those rocks instead?

Giving your protagonist a big hero moment doesn’t work if they placed the person the have to save in jeopardy to begin with show. 

I Do Not Care About Rapunzel Right Now, Show

Yes, she’s the main character. Yes, her feud with Cass is the main conflict of the season and kicked off the episode. That does not mean that I automatically care about her personal feelings at this moment in time. 

Rapunzel has kept such a tight lid on her real feelings for the whole episode that this just comes out of nowhere. I was never waiting with baited breath for her to confess her deep dark secrets or whatever. 

It’s not even an interesting reveal. It’s just “Oh, see Rapunzel’s human too. She’s gets scared just like everybody else.”. I already fucking knew that, thanks. And what she’s afraid of isn’t even that compelling either; it’s a just a rip off of the prophecy dreams she had back in season one. The same ones that had no explanation and never furthered the story, so why should I care about this one?  

You have to earn the audience’s investment in your conflict. The character’s likability, as little as that may be currently, will only carry you so far, you have to establish shit first.  

Varian’s conflict has been the focus of the entire episode so far, and it’s a conflict that was set all the way back in season one, so of course that is what I’m invested in seeing get resolved. Rapunzel is once again just butting in and making it all about her when it’s not actually her story. 

And if you wanted it to be her story then you should have made her the actual focus to begin with and had her learn something by the end of it. 

This is Poor Choice of Words, Writers 

I could be generous here and pass this off as Rapunzel not fully believing in this prophecy. After all Corona’s destruction is still a hypothetical at this point and Cassandra really has left already. Since the episode is about fear, Rapunzel is of course more afraid of losing Cassandra’s friendship as it’s real tangible possibility. 

More than a possibility even, Rapunzel’s been dumped. Season three is a classic break up story, right down to the poor plotting and tunnel vision, hence why it’s so gay baity. 

However, this reading only carries so far. For starters this is Rapunzel’s what, fourth prophecy dream so far? Haven’t the past three already came true, so why would she think this one wouldn’t? 

Secondly, all that good grace goes right out the window once it becomes clear that, yes, Cassandra is indeed a threat; a threat that Rapunzel refuses to take seriously because she cares more about her own personal validation than her kingdom. 

Even as Cassandra does succeed in destroying Corona, and no doubt harms other people while at it, Rapunzel still is obsessed with ‘winning Cassandra back’. Oh and make no mistake, this is not because she actually cares about Cassandra as a person and her needs or feelings. Nope. Rapunzel just doesn’t like being dumped. 

Why Does Varian Need to Shove His Feelings Aside for Rapunzel’s Bullshit?

Rapunzel’s ‘confession’ has fuck all to do with Varian’s current issues. They do not connect in any way.  

Varian is dealing with real trauma, trauma that she helped cause, while Rapunzel is only dealing with a hypothetical prophecy and one very shallow, self-centered fear. There’s nothing to relate to here. Neither for Varian himself nor the audience. 

Yet for some undefined reason this is what gets Varian to ignore his PTSD flashbacks? What? 

This is once again break the narrative promise. I was promised closure for Varian’s story arc and instead of that the writers just brush it up under the rug. 

From the outside looking in this doesn’t come across as Varian ‘overcoming’ his ‘fear’. It looks like an abuse victim using learned helplessness to placate his abusers.

And yes, for the last time Rapunzel is Varian’s abuser. 

NEGLECT IS ABUSE!!! 

And and even though he is no longer her ‘responsibility’, she is still neglecting him emotionally as his supposed friend. 

Varian’s and Cassandra’s Stories Undermined Each Other’s 

Varian stopped the rocks. Rapunzel had nothing to do with it. Zhan Tiri blaming Rapunzel for it steals agency away from both her and Cassandra. 

However, if Rapunzel had used the hurt incantation to stop the rocks and Cassandra had felt it rom the other side, then you’d have something to back up Zhan Tiri’s claim and an actual point of real conflict to carry the rest of the season. Not to mention an actual tangible goal for Cassandra to work towards, survival. 

Cassandra’s conflict with Rapunzel not only prevents the resolution to Varian’s arc from being satisfying, but Varian fulfilling his arc in turn winds up cutting off Cass’s story at the knees. 

It didn’t have to be this way. Varian’s and Cassandra’s arcs should have complimented each other, but instead the creator decided to make them complete for screen time and relevance. 

It is such an gratingly stupid and petty decision that winds up being a disservice for all the characters involved.   

Cassandra’s motivation and goal should have been revealed back in season two. Varian should have been the sole focus of Rapunzel’s Return and gotten his big hero moment there along; with an actual ending to his conflict with Rapunzel that didn’t feel so lopsided and half assed. Then Rapunzel and Cassandra could have both been held accountable for their conflict in season three, instead of pretending like their shit smelled of roses the whole damn time. 

Lance Got a Whole Crowd Cheering Him On For Singing a Song, Varian Just Gets One Asshole Giving Him a Single Line of Congratulations

Did I mention this show has an odd anti-Varian bias? Cause it does. For whatever reasons his own creators hate him and that’s just utterly baffling to me. Like why create a main character that you don’t like? 

I look down on professional writers who treat characters they didn’t create poorly within their works, like with James Gunn and Scrappy Doo in the Scooby Doo Movie, Adric in the Doctor Who spin offs, or even the treatment of Doofus in Ducktales 2017. I don't care how much a character is liked or disliked by fandom, that shit is just tasteless and often unfunny. But at least I understand where they are coming from when they do it. 

But I’ll never understand what compels a writer to sabotage their own work; one that they are getting paid to write no less. Especially when said character is super popular with their fans. And Chris knows this. He knows the ratings plummeted without Varian in season two. He knows the merch didn’t sell because there wasn’t enough Varian products. That’s why he hyped up Varian’s return a whole week before Season Three’s airing with a massive online campaign, but he wasn’t smart enough to treat the character decently afterwards? 

I mean congrats, you convinced a just enough viewers to come back to season three to keep the show on the air I guess, but you left them all pissed off and have nothing to show for it to the higher ups a Disney. 

And Chris wonders why he wasn’t asked back to work on new Disney princesses shows that are currently in the works. 

That is Not Quirin. That is a Plank of Wood Pretending to be Quirin.

*Beep* *Boop*...*Dad Bot Is Proud. exe* 

Quirin is such a pale shadow of his season one self that he might as well not exist. I genuinely don't know why the writers released from the amber so early if they weren’t actually going to use him until the season finale. 

For the longest time I honestly thought that Rapunzel sucked out his soul with that decay incantation; what with that lyric about “setting the spirit free”. I genuinely thought that would be a later plot point, but nope, it’s just bad writing

Him just saying hi to son once and smiling blankly isn’t compelling and it’s isn’t fulfilling. It doesn’t actually resolve his arc. I mean he’s at least shown spending time with his son, but that’s not enough. We need to see him acknowledge past, we need to see him acknowledge his own flaws, and we need to see him being more attentive when Varian is in need. .  

Season one Quirin would be trying to stop Varian from going near the red rocks, a post season one Quirin should logically go after his son to make sure he’s alright, even if he’s know longer trying to actively stop Varian like he once did. 

There’s also that damn note and it’s secrets! 

You know what? That’s it. That’s the problem. The focus is all wrong in season three. Episodes get pulled into to many directions trying to juggle too many characters rather than dedicating the needed time to each individual arc. 

Season two’s finale should have been a three parter with Cass’s full motivation and goal laid bare before leaving.

Rapunzel’s Return should have been solely about Rapunzel and Varian’s conflict and resolving that arc fully 

Either Who’s Afraid of the Big Bad Wolf or Day of the Animals should have been a Lance episode about him and the girl’s, no Rapunzel. 

And this episode should have been about Quirin and Varian resolving their issues, with the Rapunzel and Cass stuff as the B plot not the stupid talent show 

There, all fixed. You don't even have to cut much, just rework the focus and leave Rapunzel and Cassandra out of conflicts they have no business being in. 

This Does Not Excuse Rapunzel’s Later Negligence Regarding Cassandra

Just because the red rocks was an accident doesn’t mean Cassandra should get a free pass for all the awful things she does later. Rapunzel uses this one interaction to excuse everything else Cassandra does in season three, as if she was just some poor lost baby and not a grown ass woman out to kill them. 

In fact Cass showing hesitancy here actually makes her later actions even worse. This means that she fully acknowledges that what she’s about to do is wrong, but goes ahead and does anyway, even gleefully so at times. Then she has to gall to act baffled when people see her as a threat? 0.o 

When fans say Cass isn’t redeemable or shouldn’t be redeemed, it’s not because he actions are so much worse than everybody else’s (even though they are), It’s because she doesn’t act like she wants to be redeemed half the time. The show doesn’t properly set up her ‘redemption’, instead it just lazily has Rapunzel yell at us how she’s ‘not lost’. 

Like below for instance. 

What Does Cass Need Saving From?

Cassandra is not in danger. She is the danger. 

She made the conscious decision to leave taking a world endangering artifact with her, and she later makes the conscious decision to come back and be an asshole for no adequately defined reason. 

She’s never shown to be in any physical danger from the rocks, the moonstone, or even Zhan Tiri herself. She apparently can take care of herself in the wild for over a year. She also has the capability of getting a job else where and just living out her life if she wanted to. Nothing is forcing her to listen to Zhan Tiri. 

Heck, even her hurt arm, the one thing Rapunzel is responsible for and could potentially be a continued threat to Cass’s well being, is just completely forgotten about.

And no, mental illness and past trauma are not excuses as well. In fact it’s rather insulting to both people with mental heath problems and abusive survivors to suggest otherwise. We don't need ‘saving from ourselves’ and we aren’t automatically dangers to anybody. Nor do we get free passes if we hurt someone. A jerk who happens to have a mental illness is just a jerk who so happens to have a mental illness; coloration is not causation. 

Conclusion 

It’s better than Rapunzel’s Return, but this episode was still a disappointment. A small part of me whishes this was a two parter because it has so much untapped potential, but I know it’s just be wasted in Chris’s hands. 

Anyways, I consider this to be the true mid-season finale of S3. Not only did the hiatus kick in after this episode, but it also clearly divides the season between the first half filler and the later Cass conflict. As such the next entry will be the mid-season recap. See ya, then. 

Ko-fi https://ko-fi.com/rachelbethhines

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[sakura-83]

Things from Anne with an e that I feel like writing down

Season 1 Episode 7: Wherever You Are Is My Home

⚠️WARNING!!!⚠️ this episode not only talks about suicidal thoughts but also a character trying to commit such acts, of you are sensitive to this I suggest you just skip this post or at least skip #75-77

1. Anne calling it comforting that no two snowflakes are alike, as well as calling snow a sign of gods forgiveness as he blankets the dead world in a beautiful frost

2. Josie gossiping about her while she’s RIGHT THERE

3. Her and moody just talking

4. “And I love Christmas, don’t you?” “I don’t know, but I plan to.” “Did you not have Christmas at the orphanage?” “There wasn’t much to it really. I’m not sure why Father Christmas wasn’t able to stop there, maybe the matron scared him off.”

5. “Do you at least know if they’re going to keep you?” “Keep me!?”

6. Anne trying to sing with the others but the other voices quickly fading out as she panics and rushes home

7. “They’re not going to send you back, you’re in the Bible and everything!”

8. Marilla has every right to be angry that Matthew rushed their home without even discussing it

9. “I knew you’d lose your head-“ “Oh, I oughta smack yours right off your shoulders!”

10. Matthew is prone to heart attacks, the very same thing causing his death in the books

11. “He’s had an episode of the heart” just a funny way to say heart attack, sort of long winded

12. Marilla not understanding the complex math because she had to leave school when she was young

13. Anne helping her with it because she’s top of her class

14. “Not keeping you? You’re a Cuthbert, for better or for worse! No getting out of it now.”

15. The awful bank not relenting on the payback schedule despite the fact that Matthew cannot work. Corporations are cruel and ungiving despite the human struggles and needs of its clients and it hurts. I know the bank invested that money and they need it back but Matthew was indisposed by a tragic event and to not only not extent but to SHORTEN the payback schedule is just unfeeling

16. Marilla putting out an ad to the mainland to take in borders

17. The terrifying idea that you must sell everything you have in order to survive

18. Marilla being desperate yet still too prideful to accept charity

19. The fact that it not only effects the family but also Jerry, as they can’t afford to pay him. It puts him out of a job and lowers his families income

20. A reoccurring theme I love in this show is the idea that the characters will give up their belongings, no matter how sentimental, in the name of family. Matthew selling his dead brothers watch, Marilla selling her grandmothers brooch, Anne selling the dress of her dreams, all because no matter how important these items are, they are just things. That family is more important, so even though it pains you to have to give those things up, you do it in the name of love for others

21. “Theyre just things.”

22. Anne feeling sorrow and yet being excited to stay at aunt Josephine’s

23. Despite being told she can keep the dress, Anne insists on selling it back because it’s a family effort

24. Anne being exited for a solo adventure and then getting stuck with jerry

25. Jerry has to be there to get money Anne his family is hungry :(

26. “I don’t actually need your help.” “When’s the last time you drove a sleigh? Auctioned a horse? Let’s go.”

27. Diana giving her things to sell as well

28. Jerry knows how to drive a sleigh?????

29. “It’s not so bad to ask for help sometimes, y’know?” “If I needed help I would say so.” “No you wouldn’t.” “Yes, I would.” “Wouldn’t.” “Would! Times infinity.” “What???”

30. Jerry singing in French

31. “No singing. I mean it. I’m serious, Jerry! This is an important journey! I WILL KILL YOU WITH MY BEAR HANDS!”

32. Jerry grinning as she gets madder

33. Anne bring mystified by the dress shop

34. “I’m here to return a dress.” Is something wrong with it?” “Not a thing.” “Do you not like it?” “It is my very favorite thing that I have ever possessed in life. But I need to return it to help my family.” “You’re Anne, Matthew’s Anne!” “I am! How nice it is to hear it said that way.”

35. Anne being upbeat until Jeannie asks what’s wrong and then ask just breaks down

36. Poor Jerry waiting outside in the snow for her

37. Either Matthew spent some much money on Anne’s dress or Jeannie gave her extra, or both

38. “Did Matthew really spend this much?..” “You’re worth a lot to him.”

39. “I hate to say goodbye…” “😏 I won’t be so long~” “To the HORSE, Jerry. Why are you so annoying.”

40. “You’re a good horse Birdie, try to remember that. Someone will be very lucky to have you.”

41. Birdie really is a beautiful horse though

42. Anne’s little “my parents are spies” act she uses on the pawn broker

43. The pawn broker is so understandable rude because of his profession, it makes him equally annoying and funny

44. “What a piece of work you are.”

45. Anne is so good at making up stories on the spot

46. “If you can’t afford it I completely understand.”

47. I love how snide remarks of “being a good Christian” are frequent and effective insults in the 1800’s

48. Poor Jerry doesn’t just get beaten up and robbed, he gets brutally beaten by two grown men and there’s nothing he can do despite that being… his last paycheck. That was the last income he was going to give his family and he’s so ashamed of himself that he keeps apologizing for it despite most of the money being his. He apologizes to Anne, to Matthew, it bothers him for months to come

49. Gilbert’s back!!

50. “Still seems unreal. Even though I just sold all our… everything.”

51. “He’s a good man.” “I love him with all my heart. I don’t know what if do if…”

52. Them arguing over not arguing

53. Anne apologizing

54. “Anyway…” “Anyway..”

55. I genuinely didn’t realize that the men who beat up Jerry are the same men that took in borders at green gables, I got the same face blindness as Jerry himself

56. “I’ve missed you.” “Yeah?” “At school, theres.. no one to compete with.” “”You want to spell out a few words for old times sake?” “How about… truce?”

57. Jerry thinking Gilbert was going to hurt Anne and take her money and immediately jumping in to stop him despite swaying on his feet

58. When Anne asks him if he’s okay he immediately starts apologizing about the money

59. “I don’t like the city.”

60. “Just take care of yourself, and come home someday.”

61. Anne and Gilbert staring at each other quietly

62. “This is a palace, not a house.”

63. Jerry assuming that they’ll make him sleep in the stable instead of inside the massive house

64. “I’ll look after belle.”

65. “This city is rife with ruffians!”

66. Aunt Josephine insisting on helping

67. Matthew lamenting his own life, talking of how his life insurance will give them a sizable sum and how he drags them down despite them needing him

68. “Anne loves you, you have to remember that.” “But her future…” “Which do you think she would choose, this house or you?”

69. Jerry bring terrified to stay in a room by himself because he’s always had his family around him

70. Anne making room for him only for him to sleep upside down

71. “Don’t worry, I don’t kick like my sisters.” “Yeah, you’d better not.”

72. “Everything will be alright. It’ll be alright..”

73. Aunt Josephine helping by paying for Jerry to work at Green Gables, as well as giving Anne books

74. “We’ve been together all these years, thick or thin, so don’t think I’ll put up with you slipping away now. Anne will be home today, and she’ll be very happy to see you.”

75. Matthew trying to kill himself because the life insurance would pay off the debt he caused

76. Jeannie happening to show up and find Matthew with the gun just in time as he tries to hide what he’s almost done from her, realizing what he’s done

77. The way they stress how his passing would effect Anne the most because of what they mean to each other, that she will suffer without him despite what he’s trying to do

78. “Don’t ever get old…” “Too late for that.”

79. “You would’ve left us that way!? Left me?..”

80. “Give it back. I won’t take charity.” “But.. love isn’t charity.” “I won’t take it.” “Nay I ask why not?” “We will not be pitied! I don’t want people thinking we can’t fend for ourselves.” “Well at the moment we can’t, and I’d sure give my last bit of strength or my last dollar to help a friend. Then I know that friend would feel grateful and loved above all else. And I do. I feel very grateful to have such a dear friend as Miss Barry. Sometimes you just have to let people love you Marilla.”

81. Anne selling her cleaning services to make steady income

82. “We’re rich, aren’t we Matthew?”

83. Jerry carving a star for the Christmas tree!!!!!!

84. Anne’s friends coming to sing carols at their house

85. Anne helping Matthew walk outside

86. Not Nate :(

87. Nathaniel, the bane of my existence

[fallinwitstyle]

In Your Arms

characters/pairings: Loki / Mobius

rating: general

word count: 4821

summary: Loki and Mobius find one another again in the apolycptic New York and while on the run, share a moment.

Notes: I am such shipper trash and in no way do I think this will happen, ever, but I needed to write some fluff for these two. Hope you enjoy.

Read on A03

They had been running for who knows how long. 

Loki didn't tire as fast as mortals and truly he could have kept running, his determination to escape this hellscape fierce but he was accompanied by a human.

A human man who, by all means, had done very well for himself in keeping up with Loki for as long as he could.

But eventually Mobius was starting to run on empty, his pace slowed and his breathing was far too heavy. 

When Loki looked back at him, his cheeks were red from exertion, and sweat beaded on his forehead. 

He had long since shed his TVA jacket and tie, undid a few buttons of his shirt and rolled up his sleeves.. 

"Loki," he gasped for air and Loki, despite where they were and the situation they were in, still got a little thrill that Mobius was alive and was able to say his name. 

"Loki….hold..." Mobius breathed again and slowly came to a stop and leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees.

"Are you alright?" Loki stopped, briefly surveying their surroundings for any signs of danger but quickly turned his attention to his friend. 

He was consistently amazed by how much he actually cared for this man. He could count on one hand how many people he genuinely cared for and all of them, save for Mobius, were gods. 

He had only ever seen human beings as inferior creatures who needed to kneel before him but right from the start Mobius had been different. He never seemed afraid of Loki, he was never intimated, and in fact was almost amused, intrigued and as time drew on, seemed to have some kind of affection for him. 

Mobius panted for a few seconds and Loki watched, his brow furrowed in concern. 

"I just…" he gasped between breaths, and waved a hand. "I need a minute."

Loki frowned and glanced around him. It was getting darker and the other Lokis had warned him of the dangers that lurked in that land. 

They had no protection other than Loki's magic, which could sufficiently protect them but, and he'd be loath to admit out loud, he still felt a little uneasy.

He took a few steps toward Mobius and put a hand on his shoulder and then once more looked around them. 

"Perhaps we should stop here for the evening." Loki suggested, spotting a bit of shelter that would sufficiently keep them safe, at least for the night.

He glanced back at Mobius when the man weakly grabbed onto his forearm. 

His face was pale, despite the pink in his cheeks and his eyes were slightly glazed over. 

"You look like death, Mobius."

Mobius scoffed breathlessly, his lips twitching very slightly at the corners. "Oh thank you."

He wobbled on his feet and Loki tightened his hold on him.

Once Mobius caught his breath, he shook his head, looking up at Loki. "We should keep going."

Loki pressed his lips together and scrunched his nose. "If we do, it leaves me with two options: carrying your dead body or leaving you here. Frankly, neither are attractive options for me."

Mobius blinked up at him and then gave a slight roll of his eyes. "I am not going to die, Loki. I'm a little offended that you don't think I can handle myself."

"I believe you can handle yourself just fine under normal circumstances. However, your body is still recovered from being pruned and we've been on the move for hours. You're only a mortal, you don't have the stamina…"

"Oh spare me the superior god speech…" Mobius breathed out and Loki raised an eyebrow at him. 

"It is the truth."

Mobius continued to glare at him in annoyance and then sighed. 

"If it will make you feel better, then we'll stop."

Mobius came off like he was doing Loki a favor but Loki could see the relief in his face, and felt the way his body relaxed, even slumping forward a little.

"Oh yes, for my sake then." Loki remarked sarcastically and Mobius nodded his head weakly. 

Loki swore the human could sometimes be as stubborn and hard headed as he was, which Loki admittedly admired and the smallest hint of an affectionate smile pulled at his lips, just out of sight of Mobius' gaze as he attempted to straighten himself up and turn.

Loki watched, his brow raised as Mobius began to stagger around aimlessly.

Finally, Loki cleared his throat. "Mobius?"

"Yeah?" Mobius paused and looked back at him and Loki pointed over his shoulder. 

"Shelter's this way."

Mobius grumbled something under his breath and turned on his heel and shuffled back towards Loki. 

The only truly safe space, that wasn't entirely covered by rubble and who knows what else, was a small room just barely big enough for the two of them. 

Mobius immediately took to one wall and let out a groan, his eyes closing, a grimace covering his face as he lowered himself to the ground.

Loki looked around but then decided to take a seat beside him.

Mobius opened his eyes and blinked blearily to Loki. 

"Any more cracks about  human fragility?"

Loki smirked. "Oh I have many. None that I'll say now. For another time perhaps."

Mobius let out a little scoff of a laugh and then leaned forward with a small groan and a large sigh. 

Loki's brow furrowed and he felt an odd pang deep within. Something he was learning was concern. That deep, visceral pain that cut into him. Of course the grief of watching Mobius be vaporized before his eyes thinking he was dead was much worse in comparison but he did care for his health as well. 

Mobius swallowed hard, closed his eyes and tilted his head back to lean against the hard wall. 

"I think perhaps you were right." Mobius muttered softly. 

"Of course.” Loki remarked quickly. “About what?"

Mobius' lips twitched slightly but he didn't open his eyes. "I need to rest. I need to…" he trailed off.

"Rest." Loki surprised himself again with how gentle the command was. "I'll watch over us."

Mobius let out a small hum, but that was the only energy he had left to acknowledge.

Loki kept a watchful eye on him until it seemed he fell asleep. 

Then he let out a small sigh, straightened out his legs and looked out of the small crack in the wall that was letting in what bit of light there was. 

His thoughts drifted - to how they had ended up here, to what the existence of all the other variant Loki's meant, which of course then brought his thoughts to Sylvie.

It wasn't too long ago at all that he was trapped in another apocalypse with her as his companion. 

It somehow seemed fitting he'd end up on some doomed distant moon with another variant of himself and yet somehow wind up on Earth, in New York of all places, with the human responsible for taking him to the TVA in the first place.

Sylvie kept up with him on Lementis. In fact she was very much his equal, perhaps even his superior in some ways. 

She was astounding to him and he wouldn't have minded spending more time with her. 

Having Mobius as a companion was entirely different and by all accounts he should have been annoyed that he had to slow down and take into account a human's shortcomings.

But he wasn't. No, he was entirely too grateful to have Mobius alive to be annoyed with his presence. 

He was extremely irritated, angry even at the TVA and the situation they had put them in but Mobius was just as much of a victim. 

His heart ached at the way Mobius talked about his life before the TVA and how he couldn't remember it. 

Loki vowed to somehow, someway get Mobius to remember. Whether that was somehow finding Sylvie and having her access his memories or learning to do so himself.

He deserved to know the truth. 

Loki suddenly startled when he felt a sudden, solid warmth pressed against his side. 

He turned his head to find that Mobius had leaned in toward him, his head landing on Loki's shoulder, his arm pressing against his. 

Loki stared at the top of his head and his lips parted in slight awe. 

He recalled the brief conversation with Sylvie and how he couldn't let himself fall asleep in her presence because he didn't trust her. 

He knew he had fallen asleep with Mobius before but he was truly stunned that Mobius trusted him enough to not only fall asleep in his presence but seek him out for comfort.

It was a new and thrilling emotion, to have someone so comfortable around him and to be so comfortable around someone else

He had been beginning to feel that way with Sylvie as well but Sylvie was not like Mobius. 

Sylvie was like him and he admired her strength, her determination, her cunning, and wit. She seemed to be the very best parts of him.

Mobius was different- he was human, he was kind, he was good, almost irritatingly so but it was also admirable to Loki and he felt himself drawn to Mobius in a way he had never experienced before. 

He hated the look of disappointment on Mobius' face when he chose to follow Sylvie through the time portal. He hated the anger and betrayal and hurt that Mobius tried to hide when he accused Loki of working with Sylvie...of being in love with Sylvie. 

A ridiculous notion. Loki scoffed to himself and he was loath to admit how much Mobius words to him had stung. Of course he cared for Sylvie. If he knew what love was he might even admit to loving her but not in that way. In the same way he loved his mother. Another being on the same level as him who understood him in a way that no one else could. That was Sylvie.

Sylvie was connected to him, a part of him and he didn't want to let her go but he knew what he felt for her was anything but romantic or even lust, though she was incredibly beautiful, but that was to be expected, as she was, of course, a Loki. 

No, what he felt for Sylvie was nothing like lust and nothing like the warm, soft feeling deep in his belly when he looked down at the man sleeping peacefully on top of him. 

He took a shuddering breath and cleared away those thoughts before he allowed his mind to go there. Those thoughts were frightening and just a little too much to deal with. 

He'd much rather just enjoy this rare moment of peace and comfort beside a man who seemed just as content to be with him. 

He knew he promised Mobius he would keep watch but as the hours drew on, and he reveled in the warmth of the body beside him, he slowly found himself drifting. 

He used just a little bit of magic to shield their little shelter and then closed his eyes, his head leaning to the side until his cheek was pressed lightly against Mobius' soft hair. 

He inhaled slowly, taking in the scent of smoke and sweat and the faintest hint of the most bland shampoo in the universe. 

He tensed only for a moment as Mobius shifted against him but he only moved closer, his hand lightly falling against Loki's thigh. 

A small smile tugged at the corners of Loki's lips and he allowed himself to get lost in the moment, even if it was just going to be just this once. He clung onto it and sank into it, the feeling of Mobiua warm beneath him and slowly drifted off to sleep. 

--

Mobius felt like he was hit by a train. 

He had had particularly arduous missions that left him tired, chasing Variants through time but nothing like this. 

His mouth and throat was so dry that it hurt to swallow.

His whole entire body ached down to his bones and he felt completely drained. 

His head pounded as if there were a thousand hammers trying to knock out his skull.

He now regretted ever having anyone pruned, not only because of what the TVA was, how they had stolen his life, but because it was not an experience he would wish on anyone. 

Yet despite all of this pain, he felt strangely comforted.

His eyes seemed glued shut so he dare not try to open them yet.

As his mind woke up he began to feel his surroundings, it was hot and humid, and there was a tinge of smoke in the air. 

He could feel that he was lying against something solid, yet soft and warm and there was a comforting pressure against his head. 

Loki. He suddenly realized and his chest tightened. 

He finally managed to crack open his eyes and blinked past the initial blurry vision. 

His eyes scanned the area, dimly lit by that smoky haze. 

He vaguely remembered stopping there for the night, but he had been so far past the point of exhaustion that everything was a blur. 

He cast his gaze downward and his heart leapt when he found his hand rested on Loki's thigh and what's more, Loki's hand lightly covered his own. 

He realized then that while he had fallen asleep against Loki, Loki had also fallen asleep against him. 

He was beginning to feel the ache in his neck and back from his position but he didn't want to move. He knew as soon as he did Loki would also wake up and he wanted to marvel in this moment for a little while. 

Loki - the God of mischief. The variant he took control over, the narcissistic, infuriating being who tested his patience at every turn.

Loki had fallen asleep in front of him before, a few times in those early days when they were scouring through files, searching for the other Loki variant. 

However, Loki had never fallen asleep beside him, holding him even. Protecting him, just as he said he would.

Loki's promise had suddenly come to him and his chest tightened again. 

He'd never forget Loki's cry as he was pruned, never forget the look of awe and relief on his face when he saw him again, the smile that lit his face. 

Whatever transgressions Loki had committed against him, the betrayal of leaving him to chase after the Variant - Sylvie - were all forgiven. 

The last thing Loki had said to him before they were confronted by the TVA was the promise of friendship and this time, perhaps despite his best instincts, he believed him.

And so far, Loki hadn't done anything to lose his trust. He stuck by his side, made certain he was alright and watched over him, all the with the air of genuine concern.

Loki easily could have made his escape. Left him behind without a second thought but he didn't. He sat down beside him and went to sleep, holding onto his hand like he wanted to do the very opposite of run away - as if he was holding onto Mobius with all he had. 

The thought warmed something inside of him - sparked the ever growing flame of fondness he was gaining for this Loki. 

Someone good. 

He knew he could have stayed there for hours, his head rested comfortably on Loki's chest. 

That is where he was, he realized, when he became aware of the soft thumping of Loki's heart beneath his ear. 

He couldn't remember the last time he had been this close to another being. Certainly never at the TVA and before that…

His stomach twisted at the harsh reminder that he knew nothing of his life before the TVA. His only memory was that of a jetski and it only came in his fascination with them. He didn't know if he had ever ridden one. 

Finally the ache in his neck became too painful to stay where he was and he slowly lifted his head. 

Just as he suspected, Loki's head shot up, his body tensing as he leapt to the defensive. 

"It's only me." Mobius croaked and winced at his scratchy and sore throat. 

Loki turned his gaze downward to him and instantly relaxed.

Mobius was still aware that their hands were still together on Loki's lap but he couldn't keep his eyes off of Loki's face. 

His eyes were tired which put just a touch of humanity in him but he was most certainly a god and most certainly looked like one. 

Mobius took in a breath and finally broke their gaze and slid his hand away into his own lap. 

Loki's brow pressed together, his lips pursing as he looked down at his own lap. His fingers stretched where Mobius hand had been under his and then he clenched them in a slight fist. 

He forced a tight, small smile to his lips and looked back at Mobius.

"You stayed." Mobius said quietly, looking back up at Loki and his breath caught again at the look in his eyes. 

His gaze had softened, a rare look on Loki but one he had been seeing more and more often, particularly directed at him. 

"Of course." Loki answered like it was the most obvious thing in the world, like he hadn't been known for consistently stabbing people, Mobius included, in the back. 

There was a smirk on Loki's lips but he said with utter sincerity, "I'm not going to abandon you."

Mobius mouth went impossibly dryer and he couldn't speak, just stared at this marvelous being in wonder. 

"Not when you cannot fend for yourself." Loki continued and Mobius released a breath. 

"You still look utterly horrible."

Mobous clenched his jaw and attempted a swallow but his throat was like sandpaper and he only winced and Loki frowned. 

His hand lifted and hovered in the air, almost looking like he was going to reach out to grab Mobius but then his hand fell back to his lap with a small sigh. 

"I'm fine." Mobius insisted, his voice barely recognizable to his own ears and he knew that he wasn’t. His whole body felt like it could combust any moment if he moved.

Yet still he tried. He attempted to push himself up but his head spun and his legs shook and he fell back down. 

Loki's hand did move that time, pressing a steady hand to his back which then slid around his middle to rest on his side.

Mobius closed his eyes tightly, holding his breath while the world spun around him and his stomach churned. 

"I very much doubt that." Loki commented but he could hear the concern in his voice. 

"What do you need?" Loki's voice was quiet at his ear and though he dare not open his eyes to look at his companion, Loki's presence was comforting. 

"Water." He rasped and rested his head between his knees as waves of nausea rolled over him.

"Right." Loki muttered and then his hand was gone from Mobius. He sat in silence, concentrating on his breathing and trying not to throw up, vaguely wondering where Loki was going to find water.

He jumped, letting out a painful screech as suddenly ice cold water poured over him like the heavens had opened up in a personal rain cloud above him.

His head shot up and he ignored the splitting headache and glared in disbelief at Loki. 

The god was standing beside him impishly, his hands hovering in the air where he had conjured the water. 

"To drink, Loki." Mobius hissed at him as the water trickled down his back.

Loki raised his brow. "But do you not feel better?"

Mobius opened his mouth to yell at him but instead took a few seconds to take in what he was feeling. The cold water not only cooled his body but shocked his system back to somewhat functional. His head was still pounding but he no longer felt nauseous and could focus on something other than his pain. 

He huffed, pressing his lips together and ran a hand over his face, pulling the water down from his hair and towards his chest. 

"A little warning would have been nice." He grunted. 

Loki merely shrugged but then waved his hands again and in them appeared a small container of water. 

He extended it toward him and Mobius eyed it suspiciously. 

Loki rolled his eyes at his hesitance. "I'm not going to poison you Mobius. If I wanted you dead there are a million other ways I'd do it."

Mobius lifted his eyebrows at that.

"I won't." Loki quickly added. "But I could."

"I don't believe you would intentionally poison me." Mobius said and the surprised look of what might almost be joy in Loki's eyes made his heart soar. "But in case you haven't noticed, we're in an apocalyptic wasteland. I don't think anything is safe to consume here."

Loki gave him a small smile and extended hisnhand further. "Trust me."

Mobius' got a taste of the water that dripped off his nose onto his bottom lip and was too parched to think about it further. There were worse ways to die he supposed.

He eagerly grabbed it from Loki and at first took a cautious sip but once the cool water hit his throat, he guzzled the rest of it down.

"Thank you." 

He looked back up at Loki and Loki's hand was still outstretched, now palm up for him to take. 

He placed his hand into Loki's and Loki helped him up. He got a brief flash of memory of their first day at the TVA and how Mobius had done the same for him. Their eyes met and Mobius could tell he was remembering the same moment. 

"Like I said…" Loki started, his eyes never leaving his. "I don't feel like carrying around your dead body."

Mobius lifted his brow, a slight smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Is that the only reason?"

There was a flash of something in Loki's eyes that made his stomach flip. Then Loki blinked and his smirk returned to his lips. 

"Should there be another reason?"

Mobius shook his head slightly, pulling his hand out of Loki's and moving it to his hair. He quickly rubbed the water out of it and got a little burst of amusement at the droplets of water that sprayed across Loki's face. 

Loki shot him a faintly annoyed look, a few drops of water rolling down his cheeks.

Mobius chuckled lightly and taking a quick, deep breath, then moved to swiftly wipe then away with his knuckles.

Loki reared back in surprise at the sudden contact and Mobius swore he could have heard his breath catch and stutter. His eyes widened slightly and his eyes followed Mobius' hands as he then patted Loki's chest. 

"Well, friends do typically care for each other's needs."

Loki visibly swallowed and his eyes drifted back to Mobius’ and his gaze softened once more and Mobius felt his heart ache just a little.

Loki always seemed so surprised by gentle, intimate, genuine touches and words and Mobius made it his goal to make sure he did those things more often around Loki. Especially if it earned him the look Loki was giving him now. 

"Yes." Loki murmured slowly, as if he was just realizing this fact.

He realized then that his hands were still resting on Loki's chest. He gave Loki another small knowing smile and then began to pull away but Loki's hands quickly shot up and brought them back. 

Mobius blinked at him, his eyes widening slightly and Loki stared back at him, just as wide-eyed. 

"Mobius….I…" he choked over his words, his mouth hanging slightly open and Mobius smiled at him. 

"I understand Loki. You don't have to say anything."

Loki's brow pressed together and he shook his head. "But I do because I've...I've never had anyone to ever say anything to and now that I do…" he trailed off again and something warm flourished inside Mobius chest as he stared at the god in anticipation.

Loki's face scrunched in slight frustration and he tilted his head up as he searched for the right words. 

Feeling just a little bit daring, Mobius lifted one hand to Loki's cheek and pulled his attention back to him. Their eyes locked and Mobius gave him an encouraging nod. 

Loki was silent for another few seconds, his eyes exploring his. 

"Whatever you need to tell me, Loki, I'm listening."

Loki opened his mouth, taking a breath and then closed it again. His eyes quickly darted back and forth as he clearly argued with himself about something and then he quickly grabbed a hold of Mobius' shoulders. 

Mobius brow shot up and he opened his mouth to question Loki when he was suddenly silenced by Loki's mouth upon his. 

He froze in pure shock but then quickly felt himself melting into the kiss. 

He wouldn't deny that it had crossed his mind once or twice what it would be like but all of his fantasies paled in comparison to the feel of the pressure of his lips, the burning of his hands against his shoulders, the heat that grew within.

It was over just as nearly as it had begun and Mobius was left wobbling on his already weakened legs. His mouth still hung open as he blinked up at Loki. 

His eyes were alive with a spark of desire, and awe and surprise of his own actions. His intense eyes burned into him and he was breathless as he stared back. 

"You are perhaps one of the most irritating and stubborn humans I've ever met." Loki said and mobius blinked a few times, trying to connect his actions with the words. 

"Extremely complimentary Loki…" he breathed.

"I'm not finished." Loki cut him off and Mobius shut his mouth, staring at him silently. 

"I have never encountered a man like you before. You never give up - even on someone like me."

Mobius pressed his lips together in a slight smile. "You're worth it." He said quietly and Loki's eyes widened and he took a breath. 

"You are the only one to ever think so." His voice broke a little as he spoke and Mobius' thumb brushed across his cheek and Loki shuddered beneath the intimate gesture. 

He took a steadying breath and grabbed Mobius’ hand in his. 

"I've never cared about anyone, not really, but somehow you...you...you and all your ridiculous human quirks…." He shook his head and lifted his head. "I find myself caring more than I ever thought I could and it's...very unusual."

"It's good, Loki.” Mobius countered. “Embrace it. You don't have to hide your feelings with me. I promise, no matter what, you are safe with me."

Loki stared at him in awe, searching his eyes for any sign of deception but he'd find none and his eyes began to glisten. 

"You know…" Loki spoke finally, his voice slightly raspy. "I rather think I like you."

Mobius laughed quietly and glanced down wrinkles and then back up at him. "I rather think I like you too. For everything you are, Loki."

Something flashed in Loki's eyes again and he leaned forward toward him when a large explosion suddenly shook the small, faulty shelter they were standing in. 

They fell into one another, Mobius pressing himself against Loki's chest while one of Loki's arms surrounded his back and the other slid to the back of his head securing him to him. 

They closed their eyes as rubble fell around them and Loki created a bubble of protection around them. 

"I think we'd better keep moving." Loki said, once they opened their eyes and found themselves standing in a pile of rubble, now exposed to the smoky open air. 

Mobius frowned as he looked around them, suddenly reminded of where they were and how much danger they were in. 

A brand new cloud of smoke was billowing in the distance, rising from the explosion caused by who knows what. 

"I think you're right."

Loki turned to him, a serious look in his eyes. "I will get us out of here, Moby. Whatever it takes."

Mobius' heart flipped at the nickname. Loki certainly wasn't the first one to use it but it held something special coming from him. 

Mobius nodded hisbhead and lowered his hand, grasping Loki's in his tightly. "I'll be right by your side through it all."

Loki's eyes flashed, a mischievous glint that Mobius had seen countless times but it was accompanied by a certain fondness that was absent before and then he smirked, tugged at his hand and they were off again, prepared to face anything together. 

[bakugoulovesme]

Bakugou x Reader

Title: Long Story Short

Characters: Bakugou Katsuki, various pro heroes (mentioned), original character (who is not the reader)

Word Count: 2,783

Warnings: mentions of toxic ex, passing out, hospital visits (dw it’s all good), gross fluff 

Summary:  You had a terrible breakup that made you stop hero work. Now, three years later, you are dating Bakugou Katsuki and you jump back in the saddle.

A/N: Pro hero au! Lmao guys be nice I haven’t written a full fic since 2018.. oof... request headcanons pleeeaaaseee <3 (OOOH OOOH also this is the first of a very tentative series of stories based on Taylor Swift’s albums Evermore and Folklore,, AND this was crossposted on ao3) 

You told yourself never again on a night much like this one, three years ago. You remember it all very distinctly. Nyx had already promised you a change of pace, somewhere as far away from him as you could get. They were standing behind you on the rooftop, a good few paces back. It was considerate, really: giving you space so that you could have your moment of dramatic catharsis. You remember bouncing on your toes once before sparring a glance over your shoulder at them. The blank motorcycle helmet that was a staple of their hero costume stared back at you, emotionless. They offered you a single nod. You turned forward again, facing the wind. You turned the ring over and over in your hand for a few more minutes, longer than you wanted to. It seemed cliché to you even then, when the wound was still so fresh, to get rid of the ring in such an over the top way. But damn, if it didn’t feel absolutely amazing. 

And tonight you are standing atop the roof of that twenty-story building again. And Nyx, lovely Nyx, is standing behind you with their expressionless motorcycle helmet boring into your soul and their harrowing silent wisdom making the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. “I’m not so sure that I’m ready,” you say after a beat. Your hero costume feels strikingly familiar and foreign all that at the same time. You play with the waistband of the jumpsuit absentmindedly. 

“I am,” they say as if it is the easiest thing in the world. Don’t they know how hard this is? Shouldn’t they of all people understand?  “And he is, too.” 

They got you. They always do. 

You heave a sigh—no turning back now. You take a deep breath and remind yourself that you can do this, that you are in fact a capable hero. Three years. You haven’t done this in three years. 

Fuck. Can you do this? What if… 

“I know what you're thinking,” Nyx says, allowing emotion to seep into their tone for the first time tonight. “And, I hate to break it to you, but… you are already doing it.” 

“This is barely a patrol,” you grumble. 

“Not a traditional one, no, but remember you’re still in your trial period. You are technically only my sidekick right now.” You don’t need to see the expression Nyx is wearing to be certain that they are smiling. 

“Ugh, don’t remind me.” 

The universe does not leave you much time to wallow in self-pity. Less than half an hour later, there’s a call. A building is collapsing. The number four hero, Edgeshot, has already taken care of the villain responsible, so it is time for clean-up duty: your specialty. All in a matter of thirty seconds, you shove your helmet onto your head (it matches the one Nyx sports; all of their sidekicks wear them) and run to grab onto Nyx as they teleport you to the scene. Gone is the gentle night air; here, everything is hot. The villain must be using some quirk-enhancing drug. (The damage they caused in their dragon form puts Ryukyu to shame.) Several voices chatter into your ears at once filling you and Nyx in. Nyx was gone the second they dropped you off, working as fast as they could to teleport people out of the upper floors of the building. 

Adrenaline pushes you forward but you are stopped quickly, debris already blocking your path into the ground level of the building. Luck must be on your side tonight because you can see the number two hero, Hawks, fly in as he uses his feathers to aid in the evacuation. You feel comfortable enough to ask Nyx through the helmet to get you inside. And they do. You could not imagine how disorienting it must be for them because, after just your second leap of the night, you are incapacitated for at least fifteen seconds. 

When the world rights itself again, you realize you have already put your shield up to protect yourself from the smoke. It does not take long to find the group of survivors to the left of you, trying—and failing—to break out of a crumbled window. You see eighteen at first glance, but as you approach, you can see a group of children, four of them all huddled together. Twenty-two, then. You drop your shield as you approach them. “Help is here,” you inform them, attempting to keep your sentences short so your helmet will translate them faster. 

“Now, everyone remain calm. Everything will be okay.” Any doubts you had earlier have been seared away. You are met with thankful sobs and incoherent clambering. You direct them to stand around you, as close as they can fit. The children are lifted into their parent’s arms as everyone scrambles forward. As soon as all twenty-two are comfortably within range, you activate your quirk again. One of the children lets out an awed gasp at the buzzing bubble of blue energy that has formed. 

You find yourself smiling. 

“What do we do now?” An older woman asks incredulously, her entire body shaking in fear. 

“We wait.” She opens her mouth to retort, but you continue. “Once the upper floors of the building and the surrounding block are completely evacuated, I will get us out of here.” 

“Are you sure you can do it, Miss Hero?” A little girl asks. “My Daddy says heroes can’t really do anything...”

Her father has the decency to look horrified, but you just laugh. You crouch down to make eye contact with her,  “I’m very sure I can do it. Do you wanna know why?”

She leans away from her father slightly, turning towards you with her eyes full of stars. It takes you a second to reply as you get the go-ahead that everything is clear. Perfect. 

“Because… you are going to help me, of course!” You exclaim, removing your helmet. This forces you to use the translator that you wear around your neck which is not as loud (or clear), but you think it’s a good trade-off. The adults (and the other children)  who were momentarily distracted hearing you speak to the little girl will need the comfort of a human face for the next part, this much you are sure. You gesture for the girl to be put down and you take her hand in one of your glowing ones. A little boy wriggles out of his mother’s grasp and grabs your other hand. You beam. 

“Now you two have a very important job: you have to keep everyone brave!”

“How we s’posed to do dat?” The boy asks. 

“Simple. You will walk with me in the front, okay? We can even sing a little song so everyone knows to keep walking,” you explain with a smile, more genuinely happy than is probably appropriate. The other children wrestle themselves out of their parent’s arms and grab their hands fiercely, ready to help drag them along. The pair holding your hands only take a minute to consider before nodding solemnly. 

The boy leads the little marching tune as you calmly begin leading everyone towards the front of the building. It’s at the moment that your shield touches the front wall that the building comes down. Hard. 

So much for raining small chunks, the full weight of the building crashes down around you. It makes you lightheaded, but you force yourself not to show any distress. You just keep walking, hunks of the building being forced out around the bubble. Suddenly though, something smacks into your shield from the inside and you lurch forward. Your eyes screw shut as you focus completely on regaining control. 

“Daddy!” The little girl yells as she pushes past the group to reach her father, still frozen in shock against the farthest side of the bubble. You didn’t even feel her drop your hand... Before you can contemplate the fate of your other small charge. The boy squeezes your hand tight. You turn to look at him and smile. One hand grips yours and the other grips a younger girl, his sister you presume, who is latched onto their mother, as well. 

You are more out of it than you realize because in no time at all, the girl is back holding your hand, dragging her father behind her. He looks sickly pale. Deep breath. “Everything’s okay. Almost over. Everyone please just keep being brave for me,” you say, squeezing the kids’ hands. 

You close your eyes again and put everything you have into walking normally. Pushing. Pushing. It feels like you let the smoke in; there doesn’t seem to be enough air for you. You can’t remember feeling this tired, at least not in a long time. Just as you reach your limit—when you are certain you are going to fail to leave all these people to get tragically smushed—there is loud cheering. Huh?

You force your eyes open. Floodlights. People. Ambulances. Reporters descending upon the lot of you, now that the danger has passed. You can finally breathe. You drop the shield and fall to your knees. 

Hmm. The ground is warm, and a lot more comfortable than you could have ever imagined. Your last thought before you blackout completely is a barely coherent image of cats rolling around on the warm concrete. 

-

All you can hear is his voice. 

For a second, the sound tricks you. You must be in your bed, at home. The heart monitor comes in second. A wave of nausea hits you as the disorientation sets in. You try to open your eyes but decide against it immediately. You don’t think your eyelids so much as fluttered, how could they when they weigh a thousand pounds each? 

His voice is what grounds you again, makes you feel more centered. You think you might even be able to tell which way is up. You can hear him but you can’t hear him. Your brain is much too full of mush at the moment to hear anything with clarity.  Everything feels sloshy; even still you attempt to move your hand towards the sound of his voice. As soon as you begin moving, his hands have met yours and his voice is softer. You still can’t hear him but you can feel him. His hands, as always, are hot and sweaty. You had always thought your hands were the hottest and the sweatiest, that is until you met Bakugou. 

“Ka-” you try to speak but your voice is much too hoarse from disuse. 

“Teddy bear,” you can finally hear him, “are you okay?”

You rumble in agreement and make a great effort to move your head in a gentle nod. He makes you regret agreeing all within a second. Now he is yelling and your eyes are all but forced open at the sound of it. 

“Katsuki,” you groan.

“What the fuck were you thinking running into a collapsing building, dumbass? You’re still just a fucking sidekick.” 

You huff feeling a little more like yourself the longer you hear him talk. “That’s just a technicality.” 

“Regardless, I…” Katsuki lets out a deep growl, “you fucking scared me, teddy bear.” 

“I’m sorry, Katsu” is all you can think to say as he cups your cheek and leans forward to rest his forehead against your own. You revel in the closeness, even the skin of his forehead is hot against you.  

“I hope you know you aren’t off the hook, idiot, but I am really proud of you,” the glare he fixes you with doesn’t match his words. 

You can’t stop yourself from beaming. 

-

“So, how much time before you get back to being that dumbass’s sidekick?” He asks as he spares a glance from the road to look at you leaned up against the window in the passenger's seat. 

“I should be good to go by Monday, believe it or not.” 

The look he gives you tells you he doesn’t. 

“I’ll call the doctor if you want,” you insist. You ignore the rush of nausea that hits you as you sit up and give him an indignant look. 

He rolls his eyes. He takes a hand off the wheel to push you gently back so you’re resting against the window again. You sigh in relief at the feeling of the cool glass on your cheek. You can see him worry his lip a bit before he bites out, “I believe you.” 

“Hmm I don’t know about that,” you start, “but, I meant it when I said me being a sidekick is just a technicality. I was a big hero before I ever came to Japan and met you.” 

He huffs. Regardless, he nods his head in agreement. He does know that you were a big hero. An annoyingly selfless one too, that’s what got you hurt in the first place. He doesn’t say anything more though, he’s happy enough to let you fall asleep with the words to some stupid song on your lips.  Even if he wasn’t driving he would be wide awake. Seeing you fall to the ground like that made him sick.                           

He shudders. He really thought he was ready for you to start hero work again, but… Seeing you like that was a lot to handle. Almost too much. He knows it’s hard for you too. You’ve had to watch him throw himself into danger countless times at this point. He hasn’t figured out how you handle the stress with such grace. He can practically see the look you would give him if he said that to you, he can practically hear your voice assuring him that the way you handle it is anything but graceful. Why is he imagining this conversation? He could be having it with you. It’s not like you’re dead or--                

“Katsu, you’re going to get wrinkles if all you do is frown all the time. You’ll look like my Grampy,” you laugh as his frown deepens, “Really, babe, what’s wrong?”

He replies immediately, “Nothing. We’re almost home.” 

“I know, but don’t think you can escape a conversation about whatever this,” you gesture at him vaguely, “Whatever this is.” 

He growls as he pulls into the parking garage for the apartment building, but he decides not to comment. Instead, he takes the opportunity to tease you and poke at your ribs as he helps you toward the door. 

Walking mixed with the impromptu tickle fight leaves you weaker than you thought you would be. You almost eat shit in the elevator when he lets go of you for just a second to punch the button to your floor. “Fuck, baby, are you okay?” He launched toward you as soon as you wobbled, catching you with his strong arms around your waist securely. 

You groan softly and bury your face in his chest as the elevator starts to move. “I am now,” you say muffled as you nuzzle your face against his pecs. 

“Perv,” he spits out, pushing your face away while still keeping an arm around you to keep you upright. He has to drag you down the hall to your shared apartment because you are so stubborn: refusing to be carried while being virtually unable to walk. He knows that’s a large part of why he loves you so his griping is lighthearted. 

He leads you to the couch and plops you down onto the cushions. “You stay here. I mean it. I’m going to make that dumb recipe your mom told me about,” he says. He turns shuffling off to find his apron. 

Your stomach turns, but this time in a much more pleasant way. He’s so fucking cute sometimes it makes you sick. Warmth settles over you as you pull the burgundy throw blanket over your shoulders and lie your head down on the scratchy decorative pillows. Everything feels a million times more comfortable now that you are comparing it to the impersonal feeling of a hospital bed. 

Well, now everything feels different. Hero work felt different. Talking to Nyx felt different. Waking up in a hospital bed too, didn’t feel as hollow as you remember. You know it’s because of the idiot you can hear maneuvering around the kitchen. He makes everything feel exciting, it’s nothing like before. The apartment is warm, and the couch is a lot more comfortable than you could have ever imagined. As you fall asleep for the first of many sorely needed naps you think of the yearly fireworks your town had as a kid and how alive you felt listening to them. In the other room, Katsuki sparks off a mini-explosion to light the stove.

[anonniemousefics]

Hello! I absolutely adore your writing, especially your writings of kanej! Anyway, I would love to see you write something about jealousy from either kaz or inej, I just think it would be interesting to see your take on it! Obviously you don’t have to, I love your work! You’re a great writer!

❤️ Thank you so much!! This was so sweet to receive, and I’m so sorry it’s taken me so long to get this to you! So, hopefully you’re cool with this, but I decided to apply this idea in a modern AU because I have another request I’m also working on for a modern AU and this felt like an opportunity for some more practice. 😊 (And it just made it more fun for me -- idk, my brain just needed to do something new with these characters to make this work.) 

Samples - Modern AU

Fandom: Six of Crows | Kaz + Inej (ft. all the other Crows)

Word Count: 3,545

Rating: Teen And Up (Language)

“Who did this?”

All of Kaz’s friends were doubling over in laughter around the round hand-me-down table in Kaz and Jesper’s apartment. There were black and white Cards Against Humanity prompts spread across its surface – the most offensive combination of which had Inej, well, and everyone else, in fits.

What made my first kiss so awkward? had been the prompt Inej had drawn.

To which Kaz had submitted the following, randomly-selected card for her consideration – Announcing that I am about to cum. And then kept his poker face locked in place.

“Who did this?” Inej was demanding again, clutching her stomach.

Kaz wasn’t sure why he was hesitating -- something strange was happening while all of this was playing out. Nina had one hand on Inej’s arm while she was fairly screeching with laughter. Inej was slumping against Jesper, like the laugh was shaking her boneless. In fact, everywhere he looked, he was noticing how they were each exchanging these casual, unconscious touches in the midst of their mirth – Matthias turning his face against Nina’s shoulder, Wylan slapping Jesper’s shoulder.

No one was touching Kaz, though – which, that was good, though, right? That was because they were his friends, and they were thoughtful, and they knew all about The Very Sad Thing that had made him the way that he was.

And yet --

Kaz couldn’t find it in himself to laugh. He should be laughing, though, he realized. A normal person would be laughing, given the infectious nature of laughter. And also it was genuinely a really funny card – that’s why he’d played it. But all he could do was force a smile, and that was it.

He suddenly felt like an alien among them.

“Was it you?!” Inej was exclaiming, waving the card at him. Kaz designed what he hoped was a coy smirk for her.

“Are you saying that’s your favorite?” he asked, quirking an eyebrow.

“It was you.” Inej looked appalled, which only made everyone around the table hoot louder. Kaz was still smirking as she threw his winning card back at him with a mischievous, red-faced grin on her face.

“Oh, my God, Brekker.” Nina was wiping the tears off her apple-red cheeks.

“Why does that make it so much worse?” Matthias wondered, since he evidently could never not take a jab at Kaz. He scrubbed his eyes like he needed to wash them out.

And still not a single laugh out of Kaz’s body – this was disturbing. How long had he been this way? And why did he care so much all of a sudden?

“Guys, I’m pretty sure he won,” Wylan was saying, pointing at Kaz’s stack of wins. Had he? Everyone turned to count their cards.

Jesus Christ, he hadn’t even been paying attention to winning? But Kaz loved winning. It was the only reason he tolerated his roommate hosting these raucous game nights – because it meant Kaz could win things. And usually a lot of things. It was especially choice winning things off of Matthias Helvar, Nina’s latest lughead boyfriend she’d met at the gym, who now had to be invited to everything even though he sucked. He was always cuddling close to Nina, putting his arm around her, whispering gross things in her ear that made her giggle insufferably. It was so fucking uncomfortable.

Kaz never acted that way around Inej, and they’d been together for years. Sort of. Not always officially. It really had only been officially lately, but Kaz had always told himself he wasn’t one to need to put labels on things. Inej knewhow he felt – he knew this. (Did he, though?) He definitely knew this. (No, he didn’t.) There was no need to be like Matthias fucking Helvar and canoodle her in front of everyone on game night.

Oh, God. Kaz was suddenly having a realization, right there in the middle of counting his cards.

Oh, God.

He was jealous of Matthias Helvar.

Oh, this sucked.

This really fucking sucked. Kaz thought no one in their right mind should ever be jealous of that big dumb fuck, with his protein shakes and his weirdly popular fitspo Instagram page. The guy looked like he ate nothing but wild-caught salmon and organic broccoli. He wasn’t funny, and he’d say weirdly spiritual shit at socially unacceptable times. He probably spent his weekends doing annoying, on-brand fuckery like being one with nature and brewing his own kombucha, that asshole.

And this was the guy who felt comfortable enough to kiss a girl’s ear in a total stranger’s apartment. (Well, not a total stranger, Kaz would relinquish that – Nina had been dating Matthias for three months.) Matthias Helvar was doing all that nothing with his life, and he wasn’t the least bit self-conscious.

Ugh. Kaz hated that guy. Worse! Kaz wanted to be that guy. Minus the kombucha and the religious stuff. And the gym membership. And probably the protein shakes.

Ok, fine, Kaz was only interested in the PDA. This was so fucking awful.

“What number were we playing to?” he heard himself ask. He wasn’t even paying attention to card counting. He was going to have to start again.

“Can’t count that high, Brekker?” Matthias asked, smirking, and there was always something Kaz took as halfway serious in the way he tried to joke.

“Die in a fire, Helvar,” he said, with a smile that was as good as a middle finger.

“And on that note!” Nina sung out, standing with a hand on Matthias’ shoulder. “It’s almost midnight. I have an eight a.m. class. We gotta call it a night.”

“Matthias drove us,” Inej explained to Kaz’s questioning look at the word “We.”

Inej and Nina were roommates, too, like Kaz and Jesper, but the two girls lived on campus in the dorms at Ketterdam University, where all but Matthias attended. (Fucking Matthias, who was a personal trainer and got money from wellness companies to tout their shit on his Instagram. Ugh.) Wylan, Jesper’s boyfriend, was also living in the dorms this year, after spending his freshmen year commuting from his dad’s enormous house. Wylan had been the one with the car before Kaz had finally scraped together the money for one, but his dad had cut him off over the summer. Kaz didn’t know much about that beyond what little Jesper had told him, which, in summary, was: goodbye, car; hello, dorm life.

“You should have said something – I could have picked you all up,” Kaz said, mostly to Inej, as the others were standing from the table.

Nina reached a tentative hand out to gently touch his shoulder, well-protected by the fabric of his black v-neck.

“Kaz,” she said, gingerly, “we love you, but Matthias has functioning air conditioning.”

Kaz slid his glance toward Inej, who gave a little confirming nod, pressing back her amused smile.

“My thighs don’t stick to the seats in his car,” she explained, softly, which may as well have been a knife to the gut. He loved driving her around in his car. And, to top it off, she was in a pair of really adorable denim cut offs, her legs deeply tan from the summer sun, and he hadn’t even had the nerve to try to touch her exposed knee all night. (Meanwhile, Hands-On Helvar over here had been sitting with his palm all over Nina’s plentiful thighs all night. God, he was so gross. Couldn’t Kaz be just a little bit gross?)

“Are you okay?” Inej was asking. She was stepping a little closer to him away from where everyone else was putting on shoes, preparing to leave. She had her arms wrapped around herself and her loose, purple crop-top, and her long, dark braid was pulled over her shoulder – just mercilessly cute all over. And he hadn’t touched her all night.

“I’m fine,” he replied, but he kept his hands in his jeans pockets. Inej’s dark brows knit together.

“You’d tell me if you weren’t?” she checked. Kaz huffed a laugh – how was he supposed to answer that? Realistically, he should lie.

“Probably not,” he admitted anyway, and gave a shrug. Inej opened her mouth to reply, but Nina called to her from the doorway of the apartment.

“Sorry! Eight a.m. class! She’s going to text you from the car anyway!” Nina was shouting.

“She’s not wrong,” Inej shrugged with a smile. And reached out to barely brush her hand against his spine, like the first attempt at a hug. But Kaz could only bunch up his shoulders, hands stuffed deeper into his pockets. Why was he like this?

There were a few more awkward goodbyes at the doorway, including Matthias’ one-more last-minute sales pitch on the recent CBD-infused green powder drink he was hawking online. (“I’ll bring you some samples next week. They say it’s excellent for chronic pain.” Kaz had flipped him off when his back was turned.)

But then, once they’d all gone and the apartment was quiet, Kaz felt like he was rolling in regret.

“You doing ok?” Jesper asked him, gathering up the empty Solo cups for the trash. Jesper was a really good roommate. They’d been randomly assigned the same dorm room at the beginning of freshmen year, and it just worked. Jesper’s high energy plus Kaz’s insomnia were meant to be. They liked all the same things: strong coffee, getting paid dirty money to write other people’s papers for them, and occasionally clearing the mind by playing Call of Duty all night. They’d moved off campus the following year (a better move for the plagiarism operation), never even really having a conversation about whether or not to room with someone else. It was not even a question, and who else would Kaz even want to room with?

“You’ve seemed off all night,” Jesper was pointing out, and if Kaz had half a brain, he knew he should have been asking Jesper for advice about PDA long before it had reached envying-Matthias-Helvar-levels. Jesper and Wylan were normal in public. When they held hands or hugged or traded kisses, it wasn’t some fucking scene.

But how was he even supposed to bring this up to Jesper?

“Helvar’s such a dillweed,” was all he could find to complain. Jesper snorted.

“He is not that bad,” he said, dumping a stack of Solo cups into the trash.

“He’s the literal worst,” Kaz objected. “I can’t believe he unironically called himself an influencer.” And at that, Jesper pretended to barf into the trashcan.

“Yeah, no, you’re right – that was dumb,” he said. “I commend you for not cutting off your own ears when he did.”

“We are not buying his stupid fucking green juice,” Kaz said, pointing at Jesper to show he meant business.

“Good!” Jesper agreed. “Nina says it gives him the shits.”

And that brought Kaz some comfort. He found he could smirk about it while he loaded up the dishwasher. He was starting it up when his phone buzzed on the counter. He leaned over to read it.

Inej: You seemed sad tonight.

Inej’s contact photo in his phone was one he’d snapped when she wasn’t looking – she was leaning her head back with her eyes closed, taking in the sunshine. It had made her brown skin glimmer and dazzle.

Kaz stared at her text for probably too long. Long enough for Jesper to peer around the corner of the kitchen doorway at him.

“I’m going to bed – everything okay?” he said, and cocked his head. “Is it another last minute job?” Those kinds of jobs – the ones where a student was giving up the night before something massive was due – paid the most, but for good reason. They were absolutely fucking miserable to pull off.

“No,” Kaz shook his head. “Just Inej.”

It was never “just Inej” – and Jesper nodded like he knew that.

“Hey, Kaz,” he said, as he began to leave for his bedroom. Kaz looked up at him sidelong as he mouthed, barely audible: “Tell her what’s wrong.”

“Thank you, Dr. Phil.” Kaz rolled his eyes. And heaved a heavy sigh.

And started typing.

Kaz: I guess I was a little.

Whoa, pressing send on that was unpleasant. He wandered over to his preferred recliner in the living room and flopped back in it. Shoved the footrest up to elevate his bad leg. Ugh. Just ugh to everything and everyone. He looked down at his phone again.

And Inej had been quick to respond.

Inej: You can tell me these things, you know.

Inej: I know I won’t always have the right thing to say, but I want to be there for you.

Inej. Why are you being so perfect so far away?

Why are you wasting your time with a boyfriend who struggles to touch you?

Inej: Are you writing a novel?

He’d been writing and rewriting the same sentence twenty different times. She’d probably been looking at those ominous three bobbing dots for way too long.

Ugh. God. Fine. Kaz drew in a long deep breath, staring up at the ceiling like it could intervene and come to his aid. And then fucking wrote.

Kaz: I wish things were different

Kaz: I wish I wasn’t so fucked

Kaz: I wish I knew how to be a better boyfriend – how to make you blush and laugh and make that one smile that’s like you’re telling secrets with your eyes

He pushed the recliner back as far as it would go. Maybe it would tip and dump him on his head and he’d have to go to the hospital, and that would at least delay Inej inevitably breaking up with him for being this pathetic wet blanket. The phone buzzed again, and he almost didn’t want to look.

Inej: Um, where were you all night? You literally had me doing all those things all night

Huh. That wasn’t how he remembered it.

Kaz: On the opposite side of the table from you

Kaz: Watching basically everyone else be able to touch you but me

Oh, fuck, oh, fuck, oh, fuck. That sounded so petulant, and he’d already pressed send. That sounded so needy and disgusting. Who said that kind of shit? Not even Matthias Helvar said that kind of shit. He wanted to throw his phone across the room. No, out the window. No, out into the sea.

Now he was on the receiving end of the three bobbing dots of doom. Fuuuuck.

Kaz: Can we just forget I said that?

More dots. Then nothing.

Then dots.

Inej: I don’t know. You’re kind of cute when you’re jealous.

At that, Kaz raised his eyebrows.

Kaz: I am not jealous.

Inej: You’re a little jealous

Kaz: No, I feel insufficient.

(Oooof. That was like trying to throw an anvil. Painful.)

Inej: Oh

Kaz was watching the texts come in from beneath his arm now, holding the phone high over his head. Like watching the slasher scenes in a horror movie.

Inej: I mean

Inej: It seems like you’re just splitting hairs here

Inej: Since you must think others are sufficient in ways you are not, so you envy them

…

Kaz: Touche, Ghafa.

And he couldn’t help smiling to himself when Inej sent him a gif of a swashbuckling cartoon Robin Hood brandishing a sword. Then another text bubble appeared.

Inej: You are not insufficient to me, Kaz.

He really wanted to believe that.

Kaz: Even if I’m not hanging all over you and amassing a truly staggering number of Instagram followers with my six-pack abs?

Inej: O.M.G.

Inej: Kaz

Inej: Brekker

Oh, God, what had he done?

Inej: Are you *jealous* of Matthias?

Uggghh, he was going to be sick.

Kaz: Fuck no

Kaz: It was just a hypothetical

Kaz: It was an exaggeration

Kaz: I could do the same thing with any one of our friends

Kaz: And we all know the abs are photoshopped anyway

Inej: OMG

Kaz: What now

Inej: You called Matthias our friend

Kaz wanted to stab himself in the brain.

Inej: I’m gonna tell him

Kaz: Don’t you fucking dare

Inej: I already did

Kaz: What? How? How are you that fast?

Inej: Still in the car

Kaz: ????

There was no reason for that – the dorms were hardly a 10-minute drive. Now Kaz’s brain was assaulting him with a thousand reasons things his girlfriend could still be doing in a car (A nice car! With working air conditioning!) with a personal trainer/amateur Instagram model, and none of them were pleasant or welcome thoughts. The phone buzzed again.

Inej: I asked him to bring me back to you. :)

At that, Kaz straightened the recliner, rising to his feet as fast as his stiff leg would allow.

Kaz: You did? And he did? Why?

He was limping toward the front door.

Inej: Because he’s not terrible, Kaz. And because I guess I missed your car after all ;)

Jesper and Kaz’s apartment was the third floor of a wonky old Victorian home that had once been something grand and only recently had been split into three different abodes – which was definitely the worst decision the two of them had made as roommates. Kaz was leaning hard against the railing as he took to the steps when the front door of the building banged shut below. And then there on the landing below was Inej, wearing a sheepish smile in the yellow, buzzing fluorescence of the hall light. She was holding her phone in one hand, her tan leather purse slung across her slim body.

“I thought you looked like you could use a hug,” she said, as she pocketed her phone.

Kaz took the last two stairs carefully, coming to stand in front of her. She smelled like vanilla and coconut oil – like something he wanted to wake up to every morning.

“You came all the way back for a hug,” he wanted to clarify. His hands – he should do something with his hands. What would Matthias do with his hands?

No. What do I want to do with my hands?

So, he looped a couple fingers through her belt loops. Tugged her a little closer. And she smiled.

“Technically,” she said, “Matthias came all the way back so I could bring you some samples.” She patted her purse, which did look a little bulkier. “They were in his car the whole time.”

“Mmmm.” He pretended to look tantalized. “Hot car samples. Delicious.”

Inej was twisting her fingers in the t-shirt fabric at the crest of his hips. Tugging him a little closer, too. God, it was so good. She’d been so right. He had wanted a hug.

“I know that’s how I want my protein powder,” she teased. “Piping hot, right out of the oven.”

“Just how Ma used to make it,” Kaz added, with a good bit of feigned nostalgia. Inej blurted out a laugh, tipping forward until her forehead bumped his sternum.

At that first brush, it was like his hands knew what to do from there. They slipped around her waist while her hands slid around his. And she pressed her cheek against his chest while he held her close.

“You are not insufficient,” Inej said against him.

“I would really like to pretend that never happened,” he said with a sigh, resting his chin on top of her head.

“Too late,” she hummed, happily, and gave him a light squeeze. He smiled against her hair.

“You know I wouldn’t want you to be like Matthias, right?” she asked.

“You shouldn’t even want Matthias to be like Matthias,” Kaz grumbled.

“Hey,” and Inej pulled back to look up at him with her big, soft brown eyes. “I mean it. I just want you to be you. I don’t want all the handsy stuff. That’s what Nina likes. I just like you.”

Kaz carefully pushed back a few strands of her hair from her forehead.

“Not even a little handsy stuff?” he checked, which made Inej give her coy little smirk, his very favorite.

“Maybe a little handsy stuff,” she said.

If there were ever going to be a time to kiss her, it would be now. But when he thought it, Kaz felt his heart make an enormous leap into his throat, seizing in panic. If he touched her mouth with his, if he closed his eyes and felt her face so close to his, would he just end up floundering in The Very Sad Thing again? What if it happened while he was kissing her? Would every kiss after that be tainted? Could he risk it – could he ever?

So, he didn’t move to meet her lips. He let his hands fall to the small of her back, though, and kept her close for another moment. Like a sample of physical affection, and she seemed okay with that. He would will himself to believe it was not insufficient.

“Drive me home?” she asked after a moment, with a kind of sweet, eager anticipation that made Kaz believe in magic. He nodded, of course.

“I’ll go up and get my keys,” he said. “And you throw away those samples.”

Inej laughed, following him up.

“Deal,” she said.

-----------------------------------

Tagging: @annejulianneh111, @loveyatopluto, @ireallyshouldsleeprn, @whosanxiety, @raging-bisexual-alert,

[cuinnamonbun]

I really love ur headcanon about Hijabi Mc with the brothers! I really love it cuz there is no one writing about us in any fandom =(

I was thinking would u do the (un)datebale characters with Hijabi Mc if u can ? =3

If u don’t want then u can ignore the ask 🖤

Hello there, angel! I assume you meant the chaotic Hijabi MC headcanon that I wrote, so I hope you enjoyed these xx

she/her pronouns!!

The (Un)Dateable Characters' + Luke’s Reactions to a Hijabi MC That Looks Extremely Pious and Quiet but is Actually a Chaotic Mess

Diavolo

As future king of the Devildom that wishes to strengthen the relations between the three realms, prejudice and discrimination against the human exchange students’ choice of religion is a HUGE no-no

Diavolo would not mind the fact that she is wearing a symbol of her devotion to God on her head, but he would be so intrigued by this human at first meeting

Not about her religion, of course, he is well aware of all the religions in the world; Abrahamic religion being the one he is most familiar with (obvi)

What excited him was the fact that this human was so. friggin. hilarious.

He’s not even sure if this human is doing it on purpose because something would happen that would catch her off guard and she would just say?? the most random shit???

Like say, she got jumped by Mammon and her response to that would be a monotone scream and a “sTOP i could’ve dropped my croissant!” but she was actually genuinely startled

He’d be so fascinated like wow! Go girl, give us nothing!!

He would invite her over for tea so many times just so she could explain slang to him

Diavolo: Tell me MC, what is the meaning of DILF?

Due to personal reasons, MC will now be passing away

He would abuse the usage of slang everywhere and he would be so excited to finally understand what Leviathan is talking about

Lucifer: Diavolo, we must talk about the student council budget

Diavolo: That wasn’t very cash money of you

Lucifer: ....excuse me?

Diavolo: Periodt okurrr slay queen

MC has to go hide to avoid being slaughtered like a sacrificial lamb by Lucifer

Diavolo would be also be curious and impressed at the intricate planning of each and every one of her pranks

Like sure, it may be annoying to be the one at the receiving end of it, but understanding the details behind it?? All the logic, physics and patience put into it just to ensure a flawless delivery??? Absolutely stunning

MC has him mesmerised

He would absolutely want to learn the art of pranking from her

Honestly, at this point it’s no longer the human exchange student and the Devil King, it’s now the mentor and the mentee

Lucifer has to demand MC to stop teaching him these things for the sake of his sanity because it’s taking him away from his royal duties that’s keeping the Devildom from falling apart

They still meet up in secret though screw you, Lucifer

Barbatos

This is another demon whom would not mind the fact that their chosen exchange student is a Muslim

Lord Diavolo’s reputation hangs on this exchange program going extremely well, he would not let simple prejudices put a smear on that

He has prepared himself well to receive people from different walks of life just so he can provide all students a comfortable stay during their term in the Devildom

But wait...what is that human doing?

Oh...this poor man

Not only does he have to keep that ginormous labyrinth of a castle spotless and immaculate at all times and ensure that every event being hosted by the castle is going perfectly without a hitch, but he also has to take care of an overgrown man-child that is also known as the future king of the Devildom

Now, he has to make sure this...mess of a human doesn’t go stir up trouble anywhere?

Barbatos is a calm and collected man, but he’s still a demon; virtues aren’t exactly something they practice 

He would need to down three cups of melancholy coffee and squeeze a stress ball whenever he catches MC in her antics whether it is alone or with someone in tow

Somehow he’s the only one whom MC would find almost impossible to prank

Like she managed to catch Lucifer off guard once (that was her proudest achievement) but BARBATOS???? yeah, it’s like he has a pair of eyes on the back of his head or something

MC: *tries to sneak up on him*

Barbatos, not even turning back: Enough of that now, MC, come enjoy this tea I’ve made

Pranking Barbatos will become her number one mission during her entire term in the Devildom

Barbatos would be really amused and impressed at the lengths she would go through just to see that shocked look on his face

Why, it might even be—dare he say—endearing

Though MC will cause this man stress and grey hairs, Barbatos couldn’t help but appreciate her company every time she came around

When she’s not up to her daily shenanigans, she would simply opt to help Barbatos out with some of the chores or preparing the treats for a tea party with the student council members and the exchange program, even though he’s mentioned that she should do no such thing

But knowing that this girl is constantly energetic and restless, Barbs agreed to let her help since he would not want to deal with her breaking some priceless antiques or getting herself in trouble with Devildom law again

She helps to remind him that it’s okay to be laidback once in a while and that he doesn’t need to be so uptight all the time

These two have an unusual friendship but it’s only good vibes all around ^^

Before she leaves the Devildom though, he would pretend that she actually managed to startle him with her last grand prank and the look on her face was worth his reputation taking a slight hit

He totally has a soft spot for her

Solomon

OOOOH THESE TWO

THESE TWO ARE THE EMBODIMENT OF CHAOS ITSELF

Solomon and MC would be the best of friends man

The minute this shady sorcerer laid his eyes on her, he KNEW...this would be his new BFF

They would wreak so much havoc together that they give Lucifer a migraine the size of Lord Diavolo’s castle because they’re rUiNiNG tHe iNtEgRiTy oF tHE eXcHanGe pRoGrAm

Psh, as if that’d stop them

Honestly, it was like they each have one braincell that cancels each other out every time they get together

Lucifer: You two better have an explanation for this

MC: We have three actually. 

Solomon: Pick your favourite

Lucifer hates it whenever they get together and he would always try to prevent them from meeting up 

But his wits are no match for the power of their friendship!!

Solomon would defff try to persuade MC to get more pacts with other demons

Solomon: C’monnnn MC, we could be powerful! :c

MC: Bold of you to assume we’re not powerful now, bestie

So we have established that MC loves to pull pranks right?

She would have so many ideas on the top of her head that she would never use because 1) they either defy the laws of physics or 2) she would need magic to pull it off perfectly

So imagine her excitement when she found out Solomon is the greatest human sorcerer

She would 100% reel him in her plans and schemes and NO ONE (except the angels, they have immunity bc they’re babies :] ) would be safe from them

Despite all the fun they would have though, Solomon definitely treasures her as his greatest friend

I imagine life for Solomon would be quite lonely and he appreciates the constant joy and company that MC would provide him

He would definitely fuck a bitch up if someone dares to mess with his bestie 🙄

These two adore each other so much but they would be caught DEAD before they would admit that to each other 🤭

Simeon

When they first met, Simeon was so happy to find a person so devoted to God such as MC

He takes it upon himself to become MC’s guardian angel around the Devildom

He would helicopter them for a while and would (reluctantly) back off if MC finds it a bit suffocating 

(don’t be mean MC, he just cares about u alot that’s all :( )

This man is capital P patient

I mean, that’s a given with him being an angel and all

But seriously,,, one has to be in awe at how calm and collected he is even when MC would pull pranks that would cause a normal person to wanna punch the living daylights out of her

Eventually she would feel bad and stop pulling these pranks on him though, he’s just too sweet and she can’t take advantage of that </3

They would be really close though (along with Luke) because he would frequently invite her to pray the 5 essential prayers together with Luke or read the Qur’an together and it’s just wholesome vibes all around man 🥺

As angels, him and Luke would have such beautiful recitations of the Qur’an and I can picture MC frequently dropping by Purgatory Hall just to listen to him recite the kalimahs with the perfect tajweed (Non-Muslims if you’d like to hear an example, check out Sheikh Mishary reciting Surah al-Kahf, it’s beautiful man 🥺)

He would frequently invite MC and Luke out for walks too and these three would look so domestic together people often mistake them as a little family (much to the brothers’ chagrin and Simeon’s amusement)

Simeon has such a calming presence that he could even tame a chaotic MC down and have her sit still enough, it will be as if she turned into a completely different person

Lucifer, in his demon form: MC STOP RUNNING AROUND YOU’RE GOING TO FALL AND HURT URSELF

MC, violently shaking like a hamster on crack: U CANT STOP ME LUCI, URE NOT THE BOSS OF-

Simeon: Hello, MC! Would you like to come and have a pleasant chat with me? ^^ 

MC, as if in a trance: ...anything for you, Beyonce

MC is such a simp for Simeon and honestly, who can blame her?

Luke

Luke was extremely happy when the two of them met

This cutie is a proud servant of God and he loves humans who loves Him as much as he does

So it comes as to no one’s surprise when he attaches himself to MC

This would heighten when MC stepped between him, Beel and Lucifer during that,,,,incident

His favourite time of the day is praying in congregation with MC and Simeon and baking with MC

MC would steer clear from involving Luke in her pranks and/or outright pranking him

He’s just a precious little child okay, MC has a soft spot for this angel

She would definitely try to tone down her chaotic energy around him, but she would NOT hesitate to verbal + cyber bully any demons that dare to bully her child

Rando demon: haha shortstack

MC: So you have chosen death

Seriously, Luke would gawk at the obscenities coming from MC’s mouth

He would have to physically drag her away before the demons could devour them both

He would be absolutely SHOOKETH at the language she used because she has been nothing but sweet and polite to him. It was like she switched into a whole different person right in front of his eyes

Luke: MC! I knew living with those horrid demons is a bad idea! They’ve corrupted you now!! *crying Luke noises*

MC: Lil buddy, I was born this way

He would definitely feel really touched that MC is so protective of him though, but he would have to tell her to never say those words again, even if she’s trying to protect him

She would (hesitantly) tell him she would try her best but that would literally only last for half a day because another demon has foolishly decided to mess with him with her present

MC is Luke’s mother point blank period.